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 L I B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 v.l
 
 STRATHMAY, 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 VOLUME r.
 
 'Neiv Popular Novels just Published, 
 
 By Thomas Tegg, No. Ill, Cheapside, and 
 
 J. DICK, Edinburgh. 
 
 1. A Winter in Edinburgh, a Novel, 3 vol. 
 12mo, price 15s. by Honoria Scott. 
 
 " We have seldom, indeed, found such a com- 
 bination of various talent, as is displayed in the 
 Winter in Edinburgh. Whether the writer de- 
 scribes the romantic scenery of Scotland, and 
 strays among wild solitudes or the fallen remains 
 of antient grandeur, whether she indulges in 
 scenes of broad humour, or of refined and^ele- 
 gant wit, or whether in simple narrative, she 
 appeals only to the hearts of her readers, her 
 powers are alike felt, and her talents equally re- 
 splendent. — Satirist, Feb. 181@. 
 
 2. The Shipwreck ; or Memoirs of an Irish 
 Officer and his Family, in 3 vols. 15s. boards. 
 
 3. The Lady of the Lake, a Romance, in 2 
 vols. 10s. 
 
 4. Amatory Tales of Spain, France, Swit- 
 zerland, and the Mediterranian, 4 vols. 
 
 5. I'll Consider of it, a Novel, 3 vols.
 
 STRATHMAY: 
 
 OB 
 
 SCENES IN THE NORTH, 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 
 SCOTTISH MANNERS, &c. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF A WINTER IN EDINBURGH, 
 AMATORY TALES, VALE OF CLYDE, &c. 
 
 ** From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 
 ** That makes her lov'd at home— rever'd abroad." — Burns. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. 1. 
 
 <!EDint)urgI) : 
 
 PKINTED FOR J. DICK, 142, HIGH STREET ; AND T. TBGG. 
 111. CHEAP SIDE, LONDON. 
 
 1813.
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/castleofstrathma01scot
 
 V. I 
 
 c? 
 
 
 CHAPTER -L 
 
 Shipwreclc^ — A Highland Castle^ its 
 \J Inhabitants. 
 
 It was a stormy night, during the vernal 
 equinox, the heavy waters bore trenien- 
 dously on the rocky cliffs of Caithness, 
 when the Hope of Barbadoes, in an attempt 
 to stem the northern passage, encountred 
 off these dangerous shores, one of the awful 
 gales of the season; her exhausted crew, un- 
 able to guide their shattered vessel from the 
 
 VOL, I. A
 
 6 
 
 lee shore, to which a strong south easter was 
 rapidly hurrying it, at length gave them- 
 selves up to their fate, and long ere the morn, 
 so anxiously wished, during dark and peri- 
 lous hours, sunk to watry graves 5 seventy 
 souls passed the confines of eternity, one 
 alone survived to breathe a prayer of gra- 
 titude, and mingle the joy of self preserva- 
 tion, with the horror which a scene so deso- 
 late inspired. The awful world of waters, 
 the dark cliffs, the bare and horrid coast, met 
 the eyes of the rescued youth — one vast so- 
 litude ; no sound, save the wild scream of 
 the sea bird, broke on his ear. Alas ! the 
 exclamation of hope, the ejaculation of im- 
 plored mercy, the final shriek of despair, 
 were alike silenced, and ocean, as thunder 
 when its " bolt is sped," in hoUower, fainter 
 moanings, rolled its swollen waters over 
 those, so lately waking to light and life. 
 The exhausted sufferer had scarcely strength 
 enough left to reach the extremity of a ca-
 
 vern hollowed by the sea, when, throwing 
 himself on the humid sand, he sunk to insen- 
 sibility. On his recovery, much of the day 
 was spent ; the tide had receded from the 
 entrance of the cave, when arousing himself 
 from his stupor, Douglas, in the faint hope 
 that others might have survived the awful 
 night, advanced to survey the scene, — as- 
 cending the rock above, with slow and pain- 
 ful steps, he clasped a projecting fragment 
 of the cliff, and bent his sorrowful regards 
 on the dark waters below; in vain — no form 
 arose — no hand waved — no voice implor- 
 ed. Tears started to the aching eyes of 
 Douglas, as recollection recalled the com- 
 panions of his voyage. The mother, (to 
 whose simple but affecting portrait of her 
 babe, he had delightedly listened, as the 
 sailor read the letter of his absent wife,) 
 was now a widow ; and, over those gleams 
 of nature he marked, the darkest cloud 
 of fate had past. Her tender anticipa- 
 A 2 
 
 Z
 
 8 
 
 tion of meeting, of presenting her babe 
 to a father, (to whom it was yet unknown,) 
 were fallacious ; alone, forsaken, friendless, 
 the sources of happiness, she so affecting- 
 ly described; the features, voice, and sports 
 of her boy, henceforth would only wound 
 the bosom to which he was prest. 
 
 Cold waves had chilled the fires of love, 
 never more would the faithful maid, nam- 
 ed in the song of the mariner, start at the 
 voice, and rush to the embrace of affection. 
 All of emotion was stilled ; avarice no long- 
 er counted its gains ; industry ceased to 
 exult. 
 
 Convinced at length, that none survived 
 the storm except himself,Douglas, impelled 
 by the want of food and rest, turned away 
 in quest of the haunts of men. Benumb- 
 ed by cold, and nearly helpless from fa- 
 tigue, his progress up the height was slow 
 and painful ; a few stunted shrubs grow- 
 ing here and there^ among the interstices
 
 9 
 
 df the rocks, aided his steps to the summit. 
 Here the prospect over the adjoining coun- 
 try, was wild and dreary ; a few hutSy 
 rudely constructed of heath and stones 
 alone, were scattered over the desolation, 
 and their distance seemed to render it im- 
 possible the exhausted Douglas could reach 
 the miserable and comfortless shelter they 
 presented. His despairing eyes turned to 
 the awful heights that spread their giant 
 arms around the coast, and glistened with 
 hope, as on a lofty rock, overhanging the 
 sea, he discerned an ancient Castle. 
 
 Superstition would have marked the 
 Castle of Strathmay, as the habitation of a 
 supernatural being, delighting in the wild- 
 est scenes of nature, — some genius of the 
 storm. Rising many hundred feet from 
 the surface of the ocean, the dark, wild, 
 architecture of the ancient edifice, as the 
 shades of a stormy day, fell on the walls 
 and turrets, blended with the craggy basis 
 A 3
 
 10 
 
 on which it stood. Under dilapidated 
 towers " frowning o'er the flood/' a 
 magnificent cavern appeared, hollowed 
 by the ocean. Here conflicting currents 
 rapidly foamed, and sea birds built their 
 " air hung habitations." Douglas, now 
 with renovated spirits, exerted his remain- 
 ing strength, and with considerable diin- 
 culty reached the interior of a small court 
 through a breach in the walk and advanc- 
 ing to an arch-way, perceived a door, 
 covered with plates of iron, above which 
 a grated window appeared in the rugged 
 wall. His repeated elForts to arouse the in- 
 habitants of this dreary abode, long prov- 
 ed ineffectual ; almost in despair, Douglas 
 at length raised his eyes to the grate, and 
 observed an old woman attentively watch- 
 ing his motions. The answers she return- 
 ed to his in treaties for admission, were 
 unintelligible ; her gestures discouraging. 
 Shewavedher hand, as if bidding him be-
 
 II 
 
 gone, and the spent sufferer sunk on the 
 ground, hopeless of succour, incapable of 
 further intreaty, yet still his hollow eye 
 rested on the grate. Presently the old 
 woman left the window, and a young girl 
 appeared ; who, parting her dark locks 
 from a lovely face, enquired in English, 
 though in a voice of Northern accent, why 
 he tarried, and w^herein she could aid him. 
 
 Admit me, cried Douglas, faintly ; es« 
 caped from shipwreck, I perish for want 
 of nourishment and rest. 
 
 Alas ! replied the girl, in tones of com^-- 
 passion, we dare not open the gate, the 
 Laird is from home, and we dread his. 
 anger. You are ill and weak, (said she,) 
 leaning forw^ard and gazing on the stran- 
 ger with pitying looks j I wish it were 
 possible to help you. Tears started to her 
 eyes, she clasped her hands round the bars, 
 and leaning her head against them, con- 
 tinued mournfully to regard the supplicant, 
 A 4
 
 Douglas soon fell into a stupor, and re- 
 mained extended on the pavement with^ 
 out motion ; when, after the lapse of 
 some hours, unclosing his languid eyes, 
 he beheld himself in the interior of the 
 Castle, laid on a bed, and attired in clean 
 and comfortable habiliments. For an in- 
 stant, he believed himself under the im- 
 pression of a dream ; a strange figure sal- 
 beside him, occasionally feeling his puise, 
 and humming a melancholy air. The re- 
 gards of Douglas, vi^andered alternately 
 from this spectre to the antique apartment 
 to v^hich he had been conveyed. The bed 
 on which he lay, was formed of dark carv- 
 ed wood, with hangings of tattered tapes- 
 try ; some forms, and a large table, on 
 which deer skins were stretched, stood 
 round; on the latter, a dusty heap of 
 books, maps, and papers lay confusedly* 
 Pieces of old armour, dirks, swords, guns, 
 mingled on the walls with deers horns^
 
 18 
 
 birds eggs strung, and inripleinents of aqua- 
 tic sport. The owner of the Castle, to 
 whom Douglas owed shelter, and the ob- 
 ject of his astonished regards, was a man 
 about fifty, in person of uncommon height, 
 gaunt and bony, and apparently of great 
 muscular strength, his complexion pale, 
 features expressive of intellect, and dark 
 eyes, that alternately sunk to gloom, or 
 flashed to fire ; his dress, over which hung 
 his matted locks, consisted of a loose 
 great coat, fastened by a broad leather 
 girdle ; on his feet he wore brogues ; his 
 legs were bare, and his whole appearance 
 denoted a disregard of even the decencies 
 of exterior. Nor were his manners more 
 prepossessing ; under the cloak of harsh 
 words, and rigid looks, he would have fain 
 concealed the actual benevolence of his na- 
 ture ; and, afraid lest his concern for the 
 stranger, and the tenderness of his treat- 
 ment, might induce Douglas to mistake 
 a5
 
 14 
 
 the character he was anxious to support ; 
 he now contented himself with occasion- 
 ally consulting his pulse with one hand, 
 whilst the other rapidly turned over the 
 leaves of a volume, seemingly regardless 
 of the astonishment of the stranger, who 
 now essayed a conversation with his taci- 
 turn companion. 
 
 I am indebted to you for my life, cried 
 the youth, (pressing gratefully the hand 
 laid on his wrist). 
 
 No flattery, no fawning, cried Macleod, 
 dont make me repent young man of hav- 
 ing done my duty ; I have not admitted a 
 stranger to my abode for years. 
 
 My gratitude, replied Douglas, should 
 be the greater ; I feel renovated and re» 
 freshed, and must not trespass longer, I 
 believe I am capable of walking. 
 
 Stay, (grumbled Macleod, as he prevent- 
 ed his rising, and turned on him a dissatis- 
 fied look,) you are welcome to remain.
 
 15 
 
 I spoke of departure, (observed the 
 youth,) from a belief I intruded on your 
 privacy ; no other consideration could 
 have induced me to travel, weak as I yet 
 am. 
 
 Last night was a dreadful one, remark- 
 ed Macleod. 
 
 It was, (sighed Douglas,) on the hap- 
 less companions of my voyage, its fury 
 was fatally spent. 
 
 Macleod rose, and walked about the 
 room with a quick and hurried pace, then 
 suddenly stopping short, exclaimed. What 
 of that Sir, I too have been in storms ^ 
 those of life, of society, and this is my 
 haven — you are welcome, I repeat, to re- 
 main. 
 
 I accept your offer, (cried Douglas), 
 
 But, understand me, (resumed Mac- 
 
 leod,) my way of life ; my manners are 
 
 said to be strange, expect not too much j 
 
 I can be your physician, your attendant, 
 
 A 6
 
 16 
 
 but as for a companion, or a friend, that 
 Sir I can be to no man. 
 
 There was a degree of wildness in Mac- 
 leod's look, as he spoke, that strongly im- 
 pressed Douglas with the belief his intel- 
 lects were in a degree disordered. Whilst 
 he mused, Macleod's aspect softened, and 
 the youth requested him to relate how he 
 had been admitted to his abode j and men- 
 tioned the refusal of the Laird's domestics 
 to his intreaties of shelter. 
 
 -They acted by my commands, (observ- 
 ed Macleod). I never apprize them when 
 I may return j and my orders are that 
 none are admitted in my absence. I saw 
 you last night as I entered the court. This, 
 (said he, presenting a clasped pocket-book 
 to Douglas,) dropt from your breast as 
 you were conveyed in.— Douglas, as he 
 grasped the rescued treasure, vttered an 
 exclamation of joy,.
 
 17 
 
 Pshaw, cried the cynic, the man who 
 suffers aught thus to affect him, I cannot 
 avoid regarding with contempt. 
 
 Suspend your judgment, (returned the 
 youth,) this secures friends, riches, all that 
 a stranger situated as I am can need to de- 
 Uver him from misery. 
 
 Riches, friends, (exclaimed the misan- 
 thrope), poor boy I pity you. 
 
 I owe you thanks, (observed Douglas, 
 his cheek suffused as he spoke), for think- 
 ing of me in any way. I came to you in 
 a questionable shape, undoubtedly. 
 
 What mean you Sir, (cried Macleod 
 roughly). In no shape but that of misery 
 should you have entered here ; were you 
 not ill, even conversation would not have 
 passed between us. Come added the in- 
 consistent cynic, smoothing the pillow of 
 the invalid, you need refreshment, and 
 though I live on milk and vegetables, a 
 more nutritive meal is prepared for you.
 
 IS 
 
 where is Morna, enquired he, as the old 
 woman brought in dinner ? 
 
 Here, dear uncle, (eried a gentle voice,)* 
 I but waited till you should enquire for 
 me. 
 
 Well, well, (grumbled Macleod, half 
 repulsing her endearments,) sit down. 
 Here, young man, is an unconquered 
 heart — amid the wilds of Caithness, Morna 
 has learnt no worldly lesson, 
 
 Douglas, as he spoke, surveyed the sub- 
 ject of his eulogy with considerable curi- 
 osity. Morna was a fine blooming girl of 
 sixteen ; her countenance sweetly expres- 
 sive ; over her coarse tartan habit, her 
 long locks fell in disorder not ungraceful ; 
 seating herself at Macleod's feet, she laid 
 her head on his knee, and cast the beams 
 of her mild eyes tov/ards his sterner ones. 
 Douglas recognized in Morna, the girl 
 who, on the preceding day had mourned 
 over his distress.
 
 19 
 
 Your daughter Sir ? enquired he, as 
 the meal cqn eluded ; Morna modestly re- 
 tired. 
 
 My neice, replied Macleod ; her mother. 
 Sir, was the last of the human race for 
 whom I felt affection ; she was consider- 
 ably younger than myself, and was known 
 by the epithet of the beauty of Strathmay. 
 I could once doat and be a fool ; I impror- 
 ed, Sir, (exclaimed Macleod sternly), for 
 I threw her from my bosom, and became 
 the murderer of her husband. 
 
 Good God, (cried Douglas, inexpressi- 
 bly shocked,) and does your neice know 
 this, and 
 
 Love me — you would say, (interrupted 
 Macleod) ; no, Morna does not know this. 
 1 have made her happy, for she has been 
 withdrav/n from a world, that wrecked 
 the peace of her relatives. You are silent, 
 observed he, after a pause, I do not wish 
 your approval.
 
 ^0 
 
 . You mistake the nature of my thoughts^ 
 replied Douglas, nor can I explain them 
 without seeming to encroach on your con- 
 fklence. Are you going to rest, enquired 
 he, seeing Macleod rise to leave the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 No, (replied he, pressing his hand kind* 
 ly,) I go out at this hour. 
 
 Out, (exclaimed Douglas,) surprised. 
 
 I ramble about the woods till dawn, 'tis 
 my fancy. Young man, (added Macleod 
 with a half sigh,) I can only rest when 
 the sun shines on my couch. It will be 
 well for you, when you attain my years^ 
 if time should have so passed, you " caji 
 sleep as others sleep." Farewell.
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Macleod becomes attached to his guest — The 
 Story of the Shipwrecked Stranger, 
 
 A FEW days rest restored Douglas to 
 heakh, and he was soon enabled to leave 
 his room, and wander over his strange a» 
 bode. It was not easy for him to remove 
 from his mind the awful scene so lately 
 witnessed ; but, beyond the acquaintance 
 of his voyage, he had none to regret. 
 Macleod's character interested, for it was 
 new ; and Douglas, when the former de- 
 dicated an hour to his society, was care- 
 ful to avoid the appearance of curiosity, 
 however he felt, concerning this extraordi- 
 nary man. One night Douglas mention^ 
 ed his obligations to Macleod.
 
 2^ 
 
 Hush, cried the Laird, you satirize hu- 
 man nature, by so highly estimating the 
 ba e perform -"iance of cominon duties j what 
 a depraved period must it have been, vi^hen 
 men hrst were taught to praise each other 
 thus. 
 
 Douglas, as they continued to converse, 
 perceiving the interest which Macleod, in 
 spite of his endeavours at concealment, 
 could not avoid shewing, in his welfare, re- 
 lated the incidents of his life as follows :— 
 
 My parents, said Douglas, were Euro- 
 peans, but whether of England, Ireland, 
 or Scotland, I am unable to judge, unless 
 the strong emotion both evinced on men- 
 tion of the latter, may authorise the be- 
 lief they were natives of Caledonia. On 
 embarking for the West Indies, I was plac- 
 ed under the care of a man of fortune 
 and integrity ; who, though ignorant of 
 my father's connections, became so deep- 
 ly interested in the concerns of the young
 
 and amiable pair, whom he had^niet at the 
 house of his Banker, as to offer the guar- 
 dianship, most gladly accepted by the at- 
 tached pair, who only feared for me. Mr. 
 Melville was a widower, without children, 
 or near relatives. His habits were those 
 of elegance, and an ample fortune was- 
 rendered by his benevolence, useful to his 
 fellow men. In infancy I experienced the 
 attentions of a parent from this worthy 
 man. As I advanced in years and studies, 
 I was sent by my father's desire (who had 
 by successful speculations, amassed a con. 
 siderable property at Barbadoes,) to Har- 
 row. Here, while intellectual improve- 
 ment advanced, I formed friendships 
 warm as ever youth inspired, and trust to 
 find many who will remember the com- 
 panion of their pennances, the partaker 
 of their sports. 
 
 Better not, (cried Macleod). —
 
 M 
 
 Say noteo, (replied his guest,) the mere 
 idea warms my bosom. 
 
 Proceed, (cried Macleod, roughly). 
 
 I seek not to boast, I escaped the venal 
 errors of a school-boy, (continued Doug- 
 las). At sixteen, my parents-, unable to 
 bear a longer absence, wrote my recall, 
 and I was summoned to London, where 
 the amiable Melville embraced and bade 
 me farewell. My obligations to his care 
 were infinite, nor did my youthful grati- 
 tude fail to affect the worthy man ; his 
 adieu was that of a father to a dearly be- 
 loved son. 
 
 In London, 1 likev/ise bade farewell to 
 many of my Harrow associates, many of 
 whom were about to enter life with bril- 
 liant prospects ; some succeeding to titles^ 
 others to places of honour and emolument, 
 whilst some prepared their maiden speech^ 
 es for the Senate. Shortly a favouring
 
 «5 
 
 gale, wafted me beyond the influence of 
 tempestuous seas, or reflections of regret. 
 On the luxurious breath of the trade 
 breeze, a father's welcome, a mother's 
 soft caress, seemed wafted. I remember- 
 ed their tenderness to me in early life ; 
 their letters had been treasured, my fa- 
 ther's with respectful feelings, but my mo- 
 ther's, so descriptive of softer affection, 
 had ever an inexpressible charm, and were 
 treasured by me, alike in infancy and ri- 
 pening youth. The idea of meeting their 
 writers, effaced England from recollection. 
 Books had acquainted me with the land to 
 which I was hastening, and my mother 
 to entice me to her home, painted it in 
 colours alluring to youth. 
 
 The evening breeze fanned our sails, as 
 lit by a bright moon, the vessels of our 
 fleet gently glided into Carlisle Bay. My 
 parents had rewarded the slave who early 
 in the day, had spied the welcome sails.
 
 26 
 
 and were ready with a groiipe of friends 
 to embrace, and conduct me to a home, 
 where all that their affection, or fortune 
 could bestow, of pleasure, became mine. 
 My father, though a gentleman, and a 
 man of humanity, assimilated himself 
 (whenever honour offered no barrier,) to 
 the inhabitants and manners of the land, 
 in which, at the time of my arrival, he 
 possessed some considerable estates. He 
 was known as " the man who never de- 
 ceived a friend : degraded himself ; re- 
 venged the injuries of an enemy ; or op- 
 pressed a slave," I warmly appreciated 
 the virtues of my parents. My mother 
 was graceful in her person, and accomplish, 
 ed in her manners ; the partner of her 
 love, admitted her gentle sway, but she 
 had no law but that of principle ; or ex- 
 erted her influence but in behalf of the 
 -unhappy. This amiable pair seemed to 
 exist but in my sight 5 and, after so long
 
 27 
 
 an absence, grudge the hours that were 
 not spent in my society. Of this I could 
 not complain, no where met I beings so 
 accomplished, of manners so pleasing, or 
 morality so pure. — During hours of pri- 
 vacy, I frequently mentioned Scotland, 
 to whose people, my late protector, Mr. 
 Melville, had frequently drawn my atten- 
 tion, from his partiality. My parents 
 seemed to recoil as I spoke. Cease, cried 
 my father, as one day I expressed more 
 than ordinary curiosity respecting his 
 stor)^; cease, Alfred, to importune me. 
 Could the communication add one hour 
 to vour existence, nav even a fleetino; mo- 
 ment to your enjoyments, we would shew 
 the wounds inflicted on our bosoms, point 
 to their depth, and reveal the hand that 
 urged the mental dagger in its course ; 
 but, as it is, since our misfortunes would 
 but recall grief to ourselves, and give you 
 pain ; think no more of this 5 we cause
 
 ^8 
 
 your mother's serenity to fade. From this 
 moment I forbore to enquire to whom I 
 bore affinity, if the noble name of Dou- 
 glas was my right, or if Scotland were 
 indeed our country. I was heir to fortune 
 in the Island whither my parents destiny 
 had led them. To be the son of Mr. 
 Douglas, was distinction, and my power 
 was beyond the wishes of humanity. 
 Thus, the request with which I had 
 wounded the feelings of my parents, seem- 
 ed of little import, beyond the indulgence 
 of a youthful curiosity ; and this, put in 
 competition with a mother's smile, faded 
 to insignificance. Till nineteen, I passed 
 ray time in the enjoyments of a gay and 
 social society, whose allurements were 
 tempered to rationality, by a father's guid- 
 ance. These happy hours became shortly 
 clouded, and pleasure and mirth passed 
 away as a 'dream. A dreadful fever broke 
 out in the Islands, at first we but heard
 
 ^9 
 
 of its ravages elsewhere, but shortly at 
 Barbadoes, the severest effects of its pesti- 
 lential fury were felt. Society separated, 
 love feared the tender embrace, and friend- 
 ship heard appalled, th^ news of sudden 
 death. Whole families, with whom we 
 had been wont to spend happy hours, 
 were exterminated ; the eye of beauty 
 closed, the form of grace, sunk on the 
 bier ; the voice of melody was heard no 
 more. As death after death reached my 
 gentle mother, her cheek faded ; she gaz- 
 ed with terror on the objects of her ten- 
 derness and fear. " If cried she, clasp- 
 ing her hands in supplication, none are 
 doomed to survive, let the strokes pierce 
 at once our united hearts, none live an 
 hour to endure the agony of the other's 
 loss." She bent first before the " destroy- 
 ing power ;" her struggle was short, and 
 hardly had her distracted husband witness- 
 
 VOL, I. s
 
 so 
 
 ed the last sigh of her exhausted breath, 
 than he became, in turn, the victim of 
 disease. During these mournful hours, I 
 was incapable of attending those dear and 
 regretted beings, or even of comprehend- 
 ing that death assailed and conquered the 
 authors of my life. Raging fever was suc- 
 ceeded by great debility, and for m.any 
 weeks, my attendants concealed from me 
 the intelligence of my being an orphan. 
 To the cares of my slaves, I owe my re- 
 turn to health ; it was thus they repaid 
 my father's humanity. Returned from 
 the verge of the grave, how changed 
 seemed every object. The friends I loved, 
 no more — hurried to their last abode, with 
 scarce the decent rites of burial. The 
 few acquaintance I met, turned away with 
 tears, or hardened by the frequency of 
 sorrowful events, approached with apathy, 
 yet more appalling. I loathed the remem-
 
 31 
 
 brance of my late happiness, and resolv- 
 ed to leav^e the Island, where every object 
 recalled lost pleasure. 
 
 An answer to the letter I had written 
 Mr. Melville during the first hours of my 
 recovery, arrived ere my arrangements, 
 concerning pecuniary transactions, were 
 finished. The warm welcome lie assured 
 me of meeting; the whole tenor of his 
 letter, confirmed me in the resolution of 
 residing in England. I disposed of my 
 estates, and converting their produce into 
 bills on undoubted security, embarked for 
 Britain. The evening previous to my de- 
 parture, a slave of my father's, to whom 
 I had given freedom, and who had wit- 
 nessed nay anxious search amongst my fa- 
 ther's papers, brought me a small box; 
 which, on removing some large chests, he 
 had discovered in a recess in the wall of 
 his master's apartment. It was marked 
 b2
 
 S2 
 
 with my name, and eagerly I broke the 
 :lid. A letter only appeared, directed 
 thus : " To my son Alfred Douglas ; should 
 he be an orphan ere his twenty- first year, 
 as he values the memory of his father, let 
 him not, till the night he attains that age, 
 break this seal. Inclosed is a letter to the 
 enemy of his parents, he will need cool 
 reflection in the hour of its delivery, I 
 bid him pardon the being whom his pa- 
 rents pity more than hate/' For worlds 
 would 1 not have parted the sacred seal — 
 placing the letter and the bills that contain- 
 ed my worldly treasure, in a clasped 
 pocket-book, I have not since allowed it 
 to leave my breast ; it is this book you 
 have given into my hands. A while our 
 voyage proved prosperous, but on nearing 
 land, tremendous weather coming on, the 
 fleet dispersed. On the events of that fatal 
 night, and the awful struggles for.existaiice
 
 S3 
 
 on the part of the crew, I forbear to ex- 
 patiate. Your care, Sir, must, however, 
 
 be acknowledged ; let me express 
 
 Nothing, interrupted Macleod, you had 
 best tarry here till you hear from Mr. 
 Melville, I allow such a man may be anxi- 
 ous about your fate. 
 
 With your leave then, replied Douglas, 
 I shall remain till his answer arrives, 
 the interval will give me strength to tra- 
 vel. The letter I wrote this morning will 
 doubtless give pleasure to others, than the 
 amiable Melville. I am anxious. Sir, cried 
 Douglas, (his eye sparkled as he spoke,) 
 to renew my boyish friendships, there is 
 a vacancy in my heart that must be filled 
 ere I can be happy. 
 
 You have only to declare your for^ 
 tune^ (cried Macleod, sarcastically,) friend- 
 ship will be offered you. 
 
 If I kr^ow myself,^ (replied Douglas, 
 proudly,) every friendship would not suit, 
 B 3
 
 S4 
 
 Well, (exclaimedMacleodjaftera pause,) 
 we may meet ; I wander everywhere, and 
 it is my delight to be in a few hours, so 
 remote from the place I last occupied, that 
 I hazard nothing from the impertinence of 
 society. It is useless to relate to you my 
 story, young man ; I see from your's, its 
 events would strike us diiterently. My 
 mode of passing time may amuse you 
 more. In all seasons, I travel much^ and 
 by tenjperance have brought my frame to 
 encounter bodily fatigue, and inclemency 
 of weather. Whilst I am moving ; whilst 
 the scene is varied, my mind is at ease. 
 I am generally known as Macleod the in- 
 sane Chief of Strathmay ; and, whilst 
 the beings amongst whom I occasionally 
 mingle, animadvert on my habits, I dis- 
 cern more of madness in their actions. 
 When I retire to my Castle, it is free from 
 intrusion, and the desolate spot in which 
 it is situated, has occasioned my preferring
 
 85 
 
 it to other estates, more in the haunts of 
 men. When I close my wanderings at its 
 gates, perhaps tracing my way through 
 deep snow, and in the dead of night, I 
 am not insuked by the derision of domes- 
 tics ; no pampred mienial sneers at my 
 modes, but a woman admits me, one so 
 aged and ugly, I ateost forget the sex, 
 and all their mischief. 
 
 But your neice, observed Douglas 
 
 Is less ugly, you would say ; 'tis true, 
 but her I cannot banish. Her simple af- 
 fection lulls reflection. Morna is a scholar j 
 I instruct her when at homje. 
 
 Your literary resources are great, (said 
 Douglas, pointing to the books that lay 
 confusedly on the floor of the apartment,) 
 these shew an interest in the concerns of 
 the world, beyond what your words led 
 me to believe. 
 
 I collect my letters and newspapers once a 
 year, (answered Macleod) ; does this shew 
 B 4.
 
 S6 
 
 much interest concerning the world or its 
 
 transactions ? 
 
 I confess it does not. 
 
 I act thus to prevent trouble, and de- 
 tect the errors of correspondents ; their 
 letters thus compared, have all the variety 
 of rival newspapers, and form such a far- 
 rago of improbable absurdities, ;as even 
 the writers would blush at, could they 
 thus view the proteous corrptvpiindencf*. 
 Expect Mr. Douglas no consistency in cha- 
 racter ; the hard hearted man can be kind ; 
 the humane, cruel ; as the vane of cir- 
 cumstances wdiirls. 
 
 Douglas thought the eccentric being be- 
 fore him a strong proof of the justice of 
 his own remark. Already had he wit- 
 nessed, since his abode at the Castle, his 
 kindness to some unfortunates, who sought 
 the coast, resolved on emigration. Mac- 
 ieod had avowed himself the implacable
 
 37 
 
 foe of Morna's parents, yet sheltered he 
 their child with tenderness and affection. 
 
 After a silence of some minutes, Dou- 
 glas enquired if he associated with Lord 
 Morven, whose estate he had the day be- 
 fore mentioned as but a $tep from Strath- 
 may. 
 
 Over one mouniain and down ano- 
 ther at will ; was his reply. Lord Mor- 
 ven courts my society, because I am un- 
 like other men, and he is pleased to say, 
 as strong a confirmation of Lord Monbod- 
 do's hypothesis, as lives. When you 
 first became an inmate here, his Lordship 
 sent rather a peremptory demand for " the 
 hones of ymr liead^^ from the idea the 
 storm had sent ashore his favourite fish, 
 and that you were the happy creature des- 
 tined by nature to sport with the Syrens. 
 To this I made some objection. I recom. 
 mend you, if you wish the acquaintance 
 of a man, however eccentric in his fan- 
 B 5
 
 S8 
 
 cies, of the soundest intellect in Scotland, 
 to wait on him in town with your apolo- 
 gy for not being dissected for his amuse- 
 ment. His nephew Angus, is somewhat 
 superior to the common run of young 
 men. I have tried to think ill of himj but 
 without success. 
 
 In the afternoon, Macleod, without apo- 
 logy, after a fit of gloomy thought, left 
 his guest ; and Douglas soon descried him 
 from the window, walking towards the 
 hills. Unable to command his attention 
 sufficiently^ to find amusement from a 
 book, our hero soon laid aside the author 
 he had opened, and sought the Castle gate 
 for air and exercise. 
 
 Moma had placed her spinning wheel in 
 a " blink o' the sun," and sat singing a 
 plaintive Gaelic air, as she finished the task 
 " auld Janet" had as igned her. 
 
 What may be the subject of this me.
 
 89 
 
 iancholy strain, said Douglas, as she ceas- 
 ed the wild but sweet song ? 
 
 It was composed, (said Morna,) by a 
 poet of the country, on the fate of a Chief- 
 tain's daughter, w^ho, parted from her 
 lover by the cruelty of her friends, wan- 
 dered in wretchedness, till suddenly dis- 
 appearing, she was believed to have pre- 
 cipitated herself from the rocks of Strath- 
 may. 
 
 The tear starts to your eye Morna ; you: 
 must have sung this song often, yet the 
 subject seems to move you, as if it were 
 as new to yourself as it is to me, did you 
 know the lady ? 
 
 I did not know her, (said Morna, sigh- 
 ing,) nor do I often sing this song. My 
 uncle, Janet says, must not hear it j it 
 would remind him of my mother. 
 
 Your Mother, Morna ! ! 
 
 Hush, Janet comes, she has brought me 
 b6
 
 40 
 
 up from an infant, and I must not dis- 
 please her, or murmur when she is severe I 
 
 Severe to you, sweet Morna. 
 
 Not lately, only on the night you were 
 brought into the Castle. 
 
 And was it for me, exclaimed Douglas, 
 you incurred her anger. 
 
 I only clung round my uncle, and be- 
 sought him to shelter you, I never dared 
 to do so before, but then (added Morna, 
 innocently,) I was never so interested for 
 any one. 
 
 I owe then possibly my life to your in- 
 tercession, (said Douglas, after a pause,) 
 and shall often think of you. I would 
 wish you to remember me as a friend ; 
 take this, (penciling his address at Mr. 
 Melville's, banker,) the chances of life may 
 so order it, that Douglas, in part, should 
 return Morna's kindness. 
 
 The appearance of Janet checked Veply j 
 hastily depositing the card in her bosom^
 
 41 
 
 Morna waved Douglas away ; who, re- 
 turning to the apartment he had quitted, 
 spent the remainder of the evening in 
 musing on the characters of Strathmay.
 
 42 
 
 CHAPTER ITT. 
 
 Eefleciions — Douglas leaves Caithness — 
 Meets a Stranger — A Highland Storijo. 
 
 No doubt remained in the mind of Doug- 
 las that the intellects of his host were par- 
 tially deranged ; occasion had given proof 
 of his learning and talent in the course 
 of conversation, yet this eccentric being 
 disgraced both, by the rude exterior of a 
 savage ; as ashamed of man*s proudest 
 boast, the feeling of benevolence, he af- 
 fected an apathy, scorning the " sweet 
 courtesies of life," and inconsistent in every 
 thing, scrupled not to own his persecu- 
 tions of the parents at the time he shel- 
 tred the child. Douglas felt affected by the
 
 4S 
 
 story, the situation, and the simple man- 
 ners of Morna, and her idea was the only 
 one that in his solitary hours at Strath- 
 may charmed him from visions of the late 
 awful scene. 
 
 Macleod, when he returned from his 
 rambles, used no ceremony with the stran- 
 ger, and frequently without seeming to 
 notice him, threw himself on one of the 
 rude couches that stood in the common 
 apartment, and sunk to profound sleep. 
 One day, when after inveighing on the 
 folly of serving his fellow creatures the 
 cynic had fallen into a deep slumber ; Mor- 
 na who had listened in silent attention to 
 his discourse, advanced softly to Douglas. 
 My Lord Morven's servants (said she look- 
 ing earnestly in his face, as anxious to read 
 the impression made on the stranger by 
 her uncle's words,) told Janet, the night 
 the poor wanderers were sheltered by their 
 master, my uncle assisted to help the aged
 
 44 
 
 to the huts provided for them, and even 
 carried himself the half frozen babies to 
 the fires kindled to warm them. Is thit> 
 (said Morna pleadingly) sternness ? 
 
 No, my dear girl, humanity. 
 
 I love to hear you say so (exclaimed the 
 tender girl) for though strangers ridicule 
 him, and Janet shakes her head, and tells 
 me I have no cause to love him, I do so^ 
 tenderly. 
 
 And your love sweet Morna, will call 
 down a blessing on his age, whatever may 
 have been the blemishes of his youth. 
 
 Do you know any thing of my uncle's 
 youth, enquired Morna, looking innocent- 
 ly in Douglas's face. He was touched, and 
 gently putting her away, opened a book 
 laying near him, on which she modestly 
 withdrew. 
 
 Douglas, as he recovered from the me- 
 lancholy impression of the Shipwreck, and 
 felt his health renovated, began to feel his 
 situation irksome. Though his feelings were
 
 45 
 
 warm, and the recent death of his parents, 
 and the late awful scene he had encoun- 
 tered, had partially damped the fire of 
 youth, he could not be insensible to the 
 prospects before him ; that he was posses- 
 sed of fortune, and that the pleasures of 
 a gay world were opening to his enjoy- 
 ment. The beauty of the simple Morna 
 touched his senses ; her story, his heart, 
 but the iinpression on either was net 
 powerful eough to induce him to remain 
 an intimate of Macleod's mansion many 
 hours after receiving Mr Melville's letter. 
 The worthy guardian of Douglas's youth, 
 with fervor congratulated him on his 
 providential ; escape he expressed his grati- 
 tude to Macleod, but urged his young 
 friend to join him in London, where he 
 stated, that he intended only to remain a 
 few months, having purchased an estate 
 in Scotland, on which he had resolved in 
 future Jto reside. I find my dear Alfred,
 
 46 
 
 (wrote the good man,) that in these times 
 no one is permitted to grow old, in Lon- 
 don, I wiU try if our northern neighbours 
 allow of any comfort after sixty. My 
 house (as will my property ultimately,) 
 must be yours, it is large enough to live 
 without restraint, and as I have not had 
 yet resolution to declare myself unfit for the 
 gaiety of the metropolis, you will not find 
 my friends too grave. 
 
 Macleod endeavoured to conceal the re- 
 gret he felt at parting from our hero, by 
 venting ill timed satire on the society in 
 which he was about to mingle, yet the 
 cynic pressed the hand of m.an, and pres- 
 sed it warmly. 
 
 Morna's eyes glistened for some hours 
 after Douglas had wished her happiness, 
 she sat intently gazing on the rising ground 
 that had hid him from her view, lost in 
 thought, till rouzed by the peevish voice 
 of Janet, who reminded her, in allusion to
 
 47 
 
 her Idleness, past time would not return. 
 
 It will not indeed sighed Morna to her- 
 self, as with pensive steps she returned to 
 the Castle, now will Strathmay appear a 
 solitude. 
 
 Meantime, Douglas passed on through a 
 bleak and dreary country, where nature 
 seldom entices the eye of taste to explore 
 and admire. Dark heathy hills, chill and 
 bleak cottager?, and gloomy yallies, at length 
 gave way to cultivation and verdure, the 
 glens of Rosshire, rich in stream and 
 woods, and the cliffs of its picturesque 
 coast, appeared to relieve his wearied eye. 
 Whilst Douglas waited the crossing of the 
 ferry at Invergordon, he observed two 
 young gentlemen take the warm farewell 
 of friendship ; they paced the beach and 
 seemed as willing to prolong the moment 
 of departure. The scene was interesting 
 to our hero ; as yet he had no friend si- 
 milar in years and habits, he was as yet a
 
 48- 
 
 stranger at home. As the ferry-boat gli- 
 ded over, the younger of the gentlemen 
 waved his adieus with more than common 
 regard, and which prevented his immedi- 
 ately attending to the companion chance 
 had given him. Douglas at length sought 
 to enter into conversation, and his over- 
 tures being accepted by the stranger with 
 the frankness of a Scotsman, and the ease 
 ef superior manners^ our hero had soon to 
 felicitate himself on having met with an 
 agreeable companion, during the remain- 
 der of his journey in the person of Mr An- 
 gus, Lord Morven's nephew, the man 
 whom Macleod could not hate. He inform- 
 ed Douglas he had remained after his un- 
 cle left Caithness, on a visit to the friend 
 from whom he had just parted, and whose 
 estate lay in Stratherrick. 
 
 The barriers to intimacy being removed 
 by Mr Melville's intimacy with Lord Mor- 
 ven, a circumstance of which Angus- in-
 
 4S 
 
 formed our hero, the gentlemen felt at li- 
 berty to UTiprove the mutual liking they 
 entertained for each other. During their 
 journey, this reciprocal regard considera- 
 bly strengthened, and it was during a drea- 
 ry stage of the Highland road, that, on 
 Douglas expressing his curiosity concern- 
 ing the friend from whom Angus had part- 
 ed, that gentleman related a Highland 
 ^tory.
 
 50 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Lovers of StratherTwk. 
 
 ^ EAR where the Foyers rushes its wild 
 waters to Lochness, on the summit of a 
 mountain, rising proudly from woods of 
 picturesque beauty, stands the magnificent 
 seat of Sir Edward Rose, its owner, posses- 
 sing a princely revenue from his ancestors, 
 and the gains of a high situation abroad. 
 When in the noon of life he returned to 
 Scotland, he spared no expence in enlarging 
 and adding ornament to a Castle hither- 
 to neglected during the many years spent 
 by him in the West India Islands,
 
 51 
 
 Sir Edward, though plain in his person 
 and habit, was of luxurous temperament, 
 his table was served with every delicacy 
 of foreign refinement ; his retinue numer- 
 ous ; his equipage magnificent, and the 
 profusion of his establishment soon render- 
 ed the late desolate castle the resort of the 
 gentlemen of the country, who were con- 
 tent to vary the monotony of their life 
 by the varied scenes of amusement pro- 
 vided at the residence of Sir Edward. 
 
 With the profusion I have described, 
 there was extreme meanness blended; 
 whilst thousands were scattered before the 
 traveller, or the guest of a month, the 
 objects of Sir Edward's transitory amours, 
 the offspring of his vices were alike left to 
 the bitter portion of neglect and infamy ; 
 many were the mothers, disregarded by 
 the rich man, beyond the hour of passion, 
 and left to beg from door to door the mor- 
 sel given them with taunts by such as knew 

 
 52 
 
 them ; many the child, whose infancy, nip- 
 ped by poverty and snow, needed the 
 warmth and shelter, never denied the 
 stranger. One was fated to wander aw^hile 
 exposed to the miseries of its parent, then 
 return the declared heiress of her father's 
 possessions. 
 
 The mother of' Caroline, neglected by 
 him whom she had preferred to " her 
 good name," fled in dispair from Strath- 
 errick,from every haunt known to youth 
 and shame, anxious only to conceal herself 
 from the " ken" of former friends ; from 
 the companions who could enter the 
 church unreproved, from those who spoke 
 loudly of her error only because the crime 
 had not obtained her a maintenance. 
 
 The wandering mother of Caroline, 
 pressing her babe to her aching bosom, em- 
 barked at one of the nearest ports for Lon- 
 don. Fortunately on board thesam e vessel 
 an elderly Lady had taken her passage.
 
 53 
 
 Nvho, on their arrival at the place of their 
 destination, recommended her to a coun- 
 try-woman, who, on hearing the wander- 
 er's story, and assured that her penitence 
 was sincere, consented to befriend her. 
 Mrs. Davis, the name assumed by the 
 poor woman, for some years maintained 
 herself and daughter by working for the 
 ready-made linen warehouses, and though 
 her occupation was that of toil and fa- 
 tigue, she could lay her head on her pil- 
 low, with the hope another day of indus- 
 try and comparative innocence, had plead- 
 ed in extenuation of moments of guilt. 
 
 Alas, the wretched woman was suffered 
 to exult for awhile; but temptation return- 
 ed, and with it error. Caroline was eight 
 years old, w^hen her father, appointed to a 
 seat in Parliament, came to London, ac- 
 cidentally met her mother, and renewed 
 his intercourse with her. Of chilled heart 
 and stern manners. Sir Edward beheld 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 54 
 
 without pity, the infant graces of his child, 
 nor allowed his mind to dwell on her pro- 
 bable fate, should he not hold out a pro- 
 tecting hand to save her from her mother's 
 fate. That infatuated woman, though on 
 her abode none of her lover's affluence 
 was lavished ; though, however profuse 
 to others, he neglected affording her ne- 
 cessaries ; and allowed her, by setting of 
 lodgings, to gain alone the means of food 
 and raiment to his child and herself: — she 
 was contented during days of misery, if 
 at their close she beheld him for an hour ; 
 and rejoiced at his voice, though its accents 
 were those of tyranny and harshness. 
 
 Mrs. Davis now shrunk from her child ; 
 heretofore the incentive to virtuous in- 
 dustry ; her innocence became a reproach, 
 no longer a pleasure ; and conscious from 
 that period there was no recoil, when her 
 child must be drawn by a mother's hand 
 to infamy, or suffered to remain unconta-
 
 55 
 
 iiiinated, must despise the mother that 
 bore her : the unhappy woman could 
 not look on her unoffending daughter 
 without aversion. 
 
 Poor Caroline, (though no father smiled 
 on her youth, though a mother turned 
 from her glance, nor when she attained 
 her fourteenth year, congratulated her ;) 
 had yet one friend. — A young gentleman 
 distantly related to Sir Edward, was plac- 
 ed by him in Mrs. Davis's lodgings, till 
 his appointment in one of the professions 
 should take place. A youth of sixteen, 
 and the innocent Caroline two years 
 younger, could not be supposed capable 
 of entertaining a serious attachment, tho' 
 compassion on one side, and gratitude on 
 the other, might conspire to link their 
 tender hearts. 
 
 Young Irvin beheld with pity, one so 
 good and fair exposed to contempt and 
 disregard 5 he marked Sir Edward just 
 c 2
 
 56 
 
 glance at the delicacy of her fragile form, 
 and call on her with unfeeling callousness 
 for the services of a menial ; her mother 
 start at her appearance, and peevishly bid 
 her avoid her sight. Often v^hen Caro- 
 line's tender heart was oppressed with 
 sorrow, has Irvin comforted and consoled 
 her; he was suspected by no one of more 
 than common interest, and hence had 
 many opportunities of passing hours with 
 the object of his solicitude, and presenting 
 her acceptable gifts. The warm mantle 
 with which Caroline was wrapt during 
 the severity of winter, as she walked to 
 her obscure school, was given her by Ir- 
 vin ; he walked by her side to guard her 
 from insult, and relieve her from the bur- 
 then of her books ; and when the evening 
 closed, and Caroline had served the board 
 of her parents, some instructive and a- 
 musing volume provided by Irvin, was 
 i*ead by the young pair with interest and
 
 57 
 
 delight. Caroline's mind was thus drawn 
 pleasingly from her situation ; the respect 
 her youthful friend paid her was gratify- 
 ing to her spirit ; she was of an age to 
 comprehend that the world visited the 
 sins of the parents on their offspring ; that 
 her's were living a Hfe of guilt, and that 
 with the good and worthy she was not 
 likely ever to hold communion. From 
 the contempt of the few with whom she 
 had occasion to exchange converse, from 
 thoughts borrowing their dark colour 
 from a mother's shame, the hapless girl 
 turned to Irvin's respect. Had she been 
 heiress to Sir Edward, she could not have 
 received greater Iiomage from the gener- 
 ous youth. " He is my only friend," 
 sighed Caroline ; soon was she to know 
 her interest in his concerns was dearer 
 than friendship. 
 
 Irvin deciding on the navy, he was ap- 
 pointed to a frigate stationed off Cadiz, 
 c 3
 
 58 
 
 and with sparkling eyes communicated 
 the intelligence to Caroline. Her altered 
 countenance repressed his rapture, and 
 tenderly soothing her, he spoke of his re- 
 tiirn, Caroline's distress prevented her 
 noticing Irvin, who, for the first time ad- 
 dressed her by the epithets of love. Ah, 
 Sir, exclaimed she, you who have many 
 friends cannot comprehend what I must 
 feel on losing my only one* 
 
 A tinv^ may coiti^ crkd tho youths tstu 
 derly embracing her, when Caroline and 
 Irvin may be more than friends.
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Continuation of the lovers of Stratlierick. 
 
 IRVIN departed to engage in the perils 
 or a .service, uniting the dangers of the 
 sword and the elements. Leaving Caro- 
 line to solitude, the poor girl mourned over 
 recollection, recalled every act of tender 
 generosity, of considerate respect, and 
 hung with the devotion of a, saint over 
 every relict of his gifts. 
 
 She felt her few comforts had faded 
 away. 
 
 When others had forgotten to mention 
 Irvin, Caroline would start affrightened 
 at the cry of " glorious intelligence/' that 
 c 4
 
 60 
 
 broke on the solitary evening hours.-— 
 " The fleets have met, many exist no 
 more," would she tremblingly exclaim ; 
 and, closing her ears to the appalling 
 sounds, petition the God of battles. 
 
 Irvin, however, was as yet uninjured, 
 though distinguished by the bravery of a 
 Scotish youth. He dared not write him- 
 self, and hesitated to trust the name of 
 Caroline to any. Yet the soft prayer she 
 breathed for his safety was returned. 
 
 Mrs. Davis shortly added to the fatigue 
 and mental anxiety of her daughter. — 
 When Sir Edward was absent she could 
 lhink,and a violent pulmonary attack about 
 this period rendered her temper so irrasci- 
 ble as to add to her illness, and at length 
 reduced her to the last extremity. The 
 partner of her crime was at his seat in 
 Scotland,and to him Mrs. Davis command- 
 ed Caroline to write. The first letter this 
 hapless daughter penned, was to describe
 
 61 
 
 a mother's misery, to tell she approached 
 judgment, and called on him who had 
 caused her error, to hasten to receive 
 foregiveness, and to join in imploring 
 that of heaven. 
 
 Caroline's hand shook as she formed the 
 almost illegible characters ; her heart pant- 
 ed, and her ideas were confused, yet she 
 painted in colours of truth, a mother's 
 grief, her regrets, and her fears. 
 
 Sir Edward, on receiving this letter, 
 blistered with a daughters tears, hesitated 
 not an instant in hastening to the scene of 
 distress. 
 
 As the foaming steeds of Sir Edward's 
 equipage drove him to the obscure lodg- 
 ings of Mrs. Uavis, Caroline, pale and 
 trembling, met him on the steps ; scarce 
 looking on her, he rushed forward, with- 
 out speakmg, to the chaaiber of her mo- 
 ther. The interview was long and af- 
 fecting. Sir Edward listened to the hoi- 
 c 5
 
 62 
 
 -ow voice ; gazed on the sunken eye, and 
 heard the secrets of the heart revealed* 
 The man of pleasure shuddered at reflec- 
 tion, at the thought that to ihis^ all must 
 come 
 
 Mrs. Davis died in Sir Edward's arras. 
 Convulsed by anguish and despair, when 
 Caroline looking on the countenance of 
 her father, as he entered the apartment 
 where she wept, saw by its expression 
 that all was over. Be comforted child 
 said the late indifferent father, embracing 
 her, I am now your only parent, and have 
 sxvoni to protect you. Had your mother 
 survived, she would have been my wife. 
 
 Such are the words of the dissipat- 
 ed man, when exposed to such a scene as 
 we have described. Such his resolutions. 
 But shortly the awful impression fades, 
 and the promise of good is dissipated. 
 
 Jchnstcne^ cried Sir Edwcud, ^he is
 
 63 
 
 overcome, carry her gently to the carriage; 
 do you return and direct the funeral. 
 
 Supported by a father's arm, Caroline 
 reached Sir Edward's house in Arlington 
 street, where his domestics were directed 
 to serve her as the heiress of their mas- 
 ter. Awhile she was insensible to this 
 change of situation ; fatigue and anxie- 
 ty operating on her delicate frame, caus- 
 ed indisposition, and nature bade her 
 greive yet more bitterly, as her she mourn- 
 ed, was unfit to die. As time elapsed, 
 health returned, and the recollections of 
 sorrow were blunted. Caroline then, of 
 too gentle and affectionate a heart to be- 
 hold the alteration unmoved, saw her late 
 stern indifferent father attentive to her 
 wants, and rendering her known to his 
 friends, as one to whom every tittle of the 
 oath he had sworn, was about to be fulfil- 
 ed, 
 
 cG
 
 64 
 
 Every elegance was now lavished on Miss- 
 Rose, her father seemed to find consola- 
 tion, in bestowing all that wealth could 
 purchase ; his pride was gratified by the 
 admiration she excited, and he stilled the 
 recollection of the wants of her childhood. 
 The first masters were engaged to 
 instruct the fair Caroline, and two years' 
 application added to her desire of im- 
 provement and capacity, rendered her 
 so far advanced in accomplishment, as 
 to induce Sir Edward to take her north, 
 accompanied by a lady of considerable ta- 
 lent in quality of governess. Caroline's 
 retur'n was splendid to that country she 
 had left as a poor helpless babe, shivering 
 at the winter's blast, and pressed to the 
 bosom of a wandering and forsaken mo- 
 ther. She was hardly seventeen when 
 placed at the head of the most brilUant 
 establishment in Scotland, and avov/edly 
 destmed bv her father to wed with no-
 
 65 
 
 biiity. Could money purchase the distinc* 
 tion, Sir Edward's overbeaiing disposition, 
 his firm determination of being obeyed in 
 ought his caprice dictated, to such as were 
 dependent on him, met with no opposi- 
 tion from his gentle daughter ; from child- 
 hood she had been accustomed to bend 
 her tender form, her mild manner to sub- 
 jection. This submissive spirit endeared 
 her to Sir Edward, and rendered her an 
 interesting object to such as would have 
 otherwise considered her with disdain. 
 Caroline's beauty was delicate, her coun- 
 tenance more distinguished for expression 
 than feature : it was such as a painter 
 would have bestowed on a seraph. Sir 
 Edward, as he contemplated it, fancied al- 
 already a ducal coronet on her brow ; 
 meantime his daughter mused on Irvin. 
 
 The governess chosen by Sir Edward 
 was fully competent to the task of her pu- 
 pil's improvement, and her selfish disposi-
 
 66 
 
 tion, rendered her as useful to the father. 
 When Sir Edward conversed with her 
 first, and previous to leaving London gave 
 her instructions concerning Miss Rose, 
 these were his words : " Guard her from 
 foolish attachments; if I sacrifice my whole 
 fortune to bribe the pride of ancestry, 
 she shall marry greatly, but I swear if she 
 opposes me in this, no hour, no season, no 
 past oath, shall prevent me from turning 
 her from my doors, to perish miserably. 
 If, on the contrary, through your means, 
 and your instruction, she have no will, 
 no choice, no love, but such as I point out, 
 depend on receiving from me a compli- 
 ment" 
 
 The promise of Sir Edward sunk on 
 the riiercenary spirit of Miss Delville, she 
 endeavoured to persuade herself she did 
 her duty in her future conduct. Already 
 had she won by her carresses from the 
 gentle Caroline the secret of her love, and
 
 67 
 
 all the circumstances attending her ac- 
 quaintance with Irvin, but as yet, she for- 
 bore to apprise Sir Edward of her discovery. 
 The hour approached when Irvin and 
 his Caroline were to meet, far other, than 
 they parted. 
 
 Thus -far, reader, the author has pur- 
 sued the story, the heads of which Mr. 
 Angus related to his new acquaintance, 
 with more brevity and simplicity of style, 
 than is here presented j that gentleman, 
 however as he came to the period of his 
 narrative, when he had formed an inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the lovers, became 
 more warm in his descriptions, and thus 
 proceeded : — 
 
 In an attack on a vessel of superior force, 
 Irvin received a severe woimd on the 
 head, which ultimately deprived him of 
 sight J this misfortune occasioned his leav- 
 ing a service in which his career had been 
 marked with glory, and he retired with a
 
 68 
 
 liandsome pension to his paternal property 
 in Stratherrick. As boys, Irvin and myself 
 had been attached j together followed moun- 
 tain sports, together conn'd youthful les- 
 sons, and to my bosom only had he con- 
 lided his love for Caroline. Inexpressibly 
 shocked at the news of his misfortune, I 
 hastened to his abode, where the gentle- 
 men of the county were assembled to hail 
 his return, as a true son of his country, 
 and express at the same time, admiration 
 of his conduct, and pity at the termina- 
 tion of his career. To my surprise and 
 joy, Irvin appeared in health, his wound 
 had by no means disfigured his person, 
 and gazing on him, I thought I had sel- 
 dom seen so fine a young man ; he was re- 
 signed to his misfortune, and but for the 
 sable band that was passed across his eyes, 
 a^ stranger would not from his manner 
 have perceived the deprivation. When 
 the interest excited in the country, allow-
 
 69 
 
 ed of our being in private, Irvin enquired 
 in a faukering voice, if Caroline were well 
 and happy. 
 
 I recapitulated the events that had ta- 
 ken place at the Castle since his absence | 
 and as I told, that, the neglected child of Sir 
 Edward, was now its proudest boast ; ob- 
 serving the agitation of my friend, 1 ad- 
 ded, doubtless for your sake, for you, she 
 has thus prospered. 
 
 No, Angus, (replied the generous youth), 
 all I have asked, all I have wished, is gran- 
 ted. I cannot forget I am her friend ; as 
 such, I must not even think her mine. 
 
 In a few days Sir Edward called on my 
 friend. His m.anner was so cordial, I was 
 assured Caroline had not excited suspi- 
 cion 5 he spoke of her illness as having 
 prevented an earlier visit, and pressed us 
 both to ride over and pass some days at 
 his residence. I trembled for my friend ^ 
 the entrance of a gentleman prevented a
 
 70 
 
 decision respecting the invitation, and Sir 
 Edward departed. 
 
 I augured ill of the lovers meeting un- 
 der the present circumstances, and advis- 
 ed Irvin to defer his visit, if not wholly- 
 refuse it J mean time, I was his constant 
 attendant, he leant on my arm during hia 
 walks. I guided the reins of his horse, in 
 our rides, and constantly accompanied 
 him. in the visits he was urged to pay in 
 a country that run-^ Vv-jth praise of his 
 bravery and regret for his fate. During 
 this intercourse with the neighbouring fa- 
 milies, Irvin could not avoid hearing the 
 general opinion of Caroline. As her vir- 
 tues were extolled, her gentleness com= 
 mended, he pressed my arm with an em.o- 
 tion of pleasure. He sighed as her beau- 
 ty became the theme. Never, said he, 
 shall I gaze en her improved charms ; wit- 
 ness the sweet blush that tinges her miOdest 
 face ; nor view its mild e^'^pression more.
 
 71 
 
 Many spoke of conjectured alliances ; 
 but, as yet, Sir Edward was believed not 
 to have made his election, though his 
 house became the centre of attraction to 
 the wealthy and the noble, from the mag- 
 nificence of his establishment, and the 
 charms of his daughter. 
 
 When at length Sir Edward's repeated 
 invitations overcame objection, and even 
 Irvin pleaded with me to hear the voice 
 of Cai'alin^ again, I cg.nseiited to accom« 
 pany him to the Castle. 
 
 We approach the woods, said I to my 
 friend, as the weaving avenues to Sir Ed- 
 ward's abode opened to our view. Irvin 
 was silent ; he seemed lost in thought, and 
 the agitation of his mind flushed his cheek 
 to crimson. 
 
 As we slowly rode on, my reflections 
 on the probable consequences of the ap- 
 proaching meeting between Miss Rose and 
 her lover, were diverted by the appear-
 
 72 
 
 ance of a lady on horseback before us in 
 the avenue. Her figure, and the grace, 
 with which she rein'd in her horse as she 
 hngered, as in expectation of some one, 
 her servant, as I conjectured, from her 
 being unattended, convinced me it was 
 CaroKne. 
 
 As we approached, she turned her head, 
 and turning deadly pale, with difHculty 
 kept her saddle j my friend's name broke 
 from her palUd lips, v/ith a fervency that 
 shewed how it had been treasured ; how 
 memory had cherished it. 
 
 Irvin started at the sound ; 'tis Caroline, 
 exclaimed he, I know that voice, Irvin 
 returns, but changed as he is, do you ac- 
 knowledge him ? 
 
 Could I forget you, cried the tender 
 girl, bursting into tears ; forget my first 
 friend, he v/ho when all else disowned me, 
 cherished and respected me. Oh ! never. 
 I cannot wish you to love me, observed
 
 73 
 
 my friend ; his voice was tremulous and 
 low. 
 
 Heaven is my v^itness, (replied Caro- 
 line, forgetting in her earnestness, ^that 
 their interview was noticed by Irvin's 
 friend,) never were you dearer, never 
 more desirable to my heart than now ; 
 your misfortune has but increased my at- 
 tachment, accept my services during the 
 remainder of your life. 
 
 Your services, Caroline, no — could I 
 protect you, guard, support you ; offer 
 you an equivalent for your noble sacrifice 
 for my sake, then might I admit the hap- 
 piness you alone can bestow to Irvin — 
 but it is otherwise, and I am yet your 
 friend, and never wdll blight your youth 
 by such an union. 
 
 Madam, exclaimed I, your servant ap- 
 proaches J my friend is on his way to the 
 Castle, I conjure you to be guarded ; Sir
 
 74 
 
 Edward's hopes, his resolutions, concern- 
 ing yourself are but too well known. 
 
 Irvin dropt the hand that had grasped 
 his, as he rode near his mistress ; she 
 looked at him tenderly, and waving her 
 hand to me, rode swiftly away. 
 
 My friend, however he had believed 
 himself capable of sustaining an interview 
 with Caroline, shewed so much agitation 
 in his m.anner, that I was rejoiced to find 
 on our arrival, some hours would inter- 
 vene ere the time of Sir Edward's guests 
 assembling to a late dinner. 
 
 The apartments to v/hich we were 
 shewn, adjoined each other ; and, ere Ir- 
 vin met Sir Edward, I partly succeeded 
 in calming his feeUngs. 
 
 The hospitality of our entertainer was 
 proverbial ; the magnificence of his ban- 
 quets the wonder of the country. A 
 board was daily spread with every luxury ;
 
 to 
 
 a numerous retinue gorgeously arrayed^ 
 attended ; and musicians of skill, added 
 by harm.ony to varied pleasure, as my 
 friend, leaning on my arm, entered the 
 salloon, where a numerous party were as- 
 sembled, paying court to Caroline, the 
 rising sun. All eyes were directed towards 
 him ; his manly and elegant form, and 
 the interest excited by his misfortunes, 
 rendered him an object of their attention. 
 Sir Edward led his daughter towards her 
 lover, and bade her welcome him. Irvin 
 started and reddened. I pressed his arm, 
 and he resisted the feeling that would 
 have impelled him to kneel before her. 
 From this time they were inseparable. Sir 
 Edward, as impelled by some fatality, fan- 
 ned the lovers' flame ; and, blind to the 
 partiality all else discerned, encouraged 
 Caroline to sing, to play on the harp, and 
 read to Irvin. Left together during the 
 long mornings, in which the guests of Sir
 
 76 
 
 £dward were variously occupied, my 
 friend's treacherous heart could not resist 
 the fascination ; and forgetting his former 
 determination of avoiding the gentle Ca- 
 roline, passed his hours as entranced by 
 her spells — these were but a voice of mu- 
 sic, words of tenderness, and attentions 
 of the heart. Miss Delviile's indisposition 
 prevented her being a check on these in- 
 terviews, and Caroline, though in the 
 first period of their acquaintance, she had 
 been induced to confide to her the attach- 
 ment of her childood, had now become 
 more acquainted with her character, and 
 forebore to speak of Irvin when she vi- 
 sited Miss Delville's chamber. 
 
 Perhaps a pair more interesting than 
 the unfortunate Irvin and his Caroline, 
 could not be found in the annals of love. 
 The patience with which his mind had 
 hitherto borne his deprivation, now faded
 
 77 
 
 before the desire of beholding her he lov- 
 ed. 
 
 I hear of your beauty, (would he ex» 
 claim,) well do I remember its spring, Ca- 
 roline ; it seems the only light that breaker 
 on my darkened vision ; none that praise 
 you, view as I would ; yet this is denied, 
 never again shall J behold your lovely face, 
 your graceful form ; gaze on your eyes of 
 softest blue, or part on your fair forehead 
 its adorning tresses. 
 
 Thus would Irvin apostrophyse his fair 
 mistress, on wnose race no smile appeared 
 unless she was engaged in his service. My 
 friend was wrapt in Elysium, and marked 
 not the moment of his stay. I fancied at 
 length Sir Edward wore not his accustom- 
 ed complacency ; when I spoke of depar- 
 ture, he heard me coolly, and the intreaty 
 of stay, on which Irvin's happiness depend- 
 ed, was not given. He was compelled to 
 
 VOL, I. D
 
 78 
 
 bid his Caroline farewell, and their first 
 and last embrace was exchanged. 
 
 In the quiet of his home, my unhappy- 
 friend was enabled to muse on the means 
 of promoting his beloved's happiness, and 
 to attaiii fortitude to abandon all his own 
 ]oys to secure her's. The period soon came 
 when Irvin acted as nobly as he thought. 
 
 Many noble houses had rejected the of- 
 fer of Sir Edward's alliance, on account 
 of his daughter' birth. At length. Lord 
 Fern, in consideration of the magnificent 
 dowry promised with Miss Rose, propos- 
 ed the match to his son. Mr. Grey hav- 
 ing a disengaged heart, consented to visit 
 Sir Edward ; and, should Caroline in per- 
 son and manner meet his wishes, to marry 
 her. It was this gentleman her father ex- 
 pected at the Castle, when he forbore to 
 press our stay. That Mr. Grey, when in- 
 ^troduced to Miss Rose, should become her
 
 7-9 
 
 passionate admirer, could not be wonder- 
 ed at, but though elegant, accomplished, 
 and moral, he failed to win her regards. 
 
 The intended marriage, and the exul- 
 tation of Sir Edward, became the talk of 
 Stratherrick ; nor could I prevent my friend 
 from hearing news so destructive to his 
 happiness. 
 
 When I know she consents, this mental 
 pain will be past, said he, as we spoke of 
 Caroline and Grey. 
 
 And how my friend can you know this ? 
 
 From herself; she will not refuse to 
 
 meet me. Go to her, Angus, tell her 'tis 
 
 my last request, and remind her the friend 
 
 of her youth intreats it. 
 
 Caroline met us in the wood adjoining 
 the Castle, and whilst her father revelled 
 with his guests, wept over him " far dear- 
 er than a'." I melted with compassion as 
 1 witnessed the sorrows of two beings so 
 amiable ; never, can I aver, did pair love 
 d2
 
 80 
 
 so fervently, so chastly ; nature and af- 
 fection claimed the first moments of their 
 interview. Irvin spoke of former hope, 
 of present regret. Then nobly soaring 
 above his weakness, laid all his love on the 
 shrine of Caroline's happiness ; afFectingly 
 conjuring her to marry his rival. 
 
 I know his character, (said the gener- 
 ous Irvin,) it is that of delicacy and ho- 
 nour ; rather would I resign you to him, 
 than any breathing. 
 
 Miss Rose could resist his intreaty, but 
 she had a harsher nature to contend with, 
 one who deigned not to supplicate. Miss 
 Delville now made known the secrets of 
 her pupil, and carried her papers, and va- 
 rious documents of the truth of her com- 
 munication, to Sir Edward ; and he, who 
 could warm and wound with the same 
 breath, scrupled not to denounce venge- 
 ance on the gentle Caroline. 
 
 Make your choice cried he 5 who,
 
 81 
 
 when turned from my door, will shelter 
 you? what be your fate ? prostitution and 
 a miserable death, Irvin cannot afford 
 you an asylum ; I have a deed in my pos- 
 session that renders his inheritance doubt- 
 ful. I can reduce him to poverty by the 
 contest J resolve, therefore, to become an 
 outcast, or the pride of my name. 
 
 Her lover deprived of comfort through 
 her means ; exposed without a home ; a 
 wanderer without sight j chilled the blood 
 of the unhappy girl. Alas ! (cried she to 
 Sir Edward,) I am your's, do with me as 
 you will, but respect, bef.iend, the unfor- 
 tunate Irvin, 
 
 Miss Rose on the following morning, 
 was united to Mr. Grey. As her father 
 supported her trembling steps to the car- 
 riage that waited to convey them to Lord 
 Fern's seat in Lanarkshire, he suddenly 
 stopt, and drawing a paper from his pocket, 
 D S
 
 82 
 
 Caroline, said he, present this deed to Miss 
 Delville, a reward for her care. 
 
 Better you present it, my father, cried 
 Mrs. Grey faintly, averting her head •, 
 better you present it, I feel I cannot be- 
 stow that gift. 
 
 At evening, when the gay retinue, the 
 exulting bridegroom, and the mournful 
 bride had departed ; vi^hen all was still but 
 Jrvin's heart, he intreated me to lead him 
 to the wood, and he who was intrepid in 
 battle, and invulnerable to selfish ills, wept 
 over the spot where he persuaded the only 
 woman he had ever loved, to resign him 
 for another. 
 
 Mr. Grey made the tenderest of hus- 
 bands. When, two years after her mar- 
 riage, Mrs. Grey visited Stratherrick, she 
 camie only accompanied by her infant and 
 domestics. Sir Edward and his son-in law 
 had gone on Parliamentary business to Eng-
 
 83 
 
 land, whether the delicate health of Caro- 
 line, admitted not of her going. 
 
 Irvin now exerted the virtue he emi- 
 nently possessed ; he sought not again to 
 hear the voice on whose gentle accents he 
 had delghted to dwell, or listen to the soft 
 step to which his heart had been wont to 
 palpitate. Never did Caroline and Irvin 
 again meet. Had they done so, 1 must 
 have rejoiced at my friend's misfortune 
 that he was incapable of marking the pro- 
 gress of grief on the cheek of beauty, 
 Irtin's fair rose had withered, 
 
 Caroline was never heard to complain j 
 she tried to smile on the father who had 
 sacrificed her to ambition ; but secretly 
 the worm preyed on her heart. On the 
 following year, she ceased to sigh, and all 
 Sir Edward could bestow on his natural 
 daughter, was a tomb amongst his ancest- 
 ors. My friend has never spoken of Mrs. 
 Grey since her death. Once Sir Edward 
 D 4
 
 84 
 
 met him, and in the wood where his daugh- 
 ter had last parted from her lover. Do 
 not refuse my hand, (were his words), 
 were I, Irvin, to live over again the last 
 few years, I would act differently. 
 
 Grey mourned the fate of his wife with 
 true aitection. Whilst he attended her in 
 hov Imt momanti, he karnt from her lipi 
 the particulars of her attachment to my 
 friend. His first care was to seek out Ir- 
 vin. Caroline's name was not mentioned, 
 t)ut Grey led his child 'to Jrviii^s embrace. 
 
 The prospect changes, said Angus, look- 
 ing from the carriage, and concludipig the 
 storv.
 
 85 
 
 CHi(kPTER VL 
 
 Douglas arrives in Lo7idon — Charac'ers of 
 Ton. 
 
 Douglas at the end of his journey, was 
 received with open arms by the venerable 
 Melville. Angus, who had accompanied his 
 companion to the entrance of his future 
 abode, left him instantly to seek his uncle ; 
 and the first evening of our hero's arriv- 
 al in town, was devoted to the recital of 
 every event of interest occurring, since 
 when a boy, he had left Mr. Melville's 
 care, and embarked for Barbadces. 
 
 In a few days, Douglas found himself 
 at home ; his pecuniary matters were ar- 
 ranged by Mr. Melville's banker, and every
 
 86 
 
 necessary equipment made in the style^ 
 our hero's fortune allowed. Mr. Melville 
 had mentioned Lord Morven and Angus 
 in terms of great regard, Douglas was 
 therefore gratified by an early visit from 
 the venerable nobleman and his heir, and 
 shortly after, received an invitation to 
 dinner, in which Mr. Melville was includ- 
 ed. Angus had taken care, the friends 
 Douglas mentioned to him on their jour- 
 ney as school- fellows at Harrow, and more 
 particularly intimate, should meet him at 
 Moi\ en house. 
 
 The venerable nobleman who owned 
 the elegant residence, had both great and 
 good qualities. A wish of notoriety indeed 
 made him at times the dupe of the rists 
 of less intellect than himself -, but when 
 the reader considers how limited the field 
 of fame, or uncommon exploit is become, 
 Lord Morven, may be excused. One noble 
 distinguishes himself on the coach-box ;
 
 87 
 
 another by bringing a venerable father in- 
 to a court of justice ; a third sells his child 
 to the hoary debauchee, with whom his 
 worst hours have been spent 5 and more^ 
 dishonourably give up the trust consigned 
 to them at the altar, and imblushingly 
 come forward to claim pecuniary repara- 
 tion. To this right honourable notoriety, 
 Lord Morven, could neither by blood or 
 principle aspire. Since then his life was an 
 example of what birth should be dis- 
 tinguished by, what mattered it, if the 
 eye of another saw not so clearly as his, 
 the meaning of an illegible inscription, or 
 that he occasionally neglected the beau- 
 ties of Terra Firma for aquatic belles. 
 
 Douglas' Harrow associates, were invit- 
 ed more out of compliment to him, than 
 from any particular esteem in which they 
 were held by Lord Morven or Angus; the 
 latter who had heard his fellow traveller 
 expatiate on the pleasurable meeting he 
 d6
 
 88 
 
 anticipated with the companions of his 
 boyish days, and who was more acquaint- 
 ed with the apathy of modern manners 
 than our hero ; could scarce refrain from 
 smiHng at the astonishment Douglas ex- 
 pressed at the unconcern with which 
 Lord Vain, Colonel Bryan, and Mr. Ma- 
 hon, heard of his danger and his escape. 
 As however, his fortune became the topic 
 of conversation, this indifference wore 
 away, and on parting, their overtures were 
 too pressing to be resisted. 
 
 When Douglas, two days after, called on 
 Lord Vain, whom as a wild boy, he had 
 often extricated from scrapes both literary 
 and pecuniary; he was received with some- 
 thing of the manner that has for some 
 years been obsolete amongst men of fash- 
 ion. This leader often condescended to 
 humour the prejudices of one who might 
 be useful to him; and in consequence laid 
 5^idethe contradicting reparteejthe person-
 
 89 
 
 M jest, and the rude familiarity that render- 
 ed him the envy of less courageous men. 
 Lord Vain, had four years before succeed- 
 ed to his father in the possession of a con- 
 siderable property, and was already dis- 
 tressed for money, that is for the payment 
 of all just demands ; for as to specie for a 
 gambling debt, the indulgence of a cour- 
 tezan's caprices, damages at Doctor's Com- 
 mons, or the refinements of luxury, no 
 man had more than his Lordship — with 
 little talent but for intrigue, a person of 
 aukward proportion, and features more 
 expressive of effrontery than intellect. It 
 might be reasonably supposed his Lord- 
 ship was not high in the estimation of the 
 fair ; the direct contrary was however the 
 case, and the court beauties, from the old 
 Countess of Evergreen, down to Lady 
 Charlotte Darville, declared him iresist- 
 ible Marriage, Lord Vain had not tried ; 
 the Duke of Lanville's daughter, supposed
 
 90 
 
 the greatest fortune in England, was yet 
 in the nursery ; and by the time she was 
 marriageable, he calculated that dissipa- 
 tion and him would have shaken hand for 
 age. 
 
 Douglas, as has been observed, was re- 
 ceived by this accomplished nobleman 
 with something Uke courtesy ; he ever af- 
 fected an interest in his concerns, and 
 shewed it by coolly hinting two or three 
 honourable, easy ways, of spending as 
 many thousands with little trouble to the 
 parties concerned. Your's is a cottage 
 fortune Douglas, said Lord Vain, you must 
 either increase or diminish it to make a 
 figure ; medium are not to be borne. 1 am 
 for instance, always as rich as Croesus, or 
 as poor as a knight of Windsor j my mis- 
 tresess are either giants or dwarfs ; and as 
 to literature, for, as we are seated in a lib- 
 rary, the thing occurs, I like its octavos, 
 the fine bust of Sam Johnson, and the
 
 91 
 
 treble'of Petrarcha. Do you go to Mahon's 
 concert, I think he invited you at Mor- 
 
 ven's ? 
 
 Both Mr. Melville and myself, said Dou- 
 glas, are too passionately fond of music, 
 to fail 
 
 Ay ! do go, (cried Vain, yawning,) do 
 go, I'm quite alive at the idea of an Irish 
 concert, Erin go bragh, I suppose relieved 
 by sprigs of shelalah. By the by, Alfred, 
 sink Melville in your discourse, your be- 
 haviour to him at Morven's dinner, occa- 
 sioned my being asked whether he were 
 your tutor or grandfather. 
 
 I should thought Mr. Melville too ge- 
 nerally known for such a mistake, observ- 
 €<i Douglas, coolly as he rose. 
 
 What, you are going, my good fel- 
 low, your bow is elegant enough, but no- 
 body bows, now, so don't forget the hint. 
 
 From Lord Vain's, Douglas went to the 
 house of Colonel Bryan, who had lately
 
 92 
 
 married a city heiress, and commenced an 
 establishment more expensive than ele- 
 gant ; the stranger was ushered into the 
 bride's boudoir, and introduced as the Co- 
 lonel's early friend. Bryan, who was a 
 fine dashing young man, had been remark- 
 able for judgment in beauty long e're any 
 other sprung; Douglas was therefore some- 
 what surprised, as he glanced towards the 
 lady of his choice ; but want of money had 
 taught Bryan philosophy, as far as matri- 
 mony went. Other matters might be elu- 
 cidated by the Duchess, who leant her 
 fair form, in contrast to Mrs, Bryan's on 
 the opposite ottoman, and who was known 
 by the veriest child, at the west end of 
 the town as the Colonel's particular friend. 
 The highest act of friendship her Grace 
 however conferred on her lover, was, in re- 
 fusing to take advantage of a moment of 
 false courage, in which he had actually of- 
 fered her marriascec
 
 93 
 
 No Charles, said she, this were to ruin 
 us both in love and fortune, you may do 
 better, / can. Bryan took such disinterest- 
 ed advice, and added Miss Doublerefined's 
 lozenges to his arms. 
 
 Expecting the bride's mental qualifica- 
 tions would compensate for want of per- 
 sonal attraction, Douglas endeavoured to 
 engage her in conversation j but the Co- 
 lonel more jealous of her words than per- 
 son, continually interrupted what she said, 
 or seemed to say with, I perceive you 
 are about to express my thoughts on the 
 
 subject; allow me to explain, &c. kc. 
 
 The Duchess, meantime was sketching a 
 design for the emibroidery of her dear 
 friend's presentation dress; occasionally 
 glancing archly from the corners of her 
 dark eyes at the gentlemen ; Douglas at- 
 tracted by the elegance of her person, and 
 the captivation of her manners, soon left 
 the bride of eighteen, for the coquette of
 
 94 
 
 sixty, but greater personages kept him in 
 countenance in this matter. 
 
 Her Grace had too much poUcy, to al- 
 k)vv a first look of an admirer to be an at- 
 tentive one. Contenting herself, therefore, 
 \\dth requesting Bryan to bring his friend 
 to Hastings House, she rose to take leave. 
 Mrs. Bryan, overpowered by her Grace's 
 condescension in passing the morning with 
 her, and exerting her fancy for her adorn- 
 ment, almost sobbed her thanks. The 
 simpleton, in a kind of Margate-IiQij fare- 
 %vell^ hoped she v^ould love the Colonel 
 for her saJce, The Duchess promised to 
 tri/ — and, led by Douglas, gayly tripped 
 to her carriage, where her humble friend, 
 Miss Brown, had been patiently waiting 
 her leisure, during the Jbu?^ Iiotirs passed 
 at the ColoneFs. Her patroness was, how- 
 ever, received with smiles, and was, as 
 usual, obliged to guess her amiable friend's 
 meaning.
 
 95 
 
 Oh the creature, (cried the Duchesji, 
 throwing herself back as the carriage drove 
 on,) the vulgar creature, I shall expire 
 with confusion as I lead her up to Ma- 
 jesty. 
 
 How beautiful, exclaimed the obsequi- 
 ous Miss Brown, as she bent to examine 
 the rich bracelet that bound her patroness's 
 wrist. 
 
 Ay, a present, a token to remember her 
 by ; as if one could ever forget her. I 
 dried her tears this morning. Bryan ha^^ 
 not been home all night, and nothing but 
 frays with watchmen, naughty women, and 
 robbery find murder, ran in the Temple 
 Bar imagination of his spouse. I thought 
 she once looked at me with meaning, but 
 that w^as only a qualm. Poor Bryai, his 
 misfortunes call for all my consolation. 
 Brown ; but remember you ask Mr, Mel- 
 ville's steward something concerning a Mr. 
 Douglas, and if the Countess of Revel, or
 
 96 
 
 the widow Insurance, are yet acquainted 
 with him. 
 
 Your Grace, (cried a faithful old ser- 
 vant, hobbling up to the coach door, as it 
 stopt at Hasting's house,) Lady Euphrasia 
 is ill, very ill, I sent every where in search 
 of your Grace. 
 
 I understand nothing of children's com- 
 plaints, (said the tender mother,) send for 
 Sir Martin Julip. Idickens, your abrupt 
 manner has struck on my nerves ; an ex* 
 tension of my ride will perhaps relieve 
 me, Lancaster's William. 
 
 Whilst Sir Martin is persuading Lady 
 Euphrasia to take her mixture, with the 
 same indifFerence expected from her in 
 matrimonial matters, and her nervous mo- 
 ther turns over Madame's finery, and talks 
 of a bill payable next century, the reader 
 will accompany us to Mr, Mahons»
 
 97 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Preparations for a Rout — A^i Irish To 
 mily — Modern Friendship, 
 
 LiOOK, cried Malion, as he seized our 
 hero's arm on his entrance, and dragged 
 him to every corner of his metamorphos- 
 ed abode ; look Douglas, the passages are 
 all labyrinths and wildernesses \ and here 
 under the stair case, I have turned the 
 house maid's broom closet into a Hermi- 
 tage — here the old butler is to sit all night 
 in his spectacles over the house-keeper's 
 large book, with " sweetest sweetest 
 melancholy," over his head in coloured 
 lamps. 
 
 Give me credit for that idea, Carol, 
 (cried Miss Mahon, whose vivacity in her
 
 98 
 
 address was by no means checked by the 
 shortness of her introduction to our hero,) 
 there has been nothing like it this season 
 Mr. Douglas, I beg you to admire the ar- 
 rangement. 
 
 You may come, as you will, (cried her 
 sister Julia, with more point than she w^as 
 aware of,) some of the company will have 
 characters, the greater part none, and 
 you know those that are assumed, may 
 be thrown off at will, only wait till some 
 great person gives the example. The 
 Duchess of Hastings promised me to be 
 here early, to give the thing eclat. Julia 
 run to my w^oman, if she is making out 
 an account of the evening for the Morn- 
 ing Post, tell her not to forget the Du- 
 chess ; and Julia, to remember the beau- 
 tiful Clementina Mahon w^as in blue and 
 silver, and attracted universal admiration, 
 
 Mahon whistled, and Alfred looked sur- 
 prised. Oh we must anticipate (cried the
 
 99 
 
 ■i. 
 
 young lady, und^standing the expression 
 of his countenance,) how else could the 
 description of the night come out to the 
 citizens' breakfast tables, at the moment 
 the last carriage was driving from our 
 jdoor. 
 
 Miss Mahon was right — ^lier woman had 
 however invaded another's province ; the 
 crowd of antiquated chaperons who fre- 
 quent all parties, are the secret sources" of 
 information, and make an appearance of 
 retiring three hours sooner than other peo- 
 ple. A crowd ©f Dramatists too may be 
 seen who attend to mark every variety in 
 fashionable conversation, in order to in- 
 troduce it on another and a better stage. 
 
 I have invited Opal, said Mahon to his 
 sister. 
 
 Then I hope (replied she, imitating with 
 some archness, Opal's lisp and style of po- 
 sitive assertion,) he will be sincere, inge- 
 nuous, and own our party a good thing.
 
 100 
 
 The following evening, the world of fa- 
 shion assembled at Mahon's door. Per- 
 haps thirty of the gay multitude kne'w the 
 family whose invitation they had thus gra- 
 ciously accepted, or had enquired in the 
 interval between issuing the cards and the 
 party, who were the inviters ; wdiat their 
 fortune ? 
 
 Oh, hundredth cousins to my Lord She- 
 lelah ; their capital calculated to last a sea- 
 son. 
 
 This is sufiicient for the warmth of win- 
 ter friendships. 
 
 Whilst the splendid crowd are pausing 
 in admiration of the Broom Closet, it may 
 not be amiss to let our readers into the 
 history of this infatuated family, who, 
 with Irish thoughtlessness, and Irish liber- 
 ality, were running full tilt the course of 
 fashion and of folly. 
 
 Mr. Mahon, as has been observed, was 
 educated with Douglas at Harrow^ j thither
 
 101 
 
 he had been sent by one of his guardians ; 
 who, finding Mr. O'SulUvan, (left by Ca- 
 rol's father in the same trust as himself,) 
 very indifferent, (provided he had the ma- 
 nagement of Carol's estates,) as to what 
 became of the boy ; instantly removed him 
 from a place where he had been accustom- 
 ed to run wild, and receive the adulation 
 of ignorant dependants, to run the gaunt- 
 let of a public school, where he might be 
 boxed by his superiors into humility. If 
 Mahon was slightly tinged with the vices 
 of his country, he in a greater degree in- 
 herited its virtues ; liberal to excess, his ge- 
 nerosity extended even to thoughtlessness, 
 and his noble spirit revolted alike froqi sus- 
 picion of his fellow creatures, or deniM of 
 their requests. When Mahon's studies 
 were completed, and his juvenile purse 
 tolerably well drained, he visited Ireland. 
 His English guardian was now dead, and 
 Carol by no means found his estate im- 
 
 VOL. I, E
 
 10^ 
 
 proved by the management of his Irish 
 one ; thinking, however, one rogue bet- 
 ter than many, and London dissipation 
 being more to his taste than the drunken 
 parties, and break- neck races round Castle 
 Mahon, he returned to London, where 
 his sisters had been resident at a consider- 
 able expence. 
 
 Mrs. Hervey of Prince's Square, had 
 very elegant ideas concerning her young 
 ladies ; these did Carol little good, for 
 whilst he spent large sums with honour- 
 ahles at a gaming table, and dishonour ahles 
 at a theatre, his pretty sisters formed a 
 thousand schemes of notoriety, each worth 
 a fortune. Till fifteen, the Miss Mahon's 
 had been suffered to run wild about their 
 Irish Castle, and make '•' raking pots of 
 tea \^ then three years of a London board- 
 ing-school, succeeded ; and sentiment, and 
 ballets, and music, and attitudes, came in 
 for their share of the remaining season ; so
 
 103 
 
 that when the period arrived when even 
 the modest Mrs. Hervey owned their polish 
 complete, no belles of fashion ever enter- 
 ed life with more determined resolves of 
 being all that women dared to be. 
 
 Mahon loved his sisters tenderly ; proud 
 of their beauty, he removed them to his 
 house, and objected to no expence they 
 incurred. The Duchess of Hastings, ta 
 whom Carol had lost considerably, became 
 intimate with his sisters, and advised them. 
 by all means to lay out a few thousands, 
 for the satisfaction of being spoken of. 
 
 You cannot imagine, my dears, argued 
 her Grace, how easy access to the first 
 people becomes, after a few expensive en- 
 tertainments. 
 
 I am afraid, . (said Clementina, with 
 some hesitation, though she blushed at her 
 weakness,) I am afraid my brother will 
 think the sum required, a large one. 
 E 2
 
 104 
 
 Does your brother ever think ? enquir- 
 ed her Grace dryly. 
 
 Clementina paused, then recollected he 
 had dismissed a tradesman the day before, 
 on account ^of his Irish remittances not 
 having arrived. 
 
 Well, I must however acknowledge that 
 to be a good thought, observed the Du- 
 chess, with an ironic smile. 
 
 Good God, (exclaimed Julia,) how you 
 lower my brother's consequence, sister ; 
 no person of fashion condescends to give 
 a reason to such people. 
 
 Julia is right, (said the Duchess,) there- 
 fore the only trouble that can arise, will 
 be the fancying, strange, and expensive 
 flights, and that is extatic fatigue. I shall , 
 be forced to lay asidji my weeds next 
 month, I imagine, to give a fete with de- 
 cency, as the old people say. Apropos, 
 which Gt you marries the West Indian at
 
 105 
 
 Melville's ? Julia, I suppose. Clementi- 
 na, no doubt, remains constant to the 
 Duke. 
 
 The girls were flattered, and now no 
 fear arose but that taste might be wanting. 
 
 I heard (said Miss Mahon) your Grace 
 arranged the decorations of Lady Mobbit's 
 last entertainment ; is it true she has lost 
 all, is reduced to live the remainder of her 
 life in an odious farm house, and has no 
 carnage, no servants, no friends ? 
 
 PoorMobbit (cried the humaneDuchess) 
 she had almost escaped — the town have 
 forgot Iier — had she died gloriously, girls — 
 staking her last guinea — squeezed to deatli 
 at a rout — of love, or jealousy, or any other 
 exit becoming a dowager of eighty, I could 
 have forgiven hor, but it was of pique 
 poor Mobbit uied. 
 
 Gh, you know all about it (cried the 
 Mahon 3 in a breath,) it will be no breach 
 of confidence to tell us. 
 E 3
 
 106 
 
 Thus, then, it was (replied the noble 
 Lady) ; poor old Mobbit had hardly been 
 seated in her pagoda, at Ealing, than a 
 novel came out, in which was one haugh- 
 ty character nobody could mistake. I 
 took the book myself, with the most 
 friendly intentions possibly, to Whim wham 
 House, netted v/liilst Pvlobblt raved and 
 talked of Socrates, as she tore her wig. 
 Presently came in a dozen more friends, 
 each with a copy of the delectable book. 
 This kindness overcomes me, cried the 
 Lady of Whim wham, sinking on the soph a 
 in a fit, the party had only told lialf their 
 acquaintance,, so hurried off for the infor- 
 mation of the rest. Mrs. Loo alone re- 
 mained ; her short pursy figure twisted 
 into a semblance of serious thought. I 
 know her, cried Mobbit, starting up, I 
 am convinced now ; she shall know what 
 it is to offend a woman of rank. 'Tis^ 
 (whispering Loo) I know it is.
 
 107 
 
 I Have traced the matter home to her, 
 replied Loo. And what did she say, de- 
 manded the enraged dowager ? Pointed 
 to the list of characters we had requested 
 her to defame, and to the unfortunate slip 
 of paper carelessly inserted in the leaves of 
 the book I lent her. What paper, (cried 
 the almost exhausted Mobbit) ? Mrs. Loo 
 whispered, but not so low as to escape 
 my ear, " if any gentleman waists a 
 
 place '* 
 
 We are ruined (cried Lady Mobbit, 
 forgetting my presence), offer her any 
 money for tliat fatal paper. Nothing will 
 induce her to give it up (said the confi- 
 dent), she assumed the dignity of nobili- 
 t)^, as she told me, for the sake of the vir- 
 tuous woman allied to you ; it should be 
 sacred unless she should be compelled to 
 produce it when " truth should be de- 
 clared a libel." 
 
 E 4
 
 108 
 
 We can do nothing to her (said the 
 Dowager, as she dropt her clenched hands' 
 helplessly at her sides). Come, come, 
 cried I, advancing, all this may be reme- 
 died ; for instance, in these volumes, you 
 are represented as penurious ; dash upon 
 the town the veriest of extravagants, this 
 will be the " lie courteous ;" throw open 
 your doors, not for one night, but a sea- 
 son J this will be to scatter gold at the feet 
 of prejudice. Oh do, cried Mrs. Loo, 
 throw sweet-meats in the eyes of the town^ 
 the Duchess counsels well. 
 
 Mobbit called her homme-des-ailiiires, 
 who stood stupidly as she vociferated, fly, 
 buy a new carriage, widen the windows 
 tiiat I may be seen, issue two thousand 
 cards of invitation for this day month. 
 
 To — -a what — my Lady ? 
 
 A any thing— ^aWhimwham Sandwich. 
 
 Bravo, cried Loo, and bravo cried I, so 
 a Whimwham Sandwich it was; the alarm,-
 
 109 
 
 ed town flew about with guesses j many 
 believed the Dowager's marriage with 
 young Opal at hand ; some thought she 
 meditated the exit of Corinna, in full as- 
 sembly, and repeating verses of her own 
 composition ; others that the development 
 of Ton had turned her brain. 
 
 Every thing w^as strikingly in character ; 
 unfortunately a party of marauding Tar- 
 tars sat down with her Ladyship to cards, 
 and ere the sun rose not even the china 
 on which the Whimwham Sandwich was 
 served, remained to its rightful owner. 
 
 Is it true (enquired Clementina) that the 
 old Lady rose from a pond at the bottom 
 of her garden, and that the green m,antl- 
 ing pool was spread with swandown, as 
 foam from which the goddess sprung- 
 Or (cried her sister) that in the dress of -a. 
 milkmaid, she chanted o'er her pail. 
 
 No, no, (cried the Duchess, laughing im« 
 
 E.5
 
 110 
 
 moderately) these caricatures were sketch- 
 ed by myself and Bryan. 
 
 Have you seen Lady Mobbit since (sigh- 
 ed Julia, who felt something Irish about 
 her heart, and was sorry for so tragic a 
 termination of the fete) ? 
 
 Lord my dear, I was one of the Tartars ! 
 
 The Miss Mahon's might, from the 
 above conversation, have reasonably sus- 
 pected her grace's disinterested offers of 
 service ; but the witcheries of a Duchess 
 are infinite, they are privileged beings not 
 to be judged by the rules of action, to 
 which meaner minds are subject. As Sir 
 Anthony Absolute graciously fancied for 
 his son ; they breathe not the same at- 
 mosphere, they have a sun and moon of 
 their owoo
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 The Mahons at home — a Syren — characters 
 about town. 
 
 The decorations of fashionable rooms, so 
 nearly aproximate ; so wearisome a same- 
 ness of festoons, lamps, and exotics pre- 
 vail, we cannot wonder at the rapture 
 at which the novelties of Miss Mahon's 
 fancy were received ; or at the exclama- 
 tion of the fashionables, when the Her- 
 mitage and a transparency of the Giant's 
 Causeway were discovered. The Duchess 
 of Hastings, as Diana, slid by, and sent 
 one of her nymphs to teaze the Hermit. 
 
 Lady Florist toss'd choice flowers from 
 the balcony to her servants below, 
 E 6
 
 112 
 
 The Hon. Mrs. Bawble found a brilliant 
 broach. 
 
 The Countess of Crim Con met her di- 
 vorced Lord and his bride, and, in a fit of 
 jealousy, made an assignation with her 
 late husband. 
 
 Opal the dramatist, noted in " asses 
 skin so white," a dialogue between two 
 lovers of Ton, for his next theatrical me- 
 lange. — Thus it ran — 
 
 " Sir John Boxly, yours — bending. 
 
 " Miss Dasher, the humblest of whips — 
 
 bomng may I run against Grosvenor 
 
 corner, if I ever saw you appear to more 
 advantage than in the square the other 
 morning. 
 
 " Or I, you. Sir John. 
 
 '• Why my divine creature, I flatter 
 myself I made a figure, nosegay, bays, 
 whips, dialect, all suitable ; give my gen- 
 tility to the servant to keep for me till my
 
 113 
 
 return ; honour me by adding weight to 
 the linnet. 
 
 Oh (cried Miss Dasher, affecting to 
 pout), You have a friend, the Lady you 
 drove from the square ? 
 
 Cut my leaders if it was any other 
 than old Mrs. Mad- Cap, she has no head ; 
 giddy as a goose, put her out at Kensing- 
 ton gate — but you, you are different, you 
 have courage for any thing — I dont flatter 
 — lame my horses if I do. 
 
 Characters for my next sentimental co- 
 medy, said Opal, closing his tablets with 
 a satisfied air. 
 
 Those who have written for the stasre, 
 but in vain ; or who have been entitled to 
 thousands for received, admired, applauded 
 talent, and drawn a bill for the amount 
 on Phaeton, will wonder at the security 
 with which this drone sucked his hone v. 
 Reader, Opal's plays were always read ; 
 nay, in spite of hisses, acted. 'Tis the
 
 114 
 
 Italian mode of applause, said one of the Au- 
 thor's friends, the first night of " the Syl- 
 phiads of the Air" being performed ; and 
 when even actresses seemed too modest for 
 an advance. You may know by that sound 
 none but people of condition, or travelled 
 nobility, filled the hoHse. This was said 
 to the Editor of a Newspaper — what won^ 
 der, the Sylphiads of the Air came put at 
 morning undismayed by the theatric storm 
 of the preceding night. But better than 
 this reader. Opal was paid. He was a 
 thin young man, of what young ladies 
 would term an interesting appearance; 
 his pallid cheek rouged, and his voice just 
 lisping Cupid's notes. No belle of fashion 
 softening her voice to modish society, af- 
 ter a summer in the country, could whis- 
 per like Opal. With the women of fashion 
 the dramatist was a favourite ; his plays 
 had deifyed them 5 Godesses in charms they 
 were allowed the mortal use of them ^
 
 115 
 
 Divinities iii never-fading beauty, thef 
 could stab, kiss, drink poison, I believe, 
 and be applauded when the curtain drops. 
 
 Happy inconsistency ! over whose def or- 
 mity a gaudy tissue of affectation and ro- 
 mance, threw a veil none cared to remove; 
 which all were rather interested in suffer- 
 ing to remain. The Duchess of Hastings 
 was one who considered herself under an 
 obligation to Opal, as his Lady Ton ; she 
 had indeed been made to utter absurdities, 
 but the frequent allusions to her beauty, 
 and unfading charms, the old theme de^ 
 lighted her. Douglas and the dramatist 
 soon joined the groupe of young men who 
 were surrounding her grace's chair, attract- 
 ed by the weeds and smiles she wore. 
 
 Heavens ! (exclaimed the Duchess) I see 
 Lord Morven, and must be invited to his 
 breakfast of snails and butterflies next 
 week ; to go where there are few women, 
 gives one consequence,-*-go somebody and
 
 116 
 
 tell him, I pine to be bidden to his intel- 
 lectual feast. 
 
 Gin yer' grace bring us ony curiosity, 
 (said Lord Morven) ill' undertak ta intro- 
 duce ye. 
 
 Why, I bring myself; is not that a splen- 
 did curiosity P^But ye maun be novel too, 
 (observed the Peer sarcastically). Yer* grace 
 has been admired, and speir'd at by oure 
 mony, to be considered amang the rarities 
 o' our collection. Colonel Bryan caught 
 Lord Morven's eye at this moment ; the 
 auld Scot gave him a dry kind of nod, the 
 meaning of which he comprehended, and 
 which caused him to leave the sphere of 
 the Duchess attraction, in quest of his 
 bride ; he found her amusing a select cir- 
 cle, with a description of an Easter ball. 
 
 Bless me madam, (exclaimed the hus- 
 band) never mind Mrs. Deputy Dump, 
 ling's minuet, but draw on your gloves, 
 fan yourself and attend to the music. Mrs,.
 
 117 
 
 Bryan looked up stupidly to the orchestra, 
 and beheld Signora Favorita advance, her 
 arms crossed on her bosom, her large melt- 
 ing eyes turned up in invocation to Ap- 
 pollo, and her wide mouth distended in a 
 smile of satisfaction at the genius of the 
 people. 
 
 An emotion of envy and surprise was 
 prevalent among the company ; was it po- 
 sible the overtures made by the first no- 
 bility to Favorita should be refused, and 
 the Mahon*s be thus favoured ! The truth 
 was, this tyrant of harmony, had at divers 
 times, and on various occasions, refused 
 wholly, or disappointed at the last mo- 
 ment, many ladies of honour. That she at- 
 tended the Miss Mahon's, proceeded from 
 the Duchess of Hastings, who condescend- 
 ed to m.ake one at Favorita's cabinet din" 
 mrs, and who had made it her request she 
 would sing, after warbling several of her 
 native airs, Favourita indulged the won-
 
 118 
 
 dering audience with an English song^. 
 composed by Opal. Reader, if like him; 
 thou hast chanced to commit the sin of 
 rhyme, have submitted your melting com- 
 position to the eye of beauty, and been 
 fortunate enough like that youth to raise 
 at once the blush, the smile, and the tear ; 
 imagine what a poet would feel when Fa- 
 vorita, throwing her arms behind her, and 
 elevating her voice to a pitch too clear for 
 the occasion, thus parodied the song^. 
 
 Shave me, shave me, goat of love, 
 
 with sundry other particulars worthy of 
 mention ; divine, extatic, heavenly, and 
 again the proudest of favourites bent with 
 affected humility. 
 
 You like Favorita, (enquired theDuchesa 
 of Hastings, observing the attention wdth 
 which Douglas Ustened)? Infinitely (was his 
 reply,) but there is a peculiarity in her per- 
 formance puzzling to me ; no doubt can 
 arise concerning her voice^ its tones arc
 
 119 
 
 rich, clear, and capable of the greatest: 
 compass, but does it not seem as if her 
 taste were at times inadequate to the con- 
 ceahnent of her want of scientific judg- 
 ment ? One of our best male singers (re- 
 plied Angus), is of the same opinion, and 
 lately made a public trial. Favorita in- 
 capable of following his- varieties, how- 
 ever at heme in her own, was compelled 
 to stop, kiss hands, and rush out. The 
 papers pleaded the delicacy of her situa- 
 tion. 
 
 Hush, (cried Douglas,) that strain again, 
 me thinks it's not so sweet. 
 
 Yet the admirers of the opera, will tell 
 you, her twelfth encored song exceeds the 
 first. 
 
 Who (said Douglas) is this interesting 
 creature? asa modest lovely girl advanced to 
 the orchestra, simply, but elegantly clad in 
 a silver grey robe, with a rosary of pearls. 
 
 Miss Holten, her supporters are noble.
 
 120 
 
 Her countenance is a fair index, (said 
 Douglas, somewhat surprised at the insin- 
 nation, he believed to couch in his friends 
 words). 
 
 You mistake me, (cried Angus) she 
 bears a most unblemished name, I allude 
 to her having when but a child assisted at 
 a private theatre, where her engaging 
 manners, and dramatic dawnings secured 
 her the interest of a noble family, and an en- 
 gagement on the London boards. Her voice 
 is sweet and plaintive, adapted to the pa- 
 thetic English ballad, but unfortunately the 
 music she is usually called on to sing is 
 above the compass of her tones, and it is 
 only occasionally at a concert. Miss HoU 
 ten's talents can be appreciated. No one 
 who contemplates the modest graces of 
 this young actress, and marks the virtu- 
 ous tenor of her way, but must wish her 
 destined to add to the number of these
 
 121 
 
 who from ornaments of the stage have be- 
 come those of private life. 
 
 Does not pride of ancestry revolt at 
 these frequent transfers, said Douglas ? 
 
 Why, observed Angus, we have heard 
 of ladies who have exhausted their purses 
 in newspaper malice, but these paragraphs, 
 were traced to their source, and the object 
 against whom they were directed only rose 
 in estimation. I allude to the beautiful and 
 virtuous Miss Brownwell, who has lately 
 married a nobleman, distinguished for a 
 person of manly beauty, and a heart so 
 generous and noble, that no appeal of mi- 
 sery ever failed in impressing it; his lovely 
 wife bending over the most charming of 
 babes presented yesterday a picture on 
 which I delighted to gaze. 
 
 When you have finished your panagyric 
 on actresess, gentlemen (said the Duchess 
 of Hastings in a peevish tone,) I request 
 lemonade. 
 
 L
 
 U2 
 
 Douglas looked at the speaker. She ill 
 endured the praise she had never essayed 
 to merit. Colonel Bryan took the lemon- 
 ade from Altred, as he was about to con- 
 vey it to the Duchess ; and our hero walk- 
 ed away with Angus in quest of Miss Ma- 
 hon, whom they found listening to an old 
 French Count, who was apologizing for 
 the absence of his patron. He assured her, 
 De Duke vas so ver old, he no possible 
 come. 
 
 I did not expect his Grace would have 
 iwalked hither, observed the pouting Cle- 
 mentina, who had determined to wrestle 
 with death, for the Duke of Merton's Co- 
 ronet. 
 
 Ah ! charmante lady, if he come, he 
 die at your feet. 
 
 Well, (cried the lady, bridling and play- 
 ing her fan,) what then ? 
 
 Den he never come life no more, you 
 may assure.
 
 123 
 
 If I were married to him, (thought the 
 tender hearted girl,) I should find my 
 comfort in that, 
 
 I will report your look ; your vord to 
 my good Grace. It give him back his 
 spring, assurement you be von ver prette 
 girl. 
 
 Whilst our hero, who knew not Cle- 
 mentina's aim, wondered at the compla- 
 cent look with which she listened to the 
 Count's impertinence, Angus touching 
 him on the shoulder, exclaimed, " we 
 take no heed of Time.'* 
 
 Douglas turning, beheld the arbitrator 
 of hours slowly and solemnly advancing. 
 The gay and thoughtless crowd, awed by 
 the majestic step, wrinkled front, the sil- 
 ver lock, scythe and hour glass — receded. 
 
 Spare the enchantments of voice, (cried 
 Angus, pointing to Favorita, who now 
 mingled with the company an invited 
 guest).
 
 124 
 
 My power cannot be exerted in her fa- 
 vour, (replied Time,) but it will weaken 
 the impression of her powers on her ad- 
 mirers. 
 
 A woeful representative of Flora, in the 
 person of Mrs. Bryan, now advanced, and 
 making an aukward curtsey, " begged 
 Time would spare her flowers." 
 
 Rosy lady, (answered the silver -locked 
 sage,) the Bank from which your sweets 
 have sprung I only renovate. 
 
 The Duchess of Hastings, in turn, ac- 
 costed the mask, whom all guessed at, but 
 none knew ; advancing, led by Opal, she 
 gaily cried, what has Time to say to me, 
 1 whose bloom and vivacity have so long 
 defied him ? 
 
 Nothing, (said the Sage, waving her 
 from him,) he is employed in leading on 
 your daughter. 
 
 Now do be ingenuous friend, (cried 
 Opal,) be sincere j look into futurity for
 
 the flowers with which my daring hand 
 has strewn the British Stage. 
 
 Time consulted his tablets, " They are 
 preserved to remote posterity," said he. 
 
 That is candid ; that is sincere ; that is 
 not a sacrifice of veracity to a jest, (ex- 
 claimed the exulting Dramatist, and would 
 have hurried off to repeat the oracle, but 
 the Sage detained him.) 
 
 The plays of Opal are preserved, said 
 Time, as a datum for history to determine 
 in which century nonsense has been most 
 tolerated. 
 
 Come (cried Mahon, witnessing the agi- 
 tated mein of Opal, as he left unwelcome 
 truths behind him) : Mow away with your 
 scythe old darling, but do not cut so close- 
 ly. Douglas I have been looking for you. 
 Their's Vain and a few more waiting for 
 you in an adjoining room. 
 
 Douglas entering with-, some spirit int« 
 the amusement in which these gentlemen 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 126 
 
 were engaged, lost very considerably* 
 Why Douglas, who was the most gener- 
 ous or thoughtless of beings, (which, the 
 reader will decide, since one term is al- 
 ways used fer the other,) with regard to 
 money, should feel agitated, the author 
 cannot determine, unless a thought of Mr, 
 Melville might cross his mind. Lord Vain 
 gave him. a lesson of composure ; he coolly 
 pocketed Alfred's check, wished him a- 
 greeable dreams, and ordered his carriage^ 
 As Angus and his friend were preparing 
 to quit the scene. Time passed shewing 
 his glass, " the sand was run/''
 
 127 
 CHAPTER IX, 
 
 Fisit to a Mother — Angus hi Lcroe, 
 
 Calculating at a thousand a night, 
 
 Alfred, (said Melville, when at breakfast 
 the following morning, aux hero with some 
 confusion, mentioned "his loss,) your sea- 
 son will be as short as the honey moon of 
 fashion, when you have tasted of every 
 cup dissipation offers ; poor experience, 
 and dear bought judgment, will have 
 scarce wherewithal to purchase a retreat 
 wherein their reveries may be indulged. 
 Be assured my dear novice, Lord Vain is 
 without heart, and as devoid of principle 
 as any within the thoughtless circle in 
 which he moves ; but I mean not to ex. 
 
 F 2
 
 us 
 
 haust my remonstrances Alfred, since I 
 am about to pay a visit where they are 
 more needed, to the Duchess of Hastings. 
 
 She is a lovely woman, (said Douglas,) 
 and has wit at will. 
 
 Melville groaned ; yes (said he) she is 
 what the world calls a desirable woman, 
 but unfortunately unfit for any duty she 
 has been called on to perform. As a wife, 
 passing the hours of a husband's illness in 
 rout and revel — as a mother, neglectful 
 of her daughter's infancy, her rival in her 
 bloom. At sixty, Alfred, levity shocks 
 beyond the power of derision. 
 
 Sixty, (exclaimed his astonished audi- 
 tor smiling,) can the cosmetic powers ef-. 
 feet such miracles ; impossible, my dear 
 Sir, the Duchess should be sixty ! 
 
 Her daughter Euphrasia, (observed Mr. 
 Melville coolly,) was born when her mo- 
 ther had attained her fortieth year ; and, 
 though yet in the nursery, is twenty*
 
 129 
 
 High health, high spirits, the decorations 
 of fashion, restoratives of bloom, and the 
 remains of a beautiful person, compose 
 the flatterer whom last night you beheld 
 draw all admirers from more juvenile 
 graces. 
 
 You have guessed well, (said Douglas, 
 who believed an engagement mentioned 
 by his respected friend, had prevented him 
 from being present at Mr. Mahon*s,) you 
 have guessed well. 
 
 Time can reveal all, (replied Melville,) 
 
 looked in for an hour, and that hour 
 was employed as a misanthrophe ; but it is 
 time I attend the Duchess. 
 
 While Alfred walked to Lord Vain's to 
 settle his debt of honour, Mr. Melville 
 was driven in an opposite direction to Has- 
 ting's House, whose lovely owner had just 
 nsen, and was seated in a magnificent bou- 
 doir, arrayed by the most unstudied of 
 the graces. As Melville was announced, 
 f3
 
 ISO 
 
 she half rose, and welcomed him with at 
 least the shew of friendship. Seating him- 
 sdf near her, her visitor presented a let- 
 ter. 
 
 From my Lord Morven (said the Du- 
 chess, examining the seal,) the old busi- 
 ness, Angus and Euphrasia, is it not ? 
 
 I have reason (said Mr. Melville,) to 
 believe your Grace will find the Earl iiv 
 earnest; and, as your late husband's friend, 
 I request, should you reject the honour of 
 his alliance, you will give some more con- 
 vincing reason than has hitherto been of- 
 fered. 
 
 Oh, a thousand ; the youth of Euphra- 
 sia, the folly of an Opera attachment, the 
 glance of a moment. Is it not alone suf- 
 ficient that I wish my daughter to have 
 more experience ; the duties of a wife are 
 too weighty and serious to burthen her 
 with, poor little soul 5 twenty years Iience,
 
 131 
 
 Mr. Melville, will be time enough to ren- 
 der her unhappy. 
 
 And to give her the right to render 
 another so, your Grace would say. I 
 grant it, but allow me to declare my be- 
 lief, Euphrasia will return the happiness 
 none bids fairer to bestowj than young 
 Angus. 
 
 I declare Ccried the Duchesa.") I suspect 
 you of a design on the child yourself — I 
 always suspect old moralists. Cannot 
 your Grace (exclaimed Melville indignant- 
 ly) be serious, when the welfare of an on- 
 ly child is at stake. His tone was severe 
 and keen ; the Duchess coloured and 
 paused. Recovering from the shock her 
 pride had sustained, she endeavoured to 
 rally, and exclaimed, 
 
 You take the English privilege of friend- 
 ship, Mr. Melville ; I had imagined when 
 you entered, the request I wrote you had 
 e4
 
 1§5 
 
 been granted, and that you had the gal- 
 lantry to announce it yourself. 
 
 Gallantry (returned Melville, coolly) is 
 out of the question with either you or me. 
 Your Grace's request was for money, nor 
 shall you find me obdurate y give me but 
 the pleasure of knowing your consent to 
 an union between the heir of Morven and 
 Lady Euphrasia. 
 
 (The Duchess was silent, Melville add- 
 ed), Your Grace cannot be ignorant, your 
 consent is not legally necessary to your 
 daughter's marriage. 
 
 Then why demand it (cried she haugh- 
 tily).? 
 
 Because your gentle, your dutiful child 
 is incapable of acting contrary to your 
 wishes. 
 
 I have been certainly an indulgent mo- 
 ther (remarked her Grace) — Nay, I un- 
 derstand the meaning of your glance, 'tis 
 true I have not nursed my brat, taught
 
 133 
 
 It the alphabet, or mixed its medicines ; 
 but Euphrasia had whatever pleased a La- 
 dy's eye, and you must remember it was 
 my indulgence that occasioned the meet- 
 ing between the poor child and this horrid 
 Scot, 
 
 If ages does impair your memory or 
 mine (said her impatient auditor, dryly), 
 your Grace will recollect being greatly- 
 struck that evening by Mr. Angus. I in- 
 troduced him I think at your request, as 
 an elegant addition to your party ; you 
 cannot wonder Lady Euphrasia should 
 see with her mother's eyes. 
 
 Oblige nie by touching the folding doors 
 (said the Duchess) ? I think I hear Eupra- 
 sia's harp. 
 
 Mr, Melville threw open the leaves, and 
 discovered the lovers. Euphrasia, her 
 slender graceful form, clasped by a robe 
 of spotless white, over which hung her 
 locks in beautiful disorder, spread her fair 
 r 5
 
 1S4 
 
 arms across the strings of the instrumentp 
 and with downcast looks, and tremulous 
 tones, essayed her song. Over her the 
 elegant Angus hung enamoured, 
 
 A visitor (exclaimed the Duchess) to 
 me. Sir, or my daughter ? 
 
 I leave my cause to Mr. Melville's inter- 
 cession returned the youth, bowing respect- 
 fully to her Grace, as he retired, follow- 
 ed by the timid glance of his fair mistress. 
 
 Euphrasia, child, cried the Duchess, I 
 am wearied with talking of you, come 
 here — ^how she grows, Mr. Melville, four- 
 teen, if I remember aright. 
 
 Twenty, your Grace, if I do. 
 
 Nay, now you reckon like one of sixty. 
 
 Might L not retort, your Grace ? but see 
 your modest girl respectfully awaiting 
 your commands. 
 
 True — Euphrasia, I am told you encou- 
 rage the visits of Lord Morven's nephew. 
 What folly is this I hear of love and mac-
 
 l$5 
 
 riage r how can you possibly know any 
 thing of love, child ? 
 
 Nothing but what Mr. Angus has taught 
 me, (said the blushing girl, afraid to meet 
 her mother's keen ironic eye.) 
 So, and is he an able instructor ? 
 I wish no other Madam. 
 Well answered; and suppose child you 
 were to marry, what do you intend tp 
 do ? how do you intend to act ? cannot 
 the simpleton return an answer ? 
 
 Since your Grace bids me speak, (said 
 Euphrasia, her lovely face averted and 
 covered with confusion), I would be con- 
 stant, faithful, and tender, and consider 
 it a crime to destroy the happiness of my 
 husband, or trifle with my own. 
 
 Does the simpleton answer ? (enquired 
 
 Melville of the Duchess, who, in turn, 
 
 averted her eyes from her daughter, but 
 
 ^juickly recovering, she yawned and. 
 
 y 6
 
 136 
 
 stretched her elegant feet forward, ex- 
 claimed) — 
 
 Dieu ! all this is overpowering, what 
 fatiguing converse. Euphrasia, child, you 
 have destroyed me ? 
 
 Do not be alarmed my dear (said Mel- 
 ville to the dejected girl) let me lead you 
 to the gardens till her grace is sufficiently 
 recovered to receive us with composure. 
 
 When the young Lady and her guardian 
 returned, the languid Duchess had left 
 home on a tour of visits, and Mr. Melville 
 liad again the mortification of returning 
 to the Earl, without a mother's consent 
 to his alliance. Lord Morven was ex- 
 tremely displeased at the manner in which 
 the Duchess chose to wave his proposals 
 in favour of his nephew, and talked loud- 
 ly of familie, blude, and honours. 
 
 " Does she not ken, and I wager the 
 clay more o' Fergus, ye forgot to back my 
 oifer wi. The mention of that when our
 
 1S7 
 
 ancient kings spake o' the house o' Mor- 
 ven, they said, " walth, honour, rank, and 
 integritie." The stream has run to you 
 my Lord unsullied, (said Melville), and 
 I shall not be happy till my pretty Euphra- 
 sia has the honour of being allied to your 
 virtues, 
 
 Angus followed the pleader of his lore 
 to the landing place ; he pressed his hand 
 with an emotion Melville felt more forci- 
 ble than words. 
 
 Be not dejected Angus (said he), I shall 
 carry my point with this vain woman yet. 
 
 How can I return your kindness (ob- 
 served the lover^, ? 
 
 By giving as much of your society as 
 possible to young Douglas, I am alarmed 
 about him, my departure to the north is 
 unavoidably postponed owing to the illness 
 of an old friend in Derbyshire. I leave 
 town to-morrow, in order to bid an old 
 associate a last and melancholy farewell. Al>
 
 138 
 
 fred remains master of my house ; I con- 
 fess I dread the power of dissipation more 
 on a feeling than selfish nature ; the latter 
 has always self interest in view, the for- 
 mer never. That Douglas has understand- 
 ing to despise Vain, and many others with 
 whom he has intercourse, I am convinc- 
 ed, but they bring pleasures in their train 
 1 doubt he wants philosophy to resist. Be 
 still his friend, your example will do more 
 than an old man's precept.
 
 1S9 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 Douglas becoiTies a pupil of Ton — scenes in 
 life — a duel — an imejcpected arrival 
 
 Alfred, since his stay in the metropo 
 polis, had written several times to Caith- 
 ness, perhaps prompted more by the re- 
 collection of Morna, than her austere un- 
 cle. No answer had however been re- 
 turned, and believing the correspondence 
 unpleasing to his northern benefactor, he 
 had within the two last months disconti- 
 nued writing. Lord Vain and his compa- 
 nions had now more of Alfred's society. 
 The absence of Mr. Melville removed a 
 sort of constraint in his manner of life, 
 and his mind gave itself more unresisting-
 
 140 
 
 ly to amusement, from the late melancho- 
 ly tenor of his thoughts. Taste led him 
 to the pleasures of the drama, and the 
 expences of vertu ; quick sensibility, and 
 warm passions, to admiration of beauty, 
 and the female amateurs of public talent. 
 Douglas found his income sensibly di- 
 minish in the pursuits of play, parties at 
 the temples of Epicurus, and gifts to the 
 Syrens of the day. Nor were the Ma- 
 hons or the elegant Duchess less accessory 
 to the wasting of his gold ; the latter had so 
 delicate a method of pointing out a thou- 
 sand wants in her superb mansion, a man 
 of common feeling must be unhappy till 
 they were supplied ; besides, Douglas was 
 fast advancing into that sort of attach- 
 ment for this antiquated beauty that had 
 ruined wiser men ; and flattered by the 
 aSected partiality of her Grace, and blind- 
 ed by the compliments of his fashionable 
 associates, who secretly laughed at this
 
 141 
 
 conquest, Alfred began absolutely to 
 imagine himself seriously the captive of 
 ker Grace ; and to disregard the flutter 
 of his youthful heart at the remembrance 
 of the northern beauty. He was now the 
 constant attendant of the Duchess, whe- 
 ther she exhibited her mature beauty in 
 the brilliant circle j her beautiful hand and 
 empty purse in the jeweller's j or her ex- 
 hausted frame and credit at her dress- 
 maker. At all these Douglas was of more 
 import than a mere lover. 
 
 The influence of the Duchess, had it only 
 confined our hero's expenditures and pe- 
 tite follies to herfelf, might not have in- 
 volved him seriously -, but she was the ad- 
 vocate for every dissipation, and rallied 
 morality from its post. The Duchess had 
 declared no man could be ranked with 
 fashionables, whose name was not insert- 
 ed at White's and Brooke's. Jealousy she 
 was above, and with an effrontery that
 
 14g 
 
 almost lost her the conquest she had so 
 lately achieved, jested with our hero (for 
 so by the rules of romantic composition 
 we are obhged to term him, commit 
 what w^eaknesses he may), on his acquain- 
 tance with opera girls, or female Jinan* 
 eiers ; as to hif. northern beauty, her Grace 
 had drawn from him a description of Mor* 
 na, and ridiculed the flame to its last 
 spark, 
 
 Douglas now gave expensive entertain, 
 ments at an hotel in St. James' Street, and 
 became known by this most fascinating of 
 introductions, to all the young men of 
 rank about town, and received in turn, 
 the great man's smile. 
 
 Angus often met Douglas in public, and 
 sometime^ in private ; but the latter con» 
 ceiving he lived not the life, Angus term.- 
 ed one of pleasure, became insensibly cool- 
 ler than friendship. The Duchess was well 
 known to Mr. Angus, and the true reason
 
 14S 
 
 of her rejection of him for her daughter 
 was better known to him than any one. 
 The Duchess never forgave a preference, 
 however independent she was -to the per- 
 son ; and Angus by his undisguised admi- 
 ration of Euphrasia, when animated by the 
 novelty of the opera, and blooming with 
 health and pleasure, she had appeared to 
 him as an Hebe 5 had convinced the mo- 
 ther of a daughter's superior beauty. The 
 Duchess knew, that as the Honourable Lady 
 Euphrasia Angus, the hitherto concealed 
 child would become the admiration of the 
 circle in which she had hitherto moved 
 without a rival ; and sickened at a prospect 
 in which another mother would have ex- 
 ulted. Mr. Melville had been chosen by 
 a deceased guardian of Lady Euphrasia, 
 who on his dying before his ward came 
 of age, had the right of nominating a suc- 
 cessor to the trust. The measures of Mr, 
 Melville were less to the taste of the
 
 144' 
 
 Duchess, than those of his predecessor ; 
 but as the gentle Euphrasia doat^d on her 
 mother, (however unworthy of such ten- 
 derness), the good Melville gave her the 
 power of occasionally adding to a join- 
 ture, which, however splendid, .by no 
 means answered the expenditure of its 
 possessor. Had Mr. Melville been in town, 
 he would most undoubtedly have remons- 
 trated with Douglas on his attentions to 
 the Duchess ; but that gentleman was still 
 detained in Derbyshire, by the protracted 
 sufferings of the friend, for whom he had 
 undertaken his charitable visit. Her Grace 
 had the address to persuade Colonel Bry- 
 an, she only sought ridicule and pecuniary 
 advantage in her intercourse with Doug- 
 las, and a while appearances were kept up 
 by the rivals. During Alfred's frequent 
 visits to Hasting's house, he seldom saw 
 Lady Euphrasia j the Duchess a while was 
 all of women to him 5 she assumed all the
 
 145 
 
 proteus changes of pleasure to allure him 
 to her abode ; in public, he beheld her in 
 manners the most polished, in person the 
 most elegant of British beauties, and to 
 be her attendant seemed distinction. In 
 private, she was no longer the Belle of 
 fashion, the giddy and eccentric being 
 who aimed at universal conquest ; but 
 gentle, pleasing woman, solicitous to ap- 
 pearance of securing one, and devoting 
 to that favoured one, the splendour of ta- 
 lent, and the fascination of accomplish, 
 ments. As yet the intercourse was void of 
 criminality, but in intention ; the Duchess 
 saw what she termed weak points in the 
 character of Douglas, he was yet an ad- 
 mirer of even the semblance of virtue, and 
 could not bring himself to conceive wo- 
 man desirable, unless her manner forbade 
 libertinism. The Duchess's playful manner 
 extricated her from many embarassments, 
 when on the point of losing herself ire-
 
 146 
 
 trievably In the opinion of her lover. She 
 recovered so gracefully, nothing could be 
 remembered but that grace ; and where 
 exists the man who is, whilst passion lasts, 
 too clear sighted to error, when occasion- 
 ed by a rooted partiality to himself. The 
 Duchess did not escape animadversion ; 
 papers were busy with her name ; the 
 young men of fashion amused themselves 
 with the modern Enclos ; the old beaus 
 who could better ascertain the first ap- 
 pearance of this star of fashion and love 
 on the horizon of the town, rallied her 
 grace ; amongst these. Lord Morven com- 
 plimented in his dry sarcastic way, edged 
 keener by the remembrance of his ne- 
 phew. So pointed was the old Earl in his 
 remarks, that the Duchess found it poli- 
 tic to abate somewhat of her severity to- 
 wards the youthful lovers, and Angus was 
 admitted occasionally to the society of 
 Euphrasia, without, howevej:, the Duchess
 
 147 
 
 coming to any decision respecting the 
 termination of their attachment. 
 
 In the mean time, the Mahon's were 
 pushing extravagance to the verge of for- 
 tune ; fetes, masquerades, balls, and thea- 
 tricals, whirled their giddy round, and to 
 all our hero was an invited guest. His 
 handsome person, gay and pleasing man- 
 ner, and above all the countenance of the 
 Duchess of Hastings, and the e:>taggerated 
 accounts of his fortune, gave him admit- 
 ance to all of expence and fashion in the 
 metropolis. Alfred did not find this so- 
 ciety trifle with his purse ; bets, high piay, 
 -subscriptions, balls at the Argyle rooms, 
 &c. occasioned a default of so many hun- 
 -dreds, that as the time of Mr. Meivaile's 
 return approached, Douglas felt himself 
 •somewhat uneasy at owning a folly so 
 lavish. One gloomy afternoon, :.s he 
 returned from the city, where he had 
 teen to add a considerable sum to the
 
 148 
 
 debtor side of his banker's books, he was 
 surprised at hearing two women had been 
 at Mr. Melville's enquiring for him. 
 
 Did they leave no name, no mention 
 of their business, enquired Douglas. 
 
 None Sir, replied the servant, they men- 
 tioned they would come again. 
 
 Alfred was diverted from conjectures as 
 to whom these visitants might have been, 
 by a note from Colonel Bryan, perhaps the 
 most extraordinary ever penned by a mar- 
 ried man, 
 
 " Colonel Bryan requests an explanation 
 of Mr. Douglas's pretensions to the Du- 
 chess of Hastings, or the satisfaction of a 
 ma7i of honour J* 
 
 Douglas fired at this billet, and lost no 
 time in deciding between the alternatives 
 given by this man of honour ; he apptnnt- 
 ed the following morning for a meeting in 
 Hyde Park, and resolving from the na- 
 ture of the dispute, not to bring a second,
 
 149 
 
 he ordered his carriage, and drove to Has- 
 tings House. The Duchess was from home, 
 and Douglas returned to spend a solitary 
 evening, with no better reflections, than 
 his being about to engage in a breach of 
 divine and moral law ; for no better rea- 
 son than that fashion rendered a man an 
 outcast, unless he calmly met a fellow- 
 creature, resolved either to hurry himself 
 or another before judgment. 
 
 On the morrow, Douglas was at the 
 place appointed, near Bayswater Gate, 
 and some minutes before his oponento 
 The language of Bryan was intemperate, 
 and Alfred hastened to end the war of 
 words, by taking his ground, and calling 
 on his adversary to fire. The pistol of 
 Bryan was but too sure in its aim, and 
 Douglas fell, wounded severely in the right 
 side. Colonel Bryan observing people ap- 
 proach the spot, made his escape j and in 
 a few hours was out of the reach of pur- 
 
 VOJL. I. G
 
 150 
 
 suit ; leaving his unfortunate wife, now 
 near her confinement, to the ill-natured 
 condolences of the town. 
 
 Douglas was conveyed to Mr. Melville's 
 by some soldiers who had chanced to pass 
 near the scene of blood, and who were 
 directed by a card on which his address 
 was written, to his residence. It was not 
 till some hours after he recovered his re- 
 collection, his first sensation was that of 
 finding his hand clasped by some one 
 whose sobs and moans aroused him. He 
 tried to articulate an enquiry, and his cur- 
 tain being withdrawn, beheld with asto- 
 nishment, bending over him in sorrow, 
 Morna Macleod.
 
 151 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The Ejcplanation — The Return of Mi\ 
 
 Melville — Douglas leates London for 
 
 Edhihurgh, 
 
 The venerable Melville, on his return to 
 town, beheld with sorrow and astonish- 
 ment, the youth whom he regarded with 
 a father's love, stretched on the couch of 
 pain, and suffering under the consequences 
 of an offence he himself regarded with 
 abhorrence. With wonder he saw Mor- 
 na, anxious only of adding to the inva- 
 lid's comforts, or of plucking a thorn from 
 his couch. Melville would have sternly 
 questioned her ; but Angus, who had 
 been the constant, unwearied attendant 
 of Mr. Douglas, from the hour in which 
 G 2
 
 152 
 
 he had received the news of his misfor- 
 tune, waved him from the distressed girl 
 to an adjoining apartment, where he com- 
 municated to him, the following particu- 
 lars : — 
 
 Macleod, soon after the departure of 
 Douglas from Strathmay, returned to 
 his accustomed wandrings, leaving Morna 
 to the care of Janet. He had about six 
 weeks before, in crossing the Ferry at In- 
 vergordon, unfortunately perished ; the 
 boat laden beyond its power to stem the 
 current, had sunk, and but one boy 
 amongst the thirty souls embarked, escap. 
 ed. Macleod was seen to struggle awhile, 
 then sink for ever. His heir, a distant 
 branch of the house, arrived at Strath- 
 may, and no will being found, had warn- 
 ed Morna and old Janet from the Castle. 
 The relationship of which Macleod had 
 aprised Douglas, was not allowed by the 
 'Laird of Strathmay, who soon departed
 
 153 
 
 from Caithness, leaving his factor, a man 
 of stern manners ; who, having paid the 
 old woman her wages, bade her leave the 
 roof that so many years had sheltered her, 
 Morna thought of Douglas : the stranger 
 (said she, addressing her aged nurse in 
 her native language.) the stranger will 
 shelter us. Distress and indignation con- 
 spired to lull the caution of Janet, and 
 finally to induce her to this imprudent 
 step. With her pecuniary savings, her. 
 passage and Morna's were defrayed to 
 London, where fortunately the Captain 
 of the vessel pitying the forlorn condition 
 of his countr^-^'omen, had taken them to 
 the house of a relative, who kept a ready 
 made linen warehouse, near Hawley's 
 Wharf. Here they were sheltered till 
 Morna was agonized by thus meeting with 
 the object whose idea had not once quit- 
 ted her gentle bosom since their parting;. 
 G 3
 
 154 
 
 Mr. Melville was at a loss how to act in 
 a situation at once so distressing and deli- 
 cate. He felt Morna was entitled to sup- 
 port and comfort at his hands; but to con- 
 tinue her with a young man to whom she 
 was evidently most passionately attached, 
 would be a degree of impropriety he could 
 not bring himself to permit. As to the 
 old Highland woman, though the servants 
 were ordered to pay her every kindness, 
 and she had occasionally the comfort of 
 conversing with Lord Morven's domestics 
 in Gaelic ; London was irksome to her, 
 and she pined for the solitude and barren 
 wilds of Caithness. 
 
 Morna, by the care of Janet, had been 
 decently attired ; almost her last note be- 
 ing expended in a black dress for her in- 
 nocent companion. Thus habited, the 
 lovely girl appeared a delightful vision to 
 Douglas, who could scarce bear her absent
 
 135 
 
 an hour from his couch. His wound now 
 allowed of his being pronounced out. of 
 danger ; and it was not in man to resist 
 the thrill of passion that ran through his 
 heart, as he beheld the rapture with which 
 this intelligence was received by the pure 
 child of nature. Melville was standing by 
 his bed at the moment. Douglas pointed 
 to Morna. I vn\\ protect her, (said the 
 venerable man) ; you Douglas, it were 
 best, should never see her again. Morna 
 uttered a faint cry, and kneeling by the 
 bed, hid her face. Look up my sweet 
 preserver, (said Alfred,) gently laying his 
 hand on her head, whilst I have life I am 
 your friend. Morna sighed, and resisted 
 not Angus as he advanced to lead her 
 from the apartment. 
 
 It is my earnest wish, my dear Alfred, 
 
 (said Mr. Melville, some days after,) to 
 
 leave London, for nriy estate in the North, 
 
 Your health, your pecuniary losses, and 
 
 G 4
 
 156 
 
 my ardent solicitude to remove you from 
 many associates unworthy of an union 
 with your yet unconquered heart, induce 
 me to press your accompanying me. 
 
 Instantly, (cried Douglas, forgetting the 
 cause of all his pain, the fair Duchess), 
 instantly, this very hour. I am sick of 
 London, and find variety in the mere 
 thought of a Scottish residence ; but you 
 do not reproach me, worthy and revered 
 MelviUe, how much soever in mind you ac- 
 cuse my conduct. 
 
 No more of this, (exclaimed his audi- 
 tor,) you will, I trust, be taught to know 
 the value of existence, and the shortness 
 ©f life, for the purposes it was given. Co- 
 lonel Bryan ! 
 
 What of him, cried Douglas. 
 
 He is returned, said Melville; and, it 
 is said, is to marry the Duchess of Hast- 
 ings, should Mrs. Bryan obtain a divorce.
 
 157 
 
 Douglas was silent, the blood mounted 
 to his pallid face ; but scarce had the image 
 of the female libertine crossed his imagi- 
 nation, than it was dispelled by the deli- 
 cate and youthful form of Morna, hover- 
 ing about him like an angel of peace. 
 This good girl and old Janet shall go with 
 us to Edinburgh (^aid Mr. Melville, taking 
 her hand and looking kindly at her) ; she 
 shall be educated at my expence, and 
 when she marries some worthy youth, I 
 shall provide her portion. 
 
 There was something in this speech that 
 convinced Douglas, Mr. Melville removed 
 in his mind this child of simplicity and 
 misfortune infinitely below his alliance. 
 Alfred, though at the moment he would 
 not have himself, married Morna, could 
 not bear to hear of the probability of her 
 ever becoming the wife of another j and 
 expressed so much uneasiness on the sub- 
 G 5
 
 158 
 
 jert^ that Mr. Melville seeing him agitated 
 changed the discourse. 
 
 In a few days Douglas was able to tra- 
 vel, and accompanied by Mr. Melville and 
 Morna, left London for Edinburgh, by 
 easy stages, having taken the farewell of 
 friendship with the Earl of Morven and 
 the amiable Angus. Lady Euphrasia, con- 
 vinced of her mother's repeated indiscre- 
 tions, had become firm in her resolutions 
 respecting Angus, her \mion with her de- 
 serving lover ; and Angus, as he pressed 
 the hand of Douglas, bade him expect him 
 shortly with his lovely bride in Scotland. 
 
 Lady Euphrasia, (observed Mr. Melville,) 
 inherits a very considerable property on 
 her becoming of age ; one of her estates 
 adjoins mine, on the banks of Esk, a fine 
 old mansion surrounded with picturesque 
 woods ; the Duke died there, and since 
 that the family have not visited the seat*
 
 >59 
 
 Were yoi^ acquainted with the Duke 
 of Hastings? enquired Douglas, who, in 
 proportion as the distance increased be- 
 tween the Duchess and himself, found 
 nerve to enter on the history of her late 
 Lord. 
 
 I never remember to have seen him, re- 
 plied Mr. Melville, but I understand he 
 was a man of melancholy habits, and lat- 
 terly his Duchess and himself conceived 
 almost an aversion to each other; the 
 Duke I have heard had much benevolence, 
 and the poor followed him to the grave 
 with tears. Lady Euphrasia has all the 
 qualities of the heart ^aid to belong to her 
 noble father. The old gentleman proceed- 
 ed to enlarge on the topic, till perceiving 
 Morna's eyes fill with tears, he wiped them 
 with his handkerchief, saying, " and you 
 Morna will be as good and amiable when 
 this rough diamond of your mind receives 
 its polish." 
 
 G 6
 
 160 
 
 And shall I be so loved (enquired the 
 artless girl) ? 
 
 The stopping of the carriage at the inn 
 where the travellers were destined to pass 
 the night, relieved both the gentlemen 
 from the embarrassment into which this 
 innocent question had thrown them, and 
 Douglas handed out Morna without even 
 pressing the hand he held.
 
 161 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Description of a Scotch residence and its 
 scite — Douglas becomes acquainted with 
 northern characters. 
 
 Mr. Melville's residence was built on the 
 bold and picturesque banks of the North 
 Esk, to whose rock-impeded waters the 
 lawn gently sloped. The Mansion, in 
 conformity to modern taste, though a cot- 
 tage, was a gothic one ; fortunately it had 
 been built by a nobleman, who, though 
 possessed of little consistency in his con- 
 duct, had strictly preserved it in the archi- 
 tecture of his villa j thus the eye was not 
 shocked by the incongruities too common
 
 16£ 
 
 in such buildings. Lord Esk had erected 
 it as an occasional summer residence, and 
 being under the necessity, from the pre- 
 vailing opinion that London was a better 
 sphere of extravagant action than Edin* 
 burgh, of selling the lands around Glen- 
 esk, he consented to include in the pur- 
 chase that romantic abode. Mr. Melville 
 thought himself too far advanced in life 
 to build on the estate, therefore gave or- 
 ders to the gentleman, (a writer in Edin- 
 burgh) who had negociated the business 
 for him, to render it convenient and ha- 
 bitable in both seasons. Mr. Mackintosh 
 had therefore busied himself, so that, oa 
 the arrival of the travellers, on a beauti- 
 ful autumnal day, the pleasure with which 
 they surveyed the enchantments of the 
 scene, was not damped by the anticipa- 
 tion of winter hours. A small library 
 most struck the attention of Douglas, irt 
 the interior of his destined abode. It was
 
 16a 
 
 simply furnished, and opened by doors of. 
 stained glass to a secluded walk, at whose 
 extremity a branch of the Esk foamed 
 over a rocky precipice ; this apartment 
 opened to a small sitting room, pannelled 
 with views from the oencil of the English 
 masters. Both gentlemen praised warm- 
 ly the agremens of their new abode, and 
 turned to observe their effect on Morna. 
 She had disappeared, and seeking her, Dou- 
 glas found her standing on the brink of the 
 brawling stream, viewing with admiration 
 the windings of the scenery along its mar- 
 gin. In distance appeared Lass wade stretch- 
 ing its picturesque village on the borders 
 of North-Esk, whose rumbling waters lav- 
 ed onward. The ruins of Roslin, and the 
 towers of Melville, rose from woods, som- 
 bre snd deep, or partially burs ted on the 
 painter's eye, in foliage of autumnal beau- 
 ty ; the course of the river was charming- 
 ly impeded, sometimes by birch- bound
 
 164 
 
 rocks, whose fantastic foliage dipped in 
 the clear waters ; at others, by fallen and 
 knotted trunks of trees 5 again, by bars 
 but various coloured mosses. 
 
 I am happy to inform you Miss Mac- 
 leod (said Melville, advancing to the spot 
 where Morna stood), that Mr. Macintosh 
 has recommended to me, a Lady at Edin- 
 burgh, who will treat you with the ten- 
 derness of a mother, and instruct you in 
 every necessary part of education. His 
 words roused Douglas from a pleasing 
 reverie, in which he had indulged on wit- 
 nessing the admiration which his young 
 companion had manifested, at so rich a 
 display of scenery ; he had planned a thou- 
 sand rural walks, her arm entwined in 
 his ; she should be instructed in the deli- 
 neation of the views around by his pencil, 
 and here would they forget the shortning 
 of the autumnal dayc
 
 165 
 
 Morna sighed, and enquired when her 
 departure was fixed. 
 
 In the ensuing week, reply'd Melville, 
 Mr Douglas and myself go then to Edin- 
 burgh for a few days. After, dinner, Mr 
 Melville, in the presence of Pvir Macintosh, 
 whoni he regarded as aworthy and discreet 
 man ; spoke of his intentions respecting 
 Morna. 
 
 I am, said he, resolved to be that friend 
 to her, that it would be improper, a young- 
 er man should be ; a regular income shall 
 be hers, and a portion on her marriage, 
 should her choice be such as I approve. As 
 her real name is unknown to me, she must 
 continue to bear her uncle's. In ^very point 
 I will act as her friend, for I cannot forget 
 Alfred, her interposition in your behalf. 
 
 Nor can I, half sighed his auditor. 
 
 Our hero at Glenesk experienced more 
 real calm satisfaction, than he had experi- 
 enced since his arrival from Caithness, In
 
 166 
 
 London, pleasure had awhile lured his 
 youth and stilled the breathings of recti- 
 tude ; but soon the giddy scene palled, and 
 on the bed of pain, he had leisure to re- 
 flect on the short lived friendship of men 
 of the world, on the love of its women, 
 and the folly of their dupes j his days were 
 wearisome, his time seemed less his own 
 than others ; hardly had he risen from his 
 pillow, than the train who surround the 
 favourites of fortune, the ministers of re- 
 velry, came to arrange plans for the even- 
 ing ~; billei s from beauty, from sordid vice, 
 lay on his table, and scarce were the in- 
 toxicating contents perused, than he was 
 hurried to scenes where sober reason found 
 no time for thought. At Glenesk, the 
 morning found Douglas refreshed, and 
 elastic with health and temperance, he foL 
 lowed the woody haunts with his dogs 
 and gvin, enjoying the breath of the god- 
 dess of the scene, and marking in the
 
 167 
 
 pauses or his way, the varieties of her beau- 
 ty ; at dinner the man* he respected, the 
 fair being he loved with a purer affection 
 than he had ever yet felt, sat with him, 
 and added the polish of judgment, and the 
 simplicity of innocence to the conversa- 
 tion 5 a bookj or his flute filled up the 
 hours, till an early pillow received him to 
 undisturbed slumbers. 
 
 Morna's stay was protracted to three 
 weeks, at the expiration of which time, 
 Mr. Melville and our hero, accompanied 
 her to Edinburgh, and to the roof, of which 
 she was to be in future an inhabitant. 
 
 Mrs. Macneil received her pupil with 
 kindness, and Mr. Melville felt perfectly 
 satisfied at the arrangement. Janet who 
 saw nothing but good was intended to- 
 wards her ' puir bairn,' expressed so strong 
 an inclination to return to Caithness for 
 some time, that Mr. Melville agreed, and 
 generously directed Morna> as he gave her
 
 168 
 
 his purse, to defray the expence of her 
 aged nurse. 
 
 Douglas and his friend, resided when- 
 ever they visited Edinburgh at Dumbreck's 
 in St. Andrew's Square, and it was not 
 long before our hero became known to 
 the higher ranks in the Scottish metro- 
 polis. Of these, the family of the Earl of 
 St. Bernard, iind the high blooded Tay- 
 mores were the principal. Dissipation 
 here, wore a different dress, than in the 
 English metropolis ; and from its variety, 
 might be woed again. The hilarity attend- 
 ant on Scottish parties, the cheerfulness 
 of the young people, the absence of for- 
 mal constraint, and the unstudied amuse- 
 ments introduced to speed the evening 
 hour ; the song or dance, equally the in- 
 spiration of the moment, captivated the 
 young stranger ; nor on their part were 
 the Scottish families less partial to Doug- 
 las. His temper was naturally sweet, his
 
 169 
 
 spirits gay and bouyant, and by ready wit 
 and manners, denoting the gentleman, he 
 was soon a favourite guest ; Angus sent 
 him several letters of introduction to the 
 different noble houses to whom he was 
 connected; and Douglas had thus the ad- 
 vantage of being known to many who 
 conferred more honcjr on their rank, 
 than that rank on them. The Earl of St. 
 Bernard was a venerable nobleman, of an 
 healthy old age, and unimpaired intellect ; 
 ene that delighted in the society of the 
 young, and by gay, though moral remarks 
 added a flash to their sallies of cheerful- 
 ness. His family consisted of two sisters, 
 (maidens of degree, benevolent in action, 
 charitable in discourse, but tenacious of 
 their hereditary honours) and his ward. 
 Lady Lillian Bruce, termed the Flower of 
 Esk. The Taymores, consisted of a cheer- 
 ful polished widow, her son, a youth noble 
 in lineage and principle, and two daugh-
 
 i70 
 
 ters, genteel, well-bred womciij whose so- 
 ciety was universally coarted. Lady Lil- 
 lian, was on a visit in Stirlingshire, when 
 Douglas was first introduced to the St. 
 Bernard family ; but as she was the theme of 
 every tongue, of every praise, he felt his 
 curiosity strongly excited, and wished her 
 arrival in Edinburgh w^ith a degree of im- 
 patience, little dreamt by the simple Mor- 
 na, whose intercourse with Douglas was 
 now confined to a w^ave of her hand, or 
 the inclination of her head, as he passed 
 Mrs. Macneil's windows on his way to the 
 houses where he was intimate. Douglas at 
 first, had visited Morna frequently, but a 
 delicate hint from her gouvernantc to Mr. 
 Melville, occasioned a cessation of our he- 
 ro's visits ; and soon, though he frequently 
 sent her presents, the incUnation that had 
 hitherto given him so much pleasure, that 
 of being constantly in her society, sensibly 
 diminished. The warnings of passion shewn
 
 171 
 
 by Douglas, is common to young minds 
 previous to a real impression ; and the 
 change may be ascertained by beauty in 
 all else than the chosen object, becoming 
 as the finished statue, an object of admira- 
 tion, not of desire.
 
 172 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 Frejuikes , — Scots Educaiimi^ — Intro- 
 duciion to a Northern Beaiitjj, 
 
 Mrs. M'-Nell found her pupil possessed 
 of genius, much application, and an ar- 
 dent wish of excelling ; equally from a 
 desire to become acquainted with the 
 branches of education pointed out to her 
 attention, and of manifesting her grati- 
 tude to Mr. Melville. 
 
 Morna had mourned, with unfeigned 
 sincerity, the melancholy fate of her uncle, 
 and her own deserted state ; her depen- 
 dance on strangers ; her conviction of the 
 heart chilling truth that she had claim on 
 no one, never pressed on her bosom, till
 
 17S 
 
 she became an inmate of Mrs. Macneil's 
 school, and exposed to the scrutiny of her 
 companions, girls of a country where every 
 one is known, the sins of her fathers were 
 visited on her. 
 
 Mrs. Macneil observed, though jMorna 
 during her hours of study seemed to find 
 amusement in her lessons, those of leisure 
 were passed in solitude ; and that she 
 avoided her companions. The daughter 
 of Drumiask the heiress of Strathmay, 
 was likewise a pupil of Mrs. Macneil's ; 
 and, as this young lady was not only for- 
 ward and conceited, but extremely inqui- 
 sitive, she easily found out who Morna 
 was, and communicated the intelligence 
 to her friends in the school, Of this the 
 poor girl was first apprised by the particu- 
 lar emphasis with which her designation 
 Macleod^ was pronounced, when any cir- 
 cumstance occasioned their naming her. 
 Mrs. Macneil, in part, listened to these 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 174 
 
 stories, that is to the satisfying her curio- 
 sity, but not to the diminution of her first 
 passion, interest. Mr. Melville was ex- 
 tremely liberal, and on this account she 
 resolved to retain Morna ; and, as the Go- 
 verness approached the winter equinox of 
 passion,she became subject to the strangest 
 of whims ; that, believing Mr. Melville 
 was seriously captivated wdtK her, and that 
 divers sighs he had uttered, on entering 
 her apartment, and which, in a man of 
 his age, might very reasonably have been 
 laid to the account of fatigue, and the 
 length of the stair, were occasioned by 
 a tenderness for herself. Mrs. Macneil 
 had secured her interest, by publishing a 
 volume, containing ten small poems, each 
 one prefaced by a dedication and panegy- 
 ric to some noble personage. It was not 
 in the nature of things for this book to 
 fail, and accordingly several editions, with 
 a critique written by one of the flattered
 
 175 
 
 noblesse, established Mrs. Macneil's school, 
 where girls of family were only received ; 
 and when these attended the public places, 
 their governess never failed receiving from 
 the different subjects of her literary pane- 
 gyric, the most distinguished notice. Mor- 
 na did not accompany Mrs. Macneil in 
 public for some time ; that prudent wo- 
 man waited till the return of her patroness 
 from the hills, in order to explain how sq 
 rough a pebble became placed amongst her 
 ihmily jexoels, 
 
 Douglas amused himself infinitely to his 
 taste in the Scottish metropolis. He join- 
 ed the Golfers, the Archers, and the Li- 
 terati ; became acquainted with the charac- 
 ters of Edinburgh, and in the intervals, 
 perused the hesthodks^ and conversed with 
 the best men. During the seVeral winter 
 months Melville and Douglas resided in 
 Edinburgh, and the latter was compelled 
 to acknowledge that the Scots have an hi- 
 H 2
 
 176 
 
 larity in th^ir meetings, and a gaiety in 
 their converse, that warms in proportion 
 as their climate chills. The power of their 
 women, Douglas had as yet but trifled 
 with. The simple graces of Morna awak- 
 ening his feelings in moments either of 
 gratitude for protection, or compassion 
 for her deserted youth, but faintly awoke 
 the tender passion. It was destined for 
 Lady Lillian Bruce to fix him irrevoca- 
 bly, and by the union of captivating beau- 
 ty, a polished mind, and a modesty that 
 v/ondered at admiration, bound his heart 
 with roses. A miagnincent dinner, given 
 to a party of gentlemen by the Earl of St. 
 Bernard, about the commencement of the 
 year, was followed by an adjournment to 
 George's Street Assembly Rooms ; where, 
 by the side of the Earl's sisters, Alfred first 
 beheld the fair Lillian. Douglas, though as- 
 sured of an immediate introduciion to the 
 object on whom imagination had often
 
 177 
 
 dwelt, refrained from accosting Lady Janet, 
 and Maud Carrjfor a considerable time; and 
 observing the manner of their words, re- 
 joinders to the welcomes that assailed her 
 on all sides, after a long, absence, at lei- 
 suTe contemplated a woman at once a 
 beauty and a grace. 
 
 Lady Lillian was majestic in person, 
 her-K}yes dark blue, overspread with silken 
 lashes, giving inexpressible softness and 
 beauty to the full orbs. They partially 
 veiled a nose finely proportioned, mouth 
 that smiled as it parted on teeth of clear 
 unsullied white, and a skin at once bloom- 
 ing and fair, compleated a perfect face. 
 Above this charming bust, fell locks of va- 
 rious shade, over one transparent temple, 
 waved a tress of faint but glossy yellow j 
 the ash succeeds. d to contrast it beautifully, 
 and over her fair and bending neck, a 
 lock of brighter burnish clasped in its ten. 
 dril twine the breathing, animated, mar» 
 h3
 
 178 
 
 ble ; a bosom, white as the plumage of 
 the swan, rose gently beneath a white lace 
 kerchief, crossed over it, at once with 
 modesty and elegance ; from its chaste 
 confine descended a simple robe, neither 
 ungracefully encumbering the figure, or 
 wantonly unveiling it. Lady Lillian is 
 virtuous even t;) thought, (mentally ejacu- 
 lated DouglaSj as his eye took in at once 
 the beauties of her form, and the mo- 
 desty of its habiliment ;) it is thus chasti- 
 ty is attired. The Scottish beauty wore 
 BO ornament but a barcelet of pearls, and 
 a comb of the same unsullied jewellery, 
 that removed the luxuriance of her fine 
 hair partially from her forehead. The 
 Earl, on his entrance into the ball room, 
 (from which he had been detained by 
 some of his guests choosing to remain 
 longer at table than Alfred, who, know- 
 ing Lady Lillian was to attend the rooms, 
 had x^-ithdrawn early,) placed the hand of
 
 179 
 
 his ward in that of Douglas, and bade her 
 honour his young friend as a partner in 
 the dance. Alfred, as she accepted him, 
 felt a wish to find favour in her sight, and 
 exerted his powers of gaiety so successfully 
 that in the intervals of the dances, his 
 partner not only smiled sweetly, but the 
 aged dames, her companions, who had 
 been somewhat surprised at their brother 
 not pointing out the old Duke of Adra- 
 heels, as fitted in hhod to Lillian, conde- 
 scended to listen tb their conversation, 
 and join in it with as much animation as 
 served, not to discompose the rigidity of 
 their silks, during a gay dispute, in which 
 Douglas ventured delicately to hint at the 
 effects of first impressions, in a manner 
 which called roses to Lillian's cheek, and in 
 which the high born maidens joined, with 
 the prejudices of antediluvian times, when 
 even life, long as it was, proved too short 
 for the slow advances of the lover. Our 
 
 H 4
 
 180 
 
 hero was startled by a deep sigh proceed- 
 ing from some one immediately behind 
 him ; he involuntarily turned, and seated 
 amid the young ladies of Mrs. Macneil's 
 school, beheld Morna. Her face crimson- 
 ed as she caught his eye, and received an 
 embarrassed salute. 
 
 Douglas turned a^a'n to Lady Lillian j 
 in a few minutes, NIorna rose to dance. 
 
 A sweet girl, (observed the fair object 
 of Alfred*s devotion,) who is she ? 
 
 A Miss Macleod, (returned Douglas,) 
 who now perceived the Ladies of St. Ber- 
 nard were absorbed in the same contemp- 
 lation. 
 
 Gin she be fra the Isles, shes a branch 
 'o our ain, (said Lady Maud). 
 
 I believe not. 
 
 Tho she's nearer yet ye ken (said Lady 
 Janet). 
 
 Douglas felt hurt, he could not find
 
 181 
 
 courage to avow the truth that she belong- 
 ed to no one. 
 
 Morna performed but indifferently, yet 
 there was a grace in her figure, and a pre- 
 possessing modesty about her ensemble 
 that attracted attention, and excited inte- 
 rest. Douglas thought her much altered, 
 she looked dejected, sad, and mournful 5 
 her figure had lost the enbon point that 
 partly characterised it when he first saw 
 her in Caithness ; her hair was arranged 
 differently ; in short, she appeared chang- 
 ed to him, who was in fact most so. 
 Douglas looked from Morna to Lillian, 
 till he became reconciled to his apostacy, 
 and even found a philosopher's reason for 
 being in love. My sentiments for a sim- 
 ple child of nature could but be momen- 
 tary, thought he, now judgment directs 
 passion. 
 
 Mr. Melville, who had great objections 
 to the partiality at one time evinced by^ 
 H 5
 
 18£ 
 
 Alfred towards Morna, was well pleased 
 observing him a sedulous attendant of 
 Lady Lillian's during the evening, and 
 willingly accompanied him to supper at 
 the Earl's, where were assembled a party 
 of the first people in Edinburgh. If Dou- 
 glas had felt confused at the sudden recog- 
 nition of Morna in the ball-room, he was 
 even more embarassed as the Duchess of 
 Hastings came on the tapis. The mar- 
 riage of Lady Euphrasia and Mr. Angus 
 had appeared in the papers that morning, 
 and it was added, the lovely Duchess in- 
 tended to pass the spring and summer 
 with the new married pair in Scotland. 
 
 At Hastings- Castle no doubt, (said the 
 old Lady, whose keen eye shewed her 
 dislike of the arrangement). 
 
 Douglas, who had received letters from 
 Mr. Angus, expressive of his joy at an ap- 
 proaching union with the lovely object of 
 his affections, v/as no stranger to the event
 
 18S 
 
 1 
 
 spoken of; but Angus had not, when di- 
 lating on the satisfaction he should feel at 
 the vicinity of Alfred's abode to the castle, 
 mentioned the Duch^s as making part of 
 his family. He observed the reserve of the 
 females present as the Duchess was spoken 
 of, and felt how impossible it would be to 
 at once ,even know her Grace, and pre- 
 serve himself from incurring what now 
 appeared to him the greatest of misfor- 
 tunes, Lady Lillian's displeasure. He grew 
 absent, and rose almost without knowing 
 it was with his engaging partner he v/as 
 ahout to take leave ; and on Mr. Melville 
 observing, as they drove to Dumbreck's 
 that the Earl's ward was the finest woman 
 he had seen since his younger days, he 
 made no remark. That however the rea- 
 der may judge whether the opinion of the 
 gentlemen coincided, we transcribe the 
 amatory lines written by Douglas on the 
 following morning. When he rose to 
 H 6
 
 184 
 
 prepare an elegant packet for Lady Lillian, 
 containing Mrs. Robertson's sonnets, he 
 placed the effusions of his muse in the vo- 
 lume ; but fearing the resentment of the 
 retiring maid at this presumption in an 
 acquaintance of a day, they were again 
 withdrawn, nor was it till some months 
 following Lady Lillian perused the follow- 
 ing impromptu, 
 
 THE CONFESSION—^ Fragment. 
 
 A sufferer in this mental storm, 
 I've grasp'd at pleasures airy form ; 
 I've seen it in the dewy eye, 
 The graceful shape, the heaving breast; 
 I've felt it in the impa^sion'd sigh ; 
 And in the lanquid look confess'd. 
 A joy more grateful to the heart, 
 Than wealth or grandeur can impart. 
 Time was when o'er my subject soul, 
 Sweetly serene ray days v/ere pass'd. 
 Sleep then o'er all my senses stole ; 
 Each day was happier than the last, 
 "But then, even then, in fancy's dream;
 
 185 
 
 The fair bedeck'd in magic came ; 
 If laid beside the babbling stream, 
 My bosom fluttered with the flame. 
 But still its hallow'd peace again, 
 With evening's calm to me returned. 
 No more I felt the languid pain, 
 No more I thrill'd, no more I bum'd ; 
 But ah ! since then how great the change, 
 My wavering heart is doomed to fee). 
 Now Lillian can my thoughts estrange, 
 From what creates the bosom's weal.
 
 186 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 7/e progress of love — the passion felt 
 differently. 
 
 Douglas soon became intimate with 
 Lord St. Bernard's family ; it was one of 
 regularity and extreme order. In their 
 residence in Queen Street, the sisters of 
 the Earl kept up the state of Bernard Castle; 
 a numerous retinue of devoted servants, a 
 difficulty of access to strangers, a form ob- 
 servable in all their transactions with each 
 other inspired ideas of feudal days. The 
 apartment into which Douglas v/as usually 
 shown, was large and somewhat gloomy, 
 the casements high, and the furniture and
 
 J 87 
 
 pictures antique. The Ladies Maud and 
 Janet, attired in the fashion of other years, 
 were usually employed in working on a 
 frame some " auld device." Two or 
 three young children contrasting, by their 
 blooming looks, the shrivelled counte- 
 nances of their mistresses, stood near 
 \vinding worsteds. Douglas would cast 
 his eyes rapidly over the groupe, and as 
 quickly uttered his salutations ; his regards 
 and voice equally tendered, were then de- 
 voted to Lillian ; her youth, extreme beau- 
 ty, and graceful costume, appeared delight- 
 fully in the foreground of the sombre 
 scene. A small work table of ebony and 
 ivory usually stood before her, on which 
 lay her books and harp. A large old-fa- 
 shioned, but exquisitely toned harp was 
 placed on one side, from which she drew 
 tones pleasant but mournful. The gay 
 youth in this apart m.ent, in this presence 
 felt another variety of the passion, tha!;
 
 188 
 
 borne the Duchess of Hastings was a dis- 
 tructive fire, in the instance of Morna a 
 transient spark, towards Lillian a clear 
 pure flame seeming to eradicate the path 
 of his future life. To see her smile, to 
 listen to her words, those of intellect and 
 purity, seemed to constitute his all of joy j 
 and soon would Alfred have forgotten 
 every thing in the society of this charm- 
 ing woman, had he not been awakened to 
 thought by the frequent hints of the elder 
 ladies, concerning the propriety of Lady 
 Lillian's union w^ith a man of family, " It 
 is true mused Douglas mine is unknown, 
 but my father could not have been deriv- 
 ed from an ignoble stem ; my mother's 
 gentle virtues spring from ought but true 
 nobility." 
 
 Mr. Melville had often mused on the 
 subject, of the mysterious letter left by Al- 
 fred's father ; it rested in his cabinet, but 
 the period of its being delivered to the ene«
 
 189 
 
 my of Douglas's exiled parents rapidly ap- 
 proached. On the first of the following 
 July he would have attained the twenty- 
 third year of his age, and an interview, 
 should the oppressor exist, would take 
 place involving probably mvich of Alfred's 
 future fate-, Melville was now aged, and he 
 dreaded the prospects of his young favou- 
 rite. It had been perhaps ur fortunate for 
 Alfred, that he w^as independent. The 
 energy of his character had received a 
 check, and an unoccupied raind, solicitous 
 of scarce an event beyond the hour, ren- 
 dered him in the course of his short career 
 as a man of fashion, alive to the impres- 
 sions of won. an ; too indolent to remove 
 the m.ask of friendship worn by hypocri- 
 cy, or to turn aside in the path he pur- 
 sued, because he discerned reptiles in the 
 way. Alfred was accomplished, and had 
 in no place met men more to his taste 
 than in Edinburgh ; here he learnt to think.
 
 190 
 
 Lillian had taught him love, and her sweet 
 retiring eyes sought but in vain to con- 
 ceal, her feelings were reciprocal; at length 
 some lively remark of the Widow Tay- 
 more, concerning the constant attendance 
 of Aired on their fair ward, induced the 
 EarFs sisters to draw up wi:h no small por- 
 tion of stateliness, and hint to Lillian, that 
 Douglas appeared niore like an accepted 
 lover, than one who could never aspire to 
 her hand. Lillian tried to frown on Al- 
 fred, when next, blooming with exercise, 
 she saw him ride in from Gleneskj and fly 
 to her with looks of sparkling pleasure. It 
 was on this occasion the lover penned the 
 following : 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 
 When Lillian smiles, the face of day, 
 Is drest in sweets like genial May ; 
 The lustre of her azure eye, 
 Her peachy cheek of rosy dye, 
 Thrill my fond breast with soft desire, 
 And heavenly languishment inspirco
 
 191 
 
 When Lillian ffOwnSj h^w glooms the sky, 
 
 Tlic ii:hes d'oop, th ro-C; die ; 
 
 A irloomy hue invests th.* trees, 
 
 No scene delights, no b.aiities please ; 
 
 My sick'nin,^ soul dj .ghts to view 
 
 The silent^ tomb, the raour.ifut yew. 
 
 Meau while, the gentle Morna drooped, 
 and Mrs. Macr.eil made her illness a pre- 
 text of summoning Mr. Melville to fre- 
 quent interviews. That gentleman, who 
 sincerely compassionated the deserted girl, 
 
 called in the skilltul Doctor G , who, 
 
 apprehensive she threatened decline, that 
 foe to northern beauty, prescribed country 
 air, and recommended the cottage of an 
 old servant of his family at Roslin. Mr. 
 Melville gladly consented to this arrange- 
 ment, and without mentioning the exact 
 spot of her intended residence, contented 
 himself with telling Douglas in general 
 terms, that Miss Macleod had been order- 
 ed by Doctor G to the country.
 
 Alfred was cliilled at the intelligence of 
 her illness, he wouiu have seen Iter instant- 
 ly to bid her farewou, to wish her health, 
 to say, be happy, but Mr. Melville gravely 
 objected. Morna, said he, is more hkely 
 to be affected by solicitude than indifier- 
 ence, in the present state of her healih, 
 
 "Douglas sighed J he thought bt her as 
 beaming with health and beauty he had 
 first seen her, a flower of the wild, and 
 the grace of the solitudes of Strathmay. 
 
 Mrs. IMacneil accompanied Mv» Melville 
 and her pupil to Rcslin ; auld Margaret 
 Macpherson, who had nursed Doctor G — 
 and thought she could not do enough for 
 his friends, came out to meet iliem in best 
 array. Her kind words, and decent aappear- 
 ance, made Morna lift her heavy eyes from 
 the ground, and gaze on her intently. I 
 am content to remain (cried she in reply- 
 to Mr. Melville's enquiry), who seeing her 
 somewhat recovered fi'om her short iour<»
 
 193 
 
 ney, left her for Edinburgh. Mrs. Mac- 
 neil kissed her pupil at parting ; the poor 
 girl who had experienced little but tyran- 
 ny during her abode under that Lady's 
 roof, felt her heart recoil at the insidious 
 embrace, and gladly saw her depart. 
 
 Margaret Macpherson busied herself in 
 arranging Morna's apartments, and the 
 invalid lured by the neatness of the place, 
 and the enchanting prospect she beheldfrom 
 the sashed windows of the cottage, smiled so 
 sweetly, she won the good w^oman's affec- 
 tions. The cabin was most delightfuly 
 situated on the brae, somewhat below the 
 gothic ruin of Roslin, and commanding 
 the rocky channel of the Esk ; the time 
 worn castle, the picturesque church-yard, 
 and the fine boundaries of the scene, jut- 
 ting fragments, and lofty banks, . now 
 drest by the advancing year. A neat white 
 curtained bed, a hanging shelf, with a 
 few books, and an old fashioned couch.
 
 194 
 
 were placed in Morna's bed-room ; the lit- 
 tle parlour had a print of Prince Charles, 
 placed most conspicuously over the mantle- 
 piece ; a few chairs, and flower-stands, with 
 a carved table of dark wood, complete the 
 simple furniture of this room, which open- 
 ed into Margaret's. 
 
 rvlorna slept well, and rising refreshed, 
 tvalked down the slope, to breathe the 
 morning air, and survey the scenery. All 
 around was tranquil, but the Esk mur- 
 muring as it dashed past the sylvan 
 roots, and rocky impediments of its way. 
 The ruins of Roslin half hid by their ivied 
 veil, rose above, a model of architectural 
 beauty. Seating herself on a moss-covered 
 fragment fallen from the dilapidated ruins 
 of the Castle below, and reclining her 
 head pensively on her hand, Mornafell in- 
 to a depth of thought, that prevented her 
 observing Margaret had followed her, and
 
 19.^ 
 
 stood attentively observing her. The good 
 woman's voice at length broke the spell, 
 and the dejected girl observing her eyes 
 filled with tears, gently enquired what dis- 
 tressed her. 
 
 Waes me, yersel, (cried Margaret) ye 
 put me in mind o* ane that nae many years 
 since deed in my arms, and is buried in yon 
 kirk vard. 
 
 And so may I soon, observed Morna, 
 but that is as heaven pleases, you must tell 
 me about this lady, Mrs Macpherson. 
 
 Margaret shook her head, 1 canna do 
 that, (said she) for she was ane excommu- 
 nicated fra the kirk and laden wie sin. 
 
 Morna pressed the good woman to tell 
 why she wept, and at length overcome by 
 her intreaty, Margaret promised in her 
 leisure hours to comply. The sight of Doc- 
 tor G leading his horse towards 
 
 the cottage, occasioned the old woman 
 and her languid charge to hasten, in or-
 
 196 
 
 der to meet him, who was at once the 
 most skillful and humane of human be- 
 ings. Morna's cheek was tinted by exer- 
 cise ; this is well (cried the Doctor, look- 
 ing at her as he spoke), keep in the air, 
 what ails those bred up to pass their hours 
 exposed to the elements ? luxury has ac- 
 quainted us with disease ; indolence and 
 romance, with nerves. Cease to be a fine 
 lady, Miss Macleod and you cease to be a 
 valutedinarian. 
 
 You mistake. Sir, (replied Morna), I 
 have not till lately been even delicately 
 nurtured. 
 
 Then you are in love (said the Doctor 
 facetiously) that I allow to be a complaint, 
 and thus I prescribe. Either marry the ob- 
 ject, or forget him. 
 
 The blessing light on him (said Marga- 
 ret, as the Doctor rode off), gin he be nae 
 as playful as when he stood at my knee, 
 nae higher than ane o' the bushes yon-
 
 197 
 
 der, but yo maun be amused he says, will 
 yc hae di' Martyrs to read, or Ralph 
 Erskine's Works. 
 
 Morna smiled, but telling her she would 
 choose for herself, retired to her apart- 
 ment. 
 
 EKD OF VOL. riRST,
 
 " ) I ^. 
 
 ^\ 
 
 iv