A1r

The
Esquimaux.

A Tale.

Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-Street, London.

A1v A2r

The
Esquimaux;

or,
Fidelity.

A Tale.

In Three Volumes.

By
Miss Emily Clark,
Grand-Daughter of the late Colonel Frederick, and
Author of
Tales at the Fireside, Banks of the Douro, Poems
Dedicated to Lady Lonsdale
, &c. &c.

“A faithful heart its ample store Can more than eastern treasures pour; ―――its price is known To pure and noble souls alone! It lends the lip a richer glow Than Persian rubies can bestow.” V.

Vol. I.

London:
Printed at the Minerva Press for
A. K. Newman and Co. Leadenhall-Street.
18191819.

A2v omitted
B1r

The Esquimaux.

Chapter I.

“So man his fellow-man should cheer, Whate’er the clime that gave him birth, For we’re but brother pris’ners here, Sprung from one common parent—earth.”

It was on one of the finest summer
mornings that are known in the island
of Newfoundland, and in the month of
June, that Rose Douglas, her brother,
and sister Jane, were busily engaged in
constructing a bower. They had fixed on
a pleasant opening, where a great number Vol. I. B of B1v 2
of trees had been felled. It fronted the
sea, and was surrounded with groves of
the spruce fir, and intermingled with
creeping plants and wild shrubs. Ponto,
their faithful dog, lay stretched at his
ease near them, and was of that fine and
noble species peculiar to this island.

General Douglas, their father, had embarked,
with his wife and family, from
Quebec, in a sloop of war. A very ill
state of health obliged the general to resign
a lucrative situation he held in
North America; he hoped, therefore,
for the sake of those dearer to him than
himself, to receive benefit when he arrived
in England, from the mild salubrious
air of Devonshire. A residence
of several years in the West Indies, and
in difference climates, had injured a constitution
naturally strong, and a soft air
was more beneficial for his health than
the severity of a winter at Quebec. The
cheapness of provisions in the west of
England was likewise another recommendation,mendation, B2r 3
as it would be an advantage,
from the contracted state of his present
finances.

In a retired valley, embosomed in a
wood of many years’ growth, and five
miles distant from any town in Devonshire,
was an ancient solitary mansion,
surrounded with a few acres of ground
appertaining to it, though formerly a
very large estate belonged to the house.
This was now the property of the general,
in right of Mrs. Douglas, his wife;
and to this place he intended to retire on
his landing in England.

General Douglas was descended from
one of the first families in Scotland, and
began the world with a good fortune,
besides his commission; but a generous
unsuspecting nature made him too easily
a prey to the artful, cold-hearted, and
designing. Thus, when he married the
honourable Miss Treharne, who was as
poor as himself, he found he had little
more than his sword to depend on. But, B2 courageous B2v 4
courageous in the cause of love as he
was brave in the field, he loved too well
to despair, and by his judicious conduct,
his cool and steady courage, he gained
the admiration of his brother-officers.
His superiors esteemed him, and his
advance in the army was rapid; yet,
with all this success, he found it difficult
to support the rank of a general
officer, as he had little more remaining
than his pay. A numerous family, of
whom three only were now living, was
a heavy expence, but, by strict economy,
the general and Mrs. Douglas succeeded
in maintaining a good appearance; and
being universally respected, the truest
harmony, the most unbounded confidence,
subsisted between them, and they
never regretted, in any scene or situation,
however trying, that they had risked
friends, fortune, every thing, from
their attachment to each other.

The general had a brother, residing
in a remote part of Scotland—a bachelor, old, B3r 5
old, rich, and avaricious. He was several
years the general’s senior; and
though he well knew his embarrassments,
would not assist him in the most
trifling degree. If he could have been
attached to any one, the general would
have had the first place in his regard:
but, alas! his affection centered in his
treasures—they were brethren, wife, children
—all, to his sordid mind. But general
Douglas
endured this with the fortitude
of an upright mind. At his death
he knew he should inherit the estates (if
he withheld his personal property), and
with that consolatory reflection he was
resigned.

The Enchanter sloop of war, in which
the Douglas family had taken their passage,
was commanded by captain Burton,
an acquaintance of the general’s.
The ship was to touch at the island of
Newfoundland, to make spruce beer for
the crew to drink, who were rather in B3 an B3v 6
an unhealthy state, and severely afflicted
with the scurvy, having been for three
years chiefly at sea, where they had encountered
dangers most severe, with many
hardships and privations.

They anchored in a small unfrequented
bay, which they preferred, as they did
not wish to be interrupted. On landing,
they found this spot quite uninhabited;
and the sailors, by felling a great
number of trees, soon obtained materials
for building two huts. In one they placed
a copper for boiling the spruce, and utensils
for the beer, with every necessary requisite
for its completion; and the other
hut, on a larger scale, was for the accommodation
of the officers and passengers
when they came on shore. But the active
minds of the young Douglases could
not be satisfied with the shelter made by
the seamen, and united their efforts to
compose a bower, according to their own
fancy, which was to be exclusively theirs and B4r 7
and their parents, when they made a visit
to the land in the day; for all returned
on board at night.

Rose was at this period fourteen years
old; but being taller than is usual at that
age, with a figure most completely formed,
she was generally judged to be seventeen.
Her person gave a striking promise
of that dazzling beauty which was afterwards
so much admired. Rich ringlets of
golden hair waved round a face beaming
with expressive sweetness and good-humour.
The bright lustre of her large hazel
eyes was heightened by the beautiful
bloom that tinted her cheek. Her
features were not strictly regular, but the
tout ensemble was so captivating, that no
mind of taste thought of asking if that
face was regularly handsome.

Felix, her brother (and never was a
brother more tenderly loved by a sister),
was a year older, and promised to be a
model of personal elegance and manly
beauty. Nor was his heart undeserving B4 of B4v 8
of an exterior so perfect. Every virtue
and excellence that adorn the human
heart glowed in his youthful bosom, and
gave the fairest prospect of decided
worth.

Jane, the youngest, was of a very different
disposition, though she had some
good qualities, which compensated, in a
slight degree, for the excessive violence
of her temper. Her spirits were lively
and ungovernable; but when good-nature
influenced them, her countenance
was animated and pleasing. Her blue
eyes sparkled with fire; and when she
laughed, she displayed the whitest and
finest teeth ever seen. Ringlets of chesnut
hair, resembling glossy silk, clustered
on her pretty little head, and her figure
promised to be slender and well-
proportioned.

When their bower was finished, they
repaired to it every day, and were sometimes
visited by their father and mother,
who enjoyed the shade and refreshingfreshing B5r 9
sea-breezes, though they all
found the gnats and other stinging insects
very troublesome. If the weather
did not allow them to quit the ship,
Rose amused herself with drawing different
berries, of which there were a
great quantity on the island, and some
curious butterflies. She likewise painted
a curlew, which Felix shot, feeding
on the partridge berry, that makes a tart
resembling the cranberry.

The curlews are excellent eating, and,
at this season of the year, were exceedingly
plump with feeding on the berries.
Felix was a very good shot, and supplied
the captain’s table with wild geese,
ducks, and venison; for a great many deer
inhabited the woods in Newfoundland.
The sailors, by fishing, procured the fine
cod-fish which frequent this coast in
shoals, and they were constantly supplied
with fresh provision of the best
sort.

Felix never penetrated into the woods B5 unattended, B5v 10
unattended, on account of the wolves
and bears, that might attack a single
person, if ravenous, successfully. The
voracious wolf or sluggish bear rarely
approached any spot where inhabitants
were to be found. The black and brown
bear were very harmless, and it was only
the white bear that caused any apprehension.

One afternoon, Rose and Jane, attended
by their faithful Ponto, had penetrated
alone rather further than usual
into the adjacent wood, as Felix was
gone on a shooting-party. A most fragrant
smell tempted them to proceed,
and Jane exclaimed—“I am certain
there is a strawberry-bed near.”

They followed the delightful scent,
till they reached a bank covered with
this refreshing plant in its wild state.
The scarlet fruit blushed beside the verdant
leaves, and peeped out from the
grass that endeavoured likewise to conceal
them, but in vain, as its fragrance betrayed B6r 11
betrayed their hidden beauties—like
modest merit, that unobtrusive would
secrete itself, till brought to light by
some penetrating liberal eye.

Rose and Jane regaled themselves,
and at the same time filled a small basket
for their father and mother, and the
good-natured captain Burton. Ponto
likewise amused himself, and they could
not avoid smiling to see him nipping the
strawberries; but fearful he would devour
too many, they soon drove him
away.

The basket was quickly filled, and
they were returning to the bower, when
a low moaning broke on their ear from
the stillness that reigned around. A
deep groan followed. Ponto whined,
raised his ears, and darted forwards,
while Rose, whose gentle feeling heart
was ever alive in the cause of humanity,
eagerly but unthinkingly followed the
dog to the spot from whence the sound
proceeded.

B6 Horror B6v 12

Horror and astonishment now overwhelmed
her, for, extended on the ground,
wounded and bleeding, was a young
female Esquimaux Indian. Ponto looked
at Rose, wagged his tail, and then
lay down by the poor Indian. Jane at
this moment came running to them, and
assisted Rose to bind up the wound,
which was near the shoulder, in the
broadest part of the arm, with her cambric
handkerchief.

She could speak a little broken English,
from having associated with British
Americans
and English people in her
childhood, with whom she had been a
favourite, and had ever since been delighted
when she could meet with them.
In her simple sincere manner she expressed
her gratitude to the young ladies,
but in feeble accents.

The Esquimaux had lost a great deal
of blood, and was very weak; and having
helped her to rise, they supported her
between them, till they reached their arbour,bour, B7r 13
and reposed her weakened frame
on a bed of dried spruce fir boughs, and
placed her bow and arrows by her side.
The sisters then gave her some wine to
drink, which was fortunately in the
bower, and covering her with a boat-
cloak, made signs for her to go to sleep,
and that they would watch at the entrance
that nothing should disturb her.

The wounded Indian seemed glad to
be in security and quiet, and sleep soon
pressed heavily on her eyelids. Rose
and Jane sent a sailor to the ship, to inform
their parents of what had passed,
and seated themselves on a log of wood,
under the shade of a tree near the arbour.

When the Esquimaux had remained
tranquil about half-an-hour, the sisters
went in to see if she slept, and were
pleased to observe that her slumbers were
as calm as an infant’s. Her long shining
black hair flowed nearly to the ground;
her skin was a deep brown, and her cheek B7v 14
cheek had the colour of a new-blown
rose, from the feverish heat that burnt
in her veins. Her features were very
pretty, and her face as round as an apple.
She had not the large head and flat face
that distinguishes the Esquimaux, nor
their thick lips; her mouth was small,
her lips red as coral, and her form beautifully
modelled. The boots that enveloped
her feet had slipped off, and discovered
the prettiest smallest foot ever
seen, and perfectly clean. A plume of
white feathers, of a snowy downy texture,
and various-coloured beads, decorated
her jetty hair, and silver ornaments
adorned her ears. Altogether,
her figure was interesting and attractive,
and quite a novelty to Rose and Jane,
who viewed her with admiration and interest.

Kamira (for thus the Indian was
named) was exactly eighteen years old.
The treachery of a female mountaineer,
who was in love with Losquillo, Kamira’sra’s B8r 15
husband, and endeavoured to entice
him from her, was the cause of this outrage
—the mountaineer being fearful,
while Kamira lived, that she should not
be quite successful in detaching Losquillo’s
affection from his wife. Kamira
had been married only a few months to
Losquillo, who was ardently attached to
her, when the artful and wicked Robecka,
the mountaineer, strove to seduce
the affections of her husband.

The tender and gentle Kamira began
to be deserted for the bold Robecka,
whose tall stature and commanding air
seemed as if she demanded homage from
the mild and gentle Esquimaux, and her
meagre visage and ferocious eye presented
a disgusting contrast to the soft
countenance of Kamira.

Robecka had all the bad qualities of
her tribe, united with the vices of European
nations. She was immoderately
fond of strong drink, and, never satisfied
with any quantity she obtained, still craved B8v 16
craved for more; constant falsehood
stained her lips, and no property was secure
where she entered. Kamira was
soon informed of the fondness of Robecka
for her Losquillo, and was resolved,
as much as possible, to follow him whereever
he went that she could conveniently
accompany him, though she disliked
roving about, as was the custom of her
country-people, and had rarely left home
before.

Robecka, though born a mountaineer,
was the widow of an Esquimaux, and
possessed a worthless, merciless, and revengeful
heart. This Kamira knew, and
feared that by her constant influence she
might render the inoffensive Losquillo as
depraved as herself, if she was not also
with him to counteract her power; for
Losquillo was of that pliant disposition
that, like the reed, bends to every blast.
This disposition is pleasing to its possessor
and associates, when it meets with
amiable characters only, who will not take B9r 17
take an unfair advantage; but most dangerous,
when a vicious character gains
an ascendancy over a gentle yielding
mind.

While Kamira remained with her husband,
Robecka found her dominion
much lessened; and enraged to madness,
she watched in ambuscade for Kamira,
when she had separated from her party
in pursuit of the deer.

Fatigued with the chace, the young
Esquimaux had thrown herself on the
grass, in a shady spot, to repose her
wearied frame, when the sanguinary
mountaineer crept unperceived, and before
she was aware, stabbed her with a
tomahawk.

But the blow was not struck with the
force and effect Robecka intended—it
wounded her arm, instead of her breast,
at which she had aimed; and as the
guilty, however daring, are easily alarmed,
the approaching voices of Rose and Jane B9v 18
Jane made her afraid to stay and repeat
the blow.

The wretch now fled from her victim
with the utmost swiftness, only regretting
that she had not effectually destroyed
her, though she hoped she had
wounded her so dangerously that she
might linger, and, for want of proper assistance,
perish from her wounds, or from
being destitute of food. At all events,
she knew, from her being in a light slumber,
that she could not know who struck
the blow, and if she recovered, would be
ignorant of her assassin.

Robecka had just reached their nightly
haunts, when she encountered Losquillo
and his companions. He asked
her if she had seen Kamira? and Robecka
answered, that two hours since she
saw her pursuing a fine red deer, but
mentioned that it was in a direction
quite opposite to where she had left her,
wounded and bleeding.

No B10r 19

No more was thought of this till night
was far advanced, and she had not returned
to their noctural rendezvous.
Losquillo then became very uneasy, and
after searching for her several days,
though always distant from where she
actually was, he resigned every hope of
recovering her, and gave credit to a tale
related by one of his friends. It was,
that Kamira had been destroyed by a
white bear, as this friend had seen a
white bear, by a stream of water, growling
over the mangled body of a female
Esquimaux, whose dress and size appeared
to resemble Losquillo’s lost wife.

It was now the period for him and his
party to quit Newfoundland. Disconsolate,
he quitted this island, that had
proved so fatal to him, resolving never
to land again on the detested spot. But
the American Indian soon proved that
he was not more constant than the more
refined European, and, in a very short
time, appeared to console himself with the B10v 20
the caresses of the treacherous mountaineer,
for the amiable and lovely Kamira’s
loss.

While these events were passing, Kamira
slowly recovered from the effects of
her wound. Mrs. Douglas, with her
husband’s and captain Burton’s permission,
had her brought on board, where
she remained till she was sufficiently recovered
to go occasionally on shore. She
was then allowed to visit the favourite
bower with their children, and to attend
them when they walked, or strolled in
the woods, with Ponto to guard them.

Rose improved Kamira in the English
language, and taught her to read.
The rapidity of her improvement was
remarkable, and her attachment to them
all seemed to grow with it, but more
particularly for Rose, whose gentle method
of instruction made her like to
learn.

Miss Douglas was very proud of her
pupil, and it would have made a pretty picture, B11r 21
picture, to have sketched the deep embrowned
countenance of the Esquimaux,
in her native dress, on her knees, taking
a lesson from the fair-haired English girl,
in whose face sweetness and benevolence
were depicted.

But Kamira was very melancholy,
though her wound was nearly healed.
She had learnt, from two mountaineers
who came in a shallop to the bay, that
Losquillo had landed at Labrador, and
was gone up the country, a great way
off, with Robecka, to whom, it was reported,
he was now married, as Kamira
was supposed to have been murdered by
the bears, or eloped with another Indian.

When Kamira heard this, she wrung
her hands, struck her bosom, and wept.

Rose cried to see her poor Esquimaux
thus afflicted, and tried to comfort her;
and the general and Mrs. Douglas, who
were also present, strove to sooth her.

When she was a little recovered, Kamira
gracefully addressed them.—“Good white B11v 22
white people,”
said she, extending one
arm as she spoke, “take Kamira to your
country, where the great king lives. Let
her be your servant and your children’s!
Your great king and your country shall
then be hers. Never shall the chain you
have bound round her heart be broken;
the chain shall be always bright. No
people have a quicker feeling of injuries,
nor a more grateful rememberance of favours,
than Esquimaux Indians. If you
wanted food, my bow and arrow should
kill the wild deer as it runs, and the
birds as they fly in the air; I would
catch the fish too, as it moves in the water,
for you. If you required clothing, I
would hunt the beasts for their fur, to
keep you warm, and bears’ and foxes’
skins I would lay at your feet.”

As she pronounced these last words,
the Indian bowed her head, and knelt to
them.

The general raised her up, and Mrs.
Douglas
, with his approbation, assured her B12r 23
her they would be happy to take her
under their protection, if she was certain
she would be contented at a distance
from her native land, and consent to
wear an English dress; that if she
agreed to it, she should be dressed in a
few days as an Englishwoman.

The docile Kamira gladly complied
with this request, and from that moment
became more cheerful, as her fate was
now decided, and she was not in a state
of uncertainty, as suspense was painful
even to her uncultivated mind.

The following day, when Felix was
as usual absent, engaged in hunting or
shooting, the sisters were sitting with
Kamira, in a small grove of birch and
mountain-ash trees, almost out of sight
of the bower and huts, when a loud
scream attracted their attention. They
looked around, and saw the sailor-boy,
who watched the spruce when boiling
in the copper, running with great speed
to them.

They B12v 24

They advanced to meet him, and his
face presented the truest picture of terror
they had ever seen.

“What’s the matter, Jack?” said Miss
Douglas.

He was almost breathless with running,
and could not speak for a few minutes.
“Oh, ladies!” he then exclaimed,
“a great black bear has just come
into the hut, and went to the pan where
the molasses is kept, to put in the beer,
and, I dare say, has eat it all up by this
time. While he was busy licking it up,
I ran out, and was so glad, for I was
afraid, when he had pleased his sweet
tooth, he would have eaten me up.”

Rose and Jane burst out a laughing,
and Jack was very angry, and shook his
head.—“You would not have laughed,”
said he, in a surly tone, “if you had
been there; for I am sure he would have
devoured you and me, if the molasses
had not been in the way to please him.
And who knows, when he comes out, but C1r 25
but he may fly at us, and tear us to
pieces? for I left my gun in the hut, I
was in such a hurry to get out.”

“Ladies—Jack—all go away, a great
way off,”
said Kamira, “and with my
bow and arrows you see me kill great
bear; Kamira kill many bears, wolves.”

Rose and Jane ran back to their
bower, and Jack got up into a tree, as
he judged that it would be too much
engaged with the Indian, when she attacked
it, to climb after him.

Surfeited with its sweet food, the
shaggy animal presently came slowly
from the hut, and Kamira aimed an
arrow so dextrously, that it pierced the
rough beast to the heart; it staggered
and fell, but not till another arrow had
darted through its head. Kamira aproached
when she saw it motionless,
and then called to Jack, who descended
quickly from his leafy situation.

When Rose and Jane perceived him
with Kamira, they knew all danger was Vol. I. C over, C1v 26
over, and hastened to the spot. They
were delighted, as well as Jack, to see
him extended lifeless, as they feared,
if he had not been dispatched, he would
have made them another visit.

Rose now proposed that they should
make Jack a present of the bearskin, to
sell when he arrived in England, as a
little compensation for his fright, and
for having been laughed at.

Jack was quite pleased, and said he
should not mind if another bear came,
provided Kamira was there to shoot it,
whose skill he much admired. He entertained
the ship’s crew when he returned
on board with the story, and the
wonderful dexterity of the young Esquimaux.

The period now expired for the Enchanter
sloop of war being stationed at
Newfoundland; and the spruce beer was
made, and all ready for sea. Kamira
was seen attired as a neat English servant.
She was willing to do every thing C2r 27
thing well, and had such a quick capacity
to learn, that Mrs. Douglas found
her most useful and attentive. She
looked very lovely in her new attire,
but not so handsome and interesting
as in her native dress.

Felix and his sisters expressed their
regret at leaving the island where they
had passed so many happy hours to their
mother, who replied—“And you will
ever lament and remember it, my dear
children. The world is now opening to
you; and though I hope you will ever
retain a taste for pure and simple pleasures,
yet I fear you will seldom meet
with them so unalloyed, as in this sequestered
bay, in the island of Newfoundland.”

A favourable wind now filled the sails
of the ship in which they embarked:
they weighed anchor, and the vessel cut
the waves.

Rose stood on the deck, and Kamira
sat near her, drooping and sad.

C2 When C2r 28

When the island and coast of Labrador
were no longer distinctly seen, Kamira
clasped her hands in agony, stretched
them towards the coast, and in the
most touching tone of voice, and moving
expression, exclaimed—“Losquillo!
Losquillo! oh, my own Losquillo!”

Chapter II.

“Ye sportive elves, as faithful I relate Th’ entrusted mandates of your fairy state, Visit these wilds again, with nightly care; So shall my kine of all the herd repair In healthful plight to fill the copious pail; My sheep lie pent with safety in the dale, My poultry fear no robber in the roost, My linen more than common whiteness boast.” Cotswouldia.

Nothing unpleasant occurred during
the voyage of the Douglas family to England; C3r 29
England; but when they landed, the
general found himself rather more indisposed
than usual. They affectionately
took leave of captain Burton, who
was a good-natured friendly young man,
and promised, whenever the duties of
his profession would allow, to visit them
at Treharne.

By slow journeys they passed through
Wiltshire, Somersetshire, and Dorsetshire,
that general Douglas might not
be too much fatigued. Though they
admired the counties through which
they had passed, yet Devonshire claimed
their greatest admiration, from its
picturesque and varied views.

Every thing was new and delightful
to Kamira, who had not time to reflect
on any painful subject, her mind being
soothed with unchanged kindness, and
engaged with a variety of objects. Her
young friends were nearly as much entertained
as the Indian, for it was so C3 many C3v 30
many years since they had been in England,
that all was novelty.

It was late in the evening when the
party arrived at Treharne, and its sombre
shade, that darkened the adjacent
woods, threw a melancholy gloom over
the edifice, which was seated in a deep
valley. But no melancholy existed in
the minds of the younger part of the
family.

Notwithstanding they derived a great
deal of amusement from their journey,
yet the idea of reaching their own home
was most pleasing, and Rose observed
to Felix“There was something in
home that was always sweet and agree
able.”

The building appeared to have been
intended for a place of great security,
and its venerable majestic appearance
gave it an air of departed grandeur. It
had four turrets, and was encompassed
by a deep moat, which extended to the river C4r 31
river that flowed in front of the edifice.

To enter Treharne Hall, you were
obliged to cross this river, that meandered
through the valley; and for that purpose
an old drawbridge was let down,
which was seldom drawn up. The river
was narrow, and a boat kept moored
there to row from the Hall, and another
on the opposite side, for the convenience
of crossing the water.

An aged man, with hair as white as
silver, and florid complexion, was waiting
on the bank of the river to ferry
them over. His daughter, a stout,
healthy young woman, opened the Hall-
door, and conducted them into the mansion,
where her father and herself had
done their utmost to make it as comfortable
as they could.

Robin had been an old domestic of
viscount Treharne’s, Mr. Douglas’s father,
and was much attached to the memory
of his lord.

C4 the C4v 32

The vestibule was hung with armour,
intermixed with statues of some of the
ancestors of the Treharne family. The
house was furnished in the most antique
style; and they were much entertained
with the uncommon height of
the candlesticks. The chairs in the eating-room
were of gilt leather, and so
heavy, that no female hand could lift
them. Flowered crimson satin curtains
ornamented the drawing-room, to which
the rest of the furniture corresponded,
and the walls were hung with family
pictures. The oaken floor was rubbed
till it shone like a looking-glass, and it
was so slippery, they could hardly walk
on it—Mrs. Douglas proposed purchasing
a carpet as soon as possible. But
the library was the apartment they
most admired, as it appeared to contain
an extensive collection of books, and
looked into a beautiful shrubbery, filled
with rose-trees and a varied number of
beautiful shrubs, though they had been neglected C5r 33
neglected for many years, and flourished
in all the wild luxuriance of nature, as
Robin was too old now to work hard,
therefore it was impossible for him to
keep all the grounds in perfect order.

The family at Treharne had been settled
there but a very short time, when
they received visits from several ladies
and gentlemen, who were resident at
that period in the neighbourhood and
many miles distant. After they had appeared
at their parish church, which was
half a mile from the hall, and situated in
the large romantic village of Fairfield,
they were visited likewise by its most
respectable inhabitants. Mrs. Douglas
felt additional satisfaction at their having
a prospect of society, as she wished
Rose, from the timidity of her disposition,
to be frequently in company, that
she might in some degree conquer it, as
her natural diffidence obscured her merit,
and she appeared to less advantage.
Often was her timid reserve ascribed to a C5 haughti- C5v 34
haughtiness and pride, quite opposite to
her real character, for no one could be
more humble and modest.

The affection of this good mother for
her children filled her with a thousand
apprehensions. It made her look forward
to futurity, and ruminate with
anxiety on the general’s ill state of health.
In the event of his death, their circumstances
might probably be cruelly embarrassed,
and, deprived of their valued
protector, they would have to encounter
a world which the excessive timidity of
Rose little calculated her to meet. Had
she possessed the unblushing confidence
of Jane, she would not have been so anxious,
and hoped her path through life
would be less dangerous and painful:
yet, while she prepared her mind for
whatever misfortunes might be inflicted,
she still trusted that the blow she dreaded
would be long averted, as the loveliness
of her daughters made her tremble
for their fate.

They C6r 35

They had, indeed, a brother, most tenderly
attached to his sister, but she expected
that in a year or two he would be
separated from them. Felix had alreaddy
evinced a decided preference for the
profession of arms; and it recalled to the
general’s mind the youthful ardour that
had glowed in his own breast at his age,
and therefore he could not oppose his inclination.
He wished, with Mrs. Douglas,
that Felix had fixed on a pursuit more
lucrative and less replete with danger,
yet felt an irresistible pleasure at his
brave boy evincing the same predilection
as he had for a military life.

The first visitor they had at Treharne
was lady Morrington. She came in a
curricle (she drove herself very well), and
accompanied by a young emigrant French
lady, who was her companion. Her ladyship
apologized for lord Morrington’s
not coming with her, as he was particularly
engaged.

Rose and mademoiselle de Rimont C6 were C6v 36
were mutually pleased with each other.
The countenance of the latter was pleasing
and animated; her figure was very
small, but well proportioned, and had
she not been marked with the small-pox,
she would have been pretty; and her
agreeable lively manners made her preferable
to one perfectly handsome, who
wanted animation.

Mademoiselle de Rimont laughed, and
told Rose, that before they called, she
said to lady Morrington“I hope Mrs.
Douglas
and her daughters are not formal
and stiff in their behaviour, as most
of the English, for I detest them when
they are so. As for the general, I doubt
not he is polished and passable, for military
men are seldom ceremonious and
reserved.—I should like very much,”

added she, “to take a walk in your garden,
which, I hear, is very pretty, as
your mother and lady Morrington appear
to be earnestly engaged in conversation.”

Rose assented, and mademoiselle de Rimont C7r 37
Rimont
followed her and Jane to the
moat, where general Douglas had just
had a temporary wooden bridge placed
across, for the convenience of walking
to the garden, as it was more convenient
than ferrying over in a boat.

The garden had a wide terrace, which
commanded a pleasing view, and the
most rare, sweet-scented, and beautiful
shrubs and flowers, were planted profusely
on each side. At the end of the
terrace was a walk, shaded with high
trees, terminated by a picturesque pond,
planted on each side with weeping willows.
The terrace sloped down to a
lawn rather extensive, with a wall all
round. It was concealed with trees, so
thick that you could read, work, or walk,
without being seen by any one.

Here the sisters and mademoiselle de
Rimont
strolled.—“I wish you may
often come to Morrington Castle,”
said
she, “as I think you will be amused. It
is deliciously situated, bounded on one side C7v 38
side by magnificent hills, on the other
by the sea, where there is a machine
to bathe. My lord has an excellent Italian
cook; and do not think me a glutton for
being pleased at having French dishes
well dressed every day. His lordship
has a great share of vivacity; the house
is constantly full of company, and he
will insist on my being always present,
as well as the English governess. But
I must tell you, ma chere,”
she continued
in a low voice to Rose, for Jane
was gone to procure some fruit for her,
“that there are disagreeable things,
as well as agreeable, in the family.
Lord Morrington is the only child of
the dowager lady Morrington. He is
consequently an enfant gâté, and terribly
passionate; he swears and damns
every body, if out of humour—but it
does not last; he is then feeling and sorry
—altogether very eccentric. Lady
Morrington
is likewise of a very cheerful
disposition, and behaves to me and the C8r 39
the governess as if we were her sisters:
but my lord and herself have deceived
me respecting my situation there. I
was to be her companion, as she was acquainted
with my parents in France,
and to instruct her little girls in French
and music, which the governess does not
properly understand, and good masters
are not to be had in the country; but I
am now desired to teach two boys also,
and another just come from school; a
little cousin is likewise introduced at the
lessons. What is still more ridiculous,
not satisfied with this, when we are without
company, lady Morrington makes
me read French, and the governess translates
it very indifferently, which is quite
wearisome; et je vous assure que je
m’ennuie beaucoup c’est bien triste
.
But, to make amends, lady Morrington
is lively, gay, and good-natured—elle
badine
, and says she will get me a good
husband, as many agreeable young men
visit at the Castle: but one, she will say, is C8v 40
is stingy, another worthless, and this one
jealous; and her diverting manner sometimes
amuses me”
.

At this moment Robin appeared, to
inform mademoiselle de Rimont her ladyship
and the carriage were ready. Rose
and Jane attended her to lady Morrington,
who solicited them to come with
their mother, when she returned the visit,
which she politely hoped would be
soon. Miss Douglas, delighted with
her new friend, affectionately wished her
good-morning; and Jane, as she presented
the fruit, said she hoped to gather
some more for her very shortly.

Miss Polly Wizzle, the daughter of
the apothecary at Fairfield, was announced
the instant after lady Morrington
drove off. She was about fifty, affected
youthful levity and a youthful style of
dress, but appeared very good-humoured,
which prepossessed Rose and Jane in her
favour. Her face was round and chubby,
of a yellow hue, and thickly seamed with C9r 41
with the small-pox, but almost constantly
on the broad grin, secretly to display
a good set of teeth; this beauty would
naturally have been discovered without
distorting her countenance incessantly.
Her father, mother, and brother, desired
their compliments, she told Mrs. Douglas,
and would embrace the first opportunity
waiting on her and the general;
but her father being now indisposed, her
mother was engaged in nursing him,
and her brother, Mr. Jeremiah Wizzle,
in attending his father’s patients.

Mrs. Douglas replied, she would be
very happy to see them; and after some
desultory conversation, Rose, with the
enthusiasm of a young mind, to whom
all is new and delightful, expressed how
much she was charmed with mademoiselle
de Rimont
.

“I am sorry to hear you say so, Miss,
begging your pardon,”
said Miss Polly
Wizzle
. “Why, you have not known this C9v 42
this lady even a few hours, and how
can you be so taken with her? And
a Frenchwoman too! La, bless me!
you must excuse my prejudice, but I
never could fancy any foreigners, but,
above all, a French person; they are so
deceitful to what English folks are!”

Rose was astonished and hurt to hear
this opinion of her new acquaintance,
and looked dejected.

Mrs. Douglas, who knew, from her
undisguised expression of countenance,
what passed internally, smiled, and thus
addressed Miss Wizzle“Forgive me
if I cannot coincide with you respecting
the deceit of foreigners, and particularly
of the natives of France,
against whom you seem to be most
prejudiced. Politeness and attention are
not incompatible with sincerity; and
we ought to feel grateful to those who,
by their refined and attentive manners,
put us in good-humour with ourselves. I have C10r 43
I have known some French ladies and
gentlemen who have proved the most
ardent and sincere friends, and I have
known many of my countrymen and
women, under a coarseness of behaviour
that disgusts those accustomed to good
society, conceal a deceitful insincere disposition.
But I thank you, Miss Wizzle,
for your observations, as I wish my
daughter to check her propensity to be
so easily charmed with every new object,
as she will find it dangerous, when
she is introduced into the world, and
has not her mother to always guide her
in the choice of a friend or acquaintance:
when she has seen as much of
mankind as we have, she will not be so
sanguine.”

Miss Wizzle did not appear pleased
at being classed with Mrs. Douglas,
who, in fact, complimented her highly
by it, as Mrs. Douglas was ten years
younger than Miss Polly Wizzle; but
she liked to be associated in every respectspect C10v 44
with the young people, whose parties
she always joined, in preference to
the society of those more suitable to her
time of life. She was now dressed in
deep mourning, and looked very respectable,
with her hair thickly powdered, and
as white as the sugar on a twelfth-cake.

Miss Polly discouraged Rose’s sudden
partiality for mademoiselle de Rimont,
but proved herself equally weak, by affecting
to be quite captivated with Miss
Douglas
and her sister; and calling them
her sweet young friends, hoped they
should frequently meet and walk together.

As she was talking in this strain, Miss
Jane Douglas
said, with great naïveté
“Don’t be displeased, Miss Wizzle, but
I think you are as giddy as Rose, for
you seem as much pleased with us as
Rose is with mademoiselle de Rimont.”

“You know that is quite different, my
dear,”
rejoined Miss Polly, with the usual
grin; “I am an Englishwoman, and sincere— C11r 45
sincere—nothing hollow about me: I
am not French.”

Jane found it difficult to repress an
inclination to laugh, as she thought Miss
Polly
had no reason to fear being taken
for a French lady, as her manners were
so inferior. She was quite relieved at
her rising to take leave; and when
she was gone, diverted herself at her expence.

Mrs. Douglas checked her.—“She is
certainly very ridiculous, Jane, but I
shall not allow you to laugh at her, as I
think her a good-natured well-meaning
woman, and will not have her censured,
unless I find any thing in her mind to
disapprove. For her prejudices I make
an allowance, as she has been educated
in a village almost two hundred miles
from London.”

Kamira appeared perfectly happy, and
assisted Dolly, Robin’s daughter, who
was very kind, in doing her work. The
Indian quickly learnt every thing that Dolly C11v 46
Dolly knew, and was partial to the
kitchen department, and most laborious
employment, from having been accustomed
to violent exercise. Dolly was
infinitely pleased, as she preferred waiting
on the young ladies and Mrs. Douglas,
and working at her needle, which
Kamira disliked.

Adjoining the kitchen was a small
neat housekeeper’s room, where Dolly
sat with Kamira when their toil was
finished. Dolly sometimes worked at
needlework, and Kamira sung Esquimaux
songs, and related stories of her
country, which she described to the
wonder-struck country girl, with their
sports and customs. Then would Dolly
astonish Kamira with tales she had heard
from her childhood, of ghosts and hobgoblins
most terrific.

At the period of this history, the
lower class of people in Devonshire,
and even the farmers, tradespeople, and
others of respectability, were very superstitious,stitious, C12r 47
and believed in spirits, witches,
and fairies. The fairies they called ferries
and piskies; and Dolly told Kamira
there was a field near Treharne, called
Ferrie’s Field, where you could see the
rings in which they danced, and whoever
went through that field at night
was pisky-led, which meant, that they
could not find their way out all night,
but kept walking about to discover the
stile, and did not, till the sun rose.

Dolly said her uncle was pisky-led in
that field, and he heard the little ferries
laughing at him because he could not
find out either stile, as there were two
in this field, it being a thoroughfare.

Felix and Miss Douglas were passing
the housekeeper’s room one evening,
when they heard Dolly, who had an
harmonious voice, singing a very pretty
tune. They both went into the room,
and asked the name of the song.

“It is an old country ditty,” replied Dolly, C12v 48
Dolly, “that aunt Brownson, the miller’s
wife, taught me.”

“You will oblige us,” said Felix,
“by singing it again.”

Dolly, blushing, replied—“She was
ashamed to sing before a gentleman and
lady.”

“Never mind Mr. Felix and Miss
Rose
,”
cried Kamira; “Miss Jane would
make game, but Mr. Felix, Miss Rose,
they no laugh. Tell all about ghosts
in white, eyes on fire; and little ferries
dance, and laugh and sing. Oh, such
prit story that you talk me! and they
make me all fright, and yet like to hear
them.”

“I shall be pleased to hear the stories,”
said Felix, “but I would rather have
the song first; and I know my sister
would too.”

Dolly answered, that she would obey
their wishes, but must inform them this
song was taken from a true story, that happened D1r 49
happened when there were many more
ferries than there were then. There
used to be a little pisky come to Treharne,
and when the maids were clean
and industrious, do their work; but now
she seldom came, and she had not seen
her, though Robin, her father, had.
After apologizing for having a cold,
which made her hoarse, Dolly at length
began.

“Hecate Peskadoe. In ancient days, when ladies great They turn’d the spinning wheel, The baron’s daughter, Emma fair, She plied the rock and reel. And when her wheel industry turn’d, The flax she quickly drew, Proud of her child, her mother’s love For Emma daily grew. Sweet Emma early rose one morn, The dew was on the grass, To end a task her mother gave, Her other work surpass. Vol. I. D D1v 50 To spin the yarn she early rose, Ere gleam’d the morning sun; But wonder struck the lovely maid, Behold, that task was done! And soft a voice harmonious breath’d— ‘My favour’d gentle maid, Don’t curious be, nor let thy friend Be easily betray’d. Seek not to know: a friend sincere On thee unknown doth gaze, And with thy mother’s love thou’lt gain Esteem, unenvied praise. Meek is thy temper, kind, serene, Industrious as fair; And if not curious, shall be nam’d The maiden good and rare. Ingenuous, thy spotless mind, That others’ woes can feel; Yet I would obscured1 letterach thy artless breast No secret to reveal. For one I knew was pure as thou, With gossips, stories tell, And soon her tongue, that lik’d to talk, Did scandal relish well. Nightly I’ll turn thy spinning wheel, To prove my friendship true; Yet diligent thou still may be, And other work pursue.’ The D2r 51 The voice it ceas’d, and Emma sigh’d To know this friend so kind; Her only fault, too curious maid, A restless, prying mind. Inquisitive, for many nights She could not rest or sleep; At length she thought ’twould be no harm, To slyly take a peep. All in the baron’s castle slept, The moon shone bright and clear, Imprudent Emma softly creeps, Though trembling, wan with fear. In the great hall her wheel was plac’d, Which quick a beauty plies, Though tiny was her dazzling form, Of azure blue her eyes. The wings of butterflies composed Her robe of texture rare, A wreath of apple-blossom twin’d Her light and silken hair. Sweetly she warbled, gaily sung— ‘Ah, little does she know, My pretty mistress, that I’m nam’d Hecate Peskadoe. For her I’ll cull the scented flow’r, The ripest fruit that grows; Emma no curious lady is, Or prattling slander knows. D2 "Away, D2v 52 Away, ye cares! nor wound her breast, Of candour, truth, the throne, A virtuous youth, of noble birth, Shall Emma call her own. Forewarn’d of curiosity Was Emma, ne’er deceiv’d; My watchful care—’ The fairy starts, Her figure is perceiv’d. Dim grew the light—a cloud obscur’d The moon’s soft splendid beams; The warning fairy disappears, Like fleet illusive dreams. No wish could lure her back again, Repentance or device; But Emma ever lov’d the fay, Observ’d her mild advice.”

Felix and Rose thanked Dolly, and
praised her singing and the old ballad,
which they thought very interesting,
they told her, but could not believe it was
taken from a real history.

“If you don’t believe me, I am sure
you would believe what aunt says, if
you heard her tell all about it. I believe
she has seen the baron’s daughter,
when she was a little girl, and she was as D3r 53
as handsome a young lady then as you’d
see on a summer’s day. Bless you! I
should have sung better if I had got a
bit of lemon to suck first; it is such a
good thing for the voice. When cousin
Betty
comes to see me, I ask her to sing,
because she knows hundreds of songs,
and she always says, ‘have you a piece of
lemon?’
If I have, I give it to her, and
when she has sucked it, she will begin
to sing, till her voice echoes through the
house; you may hear her a mile off.”

Felix laughed, and said—“We are
quite satisfied with the tone of your
voice. I should not like, Dolly, to hear
any one to sing so loud.”

“It is enough to stun a body indeed,”
replied Dolly; “but it seems fine to
hear such a clear voice.”

“Yes, if you were lost in a wood, and
wished to be heard,”
rejoined Miss
Douglas
; “and pray, Dolly, do not apply
to lemon, if it is to have such a noisy
effect. I suppose your aunt has left off D3 singing D3v 54
singing songs now; but I should like to
hear some of her tales. We will walk
over to see her to-morrow evening, as
we have no engagement, if it is agreeable
to you, Felix; and Dolly must be
one of the party, to introduce us to her
aunt.”

Felix replied—“I thought we were
going to Fairfield, to see doctor Wizzle
and his lady; otherwise I like the plan
of visiting aunt Brownson.”

“That is only to be a morning visit,”
said Rose; “but I forgot—I have not
yet asked my mother’s permission. Is
it far, Dolly, from Treharne?”

“Only half a mile to the bottom of
the hill where she lives, Miss.”

Felix and Rose easily obtained leave
to visit Dolly’s aunt, and Jane requested
to join them in their walk the next
evening.

The following morning Mrs. Douglas,
her son and daughters, walked to Fairfield,
and directed their steps to doctor Wizzle’s D4r 55
Wizzle’s
house, as he was usually styled.
The general rarely accompanied them in
these excursions, as he did not like company,
his ill state of health preventing him
from enjoying any society; and though
he seemed lately a little better, his time
was most frequently passed in his library,
garden, and in riding on horseback.

Doctor Wizzle appeared to be near
eighty, and had a plump, good-natured,
rosy face. His figure was thick and
short, and his wife’s tall and thin. She
was a very dark woman, and always
held her hand to her head, from being
troubled with a violent pain in her head
continually. The son, a little plain man,
with his mother’s complexion, was sensible,
well behaved, and a good disposition;
but his manners were formal in
the extreme—frequently quite ludicrous.
Miss Wizzle was visiting in the village,
but Miss Rachel, her sister, was present.
In person she resembled her elder D4 sister, D4v 56
sister, but was quiet and inoffensive in
her manners.

When Mrs. Douglas and her children
arrived at the apothecary’s shop, they
were ushered into a parlour, painted dark
brown. The Wizzles rose to meet them,
and advanced to the door, exclaiming all
together—“This is a favour indeed!
this is a favour indeed!”

The room was so obscure, being at the
back of the shop, and painted so dismally,
that Mrs. Douglas could hardly
distinguish their physiognomy. At
length, with great ceremony and compliments,
they were seated quietly.

“So, Miss Jane,” said the little doctor,
in his shewy plaid morning-gown, and
placing his hands on his knees—“so,
Miss, you are an American?”

“Oh no, sir,” Jane replied, “we
were born in England, and have only
resided several years in America.”

“Well, well, I understand, I understand,stand, D5r 57
my dear; but you have early beheld
another part of the world. I have
sailed to the American islands, though I
have never seen London, or been more
than thirty miles from this village, where
I first drew breath.”

“I find, mad-dam,” cried Mr. Jerry
Wizzle
, who always drawled out the
word madam ridiculously long and slow,
“that you enjoyed rational solitude
when you first came to Treharne, not
shunning human beings as tigers, or
courting them as friends. I wish health
may shower its blessings on the good general,
and peace, mad-dam, strew his path
with flowers. What more can the world
give?”

“You are perfectly correct, sir,” replied
Mrs. Douglas, diverted with his
uncommon formality.

At this instant Miss Polly was announced.
She had returned the day before
from Dawlish, where she had been
visiting since she called at Treharne, and D5 was D5v 58
was quite enraptured with it. Proudly
she shone in all the glory of shining bugles,
and a hat loaded with feathers, that
waved like those on a horse at a funeral,
and seemed adorned for conquest.

Dawlish had quite reanimated her
and turned her brain; she could never
again endure Fairfield, it was so dull.
There were several families of distinction
at Dawlish, and a pack of hounds that
go out three times a-week; she often
fell in with them in her rides, and
had she staid much longer, she would
have been a keen sportswoman. The second
morning after her arrival she had
a fine view of the Channel fleet, sailing
past the place, and from her bed-room
could see the finest sight in nature—the
sun rising, as it were, from the ocean.

“Very fine, very fine, Polly,” said
the good doctor: “why, Dawlish has
made you poetical! But, speaking of
more common things than the sun, do
oblige us, Mrs. Douglas, by drinking a cup D6r 59
cup of tea here soon, with your son and
daughters—I am fond of the company
of young people; for your stay is so short
now, we have hardly time to feel our
pleasure.”

“The days will lag tediously, maddam,”
added Jerry, “till that time; but
my mind’s eye will see you, and my ear
retain the sound of your voice; and I
hope I shall behold those daughters
of yours, looking as very, very pretty as
they do now.”

“For my part,” rejoined the doctor,
“I like to hear Miss Rose laugh, there
is something so happy and cheerful in
her merry ha, ha. But I cannot think
how you amuse yourselves, the Hall
stands so very lonely. Do you ever
play at cards, as they do in this village,
sometimes from eleven in the morning
till eleven at night?”

“We are going to act a play,” Jane
eagerly replied; “it is to be Tancred
and Sigismunda
. But you would call it D6 burlesquing D6v 60
burlesquing instead of acting. I am to
be the heroine, Felix my love, my mother
Osmond, as she will do any thing
we ask to entertain us, and Rose is to be
Siffredi, in a Welch wig and blue domino.”

“The only tears your tragedy will
produce, Miss Jane,”
answered the doctor,
“will be tears of laughter, I fancy;
and may you never cause any other!—
they are not afflicting.”

Felix and his sisters were much pleased
with the worthy doctor Wizzle, who
shook them heartily by the hand when
they left him.

In the evening they commenced their
walk to Ashwater, where the miller’s wife
lived. Their way to it was down a long
sloping hill, that serpentined, with trees
on each side, and the scenery was beautiful.
The cottage of the miller, clean
white-washed, and the watermill near it,
looked very picturesque. Two other
rustic habitations were near, and, envelopedveloped D7r 61
in orchards of apple-trees, had a
rural romantic effect. The banks were
covered with wood strawberries, and
nut-trees (intermingled with eglantine
and woodbines), which promised to produce
a plentiful stock of nuts.

In the miller’s garden were several
neat beehives, with thyme and aromatic
herbs planted near, and a profusion
of flowers, rose-trees, and myrtles, in
bloom, were trained to the casements on
the first floor; the roses hung in blushing
clusters, and diffused their perfumed
odours, and the snowy blossoms of the
myrtle gave a spicy fragrance to the
evening gale.

A sleek cat, who seemed to live in the
abode of plenty and quietude, was gravely
seated at the cottage-door. Ponto,
who was, as usual, with them when they
walked out, began to bark at pussy, and
dame Brownson made her apperance, to
see what was the matter.

Felix called off the dog, and Dolly now D7v 62
now introduced them to the dame, who
was a most respectable-looking old woman,
about seventy; and they all entered
the cottage. She wished them to walk
into her little parlour, but knowing the
dame generally sat in the kitchen, they
insisted on remaining there, as they were
anxious not to derange her.

They admired the oaken dresser, ornamented
with old-fashioned china plates,
and the best teapot and tea-equipage.
A very handsome clock was placed near
the door, and an old japan cabinet stood
in the corner, filled with punchbowls,
glasses, jugs, and china, of an ancient
date, that had been handed down, for
many generations, to the miller.

Dolly now informed her aunt the
young ladies and gentleman would be
glad to hear her relate some of her wonderful
stories, which had so often entertained
her at Christmas time.

“I am grown too old now, Dolly, to
be good for any thing, even to tell a tale— D8r 63
tale—yet many’s the one I have amused
their grandmamma with. She was a
dear good lady, when I lived with her
as her ladyship’s maid. We were much
of a muchness in point of age.”

Jane jumped up from the wicker chair
she was sitting on, and exclaimed—
“How! did you ever live with lady
Treharne
? and did you ever see our
mamma?”

“Ay, ay, Miss—many’s the time,
before you were born, or thought of.
When I lived with your grandmamma,
they did not have such fine ladies for
maids as they do now-a-days. Miss
Douglas
is very like my dear mistress;
it’s paying you no bad compliment, Miss,
so don’t blush about it, for your grandmamma
was called the beauty of Devonshire.
But I believe, poor dear lady!
she died of a broken heart, at her son’s
turning out so wicked, and using his sister,
Mrs. Douglas, very ill. Ah, he is a cruel D8v 64
cruel one! Excuse me, Miss, for speaking
so of your uncle; but, indeed, your
mamma is the flower of the family.”

“How very singular that my mother
did not tell us this!”
cried Felix.

“I suppose, young gentleman, it is
because it makes her unhappy to talk
about it, as he is the same as no relation,
since he never comes to see or inquire
after his sister or her children; therefore
don’t be noticing to her what I have
told, as perhaps she would not like the
cat to be let out of the bag.”

“But if my mother knew you lived
here, she would be glad to see you, I am
sure.”

“Why, I can’t say, master Douglas;
perhaps it will remind her of scenes best
forgot; though, God knows, I should rejoice
to see the dear lady I have carried
in my arms when she was a baby, and I
young and strong.”

Dame Brownson and Felix conversed for D9r 65
for a long time on this subject, in which
Rose occasionally joined; but Jane looked
cross and discontented.

“We shall certainly inform my mother
of your having known her, and that
you lived with lady Treharne,”
said Mr.
Douglas
; “but we will have the prudence
to avoid repeating your description
of my uncle, as we would not, for
any consideration, make my dear mother
unhappy. That is the reason she
often sighs and looks melancholy, which
I attributed to my father’s frequent illness.”

“But, dame Brownson,” exclaimed
Jane, in a peevish tone of voice, “I wish
you would tell me some ghostly or hobgoblin
story.”

“It is too late,” replied Felix, “we
must hasten home, or it will be quite
dark before we reach the Hall, and our
parents uneasy.”

“No, it won’t; do stay a little longer.
I would not have come, if I thought to have D9v 66
have been disappointed in hearing something
ridiculous.”

“We have heard what is much more
interesting—and perhaps it will fatigue
Mrs. Brownson; another time will do as
well, and we shall have a good excuse
for doing ourselves the pleasure of calling
again.”

“You may call by yourself, sir,” and
she walked, as she repeated these words,
in no gentle tone, into the garden.

“I am sorry,” exclaimed Felix, “you
are so childish, selfish, and rude. Pray
excuse her, Mrs. Brownson; she will
know better when she is older, for her
heart is not so much in fault as her temper,
which cannot endure the most trifling
disappointment.”

“I am sorry for her,” replied the
dame, “for how will she go through
life with any comfort? It is seldom
that all goes smooth with the best and
richest. Ah dear! she seems of her
uncle’s temper; and you, young lady and D10r 67
and gentleman, resemble your mamma
and lady Treharne in good-nature.”

Just as dame Brownson finished speaking,
they heard a loud exclamation from
Jane. She had been peeping into one
of the hives, and having disturbed some
of the bees, two had stung her on the
forehead, which swelled up in a moment.

The dame applied some sweet-oil to it,
and they wished her good-night, Jane’s
good-humour not being heightened by
this accident.

Her brother and sister were sorry for
her mishap, but had difficulty to refrain
from smiling, she looked so ruefully with
this addition to her countenance, which
had previously lost all sweetness from her
cross temper.

As they walked forward, a poor woman
was sitting by the side of the road,
who you could perceive had been very
handsome, though burnt with the sun,
and dressed like a beggar. A boy of
five years old, well dressed, except his shoes, D10v 68
shoes, which were in holes, was playing
before her. Soon after a sailor on
crutches, with one leg, joined them, and
bowed to the young ladies and Felix respectfully.
Neither asked charity, though
they seemed to want it.

Something in their appearance moved
the compassionate heart of Rose, and approaching,
she gave them a few halfpence.
They thanked her with a modest air, and
the woman then related their distress.

They had already travelled a hundred
miles, on their road to a gentleman’s
house, who respected her husband, and
would befriend him and his family. The
night before they had slept in the open
air, not having money to pay for a lodging,
though they had been accustomed
to have a good house of their own, well
furnished. Her husband had been a sailor,
and lost his leg; in consequence of
that misfortune, he worked at a lucrative
business, to which he was brought up,
and earned two guineas a-week; but sickness, D11r 69
sickness, and the business he was engaged
in falling off, they by degrees were
reduced to the most distressing penury.
Their cruel situation influenced them to
undertake this long journey, and they
had walked till the poor woman’s shoes
and stockings, and her son’s, were in a
dreadfully worn-out condition. Of nine
children this victim of affliction had
borne, this little boy alone was living,
and on the road she had been delivered
of a dead child.

“If you were near our house,” said
Rose, “I could give you some shoes better
than those, and some refreshment.”

“We will follow you there,” replied
the woman, “if you will give us the direction,
my lady.”

Rose described where Treharne was,
and began to walk on very fast, with
Felix and Jane, while the unfortunate
group followed them at a respectful distance.
A little while after they reached home, D11v 70
home, the sailor, with his wife and child,
arrived there.

Rose gave them two pair of shoes, a
clean pair of stockings for the woman,
and some victuals and money, for which
they were humbly thankful, and, like
people who had seen better days, apologized
to Dolly for the trouble they gave
her. They all eagerly devoured the
food, which proved they were no impostors,
and the little boy seemed particularly
hungry.

Gratefully they thanked Miss Douglas,
saying she was the best friend they
had known a long time, and pursued
their journey with comfort.

Mrs. Douglas approved her daughter’s
conduct, and only lamented their narrow
income restrained them from doing
more good to these poor people.

They had no opportunity of mentioning
dame Brownson having been servant
to their grandmother, as the general was present D12r 71
present all the evening, and they were
unwilling to introduce the affair before
him. Felix likewise was averse to mentioning
an unpleasant subject then, as it
might revive painful recollections, and
disturb their parents’ respose that night.

Jane concealed her chagrin before
them, though she could not the accident
that had happened. The general told
her she must prove herself a soldier’s
daughter, by learning to despise pain,
and feel contempt for the sting of a bee.

General Douglas found a great deal of
amusement in improving this old mansion,
and adjoining grounds. He had
the drawbridge removed, which was in
such a tottering decayed state, that it
was dangerous to walk on; and all visitors
either came in the boat or crossed the
wooden bridge at the back of the house.

Chap- D12v 72

Chapter III.

“Riches alone the world’s attention claim— Curs’d be the soul that first rever’d the name! Fondness for gold no other fondness bears— No brother’s kindness, no parental cares; Gold bids whole hosts in horrid wars contend; Thro’ this the good untimely meet their end. But, worse than all, the thirst for gold destroys The bonds of love, and nature’s purest joys.”

The following morning, when the general
was engaged in his library, Felix and
his sisters repeated the occurrences of the
preceding evening.

Deep emotion agitated the countenance
of Mrs. Douglas, and her eyes
were suffused with tears. After the silence
of a few minutes, when she had
subdued the feelings that oppressed
her, she said—“I should like exceedinglyingly E1r 73
to see dame Brownson; she was
indeed a very faithful servant to your
grandmother, and I shall appoint some
time for her to come here, or call on her
at her cottage. I rejoice to hear she is
so comfortable. It has been, and is now
my intention (on the first day that your father
passes from home), to relate many circumstances
respecting our family, which
you are at present old enough to have
confided to you. I rely on your discretion,
never to speak on the subject (unless
with my permission), as it is painful
to me to converse on it; but I have long
since resolved to conquer this reluctance,
as it is necessary you should be no longger
unacquainted with the conduct of
your near relation. At present we must
think of preparing for our visit to lady
Morrington
; I fear she will judge me
a stranger to politeness, if I any longer
delay it.”

Mrs. Douglas, accompanied by Felix
and Rose, rode to Morrington Castle, it Vol. I. E being E1v 74
being customary for ladies who had not
a carriage to ride very much on horseback,
the hills being so steep, that it was
fatiguing to walk far.

Lord Morrington was with her ladyship,
and three dogs lay at his feet;
several of these canine animals were
in the hall, and in every room which
they passed through, which gave the
Castle the appearance of a dog-kennel.
Such was his passion for them, that
he suffered these animals even in his
bed-chamber, and her ladyship dared
not repine, though it was a severe punishment
for her, as she was particularly
neat and clean. His lordship was a
fine-looking man, good-humoured when
not irritated, by contradiction to any of
his whims, to shew the violence of his
temper. He was so partial to the fair
sex, that he could not endure a man-servant
in attendance on his person. A
woman waited on him, called my lord’s
maid, who officiated as valet, attended him E2r 75
him at night, and assisted him to undress;
and when he was ill, was his constant
attendant. He often rallied mademoiselle
de Rimont
, and told her he would
have no ugly woman but herself in the
house—in fact, all the females were very
good-looking; and, thus surrounded by
women and dogs, he was happy.

“I hope you had a pleasant ride, Mrs.
Douglas
,”
said lady Morrington, “and
have not met with a disaster similar to
that which has befallen mademoiselle de
Rimont
?”

“Your ladyship is certainly in the
right to laugh,”
rejoined the lively
French girl. “I am of opinion that Mr.
Thomson
, the gentleman you have wished
to give me for a husband, intended
to kill me, or he would not have lent
me (whom he knew to be a novice) so
spirited an animal. The horse took
fright, and galloped away, without my
being able to stop him. I jumped off,
being too frightened to check it; and E2 Mr. E2v 76
Mr. Thomson is not well pleased, fearful
I should spoil his steed, and will not
lend it me again, as I had not the good
fortune to break my neck. Imagine
how ridiculous my appearance must have
been, suspended by my habit to the saddle!
Happily the servants were at a
distance, as lady Morrington says my
legs were very visible.”

“I think you have had a narrow escape,”
said Mrs. Douglas; “I should
not have thought of the ludicrous situation
you were in, but of the danger—it
makes me shudder. As you are so unskilful,
I would advise you never again to
attempt riding on horseback—a donkey
will be the best conveyance for you;
and, if you should be thrown off, you
will not have far to fall.”

“Could you recommend me a governess,
Mrs. Douglas?”
asked lady Morrington,
“as I am going to part with
mine; she has not conducted herself
lately in a manner I approve. But I feel for E3r 77
for the poor wretch, as she will find herself
very miserable in any other family.
My lord persuades me to be very indulgent,
but I do not know any governess,
or companion, treated so well as ours.
In my opinion, too much attention to
such sort of persons is quite unnecessary.”

His lordship did not notice this speech,
as he was engaged in conversation with
Miss Douglas; and her mother replied
to lady Morrington, that she was not acquainted
with any one of the description
she required, being lately returned to
England, and having mixed so little in
society, adding—“You must allow me
to differ from you, respecting the conduct
to be observed to be a governess or
dependent. It is true, some are very
vulgar, and of low extraction, possessing
indeed shewy accomplishments, but deficient
in good manners or solid acquirements.
Characters like these ought not
to be put on an equality with a lady of E3 cultivated E3v 78
cultivated mind, who has been well educated,
and is of a good family.”

“Oh, I do not care a pin for my governess
being a gentlewoman,”
rejoined
her ladyship.

“You astonish me!” said Mrs. Douglas.
“Is there any thing so dear as
one’s children? and can your ladyship
support the idea of confiding these beings,
endeared to us by nature, to a woman
of unpolished manners, and that has
not been early accustomed to refined society?”

Lady Morrington made some trifling
answer to those observations, and Mrs.
Douglas
judged, from the sentiments
she had developed, that her ladyship had
a great deal of mean pride. But it ceased
to surprise her, when, on her return
home, she was informed by her daughter
that lady Morrington’s origin was
very low.

Miss Douglas accompanied mademoiselle
de Rimont
into the school-room, to E4r 79
to see the children, and afterwards to
her apartment.

“Did you observe,” said Louisa de
Rimont
, “how proud her ladyship is?
It is not surprising, when we consider
that she was only a servant before she
was married to lord Morrington, who
has educated and improved her. How
different is my lord! With all his faults,
he has no haughtiness, and plays with
me as if I was his child. If she were
mistress, she would not let me dine at
table, and says that a governess, or
companion, ought never to make morning
visits, and she would be enraged if I
did. You see, ma chere, one cannot
know people directly, nor indeed for a
long time, for I thought lady Morrington
very amiable till lately, and now I
find it is not all roses. How true is the
saying, we must live with one acquaintance
to know them truly! She has frequently,
what you call in English, a cross E4 look, E4v 80
look, and continually answers whatever
I say with the uncivil exclamation of
nonsense! in the most ill-tempered tone.
It is the governess who has desired to
quit the family, as lady Morrington is
much vexed at losing her, whom she has
used extremely ill.”

Lady Morrington, before they parted,
obtained a promise from Mrs. Douglas,
that she would visit her again in three
weeks (with Miss Douglas) for a few
days. Her ladyship expected a large
party about that period to assemble and
remain a fortnight at the Castle, observing,
at the same time, that the general
and Felix could ride over every day, as
she had not room sufficient to accommodate
them.

As lady Morrington was one of those
deceptive characters who possess only
the semblance of good-nature, it is not
to be supposed that her attention to Mrs.
Douglas
proceeded from any prepossessionsion E5r 81
in her favour, or amiable motive,
but merely to gain a pleasing addition to
her party. Mrs. Douglas was, in society,
lively, sensible, and exquisitely well-
bred; she was perfectly handsome, and
her daughters improving daily in loveliness,
made them a desirable acquisition,
more particularly as Mrs. Douglas,
though not affluent, was known to be
related to one of the most ancient families
in England. The general was likewise
well born, and his connexions wealthy.
Rose Douglas was indeed too
young to be introduced into company,
but she looked older than she was, and
her diffidence and opening charms created
indulgence.

On their return home, they found the
general had rode out, leaving word that
he should not return till the evening.
Mrs. Douglas judged this was an excellent
opportunity for relating many incidents
to her children. They all repaired
to the library, and sending for Jane, E5 their E5v 82
their mother commenced her promised
narrative:—

“It was at a magnificent seat of my
father’s that I first drew breath, five
years after the birth of my brother, the
present lord Treharne. When I was of
an age to distinguish one object from another,
and capable of any attachment, I
was partially fond of my brother, as he
continually amused himself in caressing
and playing with me. He was then a
handsome good-natured boy, and did
not develop the seeds of those vices so
fatal to himself and his relations.
The days of my childhood passed like
a pleasant dream, which served to make
the contrast of succeeding hours more
painful. My father inherited but a small
patrimony to support the dignity of his
station; yet he did not feel anxious to
have this income augmented, as neither
my mother or himself was expensive.
The first moment they were sensible of the
narrowness of their fortune was when my E6r 83
my brother George had been two years
at college. Heavy bills, which he had
incurred contrary to their wishes and advice,
were brought in; yet they had represented
to him, when he was sent to
Oxford, that if he wished to sustain the
appearance of a nobleman and gentleman,
he must not be extravagant. Instead
of receiving the mild remonstrances of
his parents with contrition, George gave
way to the violence of passion he too
frequently indugled; and irritating his
father, caused my mother to suffer the
deepest affliction. Her sweet and gentle
disposition could not endure these
scenes of indelicate altercation on the
part of a son she loved with maternal
tenderness.
Lady Treharne soothed her husband,
who was the best of men and of parents,
and was too easily influenced by the wife
he loved to pardon him. I was then only
eleven years old, and my brother seventeen;
but the fury and disobedience he E6 evinced E6v 84
evinced made an impression never to
be obliterated, and first weakened my affection
for him, as I truly loved and revered
my father and mother. From
that instant lady Treharne adopted a
more rigid economy, and deprived herself
of many comforts, unknown to her
husband, that she might be enabled to
supply my unfeeling brother with additional
money to gratify his profuse propensity.
Her ladyship hoped by this
method to prevent George from wounding
and agitating my father’s mind, by
running in debt, and even persuaded his
lordship to increase his allowance, though
very inconvenient to them.
By these precautions and deprivations,
this excellent mother hoped to save
her son from disgrace, and her husband
uneasiness. But vain were all her cares
to cure a mind depraved by bad company
and example. He could not endure
the least opposition to his wishes, and
was so extremely selfish, that he would not E7r 85
not sacrifice any gratification or inclination,
however trifling, to please another,
not even for that good mother, whose
life was constantly embittered to promote
his comfort.
George had been absent three years
on his travels, and I was seventeen when
he returned home, accompanied by a
gentleman he introduced as his friend.
How striking was the alteration vice and
dissipation had made in his appearance,
though he had only attained the twenty-
second year of his age! A sallow paleness,
intermixed with spots of some eruptive
humour, had taken place of the manly
bloom which gave a tint of health to
the fairest skin a man should possess.
His figure, graced by personal symmetry,
was now disfigured by a distorted
limping gait, proceeding from a wound
received in his thigh, when engaged in a
disgraceful duel; an unskilful surgeon
had improperly managed it, and rendered
him for ever lame. If I was shocked, imagine E7v 86
imagine the agonizing feelings of his parents,
who doted on him, notwithstanding
all his faults; and their emotion deprived
them, for some time, of utterance.
Alas! had his figure been alone deformed,
and not his mind, they could
have endured the reverse with fortitude
after the first shock, however melancholy
for them to behold thus early the wreck
of a fine person. Had this disfigurement
originated from any brave or noble action,
or in fighting in defence of his
country, it would have consoled them;
for too soon did they learn, that those
evil propensities which formerly swayed
him had increased to an alarming height,
with the addition of other criminal faults.
On the continent, where gaming is
very prevalent, he had acquired that destructive
habit, which frequently reduced
him to his last sous, and caused him to
become considerably in debt. Unfortunately,
many persons lent him money,
influenced by the excellence of my father’sther’s E8r 87
character, whose integrity was well
known; and from the good appearance
lord and lady Treharne made, they were
generally supposed to abound in wealth.
Unfeeling as George was, he was almost
distracted when he reflected on the
wretchedness of his situation. The selfish
usually are acutely alive to their
own afflictions, though they cannot pity
the sorrows of another. His despair had
arisen nearly to frenzy, and he would
eventually have destroyed himself, had
not one ray of hope darted into his imagination.
He was acquainted with a rich
vulgar young man, of the name of Muggins,
who had endeavoured at intimacy
with George, and been neglected by him.
His father had acquired an enormous fortune
in trade, to which was added the
extensive property bequeathed by a relation
who had been successful in India.
Muggins had scarcely received any
education, and associated with none but
low people, the influx of wealth and the splendid E8v 88
splendid property in the East Indies
having occurred after he was grown up
to manhood. Knowing that my brother
was the son of a lord, his attentions to
him were overpowering, as he had a
great deference for persons of rank, from
recollecting the lowness of his origin.
The idea, therefore, suddenly suggested
itself to George, to borrow a large sum
of money of Mr. Muggins, and promise
to repay it at some future period, or else
procure him the hand of his sister in
marriage, which, from his ambition to
be allied to rank, he was convinced
would make him enraptured at such a
proposal. In consequence of this scheme,
my brother gave so fascinating a description
of my beauty, accomplishments, and
sweetness of temper, that the foolish
young man became quite enamoured of
the favourable portrait he drew, without
having seen the original, and complied
with every request his pretended friend
made.
"George E9r 89 George then studied to improve his
manners and language, and succeeded in
rendering him decently behaved, and
his ignorance unsuspected while he remained
quiet and said little. He now
introduced his hero, hoping success from
my youth and inexperience, as the young
man possessed a handsome exterior.
Not the most trifling remorse did my
brother feel at the thought of consigning
me to the arms of an ignorant vulgar
young man, rather deficient in intellect,
though his heart was naturally inclined
to rectitude. My father and mother
easily discerned, through the flimsy
veil of attempted good-breeding, which
sat very awkwardly on poor Muggins,
that he had been accustomed to inferior
society; many incorrect and mean expressions
betrayed him when he spoke
with the least energy. They were astonished
at their son’s selecting such an
associate, and pointed out to him that a
companion of this description was not respectable, E9v 90
respectable, with whom he could never
obtain improvement or pleasure.
In answer to these observations,
George represented that Mr. Muggins
had the best heart in the world—had
been serviceable to him when abroad,
and shewn him great civility, which
made him anxious to evince his gratitude.
‘A motive so laudable I perfectly admire,’
replied my father, ‘and am pleased
that grateful sentiments should influence
your conduct; yet it is not necessary
to be constantly with Mr. Muggins,
or to obtrude him so frequently on us.’
George promised he should be less
intrusive: but whenever I walked out
with my governess, he was continually
on the watch, and waiting to attend me
with Mr. Muggins, and seized every opportunity,
when I was alone, of introducing
him. My brother depended on my
good-nature to conceal these interviews
from my father, as I was present when lord E10r 91
lord Treharne expressed his disapprobation
of his frequent visits. Mr. Muggins
soon became a decided invader of my
peace, and pestered me almost daily with
letters, in which he declared his passion
and offered his hand.
Finding I did not notice his proposal,
he eagerly declared himself the first
moment we were alone, and requested
my acceptance of his heart and fortune.
To this offer I gave a determined negative,
as I was early disgusted with his understanding
and manners, so opposite to
what I had been accustomed to from infancy.
Muggins appeared almost petrified
at my resolute rejection of him,
and exclaimed—‘Then Mr. Treharne
has completely deceived me! I should
not have presumed to declare my attachment,
had he not repeatedly protested
and sworn you were disposed to accept
me.’
‘I cannot imagine,’ I replied, ‘what
could have been my brother’s inducementment E10v 92
to advance this unfounded falsehood
—he who was taught from his earliest
recollection how wrong it is to deviate
from truth.’
‘Though I have little discernment,’
rejoined Muggins, ‘yet I can easily
guess the reason of this behaviour, and
shall come to an explanation with him.
In the meanwhile, I beg your pardon,
Miss Treharne, for being troublesome.’
‘Do not go, I entreat, Mr. Muggins,’
I instantly exclaimed, ‘till you have
informed me what you suspect to be the
cause of my brother’s conduct;’
and with
great difficulty I at length drew from
him the whole story.
Afflicted at the knowledge of my brother’s
deception, and the effect it would
have on my father and mother’s peace,
if they knew it, I implored Muggins to
conceal what had happened, and, after
some opposition, obtained his promise.
Obliged, for the first time in my life, to
have a concealment, I felt melancholy and E11r 93
and uncomfortable, which I was obliged
to disguise, that my dear parents might
not suspect any thing had happened to
vex me. How much did I compassionate
them for having a son so unworthy!
In the evening, when I was dressing
with a heavy heart for the opera,
George tapped at the door, and said he
wished to speak to me alone, and would
wait for me in the library. I hastened to
finish my dress, that I might attend him,
and found him anxiously waiting for me.
I was surprised at the mild tone of
voice in which he spoke, and said he was
sorry I would not accept the hand of
Muggins, as he was passionately fond
of me, and, with his immense riches,
might make me the happiest of women
‘You could then, Caroline,’ he artfully
added, ‘indulge those benevolent
feelings inherent in your nature, and
make your brother truly happy. Probably
you may object that he was not
born a gentleman; but reflect, that in England E11v 94
England wealth is idolized, and that
you are respected by the generality of
people according to the strength of your
purse. Make but a splendid appearance
and keep a good table, and you
may be assured of associating with the
best society, were you even the offspring
of a chimney-sweeper.’
‘This may all be very true,’ I replied,
‘and I am concerned to disappoint your
wishes, which it is impossible for me to
comply with. I could not love or respect
Mr. Muggins, and this is not consistent
with my ideas of marriage. I
wish to tenderly esteem the man to
whom I give my hand, and to consider
him as superior to myself in sense and
experience, that I may be guided by his
better judgment.’
‘What romantic stuff!’ he loudly exclaimed
‘what ridiculous sentiments!
You do indeed require somebody to
direct you. These ideas will not be proper
for the world; I advise you to retire to E12r 95
to a convent, or a desert. I could say
with Hamlet, “Hie thee to a nunnery!”
You will most likely not have such an
excellent offer again, of possessing unequalled
wealth, and a good-looking man
you may manage, but remain the rest of
your life a beggarly girl, and end with
being a poverty-struck old maid of fashion.
Don’t flatter yourself that men
are eager to marry a baby face, without
some substantial addition to it.’
With these words, uttered with an
air of rage and contempt, he abruptly
left the room. In his countenance every
unworthy passion was depicted, and I
was overwhelmed with inexpressible affliction
at his worthless conduct and opinions,
as I could not, from the ties of
nature, avoid being interested for him,
with all his errors. Yet my affection was
not sufficiently strong to render me
guilty of the weakness of sacrificing
myself to Mr. Muggins. Independent
of my aversion to him, I must acknowledgeledge E12v 96
that I entertained at that period a
growing attachment for your father,
whose goodness of character, bravery,
fortune, and family, added to a fine person,
were then unexceptionable.
He was at that time a major in the
guards, and esteemed and admired by
lord and lady Treharne, and of their approbation
of my attachment I was certain.
Ever since my brother’s return to
his native country, major Douglas had
been on a visit to his elder brother in
Scotland, and George had no suspicion
of my admiration and regard.
While we were thus situated, George,
who, notwithstanding my positive rejection
of Muggins, still persevered in endeavouring
to make him acceptable to
me, brought him one day to dinner.
A nobleman who chanced to be present
was so attentive, and evinced such refined
and marked politeness and homage
for me, that Mr. Muggins, who unhappily
really loved me, was worked up with F1r 97
with jealousy to a degree of frenzy. I
was informed that he drank an usual
quantity of wine after the ladies retired,
which had a more pernicious effect, from
being very temperate in general. To
the extreme confusion of George, he began
quarrelling with him, and, during
their dispute, disclosed the transaction
that had passed, and George’s base behaviour,
to the company and my afflicted
and astonished father.
Delicate to excess in every point
that concerned his honour or his children’s,
this unwelcome intelligence pressed
heavily on lord Treharne’s mind. He
was in consequence seized with a dangerous
illness, that terminated in a raging
fever.
From the circumstances that had
taken place, my brother’s affairs became
known, as well as his ingratitude to a
parent so worthy of dutiful love; and his
creditors coming forward, threw him into Vol. I. F prison, F1v 98
prison, indignant at his want of probity
and duty.
When lord Treharne recovered from
the violence of the fever, with a sense
of honour too refined he paid all the
debts George had contracted, with the
fortune his frugality had saved and destined
for me, hoping to be again enabled
to save part of his yearly income, to replace
my little property. But his constitution
was so enfeebled by the fever,
caused by the shock it had sustained at
discovering my brother’s wickedness,
that he gradually grew weaker and
weaker, and was soon pronounced to be
in a rapid decline.
The tender attention of lady Treharne
to a husband she loved with uncommon
tenderness is impossible to be
described with justice. She passed her
nights without sleeping, watching by
his bedside, and never quitted him, unless
to procure any thing he wished. The F2r 99
The pain she felt at seeing him suffer
imparted so much anguish, that her
health was materially injured, and threatened
her own speedy dissolution.
At length his sufferings became less
acute, and calmly did he close his virtuous
life. His last moments were only
embittered with regret at quitting the
world unable to provide more liberally for
my mother and myself: yet it was consoling
to his feelings, that, while lady
Treharne
lived, his jointure would amply
provide for us both.
He little thought that her sensibility
and affection would prevent me
from long enjoying the comfort of a mother’s
love. With difficulty they succeeded
in persuading her to quit his
breathless form, where she mourned over
him who was dearest to her on earth,
with all the agony of an affectionate
heart; and, had she lived, would have
dedicated her future years to his memory.
F2 "Thus F2v 100 Thus was I cruelly deprived, by a
brother’s corrupt principles, of the best
of fathers, and my mother of a husband
she loved, and who was deserving of her
regard. The conflict was too severe, and,
six weeks after lord Treharne’s decease,
she followed him to that peaceful grave,
where sorrow cannot afflict the good, or
insult reach them, leaving me a miserable
and deserted orphan.
Subdued with keenest anguish for
their loss, I was insensible, for a long
time, to any thought of my future destiny.
My brother, on the contrary, was
remorseless, and only regretted that his
extravagance had prevented them from
bequeathing him any ready money, and
that by their death he inherited the family
estates only. My mother had been
so good as to sell her jewels, to gratify
his profusion when he went on his travels;
yet he even seemed to envy my
possessing this old mansion, with the
gardens and fields.
"This F3r 101 This was all the property my father
could bequeath me, and a hundred
pounds in money, as the estate belonging
to Treharne Hall not being entailed,
it had been disposed of at the commencement
of George’s irregularity and
superfluous expence. My father on his
deathbed, and my mother, during the
last struggle of expiring nature, recommended
me to their son’s protection.
They were consequently relieved in their
minds respecting my fate, as they hoped
such a solemn charge, made at a moment
so awful, would be held sacred,
fondly indulging the hope that he might
repent his evil disposition, and reform.
For a short time after the decease
of my mother, whom I lamented and
wept for till my health was endangered,
George behaved tolerably well, but
when I began to recover, he again introduced
Muggins, for a reconciliation had
taken place, as he could not relinquish
further designs on his wealth. Finding F3 I persevered F3v 102
I persevered in rejecting his renewed addresses,
which the knowledge of my poverty
and dependence encouraged him
to repeat, my brother was so enraged,
that he commanded me, in the most savage
tone, to quit the house in a few
days.
I endeavoured to support the cruelty
of this inhuman relation with courage,
as such treatment was undeserved; but
all my efforts could not suppress the
tears of bitter sorrow that involuntarily
flowed. At this critical moment, your
father, who had unexpectedly arrived
from Scotland, was announced: he had
heard of my loss, and was impatient to
see me, being warmly interested in what
related to my future destiny.
He was much agitated at seeing me
thus mournfully engaged; though I
quickly dried my tears, yet the recent
traces of them were too visible. Humane
as he was brave, he soothed me
with unequalled tenderness, and, stranger for F4r 103
for some time to the voice of sympathy
and kindness, I frankly confided to him
every thing that had passed since our
last meeting. The instant he was in
possession of my real situation, with the
most unexampled honour and generosity
he made me an offer of himself. He
avowed that he had long loved me,
but having lessened his fortune by
imprudently lending different sums of
money, it had prevented him from
making proposals before; but now that
I required a real friend and an asylum,
he waved all objections, and if I
would deign to accept so poor a man,
he should feel the most enviable of human
beings, and by his attention and ardent
affection would exert himself to
soften my sorrows, and heal my wounded
mind.
Charmed with the nobleness of his
character, his goodness and liberality, I
could not articulate for some minutes,
during which period his countenance F4 betrayed F4v 104
betrayed strong emotion: but when I
assured him that I accepted him with
gratitude, and that an union with him
would secure my happiness, he looked
animated and pleased. He would have
spoken to George directly, as he had too
much proper spirit to fear him; but I
would not subject him to his insolence,
and packing up my clothes, left my brother’s
residence in a hackney-coach, and
repaired to the house of the lady who
had been my governess, and was much
attached to me.
There I remained till I had the felicity
of being united to your father, and our
marriage took place about a week after
I left my brother’s protection. His rage,
I was informed, was quite ungovernable,
when he found I was gone without
yielding to his wish to unite me to
Muggins, for he weakly imagined to
terrify me into compliance.
With your father I have experienced
the most perfect happiness, and he never caused F5r 105
caused me any uneasiness but the fear
of losing him. Of my brother, lord
Treharne
, I have not had any intelligence,
except that he exists, for seven
or eight years. Before that time I understood
that, conformable to his principles,
he married, soon after I quitted
him, a very rich citizen’s daughter he
despised, for the advantage of her wealth.
Of course, they live wretchedly together,
as his vile temper made her life, as
well as his own, miserable.
And now, my dear children, you
are acquainted with the cause of my frequent
dejection. Can I be otherwise
than melancholy, when the recollection
of those excellent parents, and their unmerited
sufferings, calls forth the tear of
deep regret? My only consolation is
the remembrance of their distinguished
and amiable virtues. May this narrative
excite you to emulate their excellence, and
the example of your uncle be a warning
to you, never to neglect the advice of F5 those F5v 106
those older and wiser than yourselves;
as, by contemning their admonitions,
George became, painful is it to relate,
the destroyer of his father and mother—
not, indeed, by unlawful murder, which
would have been mercy, but by a lingering
death of sorrow, inflicted by the
conduct of a child they tenderly loved.
I hope it will instruct Jane to correct
the violence of her passions, which I
have often shuddered to find so strongly
resembling her uncle’s disposition. He
was unhappy himself, and disturbed the
peace of all who had the misfortune to
be connected with him. ”

Jane did not receive this gentle reproof
with good-humour, but sullenness.
She arose to quit the room, saying, with
a pouting face—“I am not more ill-tempered
than others; but it is easy to see
who are the favourites, and whatever
they do is thought right.”

Felix and Rose looked at her with
concern, and Mrs. Douglas with a sigh ordered F6r 107
ordered her to remain, and thus addressed
her perverse daughter—“I am
truly shocked, Jane, at your indulging
so envious a propensity, and suspecting
me of having favourites, when
you are all equally dear. Behave as
well as your brother and sister, and you
will find yourself as much admired and
valued as they are; for you cannot expect,
if you are rude and ill-natured, to
be esteemed and loved in the same
degree as those who are polite and
good. It is for your own comfort that
I wish you to be of a pleasing, pliant
character. Should you continue to neglect
the disinterested counsel of an affectionate
mother, and feel unhappy
with misery of your own creating, when
probably I no longer exist, you will bitterly
lament having slighted my instruction.”

“Do tell my mother,” exclaimed Felix,
“that you will endeavour to make
her happy by attending to her precepts, F6 and F6v 108
and correcting your faults. When you
have just learnt what she has so undeservedly
suffered, you ought to exert
yourself to ameliorate, instead of adding
to her sorrows.”

“My mother is quite sufficient to admonish
me, sir; I do not wish for a monitor
in you—you are too young for
that office;”
and she laughed impertinently
at him, and then ran out of the
room.

“I am sorry to find you incorrigible,”
replied Felix, as she left them; and Rose
and himself endeavoured to divert their
mother’s mind from dwelling on the untractable
violent disposition of their sister.

Felix was sincerely affected with the recital
of his mother’s unfortunate destiny
before her union with general Douglas;
and tears suffused the eyes of Rose, when
Mrs. Douglas described the melancholy
death of lord and lady Treharne.

At night, when she retired to rest, she could F7r 109
could not, as usual, fall asleep directly,
from the different reflections that obtruded
involuntarily. Jane, who slept in
the same apartment, in a separate bed,
was in a sound slumber, when Miss
Douglas
was disturbed from thinking of
what had past, by distinct whispering at
the chamber-door. The stairs were close
to it, and after a few minutes, she heard
footsteps softly descending the staircase,
which surprised and attracted her attention.
The house-clock at that moment
struck two, and she was startled at hearing
any one up so late, as the whole family
usually retired to rest before midnight,
unless they had visitors.

The low sound of voices, and of passing
footsteps, ceased, and in a quarter of
an hour all was still and silent. Rose
felt an uneasy sensation, and unable to
compose herself to rest, she got out of
bed, and looked from the window, as the
moon shone bright and clear. It disclosed
to her a sight which she judged was F7v 110
was uncommon, in that retired spot.—
About ten or twelve horses were waiting
on the opposite side of the river,
with four men seated near them, on the
bank. In a few minutes they were joined
by eight others, and mounting in
great haste, they all rode off towards the
sea-coast.

Of this appearance she was perplexed
what to think. Sometimes she fancied
the horsemen were robbers, or smugglers,
and had some relation with the voices
and footsteps she had heard on the staircase.
Whatever might be the event,
she felt alarmed and agitated, and observing
the precaution of bolting the door,
which had hitherto been neglected, she
once more sought her restless pillow,
and, notwithstanding all her apprehensions,
repose soon visited her, from having
watched so long.

In the morning she acquainted Felix
with what had passed, and did not tell
Jane till she had consulted him, as she was F8r 111
was very fond of tattling, and would
mention it, she was fearful, to every one.

Felix commended her prudence, and
advised her to conceal what she had heard
and seen, only confiding in him. It was
reported, he said, that Treharne Hall
was haunted by the spirits of their maternal
grandfather and grandmother, who
could not rest in their graves on account
of their wicked son. Felix added, that
neither his father or mother, he was convinced,
would like to hear of the Hall
being haunted, as it would revive the
memory of scenes they wished to forget.
It might possibly have been Kamira and
Dolly, who had remained up longer than
usual, to do some particular work, and
had conversed in a whisper as they went
to their room, which was an upper one,
exactly above where Rose and Jane
slept. Should they mention to the general
or Mrs. Douglas her conjecture of
their being thieves or smugglers, it
would alarm, and, he thought, inconveniencenience F8v 112
them unnecessarily. The part of
the building where he and his sisters
slept was at a great distance from the
wing his parents occupied, which had no
habitable bedchamber except their own,
and it would be troublesome and expensive
to refurnish them. Felix entreated
her, if she should hear the sounds repeated,
to awaken him, as he slept in the
adjoining room, and dismiss all uneasiness
from her mind, as he was of opinion
there was no real cause for anxiety.

Dame Brownson came in the afternoon,
in consequence of an invitation she
had received to pass the day at Treharne.
Mrs. Douglas was much affected at seeing
the good old woman, whose tears
flowed at beholding her.

“Ah, my dear lady,” said she, in a
tremulous voice, “this is an unhoped-for
happiness, to feast my eyes once more
on the child of my beloved master and
mistress. I was told you were gone
away, far beyond the seas, many thousandssands F9r 113
of miles off, and never expected to
meet you again. It glads my heart to
see you returned with such a fine family.”

Mrs. Douglas made a kind reply, and
did all in her power to make the dame
pass a pleasant comfortable day, as comfort
is the highest enjoyment for any
person advanced in age.

In the afternoon, when dame Brownson
was in the housekeeper’s-room, with
Dolly and Kamira, Rose and Jane went
to chat with her, Felix being gone out
with the general. It was a stormy evening,
and though the Hall was three miles
from the sea, you could hear its distant
roaring.

“I am glad you do not live close to
the sea-side,”
cried the dame, “as they
say there is a gentleman and lady seen
and heard there, at Westpool (which is
the nearest part of the sea-coast), when
the waves are rough, and we are going
to have a storm. Lord William, the
gentleman, was in love with a young orphan F9v 114
orphan lady, whom he followed about
whereever she went, and would not let
her rest, trying all he could to gain her
love, and promising her marriage. But
this he never intended, thinking it was
an honour enough for him to notice her
as a mistress, as he was a great lord, and
she a poor young lady, without a farthing.
At length, with a great deal of
persuasion, she ran away with him; and
after a few weeks, he picked a quarrel
with her, and left her without a penny to
help herself with. The loss of him she
truly loved afflicted her more than being
in want, and in a fit of crazy madness
she flung herself into the sea, from a rock
at Westpool. But the vengeance of God,
who punishes those that ill use the innocent,
soon overtook him. He was thrown
from his horse, a few days after her untimely
end, and dragged by the stirrup
to so great a distance, that his body was
horribly mangled, and his face smashed
all to pieces, that not a feature could be known; F10r 115
known; and his ghost has been often
seen with that shocking face. Don’t
you remember the ballad about it, Dolly?”

“Only a line or two, I believe, aunt.”

“I think, if you try, my dear, you’ll
call it to mind, perhaps a whole verse—
but sing what you can, to please the
young ladies.”

“Lord William flung him at her feet, And bonny blink’d his eye— ‘No other maid shall be my bride, No other make me sigh. Oh, I will place within my breast Thy brown and silken hair; No courtly dame, in cloth of gold, Is like my Ellen fair.’”

“Very well, Dolly; so that’s all you
can remember? well, it’s enough to shew
how false-hearted some men are, whether
gentle or simple, and untrue to young
women, if ever so good and handsome,
if they have no fortune, like poor Miss Ellen, F10v 116
Ellen
, in Dolly’s song. Howsomdever,
lord William suffered for it, in this
world and the next. He was ordained,
as a punishment, I have heard say, to
bind the sand of the sea with ropes, and
empty it with a cockle-shell, which he
can never do; therefore he is doomed
eternally to be working hard at what he
can never finish. In stormy weather he
is often heard, calling out, in a hollow
voice—‘Give me some more rope! give
me a bigger shell!’
I never distinctly
heard those words, but when the tempest
has been very high, I have fancied
I have heard something like it, when the
storm loudly roared.”

Here dame Brownson ceased relating
the history of the ill-fated Ellen.

“What a shocking story, Mrs. Brownson!”
Jane observed. “I should not like
to see lord William, with his ugly face,
as hideous as his disposition was.”

“You need not fear him, Miss Jane,
when you know yourself to be good: an F11r 117
an evil spirit is not allowed to hurt the
innocent; and I assure you, Miss, I am
more afraid of the living than the dead.”

“Now, aunt, for the other story of the
lady!”
exclaimed Dolly.

“I hope she is not so wicked as lord
William
,”
said Rose; “I wish to hear
of somebody that is good; it makes me
dull to hear only of worthless people.”

“Oh, Miss Rose, there are seldom any
stories to divert about them, as they
never injure any body, and generally
rest in their graves, unless they come to
do good. But, dearee me! what is that
lad about on the other side of the river?”

They all looked, and were much interested
at seeing a youth, apparently
about sixteen, in a clean but faded green
and black livery, washing a pair of stockings
in the river. He then hung the
stockings on a bush to dry, and taking
the white neckcloth from his neck, washed
it also. After washing it, he held it
himself, to dry in the wind and sun, turning F11v 118
turning it first one way and then the
other, as the wind blew, to dry it the
faster.

Wholly occupied in his cleanly employment,
he anxiously pursued it without
attending to any thing that passed,
though many persons happened to walk
that way at the time, and looked at him
with curiosity and surprise. His face
was pale, but his shirt as white as snow,
which he had undoubtedly washed in a
pond, stream, or river.

Rose observed to dame Brownson,
that she should like to ask the poor
young man in, that he might dry his
clothes at the kitchen fire, as his uncommon
cleanliness interested her exceedingly.

A word was sufficient for the warmhearted
Kamira, who, on hearing this,
beckoned to him, and going to the riverside,
got into the boat, and soon ferried
him over, with his wet stockings and
neckcloth.

The F12r 119

The story he told was simple and pathetic.
His young master, with whom he
lived, and was attached to, having died
suddenly, he was returning on foot to
see his friends in Cornwall, who were respectable
farmers, when he was overtaken
in a lonely road by a gang of robbers,
who robbed him of all his money
and clothes, except what he had on, and
would even have stripped him of them,
had not a sudden noise disturbed, and
caused them to run off in haste.

The general, on hearing this account,
suffered him to remain all night at the
Hall, gave him a change of linen, and
money sufficient to convey him with
comfort to his friends.

On his arrival at his home, he wrote a
grateful and respectful letter to general
Douglas
, desiring his and his friends’
duty and good wishes to himself, his
lady, and children.

The general and family felt much
pleased with this instance of humble gratitude,titude, F12v 120
as rare as it is valuable, and is an
encouragement to a benevolent mind to
continue its active goodness.

Chapter IV.

“Here youth’s free spirit, innocently gay, Enjoy’d the most that innocence can give; Those wholesome sweets that border virtue’s way, Those cooling fruits, that we may taste and live.” Shenstone.

Time passed imperceptibly away, and
four years had elapsed since the Douglas
family were established at Treharne.
Felix was the only one of the family
who had quitted it for a longer period
than a week. The loss of his society
was acutely felt by them all, but most
severely by Rose, as he was her constant
companion in walking and riding; and
being fond of reading, like herself, he would G1r 121
would often read entertaining books to
her, while she worked, or amused herself
in drawing or painting.

An ensign’s commission had been presented
to him by a friend of the general’s,
and it was nearly two years since they
had seen him. He was, however, expected
home in the course of six months
having been, the greater part of that period
of his absence, with his regiment in
Ireland.

Rose looked forward with delight to
the prospect of her brother’s return, being
more ardently attached to him than
Jane, who was too selfish a character
to be capable of any warmth of regard,
though a stranger would have supposed
otherwise, from her vivacity and passionate
temper.

Rose and Felix were united with the
truest fraternal affection, as their minds
were similar, though Felix was more
lively than his sister. He only wished
to be fortunate in life, that he might be Vol. I. G useful G1v 122
useful and of advantage to his family.
To shield Rose from the frowns of fortune
was his highest wish, as her timid
gentle nature ill calculated her to encounter
them; and for the vain and confident
Jane he felt less uneasiness.

According to her brother’s advice,
Rose never divulged the noises and
voices she had heard, though at intervals
the same sounds continued to occur
again; yet as nothing disagreeable or of
moment was the consequence, it ceased
to make her uneasy. Sometimes the
voices were louder, and the noises more
strange and alarming. Had she been inclined
to superstition, she might have
conjectured these sounds proceeded from
a supernatural being, as she had exerted
herself to ascertain if Kamira, Dolly, or
Robin, occasioned at any time these extraordinary
noises.

Rose Douglas loved her sister with
the tenderest affection, and it often cruelly
wounded her that it was returned with G2r 123
with indifference, and that she would
not bend her inclinations to please any
one, unless it was agreeable to her own
desires. Of her mother’s indulgent disposition
she took advantage, and was
never obedient to any one but her father,
of whom she stood in great awe.
Yet, when disposed to please, she could
be most engaging; but rarely took that
trouble of making herself pleasing, except
to strangers, who were generally
charmed with her on their first acquaintance,
though they frequently discovered
her character when they became familiar—
Jane did not think it worth while to
conciliate her relations, and it was sufficient
for them to ask any favour for her
to be unwilling to comply.

At the close of an autumnal evening,
she was returning with her sister from a
visit to dame Brownson, who had been
very ill, when a storm that had been
lowering burst forth tremendously. Torrents
of rain poured down, the vivid G2 lightning G2v 124
lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled
loud and heavily. They were near
a cottage, which was neatly white-washed,
and superior in appearance to those
of the villagers. They had remarked,
as they passed on their way to the dame’s,
that the cottage must have a new inhabitant,
as it was so much improved since
they visited Mrs. Brownson three months
since.

The storm increased most violently,
and the rain and hail fell so fast, that it
was no time for ceremony, and they
hastened to the cottage, and loudly
knocked at the door. A black girl
opened it, and a short fat woman, genteelly
dressed, came forward, and begged
them, with great civility, to enter.
Gladly they consented; and when they
walked into the passage, the rain dropped
from their dresses, and streamed on
the floor.

The lady politely insisted on their
changing their shoes and dress, and accommodated G3r 125
accommodated them with her habiliments
while theirs were being dried.
With great good-nature she likewise
offered them a bed, should the tempest
continue, as the general did not keep a
carriage, and none nearer than Exeter
was to be procured.

The storm continued to rage with
unabated violence till two hours after it
was dark. At length its fury lessened
—the warring elements were calmed,
and it quite cleared up.

They made many grateful acknowledgements
to Mrs. Pryce, the widow
lady, for her friendly attention and
hospitality, and returned to Treharne,
accompanied by Sophia, the black girl,
to whom they made a present for her
trouble.

They found the general and Mrs.
Douglas
much alarmed at their not having
returned home for so many hours.
Robin and Dolly had been dispatched
in search of them, and brought back the G3 unpleasant G3v 126
unpleasant intelligence that they had left
the mill several hours; but they quieted
their apprehensions with the hope that
they had taken shelter somewhere.

With the kindness Mrs. Pryce had
evinced to their children they were much
pleased. They described her as having
the remains of a very handsome face,
with a diminutive fat person. Her conversation
was suitable to a woman who
had received a very superior education,
and whose mind had been highly cultivated.
Extremely lively and eccentric,
she was of that character that was certain
of pleasing two young people who
knew nothing of the world, and had never
seen any one like her. She laughed immoderately,
and would repeat scraps of
poetry in the most theatrical style, which
was quite a novelty to them.

The following day was remarkably
fine, and Mrs. Douglas desired them to
call upon Mrs. Pryce, with her compliments
and a basket of excellent grapes, which G4r 127
which Kamira was to carry, as their
mother understood from Jane that Mrs.
Pryce
had four children, two of whom
were very young, and she concluded
the fruit would be very acceptable for
them.

When they entered the cottage-garden
in front of Mrs. Pryce’s residence,
which opened with a wicket-gate, they
heard a most discordant noise, that
sounded as if some person was scolding
furiously. They tapped at the door;
but the harsh sounds within prevented
their being attended to, and gently lifting
the latch, they walked in, and found
Mrs. Pryce in the passage, with a stick
in her hand, beating the black girl.

The girl was crouched on her knees
before her, crying, while she loaded her
with the most opprobrious names; yet
no sooner did she perceive the young
ladies and their attendant, than she
ceased her clamour, and welcomed them
with an affected smile of good-humour, G4 while G4v 128
while the poor girl silently made her
retreat.

Kamira had not been accustomed to
such scenes at the general’s, and could
hardly restrain her indignation. She
would, with her natural warmth of temper
and frankness, have declared her
anger at this barbarous sight, had not
Rose looked expressively at her. This
alone prevented her from mentioning
her abhorrence of such inhuman behaviour,
which was peculiarly revolting in
a female who had any pretensions to the
character of a gentlewoman, and whose
education should have made her more
refined.

Mrs. Pryce insisted that the young
ladies, if they had no engagement, should
pass the day with her, to which Jane
gladly assented, saying they had none,
as most of their acquaintance in the
country were absent—some in London,
and at different places.

Rose did not like to remain a whole day G5r 129
day with her, as she was a stranger, and
the specimen she had just witnessed of
Mrs. Pryce’s inhumanity had made an unfavourable
impression: but when Rose
found that Jane was determined to stay,
she consented to be with her, as she did
not like to leave her there by herself.
She sent a message by Kamira to her
mother, and cautioned the Indian not to
repeat what she had seen of Mrs. Pryce’s
behaviour.

Kamira was attached to all the family,
but more particularly to Rose; and as
she never failed to obey her most trifling
commands, she was pleased when the
Indian promised to attend to her wishes.

The conversation, after Kamira left
them, was chiefly supported by Jane
and Mrs. Pryce, while Rose amused
herself in playing with the children, to
whom she had begged to be introduced.
Had they been kept clean, and well fed,
they would have been handsome and
healthy; but they appeared to be (what G5 they G5v 130
they really were) neglected in their dress,
cleanliness, and food. They were delighted
at the novely of seeing two good-
natured young strangers, as Mrs. Pryce
had rarely any visitors, and were continually
coming into the room, though
forbidden by their mother, after they
had played an hour with Miss Douglas.

Mrs. Pryce placed a stick by her side
to chastise them, and when they attempted
to enter, the little fat woman
waddled after them in a rage, and inflicted
corporal chastisement. Accustomed
daily to this correction, it did not prevent
them from repeating their fault;
and Mrs. Pryce and her companions
were constantly interrupted with scolding,
crying, and squalling.

Rose interfered several times in their
behalf to no purpose, as she thought it
hardened them; and Jane, on the contrary,
encouraged Mrs. Pryce to punish
them (as it was a diversion for her), and
told her she was perfectly right to keep such G6r 131
such troublesome children in proper
order.

Sophia received her share of the stick,
if she did not fly the moment she was
called (as there was no bell at the cottage);
and Miss Douglas’s head quite
ached to hear “Sophia! Sophia!” bawled
out every quarter of an hour, in addition
to her screams, and the children’s
cries.

About an hour before dinner, Mrs.
Pryce
left them to dress herself, as she
styled it, which was very necessary, as
she was exceedingly dirty, which they
had not observed when they took shelter
from the storm at her cottage, as it
was nearly dark then. Her skin had
the appearance of not having been washed
for a long time; and her hair, naturally
a pretty colour, was disguised with
dirt and grease.

The eldest daughter was named Angelica;
and when her mother had retired
to arrange herself, Rose and Jane G6 were G6v 132
were astonished and diverted to hear
Mrs. Pryce exclaim, in a voice of thunder
“Sophia! Sophia! bring me my
rouge-pot.”

Sophia could not find it; and after
striking her two or three blows, Mrs.
Pryce
again thundered forth—“Angelica!
Angelica! where is my rouge-
pot? You ought to know, Angelica,
where my rouge-pot is.”

The child answered—“Indeed, dear
mamma, I do not know where it is, but
I will look, dear mamma.”

“Go then!—Fly!”

Angelica and the rest of these children
were all taught to say “dear mamma,”
at every word, which sounded
quite absurd, and was an affectation of
affection.

After the tumult had subsided, and
she had gained the object of her wishes,
Mrs. Pryce appeared with a clean face
and hands, that had been long unwashed
till now, and the lost rouge-pot in one G7r 133
one hand. She began applying its contents
before them, to her cheeks, chin,
and even to her nose, which gave her a
very ruddy appearance, and would have
deceived any one, so natural did this
bloom appear.

“How much it resembles nature!”
exclaimed Rose, unthinkingly.

“You think so, do you?—does it
not? I suppose you put on yours in
the same manner? But you have rather
too much carmine on your cheeks.”

Rose blushed, and said she never wore
any.

“Come, don’t be so sly. How artful
you are! I won’t believe such nonsense.
Every body wears it, even men.”

Miss Douglas did not think it worth
while to answer this ridiculous and
unfounded assertion; and Sophia came
in that moment to announce that the
dinner was ready to be served up.

Mrs. Pryce withdrew to superintend
it, and they heard her in the kitchen loudly G7v 134
loudly vociferating, and abusing Sophia
because there was not a clean tablecloth
for dinner.

Sophia excused herself by saying—
“You know, ma’am, we have but one
tablecloth, and that is soiled.”

“Begone then, wretch, and bring me
a clean sheet—that will do.”

At hearing this, Rose and Jane could
with difficulty restrain themselves from
laughing when she returned.

The sheet was brought in, and an excellent
and expensive dinner placed on
it, with a great deal of wine and ale.
The poor children were allowed to be
present, and eagerly looked at them
when they were eating, but were not
suffered to taste any of the good things,
which made Rose quite unhappy; and
she petitioned for them to have at least
some of the tart or pudding. But the
hard-hearted greedy Mrs. Pryce refused,
while she feasted and eagerly devoured
the best on the table.

When G8r 135

When they had dined, the children
were sent into the kitchen with Sophia,
to a meal of potatoes and fat, mixed together,
which their mother said was
better for their health than any other
nourishment.

After dinner, Mrs. Pryce, who had
drank a great deal of ale and wine, threw
herself on the sofa, where she fell fast
asleep, and snored loudly.

The black girl went up stairs to arrange
the bed-rooms; and the children
having no one to take care of or reprimand
them, ran into the garden, and
amused themselves with doing a great
deal of mischief.

Rose entertained herself with a book,
and Jane in playing with a little pugdog,
that knew a variety of tricks.

When Mrs. Pryce awoke from her
slumbers, she instantly began calling in
a harsh voice for Sophia.—“Sophia!
Sophia!”
resounded through the cottage;tage; G8v 136
but no Sophia answered to her
call.

The sisters assisted Mrs. Pryce in
searching all over her little habitation
for the unfortunate black girl, and at
length discovered her stretched fast
asleep on one of the children’s beds,
overcome with fatigue and ill-usage.
She was going to make the bed, when
she sunk on it exhausted.

“Oh, the black lazy monster!” exclaimed
Mrs. Pryce, giving her at the
same time several severe boxes on the
ear, which at length roused the poor
creature.

“Don’t beat me, mistress!” she cried
out, in a piteous tone: “you keep me up
all night, which makes me sleep in the
day.”

“It is excusable then your sleeping
now,”
observed Rose, hoping to soften
Mrs. Pryce in her favour.

“You stupid sleepy-headed beast! how dare G9r 137
dare you tell such a falsity? I never
sit up later than three in the morning,
and get up again at six. Too much
sleep is not good for any one.”

“I should not like then to be your
constant companion,”
rejoined Rose, “for
I do not wish to be up later than eleven,
unless it is at a ball, or with very agreeable
company.”

“Hours were made for slaves,” ejaculated
Mrs. Pryce, in an elevated voice;
“I am for ‘the feast of reason and the
flow of soul,’
which cannot be enjoyed
except late at night. But where are my
children, thou female Mungo? Grin
now, and shew your white teeth.—Has
she not got fine teeth, and fine eyes?”

And as she pronounced these words,
“Mrs. Pryce” smiled, and seemed in a moment
to have recovered her good-humour,
which made Rose think she was
deranged, as such inconsistency appeared
like it.

The children being summoned by Sophia,phia, G9v 138
appeared with their faces covered
with dirt, and their frocks torn in many
places: but their mother was now seized
with a fit of such good-nature, that she
did not attend to their tattered appearance,
which would have produced, at
any other time, a severe chastisement
with the stick.

Tea was now introduced; and while
they were partaking of it, the youngest
child, about two years and a half old,
who could hardly speak, ran into the parlour,
screaming—“Grueller, grueller!”

“What does he mean?” asked Jane.

“He wishes for the gruel Sophia is
making for his and his brother and sisters’
supper”
, replied Mrs. Pryce. “Sophia,
bring the gruel.”

At this well-known summons, the
black girl enters with a large pot of
thick gruel, but the most dirty ill-made
mess they had ever seen. Poor little
Tommy was so hungry that he cried
and stamped for it as if it had been the most G10r 139
most savoury food, and continued calling
out “Grueller!” till a bason full
was given to him; and he was then
ready to cry for joy. They all seemed
glad of their supper, as well as little
Tommy, having had but a scanty meal
of potatoes and fat.

Rose was quite relieved when they
began their walk to return home, and
expressed her dislike of Mrs. Pryce’s
conduct and disposition to her sister,
observing, that the only excuse she could
make for her was, that she must be
mad. If she was not, she really was
afraid she was a very wicked woman,
from her cruel treatment of Sophia, and
severity and injustice to her children.—“I
do not think,”
continued Miss Douglas,
“that our parents will approve of any
intimacy with a person who is so unfeeling
as a mother and mistress, and conducts
herself in a manner truly improper
and vulgar.”

“With all her faults,” answered Jane, "she G10v 140
“she amuses me extremely; and I never
will forgive you, if you describe what
has passed to my father and mother, as
it will be a great entertainment to me to
go there now and then. She has seen
so much of the world, it is an amusement
to converse with her; and we
have no occasion to adopt Mrs. Pryce’s
errors, if we associate with her.”

“You forget, Jane, that my mother
has always told us, that we insensibly
acquire the manners of low people if we
are intimate with them.”

“What a methodist you are, Rose,
preaching so finely! Mrs. Pryce says
you seem very particular: I am sure
you are not her favourite.”

“Nor do I wish to be; I should never
feel flattered by the regard of a woman
who is so careless of the health and morals
of her own children.”

“It is no concern of ours; and I
suppose she has a right to manage her
boys and girls as she pleases: I am sure they G11r 141
they deserve to be beat still more, such
rude tiresome brats! It is so dull when
lord and lady Morrington are not at the
Castle, that there is nothing to divert
one; and if you are the cause of our
not visiting her, I will be revenged, and
do something to disoblige you.”

“It is not that I fear your revenge
that I shall this time comply with your
request, but because I am unwilling,
though you are so unkind, to deprive
you of any pleasure. Recollect, however,
that it is on condition you are not
too familiar with her, as I feel assured
she is unamiable; and if her grossness
and inhumanity disclose itself more, I
shall certainly not conceal my sentiments
of her from my father and mother; for
I really think, if not inclined to insanity,
she is very wicked.”

Jane’s good-humour was restored at
this promise, and she was very cheerful
during the remainder of their walk, and
did not say any thing satirical.

Mrs. G11v 142

Mrs. Douglas disapproved their remaining
all day with Mrs. Pryce, unless
she had previously known it, and desired
them never again to act in this
manner without her permision, as Mrs.
Pryce
was a stranger, and though she
had made inquiries, she could not learn
the least intelligence of her or any of
her connexions.—“We are not rich,”
continued Mrs. Douglas, “and it is
therefore of more consequence that we
should be correct in our conduct, and in
the choice of our acquaintance. The
generality of people are not indulgent
to the foibles of those who are not
wealthy, though they will view in a
favourable light the follies of the rich.
You shall take every opportunity of
evincing gratitude to Mrs. Pryce for
her attention during the storm, but I
will not allow any farther intimacy till
I know who she is, and that your characters
will not be injured by visiting her.”

At this moment the general entered. —"I G12r 143
“I think you have been reading a
lecture to the girls,”
said he, with a
smile; “they both look very serious.
Have you told them the good news,
that their favourite, good-natured captain
Burton
, is coming down in a few
days with a friend, to visit us for the
shooting season?”

“We are very glad indeed”, they
both exclaimed; “for I shall never forget,”
said Rose, “how kind he was on
our passage from America, and did all
in his power to entertain us.”

“I wish lord Morrington’s family
were coming down too,”
added Jane,
“and then we should be quite gay.”

“You have your wish, my love,” replied
Mrs. Douglas; “that is another
agreeable piece of intelligence that I
wished to surprise you with.”

Rose and Jane were delighted to hear
this—the former because she was impatient
to see Louise de Rimont, with
whom she corresponded; and the latter on G12v 144
on account of the gaiety that would
take place. Rose was astonished that
she had not in her last letter given any
hopes of so early a visit to the Castle,
and concluded it was her intention to
make the pleasure greater, by its being
unexpected.

On the day that captain Burton and
his friend were expected, Mr. Jerry and
Miss Polly Wizzle dined at Treharne,
with two gentlemen who had been six
weeks on a visit at the doctor’s, and
were engaged a week before to dine at
the general’s. One of the gentlemen
was named Eustace, and a lieutenant in
the militia. He had been quartered
three years since at Fairfield, and became
acquainted with the Wizzles, who
had given him a general invitation to
their house, to stay as long as he pleased,
whenever it suited his inclinations.

This was in consequence of his gallantry
to Miss Wizzle, with whom he
had danced at the monthly Fairfield assembly, H1r 145
assembly, which was an excellent one,
and attended in the winter by many
fashionable and respectable people from
Exeter and the surrounding country.

The other visitor was an old physician,
a doctor Owen, extremely eccentric, who
had landed at Torbay, from France,
where he had been confined as a prisoner
ten years, and when he returned
to England, had a letter of recommendation
to the Wizzle family.

He visited France on a party of pleasure,
and having offended a malicious
Frenchman, he secretly informed the
government that doctor Owen was an
English spy, and laid his plans so well,
that the unlucky physician was made a
prisoner, and many years detained before
his innocence was known. He
wrote poetry, though in a very inferior
style, and got released by writing verses
constantly to the minister of war, which
attracted his attention from their being Vol. I. H absurd, H1v 146
absurd, and ultimately procured his liberty.
He had been to the East Indies
in the early period of his life, and travelled
over the greater part of Europe, besides
residing many years in France;
therefore the general and his lady expected
to receive a great deal of information
and entertainment from him, as he
was near seventy, and a man of education.

But he woefully disappointed their expectations.
He could speak neither
French nor English well, his discourse
being a mixture of both; and his conversation,
if ladies were present, interlarded
with bombast and fine-sounding
ridiculous compliments. When he was
introduced to Mrs. Douglas and her
daughters, he exclaimed—“Here is a
Juno!”
bowing to Mrs. Douglas; “and
a Venus and Hebe!”
addressing the
young ladies—“Angels! angels all!”

Mr. Jerry Wizzle had acquainted Rose and H2r 147
and Jane with this part of his character,
or they would have been quite astonished
at this singular address.

Doctor Owen wore a French wig, exceedingly
well made; and so natural
was its appearance, that they did not
suppose it was a peruke, till, in bowing
profoundly and awkwardly, it fell from
his head, leaving it quite bare. He was
very much confused; and as he took it
up and adjusted it, laid all the fault on
the wig—“They make the wigs so badly
in France,”
he observed, in an angry
voice, “that one cannot keep them fast
on one’s head. I am very sorry indeed
for this accident; I beg you ten thousand
pardons, ladies.”

It was with great difficulty they could
compose their countenances at this
speech; and it had such an effect on
the risible muscles of Mr. Eustace, that
he could not restrain his laughter, and
he excused himself to the doctor, pretending
that it was at something else he H2 laughed H2v 148
laughed. Doctor Owen’s dress was as
ridiculous as his manners, and he wore a
large red linen waistcoat, with flaps.
When they had seen him before, he was
dressed in a handsome suit of black,
which made him appear, as he had been
good-looking in his youth, most respectable;
but he was as whimsical in his
dress as in every thing, and often varied
it.

Mr. Eustace was between thirty and
forty years of age. He had been an attorney,
but from extravagance and extreme
dissipation, had incurred debts to
a large amount. When nearly ruined,
he accepted a lieutenant’s commission in
the militia, which was not a school to
improve a vitiated mind. His figure was
about the middle height, nothing remarkable;
but his face, at the period of
his introduction to the general and Mrs.
Douglas
, was very handsome. It exactly
resembled a portrait (from which
engravings have been made) of the earl of H3r 149
of Essex
, queen Elizabeth’s favourite.
His eyes were beautifully expressive—a
rich dark hazel; his eyebrows finely pencilled,
his nose perfectly formed, his forehead
high and broad, like the earl’s picture,
but his chin too long. What was
very singular, his disposition, in many
points, as well as his features, resembled
that unfortunate nobleman’s; he was
very passionate and impetuous, grossly
insolent if offended in the most trifling
degree: but he had not the good
qualities that likewise distinguished the
earl of Essex. If his wishes were not instantly
complied with by those of whom
he did not stand in awe, he would cruelly
insult and mortify the objects of his displeasure.
In company with the general,
Mrs. Douglas, or any person of the first
respectability, that he dared not presume
to affront with impunity, he was reserved
and formal; but with young people,
and those he was very intimate with and
under no restraint, and whom, if he offended,H3 fended, H3v 150
could not injure his interest, he
was boisterous, rude, and even descended,
when his spirits were high, to be insolently
vulgar. Yet he did not disclose
his character to people he respected till
he had known them a long time. Since
his visit to Fairfield, he had frequently
attended Miss Douglas and her sister
when they walked out, accompanied by
Mr. Jerry Wizzle, who, notwithstanding
his formality and eccentricities, was
much esteemed by the general and all
his family, as he was a good, friendly,
learned, and accomplished man. He
drew and painted in a very pleasing
style, and his little sitting-room (in which
he received his visitors separate from his
parents and sisters) was ornamented
with his performances, and many pretty
curiosities, beautiful shells, and fossils.

With infinite art, Mr. Eustace studied,
from his first introduction, to please
Rose Douglas. Few men, if the least handsome, H4r 151
handsome, fail to fascinate, if they exert
themselves, and have attractive manners;
and as he assumed a captivating address,
and was animated and sensible, he had
the satisfaction of perceiving she thought
him very agreeable.

Having secured, he imagined, a warm
interest in her artless bosom, he ventured
by degrees to unfold the disgusting
side of his disposition: but his vanity
was miserably deceived, though he had
a great share of conceit, in supposing she
was so infatuated as to be blindly indulgent
to his faults. One instance she
witnessed of his violence and unfeeling
heart made her form the resolution to
suppress any affections she was inclined
to feel. This resolution was strengthened
by a conversation she had with Mr.
Jerry Wizzle
.

The worthy Jerry, perceiving that Mr.
Eustace
was prodigal of his attentions to
Miss Douglas, thought it right to inform
her, that he had lately discovered he H4 was H4v 152
was the most unprincipled of men, and
was entangled already with a woman,
by whom he had two children. To all
females, unless they had a large fortune,
his intentions were dishonourable, however
much he might admire their persons.
Jerry observed, that he was very
sorry he had introduced him at Treharne;
but he trusted, as his stay at Fairfield
would now be very short, the affair
might be of little consequence. Jerry
also added, that he confided in her understanding,
of which he had a high opinion,
to banish such a character from her
mind, relying at the same time on her
prudence not to mention what he had
discovered of his disposition to the general;
he would undoubtedly be indignant
and irritated at his presumption in
daring to make love to his daughter
without honourable designs, which the
more astonished Jerry, as he understood
all those he had hiterto addressed were
of the most low and vulgar description.

In H5r 153

In the evening, Rose and her sister,
attended by Mr. Eustace and Jerry Wizzle,
walked in the garden, which was an
enchanting spot, though the trees and
shrubs wore an autumnal appearance.
Doctor Owen and Miss Polly Wizzle
remained in the drawing-room, with the
other part of the company, and the doctor
appeared quite enraptured with their
mother. Miss Douglas conversed chiefly
with JeryJerry, to avoid as much as possible
any familiar discourse with Eustace,
who generally contrived to lead her at a
distance from the rest of the party.
This he observed, and was enraged at
the discovery, which made him display
his natural insolence. The subject of
love being introduced purposely by Mr.
Jerry Wizzle
, Mr. Eustace exclaimed,
with great acrimony, that he would
never marry any woman without a large
fortune; it was very well for boys and
girls to act so foolishly, but no female H5 could H5v 154
could tempt him to commit that folly—
Fortune was his idol.

“I am very glad you are not in love
with me,”
said Rose laughing; “it
would be a shocking thing, as I have no
money, and am of a very different opinion.
Whenever I marry, I should wish
to marry for love.”

“Nonsense! nonsense!” replied Eustace,
quite in a passion that she should
talk so calmly on the subject, and dissent
from him in her sentiments.

Jane and Mr. Wizzle were as much
diverted as Rose at his unreasonable
warmth in being displeased at her not
agreeing with him in what he had advanced,
as every person has a right
to judge for themselves. Conscious of
his improper schemes, he vulgarly understood
as meant for himself what was
only a general topic of conversation, and,
unable to command his passions, left
them soon after, with a sullen aspect, concealing H6r 155
concealing smothered rage, and returned
to Fairfield, without wishing the general
or any of the company good-night.

Miss Polly Wizzle, who was quite
enamoured of this gentle swain, joined
them soon after in the garden, and eagerly
inquired what was become of Eustace?

“He is gone home quite dumpish,”
returned Jerry, “or else in dismal dudgeon:
perhaps he is ill.”

“Oh, dear me! I am quite concerned
at the supposition. I flattered myself we
should hear him sing this evening some
of his merry songs, to please the young
ladies, who are quite delighted I know
with his singing, for he sings comic songs
with success, and scientifically too.”

“And well he may, sister, as he has
had an opportunity of improving his
voice, by being brought up as a chorister,
and used to sing from a boy at some cathedral.”

“That is no discredit to him, brother H6 Jerry; H6v 156
Jerry; he is a gentleman’s son—a lawyer,
which is always a gentleman.”

“I admire his singing amazingly,”
said Rose; “and if I may be allowed to
give my opinion, I think, if he had not
naturally a good voice, his learning to
sing would not be attended with so
much advantage as it has been, for I not
only admire his comic songs, but those
of a more serious cast.”

“You are always so indulgent to every
one, Miss Douglas, that I quite admire
you,”
replied Jerry; “I wish Eustace
resembled you, for he is too apt to speak
ill of all his acquaintance, and to cherish
‘foul-mouthed slander’.”

“That is only his lively way, brother;
his spirits get the better of his reason.”

“Has he any reason, sister?”

“I am sure he is very good-natured,
and laughs and talks with all the servants
as if they were his equals—not a grain
of pride.”

“Ha! Ha!” rejoined Jerry: “too much familiarity H7r 157
familiarity breeds contempt: and have
you forgot that he assumes this freedom
with the domestics to get jobs done for
him gratis, which he has acknowledged,
and says that a laugh and a good-
natured word is all that he pays people
with? You really are very amiable to
return good for evil, when you must recollect
he boasted of the present you sent
him, with these words, ‘Though little,
accept it—Mariana.’
What think you
of my sister’s improvement on simple
Mary?”

“It was because he was pleased with
my gift that he mentioned it, brother:
you put such ill-natured constructions
on all that passes, just like a peevish old
bachelor.”

Miss Polly seemed so angry, that
Rose, to divert the subject, led them to
a small hermitage she had constructed
of willows, twisted, and covered with the
bark of trees and moss, and thatched
with straw. In this undertaking she was H7v 158
was assisted a little by Jane, and a great
deal by Kamira. It was situated in
a retired part of the grounds, and surrounded
with beech, oak, ash, and sycamore
trees, that afforded a cool shade,
even when the sun shone most fervidly.

“I am happy you find amusement in
this employment,”
observed Jerry; “you
who deserve to have that entertainment
returned to you, which you so often bestow
on others. But, with your delicate
form, you must find your manual labours
fatiguing, though it is delightful to sit
under the shade of bowers erected by
yourself, and smell the perfume of flowers
reared by your own hands, as I suppose
those last offerings of the year, now
blooming, were planted by you. Every
sense in this innocent recreation is gratified,
even that of vain superiority, the most
predominant passion in human kind.”

“Begging Miss Douglas’s pardon, I
think gardening and rural amusements,
brother, a very dirty occupation for a lady, H8r 159
lady, and gives a coarse ruddiness to the
skin, and spoils the hand,”
at the same
time displaying a little sallow hand,
which she fancied white because it was
colourless. “You see how white and
soft my hand is; it would not be so if I
worked in a garden—therefore don’t be
persuaded by Jerry to continue this occupation;
it makes your face red, and
look like the full moon.”

Jerry was going to answer his sister,
when his attention, as well as his companion’s,
was attracted by the sound of a
postchaise, which was so unusual there,
that they all ascended a mount, which
afforded them an excellent view of approaching
objects. The sisters guessed
that it contained their expected visitors;
nor were they disappointed, as the postchaise
stopped opposite the Hall, and
two gentlemen alighted.

“Two single gentlemen are they, did
you not say, Miss Douglas?”
cried Miss
Wizzle
: “a very great acquisition in the H8v 160
the country. I hope they will remain
long enough to visit our assembly, for
single gentlemen are much wanted, and
there is often a scarcity of partners, and
it is so awkward to see two ladies stand
up together—worse than sitting forlorn
without a partner.”

Rose replied, she did not know exactly
how long they would remain at Treharne,
but did not doubt her father and
mother would introduce them at the assembly,
if they did not leave Devonshire
before it opened.

Miss Wizzle appeared quite pleased
with this speech, and they all sauntered
a quarter of an hour longer in the garden,
till the bustle of their visitors’ reception
and the usual compliments were
over.

They returned to the drawing-room,
where, according to their expectations,
captain Burton and captain William
Courtenay
were engaged with the general
and Mrs. Douglas in conversation.

Captain H9r 161

Captain Burton flew to meet them,
and expressed his joy at beholding his
young friends after so long an absence;
adding, he was rejoiced to see them much
improved in their appearance, and so considerably
grown, that he should with
difficulty have recognized them in any
other place.

The generous sailor now produced a
number of little elegant presents for the
young ladies, and for every individual
of the family, even for Kamira, saying
he had not forgot the pretty Esquimaux.

He was exactly the character described
frequently as a sailor—kind-hearted,
frank, unsuspicious, and generous; indeed
he possessed too much of the latter
quality, and was often distressed from
his extreme liberality. The noble, liberal
feelings of his nature, which, from the
beginning of his entrance into life, were
always too strong, led him often into
difficulties, and were acted on by the artful
and designing.

Captain H9v 162

Captain Burton placed himself between
the two sisters, and informed them
he was just come from Liverpool with
his friend Courtenay; and Jane asked
him if it was a pleasant town?

“It is a large populous place,” he replied,
“with some regular streets; but
what it is most famous for are the
docks, that are allowed to be the finest
of the kind in England, and I believe
may vie with any in the world for completeness.
The number of ships constantly
there look like a grove of trees.
Formerly the town sent out yearly some
hundred Guinea men, uncommonly handsome
ships, and fitted up in the neatest
style imaginable. Most of them carried
guns, and being fast-sailing vessels,
often took prizes. The merchants at
Liverpool have a custom of knowing
when their ships are coming, at least for
those ships they are anxious about.
Upon a high hill, by the sea-side, every
merchant has his own particular pole. H10r 163
pole. When a ship appears in sight,
the flag of the merchant to whom the
ship belong, is hoisted, and the merchant
knows his flag, and that his ship
is coming.”

Here captain Courtenay, whom Rose
and Jane had scarcely noticed, from being
warmly interested in looking at and
listening to their favourite captain Burton,
joined in the conversation, and said
“You have neglected to mention the
most material point in your account of
Liverpool, which is, that the female inhabitants
of the town are remarkably
handsome: but I will allow for your forgetfulness,
as the present beauties have
made you forget the absent ones. The
theatre is small and neat, though only
one actor and actress were good; the
rest execrable. We went likewise to
see a famous Irish giant—a man well
worth seeing by the curious, who picked
up a great deal of money, as seamen of
all descriptions are fond of sights. Burton,ton, H10v 164
who is six feet high, could just reach
his shoulder with his hand; therefore
you may suppose what a pigmy such a
little fellow as I must appear by the side
of him.”

“You did really,” rejoined Burton
“quite a Tom Thumb. But I must finish
my description of Liverpool, as
Miss Douglas and her sister have not seen
it. The mount we likewise visited, as
you have an uncommon fine view from
it of all the adjacent country, which is
rather flat. The quarry is exceedingly
long and deep, and a great deal of stone
is taken out of it, which is of a useful
kind. To conclude, this town swarms
with people, who do not care a curse
for any one, and the common sailors are
very insulting.”

Doctor Owen approached at this momoment
“Do you remember what the
song says, Miss Douglas—”
“Where, little wanton, wouldst thou be, Half so happy as with me?” "This H11r 165 “This might Miss Douglas say—who
else ought to say as much? You angel,
whose abilities in all respects are superlative,
and demand acquiescence to all
you say, think, or do, on any subject or
occasion. This is not for me to doubt,
any more that I should own, beyond all
dispute, that you are the most charming
of your sex. Your sister is a goddess,
and your mother and both of you the
three Graces. Where shall we meet
with your equal for beauty and every
accomplishment?”

“You have been describing Liverpool,
gentlemen,”
said Mr. Jerry Wizzle,
“to silence his nonsense. I have
been there, and find your description
very correct. After leaving Liverpool,
I travelled for my amusement to several
other places, and first proceeded to Chester.”

“The country from Liverpool to Chester
is fine,”
observed captain Courtenay;
“and the girls at Chester are lovely creacreatures;creatures; H11v 166
but the magistrates are very
strict—it is difficult to ogle them.”

“The ladies seem the principal object
of attraction to you, captain,”
replied
Jerry. “But do you not think
the town a pleasant one, though very antique?
I admire the wall that surrounds
it, which is in excellent preservation, as
the chief inhabitants lay a fine on goods
exported to repair the walls, which are
intersected with small round towers. At
the bottom of the walls is a canal, cut
through the rock, and the ramparts are
a famous mall for the people to walk on
Sunday; and you can see the raceground,
which is a very good one, from
the walls of the town. Another curiosity
worthy observation here are the galleries
that continue from each house to
the next, so that in wet weather you can
walk under cover from one habitation to
another.”

“How convenient and agreeable that
must be!”
said Jane Douglas; “do tell us H12r 167
us more of your journey, Mr. Wizzle.
Where did you go next?”

“To Namptwich, Miss Jane, which is
a small dirty town, with nothing remarkable
in it, except the earl of Huntingdon’s
monument, that, I understood, was
erected by his wife; and from thence we
repaired to Newcastle, where myself and
my party arrived at a very bad inn, and
could hardly get any thing to eat, the
people were so remarkably uncivil.
About a mile from the town is the manufactory
of the famous Wedgewood
ware. We saw all the process, which is
wonderful.”

“Did you visit Uttoxeter afterwards?”
inquired Courtenay; “for there is an
excellent inn at that pleasant little town,
and a very pretty chambermaid, who
engages the heart of every one. A set
of jolly farmers dined at the inn the last
time I visited it, and insisted on coming
up to us, which was highly diverting.”

“Always a female in the case whereeverever H12v 168
you go, captain Courtenay. I liked
the town very much, though I was not
so fortunate as you in seeing the pretty
chambermaid. We then proceeded to
Ashby de la Zouch, a good-sized town;
and then went forward to Leicester, a
large irregular-built place, where you
would not have been pleased, captain, as
the females are plain, and most of the
people methodists. Cardinal Wolsey
was buried in Leicester Abbey, which
is not striking, after having seen the
cathedral at Exeter. There our travels
ended, and we returned home, quite
pleased with our excursion.”

The young ladies thanked Mr. Wizzle
for this concise account of his tour
from Liverpool to Leicester, and a desultory
conversation took place, till a
cold collation was ready, prepared at an
early hour to refresh the travellers. Dr.
Owen
, Mr. Jerry, and his sister, staid to
partake of it, and soon after Rose attended
Miss Wizzle to her dressing-room, to I1r 169
to put on her bonnet, and borrow Miss
Douglas’s
wrapping-cloak, as the night
was cold, and Miss Wizzle too thinly
clad for her age.

Here she warmly expressed her approbation
of the two naval officers. Captain
Burton
she thought a most goodnatured
animated young man, who
seemed to carry his heart in his hand.
His friend Courtenay she likewise
thought very agreeable, and more refined
in his manners, only rather too affected
and coxcombical.—“I understand,” continued
Miss Polly, “he is a post-captain,
and Burton only a commander, as he is
much younger, and appears only five
or six-and-twenty, while Courtenay, I
think, is on the wrong side of thirty;
but his lively gay manners, and his being
a little fellow, make him appear
younger. My brother tells me he has
heard a great deal about him; that he is
quite a man of fashion, and related to a
noble Irish family, which causes him to Vol. I. I mix I1v 170
mix with some of the best society in
London. You see, Miss Douglas, what
an advantage men have over women:
my brother goes about, and sees a great
deal of the world, while I am buried
alive in a dull country village.”

“I am quite a stranger,” Rose replied,
“to captain Courtenay, and ignorant of
his family or acquaintance, merely knowing
him as captain Burton’s friend, who,
I doubt not, would never introduce any
one to my father who did not merit respect.”

Miss Wizzle now took leave, attended
by doctor Owen and her brother, and
they all separated for the night an hour
afterwards, as the travellers were tired,
having had a fatiguing journey.

Chap- I2r 171

Chapter V.

“She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent.” Byron.

On the Tuesday following, lord Morrington
and his lady arrived at the Castle.
Captain Courtenay was acquainted
with them, and a particular favourite of
her ladyship’s. His lordship had made
him promise, that whenever he came
into Devonshire, he would visit them;
and it was his intention, after captain I2 Burton I2v 172
Burton
left Treharne, to pass some weeks
at Morrington Castle.

Captain Courtenay, from being a very
little man, did not attract the eye at the
first blush. The impression he in general
caused was, that he was quite a foppish
character, which did not appear consistent
with the idea usually entertained
of those of his profession, who are expected
to be frank, unfashionable, and
unpolished, but generous, good-natured,
and unaffected, and as rough and difficult
to govern as the faithless and inconstant
element they plough.

But severely did Courtenay revenge
himself on those females who, unacquainted
with his fascinating powers,
neglected and contemned him. His
dark hair waved in luxuriant natural
ringlets round a countenance apparently
beaming with animation and good-humour.
Courtenay’s large blue eyes,
adorned with thick long black eyelashes,
were the most expressive that could be seen, I3r 173
seen, and delineated the most winning
tenderness, or portrayed laughing vivacity,
and depicted other emotions less
pleasing most forcibly. His understanding
was excellent, but the violence of his
passions often eclipsed his good sense;
and his unbounded love for the fair sex,
which was carried to a dangerous extreme,
frequently plunged him in disgrace.

Innumerable (when in London) were
the affairs of gallantry in which he was
engaged, and many innocent victims had
fallen the prey of his irregular desires;
he was the destroyer of their peace, their
purity, their reputation, and, eventually,
sometimes of their life. Yet he continued
the same pursuits without remorse;
for what is so cold, so unfeeling as a libertine’s
heart, who views without feeling,
and even with indifference, the ruin
he has made? Warm is the ice of Greenland,
the snow of Lapland, to the mind
of a licentious wordly man.

I3 Yet I3v 174

Yet he had not quite escaped the
punishment his vices merited, for his fortune
was impoverished, and the only
chance he had now left of retrieving it
was by marrying some woman of extensive
property, which was, at this period,
the sole object of his wishes. Yet his
eye still dwelt on the form of beauty
with rapture, and glanced, with a wish
to destroy, on the artless lovely face.
He little heeded if the woman he was
to marry could secure his attachment, as
money would procure him, at any time,
a beautiful mistress. He would have
given the preference to a pretty wife, but
in the search for riches, paid his court
alike to the young, the handsome, the
ugly, and the old, Plutus being the only
god he worshipped.

Captivating as he was, he had frequently
been refused, by many women
to whom he aspired, either from the parents
being prejudiced against him, from
the report of his universal gallantry and broken I4r 175
broken fortune; or from want of inclination
in the ladies, who were not sufficiently
intimate to be captivated by his
address. However, he had too flattering
an opinion of himself to be discouraged,
and determined to persevere till
success had crowned his designs.

Burton had assisted him with a great
deal of money, as he was a stranger to
the dark side of his character, and
thought him the best and most honest
fellow that ever existed. Courtenay therefore
judged it an excellent plan to accompany
him into Devonshire, where his
character as an Irish fortunehunter was
not known, and being a new scene of action,
he might obtain the hand of some
rich, and perhaps lovely girl. But if she
was wealthy, that was sufficient, as he
proposed to likewise amuse himself in
making dishonourable love to the cottagers,
and pretty daughters of the farmers.

In addition to Courtenay’s other attractions,
his voice was melodious, and I4 he I4v 176
he sung with taste and judgment. It
was to be regretted that he, who could
make himself so pleasing and agreeable,
was an enemy to virtue.

How different from Burton, who,
without the refinement of his friend, had
every excellence that could dignify the
human heart! The most disinterested
generosity influenced his conduct, which
would have done honour to a prince. A
friend having asked him to be godfather
to his infant child, the liberal Burton
complied with his request, making
his godson, at the time he stood sponsor
for him, a present of a handsome sum of
money, which would amount to a pretty
fortune when the infant became of
age; and when he performed this generous
action, he was himself not more
than twenty. He had been fortunate in
taking prizes, which enabled him to indulge
his noble liberality. But his
manners were boisterous as the waves
he traversed, and from being accustomeded I5r 177
to swear on board ship, he could not
conquer this habit.

Burton had brought the general several
dozen of remarkable fine champaigne,
which was a rarity then, and very dear.
Neither Jane or Rose had ever tasted it,
and with their mother’s permission, having
poured out a glass for each, he observed
they were not in haste to drink
it, and wishing they should, to heighten
its flavour and enhance its value, he
called out—“D―n you, drink it off
directly! d―n you, drink it off!”

which they all laughed at and excused,
as he was accustomed to this language
with his sailors. They were all attached
to him, and would fight till they expired,
while he commanded the vessel.

Lady Morrington had been a week at
the Castle, and morning visits had been
mutually exchanged between the inhabitants
of Morrington and Treharne.
Her ladyship was particularly delighted
at seeing Courtenay, as a sort of flirtation I5 had I5v 178
had passed between them, that would
not prevent her aiding his views in obtaining
a damsel of fortune.

Shortly after her arrival, captain Courtenay
received an invitation for himself
and his friend to accompany general
Douglas
and his family to a fancy-ball,
which was to take place at the Castle in
a few days. Everybody invited were to
appear dressed in some character, in a
domino, or fancy-dress, and to support
the character they assumed, but without
masks, which was quite a novelty in the
country, and promised much amusement.

Rose and Jane were elated at the prospect
of such an entertainment, and the
night before the ball, were so engaged in
talking of their dress, and the expected
pleasure, after they retired to their chamber,
that it was one o’clock before they
attempted to compose themselves to rest.
An entertainment of this description
was quite new, and caused them an agreeable
agitation, as they were fearful they might I6r 179
might not have courage to sustain the
characters well that they had chosen.
The notice was so short, that it required
some dress easily procured and arranged;
Rose had therefore fixed on Kamira’s
Esquimaux habits, and Jane had settled
to appear as a country-girl, with a basket
of eggs to sell.

At length they fell asleep, but had
not slumbered more than an hour, when
they waked in alarm at hearing a loud
rumbling noise on the staircase, as if
something heavy had been rolled down,
which was succeeded by a piercing shriek.
They both sat up in bed to listen, and
Rose asked who was there? No answer
was returned, and at that moment their
faithful Ponto howled piteously under
the window. Footsteps ascending and
descending were now heard, and busy
whisperings; and soon after, the heavy
tread of persons in the room above distinctly
followed. Rose wished to open
the door, and see what it was, but Jane
said she should die with terror, if she did.

I6 It I6v 180

It was a very dark night, and the
rushlight, which they always burnt
when the moon did not enlighten the
sky, gave a sudden flash, and was extinguished.
At this critical instant, when
melancholy darkness reigned, and their
minds were impressed with horrible
images, somebody pushed violently
against the door, as if to burst it open,
and turned the handle with force several
times; but it resisted their efforts, being
bolted as well as locked. Jane, after the
first alarm, was so frightened, that she
had crept to her sister’s bed, and they
both remained together, trembling and
saying their prayers, till the person at the
door retreated from it, and heavily walked
down the stairs. Soon after the other
noises ceased, and all was quiet again;
but so uneasy did they feel, that they
could not close their eyes till morning,
through tranquillity reigned undisturbed
throughout the mansion.

Kamira, finding they were unusually late, I7r 181
late, came and knocked loudly at the
door, telling them that breakfast was
nearly over in the parlour. Rose opened
the door, and Jane exclaimed—“Oh,
Kamira! you would have overslept
yourself, had you been frightened as we
have been. We have heard the most
dreadful voices and noises! Somebody
wanted to force themselves into our
room, and poor Ponto, as if he knew we
were in danger, howled dismally.”

“Dolly and me have heard the same
sounds, and worse, for we heard two
men walking in our room, and shook the
curtains of our bed. If I had got a light
I would have fought them with my
great knife; but it was no use, as I
could not see who to strike. Kamira
got the brave heart of an Esquimaux
still; she fight for her dear ladies. But
Robin heard big noise too, but say it
no good me fight ghosts: but perhaps
they no ghost, but robbers come to take
general’s money. I say so Robin, but Robin I7v 182
Robin shake his head, and say it is, it is,
because somebody no rest in their graves,
because your mamma not have her
right.”

“I think,” replied Rose, “it is nothing
wonderful, though we cannot explain
or account for it. Probably our
visitors walk in their sleep, or Dolly and
Robin may, and not know it. Robin may
easily fancy these extraordinary things,
having been accustomed to hear all his
life surprising stories of ghosts, witches,
and fairies, who are said to appear on
every occasion in this country.”

“But me believe what Robin say—a
good old man; he tell me, when the land
and timber belonging to this great house
sold, him daughter and him wife, then
alive, heard people running up and down
stairs while it was being cut down and selling,
and that he sure it is no living people
now running about the house at night.
He afraid of some trouble to the family,
as the wraiths, ghosts, and evil spirits, seem I8r 183
seem to be all in motion, and that your
wicked uncle deals with the devil. Kamira
would not be so rude to say this of
your relation, did she not think you ought
to know all what Robin tells me.”

This account made Rose and her sister
smile.—“It could not be ghosts who
were thus agitated at the trees being cut
down,”
observed the former; “it must
be the hamadryades and dryades, distracted
at their favourite trees being felled;
I cannot be otherwise than diverted
at the idea. But really, Kamira, you
must not believe all that Robin, though
the best creature living, tells you; his
mind is weak, and his imagination easily
worked up to believe in supernatural appearances.
He has lived so much alone
in this old mansion, since the death of
his wife, as Dolly was often with her
aunt, that he is apt to fancy whatever is
horrible and superstitous: nor does it
surprise me, for this place must have
been gloomy and solitary indeed before we I8v 184
we came to enliven it; and when he
heard any noise, he fancied there were
people walking about the house.”

“It is lucky,” said Jane, “that captain
Burton
and his friend, if they are
not sleep-walkers, have apartments in
the northern tower, or they would have
been alarmed, and unpleasantly disturbed,
with the sounds that molested us.”

“Oh, they feel no fright, they no disturbed,”
replied Kamira, laughing, and
shewing her ivory teeth; “they brave
men, they not fear ghosts, or thieves;
they fight for their country, no cowards.”

“I rejoice to hear it,” exclaimed Jane,
“for I should be sorry if they met with
any thing disgusting, as they are so
agreeable; we should lose a great deal
of pleasure in losing their society.”

“Tell Robin,” added Rose, “to keep
a loaded gun and one of my father’s
swords in his room.”

“And I take my bow and arrows,
my tomahawk, and great knife, to wound I9r 185
wound the robbers;”
and as Kamira
spoke these words, all the fire of former
days brightened in her fine black eyes.

“Warn Robin, likewise,” continued
Miss Douglas, “not to mention what
has passed to my father and mother, as
I do not like them to be made uneasy
if I can avoid it; and do you, Kamira,
be cautious what you say.”

“Never fear me. Esquimaux had a
good education; her mother taught
her to know when to be silent, to bear
pain without complaining, to be good to
the stranger and traveller, and not to
speak till others have finished what they
have got to say.”

“I know all your good qualities, and
value them, and have often thought
that the true politeness, real hospitality,
and many virtues of the American Indian,
ought to cause the European,
with all his advantages, to bow before
the untutored savage, as they are usually
styled.”

A postchaise I9v 186

A postchaise was hired to convey
Mrs. Douglas and her daughters in the
evening to the Castle, and the general
and his visitors went on horseback, as
they were to dress at lord Morrington’s.
Captain Courtenay was dressed as a
Highlander, and Burton as a countryman,
in a smock-frock, which made him
an excellent companion for Jane as a
country-girl. Mrs. Douglas looked very
handsome as a lady abbess, and the general’s
figure appeared to great advantage in
the costume of an Indian chief, with Rose,
in Kamira’s attire, as his lovely American
daughter, who managed her bow
with infinite grace, having been accustomed
to see the Esquimaux wield it
skilfully. Lord Morrington was a waggoner,
and her ladyship an Italian lady,
attired in a black gown, front and sleeves
red, with beads in her hair; Louise de
Rimont
a court lady, in a white satin
petticoat, with silver vine leaves, pink and I10r 187
and silver train, with a large hoop, and
feathers on her head.

The hall was beautifully lighted with
a number of pretty lamps, and the suite
of rooms, through which the company
alternately moved, brilliantly illuminated
and decorated with taste and judgment,
under the direction of Louise de Rimont,
whose mother frequently gave entertainments
of this description in
France, which calculated her to direct
and superintend them, much to the satisfaction
of lady Morrington and her
guests.

Involuntarily was every eye fixed on
the beauteous form of Rose Douglas,
and scarcely could wander from her elegant
shape and perfect face, to gaze on
any other object, though many pretty
women were present. When you looked
at her lovely countenance, its glow of
beauty and animation made you forget
the symmetry of her polished figure;
but when you gazed at it first, you admiredmired I10v 188
its rare perfection, where every
movement awakened some new and
winning grace.

Jane eclipsed every female except
her sister, as by candlelight she looked
inimitably fascinating, from its being a
great favourer of bad complexions, for
hers was exceedingly brown in the glaring
light of day.

A young French nobleman, the count
de Fontenai
, was very assiduous in his
attentions to Miss Jane Douglas, and
danced with her the greater part of the
evening. His countenance was very
dark, but his features fine, his figure
well-proportioned, about the middle
height, and he danced so incomparably
well, that she was congratulated on having
such an excellent partner. The
count’s tutor came with him, and another
nobleman, the marquis de Monclair,
who was likewise very attentive to Jane,
and appeared to admire her even more
than the count, though he did not dance so I11r 189
so often with her. He was very tall—a
stout, fine-looking man, but his face was
inferior in attraction to Fontenai’s.

Captain Courtenay devoted himself
the principal part of the evening to lady
Morrington
, and only danced two dances
with a young lady of immense fortune,
a particular friend of her ladyship’s,
whom he relied on to prejudice the
heiress in his favour. When he perceived
that Rose and her sister were engaged,
he approached to solicit the honour
of dancing with each of them, saying
he was a thoughtless fellow, or he
should have engaged them before, and
hoped they would forgive his etourderie.

“No apologies,” replied Jane; “we
have plenty of partners; and, to speak
the truth, I would rather be engaged by
a stranger, for there is little novely in
being asked by those we see every day.”

Rose smiled, which indicated she was
of her sister’s opinion.

“You are more sincere than polite, Miss I11v 190
Miss Jane,”
said Courtenay, quite piqued,
for though he did not wish to be seen
publicly paying attention to portionless
girls, as it might defeat his designs on
others of more importance, he yet wished
to be admired by them, and to be regretted,
particularly by Rose, who really
pleased and interested him, though she
was unconscious of the impression she
had made.

Rose danced with sir Henry Arundel,
who was very pleasing and gentlemanly,
about thirty. He was handsome and
elegant, and she resigned him with regret,
even to dance with her good-humoured
Burton, and afterwards with captain
O’Brien
, an Irishman and a gambler,
who was, as well as Courtenay, in pursuit
of a woman with money. His person
was insignificant, but his manners agreeable,
with a prodigious stock of vanity.
His life was exactly the reverse of what it
ought to be. When in town, he generally
passed whole nights at the gamingtable,table, I12r 191
and all day in bed, which made him
colourless and thin. He usually rose at
five in the afternoon, and went out directly
to dinner, having breakfasted before
he retired to rest.

Captain O’Brien was much vexed at
having asked Rose to dance, when he
found, from lord Morrington, that her
beauty was all her dower, as his lordship,
who knew his character, on purpose
to torment him had hinted that she
was wealthy. He was, consequently,
at first, in very high spirits at the prospect
of obtaining a beautiful girl and
money too; but when lord Morrington
whispered to him that it was quite the
contrary, and that he was concerned he
had made a mistake, his rage at being
undeceived, and thus bereft of all his
golden visions, was almost ungovernable,
and he could with difficulty be
commonly civil to his fair partner.

“Her beauty will not trap me, be
assured, my lord,”
he muttered, in a low voice; I12v 192
voice; “if I must swallow the matrimonial
pill again, let it be well gilt.”

Rose, disgusted with his behaviour,
had declined standing up any longer,
and finding all the other ladies engaged,
he lounged up to her, after he had expressed
his disappointment to lord Morrington,
determined to vent his spleen
by abusing the company, as there was
no one but herself to whom he could disburden
his ill-natured mind at that moment,
every one being employed in the
sprightly dance, or in conversation.

Rose was quite depressed at seeing
him again approach, as she was rejoiced
at having got rid of him. He sat down
by her, and, finding she did not speak,
suddenly exclaimed—“Do look, Miss
Douglas
, at that little fellow: what distorted
faces he is making! he has St.
Vitus’s
dance. I wish he would dance
some of his money of his pocket.”

“You must excuse me,” replied
Rose, with a serious air, “but I do not like K1r 193
like to hear the poor man ridiculed for
being so unfortunate as to be afflicted
with a complaint most distressing. It
is painful to have illness and personal
defects made a subject of laughter.”

“But he deserves it; he is as rich as
a Jew, and as stingy as the devil. He
is a good-for-nothing old man, and as ill-
tempered as he is disagreeable, and so
afraid of dying, that, for fear he should
take cold, he puts on all his clothes
smoking hot, even in the dogdays. He
never reads the newspaper, or a book,
till it has been aired before the fire. His
boots and his hat are placed in front of a
large fire, till they are so burning hot,
that they are obliged to be held out of the
window to cool. He is seldom the least
good-humoured, but when his linen, and
every thing he wears, actually scorch him.
One morning when I called at his house
I found him jumping about the room
without a coat, apparently in an ecstacy
of delight. I asked what had happened, Vol. I. K and K1v 194
and the servant, who was standing by
him, replied, that his master had put on
his pantaloons so hot that they had burnt
him.—‘I am sorry you have met with
this accident, Mr. Shirley,’
I observed—
‘Sorry!’ he rejoined; ‘I am delighted,
as I am certain now I shall not get
cold.’
He does not mind being slightly
burnt, and always smiles with good-humour
at his valet, though peevish and
passionate when his linen, &c. is cool, and
he thinks not aired enough.”

“What would he do if he was married?”
said captain Burton, who had advanced
to them, and heard the latter
part of O’Brien’s observations on Mr.
Shirley
; “I suppose he would place his
wife before the fire, and not speak to
her till she was thoroughly warmed.”

“His heart is not easily warmed—
that is cold enough; and I’ll tell you a
trick a friend of mine played him. He
called on Shirley one very rainy day,
and ran to embrace him, with his clothes quite K2r 195
quite wet, pretending he was enchanted
to see him. Shirley pushed him off,
screaming with agony, fearful it would
give him cold to sit in the same room,
much more to be so near, and affected
an engagement of consequence to drive
my friend away. After this adventure,
he had a fit of ill-temper for several days.
In addition to being very ill-natured, he
is terribly afraid of thunder and lightning.
Every time it thunders, he goes
to bed, and has candles lighted, for his
conscience is bad.”

“He is much to be commiserated,”
said Rose: “with this disposition he
can never be happy; no wealth can
make such a man at ease. But let us
turn from this disagreeable object to
something more pleasing which presents
itself. Look at that fine woman in the
velvet gown embroidered with gold,
and that handsome turban: it appears
to me a Turkish dress, and very appropriate
for that character. What a sweet K2 expression K2v 196
expression in her countenance! Was
ever any hand and arm so finely formed?
as the sleeve falls back you discover it.
How I should like to be introduced to
her! I am convinced I should be attached
to her.”

“It is the celebrated lady Harvey,”
replied O’Brien; “she has been a very
improper character, but is now reformed,
and received into some of the first circles
—at least by such as are not rigid,
like lord and lady Morrington.”

“Oh, don’t tell me any thing more
against her,”
exclaimed Rose; “I will
not listen to you. She looks all sweetness
and goodness, and I cannot believe
a word of scandal. I see lady Morrington
with her, approaching my mother.
They will be acquainted, and I am so
delighted, as I shall then know her.”

“When you are not so new to the
world, ma’am,”
observed the indignant
O’Brien, “you will not be so eagerly
fascinated with every engaging appearance,ance, K3r 197
and find it fallacious. There is
not one person in a hundred that can
now please me, even if they are as artful
as old Nick.”

“You lose a great deal of pleasure
then, by being indifferent to every one.”

“Possibly I may, ma’am;” and as he
pronounced these words, he walked
away to another part of the room, to the
great relief of Rose, who found him too
satirical, though his delineation of some
characters was amusing. Lord Morrington
now introduced a new partner to
her—the honourable Edward Montford.
He was apparently in the meridian of
life, and still handsome, though an air
of languor was diffused over his person,
as if he was in indifferent health. His
conversation was lively, entertaining,
and witty, his manners most polished
and refined, and he danced gracefully,
though with the same listlessness.

Captain O’Brien returned to annoy
Miss Douglas, when he perceived she K3 was K3v 198
was again disengaged.—“You have had
a delectable partner at last,”
he exclaimed,
sneeringly; “one of the most wild
and dissipated characters I know.”

“He is every thing that is agreeable,
and I am sorry to perceive that he is
not in good health.”

“Not in good health!” he exclaimed
with a laugh: “why, he has the finest
health in the world, or he would not
support getting drunk every night. He
has tippled too much now, and that is
the reason he is so languishing.”

“You are really very severe, captain
O’Brien
; you destroy all one’s pleasure
by shewing the dark side of every
body’s character. I shall certainly begin
to disbelieve you. If you think to mortify
me by this account of Mr. Montford,
you are mistaken. I should like
him for a pleasing acquaintance or friend,
but nothing more. Do not fean my being
enamoured of him, for I heard a lady
say, as we were standing at the end of the K4r 199
the dance, that Mr. Montford had been
twice married, and I should not wish to
be attached to a man who had been married
a second time.”

“You are amazingly scrupulous: but
his first wife he did not care a pin for,
though he was madly in love with his second.”

“Then I sympathize with him for
losing the object of his attachment.”

“There you are wrong again, for he
was tired of her.”

“What a malevolent, unpleasing interpretation
you give to the actions and
conduct of others! I conclude you are
very capricious, and judge of the feelings
of people you know by your own.”

“True—you have guessed right.”

“I admire your candour,” replied
Rose, “and will imitate it, by saying
that is the only point in your disposition
I approve, as you are too censorious.”

“Who is that ugly creature,” said
he, “coming this way, marked with the
small pox?”

K4 Rose K4v 200

Rose made no answer, as she trembled
for fear Louise de Rimont should hear
him, who was the person he alluded to,
and advanced to her, with a girl, about
seventeen.

Fortunately his remarks were unheard,
and Louise introduced her companion
to Rose, who thought her the
most lovely being she had ever beheld.
She was attired in a pale pink silk jacket,
and white silk petticoat, trimmed with
ribbons of the same colour, and a wreath
of ivy and pink flowers confined her
luxuriant chesnut hair. Her face was
round, with two cheeks resembling
peaches; her eyes dark, with the sweetest
mouth; her lips like coral, and finely
formed; and the light elegance of her figure
gave one the idea of a sylph. She
smiled with an air of good-humour at Rose,
who was quite captivated with her, and
Louise introduced her as a Miss Herbert.

They proceeded together to look at
Mr. Jerry Wizzle, who was dressed as
a Jew, with a long beard, and exhibited a magic- K5r 201
a magic-lanthorn, which part of the company
assembled round him to gaze at,
and he sustained his character uncommonly
well. Eustace (who had not
quitted the country) accompanied him
as a watchman, with a droll little curly
wig, and Miss Wizzle as a virgin of the
sun—white gown, and large veil, with a
gold band round her head.

This group highly diverted them all,
till Miss Herbert was summoned by her
party to quit the Castle, as her residence
was at a great distance from lord Morington’s.

Rose and Miss Herbert separated with
regret, but with the hope of soon meeting
again, as Treharne was half-way from
where she resided to the Castle.

Miss Herbert had scarcely left the
room, when O’Brien was again at her
side, purposely to indulge his splenetic
moon, and therefore pursued Rose as her
shadow.

“You are delighted, I see, Miss Douglas,K5 las, K5v 202
with that girl just gone; but I advise
you not to be too easily fascinated;
she is only a natural daughter of Mr.
Herbert’s
, who, though a man of fashion
and fortune, ought not to introduce his
spurious offspring. Ha! ha! I cannot
help bursting my sides with laughter to
see some of the prim ladies, who pretend
to be models of correctness and of starched
virtue, caressing base-born children,
if their fathers happen to be rich and of
consequence. It is shameful that it is so
much tolerated, and a shocking example
to the commonalty.”

“You will allow she is very beautiful?”
replied Rose, who did not wish to
notice his incorrect observations.

“Very well—by no means beautiful;
she wants animation—a mere automaton.
There is no beauty without life—she
seems to simply vegetate.”

“You exhaust my patience, and satirize
every one. I expect to have my
share of your censure, and should be entertainedtertained K6r 203
to hear you, as you have not
gallantry enough to be more indulgent
to the ladies than the gentlemen.”

“You may rely on not escaping, unless
you conciliate my favour by being
pleased with my society; but you do not
seem that way disposed.”

“Lash me as cruelly as you can, for I
will not disguise that I think you too
much addicted to severe aspersion.”

Here their conversation was interrupted
by the general, Mrs. Douglas, and
Jane, who informed her the postchaise
was ready to convey them home.

They were attended to the carriage by
the count de Fontenai, the marquis, and
several other beaux, and left this pleasant
scene of festivity with an agreeable
recollection of the pleasure they had enjoyed
without any alloy.

The general returned with them in
the carriage; they were much incommoded
for want of room, but in high
spirits, till they reached Treharne. GeneralK6 neral K6v 204
Douglas
had, in the course of the
evening, met with a favourite acquaintance,
whom he had not seen for several
years, and this made the hours pass imperceptibly
and pleasantly.

The day after the ball was very fine
for the latter end of November, and
tempted Rose and Jane to walk. Their
conversation, as they proceeded, naturally
turned on the occurrences of the
last evening.

“You appeared,” observed Rose, “to
admire the count de Fontenai: his person
is very pleasing, and his elegant
style of dancing quite fascinating, but to
his understanding and manners I am a
stranger. Is he sensible and agreeable?”

“Quite the reverse; I think he is half
a fool, and very inferior to the marquis
de Monclair
in captivation.”

“Explain, then, why you had the appearance
of being much pleased with
him, and neglected the marquis, with
whom you seldom danced?”

"Because, K7r 205

“Because, though I prefer the person,
sense, and manners, of the marquis de
Monclair
, I would sacrifice my inclination
to the wealth of Fontenai, as I am
told he is very rich, and an only son.”

“You are very wrong, Jane; for if
Fontenai is as weak as you represent
him, he may, by some foolish action, impair
his fortune, while Monclair, with
his good understanding, may improve
instead of diminishing the little he possesses.
Besides, you ought not to encourage
both; you may lose each admirer
by such coquetry, which is certainly
dishonourable.”

“I do not care a straw for either, but
I am in the right to amuse myself with
their admiration; and even if they should
in time entertain a real passion, it will
do them no injury. I recollect hearing
Mrs. Pryce say, that men seldom die for
love; they are soon consoled.”

Just as she pronounced these words,
the black girl appeared in sight, with Mrs. K7v 206
Ms. Pryce’s youngest daughter and little
Tommy.

They ran up directly to Jane, and the
little girl said—“How many days it is
since you have been to see us! Mamma
often talks of you, and wishes you would
come soon.”

Jane, who seldom blushed, now felt a
deep crimson suffuse her cheeks, and in
confused accents desired them to tell
their mamma she would call very soon,
and dismissed them.

But the little girl called out, as they
were going—“Mamma told us to walk
this way, as perhaps we might meet you,
as we used to do,”
which heightened her
confusion.

Rose was so affected at discovering her
sister had a concealment of this description,
that she could not speak for some
minutes.—“Oh, Jane!” she at length exclaimed,
“how could you be so deceptious
as to visit that unamiable lowminded
woman frequently, unknown to your K8r 207
your family? Chance has led to the
discovery, notwithstanding all your precaution,
and it is very imprudent to associate
with a woman whose character is
suspicious, from the inquiries my mother
made respecting her in the neighbourhood.
Yet she has sent her several presents,
to evince our gratitude for her
kindness during the storm, and requested
we will be polite and good-natured
when we meet her or the children, but
to avoid any intimacy. I fear you will
bring yourself into some affliction, if you
persevere in visiting her.”

“I am the best judge of my own conduct,”
replied Jane, elevating her voice;
for, conscious she had acted wrong, she
endeavoured to drown the reflection in
noise; “and if I am ever persuaded by
Mrs. Pryce to act imprudently, I injure
no one but myself.”

Rose was frightened at her speaking
so loud, lest their conversation should be
overheard; but thought it her duty to admonish K8v 208
admonish her to correct the violence of
her temper. This conduct, she observed,
that was overlooked in a child, was insupportable
in a woman; and she should
remember they were descended from a
distinguished family, that she hoped she
would endeavour not to disgrace, as her
thoughtless behaviour made her very uneasy.

Fury flashed in Jane’s eyes, and she
was going to reply with acrimony, when
a turning in the winding road they were
sauntering through presented the wellknown
forms of Courtenay and Burton
at a little distance.

Jane had the prudence to check her
anger, and said, in a whisper, before the
gentlemen drew near, that if her sister
would conceal her visits to Mrs. Pryce
from her mother, she would promise to
only call and see her once more.

“I depend on your keeping your
word,”
replied Rose, “otherwise I shall
incur my parents’ displeasure for concealingcealing K9r 209
what has passed, and it will prevent
me from ever again entangling myself
in your concerns. How often have
I taken a thorn out of your side, to put
in my own! But, if you deceive me
again, I must renounce you for ever.”

Happily the near approach of the gentlemen
terminated this unpleasant altercation;
and Burton, who had perceived
that his friend admired Rose, with his
usual sweetness of temper walked forward
with Jane, leaving Courtenay to
escort Miss Douglas.

Captain Courtenay was disposed to
make himself very agreeable, and when
that was his intention, he seldom failed
to succeed.

Rose was more charmed with his conversation
than she had ever been, and
the time glided insensibly and delightfully
away. There was an irresistible
tenderness and softness in his address,
and for the time, unconsciously, she
experienced a predilection in his favour, and K9v 210
and felt the full force of the winning expression
of his fine blue eyes.

As they slowly walked back, they
heard the sound of a bugle-horn, and
lord Morrington’s pack of fox-hounds,
which met that morning at Stokewood,
appeared in sight. Eustace was with
them, and called out that they had enjoyed
excellent fun, one of the French
noblemen having been obligated to suspend
himself in a tree, when his hunter
leaped over a five-barred gate, but he
supposed he would soon extricate himself
from his exalted situation.—“We
have had a most delightful run,”
added
Eustace, “of two hours, and I mean
to be in at the death;”
and saying this,
he rode off.

They had not walked much further,
before sir Henry Arundel, Mr. Montford,
the count de Fontenai, and the
marquis de Monclair, overtook them.

They inquired if the story Eustace had
related was true, and Fontenai acknowledgedledged K10r 211
it was, and that he had by that
method escaped breaking his neck, never
having hunted before. He now dismounted,
and leading his horse, said he
would attend them to Treharne, as he
wished to call on the general and Mrs.
Douglas
.

The marquis de Monclair was determined
likewise to give up the chase,
which had, he observed, little attraction
for him, and the ladies infinitely more;
and De Fontenai and himself resigned
their horses to a servant, and walked
with captain Burton and Jane.

Sir Henry Arundel and Mr. Montford
now wished them all good-morning, saying
they should pay their respects to the
general the following day.

Captain Burton was disgusted with
the foppishness and empty discourse of
De Fontenai, for his chief topic of conversation
related to dress. He informed
Jane that he had invented many newfashions,
and that he always cut out himself K10v 212
himself the pattern of his waistcoats and
pantaloons; and if any work was required
to ornament the latter part of his dress,
he drew the design himself.

“This may be very interesting to your
tailor,”
exclaimed the marquis de Monclair,
“but it cannot concern any one
else—but I beg your pardon, it may
probably also interest your valet, who
has these wonderful habiliments secondhand.”

The marquis was perfectly free from
the coxcombical weakness that made De
Fontenai
ridiculous, and it silenced the
count on this subject for the present;
but he commenced another almost as absurd.
His vanity made him conjecture
that Jane Douglas admired him as much
as he did her, and looking tenderly at
her, he sighed and said—“I have a
very delicate constitution, mademoiselle
Jeanne—I wish entre nous you were
not called Jeanne, for that is the name
we call goats by in France. However, as K11r 213
as I was going to observe, I do not think
I shall live many years, as all my family
for several generations have died young;
and when I marry, I should like my
wife, after my decease, not only to wear
black, but to have her apartments likewise
hung with the same dismal colour,
and even the curtains of her bed.”

“What stupid nonsense!” exclaimed
Burton; “the black draperies would
soon be exchanged for a more gay appearance.
You have heard, I suppose,
the old story of the Ephesian matron,
and I am sure women are not less inconstant
than formerly?”

“I have a better opinion of myself,
monsieur le capitaine, than to suppose I
should not be lamented by my wife—I
even think she would not survive my
loss: a count de Fontenai is not every
day to be obtained.”

This sally diverted them all; and the
marquis, whose circumstances were very contracted, K11v 214
contracted, observing that captain Courtenay
was considerably older than any
of the gentlemen present, conjectured
that he was some rich man, who was
making his court to one of the young
ladies, and his partiality to Jane made
him apprehensive that she was the object
of his admiration. He introduced the
subject of marrying from interested
motives, and thought it disgraceful for
either man or woman to marry for fortune.

“For a man it certainly is,” replied
Burton; “but in a woman it is pardonable,
as distressed finances or an uncomfortable
home is often their just excuse.”

“That is no extenuation of their error
—love and content are superior to
wealth and grandeur. The rich do not
know what love is—it is a blessing reserved
only for the poor. A young lady
and gentleman of my acquaintance, who
were ardently attached, married with a very K12r 215
very small income, and they were quite
contented: affection supplied the absence
of luxuries.”

“Spoken like a romantic enthusiastic
young Frenchman,”
said Burton:
“but I admire your sentiments, and it
appears to me that you have more liberal
ideas of love in France than in England.
I am afraid we are in general too
mercenary.”

“You are a trading nation,” replied
Monclair, “and that may be the cause;
but your very young men in this country
have a little more ardour and liberality
than those advanced or advancing
in years. How superior is their attachment
to an old man’s! A young man
does not know the colour of your eyes,
and is indulgent; while, on the contrary,
the other is peevish, obstinate, and illhumoured.”

They continued to discuss this point
till they arrived at the side of the river
fronting Treharne; they crossed over, and K12v 216
and found lady Harvey with their father
and mother.

The gentlemen soon after departed,
and her ladyship then invited the general,
Mrs. Douglas, and her daughters, to
pass a few days at her villa. The general
and his lady declined the invitation,
but allowed their daughters to avail
themselves of it.

Lewin Court, the residence of lady
Harvey
, was charmingly situated on the
banks of the river Exe, near the countryseat
of Miss Herbert’s father, which was
an additional temptation for Rose to
wish to go there.

Miss Herbert, hearing soon after that
they intended to visit Lewin Court, offered,
with the utmost good-nature, to
fetch them in her father’s carriage, and
on the day appointed conveyed them to
her ladyship’s house.

Lady Harvey received them on their
arrival with mingled sweetness, dignity,
and elegance. Miss Nugent, the adopteded L1r 217
daughter of a particular friend, was
with her. She was a delicate fair girl,
about twelve years old, with blue eyes,
and an expressive engaging countenance.

Half-an-hour after they had arrived,
the sisters expressed a wish to retire, and
dress for dinner; but lady Harvey, in the
most amiable manner, said—“I beg you
will not take that trouble, after your
journey, as I understand you had a long
walk before you commenced it. I live
in general so retired, that we make no
toilet here.”

Her ladyship’s mother now entered,
and was introduced to them as Mrs.
Curtis
. Her appearance was that of an
old farmer’s wife, but her behaviour easy
and cheerful, as if accustomed to good
society, though her language was simple.
Mrs. Curtis appeared to dote on her
daughter, who seemed to ardently return
her affection.

Rose admired lady Harvey’s filial piety,
which prevented her from being Vol. I. L ashamed, L1v 218
ashamed, in the superior and elevated
station in which she had moved, to acknowledge
her parent, and shew her
every tenderness.

When lady Harvey attended her husband,
sir Walter Harvey, abroad, her
mother accompanied her, and her ladyship
was received by the queen of a foreign
court with the greatest distinction.
Sir Walter was the slave of her consummate
beauty, and he assiduously exerted
himself to improve her then uninformed
mind.

Lady Harvey possessed, with the most
perfect form and face, wonderful natural
abilities, and, though young and uneducated,
soon became elegant and accomplished.
Nature had done a great deal
for her, and the instruction of sir Walter,
and the best and most refined society,
finished what she had begun.

Many anecdotes were related of her
ignorance and simplicity, and among the
rest, that sir Walter, who was a great collector L2r 219
collector of antiquities and rarities, having
obtained a most rare and valuable
vase, placed it in his drawing-room:
here her ladyship was one day displaying
some graceful attitudes, which were
generally admired, when, approaching
near the vase, sir Walter looked alarmed,
which made her exclaim—“Don’t
be afeard, sir Walter—I won’t break
your jug.”

But these kinds of stories, if true, or
raised by envy at her exaltation from a
low condition, did not lessen her merit,
but really served to make her genius
appear the greater, that could break
through the disadvantages of early neglect
and indigence.

Lady Harvey had taught Miss Nugent
some of her graceful and fascinating
attitudes, which she practised with
a white muslin shawl, that she tastefully
disposed, so as to form an elegant drapery
round her slender figure, when she
assumed the posture and expression of L2 different L2v 220
different characters. Miss Douglas and
her sister likewise admired the incomparable
style in which lady Harvey had
instructed the interesting Miss Nugent
to repeat poetry.

Rose was more captivated than ever
with the dazzling beauty, talents, and conversation
of lady Harvey, and could with
difficulty withdraw her eyes from her attractive
person, whenever she spoke or
sung, which she did inimitably. In conversation,
her voice was sweetly harmonious,
and Rose mentally exclaimed—
“I am not surprised at her elevation, for
I am certain I should have been in love
with her, if I had been a man.”

Her ladyship, who was well acquainted
with the world, and had considerable
penetration, easily perceived her innocent
and unaffected admiration, and was
pleased with this artless homage to her
charms from one so new to life.

She smiled at seeing Miss Douglas, in
the course of the evening, look at one of L3r 221
of her portraits, drawn when she was in
the first bloom of youth, and exclaim—
“How exquisitely lovely it was!”

Jane, who was not such an enthusiast
as her sister, was engaged in conversing
with two nieces of lady Harvey’s, that
her ladyship had likewise the goodness
to maintain, and from whom she learnt
many anecdotes that were afterwards
communicated to her sister.

Lord Nugent, the courageous and distinguished
naval officer, who was the reputed
father, by many, of his adopted
child, Miss Nugent, had bravely expired,
about three years previous to the present
period. The warmth of his attachment
and friendship for lady Harvey was almost
unequalled, and his dying thoughts
rested on her and his daughter, before
the fatal moment of his irremediable loss.
When he was in company, he was never
animated but when her ladyship was
speaking or singing, and then his single
eye (having lost the other in battle) was L3 enlightened L3v 222
enlightened with vivacity and delight.
A regard so flattering and uncommon
produced a grateful and affectionate return.
The news of his death acutely
wounded her feelings, and frenzied sorrow
for some weeks nearly turned her
brain; but time, and the reflection that
her grief was irreparable, had softened
her anguish.

Lewin Court was enchantingly situated
on the banks of the river, with a
garden in front, leading down on a slope
to it. On the ground-floor was a pretty
boudoir, two elegant drawing-rooms, and
a dining-parlour. Several exquisitely-
painted portraits of lady Harvey, when
very young, and afterwards when her
beauty was more matured, ornamented
the drawing-rooms, and Rose thought
she had never beheld any thing so eminently
lovely, as her form was perfectly
proportioned, and her face beautiful. In
her person was combined what is rarely
seen—the perfection of beauty, with expressionpression L4r 223
and grace. Lord Nugent’s bust
was placed in the handsomest drawing-
room, and his pictures in every apartment,
in different attitudes; each room,
therefore, reminded one of the brave hero,
who had nobly distinguished himself in
many a severe contest. Near a wholelength
portrait of him, in the best drawing-room,
was a very interesting picture
of Miss Nugent, when nearly three
years younger, kneeling at the tomb of
the brave Nugent, with her sweet blue
eyes suffused with tears. The performance
was pleasing and affecting, and her
youthful sorrow so well portrayed, that
the drops of anguish seemed to tremble
in her eyes. In the same apartment
hung the picture of the foreign queen
who was so much attached to lady Harvey,
and evinced the greatest friendship
for her. Her face and form were exceedingly
handsome, but her countenance
was haughty and repulsive, and
they could not tell if it was its natural L4 expression L4v 224
expression or a misrepresentation of the
artist.

The apartment destined for Rose and
Jane was an elegant room on the first
floor. The bed-furniture was a beautiful
coloured muslin, lined with a deep
pink silk; and when they arose in the
morning, the scene from the windows
was delightful. The river flowing gently
along, its banks covered with verdure
and trees, and a prospect of hills gradually
rising behind, gave it altogether the
most pleasing and cheerful view of nature
in her loveliest garb.

After passing three happy days, they
returned home, and found their father
and mother absent, having rode out, but
Eustace waiting for them in the drawing-room.
He had called early in the
morning to take leave, as he was shortly
to quit Fairfield; and Mrs. Douglas,
with her customary good-nature, invited
him to remain and dine, as she thought
he would be glad to see the young people before L5r 225
before he went, judging, with a mother’s
partiality, that every person who had
known them for any length of time must
be prepossessed in their favour. Mr.
Eustace
had studied to make himself approved
by Mrs. Douglas, and been successful,
as she was unacquainted with his
having had artful designs on her daughter,
who had not thought it worth while
to mention how often he had expressed
an attachment to her, and told many a
tale of love. She was apprehensive of
his incurring her mother’s anger, who
would consequently inform the general
of the circumstance, which would excite
his indignation against Eustace; and she
could not endure the reflection, ill as he
had behaved to her, of causing him any
real vexation, though he richly merited
punishment for his presumption.

“Have you seen any thing of captain
Courtenay
or Burton, Mr. Eustace,”

asked Jane “since you came here?”

“For a moment,” he replied, “and L5 they L5v 226
they are now gone to Morrington Castle,
where, I understand, they sleep tonight.”

“Don’t you think them very agreeable
men?”
continued Jane.

“Burton, I grant you, is; but Courtenay
is the greatest puppy I have yet
met with—the most decided libertine
ever known; it is such an affected coxcomb!
I am acquainted with many officers
in the navy, who speak with the utmost
contempt of his vanity and affectation.
At table one day, in carving a
fowl, he said—‘Will you allow me to fatigue
you with the bosom of this fowl?’”

“Those who speak against him,” observed
Rose, “only prove their envy of
his superiority, and because he is a universal
favourite with the ladies. It is publicly
acknowledged that he displayed
the truest bravery in a duel he fought
abroad; and likewise in a distinguished
battle, where he evinced the noblest intrepidity,
activity, and courage, which will L6r 227
will be remembered as long as the History
of England lasts. That he is rather
foppish, I do not deny: but who, pray,
is perfect? One fault is pardonable, and
it is better to be silent than censure superior
merit.”

“You speak, Miss Douglas, as if you
were much interested in his favour. I
am astonished you should, and cannot
imagine how you can be partial to a man
who has no personal attraction to boast.
Such an old fellow too, coaxing his sable
curls over his wrinkled forehead, with a
head like a bull.”

“Whatever faults may cloud his character,”
exclaimed Rose, “he has one
virtue that counterbalances all, which is
charity to the failings of others: he is
not inclined to the odious vice of defamation.
I have never known him the
least disposed to censure; and, to prove
his superiority to you, Mr. Eustace,
when a gentleman was criticising your
person, and saying your chin was like a L6 shoeing- L6v 228
shoeing-horn, and the handle of a pump,
he observed that was too severe, and that,
in his opinion, you were a handsome man.
It is not captain Courtenay’s appearance
alone that is attractive (though his eyes
are beautiful), but the fascination of his
manners, which makes him dangerous.”

“Fascination of his manners!” said
Eustace, in a contemptuous tone; “it’s
those curls, I suppose, which he papers
undoubtedly every night. Whoever
can be pleased with him must be easily
fascinated. It is a downright infatuation.”

“If you go in this style,” replied
Rose, “I shall believe what the gentleman
who was censorious, like yourself,
declared—that people who had such a
long chin as yours were always satirical
and ill-tempered.”

“Believe what you please, ma’am,
but be assured you will repent this blind
admiration. When Courtenay held a
situation abroad, he seduced a number of innocent L7r 229
innocent young girls, even mulattoes and
black girls, and several in England,
whom he afterwards deserted. I discovered
him the other day making love to
a beautiful country girl, not far from
Treharne. I had met him three or four
times before with her, and he said to me
‘Say nothing about it Eustace; don’t
spoil sport.’
By Heavens! I should not
be surprised if he married her, notwithstanding
his search after a rich wife, in
the person of the great fortune, Miss
Mason
. She is a lovely creature this
fair country girl—unadorned simple nature.
It is an excuse for any mad action
he may commit, and the Irish, I have
been told, are fond of low connexions.”

Here Eustace felt his malice completely
gratified, for Rose blushed, and then
her complexion turned to a deathlike
paleness, unconscious of her predilection
for Courtenay, till she heard of his being
attached to another. She did not recover
her usual vivacity during the rest of the L7v 230
the day, to the extreme satisfaction of
the satirical Eustace, who seized every
opportunity of mortifying her, as her depression
gave him an additional advantage.
He had, however, no justifiable
reason to exult over and insult her. He
would have been equally endeared to
her if he had evinced the same winning
tenderness and captivating address as
Courtenay had demonstrated. Her disposition
was too honourable to have willingly
received any striking attentions,
or given encouragement to the captain,
had she been engaged to Eustace.

In the afternoon they walked to the
hermitage. The sun shone warmly for
the season; and the little building being
well secured with thatch and moss, was
protected from the intrusion of the cold
air. They seated themselves there for a
few minutes, and Jane asked Eustace to
give them a farewell song.

He declined, saying he was not in
voice; and suddenly turning to Rose exclaimed— L8r 231
exclaimed—“I am quite surprised, Miss
Douglas
, that you are not more accomplished.
Your sister plays on the
lute, but you cannot perform on the
piano, or any musical instrument.”

“I am sorry you disapprove of my
deficiency in modern accomplishments,”

said Rose, with a smile; “but I assure
you I have not the least inclination to
perform on any musical instrument, unless
I could excel. An indifferent performer
only wounds the ear, and cannot
convey any pleasure to people of taste.”

“To play well,” observed Jane, joining
in the conversation, “is desirable; but
I think it is annoying to hear a lady execute
a piece of music, or a song, like a
learner, which frequently happens in society,
and none of the company attend to
the performance, unless to bestow undeserved
praise, and please the wretched
performer with flattery. Neither do I
think it a wonderful accomplishment to
play on the piano, as you do, Mr. Eusstace,tace, L8v 232
having heard my father and mother
say, that in London the daughters
of the meanest tradesmen learn music;
and you often hear the sound of some
musical instrument as you pass a greengrocer’s
or butcher’s shop. We were
very young when we embarked with
our parents for America, where we could
not get a good master to improve us,
and therefore soon forgot the little musical
instruction we had received in England.”

“You must have been both very dull,”
rejoined Eustace, “to forget the lessons
you had from your master in this country.
What you have advanced is a
poor excuse for your want of genius.
But, never mind—people get very well
through the world without being clever.”

“You need not be so ill-natured, Mr.
Eustace
, for my sister is allowed to be
very accomplished, and possesses many
elegant acquirements, which are much
admired.”

"Ha! L9r 233

“Ha! ha!” cried Eustace; “you will
really make me burst with laughing if
you continue puffing your sister in this
ludicrous manner. Now go on, and give
us an account of the accomplishments of
the rest of the Douglas family. I did
not find fault with you, because you
play and sing exceedingly well on the
lute, but with your sister’s dulness and
inferior taste, in neglecting to cultivate
so pleasing a talent.”

Rose blushed, and mildly said—“I
wish you had not taken the trouble to
defend me, Jane, as your vindication
only excites more severe observations.”

“Satirize him then in return,” replied
her sister; “I am sure he affords an
ample subject for criticism; I shall never
spare him when he attacks me. But
I rejoice the ill-natured creature is going,
and can no longer vent his spleen on you.
He is not like the good captain Burton
and amiable Courtenay, who are always
praising you, and admiring your abilities. Captain L9v 234
Captain Burton has made Rose, Mr.
Eustace
, a most elegant present, for a
drawing she painted for him.”

This intelligence, and Miss Jane’s remarks,
did not heighten his good-humour,
and he continued in the same
splenetic temper, and sullen to Miss
Douglas
, till the period of his departure.
Of the general, Mrs. Douglas, and Jane,
he took a polite and friendly farewell;
but shewed Rose (without any reason) a
cool and marked neglect, scarcely saying
adieu; and she justly felt his going away
quite a relief, never having, by her conduct,
merited such treatment, which was
unmanly and unworthy.

General Douglas was reading in his
library the next morning, when he unexpectedly
received a letter from Scotland.
It informed him that his brother
was dangerously ill, and wished to see
him. In consequence of this information,
he proposed setting out the following
day, as he was anxious to comply with L10r 235
with the wishes of his near relation, in
that critical state of health. Mrs. Douglas
insisted on accompanying a husband
so beloved, whose naturally strong constitution
was become fragile from repeated
hardships and excessive fatigue.
With health so precarious, she would not
allow him to travel thus far alone, as he
would feel the loss (if taken ill) of her
unvarying attention and tenderness—
that tenderness which springs from the
heart, and is so superior to the assiduities
of an hireling.

This arrangement being concluded,
captain Burton and his friend proposed,
that on the same day that the general
and Mrs. Douglas left Treharne, Courtenay
and himself should repair to Morrington
Castle
, and take advantage of
lord Morrington’s repeated invitations for
them to make his lordship a long visit.
Mrs. Fane, who resided at Arlington, a
village about a mile from Treharne, and
was much attached to Mrs. Douglas, her intimate L10v 236
intimate friend, promised to call and see
her daughters every other day, and to
have them frequently at her house;
which was very consolatory to their mother,
who felt uneasy at quitting them,
as they had never been separated from
her, except for a few days, before.

The general could not feel afflicted at
the situation of his brother, as he had
not experienced the least kindness or
proof of attachment from him, though
he knew his narrow circumstances, with
a family to support, and was himself environed
with riches he had not the spirit
to enjoy. His miserly disposition had
contracted the natural and social affections
of the heart; and he once refused
to lend the general a trifling sum of money,
when he requested it in great pecuniary
distress. Yet this niggardly being,
when he feared he was approaching his
dissolution, seemed to feel keen remorse
at length touch his flinty breast, though
every affectionate sentiment previously appeared L11r 237
appeared withered and obliterated. He
was now anxiously desirous to behold
his nearest relative before the vital spark
was extinct.

General Douglas lamented that Felix
was not at home to remain with his sisters
in their absence, as they had never
been unprotected till the period which
was arriving, when they would be left
alone for the first time. But he confided
with satisfaction in the prudence and
steadiness of Rose, and cautioned her and
her sister to decline every invitation they
received in their absence, except one
long-promised visit to doctor Wizzle’s,
and as many as they liked to Mrs. Fane’s,
though he relied on their good sense not
to obtrude too often on that amiable lady’s
goodness, who would invite them
perhaps more frequently than was convenient
to her. The commands of their
parents would be a sufficient excuse, he
observed, for them to decline visiting at Morrington, L11v 238
Morrington, or any other place, without
giving offence.

Rose was very melancholy when the
moment of her father and mother’s departure
arrived. Captain Burton and
his friend were already gone, but, with
the general’s permission, had promised to
call and see them. This did not, however,
console her for the loss of her worthy
and respected parents’ society. She considered
the distance they had to go, her
father’s delicate health, and that they
could not return for a long time, even if
her uncle had expired before they reached
Scotland.

Jane, who was seldom affected at any
event, looked serious, while KamiaKamira, when
the carriage drove off, wept and bemoaned
herself as if she was never to see them
any more.

It was an interesting scene to behold
the fidelity and affection of the Esquimaux,
who retained all her savage virtues,tues L12r 239
though her exterior was grown polished,
and Rose valued her more than
ever for her ardent attachment to the dear
authors of her being. Dolly and Robin
looked very grave, and dulness reigned
that day throughout the mansion—
scarcely a sound was heard.

The general’s journey passed without
any remarkable occurrence, and, as they
travelled expeditiously till they reached
Scotland, Mrs. Douglas was pleased to
observe that he supported the fatigue
better than she could have expected.
To Mrs. Douglas the scenery in North
Britain
was quite new, and she admired
that part of her journey that conducted
her to the banks of the picturesque river
Dee, that has been so often celebrated
in verse. The country combined wild
and pleasing images: here fields of
waving corn, intermixed with craggy
hills and towering rocks, diversified the
landscape; a cheerful village peeped
from among the trees, and willows and lofty L12v 240
lofty pines graced the side of the water,
as, calm and smooth, it clearly flowed
along. They proceeded through a winding
romantic vale, bounded with mountains
clothed with wood, till they reached
a sterile spot, from whence a natural
cascade fell, and murmuring rushed
among the overhanging rocks and cliffs,
the water, where it was not mixed with
foam, being as bright and transparent as
crystal.

They travelled progressively till they
attained a hill that commanded a prospect
of the Dee, flowing gently onward,
and on the summit of this eminence was
erected, many centuries since, the gothic
castle of sir James Douglas, the general’s
harsh and parsimonious brother.

The cheerful aspect of the river, reflecting
the azure sky, enlivened the
prospect, to which the dark green extensive
woods would have given a gloomy
air. A little island in the river, planted
with shrubs and trees, gave a variety to the M1r 241
the scene. Some of the neighbouring
summits were shaded with broom and
heath, enlivened with its gay purple and
yellow blossoms; and here and there
a grey rock raised its venerable head.

At the back part of the castle of
Towie Craigs was a large park, extending
to a great distance, filled with deer,
whose branching horns and light elegant
figures gave a pleasant feature to
the varied view.

They reached the Castle-gate; the
postillion rang the heavy bell; it sounded
loud and hoarse, and a ferocious mastiff
barked furiously, as if unaccustomed to
the arrival of visitors. The door was
cautiously and slowly opened, after an
old man from one of the casements had
carefully surveyed them, as they were
seated in the postchaise. The same
aged man appeared at the inhospitable
gate, with the mastiff, lean as a greyhound,
by his side. He wagged his
tail when the general entered the Castle, Vol. I. M and M1v 242
and then fawned on him, who now recognized
in the half-starved animal, Rover,
grown very old, but the plump favourite
of former days.

General Douglas inquired directly after
sir James, and was informed he had
recovered considerably for the last two
days. He conjectured, therefore, that
his brother was not in any immediate
danger, as a change for the better was a
favourable symptom; and it was therefore
his intention to amuse himself in
shooting and traversing the scenes of his
early days, though the alterations which
had taken place since he was a youth inspired
him with melancholy sensations.

One old man and woman were all the
attendants sir James kept—a striking contrast
to his father’s establishment, whose
hall, at this time of the year, was thronged
with servants in rich liveries; and
the piper, in the ancient Scottish dress,
welcomed the stranger and traveller with
the cheerful though rough sound of his bagpipe. M2r 243
bagpipe. At this season the Castle was
formerly filled with company, and many
gentlemen, who came to shoot, as the
hills abounded with game, partridges,
blackcocks, dotterels, and other birds.

Mrs. Douglas was left alone, while
the general went to see his brother, and
a gloomy deep dejection chilled her
veins, as she sat solitary and pensive in
the dull room where he quitted her.
The small panes of the casements that
gave light to the apartment were rendered
more obscure by various cobwebs
that were suffered unmolested to remain,
and undisturbed dust covered the furniture
and walls, secure from the invading
broom of any notable housewife.

M2 Chap- M2v 244

Chapter VI.

“Oh, proud and madd’ning is the pleasure, When to my eyes thy form appears, All drest in nature’s winning treasure, Of blushing hopes and graceful fears; And while our bosoms wildly beating, A thousand nameless raptures prove, Our eyes in speechless transport meeting, Shall love to gaze, and gaze to love.” Robinson.

Three days had elapsed since the general
and Mrs. Douglas departed for
Scotland. During that interval their
daughters had received a visit from Mrs.
Fane
, and captain Burton and Courtenay
had called twice. The latter continued
to improve in the good opinion
of Rose, and her partiality made her
doubt the truth of every thing that Eustace
had averred to his prejudice. She judged M3r 245
judged it to proceed from a malignant
disposition, which disapproved hearing
the praise of another, and to a slanderous
propensity. The more she associated
with different characters, the more
she discovered, with concern, the prevalence
of slander, which is indeed too general.
Even those who give parties,
and received a great deal of company,
Miss Douglas remarked would frequently
backbite their visitors, which made
her more earnestly endeavour to check
the least approach to a vice so ungenerous.
The most trifling tendency therefore
to calumny was her aversion, and
she felt pleased that a person who, like
Eustace, was addicted to censure, had
left the country. Yet she regretted his
failing, from having been once prepossessed
in his favour, and sincerely wished
he might correct this evil propensity.

The knowledge of his absence from
doctor Wizzle’s encouraged them to accept
an invitation to drink tea at the M3 doctor’s, M3v 246
doctor’s, a visit they had long intended.
Captain Burton and his friend were to
accompany them, and they were much
gratified at no longer having to encounter
the sarcasms of the satirical Eustace.

Courtenay and Burton were punctual
to their engagement, and they commenced
their walk to Fairfield. Part of
this walk led by the river side, and the
remainder through a wood of small extent,
but picturesque and pleasing. The
sun was gradually sinking in the west,
and its faint rays lightly gilded the trees,
almost bare and leafless. A few remaining
leaves sometimes rustled down, and
strewed their path, announcing the approaching
conclusion of the year. The
woodland scene was occasionally varied
by clumps of tall firs, verdant laurels,
variegated hollies, and gloomy yew.

Had this rural walk been less agreeable,
still it would have charmed Rose,
as, leaning on Courtenay’s arm, she attentively
listened to his fascinating conversation,versation, M4r 247
which imparted a pleasing interest
to each surrounding object. Burton
and Jane walked with a quicker
pace before them, talking away, gay and
unconcerned, as no lurking passion created
in their bosoms the least anxiety or
perturbation.

Notwithstanding all Rose had heard
to the disadvantage of Courtenay, she
would not suffer one suspicious thought
to be disingenuously concealed in her
mind, or to flutter about her heart to his
discredit, and prevent her giving the
fullest scope to her confidence.

He mentioned that he found his residence
at Morrington Castle pleasant
enough, yet he did not feel so happy as
at Treharne, where he had Rose to welcome
him, when he had been absent, on
pleasure or on a shooting excursion. It
was so delightful, he observed, to be received
on returning home by a being one
values and esteems.

“The first evening of my absence,” M4 added M4v 248
added Courtenay, “I wished I could
have transported you to Morrington,
where your taste, accomplishments, and
cheerful conversation, would have given
a zest to the insipid society I was with.”

“I thought you were very partial to
her ladyship,”
answered Rose.

“When she is disposed to make herself
captivating, I like her very well, but
that is not so frequent as I could wish;
and she has a fault which displeases me
—it is a disposition to view with a jaundiced
eye the perfections of her own sex,
particularly if any attention or marked
affection is shewn and returned. For
instance, when I have been praising you,
she has either been silent, or expressed
her disapprobation, to my great disappointment,
as I should always like to
see goodness like yours followed by esteem,
as your good understanding and
propriety will never permit the most
attentive observer to question any part
of your conduct.”

"You M5r 249

“You are very indulgent,” replied
Rose“more so than I deserve; but I
do not expect to be regarded by every
person with the same favourable eye.
Satisfied with pleasing those whose good
opinion I justly estimate, I shall never
be uneasy because I am censured by indifferent
people.”

This subject was interrupted by their
arrival at doctor Wizzle’s, who saluted
them with his usual kindness. Doctor
Owen
, who now boarded with them, advanced
and said—“Really, ladies, it is
so long since I have seen you, that I was
afraid you were lost, dead, or what is
worse, forgotten me and this amiable
family; but I assure you, the proverb
‘out of sight out of mind’ had no
place in my breast, when applied to
such charming ladies. I have often
longed to be in the company of certain
persons; I know who, and I know
where—but mum!”

They all smiled at this ludicrous address;M5 dress; M5v 250
and Mrs. Wizzle requested Miss
Douglas
and her sister to divest themselves
of their bonnets and pelisses in
her daughter’s apartment, who she supposed
was now dressed.

Rose and Jane therefore followed Mrs.
Wizzle
, and discovered Miss Polly at her
toilet, grasping a tallow candle with both
hands, and rubbing it on her hair, instead
of a roll of pomatum, as she wore
powder. They found it difficult to preserve
a serious appearance at this sight,
and seated themselves patiently (at her
desire) till she was quite attired.

At length she descended with them
to the drawing-room, dressed in the
most gaudy style, elated with the hope
of attracting the admiration of the gentlemen.
A deep rose-coloured silk hat
ornamented her head, filled with artificial
flowers; and a clear muslin, over
a slip of the same gay tint, enveloped
her punchy form, shapeless as a barrel.
A long pink sash completed her shewy costume, M6r 251
costume, which made her look more
ordinary than she had ever appeared
before.

After tea, cards occupied the time till
supper, prepared at an early hour, which
they were obliged reluctantly to partake.

As they proceeded to the supper-room,
Rose accidentally turned her head, and
perceived, to her astonishment, Miss
Wizzle
, who remained behind the last,
pinching her sallow cheeks to produce a
colour. This the more surprised Miss
Douglas
, as she had frequently heard
Miss Wizzle find fault with a natural
bloom, saying it gave a vulgar look to
a female to have a colour, and that it
was more genteel for a lady to be pale.
She was sorry Miss Polly thought it
worth while to tell an untruth, and was
diverted with her being anxious to obtain
what nature had refused her.

A large roast pig was placed at the
head of the table, and two fowls at bottom.
The fowls were purchased by Mr. M6 Jerry M6v 252
Jerry
, who having carved them, helped
Miss Douglas and her sister to part: but
no sooner had they tasted what was on
their plates, than they found it impossible
to be eaten, it was so exceedingly
bitter; and poor Mr. Jerry discovered
the fowls had been rubbed all over with
aloes.

He could not conjecture who could
have played him this ill-natured trick,
not suspecting that it was a piece of revenge
performed by his sister, Miss Polly,
whom he had offended a few days
previous to the visit.

Well acquainted with his partiality
and respect for Miss Douglas, whom he
was anxious to please, and for that purpose
purchased the fowls, she meditated
this scheme of vengeance to mortify
him. But she was defeated, in a great
measure, in the consequence of her malicious
design, as the kindness of their
guests soothed his mortification, and obliterated
speedily the remembrance. The table M7r 253
table was liberally supplied, and they
had no want of provisions to regret.

After supper, singing was introduced,
and Miss Wizzle said to her father, who
had entertained them with one song—
“Sum up All, father—Sum up All.”

Their visitors were apprehensive, from
this speech, that she intended her father
should sing all the songs he knew, which
they dreaded, as a severe tax on their politeness,
the poor old doctor having, of
course, at his age, a wretched voice; but
they were greatly relieved by discovering
that Sum up All was the name
of one song he frequently amused his
visitors with.

Doctor Owen observed, when they
were taking leave, that he hoped to
have a specimen of their good-nature
when the general returned, in their consenting
to spend some evening with
him, as he had a drawing-room separate,
to receive any ladies who would do him
the honour to come and taste his tea and M7v 254
and sugar, which was a curiosity, being
twelve years old. He had left it in
England when he went to France, and
found it all untouched on his return.

Miss Wizzle, however, whispered that
it was not fit to drink. She was afraid
to express her disapprobation of it aloud,
as evidently she was exerting herself to
ensnare the wealthy doctor into the
matrimonial noose: but the old gentleman
was too well aware of female cunning
on these occasions, and too artful
himself to be easily gained. It was the
young and lovely of the fair sex that he
admired, having been a man of great
gallantry; but even the power of beauty
could not conquer his parsimonious nature,
which made him averse even to
the expence of a beautiful wife.

Captain Burton and Courtenay escorted
Miss Douglas and her sister back
to Treharne, where they had left their
horses.

Captain Courtenay lingered behind with Rose, M8r 255
Rose, as he thought this was the most
eligible opportunity he could have to
explicitly declare his attachment to her.
The night was fine, but obscure, and
the dim light favourable for concealing
their mutual emotion.

“You have passed a stupid evening,”
said Rose, “but we cannot do otherwise
than visit this family once every year,
as the good doctor Wizzle and his amiable
son Jerry shew us the greatest attention,
and perform many little offices
for my father, which are of great service
to him; and they think themselves highly
repaid, if we pass an evening at their
house.”

“Your being there,” rejoined Courtenay,
“made the entertainment delightful,
as the hours I pass in your sweet
society are the happiest of my life.
That innocent cheerfulness is a source
of pure pleasure, and I can no longer
disguise that I feel I truly love you,
and sincerely wish to be possessed of such M8v 256
such a wife. What a treasure will you
bestow on me, if you confide yourself
to my care! Speak then, and decide
my fate, and tell me if I am not disagreeable
to you?”

Rose hesitated. The declaration was
so abrupt and unexpected that she was
unprepared to answer, and remained silent
and agitated.

Again he urged her to own if she approved
him; and in faltering accents
she confessed, after some moments of
confusion, that she was pleased with his
attentions.

When he had attained this confession,
Courtenay thus continued to address
her—“If you grant the boon I ask,
yourself, my latest hour will bless you
for the gift. My birth I owe to a noble
family—my fortune chiefly to myself,
and I have yet to improve it. You will
marry a poor, but faithful and affectionate
heart. Some of my days have been
clouded with sorrow; but latterly the sun M9r 257
sun has brightened, and I trust to see it
setting with tranquillity, if I have a tender
and constant partner to share my
pleasures and pains. Confirm then my
happiness, and say you will soon be
mine!”

“I confide in the fidelity of your attachment,”
replied Rose, “and consent
to make you happy, provided that you
acquire my parents’ approbation and
blessing.”

“You seem to doubt me,” exclaimed
Courtenay, “by this caution. I trusted
you had some faith in the integrity of
my principles.”

“By thinking I doubt you, you
wrong me: but how can I give a decided
answer till I know the sentiments of
the best of fathers, and that my excellent
mother is pleased with you? To
prove my esteem, I request you will
write directly to Scotland, and I ardently
hope, if you love me as truly as you
profess, my father’s answer will be a confirmation M9v 258
confirmation of your wishes. I only
regret I have not known you longer.”

“Is it not possible for a rational being,”
continued Courtenay, in an angry
tone, “to distinguish in a few days
(much more weeks) the real worth
and character? Long solicitations of
marriage are insufferable: it appears as
if lovers distrusted their mutual fidelity.
How easy do we distinguish the salubrious
herb from the rank poison—the
sweet fruit from the bitter!—Why then
should we not know our own fellowcreatures?
But enough of arguments—
I will flatter myself with hope, since
you confess I am not displeasing to you;
and your parents, who have seen the
world, have too enlightened minds to
nourish your prejudices, and are superior,
I am convinced, to the narrow
judgment of the multitude.”

As Courtenay ceased speaking, they
reached Treharne. Jane and captain
Burton
had arrived half an hour before, as M10r 259
as their interesting conversation had
made them loiter behind.

When Courtenay and his friend wished
the sisters good-night, the former
said, in a low voice—“I hope soon to
renew our last subject, that we discussed
with so much interest this evening, and
that your ideas will be more liberal on a
candid view.”

They were no sooner alone than Rose
prepared, as usual, to retire to their apartment,
as she felt fatigued, and wished
likewise to reflect on what had passed,
which she could easily do when she retired
to rest (though not to court repose),
as Jane generally fell asleep directly,
and left her to quietly enjoy her
reflections. But Rose was not allowed
to ruminate on the events of the evening;
Jane said, when she attempted to
go up stairs, that she was neither weary
or sleepy, and entreated she would sit
up an hour later.—“I think it so much
lost time,”
she observed, “to sink mymyselfself M10v 260
in dead oblivion, losing half the
moments of too short a life before nature
requires it.”

“To oblige you,” replied Rose, “I
will remain an hour longer, though
against my inclination: but let us dismiss
the servants first, as they rise early,
and require to retire earlier to repose
than we do.”

Accordingly she touched the bell, and
informed Kamira, who answered it, that
Robin, Dolly, and herself, might go directly
to bed, if they had fastened up
the house.

Kamira assured her that every place
had been secured, except the hall-door,
some hours, and that was now just bolted
and barred.

Rose dismissed her, and listened to
Jane’s account of a love-letter she had
received from the count de Fontenai,
who was in despair at not having seen
her for several days, as he was informed
the young ladies were not to receive any company, M11r 261
company, except very particular friends,
during the general’s absence. The marquis
de Monclair
had never written, she
remarked; therefore it proved, with all
his professions, that he did not choose
to commit them to writing, and had not
so much affection for her as the count.

Rose replied, that she was exactly of
the same opinion, and that she admired
a man who had love enough to risk his
sentiments in writing. How infinitely
superior to the mean suspicious being
who dares not acknowledge with his pen
the affection he has frequently avowed!

Having indulged Jane with chatting
as long as was agreeable to her, Rose
took the candle, and ascending the stairs,
her sister followed. They had just reached
the middle of the staircase, near a
window that looked over the river, when
a strong light flashed so bright and suddenly
across their eyes, that Rose started,
and in the astonishment and terror
of the moment let the candle fall, and it M11v 262
it was extinguished. The night was
very dark and cold; but a faint glimmer
seemed still to shine near the window.

When they were recovered from their
surprise, they approached to discern what
it was, and perceived a large body of
light by that part of the river where
the boat was moored. It appeared as if
two or three persons were holding torches
by the water side.

“It cannot be any one who wishes to
see us waiting there,”
exclaimed Rose
“or they would sound the bugle, which
is placed near the boat purposely to announce
the arrival of visitors; and I
should not imagine any one would call
so late at night, unless it were my brother
returned unexpectedly, a happiness
that would reward us for all our fears.
However, I cannot hope that the lights
are caused by that fortunate event, as he
would certainly loudly acquaint us with
his approach, by blowing the horn, and
crossing over without ceremony.”

While M12r 263

While they formed this, and many
other conjectures, the lights began to
move, and forming two distinct bodies,
glided along by the side of the river, to
a very great distance, as far as the eye
could reach, and disappeared.

With the vanishing of the lights, they
lost all hope of seeing Felix, and now
groped in the dark till they found their
way to their bedchamber. Not a star
beamed in the sky—all was deeply obscure
and gloomy; and they were saying
how very dismal and uncomfortable it
was to undress without a candle, when
the room became suddenly illuminated.

They ran to the window, and beheld
the same lights moving rapidly, and
fiercely blazing, like a bundle of wood
on fire. Sometimes they were elevated
five feet from the ground, hovered near
the river, and at length melted into air,
emitting sparks of flame.

“How do you explain this appearance,ance, M12v 264
which we have never seen before?”

said Jane, with a tremulous voice.

“Do not alarm yourself,” replied
Rose, “as I hear, by the sound of your
voice, that you are frightened. I believe
the lights are only Will with a
Wisp
, or, as it is sometimes called, Jack
with a Lantern
. Two of these lights are
not commonly seen, but I have heard
my mother relate they have been discovered,
but rarely, and more in foreign
countries than in England. I cannot
account for this luminous appearance in
any other manner, as I have heard they
shine more at a distance than near, and
haunt marshy places. The bank of the
river, where it emitted most fire, was on
the side where it is damp and covered
with reeds. I wish we had gone to bed
directly we came home, and then we
should not have been disturbed, and
creeping about in the dark. Another
time I will not indulge you with gossipinging N1r 265
so late, when we are left with only
the servants in the house.”

“Nor will I ask you,” added Jane,
“unless my father and mother are at
home. We are so solitary and lonely
in this old mansion without them, that
I feel alarmed at every noise. It was so
cheerful with Burton and Courtenay
Oh, how I wish they were here!”

They spoke no more; but Sleep with
his leaden sceptre did not approach so
soon as they expected. The appearance
of the lights and thinking about it kept
them awake for some time, till these reflections
were lost in additional subjects
of terror.

The heavy trampling of horses on the
road near the house first attracted their
attention. This was succeeded by fast
galloping; and as the last sound of the
horses’ hoofs resounded on the ear, they
seemed to be pursued equally fast by
another party, and several pistols were
discharged.

Vol. I. N Any N1v 266

Any further attempt to sleep was impossible
and useless. Through the murky
darkness that veiled all around, they
perceived the flash of fire-arms, and
heard the clashing of swords, with hoarse
and angry voices, mingling with the
howling blast, for the wind blew loud
and shrill. The obscurity that clouded
every surrounding object prevented
them from discerning any thing clearly,
and Jane exclaimed, that she was apprehensive
they were a gang of robbers going
to attack the mansion.

“If they enter the house,” continued
the affrighted girl, “what will become
of us, with only old Robin for a protector?
I think we had better go and call
him up.”

Rose assented, and endeavoured to
calm her, while they threw on their
wrapping gowns. Knowing that he slept
in one of the attics, near his daughter
and Kamira, they opened the door to
proceed thither, when they observed a light N2r 267
light gleam from the lower staircase.
Concluding to a certainty that it was
Robin, or one of the maids, who, alarmed
like themselves, had got up, and was
going to the kitchen, they followed the
welcome light.

It moved with such rapidity, that they
could not overtake it, and therefore called
Robin. But no answer being returned,
they repeated the name of Kamira
and Dolly. Still all was silent—no friendly
voice re-echoed to theirs; but they
continued to pursue the light, which
moved so quickly from them, though
they walked fast, that they could not
distinguish the person who carried it.

At length it led them to the top of
the stairs conducting to the damp extensive
cellars underneath, where it totally
vanished, leaving them in impenetrable
darkness. The stillness of night
was only interrupted at that gloomy moment
by plaintive moans and lamentations,
mingled with voices, that all seemeded N2v 268
to issue from the hollow mouldy
vaults beneath.

Jane shrieked aloud, and fainted on
the ground, while her sister endeavoured
to save her from falling.

Rose now felt really terrified; she did
not like to quit Jane, who was quite insensible,
and cold as ice, and, as her only
prospect of relief, loudly vociferated the
name of Robin.

End of Vol.I.

Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-street, London.