The. ILe cie, s s . f'uM'sAtd.MvJISC 1THE RECESS. a Hale of HDaut ^Limtfi* CAREFULLY ABRIDGED j-'kom the fascinating and elegant performance of MISS LEE. Barrjman, Sc. " 'Twas here we chas'd the slipper by its sound, And turu'd the blindfold hero round and round." pleasures of memory. lonDon: Printed for T. Hurst, ».■>. 32, and Sold by J. Wallis, No. 46, Paternoster-How; C. Chapple, Pall-Mall; J. Dingle, Bury; f. Gibbons, Bath; T. Richards, Plymouth; and Messrs. Clark.® ioid Co. Manchester.THE RECESS. A HE characters employed in the history of the Recess existed about the reign of Queen Elizabeth, at that time a very romantic period.—The historical feature is preserved, and the line of probability is not infringed upon. The lady who wrote the original manuscript, whence this abridgement is made, from her own unparallelled misfortunes was arnply qualified for the task.—Her narration is addressed to Adelaide de Montmorenci; and, after some general remarks on the instability of human affairs, and the enormous turpitude of her base but noble cotemporaries, she proceeds as follows:— MY life, Madam, commenced with an event of the most incredible kind.—As soon as I could reflect, I found myself and a sister of my own age in an apartment, with a lady, and an ancient female servant. Some invisible hand supplied us with provisions, and articles of amusement and instruction, for I scarcely ever saw the inmates of our abode away from me. The Recess could not be called a cave, because it was composed of various rooms, and the stones •were obviously arranged by art. A vaulted passage separated each room, and light was admitted from small arched windows of painted glass, placed so much above our reach* that we could not seek a world beyond, and so dim that they only emitted a faint light. These remarks occurred afterwards as our minds unfolded, but from custom, at the time of our seclusion, t|iey excited no surprise, The lady before-mentioned called us O2 THE RECESS. her children., and treated us with parental fondness.—Every morning a venerable man performed mass, from whoVn we heard discourses on the advantages of retirement, and learned that the tremendous place called the .world contained millions of beings, rendered miserable from the domination of a few imperious individuals. Time had given this man a great weight over our immature opinions : his tall robust figure, habited in black; his austere manners, the nobility of his eye, and the gracefulness of his decay, gave him an irresistible authority,- His features bore the marks of early old age, and he was called Father Anthony by our mamma. Every day .after dinner he disappeared till the foBowing morning, but for what purpose we knew not. In the interval pur mamma either directed our feminine occupations, or guarded us against the arts of the world we were taught to dread,—Sic was our world, /the happiness of say sister and myself,—O.ur mamma, Mrs. Marlow, had<111 interesting symmetry of person, to which sorrow had given a wan delicacy of features; her temper .and understanding were excellent. As our ideas every day expanded, we felt more oppressively the narrow boundary of our residence;. Ellinor's romantic and extravagant fancy frequently suggested that we were in the power of some giant, whom she explained to be Father Anthony.—I on the contrary thought him our guardian genius, our protector from the snares of the world; but neither from him, our mamma, nor Alice, who was at other times full of loquacity, could w.e learn the mystery of our seclusion. Mrs. Marlow once absented herself for fourteen days; p&rt of the time we spent in searching for a door, and lamenting her loss, till Alice assured us it was but temporary. During that period she locked us in every day after dinner, at which time, doubtless., all who had occasion passed in and out of the Recess. We eagerly caught at every object to amuse ,our tedious hours; and the portraits in the best room furnished the lively Ellinor with many factitious remarks.— Among- the rest, two had particularly claimed our mutual attention ; it was a man of a noble mien, clad, as I afterwards learned, in armour.—There was a striking resemblance between the .eyes of Ellinor, and the dignified hero I delighted to gaze upoij. The next picture was a lady in the bloom .of jouth, with every feature marked by sorrow; a black veilTHE RECESS. half shaded a coronet she wept over.—We shed tears upon the bosoms of each other as we surveyed these interesting pictures; and we vainly asked whence arose out agitation at these objects more than the rest. When onr mamma returned, we flew into her arms, and enquired whose pictures they were? But she carefully avoided our inquiries, by requesting us to wait till the appointed hour of discovery should arrive; " when,"1 she added, " you will perhaps but too soon wish yourselves uninformed." Years passed on in this state till we reached womanhood. Father Anthony in time ingratiated himself much with us, by remonstrating against our farther seclusion, and we so eagerly seconded all his arguments, that our mamma consented to our enlargement. " My dears," said she, " you arfe about to leave a home, the tranquil pleasures of which you will hereafter remember with regret.—You shall behold this admired world, and may it never be less valuable in your opinion!" The next day was fixed for our enfranchisement, and the appointed hour at length arrived.—Our d«ar friend appeared under visible agitation; "Are you grieved, mamma," said I, " that we are going to- be happy?" " Ah no, Matilda!" said she; " I grieve to think that by this step you-wrest yourselves and ycrur secret from me! You compel me to tell you that you must henceforward no more call me> mamma, but Mrs. Marlow \" " Nevermore," exclaimed I, " call you mamma! Who then are our parents ?" " You have no father!" she rejoined; " he sleeps in the bosom of his Creator.—Your mother Irves, but not at present for you I When the proper time for discovery arrives, 1 shall disclose your whole story. All who know me well knew that I never was married; but I have always loved you with a'tna-ternal affection: and, ere we leave this retreat, you inust solemnly promise never to disclose the secret of it." After we had on our knees pledged ourselves to observe her injunction, she muffled our faces, and taking my hand, as Alice did that of my sister, we passed through many cold and hollow sounding passages, till we entered the garden of a noble cloister: here the bandage was taken from our eyes, and the beautiful scene impressed us with awful delight, as the setting sun, involved in waves of gold and purple, irra-O 24 THE RECESS. diated the face of nature. Mrs. Marlow then led U9 through the Abbey, which was erected on the ruins of a monastery destroyed at the Reformation, and still bore the name of St. Vincent. "With pleasure we learned that Mrs. Marlow, the sister of its owner, Lord Scroope, was considered by every one as its mistress. A noble apartment within hers was allotted to us, from which we beheld the fawn and deer in the park, sporting in playful groups j above us was the blazing sun, and below the carpet of nature; and we silently adored the author of all things. Mrs. Marlow provided us with the best instructors in every art and science, which gave an elegant finish to our lpaanners: on the evening of every Sunday we visited the. £ell- of Father Anthony, which was a cot raised by Lord §CF€>Qpe, (to whom he stood in the same relationship as Mrs; Marlow-,) on the verge of a laz-ge wood that sheltered tjhe mansion behind. Between-our wet kLy calls at the hermitage and the benevolent little promenades of Mrs. Marlow, three weeks had elapsed before Lord Scroope's return, who had been on an embassy to the Hague.; and when he did, his political concerns withdrew himfrom us to London.—Still the sad sound,. V your mother lives but not for you!" reverberated through our ears, $nd our respect for the promise we had made pre^ vented us from revealing the secret of the Recess to the servants; though we frequently wandered through St. Vincent's Abbey, confident that the hidden retreat was not far distant. Notwithstanding the excellent lessons Mrs. Marlow gave us upon the deceitful love and friendship of the world, I must own that my looking-glass suggested to me that I should not be neglected even at Court. I compared myself with the rustics around, and found no one my equal, except my sister. From reveries like these, however, the clouds of misfortune soon abstracted our attention, Mrs. Marlow was seized with a violent fever, which somewhat abated at the end of fourteen days: scarcely had we breathed from this distress, when a packet from London to Mrs. Marlow compelled hex to summon Father Anthony, Alice, and our-§elveSj to attend her. " My dear," said the good lady, and a promise that she would-amply provide for me; and concluded with a pious prayer that the sins of the parents might never be visited upem th$ children! " ^fPXi this dreadful termination of our happiness I was tatan gjstreroely ill, during which Anthony informed me by, letter t^tat h$ meant to endow a monastery with his effects, gtnd take the holy habit: I informed him that my resolution was t&e same, a«d conjured him to keep the secret from ous mother. Before I left my room my Lord's marriage with Matilda Hertford was concluded: after this I retired p* a-.ptaa ba-bited by the nuns of Saint Winifred, and deserted from its ruinous state; it then came into the hands of an ancestor of Lord Seroope; who, on pulling down the monastery, to crect a more convenient mansion on it, discovered the secret passage leading to the convent.—The land was a grant from Henry VIII. and the nobleman to whom he had given it was supposed to be a Protestant: Lord Seroope's ancestor however, educated as a Roman Catholic, retained an inward preference for that religion; and hence secretly nourished several of the proscribed and urirevenued fathers in the Recess; who by theix labours farther excavated it, and rendered it in its present state.—The secret has descended to Lord Seroope and two servants only, nor could any one, unless informed, have an idea of such a well-concealed retirement. " The housekeeper did not delay to gratify my curiosity* and led me for half a mile through subterraneous vaults and windings.—I was pleased with its gloom, and resolved to retire to it whenever St. Vincent's Abbey became too gay for me; for which purpose I had the apartments commc-diously fitted up,, and furnished with every useful and orl>a» mental necessary. The more I resided in my secret abode, the more I became enamoured of it; an• At night, when we were seated at table, Le Val began the premeditated uproar, and the faithful sewer effected the change. Order being restored, my lady insisted on1 my doing honour to the carp she had herself prepared, and I requested the same indulgence from the dish before Hie.—1 Lineric also partook of it;, and I thought I saw a malicious smile sit on his infamous visage as I ate the fish. Scarcely was the table cleared before Lady Leicester fell into con- ' vulsions, and expired the following morning, persisting to P3 "IS THE RECESS. the last that I had poisoned her.—Lineric, feeling that he was approaching to the same end, vsummoned his Irish domestics into his chambeif—The faithful Le Val chose that moment to enter mine; and, persuaded by him of my danger, I set out at break of day for London, attended by him and Williams; leaving the sewer to summons the tenants in defence of the castle, against the murderous banditti within it.—We had not travelled many miles when from the top of a hill we found we were pursued: although we had the fleetest horses, they had nearly come up with us by taking a shorter route.—The better to deceive the assassins therefore I gave Le Valmycloke: St. Vincent's Abbey then ^appearing ia sight, and there being no time to deliberate, I rushed into the forest, abandoning my horse to his fate.— Providence then directed me to the bushes, where I had the happiness to meet so fair a deliverer!" Lord Leicester thus concluded his story, and I, in return for his noble frankness, related our melancholy birth and undecided fate.—Hardly could he regain his chamber, before Father Anthony joined us: with sorrow he informed us that Lord Scroope had died in prison, and his whole property devolved to a distant relation.—In this situation as our guardian, he proposed to convey us secretly to France, and place us under the protection of the family of Guise.— This alternative froze my very blood; it disturbed my repose, and when I met my Lord next morning, he took my hand, and, as he observed my dejected looks, kissed it ia silence. Ellinor related to him the destiny which awaited us, and her utter detestation of it.—A thousand times" he assured her of his protection, while he tenderly pressed my hand to his heart.—He had just announced his intention of leaving the Recess on the following morning, to return to it in a more agreeable manner, when the cough of Father Anthony startled us; he was going through our room to visit the sick Alice: my Lord in his escape dropped the portrait given by Elizabeth, which Father Anthony took up.—After lie had read the inscription, he reprobated our conduct in the most bitter terms; to which I replied, that if I had erred it was innocently; and that, while life beat in my. bosom, it should be exerted to save that of the noble Leicester ! Convinced by rny manner that he had lost all influence over me, he ordered Ellinor to bring the Earl to him.—THE RECESS. They were closeted for two hours, after which time Father Anthony came to hie, and bid me listen to him.—" The Earl," said he, " has proposed to marry you. You have placed yourself in his power; and it is the only step that can be taken.—But never will I consent to his quitting the Recess, till the terms I dictate are solemnly signed, and the marriage formally completed/' Ah, Madam, what a tide of happiness rushed in upon my imagination !—I flew to Lord Leicester. Every heart was unburdened of its load, and such an evening of refined pleasure followed, that, could I wish to live any one over again, I would select that in preference.—Tire interest of my Lord requiring his presence at court, and Father Anthony having prepared the contracts, we were, at his instance, united. Involved in one fate with my love, I sought no other happiness than his presence, but his honour and welfare forbade it. Within a week after my marriage, Lord Leicester departed for that Court to which I made him solemnly promise never to take me. He was to come again soon, and conduct me and my sister to Kenilworth.—A thousand fears alarmed me for his return ; I thought the Queen, taught his value by his loss, might wish to espouse him, and what weight could I have against a crown !—I, whose mother was languishing under her arbitrary power !—A letter, however, brought by, Father Anthony, quieted my apprehension ; it stated that he was kindly received by the Queen, and that the family of Lineric was convinced of his innocence.—At last the happy hour arrived when I was to quit the Recess, and I shed tears as I left it. Le Val, and Williams, the Earl's valet, were only in the secret; to all others we passed. for young women educated in a convent, and come, with the consent of our friends, to embellish the retirement of Lord Leicester by our musical talents. This tale we were able to support, for my voice was very fine, and Ellinor played exquisitely on the lute. The Earl was also an excellent performer, and had paid for the musical education of the daughters of his steward, who had been taught to expect an addition to their number.— Father Anthony's attachment to the Recess made him continue to reside there, keeping James as his servant; and, except the pictures, we left all the furniture for the benefit of future unfortunates.20 THE RECESS. It was evening when we reached. Kenilwortfi, where the steward's wife, with her daughters, received us. After Mrs-Hart had pointed out the grandeur of the apartments, and her daughters had disgusted us with their pert familiarity, we retired, under the excuse of fatigue, to rest. I had laid my head 011 Ellinor's bosom weeping, when my Lord entered our chamber by a private door. His presence set all my cares at ease, and, leaving Ellinor, we retired through a long dark passage to his own apartments, where he tenderly asked forgiveness for the under part his safety compelled me to act. The communication between the Earl's chamber and ours was unknown to all except Le Val and Williams. To keep up the farce we were presented next day, and his Lordship's manner soon taught Mrs. Hart to pay us a due deference. Our allotted employment was to sing to my Lord at his dinner, and, when any of the neighbouring nobility and gentry visited him, a thin curtain of musliii screened us from observation. Every day brought us new pleasures in this magnificent mansion, till the Earl was compelled to go to court. My unfortunate mother was at that time imprisoned at a short distance from Kenilworth. I had in vain endeavoured to interest the Earl in her favour.—His noble inflexibility, his sacred duty to Elizabeth, aftd the danger of his owii fate, silenced any further request on that head. My Lord, during Ms absence, wrote to me kindly and affectionately ; he asked me if I were feappy, and then blamed roe for being so without him.— An evil, howev€r, soon arose, which threatened to disturb my tranquillity.—My lovely sister, from her gay and unreserved' manner, had attracted' the attention of Williams, This mau had been ai soldier, and from his authoritative manner seemed^ well adapted to- the superintendency of our houshold, to which the Earl, convinced of hi9 fidelity, had raised him.—In person he was disgusting, and in age far advanced. One day he had the insolence to declare bis-passiory, and solicit her return, but my sister left him with ineffable and silent disdain. I1 immediately wrote to the Earl, but received no answer: hence I found it necessary to speak myself to Williamson his behaviour, when he informed- meLforgot the authority he held in that bouse: that he was determined to use the secret he was master o£ to its utmost extent, and that he d/etained my letyers^toTHE RECESS. 21 prevent n\y account of his passion from reaching the Earl, liow cruel was my situation !—I was compelled to act wit-^r finesse till ihy Lord's return ; this happy day at length arrived, and I prepared a letter stating the whole transaction, which I did not deliver, from prudential reasons, for several days. Williams, finding no alteration in his master's behaviour, concluded, as I had promised, that I had taken no notice of it.—A journey, on which he was accidentally sent, gave my Lord time to cool. I laid the letter on his table one evening when I went to bed, and ere he had half read it, lie alarmed me by his rage, and indignation. Before the man returned, however, he informed me he would digest a plan to get rid of him, and this he fancied he had effectually done by shipping him on board the fleet of Sir Francis Drake, at Plymouth, who was about to take a voyage against the Spaniards. About this time died olii Alice, -with whom expired one of the witnesses of my marriage ; Anthony and Barnes rertiained well. Before Lorcl Leicester returned to Court, I obtained permission to visit my mother—to have the joy of being held in her arms, and receiving her blessing!—Not being able to promote it openly, he gave us a large sum of money to bribe the keepers, and bid the faithful Le Val attend us, who was now raised to the post Williams had occupied. When we arrived at Coventry, we found, alas ! her keepers too feajful, or too honest, to suffer any stranger to converse with her, and all that our money could effect was the privilege of seeing her take her morning walk in a small garden through a grated window.—Placed here, without attendants, we saw her come down the walk; but oh ! how changed, yet how lovely!—the confinement of eighteen years had weakened her limbs !—her charming arms were thrown around the necks of two maids, without whose.help she could not move. She looked at once a saint and a queen. Our emotions were too acute for description :—we wept aloud—we eagerly struck the bars, hoping some supernatural strength would break them. She drew near the spot where we stood, arid we thrust our arms through in supplication. She then raised her fine eye to the grating—I could not speak—my utterance fled !—Alas ! that divine benignant glance was the first and the last, the only one22 TIIE RECESS. ■we ever received from a mother t When she withdrew her eyes, I sunk in a swoon into my sister's arms ! The frequent absences of my Lord left me but too much leisure for melancholy reflection, yet he employed every artifice to be as much with me as possible, without incurring the Queen's suspicion. For this purpose he avowed a passion for hunting, and we soon learned to ride, a circumstance productive of an unpleasant consequence. One morning in the chare I struck my head against the branch of a tree, and fainted. A stranger was sufficiently attentive to catch me, and when I recovered I found myself in his arms. I insisted on mounting my horse, regardless of every intreaty, and withdrew. His peculiar grace and gallantry made me desirous of knowing his name, and I learned from the huntsman he was the amiable Sir Philip Sydney, the nephew of Lord Leicester. I was reflecting on the accident as I lay down, when my Lord entered, and, without any enquiry into my hurts, threw himself into a chair, cursing his fortune. Alarmed, I started from the bed, and flew to ask the cause of his complaint. " Matilda," said lie, " the Queen approaches !"-My heart sunk within me, as he supported me in his arms! " My love," he continued, " I fear we are betrayed—the Queen suspects my frequent visits to Kenilworth. Sydney has seen and admirea you; one resource therefore only remains. Will you appear before Elizabeth in the humble light you have done here, and, forgetting the persecutor of your family, remember her only as the patroness of your husband ?" My sister and 1 had no will but his, and therefore clad ourselves in habits like the villagers, the better to escape observation. The cannon announced the approach of Elizabeth, and when she entered the great hall, Ave with others strewed flowers before her. At dinner time, behind our screen, we had an opportunity of examining the Queen; and how did the blood of Norfolk and Mary shudder at and rise against her!—Rut, for her presence, the magnificent scene would have be-en truly interesting to a girl like me, accustomed to live in retirement. When dinner was removed, after the music had ceased, our performance began. Amazement transfixed every auditor, and scarcely had I finished the air* when Sydney drew the curtain aside, and exposed us to theTHE RECESS. 23 view of the whole Court. Overwhelmed with confusion, I dropped the book I sung from, and Ellinor bent over her lute with her eyes riveted to the ground. The moment I recovered myself I considered the Queen attentively.- Sometimes I observed she surveyed us with a deep penetration ; then with a keener glance Lord Leicester. When we retired, Sydney, the elegant, manly, and virtuouf, Sydney expressed his regret at the share he had had in our contusion, though at the command of his Sovereign.-• Alas ! he had conceived a passion for me, ignorant of what and who I was, that the cold hand of death could only extinguish! At midnight I found by my Lord's conversation, that the Queen's visit had destroyed his peace. He but too plainly saw the scrutinizing eyes which every, where surrounded us, and which added to his alarm the next day. The Queen, after closely regarding us, called Leicester aside, and they conversed together. As he talked he fixed an anxious eye on me, and, before we could retire, he advanced, and led us to the seat of the Queen. " These children," said he, " will be more surprised at their origin than your Majesty. They are daughters of the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, and objects of their Sovereign's patronage." Seeing him bend the knee, ours reluctantly gave way, and we kissed the fatal hand she majestically extended.—Informing us, that we were admitted among her maids of honour, she bid us prepare for London on the morrow. At night Leicester lamented to me that he had been compelled to make use of this false statement of our birth from the decisive manner in which Elizabeth asserted that we were born above our present rank; but the tacit manner in which she admitted his story, convinced me that she discredited the whole of it.—As this was probably the last night of our meeting at Kenilworth, we spent it in fortifying and comforting each other.—" Since this," said my Lord, " will be our last conversation for some time, let me recommend to you both, to make no confidents, to cultivate the friendship of Lady Pembroke, and never t® forget you act under the eye of a jealous and revengeful Sovereign !" Arrived at court, we were received and treated as the familiar appendages of Elizabeth, nor did our bondage threaten to end but with our lives. We were not long be-24 - THE RECESS. fore we made two estimable friends. The fair Pembroke attached herself to Ellinor, and Lord Burleigh's daughter professed the warmest affection for me. She was almost as strange at court as ourselves, and had independently refused a husband Elizabeth had selected for her. Our similar dispositions made us cultivate an attachment with Lady Arundell, Sir Philip's eldest sister, who had lived privately at a seat of his on the banks of the Thames ever since the imprisonment and death of her Lord. The war with Philip the Second at this time breaking out, Elizabeth bad her attention more bent on the enemy than love. On so important an event, the English all prepared, to take arms, and Lord Leicester, as their leader, repaired to the camp. I had observed with deep regret my Lord's coolness for some time ; and when I fully expected he would have settled some mode of correspondence between us, he parted from me with the same indifference as the other courtiers. To add to my sorrows, the fair Rose Cecil one evening unbosomed to me the innocent wish of her heart; she confessed her passion for Lord Leicester, and asked me to plead her cause.—What a proposal was this to a wife ?— Afflicted'alike with her goodness and her fate, I wept over her, and hinted all I could—that her's must for ever remain a hopeless attachment. Worn out by anxiety at my Lord's silence, I now wrote a letter, full of the alarms and disquietudes of my heart at his neglect, and while dubious how to convey it, Sir Philip Sydney came to take leave of me ; in confiding it to him, I knew I gave it to one whose truth I could have trusted with the secret that destroyed his hopes. Lord Brook, in a few days, arrived express from the camp with an answer, breathing all and more than my soul could wish—Lord Leicester in i|t frankly acknowledged that he had been jealous of Sydney^s youth and virtues, but the making him the bearer of such a letter had turned himself from an accuser into a criminal. He then proceeded to say that he had confided our secret marriage to Lady Arundell, and advised me to appear ill before Elizabeth, by which means I might retire for a short time from the court to that amiable friend's, where he would meet me, and cancel the tortures of doubt by the transports of reconciliation !—Sitting one day in my apartment at Lady Arundell's, wherein were some unfinished pictures,. the entry of the painter was an-THE RECESS. 25 aounced;-the man had thrown himself at my feet, and I was indignantly regarding him, when I perceived it was mjr Lord! who in that disguise meant to visit us without suspicion.—He then: informed us that heaven had fought for Elizabeth in the destruction of the Spanish armada, and I hailed the event because it rendered Leicester's life out of danger. Sir Philip, happy at my removal from the court, visited me daily, and became so importunate, that I found it necessary, for his own peace and mine, to take an opportunity of informing him that fate had placed an insuperable bar between us, ancf that we never could be united by any other bonds than those of esteem ! and I conjured him, upon his questioning the cause of my refusal, to press no farther into a secret I never could reveal—even to his virtues !— " Since," said he, with a melancholy firmness, " esteem is the onfy bond that can exist between us, when next you see me, though my heart feel unutterable pangs—when next you see me, I will feel entitled to all your esteem."— He then kissed both my hands, and we looked as if we were taking an everlasting leave. Lord Leicester the following evening came with a marked joy in his countenance, and announced that Sir Philip had claimed the hand of Miss Walsingbam; that the Queen had consented, and the nuptials were to take place in a few days. I now understood the force of Sydney's words : how beautifully did his every action raise him in my admiration,—to marry one, since he could not be happy with me, who doated on him, but whom he disliked !—Unhappy Sydney, formed to make any wife happy but the proud and peevish one you were united to, why had you. not chosen my sister ?—She would have crowned your days with happiness, and your grave with honour ! Finding that Lord Leicester's visits to me increased from a few minutes to hours, and from hours to days and nights, I resolved to prevent that suspicion which had betrayed his first marriage by returning to court; and new disturbances breaking out in the Netherlands, Lord Leicester, as commander in chief, with his nephew, was obliged to repair there.—A sad presentiment, too fatally verified ! occupied me that I should never see Sir Philip more. It remains not for my feeble pen. Madam, to paint his heroic death in the field. It has en*-THE RECESS. ployed the noblest themes, and malice has dropped involuntary tears. In addition to the dan get I felt for my Lord's safety from the death of Sydney, a new misfortune hung over me: J now found but too plainly, that I was far advanced in pregnancy, and that it could not be long concealed from the penetrating eye of Elizabeth.—Reduced to the same predicament ds my royal mother when I was born, I felt my reason as it were; benumbed—I could decide on nothing. My sister's prudence wisely urged that my flight would not conceal me, and if it did, that the Queen's rage would but change objects, and fall On Leicester.—Lady Arundell, whom I made a confident of my situation, and who promised ine an asylum and every motherly attention, persuaded nle to write an anonymous letter to Lord Leicester, which Lord Brook, the friend of Sir Philip, safely delivered.—By the advice of Lady Arundell I summoned courage to appear again at court, convinced by her that my presence woiild create less suspicion than my absence.— One morning, \yhen I fully expected a letter from my Lord, I was alarmed by a loud knocking at the door. Before I -" T^ fly/' said my lord, shaking his head, " is impossible You know little of state energy : at this" time Qiir house .perhaps surrounded, and every sea-port visited by spies !— but, my love,your flight——" 4< Never !" cried I, "starting up vehemently: " I am your wife, and no earthly power shall divest me of the title !—If you fall, we will suffer tQ*-gether !"—" One hope qf safety is yet ours!" cried Lady Arundell, " the Recess !"—-r- This met my Lord's approbation, and it was in a few mir nutes agreed that L*e Val should leave Kenilworth, and fur* nish us with what we might want there, while my Lord, disguised as a painter, and I as a servant, should immediately *set off on the fleetest horses. This was carried into effect almost as soon as projected, and ere sun-set we reached gu peasant's cot near St. Alban's, where my Lord insisted we might take a little rest.—I thought our rustic host and his wife eyed us suspiciously, and I urged my Lord to pursue our journey early. When we departed, they pressed us stay in such a manner, that it increased my precipitation to be gone. I went through incredible fatigues thfit day, taking no other refreshment than a draught of milk, till we reached a hill, commanding a view of St. Vincent's abbey ; an^ shortly after entered the wood. My heart dilated at tha abode of former tranquillity, and hailed the welcome osf the venerable Father Anthony, tottering oyt from his heiv jnltage, and extending his feeble hand to assist md secureTHE RECESS. us ! Fastening our horses in the wood, we proceeded in the gloom of twilight to the hermit's cave. We knocked, and •enquired for Father Anthony. " He has been dead these :ten days !" replied a stranger, " and is buried in the vaults of the Scroope famil}\ I am placed here till his relations decide about the few effects he has left behind him." We retreated from the cave. " Gracious heaven \" cried Lord Leicester, as he supported me in his arms, " how have we deserved this accumulation of evil!—Yet let us not despair.—Perhaps the gate of the tomb may be open, and Ayill conduct us to the Recess.—The secret of its entrance may have died with Father Anthony, and one struggle more will place us in safety." Weak as I was I followed my Lord, and it was dark when we reached the spot.—" It is open V he cried in a transport of joy : " come, my love, let us enter!" We did so, but hardly were within it before I found myself seized by several persons, and sunk senseless into their arms. From this temporary death I was soon recalled by the tremendous voice of Williams !—Fearfully at last I opened my eyes, and foundll was in the great room of our Recess, ■now filled with instruments, which I afterwards learned were for coining. A number of ill-looking ruffians stood round, ready to obey the commands of their malignant confederate. At length the wretch insultingly told us, that •he had made his escape from on board Sir Francis's fleet, and that his turn was now come, one step towards which he had already effected in the murder of Father Anthony !—• " And," added he, "though you are not the haughty beauty I adored, yet, as the wife of that imperious Lord I hate, you will serve more perfectly the means of glutting my revenge !"—My heart turned to marble within me as he uttered these words.— I-felt the horrors of his threats cloud my senses, aud I sunk in speechless agony on the floor.—■ "When I returned to recollection, I found myself with Lord Leicester in a dark dungeon. " O Leicester," I exclaimed, abhorrence of shame and dishonour tempts me to the most desperate deeds, and now may your^oul be congenial with mine !—Assume a Roman courage, and save your spotless wife from pollution !" The efforts I made broke the thongs with which the villains had bound my hands, and I immediately untied those of . Lord Leicester. I then summoned him again to strike, and by an act of fortitudeTHE RECESS. preserve the chastity of his vi-ife !--Ln%€l W brutality* and I to distraction \" As we invoked the protection of he&vfcfo* a fsCal df thtirt-der shook the tuins to their foundation. Vivid fltifehfes momentarily repeated illuminated our dungeon; arid, ds I ca§t a glance found, I gave a cry of joy. " B l'esfced fee the Omnipotent," I exclaimed, " who has sent his lightriihgs f»r our direction and 6afety 1—In this dungeon, my foVfe* is kx. private communication from thfe Recess to the 'Abbey: it was closed upon the death of Mrs. Mwrl'eAv, and is itii-krfOwn to that horrible villain Williams; I® this cOrneir 3f. the light hand, covered with ItithbeT, y&u Will find k trapdoor, with fctrofig fastenings to secure it on the ether side V We toon effected otir escape, abd bolted the blfessed ©ft tfbe banditti. Retreating through t&e houskfeeeper's roofiv to the ailti-chajmber,. Lord Leicester followed feiy tfemblibg Wfcps, with the bar of the door in his hand as a wtekpoh of «?efenee- While vie hesitatedr froiti the necessity there was ©f alarming a family, of which we knew not if tihey were tftiehc^ er foes, a light shone from a T&Hm beyond, aiid a ftAnfcle Voice spoke in the tolifea of stfpplieation !—We li6-tenel, and identified the voice of Williams aiistoferin£> hehv tlptm which my Lord darted into the room* and teVellirJg tlie bar wMi all his force en the head ©f the wretch, i± pet-fcrtated his brain, and he fell lifeless on the float.. " itxb-el-atofe moiister !." cried my Lord* " thus by "unlooked-for ftiebiis has heavea finished thee !"—" Gracious powers f" exclaimed a lady,. " do I not heftr the V«ic6 of Lord Lei-fefcSter ?."—To receive my life from hife httiids feldhe can reconcile me fo it!'—It was the voice of Hose Cecil, the daughter ©f Lord- Burleigh,. my Lord's mortal enemy Ah explanation however took place,, in which;, kfter stating my marriage with Lord Leicester, I fefenjured her to, Vfe-eollect the friendship she had. ohee p:fofessc?d fof ni£-r arid bid het remember that we claimed' a- similar protection fo that we had bestowed.:^-" When T foil^t, fr," exclaimed She, " toay I. be condemrteid te see you peteH !" She sboe'k30 THE RECESS: with terror as I related my story, and more employed in concerting- the means of our safety than her own, she replied, " How happy am I that my father is not to be here before to-morrow : but yet it is necessary, in accounting to the servants and my father for the discovery of the vil • lains, that one person should be fixed on. Fortunately, Arthur, the son of my nurse, is in the house, over whoni I have considerable influence. Against the choice of .his friends he embraced a seafaring life, till he acquired money enough- to purchase a small vessel, with which he trades between Devonshire and France; and he arrived here yesteiv day, to solicit promotion in the civil line, being tired of the sea..—Here is a mode of flight pointed out, more secure than any other, because more distant!—And now, my Lord, after; I have locked this room, which contains so shocking a testimony that more than one man has intruded here at midnight, you must attend to my next instruction.—I will conduct you, to the door leading to the garden; then,. making your way over the wall on. the side farthest.fr.om the wood, at a mile beyond you will find abridge.^—Wait there in silence. Arthur shall first hide a horse for you, and set put on another for Matilda, and this can be effected without suspicion, while our servants are penetrating through the vaulted passages." My Lord immediately left us, after tenderly epnbracing the noble-minded Rose and myself. The domestics,, to the number of eighteen or twenty, -having been rouzed, I conducted the astonished body to the private door, while Miss Cecil instructed Arthur, who in the confusion departed without suspicion, with a pair of horses, refreshment?, linpn, &c. for my Lord. In a few minutes Arthur returned; for me, and with mingled tears of grief and hope I parted ■with the generous friend I never more might see. I soon joined my Lord, by moonlight.—The silence, which naturally arose from Arthur's being with us, gave me an opportunity to revolve the anxious situation of our friends and ourselves.—I thought of the amiable Cecil, and her implacable father's rage ; I then wandered to the court of Elizabeth, and deprecated my sister's fate,, knowing that Lord Leicester's letter, explanatory of our marriage, had been delivered two hours after our departure. 'It had ever been our plan to escape to France, and there wait to see the issue of Babington's conspiracy, If it appearedTHE RECESS. that my Lord's share in that scheme remained undiscovered, we then dare avow our marriage ; if not, nothing but remaining incognito could secure him from Elizabeth's rage. I now looked with hope to a family protection in the person of Margaret, Lady Mortimer, the sole surviving sister of my father.—She was a bigoted Catholic, and, when > the change of politics upon Elizabeth's accession stripped her and her husband of their honours and emoluments, they retired to Philip, King of Spain, where General Lord Mortimer died. His widow then retired to Rouen, in Normandy, at which place her late husband's sister was Abbess, leaving her younger son in the employ of Philip, and the elder in the army of Francis II. Not disgusted with active life, she continued to protect every one who was the enemy of Elizabeth ; and at length took a journey to Rome to promote her ultimate object.— She knew of the secret marriage of Mary with Norfolk, and of their issue, but the execution of my father entirely crushed her fond project. From that moment she has remained ignorant of our fate ; but yet, aspiring, rich, and restless, she affected to be the patroness of all oppressed and persecuted Englishmen. Our present journey conducted us opposite to the coast of Normandy, and we travelled till the dawn of day, when we stopped at a hamlet for refreshment, and reposed for a few hours. The faithful Arthur on the same evening lodged us safely in his cottage, which stood on a lonely part of the sea-shore, near which lofty cliffs, shooting out into the sea, formed a little bay for a few fishing boats. Here, shut up from every communication, we lamented .our ignorance of what was passing in the capital, and waited with impatience till the streamers waved towards Prance. All being now ready, we stepped into a miserable boat, which was to convey us to the vessel destined to carry us over, when two strangers, riding full speed to the shore, called to us to put back with the most frantic eagerness.-r— I offered the mariners imaginary worlds to row on, but Arthur turned the boat, round, insisting that he knew the voices. I sunk into Lord Leicester's arms, overcome with terror, and when I recovered found myself in the cabin pf the vessel, reclining on Lord Leicester, while a youth, who knelt at my feet, alternately pressed my hands to his lipa. " Look up, my beloved," cried my Lord, "and gee the most32 THE RECESS. Hxcelhent Misfe Cecil, who has cortieiinxlisguifete to share ur service !—Jt is not long since, tired w ith watching in the dungeon, a variety of voices struck oar ears ; shortly the door was unbolted., and ft ruffian darted in, whom our people seized. The noiie al&rnied his comrades, who passed forward, and both parties fired : We then pursued them, and have, I believe, captured thetn all. hi the largest apartment of tfhie strange place, Madam, strange to tell ! found Our lord, an unknown lady, and three of our fellow-bervanta, toewly brought in by the ruffians, and bound !" " When my father was brought in," {continued Miss Cecil) ** I vtept forth my joy ; but he clit me short by 'demanding tvherfc were my Lord atid Lady Leicester [--Before I could recover the harsh dntfcrragMion, my brother had made his tva-y to my chamber,- and discovered the dead body of Williams. His exclamation attracted my father and all the Servants thither; the former, after examining the deed lhttn'5 features* bid mfe follow him to his chamber. When tM: had entered, he demanded an exact recital of the hor-sots of the night, and the escape of his enemy Leicester.— 1 declined deception* te:«e J .knew his penetration -would see through it; and therefore boldly told hita. that you, my Lord, had'saved my life, and I had, by putting the means of flight into ytmf pewer, preserved thofee of you and ycxiE ill-fated amiable bride! " My father, upon this, confined me to kb^ apartmefct, ttea.ted me like a crisiirtalj tuid even threatened tt> immure ftie tn the dungeon of tfee ftecesc. Afttt a time he changed his aitd cferried fine to every suspected spot ifc the neighbourhood, lioplfig by my agitation to discorer that "fchifcli contained Lord Leicester. In ©foe of the tours we tSBfctfiiiiteted LrtOft, tteat lover ivfco tGst me both the.Queen's fetid my father's favour.. By my father's invitatkua he fe-totnedf arid s^B>ewfed fcis niwi&eous addrest-es. Thus, to jgSfcapa & bargain totade between thestf, of fchfch I vtas to be saieriite^,- i fled A ftttSty servant^ aiki twive fortti-THE. RECESS; 33 ;nately become a partner in your destiny!" We pressed the • amiable girl to our bosoms, and she afterwards avowed her intention of retiring to a monastery near the spot where we should fix our abode, that she might occasionally enjoy our society. Tost about for ten days, and at one time exceedingly alarmed by being driven back upon the English coast, we at last made Havre, de Grace, more dead than alive with fatigue and sickness; and I was put to bed- at the first inn •we could reach. Here my apprehensions had nearly produced an event I had long dreaded.—I had but too much reason to fear my poor babe,anxious asmy Lord was for offspring, would only visit this world as its grave.—It was at this crisis Miss Cecil's kindness shone forth, and I conquered the danger.-^-I then wrote to Lady Mortimer, claiming her alliance and protection, and detailing the events related in the previous pages.—I continued a long time too weak to quit my chamber; yet at intervals my lord's absence and anxiety distressed me.—In the mean time an affectionate answer came from Lady Mortimer, regretting that her infirmities prevented her from personally waiting upon us; and requesting that her train might escort us to Rouen.—Breathless with joy I raised my eyes to Lord Leicester, who had been perusing . the letter over my shoulder, J^nd met his full of sorrow.—• " The power of the dreadful Elizabeth," said he, " has at length reached us, though not in our own persons.—Still safe • in my arms and my heart, you may, my love» long bewail ao event which Europe will bewail with you \" His sympathising looks explained the truth!—Aghastwith horror, my eyes seemed to set, my limbs to stiffen to marble, and sensations, to which fainting- is ease, struck on my heart at the thought of my mother, with paugs equal perhaps to those with which she bore me! Unable to speak, I buried my head in my robe, and pointed to the door that all.might leave me; my Lord even thought it prudent to comply, and laid down several letters as he withdrew.—The first paper I perused confirmed my fears—1 saw the savage hand of Elizabeth dipped in the blood of an anointed sister Sovereign!—of my helpless mother!—The furies of Orestes surrounded me, and thundered nothing but parricide in my ^ftrs!—Passing from paper to papeF I saw friejuds and ejier mies unite in the eulogium of the Royal Martyr.—Spirit ofTHE RECESS. tfee Royal Mary!" sighed out my exhausted soul; 14 from that exalted blessedness to which the imprudent conduct of the wretch now levelled with the dust has perhaps too early transplanted thee, beam peace and pardon!" The last letter I took up was one from Lady Arundell, and I pressed its contents to my lips. " I congratulate you, my honoured, friend," said she, " on having escaped the deadly rage of Elizabeth. Would I could thus address your Ellinor! She took the place of my sister, (who ought to have been in waiting,) and thus was present when the Queen perused Lord Leicester's explanatory letter: her rage burst-forth upon Ellinor, who was silent: the Queen insisting her silence proceeded from obstinacy, threw a large book'at her, which struck her on the temple, and felled her senseless to the ground: the other ladies cut her laces, and the -eager eyes of the Queen discovered the small packet attached to the black ribbon she always wore about her neck. As the Queen read the contents, her colour and speech for some moments forsook her; and when she recovered, after again perusing the memorials, she deliberately tore them to atoms; and summoning Walsingham and Burleigh, with all her attendants, except old Lady Latimer, retired.—From ■that night has EJlinor disappeared from court, but she cannot remain long hidden from -one of the most ardent and anxious of her lovers: nor will I reveal his name till with conscious pride he presents her to you, and claims his reward. With respect to Leicester the Queen seems ominously silent.—In tho'loss of your mother, you are revenged on the Queen; nevermore will she taste the blessing of peace, since that dwells only with the innocent!" Hence it appear (cried I) that Ellinor has accelerated my mother's fate; but if Elizabeth imagine she has destroyed the only existing evidence of our birth, I will produce the duplicate proof in Kenilworth castle : and if she touch the -innocent life of Ellinor, I will carry my evidence tQ the foot of Henry's throne, and claim his generous protection: •the house of Guise will unite to protect me, and all Europe assert the cause of the powerless king of Scots! Overwhelmed with the repeated solicitations of Lady Mortimer, we at last set out for Rouen, and arrived there at night, being averse to be Jcnown before we had formed a suite.—La;dy Mortimer received us tit the entrance of theTHE RECESS. 35 saloon; my heart had beat high with the pleasure of embracing the sister of the noble Norfolk, the onlj be'itig allied in blood to me, and I clasped her hands to my beating bosom: her dignified and austere manner, however, led me to think I had gained a relation without winning a friend.—. Two monks, to whom she paid a profound deference, an old officer of the Mortimer family, and his sister, were introduced to us as persons who were to share to our secret, without our consent. My aunt avoided entering in my affairs, fearful it would too much fatigue me, but brought her own very largely on the carpet.—Hence she assured me of her eldest son's protection, at that time serving in the army of Henry IV. The-family landed property her husband had sold before Philip's return to Spain, in whose service he had since continued; and that monarch had generously granted a large and valuable portion of land to her youngest son in the island of Jamaica, who hftd lately lost his wife, and was expected every hour at Rouen.—Miss Cecil then reminding Lady Mortimer of the lateness of the hour, we were conducted to a Magnificent apartment. Lord Leicester soon sunk into a mild repose, and I indulged the sweetest delusion of fancy in now being beyond the reach of our enemies.—Vain and presumptuous conclusion !—I had just dropped into a soft lethargy, when I thought I heard a noise in the room: starting up, I awakened Lord Leicester, who instantly withdrew the curtain, and with horror I discerned, by the pale light of a lantern, several men surrounding the bed, armed, while one called to him to surrender to the Queen of England!— My Lord, without deigning to answer, drew his sword, and commanded them to withdraw.—The men advancing, he aimed at the one nearest to him, Ayho in retreating jarred the arm of his companion.—The flash of death from the fatal pistol—the falling of Leicester's sword—and an ejaculation—all, all, confirmed in a moment my fate!—Myber loved Lord, my all on earth, sunk into my weak arms in a last convulsion !—He tremulously raised his hand to my lips, and silently resigned his soul on my bosom! Insensible to fear I invited his murderers to end those whom they had separated. I bathed my bosom in the blessed crimson yet flowing from him, and called alike on heaven and men to end me. The entrance of Lady Mortimer35 TIIE RECESS. now wrought up grief to phrenzy, and for many days I remained delirious! When I had recovered my senses, I found myself in a narrow cell, which an austere nuii informed me belonged to her convent; and proceeded to call my Lord a heretic, warning me to adore the holy Virgin, who had by his gentle death recalled me to the Catholic faith! In my indignation I execrated Lady Mortimer, and demanded my liberty, which the Superior, who had entered, informed me I might obtain only by the permission of Lady Mortimer, and renouncing the heresy I had embraced. Finding that finesse could alone serve with my bigotted persecutors, I requested to see the detested Mortimer: this flattered the Superior, and from her I then learned that my Lord was to have been conveyed to Elizabeth alive; and that his body lay in an outer chapel of the convent, embalmed ready to transport to England, if the Queen so directed. My jewels were all gone, and, from ignorance of where my lord's money lay in England, I saw myself the inheritress only of misery.—Lady Mortimer hearing that my conversion proceeded, came with her younger son in a few days to visit me. He addressed me with the voice of sympathy", and I blessed heaven for the interest my situation seemed to have made in his bosom; but Lady Mortimer and I parted with an increased hatred; since from her I learned that she had betrayed my Lord to Elizabeth, and had herself "planned his midnight caption, the more readily to divide me from him, and reinstate me in the true Catholic faith.—The deceptive attention I seemed to pay to the exhortations of the Monks now obtained for me the sad indulgence of weeping over Lord Leicester's coffin in the chapel vault.—There I pronounced a solemn and irrevocable vow never to know any other heaven but his, nor in any other manner! Mr. Mortimer soon became the medium between me and his mother; I unfolded to him my views, fearful that my babe might be snatched away from me by the pious nuns the moment it was born.—Though I saw an interested motive actuated Mortimer, I was happy to owe my freedom to any cause, and it was agreed that 1 should watch in the vault with Lord Leicester, till he could force his way into itj and conduct me on board an English vessel, the crew of which were to be his only assistants. After watching several nights, and just as the clock had tolled twelve, u jarringTIIE RECESS. noise in the farthest vault reached my ears, and in a few minutes T was surrounded by my deliverers, " Fly, fair Matilda!" cried the impatient Mortimer, grasping my hand. " Generous friend/' said I, " if you separate me from the ashes of my Lord, you rescue only half of me,—No! — . 15ear his precious remains a Way, or entomb me with them!" I saw Mortinier looked displeased, nevertheless he ordered the sailors to obey me. We soon arrived on board a large ship, which set sail immediately, and it was with surprise I observed Mortimer continue on board, though I understood he was to leave me when I was in a place of safety. In the cabin, to my great astonishment, I found a woman, who was to act both as'my attendant and a midwife, and who had provided every necessary for the expected babe. It was but too visible that the villain Mortimer cnly waited for my delivery to avow his unwarranted pretensions, nor could the dead body of my Lord, which I . had placed in the cabin, long check the open avowal of his passion and absolute power over me.—One evening I was walking in the little gallery before my cabin, when I heard the sweet, tones of a female voice cliaunt a hymn familiar to my ear. The sounds vibrated to my heart, and the name of Rose burst from, me: the noise of a person falling succeeded,, and the singing ceased. I repaired to Mortimer, and loudly demanded to be shewn to my dear lost friend. Mortimer did not refuse, and with tumultuous joy did I raise the lamented partner of my fate !—From her I learned that she had been forced on bdard by Mortimer, who hjid assigned her to the Captain, as greiat a villain as himself, and tliaj. our destination w,as to Mortimer's plantations in Jamaica. In the midst of these horrors the appointed period revolved, and nature made her agonized-effort.—As soon as my weak' nefes alk>\ved, they gave into my arms a dear fatherless girl!. whom I feebly strained to my bosom, and enthusiatically prayed the Almighty to bestow on her every blessing I wanted. With eagerness I gazed utvwearily on the new-born cherub1, and traced in her infant lineaments her father's matchless beauty. Miss Cecil, instead of sharing in my consolation, unaccountably seemed averse to my-poof. enjoyments; and gradually withdrew her confidence.—OfrligeiJ at tntetfVala'to quit the cabin, and listen to the brutal swl Jl38 THE RECESS. dresses of her boisterous lover, often did the seat of reason appear shaken in this dear unfortunate at her i'eturn.—I saw this approach o,f insauity with horror, and dreaded6the moment when the rude demand of marriage should bring her fate to a climax. Too fatally was this verified !—for one evening, after a conversation of tliis kind, she was more than usually disturbed.—From the balcony she returned to the cabin, and by the dim light of the lamp I saw with horror her disordered look, and read her suicidical purpose. Fixing on me a long regard, and majestically motioning a final adieu, she rushed again to the balcon}', where I could distinguish her awful plunge into the entombing deep !—I fainted at the sound, and a succession of fits tookpalce; whether her fatal example, or my sufferings, softened the heart of my tyrant, I know not, but my persecutions ■during the voyage entirely subsided.—Nay., seeing that my malady deprived me of natural sustenance for my babe, he proposed her being baptized, and the helpless infant was christened that evening by the name of Mary.—I could not fail to adore the retribution of Providence, in whose decrees my lost friend had sinfully dared to blend her own, on learning that the insolent Captain had, on that fatal evening, by a fall, broken his arms, and lost the power of molesting her. We continued our voyage till we arrived at St. Jago de la Vega, and on the same evening I was landed, and put into a litter, which the slaves of Mortimer carried to his plantations, Here, as soon as I had a little recovered, surrounded by blacks, and kept from the sight of the Spanish domestics, I found that neither tears nor refusals could avert the mat/imonial sacrifice.—One evening he entered my apartment, as I was weeping over the coffin of Lord Leicester, attended by his chaplain and domestics; I summoned courage to invoke the priest, by the love of God and regard for his sacred character, to protect me from compulsion and tyranny !—The wretch was deaf to my in-treaty, and Mortimer ordered the ceremony to proceed.— " Fair cousin," said he, " do you think this priest will interpose for you, when the holy church and sisterhood have put you into my power!—You thought simply that we forced an entrance to your cell to liberate you, when it was their contrivance to get rid of you and the body of Leicester together.—Come, priest, do your duty !"THE RECESS. 39 Tlie ceremony had just commenced, when a tremendou9 tumult, mixed with horrible yells, transfixed every one present.—The paleness of death crept upon the cheeks of my late inhuman tyrant, who, with his confederates i rushed out in seareh of some weapon of defence.- They were as quickly driven back by the exasperated slaves,, at whose black and sanguinary looks I fainted, but recovered time enough to see tlie deadly blow given to; Mortimer, who reeled a few paces, and groaned his last on the body of my Lord. A Spaniard, united in the plot, now advanced to me, and with the gallantry incidental to his-nation, led me to a place of safety.—After the slaves had glutted their bloody revenge, they loaded their horses, and hastened to the recesses of the mountains, in our progress to which I should have fallen a victim to their barbarous rage, if one of their ringleaders, named Aimor, and Don Emanuel, had not protected me. Ere we had proceeded far, my companions were seized with the consternation attached to guilt. Notwithstanding they had used every precaution to conceal their ravages from the neighbouring planters, some unextinguished spark had" caught fire, and I saw the rich possessions of Mortimer one universal conflagration.—I saw the estates of his ijivaT form the funeral pile of Lord Leicester, and I blessed the omnipotent hand which had so avengefully interred him ! From Emanuel I learned that he was foster brother to Donna Victoria, the late wife of Mortimer, and the sister of the present mean and tyrannical governor Don Pedro de Sylva; that Mortimer's wife had died broken hearted, leaving him, (Emanuel,) a legacy, which, with other sums he had saved, Mortimer had refused to give up ; and that the tyrannical treatment he had received in common with the slaves had determined him to head them, and make the attack on the day set apart for my marriage, the more easily to give me freedom, and effectuate the death of the tyrant !—f pondered much on a remark I heard Emanuel make, that my safety could only be ascertained by our being attacked by the troops of the island, and I soon read its interpretation in the attentions of Aimor, whose party would soon crush any opposition to his wishes from the generous Emanuel. * R 240 THE HECESSr At the dawn pf day we halted in a lone hoi law, and sent forth scouts to reconnoitre, who returned with immediate notice that we were so hemmed in, we could not without an action 'proceed a mile farther. The consternation was terrible—Aimor and Emanuel cast a lingering eye towards the foot of the tree where I sat, and laying my babe on my lap, I tendered a hand to each. Even the savage dropped a tear upon the hand that dreaded his touch, while Emanuel exclaimed, as he regarded his rival, " Adieu, most adored of women, for ever !—How many evils does death save,us all from !" The action soon terminated, and the women Avere all .taken prisoners to St. Jago de la Vega that evening, where I was placed 011 a miserable bed, in a dark room, and without any companions !—Hence the unwholesome damps brought on a rheumatic fever, which lasted a considerable time, and left a lameness, from which I have yet■ recovered'. My p^or babe suffered in con^mon witih me, from my. incapacity to pay her proper attention, and it was for her sake onljr that J strove to preserve the femnant of life sorrow and pain had embittered.-:—:—The gro\yth of my child alone maiked the progress of time.-— 'How sweetly sounded to me her first attempt at articulation ! I saw' her walk with a transport little inferior ! and, occupie.d -Vvith improving the rising faculties of my little cherub, I no longer repined at my unmerited captivity. I was.pne day holding her to- the iron bars, for the benafit of tile evening breeze, her little hands playing- through ftie vacancies, when I suddenly perceived a black woman, apparently of distinction, leaning under an awning, raised at no great distance. 1 saw the stranger's eyes were fixed upon iny prison, and I withdrew the child. On the following day,' at the same hour, she returned again to the same pavillion, and after watching the window in vain, shewed manifest signs of chagrin. Shortly after the kind negro woman who attended me entered my room, and by signs demanded the child, and, when I refused, sl.e orcibly took it from me, and left me stretched in the struggle on the floor. I now looked through the window, and beheld my darling child at the foot of the woman, laden ■with toys^ and overwhelmed, with egresses ; but what were \-rny feelings when 1 s^v the attendant slave.s bear theij .mistress and the child away ! an^ how inexpressible my joy when the old negress brought in my lamented cherub, look-THE RECESS. 41 ing like a new-born light reposing on the bosom of chaos ; imagine, Madam, a girl between three and four years old, graceful and blooming ; her amber locks falling over a vest of silvered muslin, and otherwise fancifully decorated, with, a basket of fruit in her hand.—I at length became used to these little absences of my daughter, and sometimes a month elapsed without her being sent for, whence I concluded that her negro lady was under some controul. In process of time I learned from my Mary's improved accents that her name was A nana, and never did 1 offer up a prayer without including that friendly name in it. Eight years had nearly passed over my child's head, without my speaking to her benefactress, when one day she1 entered my prison, and gave me the interview so long desired. She was in mourning, and told me in broken French, that she wa$ come to comfort me. From her I learned that Don Pedro de Sylva, who had condemned me to close confinement, while he seized on the Mortimer estates, was at length dead, and that she, as his favorite, had become possessed1 of a considerable portion of his wealth, with part of which she had bought my freedom of the new Governor, and I was at liberty to return to Europe, whither she herself meant to go, and share her property with me. During this discourse, the rapture of joy almost deprived me of utterance— and, as I emerged from my prison, and beheld the heaven above and green earth beneath, I raised my soul to him whose ways are past our finding out! Blended once more with the concerns of the world, 1 learned, with joy inexpressible, that a few months before Elizabeth had paid the debt of nature, and my brother James had sue-, ceeded her. I looked forward to the time when I should present my beloved Mary to my dear sister, and in the society of endearing connexions close the remainder of my days. Previously to my embarkation for England, the generous and benevolent Anana was seized with the small-pox, which, terminated fatally. In her dying moments she requested once more to embrace her little angel, nor could my hu« manity refuse the request. The exhausted Anana thefit placed a small chest in my care as a last legacy, and, grasp* ing my hand, expired. My daughter caifght the infection^ but fortunately it neither injured her health nor her beaut?., R 3 {THE RECESS, The Casket' f had received ctmtained jewels to a great affltfitfftj atod, thufe provided fbf, w^set sail with the Swelling. bride\-—Gracious heaven, what did J feefl when he gracefully knelt to me!—The overpowering hiirth soon cor-* rfceted his mistake, and he advanced to Miss Walsingham, paying her that kind of cdld compliment which awakened) eVery fiery particle of her nature.—After thia I left him, ahd fetUfued I© coort, -tvhere I had various opportunities of' observing the attentions of Essex- to mej and his desire to dive into the nature ef youf connexion with Leicester,, and ouf birth-. " After Boine time the camp claimed Lord Leicester, and Esfsex left me to regret his absence till thle^efeat of the Armada restored gaiety to the court.—Eseeit now unfolded his paesiort to Lady Pembroke, who took the opportunity of leaving tne alone with him one day, when4a« made the exquisite and honourable avowal of his love ! adding lhat he Tespeeted generous errot which had induced his father to propose a union with Miss WaJsisgharti, to ^heafc father he Was i&dfebttfcl tot the siiety and distinction he©R-joyed, Atirffcfcat kifc after conduct miifctbe feg»la-te his'dear betrothed Ittve, hisTHE RECESS. tnurdered Ellinor, and swearing that some diabolical artifice had been employed in this business !—His ravings -vVefe interrupted by the appearance of Lady Pembroke, who recalled hiin to reason, and conducted me to her barge. When Lady Pembroke saw I was capable of attending 'to0, her, she addressed me : 44 I have hitherto suffered you to imagine Essex unfaithful and guilty, but you have now snatched that bandage from his eyes, which has hitherto saved you both from the dan>-ger of a renewed affection, and the loss of the little peice heaven has allowed you !—Alas ! my sweet friend, what direful conflicts do I see before you !-—The desperate state of my health when yourself and sister so unaccountably vanished, made my Lord cautious of my receiving any news which might agitate me too much. When I was able tp quit my apartment, Essex, wholly engrossed by the hdpeof finding you* was our constant visitor.—News at"this tihie arriving from Lord Leicester and Matilda, our hopes re-1 vived ; but they were soon after damped by the certairfty of your marriage with Lord Arlington. The countenance of Essex shewed the silent struggle and indignation of his soul. He quitted us precipitately, and flew to Sir Francis Wal-singham's, where Lady Sydney, still sensible of his merit, received him with pleasure ; to her he tendered his hand, and the marriage was solemnized in a manner almost as' sudden and solitary as your own.—The Earl soon became tired of the vindictive temper of his bride, who ever wks the enemy of yourself and Matilda; and their quarrel rds^ so high one morning, that he ordered his horses, and abruptly departed, declaring that he followed the fate of ^ir Philip Sydney.—The Queen, who doated on Essex, incensed at his retirement from court, banished his lady, and reprimanded her father ; but her anger as quickly subsided,' and she ordered Essex to retire from the command of some ships he had jointly taken with the Admirals Drake' ari'd* Norris. " At this time I received your letter, containing not one word of the motive which had induced you to marry Arlington. I shewed the letter to Essex, and never since lias your name passed his lips.—Till this fatal day,- therefore, have I kept the knowledge of each other's innocence in my breast, and I shall ever lament that it has been snatched STHE RECESS. ;from ,me !" Here Lady Pembroke finished lier narration, ar^d after we had mutually embraced, I withdrew home, where, I remained from this period wholly, :expecting some ■intelligence from Lord -Essex—.This Lady Pembroke herself. at length conveyed in a letter, full of the most poignant regrets at our separation, and conjuring me to tell the causes ■which had rendered him wretched. In the answer I returned, I Requested to 'let those causes be for ever buried in oblivion and to rest assured, my existence depended on his glory, hi^ welfare, and the rectitude of his conduct, now that fate had denied us any other union than that of the soul !— Pgor Essex wept over my letter, and the frantic expressions- he uttered made me relapse into my wanderings, whence I proposed to Lord Arlington to reside for the future wholly at St. Vincent's abbey, (which lie had purchased,) ai^/h^eadily consented. Here I passed my time, chiefly in, visiting the distressed, or wandering towards the cell of the Kecess. ■ After several ineffectual applications to obtain promotion at-Loii.don, Lord Arlington retired to his country eeat disgusted, .and he simply concluded we were happy because my soul was lulled into apathy ; and, as a confirmation of his happiness, he determined, against my earnest remonstrance, to exterminate those ruins which kept my bitter remembrances alive, as the materials would be serviceable in the construction of a neighbouring manufacture. During this cruel dilapidation, I accompanied him at his request to London. -Lady Pembroke received me wilh her accustomed warmth, and I felt a pain when she informed me that Essex was at sea. In a short time the hatred of the Countess of Es§ex pursued me; poisoning the mind of Arlington by artful.insinuations of a connexion existing between her expected Lord and me, till the former suffered me to move no where without he was of the party.—Misjudging woman! how little did she know of my haughty spirit!—Far from meditating any injury to the Countess of Essex, I respected too much hey husband's peace of mind voluntarily to recal to his remembrance a wretch born to destroy it, " A picture had been drawn by a Spanish painter of the storming of Cadiz, and sent over by Lord Essex to Lady Pembrpke.—His Lordship's own portrait was the most con" 6picuous in it; and hence I felt an anxious desire to see it, independently of fashionable report. Thejealousy of my LordTITE KECE9S. 31 seemed to forbid this indulgence,. when Lady Pembirbke informed me that the Queen was to give an entertainment 011 the marriage of one of her favonrites at Greenwich, .sfcfid that I might safely inspect the picture at her house, as Lord Arlington and herself were both to attend her Majesty. On the appointed day I repaired to Lady Pembroke's, and lo prevent intruders was locked into the picture-gallery: "ho\v lively Ayas my emotion at beholding the features indelittjy impressed on my heart!—" Ali!" cried I, bursting iiilo tears, " what are now thy honours and glory to llllinori!" " Waste not those preciouS gems on senseless canvas!" ciieid a voice to which my heart was born to vibrate; « BeHbld thy faithful Essex, as truly thine as ever!" " O EssexP'I replied, " short must be our interview! Consider the tirire, the place, the person, "inight, if discovered, stamp^me wifh ignominy!" "Think "not, my betoved," cried he, " tfiit I meant to entrap you:—disgusted at the doatinajQue^s gracing Howard with"the l&urels won by riie, I' came" o^?r to seek redress, and Pembroke is gone to rollecf my'fnen8%, while I lay downfafogiied on.-the' couch, ahd/drew'the curtain the more easily to" invite' repose." ' " The more we conversed, the more our sensibinhjjs arose; and nature, too high wi-ought, made it necessary ^e should conduct me.to the "fresh air of "tin open wmdou-.— A noise at the door alarmed uS, "and" I' had just hidden rify face in the satin Clofte bf'EssSx, when the vdice I nip'St dreaded rushed upon my ear: m a moment Xisaw the sw6i$s of Essex and Arlington pointed at each other's bcsOni. 'and I flung myself between them: that of my husband'pierced my shoulder, while Essex'more skilful- than his ' adverii?rt, wounded and disarmed him.—-The"loss of bloocf scon-' laid nie motionless on the floor;'arid'as 1fell ! acijui^kWx to vindicate my fame, arid deigned to'affirm my inriocen^e to Arlington.—I was immediately conveyed home/and surgical assistance produr6d for me'and "iriy Lord, whose wound was but slight. "Stung to the quick when 1'understood that he hSd turned the amiable Lady Pembroke from the door, 1 was indifferent to living or dying*.and many months elapsed ere I had strength to walk across tire room.—In vain I the?n endeavoured to exculpate myself to Lord Arlington; his weak "mind considered ine only as a crafty woman, and Lady S-2..52 THE RECESS. Essex blazoned the suspicious incident through the court.— Immured in my own house, Elizabeth Vernon, the fair cousin of Lord Essex, demanded to see me; and my Lord, fearful.. of her favour with the Queen, consented.—The sweet girl informed me that Essex had scarcely existed during the uncertain issue of my illness, and that the cause of his rencontre with Arlington had arisen from his own master of the horse, who was among the domestics he had brought with him to Pembroke-house; this man, on arriving there had quitted it to go to Greenwich, in search of a girl attending on Lady Essex, of whom he was enamoured: Lady Essex, thus informed, hastened to Lord Arlington, whose jealousy immediately impelled him to fly to Pembroke-house, where lje was soon satisfied of his own dishonour. Lord Essex, in revenge for his wife's conduct, now behaved to her with $he most stoical indifference—a conduct which threatened to prey very soon on the spirits and life of his lady. When my sweet Vernon had finished, I bid her bear my affectionate remembrance to Lady Pembroke, and thus we parted. " Forgotten by every one except the generous sisters of the Sydney family, I followed once more my fate with Lord -Arlington, and returned to the Abbeyr whose hallowed Recess and skirted rooms were now only a barren level.— I was rouzed one night with the information thaka favourite .servant of Lord Arlington's, who was at the point of death in a consumption, earnestly wished to speak with me, as his Lord was too much inebriated to attend to his story. " I took only my trusty maid with me, and attended him. 4< Lady," said he, " pardon me, I beseech you, for the proposal I made to my Lord to destroy those ruins in which you took such an interest.—Alas! the proposal costs me-my life!—In removing the rubbish of the artificial hermit's cell, in compliance with the directions of my Lord, I saw a common labourer turn up something which required his whole strength to raise, when, seeing I observed him, he covered it with earth: I insisted on knowing what it concealed, ^and we at length agreed to divide the contents together.— The casket was placed in my custody till the evening, at which time it was to be broken open. In the mean time I .opened it with false keys, and substituted a large iron crucifix and a few heavy keys in the room of a large sum in gold-and some jewels, leaving some papers and trifles of no value in it. When the poor wretch returned, and afterTEFE' RECESS. 53 much labour had forced it open, I affected a disappointment equal to his, and offered him twenty nobles on condition of keeping the secret,, which he readily accepted. Since that period I have had no peace; the idea that my treasure was no where safe has quite undermined my health;, and I have now been considering how to bestow the weallhi I can no longer enjoy.—The poor man I so basely defrauded perished a short time after by the fall of a pillar,, and therefore no. restitution can. be made to him:—now, madam, as ( understand that you were brought up in these' ruins, and I have seen y.ou walk and weep over them, I, have no doubt you are the right owner.—My Lord is grudging, and you may one day want it; do not therefore rob> yourself of the means to be liberal, which I only yield up> on the condition that the affair shall: remain a secret." " I consented, and my maid drew the iron chest from an; dbscure corner, which we emptied of its gold, jewels and papers, aad carried -the contents to my apartment-—The-poor wretch in a few hours expiated his sin. with his life. The property, so unexpectedly obtained, my dfear Matilda,, I reserved for your use: the papers consisted of. the love' tokens and letters of Mrs. Mariow and Father Anthony,, which I kissed with, fervour, and held them not the least. part of my legacy.. " Time passed on-.witJio-nt the flattering illusion which led.: me to expect my sister; and my mind sunk into its usual-! inertitude,. from which I was awakened as from an earthquake.—Lord Arlington in hunting fell from his horse, apd^ breaking a. blood.vessel, was brought home apparently lifeless.—My wrongs vanished before my duty,, and fr made-every effort to save him.—For a time he appeared to mend,, but the inebriety he again indulged in checked both care and medicine; and,.after enduring a series of. sufferings, he expired in the prime of his days! " The successor to his title and estates was a rude sea-officer, who on receiving, the news of the decease, escorted-my Lord's two sisters to the Abbey, to whom all the personals were devised.—Gracious heaven, how deep was my indignation on hearing the will read, to find that Lwas mentioned in it as an insane wpetchv to be confined under the charge of his sister in St. Vincent's Abbey !—To extend his-tyranny beyond the .grave t—It wae hoore than-human, aa»54 THE RECESS. ture could resist, and I once more sunk into the dreary gulph from which I had been emerging!—The overjoyed Essex immediately wrote to me, and conjured me to retire to a seat of Lord Southampton, in Herefordshire, where Lady S. (the cousin of Lord' Essex) would repair to meet and comfort me, as the decline of Lady Essex's health promised soon to place him in a state of freedom. This letter was'opened and detained by the relations of Lord Arlington, who kept the dear testimony of an unequalled attachment, and sent back the melancholy news of my insanity and confinement. " Lord Essex however, duped before, sent Henry Tra-cey to identify the fact by a personal interview.—Such was my profound stupor, when he saw me,'that he returned •with a corroborative account of that received from Lord Arlington.-^-Distracted with these ideas, Lord Essex set out for Ireland a!t the head of an army; and he had not inarched far, when lie. determined to leave the command to Lord Southampton, who accompanied him, and decide upon .the state of my senses-by his own.—-Arrived at St. Vincent's Abbey, they conducted him to my chamber-; a dim lamp alone glimmered in it, and as the stronger lights approached i-waved my hand to have them removed: but, alas! in the transports of grief which he uttered, I recognized his well-known voice,, and opened my eyes again to behold their darling objects—Alithea,- my favorite attendant, then in-treated him to leave me till my faculties had recovered the apparent shock of joy; and he retired to learn .from her the nature of that unjust will which had occasioned niy confinement and dreadful relapse. Essex, at all times impetuous and unthinking, boldly told the Arlingtons he would perish rather than I should be left in their power.—He withdrew to his apartment; while Alithea very prudently had me bled, and I sunk into a sweet mid sound sleep ; from which I awoke the next morning with- intellects entirely clear, though weak.-^In the afternoon our dear and. affecting meeting- took- place.—To be prolix in detailing the ardent vows of eternal affection he poured -forth is unnecessary.—After this visit, it was some days before I dare trust myself again to converse long, with Essex,, but he, finding that I appeared every time more calev ventured afclast to unfold to me the mighty designsTHE RECESS: 55 that floated in his imagination. " My dearest Ellmor," said lie, " I am about to unfold a plan that lias been for years the child of my dotage.—Among other projects, I resolved to apprize the King of Scots of your existence and situation, -and solicit from his fraternal regard an asylum; but our proofs of your birth and.sufferings have fajled to convince him; and he has ignoipiniously submitted to kiss the hand which shortened the royal. Mary.'s day si—Spurning,., therefore, a brother by whom you are disowned, let us look, at the brighter prospects which dawn before youV " Born for empire by legal right, and with beauty and ma-> jesty-to dignify that station,I will boldly present to thepeople of England another blooming Queen; nor can. the feeble attempts of the boyish Scotch pedant stand against an army which is devoted to my service, and relying, on my valour and munificence.—It is this which lias made me eager to conduct the Irish war, where I can profit by the Queen's death without alarming her declining years.—Boldly re-r solve then", my love, to accompany me to Ireland, where I will -safely lodge you and Lady Southampton in some im^ pregnable fortress, while I remain in the camp.^—Answer not rashly, my sweet Ellinor, but recal to mind the obstinate prudence which has brought on us so many years of suffering; and remember you.have again the power of deciding my fate and your awn !" " Essex then left me: my mind instantly adopted the as? piring project, and I determined to second his noble ardour, as much as I' despised my base and degenerate brother;—When he returned,, with an air of anger be told me that the wretches I was surrounded by pretended an avu-thority from the Queen,-as well .as the late L ord Arlington, for my detention: " But this," added he, " will only oblige me and the friends I have here to use a violence I would rather have avoided." " Beware,, my love/' said I, " that I do not become the victim of that violence.t—Born to pursue your fortune, I vow that mine shall be inseparable from yourS, if you will, only pledge your word not.to interfere with another plan I. have formed for joining you without danger to either of us." He joyfully granted the assurance I desired, and I impatiently hastened his departure to the port, whence the troops had already embarked; where he and Lady Southampton were to wait till I joined th$ro.56 THE RECESS- " At this time a maid of mine had been seized witlradan-gerous epidemic fev.er ; and I was happy that the absence of Essex removed him from' the infection, the fear of which made the Arlington race shut up those who attended me in, that quarter of the Abbey I inhabited. In this solitude the recollection of the mock interment of Lord Leicester furnished me with a plan of escape, and the treasure of the won chest became a blessing indeed! As soon, as the maid's symptoms became mortal, I affected to be seized with the same fatal disorder, and when she died I resigned my bed to her corpse. By Alithea's judicious management I and my treasure were put into the deceased's coffin, and thus conveyed to the parents of that faithful domestic.—Alithea afterwards reported my death to the family, and the corpse, ■which resembled me in person, was interred without suspicion by the side of Lord Arlington.. " All my servants were then discharged, among whom-was the faithful Alithea, who immediately joined me at her father's cottage.—Part of the wealth 1 bestowed on her-worthy parents for their and her use, and the rest 1 restored to the earth whence it came. The faithful- creature delays the happiness of him, she loves, till he has conveyed this bioken narrative into the hands ©f Lady Petxibroke." [Flei'c the Narrative doses, and the remainder is continued in Letters from EUinor to Lady Pembroke,, dated from. Droghcda m Ireland.]: LETTER THE FIRST. " From the safe shores of another kingdom? once more do I greet my dear Lady Pembroke..—Provided with: a fleet horse I set out from the cottage in bey's attire, to. follow Essex; and,, after an immense fatigue and much delay, arrived at the pott, where with inexpressible chagrin I learned that he had embarked for Ireland a week before. Alas, I had forgotten that the report of my death had actually reached him, by means of the spies be had left aboitt St. Vincent's Abbey. While irresolute in what manner to dispose of myself, I learned with joy that Lady Southampton and her train, escorted by a chosen troop, had arrived. That dear woman threw her arms round my neck when we met, and her suggestions niade the dread the effect my ilh-guarded scheme might have on Essex: in tHe mean time to avoid suspicion, I resolved to retain my masculine habit,THE RECESS. 57 And pass for one of I.ady Southampton's pages, till safely lodged in Ireland. We arrived here last night, and found a letter from Lord S. stating the rashness and despair of Essex's mind.1—Lady S. thinks the oversight may prove lucky, as it will prevent my seeing Essex before the death of his Lady.—Alas, not fortune, but my own folly ishere to. blame!—Adieu LETTER SECOND, DATED FROM DROGHEDA. " All here, my dear. Lady Pembroke, is alarm and confusion:—Sir Coniers Clifford was yesterday cut off with half his chosen body, of troops, among whom was an officer related to Lady Southampton, for whom she has been weeping the whole day. You can form r.o idea of the horrible scenes we witness!—Alternate victory and defeat, death, rapine, famine, and sickness, are constant object* with us. Ah ! what if Essex, unconscious of my yet surviving, should fall, prompted to some desperate attack by his despair!—A strange thought impels me!—I must see him; I cannot leave him, perhaps wounded and dying, to the care of indifferent persons chosen troop are now setting out, and I will accompany them.—Adieu!" LETTER THE THIRD. " A silence so tedious will make my dear Lady Pembroke number me among the dead. In our way towards Ulster, we were attacked by a body of the rebellious Irish: valiant only in imagination, I fainted at the horrors of the conflict, and lay among the slain, till I revived in the hands of some ferocious women, who conveyed me to the cabin of a neighbouring priest, where I was environed by a set of beings, whose appearance and accents resembled those of savages in the Torrid zone.—The priest alone understood ■what I said, and to him I offered a large ransom to carry me to Essex, the Lord Deputy, and protect my sex from, insult. The offer occasioned a violent contest, in consequence of which I was conducted a prisoner to their General, Tiroen. The news of my capture soon after reached Lady Southampton, who instantaneously transmitted a brief account of my story to Essex. But who can paint his feelings when this surprising intelligence first reached him! From the knowledge "acquired in his military command, he knew the character of Tiroen to be unjust and ungovernable,•58 THE RECESS. and he-dispatched an-offi'cer of rank,'charging him, by the' blood of thousands yet unspilt, not to maltYeftt the lady fortune had thrown into his power. It was not till several of these messages had passed, that Tiroen's curiosity led him to visit me; and, when he did, the fatal effect which I most dreaded took place r for the impression I had made on his heart was evidently demonstrated both in the attentions he paid me, and in seeking occasions to prolong the secret intercourse in which he had now engaged with Essex; who, no longer the cool and intrepid hero he once was, and unnerved by the pangs of jealousy when he learned the passion of his rival, determined to have a conference' with him from the opposite banks of a rivulet. " This interview could- not be kept a secret; alas! perhaps it decided the fortune of the Lord Deputy 1" Misjudged by the Queen arid the shallow multitude, -tliey attributed his imprudent conduct to any but the real cause.—Fruitless negociations still continued to crush my hopes 6f Trte'edom, and I began to see that finesse could no longer protect tne from Tiroen^s. baseness.—His proposals were so direct, thkt I one day told him the conduct and love of Es's6x !were: so much mare honourable than this, that I-nfever would substitute such a being as himself in the place of that beloved; hero.:—Tiroen's look and: answer niacle me sensible that from this moment he devoted me to his purpose. I had procured from a surgeon^, who bled me when wounded, a quantity of liquid laudanum, which I had reserved for nVy test and only protection from the licentiousness of, the Irish/, General. ** One4 evening he fentered into my tent in a state of inebriation; and, no longer regarding decorum or respect,' I shuddered at the fate that awaited me.—His unguarded lips, atfter insulting Essex in the power he had over his'EllinOr, told me that he had piirposfely protracted the treaty to ntfn the Lord Deputy in the opinion of Elizabeth, to whohi tie had conveyed indubitable proof of his misconduct. Convinced that I could only escape i'rom the wretch by manoeuvre, I. feigned an intention of .complying with his wishes, and complained of thirst: a glass, of waiter stood by, of which I drank.—Inclination as weJl'as gallantry induced him to pledge me, aud.l insisted that some wine should be added to the water, iu doijig which I mixed the quantity of laudanum provided for,-myself.—The soporofic draught in a"THE "RECESS. 5V few minutes produced its effect, and stretched my enemy in profound sleep on the ground.—A fortitude equal to the danger seemed to arise from the occasion: I clad myself in Tiroen's regimental cloke, which he had.thrown off on entering my tent ; and, under the protection of his well-known-.garb, armed at the same time with a dagger in case of emergency, I passed to die last of the out-posts; I then'retired behind a tent to disrobe myself, and, not without much trepidation, presented the General's signet to the centinel; who, conceiving I was a messenger with dispatches to the English camp, suffered me to proceed. My trembling and unguided feet were blistered ere they reached the English posts: suddenly as I approached, I heard a scout give the watch-word: regardless of returning an immediate answer, the. officious soldierT mistaking me for a spy, levelled his piece, and shot me in the side.-—I feebly conjured the man* if he wished for pardon, to bear me instantly to the tent of Lord Essex ; while my heart, from wliich life seemed every moment to flow, made a courageous effort to collect the-scattered principles it seemed on the point of resigning.—I saw him rush forward, I heard his voice !—But how shall I describe the fearful transports, the touching agonies of his recovered intellects!—I sunk under the keen ecstasy of the moment, and long faintings succeeded, which brought me to the verge of the grave.—The amiable Lady Southampton flew to me at the instance of her cousin, Lord Essex, and their united endeavours at length checked the progress- of my illness. " As soon as my amended health allowed, I related to Lord Essex all that happened sinoe our parting at St. Vincent's Abbey; on the other hand I learned that Tiroen remained extremely ill from the effects ©f the laudanum, and that my courageous, escape was the general conversation of both camps.:—Not long after, the .marked.dissatisfaction, ■whioh existed at the protraction of the ,war» both, in ithe Queen and people, threatening eventually the down£al . of Essex, determined ipe to inform him of the inadvertent acknowledgment ipade hy Tiroen. The honour of Essex felt itsejf.instantly piqued ; and, against my-remonstrance and thatk.uof Southampton,, he concluded a truce,, and set off tQ confront his enemies in the court of Elizaheih.—ThaJtnobW friend, determined to share the fortune of Essex, accompa-niedhim; previously to which it wa& planndEL thai Lady€o THE RECESB. Southampton and I, habited in my masculine attire, should sail from Ireland to the coast of Cumberland; in the most romantic part of which county the Wriothesleys had a castle, where we could securely rest in peace till they returned to their command. " We quitted the port at the same instant in different vessels: both by consent remained on deck till the beloved individual vanished, and nothing remained for me to meditate upon but his last ominous words, " Remember, my love, when next we meet it is to partno more!'' -"In our voyage we encountered a most tremendous storm, in which we took to the longboat, and were thrown by a furious wave on the shore, near the rocky basement of an old castle.—We soon learjted fji©m some fishermen, who had come to our relief, that we were on the coast of Scotland. Recovered a little from our danger, we ascended the steps to the battlements, at the top of which stood a youth and his sister, whose superior dress, beauty, and benevolent manner, assured me at once they were friends.—They conducted us into an antique hall, ornamented with banners and armory, and set before us refreshments suitable to our late distress. From them we learned that we were at Dornock Castle, held by the Laird of that name; that they were brother and sister to that Laird, who was then absent ; that their elder sister Mabel had unhappily attracted King James's attention by her beauty-, and their brother was gone to bring her back. " As concealment became absolutely necessary for our safety, I assumed the name of Vernon, and Lady Southampton passed as my wife; thus we were enabled to sleep together, and communicate our thoughts uninterruptedly. Phcebe and Hugh, our young friends, by their innocence and kind endeavours lightened the load of time that' hung upon us, which was rendered heavier by not receiving any news from England.—At length the Laird of Dornock arrived, but how unlike his gentle kindred !—Sour, imperious, and self-willed, we soon found that he had conceived a fondness for Lady Southampton ; while the gentle Phoebe becoming attached to me from the same motive, rendered it necessary that I should inform her and her brother of my sex. From them we learned that their fair sister Mabel had consented to be the mistress of the King, and there vwps every reason to suppose that our private letters for England had never b^eft forwarded : I changed colour at this intel-THE RECESS. 61 ligence, since it became evident that the LaircT might be iA: possession of our real circumstances, and, assured that my sex was feminine, involve me in the same odious addrestetf with my friend. " A dreary winter passed away in this remote castlfe, an& I had almost ceased to hope, when the sight df ah English vessel, while I walked the battlemeiits, blessed my eyes.—« As the boat made to the shore, I discovered the regimental^ of Essex; in a minute after Henry Tracery, the favourite-' Aid-de-camp of Essex, extended his hand to me, aiid I fainted away as I returned his pressure.—Hugh kindly conducted him itito our apartment; and when Lady Southampton's joy and mine had rendered us more calm, we listened to his brief narrative. " With terror and anxiety," sard Tracey, u I followed my Lord in the vessel destined' to carry' him home.—^When we reached the English coast, Ld*fT Essex proceeded to court in such haste, that h*e was his own* harbinger. We arrived one morning ere the Queen had left' her chamber; but, alas! it was no longer the samie court we had left: the party of the Cecils reigned there triumphantly.—The Queen granted the private audience he requested; and listened, from dotage more than reason, to the weak vindication of his conduct in Ireland. After a long: conference the Earl retired pleased with his interview, and' was instantly succeeded by the crafty Cecil party; wlio,-overcoming her fondness by stating the danger of her own safety if she connived at his treason, procured an order for the imprisonment of her favourite. The haughty Essex, when he received this disgrace, burst out into a cutting sarcasm, more galling than the greatest exaggeration, and declared aloud, " that the Queen had outlived all her nobler faculties, and that her soul was grown as crooked as her body." This personal satire was conveyed to Elizabeth, who committed him to the change of the • Lord Keeper.—-Here'the faithful Southampton was his daily visitant, and fortified his declining spirits, till the non-arrival of any intelligence, by the various messengers they had'dispatched, assured them that you had b6th perished in the storm._ This threw Essex into a nervous fever, and the news of his imminent danger reaching the Queen, she generously granted feim permission to remove to any of his keats in tbe country.<32 TTIE llECESS. V Finding that Essex seemed degenerating into despondency at your loss, to revive his hopes I undertook the task of endeavouring to trace you on the sea coast, upon the faith of a dream I informed him I had had. —He eagerly caught at the idea, and thus Providence has blessed an intention which 1 never expected to be realised." He had scarcely finished, and heard our story, when the Laird of Dornock broke abruptly in upon us.—Tracey, after thanking our host for his hospitality, claimed us as his relatives, aind obtained a permission to depart before the Laird had formed a plausible excuse to the contrary. An unfortunate incident however detained and prevented us from quitting our tyrant.—This was the situation of Lady Southampton, •who was seized with the pains of labor, and brought to bed of,a dead child: between the period of her going to bed and recovery, Tracey had been ordered abruptly to sail away. Happy day of• deliverance! Tracey, after a long lapse of time, once more landed, and presented an order from James fpr our liberation, and gave each of us letters! With lavish tenderness Essex hailed my second resurrection, and vowed henceforward to devote his life only to me, to love, and the peaceful sciences 1 Before we departed Tracey obtained permission to take the hand of the Laird's fair daughter, at the end of two years; and thus, all happy in idea, we set sail, and made the long-wished-for shores of Cumberland.—We found at the port we made servants and every accommodation necessary to render our journey easy; and safely reached the romantic and hidden castle whence I now write my narrative.—So pure, so perfect is now my tranquillity, my dear Pembroke, that'it seems proof even aciains.t misfortune itself! Here, hidden from Elizabeth's power in impassible mountains and solitude, 1 will securely await the .completion of my felicity in the return of Essex! Ijl iji ifc A.thunder-bolt falls ,on my brain!—Avenging heaven! why not annihilate me!—^-TjrJLed!—sentenced !—condemned!— J5ut let me give the ruin scope!—It rages!—it racks my brain!--.0 Lady Pembroke!''-- hady Pembroke contmues. u trembling hand of the friend last invoked takes up the pen to finish the woes of. a fair unfortunate, who will never more be her own historian!—Alas, her miseries hadTIIE RECESS. now reached their climax! When her heart-breaking narrative came into my hands, I coiild not but remark that Ellinor had but a partial knowledge of Essex's character and actions, evinced in his unsuspecting credulity and ambition.—When Elizabeth, after his commitment and subsequent illness, gave him leave to retire to his country seat, he did not perceive that it was an artifice to keep the Queen and him asunder, any interview between whom would have reinstated Essex in full favour.—Even here Elizabeth corresponded with him, and sometimes ventured to reproach him with the unknown lady who had so fatally influenced his conduct, whom she no longer felt as an object of jealousy or anxiety, fully satisfied that Ellinor was at rest in St. Vincent's Abbey.—Here iit solitude Essex remained un-agitated, till Tracey brought the astonishing news that the mistress he adored still existed. * " Tired of unavailing efforts to liberate her, Essex made proposals for that purpose to King James, who only ordered the Laird- of Do mock to confine them more strictly. This treaty was reported to Elizabeth, who with indignation beheld the return of Lssex to London; and, instigated by the Cecil party, delivered up her ungrateful favourite to the laws! The commissioned' lords met at his bouse on Sunday, and they found the Earl sufficiently inflamed, who, swearihg he would never more become a voluntary prisoner, shut up the Lord Keeper and the rest in his-own house,'rushed forth armed, followed by a few friends, loudly calling for protection from the people.:—Without previous intimation^ and on that sacred day, no wonder a few citizens Only were spirited up to defend him against the military.—A skirmish ensued, in which the gallant Tracey fell, and the Earl at length surrendered his sword. His trial and sentence shortly after followed, nor could all the solicitation of his friends induce him to request the Queen to extend her royal prerogative in his favour, though a thousand emissaries informed him indirectly from her of a ready pardon; to whom he replied, " that her goodness had arrived too late to influence him !'* Lady Southampton, on the afflicting intelligence of her Lord's involvement with Essex, set off for London, leaving Ellinor to the care of a faithful servant; whose disordered mind one day, as they rested, mistook a large building for Kenilworth.—Oa being informed that it was Fotheringay o T 2THE RECESS. Castle, (whereher royal mother was beheaded,) she shrieked aloud, tore her fine tresses, and relapsed into total insanity. It ,was the dying wish of Essex to see Ellinor; Southampton having been pardoned, this was his last desire, and she was. conducted to his prison by Lady S. in the habit of a youth. The horrors of her lover's approaching fate alarmed not her pnce-susceptible mind !—Her vague eyes looked on him unconsciously—her ear heard not his voice—her bqsom an^ swered not with a single sigh to the bursts of grief which agonized his breast! From the moment of Ellinor's departure he saw neither friend nor relation, but, turning all his contemplation to eternity, was dead to this world before his execution. At the manly age of three and thirty he perished on the scaffold ! and the executioner severed a head and a heart which, "tad they acted 'in unison, might have awed the world. " A year or more had elapsed of Ellinor's insanity, when the desire of paving evpry medical assistance made me often pi'ing her to London. One night, when it was my t.uin to sit with the Queen, and read her to sleep, the door Apav suddenly open, and the fair fragile formpf EJlin.or entered; the apparent phantom (for such Elizabeth imagined this to Be of the deceased Ellinpr) then advanced, and sunk one ^nee before h^r.—Tl>e Queen instinctively drew me to her, ^nd Riding frer face in my bosom, exclaiiped indistinctly, " Save pie—shield me, Pembroke, from this ghastly spectre !" " Essex is no more!" groaned forth the prostrate ^lJiaor; " J do not mind how you murder me, only let me be jouried in Fotheringay, and have women to attend me l" She t^eq caught the hand Elizabeth from terror had expended, but faintly shrieking drew back her own- and surveyed it with inexpressible horror! " Ah!" cried she, u it is a hand crimsoned vyitji the blood of my mother!—perhaps yyith that of my sister!—and dyed with the blood of Essf.x, your favourite and mine!" The Queen, who had with dif-nculty till this moment preserved her senses, now sunk back into a deep swoon. I then happily persuaded the gentle Ellinor to withdraw, and led her to the little court, where I placed her in my carriage, till I had awakened the ladies in the anti-chamber, through whose inadvertent slumbers she had been suffered to enter.—The unhappy Queen is in the most wretched state, unwilling to bequeath her seep-; tre while dying.—A breathing, memento of the frailty ofTHE RECESS. 65 humanity, all that she now presents is the littleness of all human greatness [Here Lady Pembroke ceases, and Matilda continues her letter to Adelaide de Montmorenci.] I remained so long the resemblance of a statue of despair after reading the manuscript, that Lady Arundel judged it prudent to interrupt my reverie. From her I soon learned that my sister was under the same roof with me, and, deaf to the voice of reason and her intreaties, powerful nature demanded to see her.—The deep, the eternal impression of the awful meeting, even at this remote period, recurs with its full force.—She. knew nae not!—her mind was a mere blank !—O Ellinor, my sister! Lady Pembroke shortly afters this^ event died of a consumption, and Ic.ft, in addition to the money Ellinor had buried," a.sum sufficient to provide that unfortunate with every comfort, placing her favorite maid AJithea with her, and committing both to the care of Lady Arundell.—The unaccountable difference existing in my sister's opinion and •my own, respecting Lord Leicester, afforded me frequent meditation. Another information I had gained from her liptter was, that England had gained a King in the son of Mary Stuart, but I had not gained-a brother.—Determined to form my opinion of him, 1 took an opportunity of seeing him, and found the severity of public report had not gone too far. Repelled, by this visit, 1 thought it wise to bury my. secret in; my own bosom, and endeavour by every possible means to recover the documents and treasure which lay concealed in K-enilworth castle. On the memorable night when I last quitted that dwelling, I assisted Leicester to place in. those secret reservoirs several caskets, to which I added Mrs. Marlow's papers and the testimonials of my birth. My Lord then deposited the keys in my care, which I have ever since retained Lady Arundell kindly propdsed to accompany me, and we set off for that mansion, which I had left magnificent enough for the reception of a sovereign.—Sir Humphrey Moreton was its present owner,, a complete miser, and who had turned its venerable rooms into a manufactory of weavers. We arrived there in the evening, that we might have a pretence for passing the night. Sir Humphrey readily ad-m THE HECESS. mitted oar excuse for staying, and usfael-ed us into thfe very chamber, where we found all the caskets in the same state Lord Leicester had left them. We departed iearl'y the jiekt morning with our treasure, taking with us three old servants, and arrived safely in London, where some emineht merchants realizing the property I had in paper, I now added my fortune to that of Lady Arundell, and we formed only one family,—by vvhich means I hoped, from the contiguity of our residence to the metropolis, th'e better to educate my beloved and enchanting Mary. By degrees I unfolded to her the painful events here coramej morated, and thereby called into existence every sympathetic feeling of her nature. In her affection I found a balm for the evils I had endured, and visions of happiness and grandeur again floated before my eyes —A bout this time Lady Arundell's feeble health sunk into a consumption, and I committed her to the care of my daughter, whil6 I attended my sister, who, indifferent to seasons, was attacked with shivering and a nervous fever, from having remained several hours in the open air, watching the falling snow. One night, fatigued with sitting up, I fell into a fit, and was conveyed to my own bed, where I fell into a stupor, and lay till 1 was startled by an indistinct idea of a heavy fall and a deep groan.—I rushed into my sister's room, where all was quiet, and the nurses lay fast asleep.—Before the dawrt I again visited her room, and on opening the curtains of her bed, found she was not there ! Gracious heavens ! what did I feel!—I tottered into the picture gallery, and there found my Ellinor lying breathless before the picture of Essex at the storming of Cadiz, her lovely hand extended toward him!—Scarce had we interred the dear Baint, before the funeral of Lady Arundell followed.—1 now thought it prudent to change my abode, and therefore hired a mansion near the Thames side in Richmond, (adjoining to the mansion of the Prince of Wales,) to which we removed the following spring. " Returning home one morning in an ill-contrived carriage, we stopped as usual on the brow of the enchanting hill to enjoy the prospect, whfen the sound of horns informed us that the Prince of Wales approached from hunting. My Mary eagerly desiring the man to drive on, the horses, already alarmed by the horns, when Once set ill motion, became ungovernable, and tore impetuously withTHE RECESS. e?7 the cfcrrikge, till it sunk into a deep rut, whence we were thrown oiit ^ith a violence that deprived Mary wholly of sense, and rendered nje nearly so.—We were presently sur* rounded by the hunters, and on each side of rae -stood ft young man, adorned with the order of the garter, anddis-tinguishingly halvdsome. Their regards were wholly fixed On my inanimate daughter, whose exquisite person lay exposed in my arms till she recovered, when, seeing that I wafc safe, she blessed heaven for its protection. " An angel in tnind as well as form !" exclaimed one of the strangers, who proved to be the Prince. Having enquired of the attendants my name, he addressed me by it, and insisted or conducting me home. The other nobleman was the con*-temptible Viscount Rochester, who left us when we -arrived at our house. The Prince seemed delighted with my daughter^-the soft reserve—the roses of her cheeks—and her low harmonious accents, when politeness obliged her to answer the Prince, succeeded afterwards by a happy flow of spirits, new to her, convinced me that the subtle god had Stolen into her heart. The introduction of chance soon ripened into visits of intimacy, and it became necessary, to guard against the malice of surmises, that my daughter should ride out during the hour of the Princess visit. Hence his attendant's, who Saw her regularly depart, were at a loss to imagine what charm could attach their royal Master to the infirm widow of Lord Leicester.—-The Prince was not insensible to my maternal caution, and while be appeared satisfied with merely beholding her as she entered or departed, the desine of opening his heart to me became every day more obvious. The generous Henry one day thus addressed me " Among the many beautiful girls who have already sought to attract trie, I soon distinguished the fair, but selfish and ambitious Countess trf Essex. Vain of her influence over me, she took pleasure in publishing it, and taught me early to blush for my choice. Resolved to contend with my inclination * I have retired hither to conquer it or die; since which, Lady Essex, enraged at my conduct, ;has attached herself to Viscount Rochester, who is governed by her caprices, and I am born to obey him who yields to those of Rochester; yet, under all these circumstances, I ,dare venture to ©flter my heart to your lovely daughter !"63 THE RECESS. To cement the Prince's confidence, I confided" to him the secret of my birth, and the long-saved testimonials, and heard him with rapture avow that he should hail the moment when he could establish the rights of my daughter in his own kingly person.—After this interview, every hour seemed to unite us more and more to each other, and it was agreed that the Prince should pass privately from his garden into ours, the better to avoid suspicion.—Itwas nowautumn, and the time of the king's periodical progresses, when the ■Prince usually accompanied him, and set off for that purpose. Alas ! at his return he looked wan and unhappy, and his rapid decay became visible to an indifferent spectator. Obliged to appear at the celebration of his sister's marriage in London with a foreign Elector, he came tp ,pay us a parting visit. Impressed, perhaps, with the raea that it would be the last, he threw himself into my aims, and shed the first tears I had ever seen fall, from his eyes; then fixing them on mine with a mysterious melancholy, and eagerly kissing my hands, he rushed precipitately to the court-yard, mounted his horse, and galloped away. Henry, the next day, wrote me word that he found himself better, but scarcely were the nuptials over, before he relapsed in a state which medical aid could not relieve.-^Frequently delirious, our names, and his passion for my beloved Mary, unconsciously escaped his lips, and Sir David Murray, his chosen friend, informed us by letter that the King had been apprised of his attachment.—Sir David's next communica^ tion brought the news of his death, and sunk our spirits into an abyss of desolation. We shut ourselves up for a time, and deeply shared in the general mourning,—from which I was rouzed. by the estimable Murray. With horror I heard him declare that it •was the opinion of the physicians that the Prince had beeu poisoned !. and that, after the public suspicion had revolved on various objects, it had at-last fixed itself on me! seconded by the King, who knew that I was the coxistant theme of his son's delirious reveries. Sir David advised a flight to Holland, but this 1 rejected as unworthy of my innocence, and determined to wait on King James in person, for which purpose I gave notice to Lord Rochester, (newly created Earl of Somerset,) who appointed aday for the introduction.THE RECESS. The important .moment at length came, and I the hand which Jani66 irresolutely extended to me. " Doefc your heart," said I, " royal James, recognize nothing of our mother in these features ?—By the ashes of the sainted Mary I conjure you to hear-^-to believe me !-"-Behold here are the solemn attestations of our consanguinity; peruse them cautiously, and beware how you prejudge tihem !•"—-The King, equally agitated with myself, then advised me to (retire to an anti-chamber, while he investigated the testimonials.—When J returned, conducted by Somerset, the King declared he admitted all I wanted to establish, and at once overwhelmed me with a flood of joy !—I threw myself into the arras of my brother, and forgot alike that he was a jking and a consummate iiypaciite ! His Majesty after this .Stated, that the publicity of my birth and affinity should shortly take plaice, and appointed an interview with rfiy daughter at a seat .of Lcyd Somerset's, on the following evening, repeating the encomiums ascribed to her.—As the Jt^ing did no.t re.turn my papejys, I thought it better to leave Jjjem w his hands, Jind set off, with a heart bursting with gratitude, to impart the blessed news to my Mary, afid prepare her for her journey. I decorated my daughter in the most superb and en-jplxantjng manner, .and properly adorned her with the jewels of Anana, and all the graces of art: those of nature ishe abundantly possessed.—At the appointed hour a close carriage came for us, and drove on furiously till the darkness and distance alarmed us.—We at length passed over a drawbridge into a dreary court-yard, whence w© were ushered through some gloomy passages into an eiftpty room. An officer then delivered a packet to me, and the dreadful truth soon stared full upon me.—-The packet contained the infamous declaration which the crafty Burleigh had compelled my sister to sign, while a prisoner in St. Vincent's Abbey.— I had delivered to the King the testimonials of our birth* authenticated a thousand times more Strongly than this base gaper obtained by Burleigh, but proof was of little avail ■yith such a timid, subtle, and base wretch as James ! The heroism of my daughter under this stroke of fate enabled me to support it with more fortitude :—I still retained the comforts of her society, and found a pleasure in •reflecting, that the diamonds on her dress might enable, me to briba npy military keepers.—The apartments allotted to70 THE RECESS. lis were in a gallery, secured by double doors, and rendered comfort ible by the absolute want of nothing but liberty.—Two months had passed away without being able to form any conjecture of where we were, or by whom detained, unless by the contrivance of James and his minion Somerset, when I obtained leave to walk a short time each day in the gardei), within the castle walls.—We were permitted to take this indulgence separately, and I employed it to search the countenances of the various centinels who guarded us ; to one I displayed the rich diamond I wore can my linger, not daring to speak, and his friendly eye said he understood me. One day Mary went to take her usual walk—but she did not return! An agony benumbed my very soul, and all my convulsed lips could' utter was the name of my dear lost Mary! The compassionate centinel I had found watched outside my apartment at weekly intervals; and necessity soon supplied me with a medium of correspondence.—Selecting the words I wanted from a printed book, 1 arranged them on a slip of whalebone, and thrust my communication under the do.uble door, desiring him to win over the centinel who guarded my daughter's room, and procure keys to open the locks; after which, if he would convey us out of the castle, his fortune should be made. In a few clays I received by the same way a satisfactory note, and at the appointed time the centinel opened my door, and conducted me to m> daughter's room, who, elegantly habited, had sunk on a couch asleep.—A writing table stood, before her, on which lay a letter, and her answer to it.—I tottered to the table, and, catching, at the.letters, seemed to grasp in them my very fate!—The first was a letter of love from Somerset, in which, after regretting that I was inexorable to him, be promised to indulge my daughter's wish as soon as his'divorce was effected, and he had obtained the King's consent to many her.—Fearfully I read the answer, which ran in substance as follows: " What ages of suffering does your love, my Lord, impose upon me!—Why do you. so unkindly delay from day to day the sight of my beloved mother! Oh that I could lay my burning head one moment on her bosom! Catherine gave me some whey yesterday— perhaps I wrong her, but I have not been myself since, and could fancy myself dying!—Oh! if I judge aright, release my mother, and. conceal from, her-" " Ah, what.THE RECESS, 71 exclaimed I, in terrible agony;—of all the horrors that bewildered my mind, one, one alone could my senses ascertain,—that my hapless girl was indeed dying! As I threw my arms round her, she faintly shrieked, and grasped my hands, seemingly in the agonies of death.—She made one effort to speak, and with incoherent accents she addressed me. " Condemn me not wholly, my mother, however appearances may incense you.—At the moment we first saw Prince Henry, he was accompanied by Somerset; we then conceived a mutual affection; and, during the frequent visits of Prince Henry, when prudence induced you to send me abroad, Somerset availed himself of those opportunities to confirm my prepossession in his favour.—During the last progress of the King, Somerset, resolved to profit by the absence of Henry, had entered the pavilion, and was kneeling at my feet* when the Prince unexpectedly drew near —He retreated on beholding Somerset, and I Hew after him to apologise; but his generous nature only regretted that I had not earlier undeceived him, and cautioned me that his rival vjas a married man! Indignation at the deception of Somerset, and regret for my condugt to Henry, then filled my bosom: but I was unworthy such a lover, and heaven took him from me!—When within these walls you requested the. liberty of more air and exercise, Somerset presented himself a^&in before me, detailed the iniquities of his wife, and informed me that it was owing to his interposition we had both existence and accommodation. I was at length wearied into forgiving him; and as the divorce was in great forwardness, I had determined not to see you till I was his wife— a day heaven had pre-ordained I should never see!—One who pursued her point more effectually has punished all my youthful errors. I have often thought my food tinctured with p'oison,—yesterday—Alas! my mother!—.giye me your pardon while I am yet sensible of the blessing!"—Here my daughter threw herself into my arms, and closed her etyts for ever! In the mean time the centinels, alarmed for their safety by our long interview, abruptly entered the chamber, and pointed their bayonets to my breast, to mafe me separate from my daughter; but threats only linked me the more closely to her dear corpse: they theu seized and bound all the intruders, and made their escape. A dreadful calm succeeded in my mind, and deep contemplation at last sunk into a temporary insanity. In this irritated state ITHE RECESS. lay till reason again' dawned, and the pious DeVere, Chaplain to the Earl of Somerset, reconciled me to life by his holy cotinsels. He brought a letter fiom the Earl, invoking my forgiveness, and cursing his wife, who, by tampering with one of my daughter's maids, had got her to administer the poison which had robbed him of every earthly felicity! I afterwards accorded him my pardon, thinking I had judged too harshly of him. The pious De Vere, by preserving and restoring my jewels, shewed his' equity; and as soon as J was able, I retired to France, where my fever returned with mot-tal symptoms. Happily the arrival of the English Ambassador at the inn where I was, accompanied by his inestimable daughter, yourself, my sweet Adelaide, has saved my life. Condemnation, infamy > and solitude, are now the portion of Somerset and his execrable Countess, who have been' convicted of a similar crime, long buried in oblivion, without my havitigi once disturbed the sacred ashes of my Ma:ry.k— I every day expect the pious De Vere to join my household: from his hand accept the casket I bequeath; and suffer him to lead you to the nameless grave* where he will" iliter my sad remains—drop 011 them a few of those holy tears with which virtue bedews the unfortunate; then raise your eyes to heaven, and in a better world leok for MATILDA. T- Piummtr, PrJfttcr, S.^etMnf-Las?,