A1r

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. III.

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

A1v omittedlibrary stamp
B1r

The
Esquimaux.

Chapter I.

“Yet I still lov’d this burning pile, For here I gazed upon his smile; ’Twas sweet along the torrent’s side To watch his coming shadow glide.” V.

Mrs. Douglas possessed considerable
resolution and fortitude, yet during the
interval before her son and daughters
made their appearance, her mind was agitated
so cruelly, that it was in a condition
nearly approaching to distraction. In a
shorter period, however, than she could
have expected, though it appeared long to
her maternal bosom, she had the delightfulVol. III. B ful B1v 2
satisfaction of beholding them on the
Hall steps. Accompanied by her excellent
friend, Mr. Moncrief, they entered
the boat, and were soon clasped in her
arms. Words are inadequate to describe
her sensations of happiness, from the severe
shock and terror, on their account, that
she had sustained.

After Mr. Moncrief had landed them on
the bank, he returned for the servants, and
conveyed them safely from the house to
the other side of the river. Felix, Rose,
and Jane, had secured what they considered
most valuable; yet, had they escaped
without saving any thing from the devouring
flames, their mother would have been
contented, since their lives were spared.
Robin had conveyed likewise from the
mansion a box of plate, which he placed
for security in the postchaise.

In the meantime the postillion returned,
after having spread the report of the fire
and summoned assistance. A numerous
concourse of people were soon assembled, and B2r 3
and by their activity, and the quantity of
water near, with their persevering exertions,
the fire began to burn less furiously.
The firemen arrived shortly after from Exeter,
and by their zeal and perseverance
succeeded in extinguishing the flames, and
half only of the building was destroyed.

Before the conflagration was subdued,
Mrs. Douglas proposed going to the house
of her friend, Mrs. Fane, who was expected
from London in a week, and requested
Mr. Moncrief to accompany them. But
this worthy man declined attending them,
observing that he was determined to remain
with her servants, to watch and
guard their property from depredation.
He promised, however, to be with her in
the morning to breakfast.

Most fortunately for Mrs. Douglas, she
found all Mrs. Fane’s household up, the
alarm of the fire at Treharne having reached
them, and roused the whole family.

The butler was an old servant, and B2 knowing B2v 4
knowing how much his mistress was attached
to Mrs. Douglas, was gone to her
house to offer his services, but in the confusion
he was unobserved by her. Beds
were soon prepared, as they had all been,
aired, and the apartments arranged, in expectation
of their mistress’s speedy return.

Mrs. Douglas, quite exhausted with fatigue
and anxiety, retired immediately to
repose her wearied frame, and her example
was imitated by her son and daughters.
They slept soundly, being quite overcome
with the agitation they had suffered, and
did not awake till Mr. Moncrief made them
a visit.

When they met at breakfast, he imparted
the pleasing intelligence of the fire being
quite extinguished, as all danger of
the flames bursting out again was now removed.
The wing of the building which
was generally uninhabited, was the only
part of the structure totally destroyed.
When Mr. Moncrief left Treharne, the servants B3r 5
servants were going to enjoy a little rest,
after their excessive fatigue, in that part
of the mansion that was yet habitable.

Felix and his sisters admired the animation
and zealous ardour displayed on
this occasion by Mr. Moncrief, of whom
Mrs. Douglas had spoken in the highest
terms. To serve the wife and family of
his friend, the general, he had endured extreme
trouble and fatigue. Under an exterior,
cold, forbidding, and formal, he
veiled the most noble heart that ever
graced the human breast. He was, as the
Scotch nation are in general, when they
form a friendship, the most warm and ardent
of friends.

Mrs. Douglas spoke with enthusiasm of
the inhabitants of North Britain in general.
Some of them were worthless characters,
as must be expected, among so
large a body of people; but the generality,
she affirmed, were hospitable, virtuous,
friendly, and strict in their principles;
they were to be firmly depended on, in B3 every B3v 6
every transaction. She had often heard
them despised and ridiculed for their economy,
but it was frequently a proper frugality
and prudence, that enabled them, by
not impoverishing their fortune with profusion,
to assist their friends in adversity.

But Mr. Moncrief had not one narrow
sentiment—his hand, his heart, his purse,
were at the service of his friends. General
Douglas
and himself were boys together
at the same school, and as they advanced
in years, their friendship grew
with them. Their regard continued till
the general’s duty as an officer called him
to a foreign country.

A short time afterwards, Mr. Moncrief
went to the East Indies, where he acquired
a princely fortune, which, united to the
small estates left him by his father, formed
altogether a very handsome income.
He purchased a valuable domain, in the
neighbourhood of sir James Douglas’s seat,
where the general and himself renewed
on discovering they were neighbours, the friendship B4r 7
friendship of their early days. It was a
lucky circumstance for general Douglas,
from the events that had lately happened
in Scotland, which made the advice and
society of a sincere friend a soothing consolation.

Mrs. Douglas and her husband seemed
destined to experience the utmost severity
of affliction, as the incidents to be related
will prove.

Sir James appeared to be more attached
to his brother than he had ever been to
any thing before, and the longer he was
with him, he was apparently most affectionate,
much more than it was possible to
imagine so avaricious and contracted a
mind could be. But the truth was, that
his tedious and severe illness had made
him reflect seriously. He had no other
near relation, who evinced the least interest
for his welfare; and on the continued
bed of sickness he felt how helpless and
dependent a creature man is. How superior
he found the attentive kindness of B4 a relative B4v 8
a relative, who is capable of attachment, to
the attendance of a hireling!

In consequence of these just reflections,
he made a will in his brother general
Douglas’s
favour, attested by proper witnesses,
in which he bequeathed all his personal
property, and every thing he possessed,
to him and his family. A few
days after, sir James expired in the arms
of his brother, blessing him and his wife
with his latest breath, for the gentle, amiable
conduct of Mrs. Douglas had gained
his esteem and regard.

The general, now sir Felix Douglas,
took possession of his brother’s bequest,
and intended, when his affairs were arranged,
to send for his family to the Castle.
It was his intention to make great
improvements at Towie Craigs, the ancient
residence of his ancestors for some hundreds
of years back, and to reside there
half the year.

One day, when these thoughts occupied
his mind, he was interrupted by the servant’svant’s B5r 9
announcing that a gentleman wished
to speak with him immediately, on
particular business. Always easy of access,
sir Felix desired him to be introduced.

A short thick man, dressed in black,
with an awkward stooping gait, was now
admitted. He bowed so profoundly,
that his head nearly touched the ground.
His countenance expressed the deepest
cunning, and his small grey eyes were
sunk beneath their heavy lids.—“I am
sorry, sir,”
said he, bowing low again,
as he approached, “to be obliged to communicate
evil tidings, for I presume you
are not aware that there is another person
claims the estate of the late sir James,
to which you consider yourself the lawful
heir.”

Sir Felix looked astonished, and then
replied—“I should indeed be grieved to
learn that my brother had acted with duplicity
to me in his dying moments. If
he has, the deception is unpardonable, and
it would more sensibly afflict me, that he B5 should B5v 10
should have practised deceit at that awful
hour, than all I may suffer from the loss
of his fortune. I must, however, request
to be acquainted with the name of the
person who wishes to deprive me of the
property sir James bequeathed to me and
my children, and by what right he intends
to dispossess me of the estates.”

“He demands the fortune of the late
sir James Douglas,”
rejoined Mr. Graham,
the attorney, with repeated low bows, “as
his son and heir; and his mother likewise
claims her part, as his father’s wife.”

At these words sir Felix felt struck as
with a mortal blow. It was not for himself,
but for his loved wife and children,
that he shuddered at the deprivation of
the fortune he had so long expected to receive;
his brother’s bequest appeared to
have rewarded him for his past sufferings,
by allowing him to make his wife and
children comfortable and happy. In the
well-founded expectation of this property,
he had also expended more money than he B6r 11
he should otherwise have done, and liberally
lent a brother-officer some hundreds,
moved at his being in distress, with a
young family to support.

Having recovered his composure, after
a pause of some minutes in which his expressive
face denoted the inward emotion
of his soul, he calmly inquired where this
wife and child resided, whom he now heard
mentioned for the first time?

Mr. Graham replied, again bowing very
low, which mockery of respect quite disgusted
sir Felix, from the messenger of
such ill news, that his honour, the late sir
James
, was privately married, about nine
years ago, to Helen Ramsay, by whom he
had one son, named James, and that she
lived in a cottage near the Castle, with
her mother and child. Before his last illness,
sir James often visited them, and
gave Helen money at different times,
which amply provided for their maintenance;
yet he continued from year to year
to put off the public declaration of his B6 marriage. B6v 12
marriage. When Helen’s situation, in
consequence of her union with sir James,
was made known to him, he dismissed her
from the Castle, where she resided as one
of his servants. Helen repaired to her
mother’s cottage. There she was confined,
and her infant was supposed by the neighbours
to be the natural son of a Davie
M’Gregor
, a young man who worked as
a labourer in sir James’s grounds. To
oblige his master, he pretended to be the
father of the little boy, as sir James was
then desirous that his marriage with a servant
should be kept a secret till after his
decease. Davie consequently decamped,
to avoid the disgrace and punishment that
attend affairs of this description in Scotland,
and was accounted the parent of
Helen’s child, for which unmerited stigma
he received a sum of money from his master.

The general, as we shall again call him
(for he instantly dropped the title of baronet),
inquired the name of the clergymanman B7r 13
who had united his brother to Helen
Ramsay
, and his present residence.

Mr. Graham then informed him that
the last intelligence he had received of
his being living was from Edinburgh,
where he resided in Castle-street. He was
named Murray, and had given Helen a
certificate of her marriage, attested by him
and other witnesses, who were, unluckily,
likewise absent; but this certificate Helen
carefully preserved.

The general observed, that the whole of
this tale appeared to him very improbable
and mysterious, adding, that he should
not certainly resign his claim of right to
the estates and property bequeathed him
by his brother, till he had thoroughly investigated
the entire transaction of this
singular affair, which, he must confess,
caused him a great share of uneasiness.

Mr. Graham, with a hypocritical face,
now took leave, saying, he hoped the general
would not be offended with him,
who had no further interest in the businessness B7v 14
than being merely employed by the
widow as her solicitor.

Immediately after his departure, general
Douglas
rode over to Lochnell, to his
friend Moncrief. He related all that passed
with the attorney, and consulted with
him in what manner to act for the best.

Mr. Moncrief instantly conceived this
story to be a complete fabrication, and
deep plot, to obtain possession of sir James
Douglas’s
property, or to extort money.
Had the general offered the lawyer a considerable
sum, he doubted not that he
would have consented directly to hush up
the business. Graham, he informed him,
was quite a pettifogger, and bore the character
of being often guilty of the most
dishonourable actions, if his interest was
concerned: but he trusted that they should
be enabled to unmask the knave, and
worthless woman his tool.

General Douglas and Mr. Moncrief repaired
together to the cottage that had
been described by Mr. Graham, and were received B8r 15
received by Helen Ramsay, a tall, rawboned,
dark woman, with hard features.
Her son was with her, very unlike his mother,
having coarse red hair, a fair skin, exceedingly
freckled, and dressed in ragged
attire.

Helen was closely questioned by the general
and Mr. Moncrief, but she persisted
without variation in the truth of her story,
and produced a dirty piece of paper,
signed by Mr. Murray, as an evidence of
the legality of her marriage.

“But I am astonished,” said Mr. Moncrief,
“that if you were, as you profess to
be, the wife of the late sir James, that you
did not insist on being clothed and maintained
more respectably.”

Helen answered, that all the country
were all acquainted with his stinginess,
which made him grudge the least expence.
He had many a time mentioned, that the
reason he did not take her home, and introduce
her as his wife, was from the apprehension
of expending more money. Frequently B8v 16
Frequently he lamented having committed
himself by marrying her, as it was very
expensive to assist her and pay for the
support of his boy.

Finding nothing satisfactory could be
obtained from Helen, who was apparently
artful, bold, and wicked, they left the
cottage, both convinced that the late sir
James
had more taste than to have exposed
himself from the attachment for this
low, ugly, cunning woman.

“We must set out for Edinburgh,”
said Mr. Moncrief, “and endeavour to
have an interview with the clergyman,
who, Helen affirms, married her to sir
James
, as it appears to me a tale of mystery.
Your brother’s chief fault was a
miserly propensity, but his character never
appeared to me to be the least deceptious.
A good fortune should not, therefore,
be tamely resigned, till a proper investigation
has taken place.”

The general now observed to his friend,
that as this unfortunate affair would probablyably B9r 17
keep him a long time separated from
Mrs. Douglas, it was much his wish for
her to return to his daughters, from whom
they had both been so long absent. As
his title to the Castle and estates was now
disputed, he was particularly averse to her
remaining there alone. It was his intention,
he continued, if this cause proved fatal,
to go to London with his family, as it
would be necessary, if his fortune received
so severe a blow, to remind his friends that
he was in existence. Some of his intimate
acquaintance, that he had not met with for
many years, had it in their power to forward
his son’s promotion as an officer.
General Douglas likewise mentioned, that
in the event of losing his brother’s fortune,
he should endeavour to procure some situation
under government for himself, as one
of his intimate friends, who was generally
resident in London, had great influence
with the minister. The only objection he
had to this plan was, that he felt an uneasiness
at the idea of suffering Mrs. Douglas,las, B9v 18
from whom he had never been long separated
since their marriage, to travel so
far without a companion.

Mr. Moncrief desired his friend not to
let that be an obstacle to his wishes, as he
would himself attend Mrs. Douglas, having
business in England, which he intended
to transact there in a few months, and
by accompanying his lady, it was only dispatching
it a little sooner.

The general replied, that he had greatly
relieved his mind by this friendly offer,
which, from his representation, he should
not scruple to accept, not suspecting it was
only a kind invention of Mr. Moncrief’s
to serve him.

A few days after this conversation, they
all set off together for Edinburgh, where
Mr. Moncrief and Mrs. Douglas left the
general to search out the clergyman, Mr.
Murray
, and consult one of his most eminent
advocates respecting the contested estates,
and proceeded together to England.

Before they quitted Towie Craigs, Sandydy B10r 19
and Maggie had been questioned by
them. Their opinion was asked relative
to the marriage, and both these old domestics
said they were certain that the whole
story was an invention; they suspected
that the villanous attorney had persuaded
Helen Ramsay and her mother to pretend
she was married to sir James, and the child
his, when it was undoubtedly the baseborn
offspring of Davie M’Gregor and Helen.
The old woman added, that Helen
Ramsay
had only been hired to assist when
sir James had formerly a dangerous fit of
illness, and she remembered often seeing
her very familiar with Davie.—“Let my
master have what faults he might,”
said
Maggie, “I am sure he would not have
demeaned himself with such a dirty slattern;
and if they could find poor Davie,
he would tell the truth, for he was an upright
lad then, drawn out of the right road
by that Maypole wench.”
Maggie doubted
not, if they found Davie, that he would
clear all up, but they must be sure to promisemise B10v 20
him that he should not be brought to
disgrace on account of the child, nor be
forced to pay for maintaining it, as he was
a needy lad, and of a downcast bashful temper.
The little boy, Maggie said, favoured
Davie much, whose head was as red as
a carrot, and he was not in the least like
her master’s family.

The general assured her they would
handsomely reward Davie, if he discovered
Helen Ramsay’s and the attorney’s wickedness
and deception; and they drove
from the Castle, with the old woman’s ardent
wishes for their success, and that they
might defeat Graham and Helen’s schemes.

When Mrs. Douglas had been two days
at Mrs. Fane’s, Mr. Moncrief proposed to
her (as it was the general’s wish that they
should soon go to London) to take the
opportunity of his being with them, to settle
herself there in a house or lodgings.
The fire at Treharne had deprived them for
the present of a home, and he judged, from
the conversation that had passed, that his friend B11r 21
friend would prefer their going to town
from that circumstance. In the critical
situation of their affairs, he would certainly
be unwilling they should engage another
residence in the country.

His society and advice was the greatest
advantage to the wife and children of his
friend, as the former, from having been so
long absent from the metropolis, was almost
a stranger to it. She had only visited
it occasionally before she was married,
at the most fashionable season of the year,
which was so long a period since, that it
was nearly the same as never having resided
there. The faithful and affectionate
Kamira was to travel with them, but Robin
and Dolly were to be left at Treharne
till their mistress received the general’s orders
respecting them, and if the old mansion
was to be repaired. Mrs. Douglas
was likewise anxious to be in town before
Mrs. Fane quitted it, that she might apologize
for having been at her habitation, and B11v 22
and explain the necessity that obliged her
to intrude without permission.

Although Mrs. Douglas considered that
friendship required no outward ceremony,
yet she did not think it should supersede
the necessity of good-breeding, as
well as good-humour, and that politeness
ought to be maintained with the most intimate
friends. Such best, she thought,
evinced an equal steady mind, and rendered
friendship permanent.

Rose had confided to her mother the
principal events that had occurred since
her departure for Scotland. She did not
even conceal the perfidy and violent conduct
of her once-esteemed Courtenay.

Indescribable horror affected Mrs. Douglas
at this description of her sufferings.
Yet while she expressed her sorrow at Rose
having been subjected to such insult and
cruelty, she was grateful to Providence
that had saved her persecuted child from
the ruin that hovered over her. She rejoicedjoiced B12r 23
at the marriage of the man who
would have been her destruction, as it rescued
her daughter from additional importunity.
What happiness did the reflection
impart, that Courtenay was become an
object of indifference to Rose!—time and
the remembrance of his ungenerous behaviour
having healed the wound that his
infidelity had caused to lacerate her affectionate
bosom. With the character of the
brave, the amiable sir Eglamour Delavalle,
she was quite charmed. She relied on the
delineation of his good qualities described
by Felix, as it was impartial; but she
could not so well have depended on her
daughter’s account, which might be influenced
by partiality.

The altered appearance of Jane, and her
dejection, made her very unhappy; otherwise,
the improvement in her temper and
manners would have been productive of
the purest satisfaction. A distrust of
something wrong having happened in her
absence pervaded her penetrating mind. From B12v 24
From this presentiment, she was apprehensive
of discovering some painful incident
relating to her youngest daughter,
and seldom spoke of her to her other children.
In tenderness, the fondest mother
could not surpass Mrs. Douglas, who redoubled
her kindness to Jane, and paid
unwearied attention to her health.

This unaltered affection had a powerful
effect on the mind of her daughter, as it
removed all the terror that pressed heavily
before, from the apprehension of her mother’s
being acquainted with her imprudence.
Apparently she had no suspicion
of any impropriety having taken place
while she was at Towie Craigs, and this
consoling idea was beneficial to the health
of Jane. Mrs. Douglas was also bewildered
in conjectures respect the fire at Treharne.
At length she concluded it must
have originated with the ruffians who
were employed to carry off Rose and Kamira,
as there was probably, as her daughter
suspected, a communication from the cavern C1r 25
cavern by the sea-shore to the one near the
old mansion. Treachery, she felt assured,
had caused the flames to burst out in the
uninhabited turret, and to burn such a
considerable part of the building, which
she regretted, from its having been the
abode of her ancestors time immemorial.
She was convinced the fire must have been
purposely kindled there, as no combustible
matter, or even a light, had been placed in
it for a week before. Notwithstanding her
partiality to Treharne and its environs, she
would not have wished to reside there
again (supposing no accident had injured
the building), unless her husband was with
her, and the mysterious and alarming
noises her children had heard were explained.
From the horrible scenes Rose
had encountered, she could not endure the
thoughts of living there, unless the entrance
from the cavern was so secured as
to shut out any intruder.

Jane’s maternal sensations at the prospect
of quitting her child were painfully
acute. However, she had the pleasing Vol. III C consolation C1v 26
consolation of leaving it with the good and
careful dame Brownson. Guilford, who
had been to see it, promised, when he answered
her letter informing him of her
intended journey to town, that he would
never desert his lovely child, in whom he
felt great interest; and as he was to remain
in Devonshire, would acquaint her
frequently with its health and welfare.

Chapter II.

“By fortune’s touch affection’s ore we trace, Or find of friendship the metallic base; As zinc from brass, when urg’d by heat departs, Truth sends the glitt’ring gloss from brazen hearts. Taught by this test, we learn how sordid clay May all the hues of precious gems display; But soon misfortune’s furnace flame condemns To dust or poison’d fume the mimic gems. Seem rich, if friends and joys like these allure; If thou wouldst prove their emptiness, seem poor.”

Rose now wrote to sir Eglamour, who
had not yet sailed, requesting him to discontinue
addressing letters to her till she had C2r 27
had written again, when their place of
residence in London would be fixed. Jane
had yielded to her persuasions to avoid a
parting interview with the sweet infant,
as her agitation in consequence might be
perceived by their mother, and alarm her.
To console her sister, and reconcile Jane
to this separation from her child, Rose
promised, that immediately after she became
the wife of sir Eglamour, she would
take it under her own protection. By this
plan its mother could see it continually,
and watch its improvement.

“But it makes me very melancholy,”
said Jane, “to reflect that my darling
girl will never lisp its mother’s name;
only regard me as a stranger.”

“Let us not be eager to anticipate afflictions,”
replied Rose: “by often seeing
you, and receiving your caresses, it will be
as much attached as if it knew you were
its parent. Remember, you might 3 to 4 lettersflawed-reproduction
never seen it, if Guilford had been disposed
to take it away.”

C2 Rose C2v 28

Rose said this to calm her grief, and
went soon after to embrace the little Caroline,
for the last time before they left the
country. She fondly kissed its rosy lips,
and embraced its cherub form. A tear of
fond affection bedewed its velvet cheek
while it slept; and when it awoke, Caroline
smiled, and expressed, in infantine
sounds of delight, her joy at seeing her
aunt, who often nursed and danced her
about.

Dame Brownson, who witnessed her
emotion as she gazed on her innocent face,
exclaimed—“Do not make yourself uneasy,
dear young lady, for you may depend
on my being more careful of this
darling beloved child, than if she was my
granddaughter.”

The simple assertion of this good woman,
that she would assiduously guard it
with attentive and watchful affection, relieved
the anxiety of Rose respecting its
fate. She returned home, and gave a
pleasing description to Jane of dame Brownson’s C3r 29
Brownson’s
attachment to Caroline. Afterwards
they walked to Treharne, to take
a parting look of the ancient mansion.
Its ruined dilapidated appearance Rose
viewed with regret. She was attached to
this spot, which looked more romantic
from its being apparently in a state of decay,
washed by the silver waters of the river,
and placed at the bottom of a beautiful
valley. Here she had experienced
the keenest sorrow; but here also she had
tasted the purest pleasure, and the sweet
happiness of being beloved by the man of
her heart, who was deserving the most
exalted love.

Rose, in compliance with her mother’s
request, informed Robin and Dolly that
they should not be absent more than a
year; but should any unexpected circumstance
protract their stay in London to a
longer period, they might depend on the
general’s sending for them to come up, and
reside in his family as usual.

Young Dolly and old Robin were C3 equally C3v 30
equally delighted with this promise. In
his youth, this venerable domestic had occasionally
visited the metropolis with the
late lord Treharne, but his continuance
there was generally only for a few weeks;
his lordship was always afraid that his simplicity
might be imposed on by designing
characters, and never allowed him to accompany
him but when he expected to
remain a very short time in town. Robin
was nevertheless delighted at the idea
of revisiting the scenes, though transitory,
of his youthful days, which he recollected
with satisfaction, when health glowed in
every vein, and each object was new and
pleasing.

Dolly also, who had never seen any
other city than Exeter, was eager to behold
a place that she had been told had so
many curiosities in it, where the gentlefolks
were dressed in gold, silver, and jewels,
with golden carriages, and all sorts of
beautiful things and fine sights. They
both promised to take great care of what remained C4r 31
remained of the old mansion, and to keep
the garden in good order. Dolly said she
would water Miss Douglas’s flowers, and
be very careful of her greenhouse plants
and hermitage.

Rose replied that she should bring her
some present from London, to reward her
diligence, and doubted not that when the
general’s affairs were settled, and he had
leisure to think about it, that he would
directly have the Hall repaired, and they
should all return when it was again made
comfortable.

Mr. Moncrief having engaged four places
in the mail that proceeded from Exeter to
London, the whole party commenced their
journey, for Felix and Kamira preferred
travelling on the outside of the coach.
The time passed very agreeably, as Mr.
Moncrief
was a sensible and entertaining
companion. When they were within a
few miles of their place of destination, he
amused them with a description of Scotland
and the Hebrides. Rose observed, C4 that C4v 32
that she should like to visit North-Britain
and the Western Isles.

“Would your curiosity, my fair friend”,
replied Mr. Moncrief, “extend your journey
to St. Kilda, the most remote and unfrequented
of all the Hebrides? If you
chose to write an account of your visit and
observations on these isles, there is little
doubt but it would be narrated with doctor
Johnson’s
purity of language, but infinitely
more favourable to its picturesque
scenery and peaceable inhabitants. Perhaps
you will think me not quite accurate
in talking of rural scenery, where, as doctor
Johnson
says, a tree might be a shew
in Scotland, as a horse in Venice.”

“This want of foliage,” said Rose,
“would be reconcileable to me, if upon experience
I should find what is reported of
these islanders to be true—that they are
a race of people uncorrupted in their manners,
and therefore the least unhappy of
any perhaps on the face of the whole
earth.”

“They C5r 33

“They live together,” rejoined Mr.
Moncrief
, “in the greatest simplicity of
heart—in the most inviolable harmony and
union of sentiments. They have neither
silver or gold, but barter among themselves
for the few necessaries they may
reciprocally want. To strangers they are
extremely hospitable, and no less charitable
to their own poor, for whose relief each
family in the island contributes its share
monthly, and at every festival sends them
besides a portion of mutton or beef. Both
sexes have a genius for poetry, and compose
not only songs, but pieces of a more
elevated turn, in their own language, which
is very emphatical. It was here Aurelius
sought refuge from the cruelty and insolence
of his enemies. But I am interrupted
—but not, like Mr. Grattan (when
he closed his celebrated speech on the Catholic
question), exhausted. Here is Hyde
Park Corner
, and you will certainly prefer
looking about you at this busy scene to
listening to my dull details.”

C5 “Your C5v 34

“Your conversation is too interesting
and entertaining,”
replied Rose, “for dulness
to approach; and I only regret that
you have ceased your account of the Hebrides,
from a kind wish that I may receive
greater amusement. This is a cheerful,
pleasing entrance into London.”

As the mail-coach drove furiously up
Piccadilly, Jane observed, that all the
people in town seemed in good-humour,
and were either smiling or laughing.

“They are not one particle the more
good-natured for this jocular appearance,”

exclaimed Mr. Moncrief. “Idle and
thoughtless in general, they endeavour to
catch amusement from each passing object.
Follow them into retirement, and
you will find those who appear most merry
devoured with spleen, morose, and sullen.
The broad grin is not the countenance
of happiness.”

From the mail, they were conveyed in
a hackney-coach to lodgings in South
Audley-street
. Mr. Moncrief had written to C6r 35
to an acquaintance to engage them for Mrs.
Douglas
, till she found it convenient to
provide herself with another habitation.
The master of the house was a respectable
tradesman, lately married, who kept a shop
in Bond street, and lived at this private
residence, attending the shop during the
day. Mrs. Linn, his wife, informed Mrs.
Douglas
that they had only one lodger
besides their family. The gentleman was
a German nobleman, about forty, who had
resided at Brussels, until the French army
entered that city, and deprived him of
nearly the whole of his property.

Mr. Moncrief had desired his acquaintance
to select some situation near Hyde
Park
for the residence of his friends. He
considered, that as they came from the
pure air of the country, the change was
very great, and it was necessary they
should be near a fine open place for their
morning walks. When Mr. Moncrief had
comfortably settled them in their present
abode, he took an affectionate leave, and C6 departed C6v 36
departed to join his friend at Edinburgh.
Previously he advised Mrs. Douglas, as
she was in respectable good lodgings, not
to be precipitate in quitting them, for any
trifling cause, till she could provide herself
with a house which would completely
suit her in all respects, and that she would
not be in haste to remove, as frequent removals
were troublesome, dangerous, and
expensive. Mrs. Douglas assured him
she would be guided by his advice, from
the high opinion she had of his judgment
and understanding.

The report of sir James Douglas’s death,
and that he had left the general heir to his
possessions, was quickly diffused among
all their connexions. Many persons who
had but a slight acquaintance with the
general and his lady left their cards, eager
to visit them, now they were considered
as wealthy. Those who imagined they
had inherited a splendid fortune were astonished
at not finding them in magnificent
lodgings. They expressed their wonder,der, C7r 37
when they left them, to each other,
at their living so retired, and not assuming
the title, as Mrs. Douglas in that
case was lady Douglas. However, they
thought proper to conjecture, that as probably
they had not yet received much
money, the general and his lady wished to
live in retirement till their affairs were
quite arranged, and they could introduce
their children into the fashionable world
with great eclat.

Mrs. Fane was agreeably surprised by
unexpectedly meeting her friend, whom
she tenderly loved, and entered into all
her joys and sorrows. She was quite gratified
that she had taken refuge at her
country-house in the hour of perplexity
and distress. To enjoy the society of
Mrs. Douglas, after so long a separation,
Mrs. Fane purposely remained some days
longer in town than she had intended.
This was a mutual satisfaction to the
friends; and Mrs. Fane entreated, that till
Treharne was rendered habitable, the generalneral C7v 38
and Mrs. Douglas would consider
hers as their country-house: it would be
very convenient, Mrs. Fane observed, to
be near the spot, to superintend the workmen,
when they were employed on the
repairs necessary to make the building
comfortable.

From never having been accustomed to
the disagreeable practice people have in
London of staring rudely at every female,
even if old and ugly, as well as handsome,
Rose and Jane found this ill-bred trick
annoying and unpleasant. One gentleman,
whose figure was not in the least
prepossessing, between fifty and sixty
years of age, with eyes bleared and encircled
with red, was exceedingly troublesome
to them. They met him in Hyde
Park
, where they had previously seen
him some days before. He followed them
from the Park, and began speaking in a
gallant manner. They answered not, but
turning into Piccadilly, entered a shop to
avoid him, and waited there a considerable time, C8r 39
time, with the hope of getting rid of him;
but, to their extreme mortification, when
they came out he was still watching.

They went into several shops afterwards,
perceiving that he continued to follow;
but all to no purpose, as he persevered in
his attendance, till they were obliged to
go home. By this method he discovered
where they lived, to their excessive mortification.

From this period he became quite an
annoyance, and was constantly walking or
riding by the house, and they scarcely
ever dared approach the windows, from
the fear of seeing him, as whenever he
caught a glimpse of either, he bowed,
smiled, or kissed his hand.

Rose had received three letters from sir
Eglamour
—two when he was marching
to Portsmouth for embarkation, and one
when he was on board, and ready to sail.
He mentioned in the last that he did not
then know to what place they were going.

Soon after their arrival in town, a letter from C8v 40
from him was forwarded that had been
sent to Treharne. It was not an answer
to the one she had written, informing him
of their journey to London, but to that
he had previously received from her, when
he was at Portsmouth, detained by the
wind. Sir Eglamour had written this
from the coast of Holland, to which place
the expedition in which he was engaged
was now known to be destined. He
requested she would not be uneasy if she
did not hear again from him for two or
three months, as he should be continually
moving about with the army: frequent
skirmishes and other engagements,
which would cause his constant change of
residence, must prevent his writing. He
concluded with observing that, although
he had an incurable wound in his heart,
he hoped he should return unhurt in every
other respect, that her constancy might
not be shaken by his being disfigured.
However, he trusted if the fate of war deprived
him of a leg or an arm, that she would C9r 41
would not behave to him as the lady did
to her lover in Marmontel’s Tales.

Rose sighed as she perused this, and
thought that no event, misfortune, or alteration
in his person, could weaken her
attachment for him—so good, so brave,
and noble-minded, and who truly loved.
To restrain her tears at the idea of the
dangers he had to encounter she found impossible,
as the feeble consolation of hearing
from him was now denied her.

The first time that she heard the newsman
blowing his horn, she could not imagine
the meaning of it; but when it was
explained, and Rose learned that, on any
intelligence arriving from abroad, he always
announced it, by calling—“Great
news! extraordinary news!”
and sounding
his horn loudly, her affectionate and
feeling heart thrilled with agony and terror
at the sound. Her whole frame would
shake with agitation, fearful of any bad
news from the army in Holland. Sometimes
the newsman blew his horn late at night, C9v 42
night, when Rose was fast asleep. At this
awful noise she awoke frequently, with
the most horrible images impressed on
her mind. She would fancy that a battle
had been fought, and the recollection
of her beloved sir Eglamour would be
presented to her tortured imagination,
perhaps wounded and bleeding. At that
moment, how ardently did she wish that
she had been his wife, that she might
with propriety have shared his danger,
attended upon him, and by her tender
attention softened his pangs, if ill
from wounds or fatigue! The damp climate
of Holland was likewise very unfavourable
for the health, and particularly
for him, who was only lately recovered
from the accident that introduced him to
her.

A heavy shower of rain prevented Miss
Douglas
and her sister from taking their
usual morning walk. The general postman
knocked at the door, and, expecting
a letter from their father, which their motherther C10r 43
was anxious to receive, Jane ran
down the stairs, to see if it was from him,
while Rose, eager to know likewise, followed
her quickly: but imagine the consternation
of both, at seeing captain
Courtenay
, who had imitated the postman’s
knock, to get easy and prompt admittance!

Rose retreated to the drawing-room,
where her mother was seated, and faintly
articulated, to the astonishment of her
mother, that captain Courtenay was at the
door. Before she could express her surprise,
he entered, having followed Jane up
stairs. Miss Douglas was quite petrified
with his assurance, and remembered the
threat that he would come and see her after
his marriage, which he had now presumed
to realize.

Mrs. Douglas felt quite indignant at
his presumption in daring to visit them,
after his dishonourable, perfidious, and
brutal behaviour to her daughter. Influenced
by resentment, she said many severevere C10v 44
things; and Rose could not help admiring,
guilty as he was, the mildness and
patience with which he supported her satirical
remarks on him: yet she could not
endure to remain any longer in the room
with a man who had behaved so cruelly
and incorrectly, and retired, leaving him
alone with her mother, Jane having quitted
the apartment before. To the extreme
amazement of Rose and her sister,
he remained a considerable time with Mrs.
Douglas
. The interval appeared so long,
that they thought he would never have
taken his leave.

“Undoubtedly,” said Jane to Rose,
“they have entered on some agreeable topic
of conversation, by his staying.”

Just as she uttered these words, they
had the satisfaction of hearing him depart,
and when they returned to the drawing-
room, their mother said—“I thank you,
my dear Rose, for having left the room;
it was perfectly correct of you by that
conduct to resent the indignity offered by C11r 45
by his presuming to come and see you
after his marriage. Does he think that a
lady, because she has not a large fortune,
is to be insulted with impunity? He
dared not have behaved so to a wealthy
woman. What a despicable being to act
as he had done! I cannot think what
could possess him to remain all this time,
unless he thought of seeing you again,
and that you would return to the drawing-
room. No other circumstance, I should
imagine, would have influenced him to
stay, for I have been entertaining him
with no other conversation than severe
observations, and satirical remarks on himself
and family. I must confess that he
bore with surprising temper all my satire
and severity, and did not once make an
ill-natured reply, conscious, like a man of
sense, that he had acted unjustly, and that
my behaviour proceeded from being irritated
at his conduct to my daughter. I
did it on purpose to make him feel no inclination
to repeat his visit. Sincerely do C11v 46
do I hope that my speeches and appearance
will be productive of that good effect.”

“Will you allow me to own, my dearest
mother,”
replied Rose, “that the manner
in which he has conducted himself today
has quite pleased me, though I hope
never to see him again. It proves, by his
enduring all your satirical remarks so patiently,
that he is a real gentleman, and
would not resent any thing a lady said:
but may I never hear of him more!”

As Mrs. Douglas was calmly conversing
with her daughters on this subject, Kamira
came in, with a face red and inflamed
with anger; she looked anxiously at Rose,
and then related that having been to a
shop in the neighbourhood, she saw captain
Courtenay
as she returned home,
coming from the house. Impressed with
the idea that he had been there to repeat
his insults to her dear Miss Rose, the Indian
could not restrain her anger. In the
moment of rage she began reproaching him C12r 47
him in the street for his vile conduct, saying,
her young lady had got a much better
sweetheart than him, whose servant he
was not worthy to be. The imperfect
English, and the singular mode in which she
expressed herself, attracted the attention
of the people passing by; a mob was beginning
to collect, and Courtenay gladly
ran off, to escape her torrent of severe reproaches.

Mrs. Douglas with difficulty suppressed
a smile at this account; yet, while she reprimanded
her for her impetuosity, and
publicly yielding to her passions, she could
not inwardly blame her violence. It was
natural for this poor Indian to be incensed
against him, after the infamous unfeeling
behaviour she had witnessed.

Lady Morrington and mademoiselle de
Rimont
arrived in town, and called shortly
after in South Audley-street. They had
heard of sir James Douglas’s death, with
and exaggerated account of the immense fortune C12v 48
fortune he had left, and that it was all bequeathed
to the general. Lady Morrington,
who was continually distressed for
money, from losing a great deal at cards,
of which she was immoderately and imprudently
fond, was eager to visit Mrs.
Douglas
, with the hope of borrowing some
money of her. Her ladyship pretended
to be delighted to see them, and pressed
Mrs. Douglas and her daughters to fix a
day to meet a dinner-party at her house.

She was so earnest in her invitation,
that Mrs. Douglas was at length persuaded
to oblige her ladyship, much against her
own inclination, and the day was appointed.
This ceremony being settled, the
conversation happened to turn on the
death of sir James, and lady Morrington
congratulated them on the acquisition
they had received to their fortune.

Mrs. Douglas thanked her ladyship,
but observed that it was not a certainty
that the general would inherit her brother’s donation; D1r 49
donation; and, very unlike a woman of
the world, candidly related every circumstance
respecting this unfortunate affair.

Louise looked deeply concerned at the
disappointment they had experienced,
though it might not eventually be a real
sorrow. Every person acquainted with
the story conceived it to be an invention
of the attorney’s and Helen’s. She was
the companion of his vices, and her character,
on inquiry, discovered to be very
atrocious. The chief vexation was the
trouble, expence, and separation of the
general, which it caused, from his family;
but at all events, it was a serious inconvenience
for him, after the money he had expended
on this occasion, to be so long
without receiving any part of the fortune.

Lady Morrington was however of a
different opinion, quite unpropitious to
their interest, and her manners changed
accordingly. It was the dazzling prospect
of their having a large inheritance divided
among them that made her so attentive.Vol. III. D tive. D1v 50
Hardly could she disguise her mortification
at having been thus eager to visit
them in town: she was convinced, since
they had no claim to opulence, that they
would soon sink into insignificance, judging
too justly of the dispositions of others by
her own. The idea that they might, if distressed,
make some demand on her purse,
from believing her insincere professions of
friendship, filled her with terror. How
deeply did she regret having asked them
to dinner! for, with all her unblushing
confidence, it was impossible to decline
receiving them, whom she had persuaded
so urgently to accept her invitation.

To hide her chagrin, her ladyship wished
them good-morning, and retired, followed
by Louise, who, being accustomed
for several years to observe every emotion
that affected her, quickly penetrated the
meaning of her altered looks and manners,
and secretly despised a mind so selfish and
worldly. The moment that her carriage
drove from the door, Mrs. Douglas went out D2r 51
out with her daughters, to purchase many
articles of dress for them and her son, at a
linen-draper’s her ladyship had eagerly recommended
soon after she came in. Lady
Morrington
was considerably in his debt,
and hoped to pacify him by recommending
a wealthy customer. She had informed
Mrs. Douglas that he would give her
credit, if she mentioned her ladyship’s
name, as Mrs. Douglas did not find it convenient,
till she received remittances from
Scotland, to expend any ready money.

Having made their purchases, they returned
to South Audley-street, and found
Miss Herbert waiting for them. Mary
flew to embrace her friend Rose, who said
that she was disappointed at not having
seen her before, as she understood she had
been in London a fortnight, from mademoiselle
de Rimont
.

“Knowing, as I flatter myself you do,
how sincerely I love you,”
replied Mary,
“you will surely not attribute my absence
to any diminution of regard, but to the real D2 cause— D2v 52
cause—extreme occupation. I wish that
meddling De Rimont had not told you
any thing about it. You are too partial
to her.”

“Pardon me—I do not judge more
highly of her than she deserves.”

“Don’t be angry; but I think you
guilty of an unpardonable piece of folly,
in being infatuated with this friend of a
few summer months, and a Frenchwoman
too. Forgive my prejudices and frankness,
Rose, and do not suffer your hopes
to triumph over your reason.”

“You mistake, dear Mary,” said Miss
Douglas
, “I have known Louise some
years.”

“Yes, but you generally meet with her
but a short time during the fine weather,
and I wish you to give the preference to
your own countrywomen, who are more
sincere in their friendships, and as constant
as they are in love. When I am
absent from you, instead of lessening, it
heightens my regard. But I will tell you all D3r 53
all about the engagements that have detained
me from you, if your sister and
yourself will pass the whole day with me
to-morrow. We shall be very happy, and
I can answer for it, exceedingly merry, as
we are none of us insipid characters.”

Rose and her sister assured Mary that
they accepted her invitation with delight.

“You were speaking, Miss Herbert,”
observed Mrs. Douglas, “of friendship.
A true friendship needs not ‘the foreign
aid of ornament,’
any more than beauty.
It will demonstrate itself by its actions:
sleeping or waking it will go actively on.
This state is not often found, whose principle
is established on virtue, and supported
by sincerity.”

“May this description of friendship my
mother has given us, ever exist between
you and me!”
said Rose to Mary: “but
you have not told me if you had, as usual,
an agreeable journey, and made any visits
on your way to town that you liked.”

“We staid two days at a gentleman’s D3 house D3v 54
house in Devonshire—a beautiful place,”

replied Mary; “and it had novelty to recommend
it, as I never was there before;
and only think of my having dined there
with your old friend captain Burton.
Numberless inquiries he made after you
and the whole family.”

“He admires you extremely,” rejoined
Rose, with a smile; “deep is the impression
you have made on his mind.”

“He is a lively agreeable man, but no
power on earth could tempt me to have
him. If he was rich, and a lord, I should
perhaps think differently. I am not blind
to the fine prospects held out by the word
interest. Have you not discovered, in
your commerce with this guilty world,
that in general interest stands instead of
heart? But what think you of London?”

“It is a gay scene, full of variety and
entertainment. We have been to Coventgarden
theatre, which much amused us.”

“It pleases me to hear this. I love
plays as well as a child, and I hope we shall D4r 55
shall often go to the theatre together. But
you call London gay: you will kill me
with laughing, if you repeat such an absurdity.
The town is quite empty now,
and the stupidest place under the sun, for
that reason. However, I am very ridiculous
in asserting this, when I recollect that
it is your first visit to such a whirligig
place. If I am not mistaken, you were
never here before, above two days, on
your journey to Devonshire?”

Rose replied in the affirmative, and
Mary hurried away, saying she must leave
them, fascinating as they were, having several
morning visits to make.

D4 CHAP-
D4v 56

Chapter III.

“First taught to bear the chill unmindful eye, Of once-fond friendship shrunk to charity, The sly slow taunt—the frequent stab bestow’d On poverty, too long in pomp’s abode.” V.

According to their appointment with
Miss Herbert, Rose and her sister waited
upon her at her father’s house in Piccadilly.
The situation was most cheerful, and Jane
amused herself with gazing at the variety
of passing objects. When she was tired
with this occupation, she played on a fine-
toned lute of Mary’s, and entertained herself
likewise in reading and examining an
extensive well-chosen library, that contained,
besides a valuable collection of
books, large portfolios of engravings that
were very amusing. Jane occupied her
time in this manner, that Rose might converseverse D5r 57
with her friend, unrestrained by the
presence of a third person.

Mary confided to Miss Douglas, that she
was soon going to be married to a nobleman
Mr. Herbert approved, and displayed
to Rose the superb jewels and elegant
dresses presented for this joyful occasion.
In the event of her marriage, Miss Herbert
observed that she should be more
her own mistress than at present, and
could have her friend to reside frequently
with her. If Rose would consent to live
constantly with her, it would add, she
said, to their happiness; and she could
liberally assist her, if she required it, with
money or any thing she wanted, having a
very handsome settlement from her intended
husband. This was in consequence
of the large fortune Mr. Herbert had bestowed
on her, which made her enjoy the
felicity of being able to evince affection
for those she loved.

Rose expressed her gratitude for such
disinterested friendship and generous offers, D5 and D5v 58
and then related the uneasiness, disappointment,
and cost, in which they had
been involved since her uncle’s decease,
from a new claimant having started up to
demand sir James’s property, which had
caused infinite trouble to her father, and
vexation to the whole family.

Unlike lady Morrington, the intelligence
of this misfortune seemed rather to
augment than diminish her attachment.
The poisonous breath of selfishness, of
sordid parsimony, and ignoble meanness,
had not yet tainted her youthful mind,
though the contagion was difficult to escape.

“However little worthy you may think
me of the honour,”
exclaimed Mary, “I
take it upon me the title of your friend.
Apply to me whenever you want any
thing. Though grandeur, rank, fortune,
now await me, I am convinced that the
hours we pass together will be the happiest
of my life. If that vulnerable heart
of yours,”
said Mary, laughing, “that has under- D6r 59
undergone so many attacks that very little
can be left, should be again deprived of
the object of its regard, I shall, when you
reside with me, select a husband for you.”

Rose smiled, and observed that she was
more good-natured than the generality of
her sex, who are not disposed to marry
off their friends—but hoped never to require
her services on such an occasion.

This day was one of the happiest that
Rose had ever passed. Each contracted
new delight from the society of the other,
their hearts being united, “like two flowers
on one stem.”
They were grateful to
Jane for allowing them to converse without
restraint. The principal subjects that
interested them, were Mary’s approaching
marriage, and her plans for serving Rose,
and having her often at her house.

They separated with reluctance, but
met two days afterwards at lady Morrington’s,
where they had been engaged to
dine. Her ladyship had received them coldly,
and had contrived to invite only those D6 who D6v 60
who were in town, that already knew
them, with the exception of one lady, and
an insignificant individual, a Mr. Foster,
who endured neglect and impertinence
for the sake of a good dinner. Lady Morrington
was determined to avoid mortifying
herself, by escaping the humiliation of
introducing girls not endowed with fortune
to any more of her acquaintance.
Lady Elinor Murray, daughter to the
earl of Arlberry, was very good-humoured,
and on a visit at lady Morrington’s,
therefore it was impossible to prevent
her being present. The rest of the party
consisted of lady Harvey, Miss Herbert
and her admirer lord Beaufort, sir Henry
Arundel
, the count de Fontenai, and Mr.
Foster
, who, to their great astonishment,
when he was presented to their notice,
proved to be the gentleman that had followed
them from Hyde-Park, and was so
troublesome in walking before the house,
and watching them continually.

They mutually smiled at a rencontre so D7r 61
so unexpected and unforeseen, at which
the sisters were the more surprised, as
they discovered, from inquiries after his
wife and children, that he was a married
man, which made the levity of his conduct
to them inexcusable.

Lady Elinor was very interesting, about
five-and-twenty. Her person was small,
but delicately formed, with the gentlest
manners, and a countenance soft, fair, and
pleasing. The dinner was exceedingly
splendid, but, like all magnificent banquets,
tedious, dull, and fatiguing.

Miss Douglas was delighted when this
ceremony was over, and the ladies retired
to the drawing-room. Lady Elinor had
been placed near her at table, and she was
quite fascinated with her new companion,
who was unassuming, and rather reserved
at first. Her ladyship’s reserve wore off
by degrees, and she then seemed equally
pleased with Rose.

Miss Herbert was engaged in conversation
with lady Harvey till her lover and the D7v 62
the other gentlemen joined them at tea.
Lord Beaufort then occupied all her attention;
and Rose was at liberty to enjoy
the society of her new acquaintance. De
Fontenai
attached himself to Jane, and
lady Harvey to Mrs. Douglas. Felix was
attentive to lady Morrington, and conversed
occasionally with lady Elinor and his
sister. Sir Henry Arundel (more in love
than ever with Rose) watched every opportunity
of being near them; and Mr.
Foster
appeared to be attracted by the
same magnet.

“I was informed,” said sir Henry, “that
in consequence of the fire at Treharne
you had quitted that sylvan scene, where
weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot, for
the devastating metropolis, genial to nothing
but corruption. This information
made me likewise quit it, since it had no
longer any attraction.”

“In the country,” observed Mr. Foster,
“you had leisure to examine the qualities
and perfections of Miss Douglas’s mind; D8r 63
mind; and no doubt the inspection has
justified the promise of excellence. I am
myself convinced that she is as prudent as
she is lovely,”
alluding, as he spoke, to
her rejection of his gallantry in the street.

Rose understood his meaning, and
thought her merit on this occasion very
trifling, as it did not require much prudence,
or any self-denial, to reject the advances
of a plain, disagreeable, old man:
but he thought otherwise of his alluring
powers.

“If it is worth Miss Douglas’s consideration,”
replied sir Henry, “I will acknowledge
that she has my entire approbation;
and I look forward with anxious
hope that our acquaintance will terminate
in unerring friendship. I wish she may
remain but a short time in town, as I fear
that late hours and hot rooms will destroy
that fine bloom that mantles on her cheek.”

“We live nearly as retired as if we were
in the country,”
observed Rose.

“I am always enlivened,” said lady Elinor D8v 64
Elinor
, “at the prospect of returning into
the country, to enjoy the innocent, rational,
and rural pursuits. When confined for
any length of time to the smoke of London,
I almost envy every one who talks
of going out of town.”

“I wish lady Elinor,” exclaimed sir
Henry
, “and Miss Douglas would allow
me to watch over their health and happiness,
while they grace the metropolis.
They should condemn my skill, and drive
me from the regions of taste and elegance,
if they did not approve my management.”

Here Mr. Foster joined again in the
conversation, saying—“I am disposed to
punish your conceit, sir Henry, and laugh
at your vanity, in presuming to suppose
you can obtain the power of guiding as
you please these lovely creatures, for whom
so many sigh.”

“Those harsh observations of yours,
Foster, proceed from the natural severity
of your temper and splenetic humour, that
tinctures your disposition. You are a Benedicknedick D9r 65
of many years—no wonder then you
have the spleen; nor can you, by your
censure, alter—no, not by one jot, my opinion,
or prevent me from expressing my
admiration of the gentle lady Elinor, and
my fair friend here.”

“Jesting apart, I agree with you, sir
Henry
, in all that relates to their captivation.
Thoughtless of danger, I have approached
those blazing meteors, Miss
Douglas’s
eyes, ‘that shine but to destroy.’
But, I trust, from her amiableness, that
since (as a married man) I have no hopes
from her pity, she will make ample amends
to you, for having torn and burnt your
poor heart to tinder, by transplanting her
own. But a truce to this nonsense—I
will wish you all good-night, and occupy
no more of your time, already too much
consumed with my trifling.”

When Mr. Foster, was gone, Rose observed,
that he had good manners, and was
truly polite.

“You D9v 66

“You will find I am right,” replied sir
Henry
, “when I caution you to beware
of his politeness, and assumed good-humour.
How wicked must be the world,
you will think, when good-nature and civility
are causes for suspicion! Poor man!
with all his vices, I pity him from my soul!
It is melancholy in old age to have no
comfortable home, and depend on credulity
for subsistence in the silly town of
London, though I believe it is a safe dependence.
He will most probably endeavour
to intrude himself at your house—
but to encourage the visits of such a man
is a stupidity to which I am sure you are
superior. From his wife and children he
has been separated for many years; the former
he never loved, having married her for a
large fortune, which he soon squandered
away, leaving his wife and family, for their
subsistence, the scanty pittance settled on
her. By flattery, and making himself
agreeable, he gets admittance into many fashionable D10r 67
fashionable houses, and as he creates amusement,
is tolerated, till he disgusts by too
frequent attacks on their purse.”

Rose felt grateful to sir Henry for this
delineation of Mr. Foster’s character. She
had judged he was unworthy, by obtruding
his conversation in the street, when
he perceived his gallantry was disagreeable
to them. Soon after he left them, the
party separated for the evening.

Mary Herbert said to Rose, as she took
them home in her carriage—“I think this
first sortie of your fashionable campaign
in town very brilliant. Sincerely do I hope
it may proceed in the same manner.”

“I know the uncertainty of every thing,
and cannot feel quite so sanguine about it
as you appear,”
replied Rose, smiling, who
had remarked the freezing coldness and
hauteur of lady Morrington—a change
most striking in her manners, that were
formerly (in general) affable and pleasing,
and seldom developed any trait of her natural
character. Louise was confined to her D10v 68
her apartment with a cold, and Rose was
disappointed at not having had the pleasure
of seeing her.

The long-expected letter from Scotland
at length arrived; but the perusal of it,
alas! was productive of sorrow only. It
was not written by the general, but Mr.
Moncrief
, who mentioned how painful it
was for him to impart the heart-wounding
intelligence that general Douglas had been
confined several days to his bed. A fever
had been the consequence of the mental
agitation and fatigue he had undergone, in
the fruitless search for the clergyman and
Davie M’Gregor.

Mrs. Douglas was agonized as she perused
their friend’s letter. The best of
men and of husbands pressed the couch of
sickness, caused by severe misfortune, now
could she hesitate a moment in flying to
attend on him.

Her mind was torn with contending
emotions, at the idea of leaving her daughters
in so dangerous a place as London, and D11r 69
and with cruel agony at the situation of
her loved husband, from whom she could
not endure to be absent. Feeling it her
inclination, as well as duty, to go directly
to him, the conflict and trial were almost
too much for her affectionate bosom: yet
she decided directly how to act, and checked,
as much as possible, after the first
shock, the anguish that racked her breast,
that her frame might be enabled to support
whatever acute misery was in store
for her.

Mrs. Douglas recommended her daughters
to the protection of their brother. It
was the only source of comfort that he was
with them, though she feared that consolation
would not last long, as his leave of
absence was nearly expired. But, unwilling
to anticipate evil, from being too well
acquainted with real sorrow, she hoped he
would be able to renew the permission,
and desired he would write to his colonel,
to request it as a particular favour.

Mrs. Douglas likewise requested Mr. and D11v 70
and Mrs. Linn
to be attentive to Rose and
Jane, assuring them, that at some future
period it would be in her power to reward
any kindness her children experienced
from them.

The advice she now gave her son and
daughters was nearly the same as when
she left them before, except that she still
more impressively entreated them to be
prudent and correct, as the town was replete
with dangers for young people who
were not very cautious in their conduct.
Their mother desired also that they would
decline every invitation, their father’s critical
state of health being a sufficient excuse;
and by acting in this manner, they
would avoid expending money, which was
not convenient, in the embarrassed situation
of their finances. She likewise exhorted
them to be as economical as possible on
every occasion; and having previously taken
a place in the coach for Scotland, left her
daughters and Kamira in tears, though she
would not suffer hers to flow.

The D12r 71

The countenance of Felix betrayed a
manly sensibility, though he had too much
resolution to yield to feminine weakness.
He attend his mother to the stage, and
then returned to sooth the affliction of his
sisters with every proof of fraternal regard.

In the afternoon of the day when their
excellent parent quitted them for Scotland,
Rose was seated at work alone in the
drawing-room; Kamira came up, and interrupted
her meditations, as she worked,
by saying a man, who looked like a respectable
tradesman, wished to speak to
Mrs. Douglas’s eldest daughter.

Rose desired him to be admitted, and
Kamira then announced the linendraper,
of whom Mrs. Douglas had purchased various
articles.

“I understand, Miss,” said the man,
awkwardly bowing, “that your mamma
is gone out of town without paying my
bill. It is shabby behaviour, to go without
settling my little account. I think it
had bad usage from a stranger, quite a swindlingling D12v 72
piece of business: living, too, in genteel
apartments. They tell me, Miss, you
be of age, and I shall look to you for the
cash.”

“My mother,” replied Rose, mildly,
“was informed by lady Morrington that
you would give her credit if she made use
of her ladyship’s name. You may be certain
of having your money, though not
immediately, as we are engaged in an expensive
lawsuit, that embarrasses us at
present.”

“That’s neither here nor there to me,
Miss. I’ll not be wronged: right’s right.
What’s you or your affairs to me? You
need not speak about my lady; she’s slow
enough in her payments; obliged to dance
attendance for years before one can see the
colour of her money. Besides, she’s no
friend of yours. I went to ask if her ladyship
would be answerable for the goods
you have taken, and she said—‘By no
means.’
What’s more, she told me it was
very extravagant of such poverty-struck people E1r 73
people to buy so many things. She thought
it a great liberty, too, of your mamma, to
make use of her name.”

“I am astonished to hear this!” exclaimed
Rose: “what an artful woman lady
Morrington
must be, to speak so disrespectfully,
after urging my mother to deal
at your shop, and asserting that you always
gave credit.”

“A pretty customer indeed my lady
has recommended! However, young lady,
I must tell you at once the long and the
short of the business: if you do not send
me fifteen pounds by twelve o’clock
to-morrow morning, I shall find means to
force you to pay it. You have had part
of the goods, and I say again, I shall look
to you, not to your mamma. She is a
married woman, her husband away, and
now gone off herself; so that I can’t come
upon her. I hear as how your papa is an
officer—the worst people in the world to
do business with: they never pay—here Vol. III. E to- E1v 74
to-day, gone to-morrow. Altogether, ’tis
a swindling transaction, and, once for all,
you must send the money, as I have told
you, or you’ll know the consequence, for
pay you must and shall! So your servant,
Miss;”
and, as he uttered these words, before
Rose could reply, he vulgarly banged
the drawing-room door after him, leaving
poor Miss Douglas nearly in a state of
distraction, from never having experienced
such ill-bred and unfeeling insolence.

She was not intimate enough with lady
Harvey
to ask any pecuniary favour; and
even if she had, Rose knew she was often
distressed for money herself. Her only
friend in London, who could assist her,
was Miss Herbert, as from lady Morrington
no relief could be expected, after such
glaring duplicity.

These reflections influenced her to write
a note, which she instantly dispatched by
Kamira to Mary Herbert. In a few hurried
lines, which evinced her distress, she requested E2r 75
requested the loan of fifteen pounds, the
sum owing to the hard-hearted linendraper.

The faithful Kamira, to whom she confided
what had happened, went off with
tears in her eyes; and Rose then sought
her sister, to impart this additional sorrow.

Jane was overwhelmed with affliction at
the sufferings Rose was destined to endure,
but endeavoured to lessen her uneasiness,
by representing that the man only
threatened, from being prejudiced against
them by lady Morrington. She could not
imagine he would be so uncommonly severe
as to put his menaces in execution,
and if he did, advised her not to be alarmed,
as Mary Herbert, who was so wealthy,
and going to be well married, would certainly
serve her, after such ardent professions
of friendship.

Rose was too much depressed by melancholy
to be equally confident of success,
as Mary might not have that sum by her.
Her heart sunk with dejection at being E2 deprived, E2v 76
deprived, thus critically situated, of her
mother’s advice. Yet, on second thoughts,
she rejoiced at her absence, as she would
gladly undergo the severest calamity to
shield her poor mother from it.

Kamira returned quickly with an answer.
Rose, overcome with agitation,
tore open the note, and found it contained
a cold refusal. Mary Herbert replied, that
she had not so large a sum as fifteen pounds
in the house, having expended all her ready
money in preparations for her wedding,
which was to take place in a few days. It
was her intention afterwards to look out
for a trinket to send her as a remembrance,
and advised her to apply to some
other friend. Mary then coolly concluded
with wishing her well out of all her difficulties.

Insensibly (as she finished reading this
cold-hearted note) tears of wounded sensibility
trickled down her lovely face. They
were not caused by disappointment at being
refused assistance, but from heartfelt grief, E3r 77
grief, at discovering that the friend she
fervently loved, with purest truth, was
deceitful and hard-hearted. All hope of
relief was vanished; yet the dread of danger
did not pain her so acutely as the
knowledge of her beloved Mary’s selfishness,
and insensible, frigid, and pitiless
mind. She wished to become indifferent
to her, but it was not an easy task, after
the sincere affection she had entertained
for her unfeeling friend.

Miss Douglas was bewildered in thinking
how to extricate herself, as her expectations
from Mary were disappointed. To
apply to any slight acquaintance she could
not endure, and it was distressing to expose
her misfortunes to people who knew
but little of her, and only paid attention
to herself and family from supposing they
had inherited her uncle’s property.

Poor Kamira, who perceived in her expressive
countenance the anguish that tortured
this undeservedly-unfortunate young
lady, was miserable, her affectionate and E3 faithful E3v 78
faithful disposition causing her to more
than share every pang that agonized her
favourite Miss Rose. She was attached
to the whole family, but for her she would
willingly have resigned existence; the joys
and sufferings of the ill-fated Rose were
hers.

Miss Douglas had told her to be careful
of the answer she brought back from Mary
Herbert
, as there would probably be money
in it. When Kamira saw her open
the letter, and perceived it did not contain
what she expected, in an agitated
voice she exclaimed—“Me think Miss
Herbert
grow very proud, like peacock,
that spread his tail out. Me say that lady
no good. She got fine gowns, with gold
flowers and silver, lay about her room,
and fine feathers, like what Esquimaux
wear; me have such in my country. Me
look on her table; there be bright, shiny
stones, she put on her neck, and her head,
and in her ears, like Indian. Me saw in
her hand a long purse, stuffed with paper monies; E4r 79
monies; she plenty, and so conceit, run,
look in glass over chimney, then t’other
glass at window. She keep grin, look at
herself every minute—never look me but
when she give letter. Me sure she could
help you, if she please—Oh, she had heart
—worse than mountaineer.”

Rose sighed.—“I cannot think so unkindly
of her as you do, Kamira. Prosperity
has made her giddy, and I will own
that I have seen an alteration for the
worse since her intended marriage with
lord Beaufort. She was more humble before,
for, however rich her father, she
had no rank in society; the knowledge,
therefore, that by her marriage with lord
Beaufort
, she would acquire distinction,
and be enabled to go to court, which she
could not before, has elated her vanity;
with a heart swelling with gratified pride,
she cannot feel compassion for the woes of
others, being wholly engrossed by self-
love. But this delirium of arrogance will, E4 I hope, E4v 80
I hope, subside, and the native goodness
of heart I have always concluded she possessed
will dispel the mists of haughtiness,
conceit, and selfishness.”

“Me heard from her servants her father
have her by a cook. Miss Herbert, daughter
of cook, or lady’s waiting-maid.”

“I have heard that report, and understand
she is the daughter of a servant, but
not so obscure as a cook. However, the
obscurity of her origin by her mother’s
side never lessened her in my opinion.
Noble minds often grace the meanest stations
of life, and I sincerely wish her conduct
may do honour to the elevated situation
in which she is going to move. No
one will then reflect on her being illegitimate,
and the offspring of a vulgar servant.”

“If she no behave like a lady, and insult
her betters, me say Miss Herbert
sprung from a dunghill, and by dirty pride
and hard heart she shew it.”

“I will not hear you say any more on this E5r 81
this subject, Kamira. I trust she will yet
prove herself the friend she professed to
be, which her flattering words, and warm
affectionate letters, that I have no carefully
preserved, as I valued them from the
attachment she avowed for me in them,
will prove. I never doubted her sincerity,
and if she neglects me, and evinces dark
deceit, the only cause, and my crime, in
her eyes, is not being so fortunate as herself.
Had I been her, I would have disposed
of some of my jewels, rather than
have refused to assist a friend. My mother
has often embarrassed herself to serve
her friends, and I would do the same.”

Kamira was silent, as she observed it
was displeasing to her young lady to hear
Miss Herbert spoke of with contempt, notwithstanding
her insincerity and deception.

Rose now wrote to the linendraper by
the two-penny post, entreating he would
suspend the harsh measures he had threatened,
till she received news from Edinburgh,
when she had no doubt, if he had E5 patience, E5v 82
patience, of a remittance being enclosed,
part of which she would, without delay,
forward to him. This she hoped would
pacify him for some time, and in that interval
she flattered herself it would be in
her power to liquidate his debt.

Miss Douglas desired Kamira and her
sister to keep Felix in ignorance of what
had passed, as it would only make him unhappy,
and answer no good purpose. Her
brother was going to Richmond, in the
evening, on a visit for a fortnight, and
Rose trusted to have this unpleasant affair
settled before his return. More anxious
for the happiness of others that she
regarded, than her own, it was always her
wish to avoid wounding the feelings of
those she loved. Her parents only were
dearer to her than her brave, her amiable
brother.

Two days had elapsed since the linendraper’s
disagreeable visit. Early on the
third morning, Rose had just sunk into a
profound slumber, from having been awake the E6r 83
the greater part of the night with anxiety.
This refreshing sleep, that would have invigorated
her harassed form, was soon disturbed
by a loud, violent noise, as if several
people were quarrelling. Jane had risen
and left the apartment, but Rose
quickly distinguished her voice and Kamira’s
in high-spirited altercation with
some person. At length she heard Kamira
distinctly say—“Me tell you she not
here; me tell you Miss Douglas out of
town.”

That instant Rose was overcome with
horror, suspecting too truly the occasion
of these sounds. She jumped out of bed,
and bolted the door. The noise and
voices grew louder and louder, till they
approached the chamber-door, and she
heard two men talking violently to Kamira.
The men then tried to open her
door, saying—“She is here.”

Kamira replied—“Me tell you no; another
lady sleep in that room. You punished
you disturb lady.”

E6 At E6v 84

At these words the men retreated down
the stairs, to the inexpressible alleviation
of her terror, having remained trembling
in bed all the time. Rose hoped she had
escaped, and that they had left the house,
as every thing was still for a few minutes;
but, to her melancholy disappointment,
the noise commenced again. She heard
the men running up the stairs, and one of
them exclaimed—“Miss Douglas is certainly
in this room: come, Dick, let us
break open the door.”

From these circumstances and exclamations
combined, Rose had guessed the
truth, and was convinced these men were
bailiffs, sent to arrest her by the linendraper.
It was better, she judged, to avoid
having the door broken open, and called
out—“Gentlemen, if you will have patience,
I will surrender myself, without
your being obliged to use force; I merely
request you will allow me time to dress.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” said one of the
men; “if you are civil we will be so too. I shall E7r 85
I shall amuse myself in making love to
your maid; it is a pity she is so abusive.”

“You make me love! me hate you.
You be beast! you be wretch!”

The men only laughed, while she continued
to scold them, till her young lady
was dressed, and came out to them. Miss
Douglas
had been rather slow in dressing,
as her hands shook, and she could scarcely
stand. In vain she endeavoured to console
Kamira, who was drowned in tears,
bitterly lamenting her hapless fate. She
then asked permission of the men to speak
privately with her sister, which they
granted. Rose gave Jane some money,
and entreated she would keep up her spirits,
as she was nearly fainting.

With all the fortitude she could assume,
Rose now prepared to meet this severe
trial, though Jane almost banished her resolution
by exclaiming, and weeping as
she spoke—“How will you be able to
bear this, ill as you already are with sorrow?”

“God E7v 86

“God will give me strength,” replied
Rose; and, returning to the men, informed
them she was ready.

Interested by her appearance and manners,
the bailiffs, though most hard-hearted,
were very polite and respectful. Finding
that she objected to going from the
door to the spunging-house in a coach, as
it might cause the neighbours to discover
the affair, one of the men took her writing-
desk, and a bundle of clothes, as it was
uncertain how long she would be confined,
and walked out first; Rose followed him,
and the other bailiff left the house a little
while after, and walked at a short distance,
so that neither appeared to belong to her.
When they had gone through two or three
streets, the men called a hackney-coach;
they handed her into it with great respect,
and then got in afterwards, ordering the
coachman where to drive.

As they drove along, the men humanely
endeavoured to comfort her; and that she
might not think it disgraceful to be arrested,ed, E8r 87
told her that a lady of quality had
been confined a fortnight in the same
house to which she was going, and a captain
in the army also. The captain had
been in high spirits when he first entered;
but so many debts had lately appeared
against him, that he had confined himself
to his bed from vexation, and was to be
sent very shortly to the King’s Bench.
One of the men said he expected to be
taken to prison himself for debt, and informed
her likewise of the best way to
proceed to get speedily released. The
misery in which she was involved did not
prevent her from being pleased with the
civility and respect of her rough companions.

At last the coach arrived, and stopped
before the gloomy spunging-house. The
heart of the unfortunate Rose sunk deeply
when she gazed with horror at the iron-
barred windows, where desolation seemed
to reign triumphant. The men perceived the E8v 88
the change in her countenance, and, to
weaken the effect the shock had on her
mind, told her the confinement would be
very short, if she wrote directly to her
friends, as every letter she might rely on
having carefully forwarded.

The street-door opened, and she was
ushered through another inner door, well
secured with iron bars and bolts, &c. The
men delivered up her property, and she
was then conducted into a small drawing-
room, on the first floor, furnished neatly,
with a pianoforte in it. Rose immediately
sat down to her desk, and wrote letters
to every one she thought likely to serve
her, and dispatched them off. She had
not tasted any food since she had been up,
and an elderly squint-eyed woman, who
was the servant of the house, came in and
asked if she would like breakfast? Rose
replied that she could not eat any thing,
but would partake of an early dinner instead.
This woman, whose appearance she E9r 89
she did not like, though exceedingly attentive,
said—“Come, Miss, and play a
tune on the piano, to amuse yourself.”

“I seldom play when I am happy,” rejoined
Rose, “and now I am too much
out of spirits to entertain myself with music.”

“You’ll be better by and by, Miss;
you’ll get more used to it.”

At that moment the man who opened
the inner door to keep the prisoners secure,
entered to demand some silver, to go and
search the office, he said, to see if there
were any detainers. Rose assured them
that could not be, not having any debts
as even this they had arrested her for was
not hers. The man replied, that made no
difference—it was a form always observed.

A porter that she had sent with a note
to Miss Herbert, and whom she had desired
to see on his return, now entered
the room, staggering drunk.—“There is
no answer, Miss,”
said he; “the lady was
married this very morning, and gone out of E9v 90
of town. Pray is this,”
holding out a glass
of gin (which the mistress of the house
had given him, as it rained hard) “is this
all I’m to have for my trouble?”

“Certainly not,” replied Rose; “here
are two shillings for you.”

“Thank you, Miss, thank you; I’ll
serve you by night or by day, since you
behave so generous, for nothing. I have
a darter—there is not such another, she is
so clever. She knows substraction, compounds,
and all. My wife, too, was as
pretty a woman as ever was seen, before
she lost her eye and her leg; but I don’t
like to remind her of her misfortins, for
she is as good a wife as need be. I must
say I have health, money, beauty—every
thing.”

He continued boasting, and Rose,
though mortified at having employed this
drunken being, could not help but smiling at
his vanity, as he was humpbacked, old,
and ordinary in his person. She saw the
door close on him with pleasure, and, when E10r 91
when her elderly attendant came, desired
that this intoxicated man might not be
sent with any letters or messages for her
again. Different people belonging to the
house, women, girls, and men, entered the
apartment occasionally, with some excuse
or other, which Rose imagined was to
examine her person that they might know
it well, in case she attempted to escape.
During this interval, when severe mortification
and heart-rending anguish overwhelmed
her, not a tear fell from her eye,
or sigh heaved her bosom. She sat immovable,
and stupified with sorrow.

While Rose was thus situated, the elderly
woman came in and said—“A gentleman,
Miss.”

At that instant captain Courtenay entered.
Rose gazed on him with an eye
of vacancy, and, absorbed in her own painful
reflections, scarcely recollected he was
in existence till her addressed her.

“What freak is this?” he exclaimed.
“I should as soon have expected to see the emperor E10v 92
emperor of Russia here as you. Though
you had become indifferent to me, which
you will say is a rude speech, I could not
hear of your imprisonment without coming
to extricate you, on condition that you
reward my passion, for I am not cut out
for platonic love. No, no, my dear girl,
it is too cold and barren; mutual tenderness
is the soul of real attachment.”

“How dare you, sir, speak to me of
love? It is profaning so noble a sentiment
for your lips to mention it; it is
not becoming in a married man. Do not
presume on my misfortunes: I would
sooner meet death, in its most horrid
shape, than act with impropriety. Never
could you persuade me to listen to you
with patience or complaisance.”

“I will give you my ideas,” replied
Courtenay, in the words of a charming
French author— “‘Je vous avouerai qu’un sentiment profane, Quand je vois vos appas, se glisse dans mon cœur, Le moral est, chez moi, toute raison du physique, Et malgré le respect de mon pudique ardeur, Je ne suis point fait pour l’amour platonique.’ Or E11r 93
Or if you wish to have it in plain English,
it runs thus—‘I must confess that a
profane sentiment glides into my heart
whenever I see your charms; and, in spite
of my virtuous ardour, I am not intended
to be a Joseph: yet I do not desire to influence
you against your inclination; I
like to be indebted to the affect of a
woman for the happiness she may bestow.’”

Indignation gave Rose spirit to reply
“You have no right to insult me with
your presence. Had you wished to serve
me as a friend, and make some atonement
for your crimes to me, you could have
done it without mortifying me with the
sight of you.”

“I shall leave you, and say no more
now, as I intend calling to-morrow. Consult
your heart in the meanwhile, and reflect
whether you will be a neglected
prude, or a beloved darling. Conquer
your prejudices about my being married;
every sensible person will laugh at them.”

Rose made him no answer, being quite exhausted E11v 94
exhausted with the exertion of speaking
to him before, as she felt exceedingly weak
and faint. He now wished her good-
morning, saying she might depend on seeing
him again, when he hoped to find her
in a better and more reasonable humour.
It was with indescribably satisfaction that
she saw him depart, and it was some pleasure
that his visit had been short; yet the
prospect of a repetition of it, when he
would probably conduct himself differently,
caused in her perturbed mind the most
serious apprehension. She resolved therefore
to request, as a very great favour, of
the master and mistress of the house, that
they would not allow captain Courtenay
to be admitted to her apartment.

Yet the idea of their not complying
with her entreaties, and being forced to
see him the next day, thrilled her with
horror. The recollection of her beloved
sir Eglamour made her still more averse
to meeting this worthless man, as she
could not endure expressions of attachmentment E12r 95
from any one but him she faithfully
loved, and who merited the most true and
exquisite tenderness. Inwardly she implored
Heaven to rescue her from a trial
so severe, and from the house that now
sheltered her, as the thought of sleeping
in such a place was misery most poignant.

The windows were all fenced with
strong bars; even the yard at the back
of the house was guarded with bars at the
top, which alarmed her in the case of fire.
Should such an accident happen, Rose feared
that escape would be impossible, more
particularly as the squinting woman told
her she was to sleep in one of the attics
near her; it was very dangerous, if the
house was on fire, to be on the highest
floor in it. Her uneasiness was likewise
increased by the look and manner of this
woman, to whom she felt an involuntary
repugnance, notwithstanding her civility.

At two o’clock the mistress of the house
sent up her dinner, cooked so indifferently
that she only ate a few mouthfuls, which refreshed E12v 96
refreshed her very little; and for this
wretched meal they charged her an enormous
price. After dinner, her mother’s
landlord, Mr. Linn, called to see her, and
inquired if he could be of any service? At
the sight of him, who reminded Rose of
her mother, her sister, and Felix, from
whom she was at present most painfully
separated, she was overcome with emotion,
and for the first time since her captivity
burst into tears.

With humanity that would have graced
a more exalted station, the good man
strove to impart consolation, and offered
to go anywhere, or convey any messages
for her. In consequence of these obliging
offers, Rose requested him to wait on her
father’s solicitor, and explain her situation.
She then asked after Jane, and was
informed that she suffered inexpressible
affliction, not having forgot that she was
a sister.

Mr. Linn went away. Evening came,
and no favourable event, promising her release, F1r 97
release, had yet occurred. Tea was brought
to her, and while she was drinking it, and
endeavouring to reconcile her mind to remaining
all night, as it appeared inevitable,
footsteps were heard coming hastily
up stairs. Many persons were confined in
this house, which the woman said was
nearly full; therefore different people were
constantly going up and down, which excluded
every hope of its being visitors to
herself, till the door suddenly opened.
Two respectable strangers entered; one of
them, a tall handsome young man, imparted
the pleasing intelligence that he was
arrived to restore her to liberty, and the
other, considerably older, a short, stout,
dark man, she found was employed by
the lawyer who had arrested her by desire
of the linendraper.

The handsome young man observed, that
it was a very unpleasant situation for a lady,
and Rose replied that it was both new and
distressing indeed.

Vol. III. F He F1v 98

He now produced a paper, which he
desired her to sign, and left the room for
a few minutes. When he was gone, the
dark man seemed to pity her, and said it
was shameful to arrest a lady for so trifling
a sum.

“You will think it much worse then,”
rejoined Rose, “when you hear that it is
my mother’s debt, not mine. I do not
understand any thing of law, but I should
imagine the people who have acted thus
unjustly might be punished; besides, I
perceive in this paper they have arrested
me in my mother’s name, Caroline Douglas,
and not in the name of Rose Douglas.”

“You had better sign Caroline Douglas,”
replied the dark man; but before she
had done so the handsome young man returned,
who said—“Miss Douglas, your
servant is here; shall she be admitted?”

Rose thanked him, and answered in the
affirmative. He went out again, and introduced
Kamira, whose countenance, strikingly F2r 99
strikingly altered with weeping the greater
part of the day, quite affected Rose, who
could scarcely recognize her.

The handsome man now requested Miss
Douglas
to sign the paper with her own
name, though she told him the other gentleman
desired she would not. He now
requested the people of the house to bring
their bill, in a very harsh voice. It amounted
to a great deal, as they charged extravagantly
for the use of the room, fire, candles,
and the uncomfortable meals they
had provided. Kamira had brought a
hackney-coach, which waited to convey
her lady home. The gentlemen attended
her down stairs, and the porter at the inner
door requested she would give him some
money. Reluctantly she gave him eighteen-pence,
and the woman three shillings,
at which Kamira grumbled, saying—“You
ought not give money to people lock you
up—make you prisoner.”

The gentlemen took leave of Rose, who
got into the coach with a joy not to be describedF2 scribed F2v 100
or conceived, but by those who
have experienced the misery of such a situation.
It was impossible for her to guess
who had procured her liberty, but, highly
rejoiced at the circumstance, she would
not make herself uneasy about it.

“Oh! me, me cannot say,” exclaimed
Kamira, “what me suffer at see you sitting
in the prison-room with the two gentlemen!
Me thought my poor heart burst;
but me happy now.”

“I am sorry to have been the occasion of
making you unhappy, my faithful creature,”
replied Rose: “but let us only
think of the happiness I now enjoy. I
cannot conjecture to whose goodness I am
indebted for my freedom.”

“Ah, me know all about it. ’Tis sweet,
pretty lady Elinor,”
exclaimed Kamira.
“She called with elderly gentleman to see
you. When she ask me for you, I wring
my hands, I shake my head, and cry very
much—say too, you take away by two
wicked men. My lady ask where you gone, F3r 101
gone, name of street, and gentleman too.
Me tell her all about it. My lady say, ‘don’t
fret, you see her again; she shall be with
you at night.’
Me go down on my knees,
me kiss her feet; but she no let me—she
give me her little white hand to kiss. This
night elderly gentleman come to me; he
give me money to pay hackney-coach,
and told me to go fetch you from spungy-
house: that is all.”

“What an angel lady Elinor is!” said
Rose. “I feel grateful to her beyond the
power of language to express. Almost a
stranger to me, and to have such angelic
goodness and compassion, while those who
have known me much longer neglect and
forsake me, because I am in distress, after
the most ardent and unasked professions of
friendship. How I shall ever love her!
It appears as if this new friend was sent
to console me for the loss of one I truly
loved.”

The hackney-coach now stopped at her
lodgings in South Audley-street, where F3 Jane F3v 102
Jane welcomed her sister with unfeigned
pleasure. Never had Jane displayed more
sensibility than at the fatal instant when
Rose was conveyed from their residence
to the spunging-house, which imparted a
pleasing consolation, as it convinced her
sister she had become more affectionate
than formerly. Adversity is the only
school for improving the mind. Rose immediately
wrote a letter of grateful acknowledgment
to lady Elinor, in which
she mentioned that she was anxious to
soon have an opportunity of expressing
her thanks in person, and hoped her ladyship
would indulge her by calling shortly
in South Audley-street.

Mr. and Mrs. Linn received her on her
return with the utmost cordiality, and
were rejoiced at her not having remained
all night in confinement, having, they assured
her, been very uneasy, from the fear
that she would be detained at the spunging-house
till the next day.

Rose was exceedingly pleased with their behaviour F4r 103
behaviour, having been apprehensive of
their treating her with disrespect, from the
disagreeable circumstance of her having
been arrested, which convinced her they
were worthy good people.

Lady Elinor waited on Miss Douglas
the following morning, with the elderly
gentleman Kamira had spoken of. He
was a distant relation of the earl of Arlberry,
her father, and his name Murray.
His age was seventy-five, but he did not
look older than sixty, from having always
been virtuous, temperate, and benevolent.

Rose was more fascinated than ever
with the manners and conversation of
lady Elinor. She would not hint at the
favour she had conferred; and when she
suspected that Rose wished to enter on
the subject, avoided it with the greatest
delicacy. Mr. Murray had been very fond
of lady Elinor from a child, which affection
she warmly returned, being grateful
for his constant endeavours to add to
her happiness when so young. Into her F4 youthful F4v 104
youthful mind he instilled the necessity
of being beneficent; and that by promoting
the welfare of our fellow-creatures
in distress, we increase our own felicity.
The sentiments of him lady Elinor revered
and loved as a second parent she
naturally adopted, and became the same
humane, good, and charitable character.
To behold such virtue in a lovely young
lady touches the heart even more than
when we contemplate excellence in advanced
age.

At an early period of his life, Mr. Murray
was in very narrow circumstances,
from having had an extravagant father.
In consequence of being thus situated, he
established himself at Lisbon, as a wine-
merchant, where, in a few years, he realized
a handsome fortune. Mr. Richard
Murray
related many anecdotes to Rose,
which gave her a very favourable impression
of the Portuguese character. Mr.
Richard Murray
, at one time, when he
was in business as a merchant, had considerablederable F5r 105
property, and much money owing
to him; but from having bills unexpectedly
presented for payment, to the amount
of five thousand pounds, he thought he
must become a bankrupt, and was going to
take refuge in a convent, where people in
embarrassment in Portugal always fly. As
he was walking on his way there, he met
a Portuguese gentleman, with whom he
often played at chess in the evening.

“You look melancholy to-day, signor
Ricardo
,”
said the gentleman, for he was
called in Portugal Ricardo, from his Christian
name being Richard.

Mr. Richard Murray replied, that he
was very dull, as he was going to a convent.

“But why go to a convent?” rejoined
the Portuguese.

Mr. Murray then related his situation,
which moved the generous, feeling Portuguese,
who instantly lent him money sufficient
to extricate him from his difficulties;
and he became more flourishing than F5 before. F5v 106
before. This made Mr. Richard Murray
very partial to the natives of Portugal, of
whom he recounted several instances of
their ardour when they formed a friendship,
which proved their warmth of heart.
He gave away a large fortune among them
in charity. Every week three hundred
beggars assembled at his door on a certain
day, and were relieved, besides many others
to whom he allowed monthly pay. Mr.
Richard Murray
resided chiefly in Portugal,
and only visited England occasionally,
as he was now growing very old. He
told Rose, that she resembled a young lady
to whom he was ardently attached at
twenty—“That is the reason, Miss Douglas,”
added Mr. Murray, “that I am an old
bachelor.”

“As you say I resemble the object of
your early regard,”
replied Rose, “may I,
without being impertinent, ask how you
came to be separated from her?”

“I discovered, after our attachment had
taken place some months, that she was a Roman F6r 107
Roman Catholic; and, as I was a Protestant,
I was averse to marrying any one of
a different religion, as all my relations
would have been indignant at my making
such a choice, to which I felt repugnant
myself. This prevented our union, as she
would not change her religion. Thus was
I doomed to be disappointed in love, for I
could never attach myself to any other woman,
though she was easily consoled, and
married soon after. You are, young lady,
the only person that ever resembled her
in my opinion. I resided opposite to her
father’s house in Lisbon; and at the beginning
of our attachment, she would
come into the balcony in the evening, in
her walking-dress. I then appeared at
my window, and that was the signal for
our walking out together. But I hope,
Miss Douglas, you will be more fortunate
in love than my mistress and myself; for
I was informed she lived very miserably,
and always wished she had been my wife.”

“Probably,” observed Rose, “it is for F6 the F6v 108
the advantage of society that you have remained
single. Had you been married,
you would not have had so much time to
devote to the unfortunate; your attention
would have been engaged with your
wife and family.”

Rose said this, as she recollected hearing
in company his name mentioned as one of
the most beneficent of beings, who passed
every day in searching out and relieving
the wretched victims of misfortune.

Mr. Richard Murray smiled, and told
her she had never been in love, or she
would not think any thing could compensate
for the loss of the object of her attachment.

Lady Elinor now informed Rose, that
she was to remove the following morning
from lady Morrington’s to her father’s
house in Berkley-square, as the earl of
Arlberry
was expected in a few days in
town. Her ladyship added, that she
should be happy to see her frequently, and
it would be very convenient, as they were at F7r 109
at a short distance from each other. Lady
Elinor
and Mr. Murray soon after took
leave, to the regret of Rose and her sister,
as they were both amiable and agreeable.

Lady Morrington had exerted every
malignant power to prejudice lady Elinor
against Rose Douglas, and prevent her from
visiting in South Audley-street. Lady
Elinor
was mildness and sweet itself,
with a fine understanding, and a great
deal of penetration; easily she perceived,
therefore, that lady Morrington was of a
very envious jealous disposition, and Miss
Douglas
and her sister too young and
lovely to be really favourites. From several
expressions her ladyship inadvertently
repeated, she clearly betrayed that she
had been only civil to these young ladies
from supposing they would, and lately
had, inherited a very large fortune.
Lady Morrington’s ill-natured satirical
spechesspeeches inclined lady Elinor, who had a
very firm strong mind, to think more
highly of Rose, as she despised unprovokeded F7v 110
malevolence, and was particularly captivated
with her unaffected sense and softness.

Lady Elinor admired the beautiful colour
that tinted the cheek and animated
the countenance of Miss Douglas. When
she observed to lady Morrington how
much she admired the blooming look of
health that distinguished her, her ladyship
exclaimed, in a splenetic tone—“Nobody
gives her credit for it; most people
say she is painted.”

This speech quite disgusted lady Elinor,
who thought it so unkind and illiberal,
that she determined to evince more attention
for the young lady thus meanly slandered;
for to this untruth lady Morrington
added another. She asserted that the
conduct of Rose was incorrect, and that she
flirted too much.—“I do not say she has
acted criminally,”
continued her ladyship,
“but imprudently—with too much levity.”

Lady Elinor’s discernment soon discovered
why she criticised her so unmercifully,cifully, F8r 111
and also calumniated the unoffending
girl, evidently because she was prejudiced
in her favour. She discerned the
falsehood of her description, for Rose was
cheerful, without any improper vivacity
that borders on indiscretion.

The character her ladyship had drawn
of her would have been more applicable
to Jane formerly, before misfortune had
corrected her errors. Since her separation
from Guildford, she was amazingly improved,
and the alteration afforded her mother
the most refined pleasure. Every letter
Jane had received from colonel Guilford
since they left Devonshire gave a satisfactory
account of little Caroline, whom she
was impatient to embrace, and anxious,
for her sake, to return to Treharne.

Rose sent to Piccadilly, to gain information
of Mary’s (now lady Beaufort’s)
residence, and received the intelligence of
her being at Twickenham, with his lordship.
Miss Douglas immediately addressed
a letter to her, congratulating Mary on her F8v 112
her marriage, which she imagined had prevented
her from thinking of a friend truly
attached to her, who would always feel
the most sincere regard, if treated with
still greater unkindness. Notwithstanding
her engagements, Rose continued to
say, that she was convinced she would
be glad to hear she was released, by the
goodness of an excellent friend, from her
severe difficulties, which had caused her
to suffer most cruelly.

Though Rose forgave Mary for her unfeeling
neglect, yet she could not help
shedding tears as the reflection obtruded
and pointed out the obduracy, ungentleness,
and unfriendliness of her behaviour.

While she was sealing this letter, which
had occasioned very painful thoughts, Kamira
entered the room—“Me sorry interrupt
you, but gentleman come, wish
speak you directly.”

“Who is it?” said Rose.

“Me do not know.”

Rose immediately went down, and found Eustace F9r 113
Eustace, who seemed rejoiced to behold
her again—“How could you say you did
not know who it was, Kamira?”

“Gentleman told to me, ‘You not tell;
it make good surprise for Miss Douglas:
she please, and me not forgive you, you
tell her.’”

Rose could not help smiling at this account,
as it appeared that Eustace flattered
himself she would be uncommonly glad
to see him. In the course of conversation,
he disclosed to Miss Douglas and her sister
that his affairs were arranged sooner
than he expected, and that he had recovered
a considerable sum of money owing to
him, which had quite banished all his
cares, and he felt much happier than when
he left England. He mentioned that he
had visited Treharne, where he obtained
their address in town, and how much he
was shocked at observing the destruction
of that venerable building by the fire.
Eustace expressed such infinite joy at seeing
Rose, and evinced friendship so truly affectionate, F9v 114
affectionate, that it was impossible to avoid
being pleased with a conduct quite opposite
to the behaviour she expected from
him; it convinced her that his temper
was more faulty than his heart. The examples
revealed to her, of the perfidy and
ingratitude too prevalent, made her view
with satisfaction and esteem a character
apparently capable of gratitude, of which
instances were very rare, although this virtue
was strikingly illustrated in the disposition
of the grateful and faithful Kamira.

Rose considered Eustace as an addition
to the number of her friends, and related
to him the disagreeable circumstances attendant
on the death of sir James Douglas,
and that her father’s claim to the estates
was disputed.

Eustace evidently sympathized in every
sorrow that afflicted her, and entreated,
if she wanted money at any time, that she
would apply to him, as he had not forgotten
her kindness, when severe adversity
pressed heavily, and threatened his inevitabletable F10r 115
ruin.—“Though I have been fortunate
in many respects,”
continued Eustace,
“one event, exceedingly vexatious,
has happened, which you will be concerned
to hear. My old relation is dead, and
not bequeathed me a shilling, after all his
repeated promises. Is it not aggravating,
when he buoyed up my hopes for a number
of years?”

“Perhaps if you had inherited all the
wealth he possessed, you would not have
been so happy as you are now. You
appear gay and cheerful; and if you had
received great riches, great cares would
have attended them, and instead of being
lively, your anxiety would be increased,
from solicitude respecting this long-expected
fortune.”

Eustace laughed—“Your philosophical
observations are very good, but I confess
I should prefer having plenty of money;
I cannot acquiesce with your opinion on
that subject.”

As they were conversing, Mrs. Linn was F10v 116
was introduced by Kamira. She was a
good-natured vulgar woman, and said to
Rose“You had a letter from Scotland,
I understand, this morning, Miss Douglas,
saying your papa was much better,
and out of danger, which I be very glad
to hear. Now, Miss, as this is the case, I
should be vastly glad if you would come
to the play with me; and your sister would
like to go, I think.”

At this moment Jane entered, and Mrs.
Linn
told her, she had just received eight
tickets for the pit at Covent-garden, and
hoped she would persuade her sister to go
there.—“It will divert you both a little, I
think,”
said Mrs. Linn, “after all the
trouble you have been in. It is a deep
tragedy, which I like better than comedy,
called Manymé the Orphan, or the Unhappy
Marriage
. Thank God! I know
nothing about unhappy marriages, for a
better husband than mine never trod the
blessed earth. Howsomever, it is very
moving.”

“Do F11r 117

“Do let us accompany Mrs. Linn,” exclaimed
Jane to her sister: “it will be
really entertaining; and we ought to oblige
Mrs. Linn, who has been so kind and attentive
to us.”

“I am sure I shall take it as a great honour,”
replied Mrs. Linn. “We shall be a
snug genteel party. Count Kenyosky”

(the nobleman who lodged with her), “Mrs.
Duncan
, who is quite the lady, are to be
with us; a cousin of mine from the country;
and I shall be vastly happy if this
gentleman will accept a ticket,”
meaning
Eustace, “if he likes to go.”

Eustace thanked her, and said he should
be happy to attend them. Rose would
not decline this invitation, as her sister
was disposed to accept it, yet reluctantly
consented, from never having been in the
pit before. To this situation in the theatre
she had formed an aversion, from the apprehension
of having any thing thrown
from the galleries on her head, and likewise
fearful of being discovered by her fashionable acquaintance, F11v 118
acquaintance, who were disposed to be satirical
and ill-natured.

When Mrs. Linn quitted the drawing-
room, much pleased with the success of her
embassy, Eustace observed—“We shall
have excellent diversion, as such a motley
group will seldom be seen assembled together.”

“Very true,” replied Rose, “but if I
refused going, as I am under obligations
to them, they would think me proud and
ungrateful, and I would rather suffer still
greater mortification, than appear to be
haughty and deficient in gratitude.”

Count Kenyosky was a fat good-humoured-looking
man, but inelegant in his
appearance; and the sisters had often remarked
to each other, that no one would
suppose he was a nobleman. Mrs. Duncan
was the wife of an officer of high rank in
the army, who was gone abroad. Mr.
Linn
had been employed many years by
colonel Duncan; and as he knew that his
wife and himself were respectable worthy people, F12r 119
people, though vulgar, he had placed Mrs.
Duncan
to board in a family they were acquainted
with. The colonel engaged Mr.
and Mrs. Linn
to observe that Mrs. Duncan
was taken proper care of, as she was a
Spanish lady, and had no acquaintance in
England. It was not his wish that she
should form any connexions till he returned
from abroad, but live in retirement,
as his Scotch relations were displeased
at his having married a foreigner,
and a Roman Catholic.

Mrs. Linn detailed all this information
to Miss Douglas before she was introduced
to the lady, who spoke EnglsihEnglish exceedingly
well. Her complexion was very
dark—her manners extremely pleasing,
and she had a melancholy air which interested
Rose, as she attributed it to
grief at being separated from her husband.

Mrs. Linn’s country cousin was a good-
looking young man, who appeared simplicity
itself. His dialect was very provincial,vincial, F12v 120
but he seemed an amiable beneficent
creature.

When the party entered the pit, it was
quite early, and the performance did not
commence for a long time afterwards. The
country cousin placed himself on one side
of Rose, and Eustace on the other.

“Do but look, Miss Douglas,” said the
former, “at that young man, and two
young women with him. They appear as
if they only came here to stuff their maw.”

Rose directed her eyes to them, and
perceived that all three were eating almonds
and raisins, apples, oranges, and
cakes, as if for a wager. The young man
was placed between the females, who tittered,
and seemed highly diverted when
he poured some liquid out of a bottle for
them to drink. One of the young women
had a large white face, bloated with
good-living, and looked so inanimate and
greedy, that it was really a portrait of
heavy gluttony.

“It makes me sick to look at that white-
faced young woman,”
said the simple cousin;sin; G1r 121
“her face is like a piece of dough.
It astonishes me that the young man can
be so civil to her, for he seems to be a
sweetheart. To be sure, there is no accounting
for liking, but I could not fancy
such a stupid gormandizing thing.”

Rose smiled, and could not but approve
the aversion he expressed.

Near this group was seated a handsome
gentlemanly man, with a morose
countenance, and by his side a pretty
Frenchwoman, evidently his wife. He
seemed very discontented because they
waited a long time before the play began.

“I am quite tired of staying here,” he
growled out, in a peevish surly tone.
“If the performance does not begin soon,
I shall leave the theatre.”

“Patience, patience!” replied the sweet
Frenchwoman, in a soft harmonious voice,
which, contrasted with the harsh tones
and fretful manner of her husband, quite
entertained Rose.

Miss Douglas now looked round the
house, and gazed at an old lady, dressed Vol. III. G very G1v 122
very gaudily, in one of the lower boxes.
The poor old lady had been afflicted with
the palsy, and her head shook so much,
that every eye was directed at her. Rose
was concerned at her want of understanding
in making herself a public shew, as
she attracted the notice of all the spectators.
She regretted that the old lady
did not seek more rational and retired
amusement.

This evening seemed destined for elderly
ladies to make themselves quite gazing-
stocks. Another, about the same age as
the former, being exceedingly deaf, had a
speaking-trumpet of an uncommon length,
which looked very ridiculous, hanging
over the side of the box.

The part of Monimia was inimitably
well performed; and during one very affecting
scene, Rose could not help crying.

Mrs. Linn perceived her emotion, and
called out to her—“Come, come, Miss!
what nonsense is this, crying for a sham!
Now, Miss, I thought you had more sense, G2r 123
sense, and would not be so foolish as to
cry for a sham—No, no, indeed.”

This ridiculous speech quite dried up
her tears, and its absurdity inclined her
rather to laugh than weep.

When the play was nearly finished,
Rose discovered lady Elinor in one of the
private boxes with lady Morrington and
sir Henry Arundel. Sir Henry she thought
looked very dull, though her ladyship was
talking to him with apparent energy, and
another gentleman to lady Elinor.

The entertainment now took place; and
just before it began, a blind man was led in.

“Only think how odd it is, Miss!” said
Mrs. Linn; “here is a blind man come
to see the play!”

“To hear the music, undoubtedly,” replied
Rose, “as it is a musical entertainment.”

The eccentricity of her companions
quite diverted her, and the singularity of
the country cousin more particularly than
the others. A fashionable fop, in the
upper boxes, dressed in the extreme of G2 fashion, G2v 124
fashion, made a very ludicrous appearance,
as most men do who are attired to the
highest degree of foppery.

“You do not dress in such a coxcomical
style in the country?”
said Rose to the
cousin.

“Oh no, Miss Douglas; it would not
do to dress in that manner with our
country way of speaking; it will not suit,
and be quite out of character.”

Rose thought this observation truly
sensible; and as Eustace was obliged to
quit the theatre before the entertainment
was quite finished, the cousin offered her
his arm.

As she proceeded with him and the rest
of the party to South Audley-street, he informed
her that he was come to town to
consult a physician respecting his health,
and had been with one that morning, who
was allowed to be very skilful.

“You surprise me,” rejoined Rose, “as
you appear the picture of health.”

“You can’t judge by appearances, Miss; they G3r 125
they are very deceiving. Certainly mine
is an odd sort of a complaint—it is being
always hungry, and having constantly a
craving for food. The doctor asked me
how many meals I ate every day? and I
told him, when I got up in the morning,
I had a quart-bason of milk and bread;
at breakfast, two rounds of hot buttered
toast, and tea; bread and cheese for my
lunch; and at dinner, at least a pound and
a half of solid meat, with vegetables, and
half of the pudding, to which I helped
myself. The physician said to me—‘But
if you take half the pudding, as you are
a large family, what is there left for the
others but scanty fare?’
—I replied, that
the rest did not mind pudding much.—
‘That is lucky for you,’ added the doctor:
‘but tell me, do you take any refreshment
between dinner and tea?’
‘Oh yes, sir,’ I
rejoined; ‘I could not wait all that time
without food; and at tea I make nothing
of two thick rounds from the quartern
loaf, either of bread and butter or toast, G3 no G3v 126
no matter which, for I am not dainty. At
supper I partake heartily of cold meat and
bread and cheese: yet, after all this,’
says
I to the physician, ‘I am hungry if I wake
in the middle of the night, and that is the
reason I waited upon you, to crave your
advice, as some people say I have a wolf
in my stomach; and others, that they
would rather keep me a day than a month,
which is very cutting.’
When I had finished speaking, he
kept on laughing.—‘La, sir,’ said I, ‘how
droll it is to see you laughing so! it makes
me laugh too. You’ll excuse me, I hope,
as I have been brought up in this country
way, and don’t know any better; therefore,
pray make an allowance for me.’
It was so comical to see us both laughing!
but the doctor was the best tempered
man I ever did know, and told me I must
not eat milk in the morning, but keep a
hard biscuit in my pocket, which I was
to be constantly eating, and that he doubted
not, if I observed this advice, that I shall G4r 127
shall soon be better, for it is very disagreeable
to feel continually as if one was
starved.”

Rose smiled all the time he was giving
her this curious account, and was not surprised
at the physician’s risibility being
excited.

Miss Douglas and her sister wished all
the party “good-night,” when they arrived
at home, and retired to the drawing-
room, where Mrs. Linn soon joined them,
to inform Rose and Jane that her cousin
was a most respectable young man, though
“countrified”, as she styled him. She described
him as the “man without guile,”
and truly good and benevolent. Of children
he was excessively fond, and never
so happy as when enjoying their innocent
society. To the poor people in the
neighbourhood where he resided, he was
most beneficent, and almost daily carried a
basket filled with useful presents for the
indigent rustics and their children.

Rose assured Mrs. Linn that she felt G4 much G4v 128
much obliged for having been introduced
to such an amiable character. Beneficence
thus pure in a young man was rare and
estimable.

The next morning Rose and Jane, before
they walked in the Park, entered Mrs.
Linn’s
parlour, to inquire after her health,
but were going to retreat when they perceived
she was conversing with two strange
gentlemen.

“Don’t run away, ladies—I insist upon
it you do not!”
exclaimed this good-natured
vulgar woman; “I have no secrets.
One of these gentlemen is settling about
boarding with me, as our Jarman count
talks of leaving soon for Jarmany. Come,
sit down, ladies; I shall be vexed if you
don’t.”

Rose and Jane complied, and had leisure,
while the younger of the gentlemen
was speaking to Mrs. Linn, to look at
them both. The elder of the gentlemen
was apparently about forty, and the other,
a dashing-looking young man, appeared to G5r 129
to be six-and-twenty.—“I hope,” said he
to Mrs. Linn, “that your husband is not
infirm, as I should not like to board with
any one who was so. I must also inform
you, that I expected every day to have an
original dinner.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir, by
an original dinner.”

“Then, madam, I will explain it—I
mean something dressed fresh and hot
every day.”

“My friend,” said the elderly man,
“paid three hundred a-year at the boarding-house
where he resided last, and I
think he ought to have been well treated
for that sum, which is not commonly
given.”

“So I think, sir,” replied Mrs. Linn;
“it is a very handsome price, and you
may be sure, if he pays it me, he shall
have fish, flesh, and fowl too, hot every
day.”

“I was quite disgusted with a boarding-house,”
said the dashing young man; G5 “for G5v 130
“for that reason I intend to board in a
private family. You would hardly believe
it, madam, but we had daily hachis,
or grillé, till I was quite tired of it—never
an original meal. Sunday was the only
flash dinner, and then, unfortunately, I
always dined out.”

“I never heard of hashee and grillee before,
sir,”
ejaculated Mrs. Linn; “I suppose
they be some new-fangled dishes. I
don’t know how much of your fashionable victuals,
though I can dress cutlets mantenong
way as well as any body; and for
good boiled and roast, nobody, I’ll be bold
to say, can dress a dinner better. As for
pastry and puddings, I have them at my
fingers’ ends; and if you should be poorly
at any time, I can make you a good
drop of broth or gruel with any one, let
them be who they will.”

“I doubt not, madam, being very comfortable
under your protection and roof,
yet I cannot give a decisive answer at present.
I have several other places to visit; but G6r 131
but rely on hearing from me to-morrow.
Good-morning, madam—good morning,
ladies!”
and with a graceful bow he quitted
the parlour, followed by his companion.

When the street-door closed on them,
Mrs. Linn said, in a doleful voice—“I
believe I have been throwing away my
time in listening to these fellows, who, I
think, on second thoughts, are a couple of
swindlers, going about making fools of
people they are not likely to cheat. If I
don’t hear from them to-morrow, I shall
set them down for what I have said. Three
hundredy a-year indeed! a likely story!—
few people would give so extravagant a
price, with his hashee and his grillee; for
all he is decked out so smart, and talks of
his fine dishes, I dare say his belly is
pretty empty—he looks as lank as a greyhound,
and would be glad of a good mutton-hash,
such as I make, with mushroom
catsup.”

“I am of the same opinion, Mrs. Linn,
as yourself,”
replied Rose, “respecting G6 their G6v 132
their being swindlers; but confess I have
been highly diverted with the dasher’s
original dinners; there is something quite
new in the expression.”

Jane acknowledged that she had been
equally entertained.

“I dare to say,” exclaimed Mrs. Linn,
“that if I had been a lone woman, they
would have thought to take me in: but
they should have seen they had the wrong
sow by the ear, if I had not been married.”

The sisters now quitted Mrs. Linn;
and when they came back from their accustomed
walk in Hyde-park, found an
order from the colonel of the regiment to
which Felix belonged, commanding him
to join his battalion immediately. It was
going to be stationed at Edinburgh; and
Rose felt a consolation, since he was obliged
to leave them, at the prospect of his residing
near their parents. The colonel observed,
very politely, that it was impossible,
in the present position of affairs, to
grant him any additional leave of absence, though, G7r 133
though,flawed-reproduction2-3 words period, he would in-
flawed-reproduction2-3 wordstion. Rose instantly for-
flawed-reproduction2-3 wordsetter to Richmond, and Felix
flawed-reproduction1-2 words her in a few hours.

How much did Rose rejoice at having
concealed the adventure with the linendraper
from him, and that the painful circumstance
had happened when he was
absent! The knowledge of such an event
befalling his dear sister Rose would have
made his susceptible and affectionate mind
quite miserable; it would have induced
him to apply then to his father, who might
have been inconvenienced to obtain this
sum, in addition to his other expences. Her
grateful heart glowed with warmest gratitude
to that sweet benevolent creature,
lady Elinor, whom she valued as her
guardian angel; goodness, thus exquisite
and rare, had saved her from excess of
misery, and shielded her from being exposed
to repeated insults from Courtenay,
who would ungenerously, she feared, have taken G7v 134
taken advantage of her forlorn and unprotected
situation.

Rose was mentally reflecting with pleasure
on the perfections that adorned lady
Elinor’s
character, when the object of her
contemplation called to see her. Her ladyship
was introduced to Felix, who attended
them soon after to a fashionable auction,
as he was allowed three days’ indulgence,
to have his new clothes made, and procure
several military articles that he required.

Here they met lady Beaufort, who pretended
to be very happy to meet her,
which Rose, from the attachment she had
ever entertained for her, too weakly and
readily credited.

When they quitted the auction-room,
lady Elinor observed—“There is something
in lady Beaufort’s countenance that
does not please me—it is inanimate and
malevolent; and I have heard her make
the most spiteful remarks on you, though
I understand she professes to be your intimatemate G8r 135
friend, which gave me a vile opinion
of her, since I have known you speak
in the highest terms of her. I cannot
therefore admire your discernment in the
choice of a friend. Did you never observe
how intolerably vain she is?”

“I loved her so sincerely, that I could
not discover any fault in her disposition.
Yet she judges me guilty of the greatest
crime—a crime which the world in general
never pardons.”

“What is it?” replied lady Elinor.

“Poverty,” rejoined Rose, smiling—“an
offence that is not to be forgiven by worldly
characters. If they find you justly
chargeable with this crime, they give you
credit for every vice and failing.”

Felix and lady Elinor were amused
with this assertion, and acknowledged its
usual correctness. They set Felix down
at his hatter’s, and proceeded to South
Audley-street
, where lady Elinor left
her.

Jane did not accompany them, from beinging G8v 136
engaged in writing a long letter to
colonel Guilford, to make amends for having
neglected to answer his last epistle.

Rose had just divested herself of her
bonnet and pelisse, when Kamira summoned
her to sir Henry Arundel. His visit
was to Felix, and on being informed he
was out on military business, he asked for
the ladies. Jane said she would join them
when she had finished her letter, and Rose
was compelled to attend sir Henry.

His countenance brightened with inward
satisfaction at meeting with her
alone, an opportunity which he had long
sighed for, but never before obtained, as
he had an aversion to disclosing his sentiments
in writing. By personally avowing
his passion, he imagined it more easy to
discern if his suit was acceptable to the object
of his enamoured fancy.

With a perturbation of mind that raised
him in her esteem, as it convinced Rose of
the truth of his regard, sir Henry unequivocally
and candidly declared the long attachmenttachment G9r 137
that had been concealed in his
bosom for her, who was the only woman
that had ever made an impression on his
heart.

It deeply wounded Rose to decline the
addresses, and inflict pain on the mind of
so amiable and accomplished a man, who
honoured her by his selection and offer of
his hand, in preference to many other females
who were solicitous to attract his
attention; but the recollection of her loved
Delavalle, and the genuine affection she
felt for him alone, that neither time, absence,
nor any event, could lessen, influenced
her to decisively, though in the
mildest and most delicate manner, reject
his addresses.

Sir Henry betrayed an emotion at her
refusal, that she had never before witnessed,
and was affected so vehemently, that
he even shed tears.

The tender heart of Rose could not behold
unmoved such exquisite sensibility
and ardent regard; it made her quite miserable; G9v 138
miserable; and in a voice hardly articulate
and intelligible, from suppressed internal
agitation and grief, she assured sir Henry,
that had her affection not been previously
engaged, before his declaration of esteem,
there was no man who would have preferred
to him, or whose love would have flattered
her more. This prior engagement,
she hoped, would be a sufficient apology
to him, who was so honourable himself,
for her declining to give him any encouragement.

A confession thus kind and gentle softened,
in a slight degree, the severe pangs
his disappointment and her rejection had
caused. At this interesting moment Jane
entered, and guessed what had passed,
from the expression of melancholy in sir
Henry’s
countenance, and the serious air
Rose wore. To revive their spirits, she
said a number of ridiculous things, and
succeeded in restoring their composure.

When sir Henry was going, Rose held
out her hand to him. He respectfully took G10r 139
took it, and said, dejectedly—“Since I
have lost the cherished hope of acquiring
the title of your lover, which has for a tedious
interval been my highest ambition,
allow me the appellation that I value next
to it, the name of your friend. A true
and faithful one, if I am permitted that
honour, you will find me for life.”

Rose thanked him, and replied, with
unfeigned sincerity, that she should feel
truly gratified to rank him among the
number of her friends, for whom she already
had the highest esteem, the most
lasting foundation for friendship.

When he was gone, Rose exclaimed,
with a sigh—“How ardently do I wish
for my best beloved’s return, for I am unhappy
at being subjected to proposals of
marriage when I am engaged! It astonishes
me that any woman can like to be
a coquette, and take a pleasure in the uneasiness
of those who adore her, and whose
affection she has gained by a false appearance
of tenderness she does not feel. I wish G10v 140
wish I was married, and I should then be
protected from a repetition of similar unpleasant
scenes. Courtenay has given me
a distaste to professions of love—it is only
from my Delavalle’s lips that I wish to
hear that endearing word pronounced.”

Before Rose had quite finished speaking,
the count de Fontenai was announced.
Since they had met him at lady Morrington’s,
he had frequently visited them, and
was so assiduous and attentive to Jane,
that it inspired Rose with the expectation
that it would end in a mutual attachment,
and that she would enjoy the felicity of
seeing her happily united to a man who
really loved her, and that her parents would
approve.

De Fontenai requested to be allowed to
attend them to an exhibition of paintings
in the neighbourhood. Solicitous to oblige
the count, from the hope of seeing him
happily married to Jane, Rose instantly
complied, and persuaded her sister to accept
this invitation.

When G11r 141

When they entered the exhibition-room,
the first object their eyes encountered was
Mrs. Pryce, leaning on an elegant-looking
man’s arm, and waddling about from one
picture to the other.

Jane turned very pale at the sight of her
bitter enemy, the corrupt source of her
greatest errors, who had instigated Guilford
to plot her ruin, and by her vulgar
barbarity reduced her to the verge of the
grave. She trembled so excessively, that
it obliged her to hold De Fontenai’s arm
more firmly, and she moved on with him
and her sister, almost unconscious where
she was. That she might not be recognized
by her was her utmost wish, and
she hoped it, as the room was very full of
company.

Doomed, however, to disappointment,
at the moment when Jane thought she had
escaped, and she was going away, Mrs.
Pryce
turned back, saying—“Let us have
another look,”
and rather rolling than walking,
advanced again to the top of the room, opposite G11v 142
opposite to where De Fontenai and his fair
companions were standing.

No sooner did this malicious woman
glance her eye on the party, than she instantly
knew them, and with all the malice
inherent in her wicked disposition, inelegantly
bawled out—“How do you do,
Mrs. Guilford?”
and boldly approached
Jane. “How is your child?” she malignantly
continued; “well, I hope? You
look better than you did before your confinement
—quite like a single Miss.”

Rose was now as white as her sister,
who sunk insensible into De Fontenai’s
arms, that eagerly supported her.

“What affectation?” cried Mrs. Pryce;
“fine airs indeed! not very becoming in
Guilford’s mistress!”

The natural gentleness of Rose yielded
to the resentment she felt at the author of
her sister’s indiscretion daring to publicly
and brutally insult her, and she exclaimed,
with great spirit—“Begone, woman!
you have no right to insult my sister—you who G12r 143
who have been the cause of all the affliction
that has overwhelmed her! Your sex
is disgraced by your infamous unfeeling
conduct.”

“Femme barbare! monstre!” ejaculated
the count, in an indignant tone; “if
you presume to address these young ladies
with any additional impertinence and
insolence, I shall forget your sex, and chastise
you as you merit. The gentleman
your protector shall not prevent your receiving
the chastisement your barbarity deserves.”

High words now ensued between the
count and Mrs. Pryce’s companion, as De
Fontenai
had silenced her. They exchanged
cards, and the count was evidently
anxious to remove Jane from this situation,
that attracted every eye towards
them, as his lovely burthen continued
senseless.

A man belonging to the exhibition procured
a hackney-coach, in which they
placed Jane, who was beginning to recoverver G12v 144
from her swoon, and had quite regained
her senses when they reached home.
Though restored to animation, Jane felt
so ill and dejected, that Rose advised her
being undressed and put to bed.

In the meanwhile De Fontenai expressed
an anxiety respecting her sister, that
prepossessed Rose exceedingly, and made
her judge that his heart was feeling; and
his spirited behaviour in defence of Jane
heightened her good opinion. He would
not quit the house till informed of her recovery,
and that she had sunk into a calm
slumber.

The count came early the following
morning, to inquire after the health of
Miss Jane Douglas, who was not up, being
very ill and feverish.

Rose conjectured, from appearances,
that De Fontenai entertained a real attachment
for her sister; she concluded, therefore,
that if his love was as ardent as she
supposed, it would not be lessened if she
imparted the cruel deception practised by Mrs. H1r 145
Mrs. Pryce and colonel Guilford on her
innocent inexperienced sister, of whose
ignorance of the world they had basely
taken advantage. Miss Douglas reflected,
that if she did not relate the truth, the
count might form conjectures more disadvantageous
to Jane than the reality. Imprudence
alone could be attributed to her
in this unfortunate affair, for there was not
the least criminality attached to her; and
no man truly enamoured could object to
marrying her because she had been the
victim of deceit.

In answer to some question De Fontenai
put to her, relative to their acquaintance
with Mrs. Pryce, Rose replied, that if he
would promise not to betray the confidence
she was inclined to repose, from a
high opinion of his honour, she would develop,
without reserve, every circumstance
relating to Jane that at present appeared
mysterious.

The count assured her that she might
rely on the trust being sacred, and that he Vol. III. H would H1v 146
would sooner part with life than disclose
any event she condescended to confide.

In consequence of these protestations of
secrecy, Rose related the circumstances relative
to their first acquaintance with Mrs.
Pryce
, her subsequent artifices to persuade
Jane to visit her unknown to her family,
her introduction of colonel Guilford, and,
owing to her persuasion and manœuvres,
the fatal termination of this connexion in
a pretended marriage with the colonel.
Rose likewise related the cruel insults of
Mrs. Pryce, when Jane was placed in a situation
that would have melted any heart
less obdurate than that brutal woman’s.

De Fontenai was much affected with
this interesting narration, and did not ascribe
the least blame to her sister, which
was very pleasing to Rose, as it gave a
prospect of his intentions being honourable.
If his attachment was firm and sincere,
it would not be weakened by the recollection
of her thoughtless imprudence,
which had enabled the artful Mrs. Pryce and H2r 147
and designing Guilford to effect her ruin.
The favourable expectations of Rose were
increased when De Fontenai assured her
that he had the highest esteem, admiration,
and pity, for Miss Jane, that her narrative
had increased.

“I flatter myself,” he exclaimed, when
they separated, “that I shall, at some happy
period, have it in my power to call you
by the affectionate name of sister, as I
have lately hoped that my attentions were
not displeasing. May I therefore solicit
an interview with Miss Jane, as soon as
her health will allow her to receive me?”

Rose replied, that he might depend on
every exertion on her part to persuade her
sister to give him an early meeting; and
when the count left her, her spirits were
quite elevated. His last speech clearly
insinuated, that his love was such as would
reflect honour on the object of his regard.
This hope quite soothed the mind of Rose,
whose highest ambition was to see Jane
well and happily married. In this respectableH2 spectable H2v 148
station, she knew that she would
be protected from the insults of Mrs.
Pryce
, whose malignant perseverance in
grossly affronting her was uncommon (notwithstanding
malevolence is too predominant),
as Jane never molested or offended
her, though she had proved the cause of
her destruction.

Jane was quite recovered the next day,
and when the count waited on Miss Douglas,
he had the satisfaction of seeing the
sisters together. Rose had imparted to
her sister the conversation that passed between
her and De Fontenai, and in a few
minutes left Jane alone with him. Felix
was out, and did not return till late at
night, being wholly engaged with his military
affairs.

The count remained two hours with
Jane, uninterrupted by Rose, who was delighted
at perceiving her sister in high
spirits, as it convinced her their conversation
had been satisfactory; and she warmly
participated in the felicity that had long been H3r 149
been a stranger to the bosom of Jane
Douglas
. It was indeed very proper that
poor Rose should enjoy a gleam of happiness,
as the exquisite feelings of her mind
were doomed to be continually lacerated.

The moment now arrived when she was
to part with a brother, the best and most
affectionate of human beings. In every
situation of life in which he was engaged,
he had conducted himself with integrity,
courage, and propriety, and his family
were honoured by the superiority of his
character. His affection and friendship
was a sweet and soothing balm to Rose,
and supported her resolution in the most
trying scenes. She could never endure
the thoughts of disgracing him by acting
unworthily. Had her inclination for virtue
been weak, her attachment to him
would have been an excitement to it, that
her sister’s conduct might be a credit to
him. His sensibility resembled hers, though
he sustained the wounds of misfortune
with manly energy. Rose, who knew the H3 acuteness H3v 150
acuteness of his feelings, always concealed
(when she conveniently could) every event
that would hurt them.

By Felix she sent an affectionate letter
to her parents, requesting to hear from
them, as it appeared a long time since her
mother had written, whom she congratulated
on her father’s recovery.

Jane liked her brother, who had an indulgence
for her failings, that few brothers
would have had; yet she did not feel
that enthusiastic regard that Rose felt for
every object of her ardent attachment.
Though much improved in her manners,
her disposition still remained selfish, and
she only poignantly felt for her own sufferings,
and any event connected with her
passions and happiness. Her child she
loved, and was interested in its welfare—
it was a part of herself; but to the infant of
any other person, however nearly related,
she would have been quite indifferent.
Her affection for her sister was governed
by the same motive; she was useful to her, H4r 151
her, and shielded her from many sorrows
that would have pressed more heavily had
she not shared them, and lightened her
cares by her advice and participation in
every thing that afflicted her. But had
Jane never erred, she would not have
known the value of her sisterly tenderness,
and despised it; nor would she have made
that allowance for the faults of Rose, if
she had been indiscreet, that her sister did
for her, but viewed her errors with severity.
Never, indeed, were two characters
more opposite; for the compassionate heart
of Rose was moved with pity for the afflictions
even of a stranger, and her tears
fell at the recital of their woes, as the soft
summer-shower that bathes the sweetbriar’s
scented leaves, and exhales its fragrance.

H4 CHAP- In this text, Chapter III is followed by Chapter V; given the length of Chapter III, it is likely that the heading for Chapter IV is missing.
H4v 152

Chapter V.

“If petty evils round you swarm, Let not their buz your temper warm, But brush them from your mind away, Like insects of a summer’s day. If spite and malice are your foes, If fell revenge its arrows throws, Look calmly on, nor fear the dart; Virtue will guard the honest heart.” Tour of Dr. Syntax.

De Fontenai came to South Audley-street
about half-an-hour after Felix had quitted
his sisters. Jane received him, for Rose
remained in her apartment, unhappy and
melancholy at parting from her brother.
Her separation from him revived the recollection
of the anguish she had suffered,
when her loved sir Eglamour was torn
from her. The affection and friendship
Felix cherished for her lover endeared
him still more to her affectionate heart.

Rose H5r 153

Rose continued alone the greater part
of the day, and when her sister and herself
met in the evening, had the satisfaction
of hearing that the count had been
with her several hours. The pleasure he
apparently took in the society of Jane
convinced her that the fancy he had taken
to her sister was now grown into a real
and lasting passion, frequent intercourse
having heightened his regard.

Jane informed her that his expressions
of attachment seemed as sincere as they
were ardent; and Rose, smiling, told her
that she expected soon to address her as
the countess de Fontenai, and that she
thought it a very pretty sounding title.

As Rose was speaking, Kamira entered
with a note from lady Beaufort. It was
worded with those affectionate sentiments
that had first gained her the affection of
Rose, and though she now doubted her sincerity,
she could not resist being pleased.
Her ladyship requested she would add to
her happiness by passing the following H5 day H5v 154
day with her, as lord Beaufort was gone
out of town, and the satisfaction of enjoying
each other’s society and conversation
would not be interrupted by a third person.

Rose hesitated whether she should accept
her invitation or not, after her cruel
neglect; but regard conquered resentment,
and this overture from lady Beaufort appeared
as if she repented her unkindness,
and wished to atone for it.

Jane endeavoured to persuade her to decline
going, after the meanness Mary had
displayed, but Rose would not listen to
her, though she added, that she only sent
for her because she had no one equally
agreeable to pass away a dull day with,
and merely wished to make ill-natured remarks
upon her.

“Lady Beaufort has apologized for her
behaviour, by inviting and writing me a
kind note; therefore I cannot be so unyielding
to her I still love. Few characters
are without a blemish, and I hope she
will be as indulgent to my errors as I am to H6r 155
to hers.”
Rose said this as she left Jane,
to visit Mary, who had entreated her to
come early.

Lady Beaufort met her with a smiling
look, as if the sight of Rose had enlivened
her spirits.

Rose enjoyed a happy day, as lady
Beaufort
could, when she pleased, become
the most fascinating agreeable companion.
She was perfect mistress of those little
agremens that engage the heart much
more than attentions of greater importance.
Whenever Rose had dined with her, Mary
always ordered, as she did now, whatever
she had observed Rose preferred, or
had heard her mention that she liked.
The sweetness and kindness of her manners
were so captivating, and her professions
of future service apparently really
sincere, that Rose, with weak credulity, believed
her, and every unfavourable impression
vanished.

She recollected Mary’s refusal when she
asked the favour of the loan of fifteen H6 pounds, H6v 156
pounds, which Rose now attributed to the
enormous expence she had incurred for
jewels and wedding-clothes. It was not
exactly the conduct she would have adopted
on such an occasion, but she remembered,
in extenuation of Mary, the she had
acted as the generality of mankind would
have done, who do not like to make sacrifices
even for their dearest friend. Lady
Elinor
would have pursued a very different
line of conduct, but few who resembled
her in sweetness and superior excellence
existed. Mary was dear to her, but she
could not esteem her as she did her fair preserver,
lady Elinor, whom she admired, respected,
and idolized.

On returning home, as it was late, she
was informed by Kamira that Jane had retired
to rest, being a little indisposed—that
Eustace had left his card, and De Fontenai
made (as usual) a very long visit.

Pleased with the occurrences and news
of the day, Rose sought their apartment,
where she found her sister fast asleep, and was H7r 157
was careful not to disturb her. She had
learnt from lady Beaufort, whose lord had
several relations in the army, that the troops
were soon to return from Holland, and that
sir Eglamour Delavalle had escaped the
dangers of the last battle. This soothing
intelligence inspired the consoling idea that
all their affairs would wear a favourable aspect;
and with these agreeable thoughts occupying
her mind, sleep quickly sealed her
eyelids, and her slumbers were calm and refreshing.

At the usual hour Rose Douglas awoke,
revived and cheerful, as the restoration of
Mary, in some degree, to her good opinion,
animated her mind. She was naturally so
gentle and affectionate, that it was painful
for her to think harshly of any one she had
valued.

Jane had left the room, but that was customary
since her separation from Guilford,
that had prevented her sleeping so much
as formerly, as she was frequently restless,
from disagreeable thoughts and cruel reflectionsflections H7v 158
that obtruded, and banished her
morning repose.

Rose wished she had risen less early, as
she was impatient to impart lady Beaufort’s
kindness and winning attention. She dressed
hastily, and on going to arrange her glossy
ringlets before the looking-glass, perceived
a letter on the dressing-table, directed
to her. The address was in a handwriting
she did not know, and she smiled
at the idea of having slept so soundly that
she did not hear Kamira enter, and place it
there, as it was not on the toilet at night,
when she undressed.

But when Rose opened this unwelcome
letter, consternation and misery inexpressible
saddened her mind, where cheerfulness
and serenity were inmates till she perused
its depressing contents. Alas! it was from
the weak, giddy, and inconsiderate Jane,
who had already caused her the most bitter
sorrow.

After a very affectionate beginning, she
informed Rose she had withdrawn from their H8r 159
their residence, to place herself under the
protection of the count de Fontenai, who
had liberally made a very handsome settlement
on her. Jane observed that she
was tempted to accept this offer, as she
beheld no other prospect but that of meagre
poverty staring them in the face, and
expected, if the lawsuit terminated unfavourably,
which they had every reason to
fear, that they would all be totally ruined.
To be poor she could not support, and
listened, in consequence, to the count’s arguments
in favour of the step she had
taken, which she would not weary her
now by repeating. His persuasions were
enforced by his suggesting that she could
never hope to be married after the indiscretion
she had committed; it would, he
said, prevent a man of delicacy from thinking
of her in an honourable light. She
considered it, therefore, as the wisest plan
to follow his advice, being likewise influenced
by his promise of allowing her child
to be with her—a felicity she could not otherwise H8v 160
otherwise hope to taste while she remained
unmarried. Jane added, that she reflected,
even if she did, her husband would
probably dislike the sight of Caroline, if
he knew it was the offspring of another
lover, and would constantly remind him
of her former imprudence. An additional
inducement for placing herself under
the same roof with the count de Fontenai,
was his solemn promise never to
forsake her; and if she proved faithful,
and her conduct was such as he wished,
he would then marry her. Jane concluded
her letter with requesting Rose to
visit her privately, as she was anxious
to see her, and would never forget her
sisterly kindness, which she remembered
with affection, and desired her acceptance
of a ten-pound note which she enclosed.

Before Rose finished perusing this letter,
she was overcome with a sensation
that almost choked her. Her sister that
she tenderly loved, and for whom she had
suffered so much, was now lost and abandoned,doned, H9r 161
she feared for ever. It wounded
her to the soul that Jane should imagine
for a moment that she would receive the
money she had by guilt and indiscretion
obtained. The temptation was strong, as
Rose was then distressed for money, having
been at great expence on account of
her dear Felix, from whom she concealed
the reduced state of their finances, as she
hoped and expected to receive a remittance
from her father: yet she remained
firm in her resolution of restoring the ten
pounds to her sister.

Rose now touched the bell for Kamira,
and when the faithful creature entered,
threw her arms around her neck, and, almost
in a state of distraction, wept aloud
on her bosom. Though the Indian was
ignorant why her tears flowed, she mingled
hers with the drops of sensibility that
bathed the pallid face of her beloved Miss
Rose
.

When the heart-rending emotion that
agitated Miss Douglas had a little subsided,sided, H9v 162
she confided to Kamira the anguish
that Jane had planted in her bosom.—
“Now,” she exclaimed, “all hope of reclaiming
her is destroyed! To relapse a second
time from virtue banishes every idea and
expectation of repentance and reformation.”

Kamira was deeply affected with poignant
grief at this recital. Morality and
religion had been forcibly and impressively
inculcated on her flexible mind by Mrs.
Douglas
, which was strengthened by observing
the amiable and excellent conduct
of the gentle Rose. The Indian was likewise
naturally well inclined and good,
and one of the most virtuous characters
that ever breathed. Her virtue had frequently
been attacked by vicious characters,
but Kamira always continued steadily
chaste and correct. Losquillo, her loved
husband, was the only man for whom she
had felt attachment, and, torn from him
by the treachery of the perfidious Robecka,
to his memory her constant heart remained H10r 163
remained ever faithful. Though many
years had revolved since the young ladies
discovered her in the wood, she looked
nearly as young as she then appeared.
Her brown complexion did not fade and
lose its lustre, as a fairer skin frequently
does; and her dark, expressive, open countenance,
was universally admired.

Had Rose nourished the least expectation
of her sister’s return to rectitude, she
would have been less miserable; but that
fond hope it was impossible to cherish,
since she had coldly and deliberately resigned
herself to the count, whose treachery
in persuading her to act thus, after
insinuating his designs were honourable,
inspired her with resentment and detestation.
The feeble and improbable prospect
he had held out to her of marriage at a future
period, after the sufferings she had
endured from the duplicity of Guilford,
made her fear she was indeed incorrigible.
For her elopement with the colonel a
reasonable excuse might be made, as she was H10v 164
was cruelly deceived by a fictitious marriage,
and a first error should always be
pardoned; contrition and improvement
may then be hoped: but when that fault
is repeated, attended with circumstances
still more unpardonable, it is seldom that
the erring mind reforms.

“Deluded, ill-advised Jane!” said Rose
in a mournful voice, “I am now again
deprived of your society that I valued—
that cheered me lately when calamity oppressed.
Cruel girl! to deceive me, and
injure yourself, when you well knew I
only encouraged De Fontenai because I
thought it was for your advantage! I
firmly believed his designs were honourable,
and could not have imagined, after the misery
you had experienced, that you would
have listened to dishonourable proposals,
or that he would have dared to even hint
at any.”

“Me know you wish good your sister,
and she marry count you think she rich,
she happy; but me beg you no make you own H11r 165
own self ill, by fret for Miss Jane; she
wild, she fly away like the birds, first here,
then there; she always do something
make you cry; and take colour from your
face. You no more can save her. You
great deal to think of for your own good.
Me wish you wipe your tears off—cry no
more. Oh! me pray to the great good
God, that your dear lover come from over
the seas; he marry, he comfort you, and
you no cry for Miss Jane; she no love
you, she no care; she love you she not go
away, leave you break your poor heart.
Oh, she none care only for she self. Me
love her, me sorry her go, but me no wish
see you let tears fall, for her no think of
you. Me beg you come eat breakfast;
you sick else. What general, what madame
say, what good daughter sick in
bed?—good Miss Rose gone!”

Rose heaved a deep sigh.—“I wish to
write my sister first, and enclose the note
she sent.”

“No, no,” said Kamira, whose anxiety for H11v 166
for her health made her angry; “me scold
you you no eat breakfast, or try to eat a little;
first you eat something, then write;
Kamira take letter for you after.”

Such tender affection, such anxious care,
were irresistible; and leaning on her faithful
Indian’s arm, Rose went to the drawing-room,
where breakfast had been already
prepared for her and Jane. Rose drank
some tea, but the bread and butter remained
untouched, though she endeavoured
to swallow a few mouthfuls, that
Kamira might not be grieved. The Indian
endeavoured to tempt her appetite
by every method her affectionate heart
could devise, but in vain, and was quite
melancholy at her want of success.

Kamira observed that Miss Jane must
have stolen softly out at the street-door,
before any one was up in the house, very
early, as her departure was unperceived by
any person. All her clothes, except those
she wore, were left behind, as she mentioned
in the postscript of her letter that they H12r 167
they were useless to her, De Fontenai
having purchased numerous articles of
dress in the newest and most elegant style;
and to his love she was likewise indebted
for very superb jewels.

The Indian removed the tea-equipage,
and left Miss Douglas to compose her letter.
The paper was blotted with her tears
in many places, and she commenced her
writing by saying, that since Jane had
assured her she was fixed in her resolution
never to return home, and was quite
determined, it was in vain to persuade her;
yet she regretted that the dread of pecuniary
difficulties influenced her to embrace
a dishonourable life, more particularly
as she had ever shewn her an example
of fortitude. Rose entreated her to
recollect that she always dreaded a life of
vice, and had heard her frequently assert
that she would endure mortification, insolence,
and distress, rather than act wrong.
She had hitherto, in every sorrow, confided
in the goodness of Providence, that never forsakes H12v 168
forsakes those who trust firmly in its divine
superintendence. Miss Douglas added,
that it was with pain and reluctance
she was obliged to mention that, since she
had chosen to live in a manner so opposite
to her principles, she must decline, much
as she loved her, and ever should, any communication,
unless she was deserted by the
perfidious count. In that case, which she
was apprehensive might occur, she should
ever find her affectionate and friendly,
though it was her duty to shun her while she
lived in splendid guilt. Rose thanked her
for her feeling and kindness in sending the
ten-pound note, but begged to return it,
as she could not, however embarrassed,
accept a gift that would appear as if she
wished to profit by her indiscretion.

When Rose had sealed this letter, she
directed it, with a trembling hand, to madame
de Fontenai
, by which name Jane
had told her she was now distinguished.
Kamira was sent with it to Somerset-street,
Portman-square, Jane having informed her I1r 169
her that the count had taken a furnished
house there for her as his wife.
Rose told her not to wait for an answer,
but merely give it in; and the Indian and
herself both agreed to tell whoever inquired
after her sister, that she was absent
on a visit, and if Mrs. Linn asked where
she was, to repeat the same story, as she
had not perceived her departure. As Somerset-street
was not far from her residence,
Kamira soon returned, looking very
dull, and said, in a melancholy tone—“It
be a fine grand house where Miss Jane
live; fat footman, with great paunch, open
door. When me look at she’s house,
me ready to cry. Me think, me young
lady like you sister, me choose live in Esquimaux
hut, sleep in woods, than me be
wicked in fine house, and have fine dress.”

Rose sighed.

“You must no sigh; you kill yourself
if fret. Me see that when you cry you
very ill; you heart no made for sorrow—
you heart made for joy, though you know Vol. III. I grief I1v 170
grief only. Cheer you breast, for if you
die, you poor Kamira die too; she no
live, her dear Miss Rose gone.”

Rose blushed at her want of firmness,
when she recollected the afflictions of the
amiable Esquimaux—torn from her country,
her husband, relations, and wounded
by a sanguinary rival. In so many painful
scenes and trials, her fidelity was unshaken;
and Rose suppressed the painful
emotions that agitated her, to avoid giving
uneasiness to the attached Indian.

Eustace came, as he usually did almost
every day, and perceiving Rose looked
more pallid than she was in general, advised
her to take a walk in the Park, as London
had robbed her cheek of its rural bloom.
He inquired after Miss Jane Douglas, and
learnt she had quitted home on a visit.

Kamira, who was present when he asked
Rose to walk, exclaimed—“You go,
Miss Rose; put on you veil—nobody see
you look ill then. Walk good for you—
do you great good.”

Eustace I2r 171

Eustace laughed at the Indian’s speech;
he was accustomed to hear her give advice;
and was acquainted with her history
from Miss Douglas, who had described
the ardour of her attachment to the
whole family, though Rose was dearest to
her faithful bosom.

As Eustace and Rose proceeded to
Hyde-park, he unexpectedly introduced
the subject of his affection for her, which
she endeavoured to evade. But fruitless
were her attempts to divert his attention
from this kind of conversation; and most
disagreeably was she surprised at his presuming
to hint that he wished her to be
his, on terms that she disdained from a
man of the highest rank, and particularly
from him. He mentioned that he could
not afford to marry, being unable to support
a wife in the style he must, if married,
from his superior and respectable
connexions.

Rose would not interrupt him, purposely
to hear how far his corrupt dispositionI2 tion I2v 172
would lead him to unveil his moral
depravity, so contrary to virtuous principles.

“Besides,” continued Eustace, (who,
from her silence, though she approved
what he had advanced), “I could not afford
to let you dress so handsomely as
you do now, like a lady of fortune and
fashion; it would make me wretched to
see you, as my wife, less elegantly attired.
But this promise I will solemnly make
you, if you comply with my proposals,
which is, that I will never marry another,
and when I feel myself at the point
of death, will then give you my hand,
that, as my wife, you may take possession
of my property.”

Rose felt quite indignant, and the utmost
contempt for his wickedness and presumption,
in supposing he could persuade
her to be indiscreet. This pernicious disclosure
of his vicious designs did not indeed
wound her feelings as Courtenay’s
proposals had done, because he was indifferentferent I3r 173
to her, and her heart wholly engaged
to another. She had been pleased with
the gratitude he pretended to feel, and
condescended, on that account, to consider
him as a friend; but his worthless behaviour,
in daring to insult her with this
gross declaration, forfeited completely all
claim to her esteem, as she was convinced
he had hoped to succeed from having been
informed by her of the cloud that obscured
the prosperity of her family at present.
It was probable, she imagined, that he had
also heard of her pecuniary difficulties and
severe misfortunes, and, like an artful lawyer,
wished to take advantage of her distress.
To mortify him, therefore, she resolved
to conceal her engagement with the
noble and excellent sir Eglamour, as his
vanity might attribute her refusal to being
engaged, and conclude she would have
weakly yielded to his persuasions, had she
not been contracted to Delavalle. Her
heart, her every thought, was truly devoted
to her brave lover, who would have flown to I3 her I3v 174
her in the dark hour of adversity, and consoled
her with his pure, his ardent affection.

As Rose reflected on what Eustace had
been saying, she could scarcely check herself
from exclaiming—“What a world is
this, when such characters as yours, who
ought to be grateful to me, endeavour,
under the mask of friendship and regard,
to effect my destruction!”

While these thoughts passed in her
mind, Eustace interpreted her silence as a
propitious omen, and anxiously awaited
her answer. He was, consequently, surprised
and chagrined, when Rose calmly
reprobated his infamous offer, tending evidently
to ruin her peace of mind. No
worldly consideration, she said, could
tempt her to act incorrectly; and she
hoped, for his own sake, that he would,
on reflection, be deeply concerned at having
severely insulted a gentleman’s daughter
by a proposition so truly disgraceful to
himself. “I fear,” continued Rose, “that
you must have had very low associates, and I4r 175
and what is worse, extremely vicious companions,
to have imbibed principles unworthy
any one who has been well educated,
and accustomed to good society.”

“If you had but a small fortune,” replied
Eustace, whose mortification was inexpressible,
“I would, with delight, risk
marrying you; but with my narrow income
it is impossible for me to support a
wife. Oh, if you had but a fortune!”

“Then you do not think me a fortune
of myself?”
replied Rose, laughing: “very
ungallant truly! The wisest plan, therefore,
for you, is to quite give me up, which
will be no difficult task, if I judge right;
for, be assured, if you were a king, I would
reject your dishonourable proposals with
the contempt I now do your present offer.”

Eustace was inwardly almost enraged to
distraction (though he stifled it) at the cheerful
indifference she displayed, as it proved
her contemptible opinion of him. He
became sullen and out of humour, which
diverted Rose, and banished the recollection
of her sorrows. He told her how I4 ill I4v 176
ill and ugly she looked, and was at last
so exceedingly impertinent, that she was
obliged to say, that although she had
wished to consider him as a friend, it was
beneath her to endure a deficiency of politeness,
and rudeness she did not deserve.
Yet, in remembrance of their long acquaintance,
and his professions of friendship and
service, she would excuse his ill-humour,
if he promised in future to conduct himself
like a gentleman; otherwise she must decline
his visits.

To these observations he answered not,
but presented an excellent picture of spleen
and sullenness, and coldly wishing her
good-morning at her own door, he walked
hastily off, secretly provoked at the spirit
she had displayed, and that he had exposed
himself without meeting any success.

In the drawing-room was her worthy
old Fairfield friend, Jerry Wizzle, waiting
for her return. He had arrived in town
from Devonshire on business for his father
three days before; and Rose felt truly glad to I5r 177
to see him. She was greatly amused by
his relating to her all the country news.

After detailing every thing interesting,
he suddenly asked her if she had seen Mr.
Eustace
?

“I have this instant parted from him at
the street-door,”
replied Rose, “having
been escorted by him to the Park and back
again.”

“It is a pity you are already engaged,”
said Mr. Jerry, with a smile, “though
certainly your choice is very superior.”

“For what reason do you say you regret
that I am engaged?”

“Because another wealthy offer would
be at your ladyship’s command. Assuredly
you have heard that Mr. Eustace is
come into possession, since his return to
England, of a very handsome fortune?”

The astonishment of Rose for some minutes
was indescribable. She was silent a
short time, and then exclaimed—“I am
doomed almost daily, Mr. Jerry, to receive
some fresh instance of the deceit and falsehoodI5 hood I5v 178
of mankind. The first intelligence
I gained from Eustace on his arrival, quite
unasked, was the death of his relation,
who had not left him a single shilling. He
alleged his poverty as an excuse for not
offering me his hand, being disappointed
in his relative’s having neglected to bequeath
him a legacy. How mean is deception!
and how contemptible and useless
it is to speak untruths, when they are
always discovered at last by some accident
or other!”

“His character,” observed Jerry Wizzle,
“has not been improved by adversity,
which I have learnt lately he has severely
experienced, and that he sought and obtained
refuge at Treharne, where your father’s
roof sheltered him, and he found a
home and consolation in your kindness that
he could not meet with anywhere else. If
this is true, he is a consummate ungrateful
villain, for in my opinion, ingratitude deserves
death: it is the blackest of all crimes.”

It is but too true, rejoined Rose, that he flawed-reproduction2 pages I7r 181
“not been disturbed before the flames reached
to the wing of the building where you
slept. The poor people in your neighbourhood
feelingly lament the accident
that has deprived them of the benevolent
inhabitants of Treharne, and anxiously
wish for the return of the whole family,
universally respected and loved by its indigent
neighbours.”

Mr. Jerry concluded with requesting he
might have the pleasure of attending her
next morning to a fashionable exhibition.
He seemed to attach great value to her
granting this favour; and she could not
refuse to confer this trifling happiness on
her worthy old friend.

After returning from the exhibition the
following morning with Jerry, she found
an unexpected letter from colonel Guilford
lying on the table. Mr. Jerry said he
would leave her now to peruse her letter,
and went away much pleased with having
publicly attended his lovely favourite, where I7v 182
where he perceived with exultation how
much she was admired.

When he was gone, Rose found, on
reading colonel Guilford’s letter, that her
sister had written to him, desiring he
would consign her dear Caroline to the
care of a trusty person she intended to
send for the child. The colonel added, that
since Jane had not explained for what reason
she wished the infant to be sent, he
should not give up his daughter (whom
he tenderly loved) till he had heard from
Miss Douglas likewise. Though Jane
was fondly endeared to him, he continued,
yet he doubted her prudence and judgment,
which did not equal her sister’s;
and being desired to direct his answer to
another street made him very suspicious.
He was apprehensive, from these observations,
that all was not right, which made
him uneasy, as he was solicitous that
Jane’s conduct should be correct; and his
first wish was to have it in his power to repair I8r 183
repair the injury he had committed from
excess of fondness. The colonel ended
with saying, that if he did not shortly receive
a satisfactory letter from Rose, he
should come up to town, and seek an explanation.

To this letter it was a most difficult and
painful task to return an answer. Rose
must either expose her sister, or tell such
falsehoods to excuse her as would be easily
detected, and make her word doubted in
future, which was inconsistent with her
character, that disdained a violation of
truth. She resolved, therefore, to wait
some days before she answered it, and consult
Mrs. Fane, whose advice she highly
respected. This lady was the only person
of their acquaintance to whom Jane’s former
imprudence was confided, and to her
she could write on the subject of the misfortune
that had since occurred; it would
not be an additional exposure, as if detailed
to any other person less interested.
The idea of giving pain to her mother (alreadyready I8v 184
too deeply afflicted), was insupportable,
and Rose determined to conceal the
cruel event till the last moment it could be
kept secret, which was quite soon enough
to divulge an afflictive disclosure. Good
news she was ever eager to communicate,
but disagreeable intelligence she was unwilling
to reveal before it was absolutely
necessary. After much reflection, she intended
in a day or two to write Mrs.
Fane
, and ask her opinion how she should
act for the best.

After Rose had formed this resolution,
her uneasiness was, in a trifling degree, removed;
and at this moment, when her
mind was more calm and resigned, a loud
thundering at the door announced a visitor
of importance. Rose looked from the
window, and beheld with satisfaction lady
Elinor’s
carriage. The sight of her was a
healing balm, and her conversation, replete
with sense and sweetness, was a real
consolation, and banished the recollection
of sorrow.

Lady I9r 185

Lady Elinor expressed her approbation
of Felix. It was harmony indeed to Rose
to listen to the praises of the brother she
fondly loved, for the commendation of
those she valued was a sound most pleasing
to her affectionate heart. Lady Elinor’s
approbation of Felix suggested the
thought, that probably she secretly admired
him; and it would have been her
highest ambition to see him united to
so charming and excellent a character.
But her brother’s want of fortune, even if
they liked each other, would, she feared,
be an insuperable obstacle to their union.

While these ideas pervaded her breast,
lady Elinor appeared very thoughtful, and
then asked after Miss Jane.

Rose felt a tremor agitate her frame at
this question, and replied that her sister
had left home on a visit, while the involuntary
blush that suffused her cheek at
uttering the shadow of an untruth, did
not escape lady Elinor’s penetration, who
looked very serious—“Do not think it is curiosity I9v 186
curiosity or impertinence that made me
ask that question, but a motive very superior.
I wish to speak to you on a subject
that I am yet afraid to enter on, fearful
of wounding your feelings; but in justice
to you and myself, I must conquer
this reluctance.”

“I entreat you not to be apprehensive
of repeating whatever you judge proper,”

replied Rose. “My sufferings have lately
been so severe, that I can support with fortitude
and resignation the intelligence you
have to impart. I have myself no disguise,
or any thing mysterious to conceal.”

“Since you are thus candid,” rejoined
lady Elinor, “you justify the favourable
impression and good opinion I have always
entertained of you; and I will no longer
hesitate to mention that I was at the play
last night, with my worthy old relative,
Mr. Murray, and a small party. In the
next box was your sister, magnificently
dressed, and sparkling with valuable jewels.
Two women, whose appearance very evidentlydently I10r 187
denoted they were loose suspicious
characters, were talking familiarly with
her; and two gentlemen were particularly
assiduous and attentive, while she was apparently
flirting with them in high spirits.
Your sister looked more dazzlingly lovely
than I had ever seen her; she was certainly
rouged, having a much higher colour
than she usually has, being in general
pale; for I used to call you ‘the blush,’
and Miss Jane the ‘white rose,’ from the
opposite tints of your complexions. When
her eye met mine and Mr. Murray’s, I
could see her countenance change, which
the artificial colour did not hide, and she
averted looks from our box ever afterwards.

Mr. Murray immediately discovered
the characters of the whole party she was
with. The gentlemen were dissipated men
of distinction, publicly known, and her
female companions celebrated courtezans
of great notoriety, who had their own carriages,
and lived in the most dashing style. ‘Miss I10v 188
‘Miss Jane Douglas,’ observed Mr. Murray,
‘is perhaps deceived by these women,
and is unacquainted with their infamy. If
so, she is to be pitied for being inveigled,
by artifice and inexperience, to associate
with them. But let the cause be what it
will that places her in this description of
company, it is due to your dignity and reputation
to learn the truth; and I recommend
to you to go early to-morrow morning,
and inquire, in an undisguised manner,
into this affair. Of Miss Douglas I
have a very high opinion, and her sister
may have erred innocently in being seen
in such improper society; but if wilfully,
it is right that Miss Jane should be admonished
of the impropriety of associating
with companions of that vicious class, as it
will endanger her sister’s reputation as well
as her own, and oblige you to drop their
acquaintance.’

Very reluctantly, I assure you,” continued
lady Elinor, “did I conform to this
advice; and it pained me to observe the emotion I11r 189
emotion you betrayed, as it seems to imply
something wrong in Miss Jane’s conduct.
Delicacy prevented Mr. Murray
from accompanying me here, but he will
call this evening at our house to know the
result of this unpleasant investigation.”

Rose was unutterably affected. The
perturbation that convulsed her bosom prevented
her from replying for some minutes;
and when at length she essayed to
speak, a burst of tears denied her utterance.

At witnessing this unaffected expression
of sorrow, drops of sympathy and compassion
trickled down lady Elinor’s cheeks;
and it was impossible for her to attempt at
consoling the unhappy Rose then, as she
knew not the nature of her grief, though
she suspected it.

Miss Douglas threw herself at lady Elinor’s
feet, and grasping her hands exclaimed,
in a voice faltering with emotion—
“Forsake me not, my friend! my preserver!
that I love and esteem—whose humanity
rescued me from ruin and distress! If my I11v 190
my unfortunate sister is guilty, I am innocent;
and the agonies I suffer to think of
the degrading situation in which she has
plunged herself, I fear I cannot survive.”

Lady Elinor raised her up with unequalled
kindness, and entreated her to reflect
that the indiscreet behaviour of Jane
did not attach any blame to her, though
it was undoubtedly a deep affliction that
she should, by her levity and imprudence,
have heightened the calamities of a family
so truly amiable, and now bowed down
with disappointment and anxiety.—“We
will hope to reclaim her yet,”
said the gentle
lady Elinor; “Mr. Murray shall wait on
her, and represent how unhappy you are,
and his persuasions may cause a reformation.
At all events, be comforted, my
sweet friend! I will solicit my father to let
you reside with me, while we are in town.
I have no doubt of obtaining his permission,
and shall be delighted to have you
with me. But if you do not recover your
composure, and dry up your tears, I shall be I12r 191
be quite hurt, as the only favour I ask
in return for my friendship is, that you
will receive consolation.”

Soothing to the ill-fated and heart-
wounded Miss Douglas was the pity of
this excellent young lady; her smiles and
sweetness blunted the keen edge of her
misfortunes. Lady Elinor began conversing
on other subjects, to divert her attention
from one most distressing. She mentioned
that she had many kind messages
and the affectionate remembrance to deliver
to her from poor Louise de Rimont, who
was in a very indifferent state of health.
Louise regretted exceedingly not having
seen Rose, who had not called for a long
time at lady Morrington’s, as her freezing
coldness led her to imagine her visits were
not acceptable; had her ladyship indeed
wished to see her, she would have declined
going, after her mean deceit. Lady Morrington
had desired mademoiselle de Rimont
never to call in South Audley-street:
but this prohibition was useless at present, as I12v 192
as her health would not allow her to quit
the house.

Rose feelingly lamented the lengthened
illness of Louise, and observed, that had she
known she continued so ill, she would have
encountered, to see her, the proud looks
and sarcasms of her ladyship.

“I am very glad, however, that your
ignorance of the state of mademoiselle de
Rimont’s
health prevented your waiting
on her, as lady Morrington would have
been very insulting. Really I cannot endure
the idea of your subjecting yourself
to such insolence. Captain Courtenay is
constantly with her, who, I understand
from Louise, was once an unworthy lover
of yours; and you would not have liked
to meet him there. The world slanders
her amazingly for her extreme intimacy
with this profligate man—unjustly, I hope,
for the sake of her daughters and my lord,
who is good-natured and unsuspicious
(though passionate), and always speaks in
handsome terms of you and your family.”

Lady K1r 193

Lady Elinor continued conversing with
Rose till her spirits and cheerfulness were
in some degree restored. Her ladyship
begged her to remember, as one source of
self-approbation, that she had been a good
sister, and exerted herself to reform Jane,
and disguise her errors from being published.
Since she had nobly performed
her duty, she desired her to recollect also
she had parents, who would be deprived of
the comfort of an amiable daughter’s affection,
if she undermined her constitution
with grieving constantly.

Lady Elinor now took leave, with a
promise of being with her on the morrow,
with Mr. Murray, and that she would
bring intelligence if she had succeeded in
her request to her father, the earl of Arlberry.
If successful, Kamira was to attend
her mistress, and reside at the earl’s
during the period Rose would be an inmate
at his residence. Miss Douglas had
warmly extolled the Indian’s remarkable Vol. III. K fidelity, K1v 194
fidelity, and interested lady Elinor in her
behalf.

When her incomparable friend left her,
Rose commenced writing to Mrs. Fane, to
whom she gave a minute relation of every
thing that had happened and concerned
her sister. Rose described the anxiety and
grief she felt on her account, and how
keenly she mourned the disgrace Jane had
incurred by this additional act of imprudence.
The anger of the general, from
whom this elopement could not be for
ever kept secret, and the anguish of her
mother, all forcibly occurred to her mind,
and made her shudder for the consequence.
The delicate sense Mrs. Douglas had of female
propriety and honour would be deeply
wounded at her daughter’s loss of virtue.
Felix, she observed, would not, she was
apprehensive, again pardon Jane, though
he had once overlooked her indiscretion
and folly.

When Rose had finished this letter, she sent K2r 195
sent it to the general post, and was quite
relieved with having unbosomed her grief
to her worthy friend. Resignation and
tranquillity, though clouded with sadness,
reigned in her mind, till the promised visit
from lady Elinor and the venerable Mr.
Murray
the following day.

Mr. Murray looked more benign than
she had ever seen him; he was come to
console a fair victim of affliction, and the
benevolence of his nature irradiated his
countenance. Rose admired his ruddy
clear skin, that had the freshness of the
cheek of youth; and his shining silver
locks, waving on his fine open forehead,
where time had strewed but a few wrinkles,
though so much advanced in years. Such
is the old age of the beneficent and good.

Lady Elinor’s loveliness was likewise
heightened by the soft and kind benignity
of her heart. Her ladyship had gained the
earl’s permission to receive Miss Douglas
under their roof; and she was rejoiced at
this opportunity of protecting and soothingK2 ing K2v 196
her with the tenderness of a real friend;
it would prevent Rose from brooding
alone over her calamities, as her sister’s departure
had left her without a companion,
and Kamira was the only person to whom
she could speak of her heartful woes.

“I am very glad, my fair friend,” said
Mr. Murray, “to see you calm and resigned.
Be not dejected; the sorrows of
those who innocently suffer are infinitely
less acute than the pangs caused by guilt.
I never listen to tales of malevolence and
slander, proceeding often from malice and
envy; but I witnessed, with lady Elinor,
the scene it hurt her feelings to describe.
Anxiety for your reputation, which I wish
to be as spotless as your mind, made me
desirous to develop the truth. Give me
your sister’s direction, and I will endeavour
to alleviate your grief respecting her,
by exciting, if possible, contrition; and
hope, by my friendly admonitions, to restore
a repentant sister to you.”

Rose expressed her gratitude, and Mr. Murray K3r 197
Murray
wrote Jane’a ddressJane’s address in his pocket-
book, promising to let her quickly know
the success of his visit to her. Miss
Douglas
now arranged with lady Elinor
the day on which she was to take up her
abode at the earl of Arlberry’s. It was
agreed, that in two days lady Elinor was
to come in the carriage, and convey back
to the earl’s Rose and the faithful Indian,
with the little property she possessed; and
this being settled, Mr. Murray and his
amiable relative left her again alone.

Rose reflected, when they were gone,
she had to pay Mrs. Linn for the lodging,
with the additional expence for another
week, as she had not given warning; and
on reclearing the contents of her purse,
found that she had not sufficient cash to discharge
the debt. To ask a boon of lady
Elinor
, after the benefit before conferred,
she thought would be indelicately intrusive;
and recollecting lady Beaufort’s late
professions of wishing to serve her, and her
recent good-nature, she determined to applyK3 ply K3v 198
directly to her ladyship; it would be
injurious to her friend to entertain the idea
of a refusal. Accordingly, she instantly
dispatched a note to her by the twopenny-
post, requesting her immediate assistance,
observing, that as lady Beaufort mentioned,
when they last met, that she was pleased
she considered her as one of her friends,
she had now used the privilege of friendship.

Miss Douglas was perfectly tranquil respecting
the event of this request, as it
would have been injuring lady Beaufort
to doubt her willingness to assist her, since
she had it in her power to grant this favour.
Early the next morning, to her extreme
surprise, at an hour so unusual, a loud
knock at the door made her expect to see
one of her acquaintance. The person, of
all others the most foreign to her thoughts,
soon after entered: it was lady Morrington,
whom she least thought to behold of
all beings in existence.

Her ladyship advanced to Rose with a formal K4r 199
formal haughty air, and thus addressed
her—“I am empowered, madam, by lady
Beaufort
, to inform you, that she can by
no means comply with your request, and
deputes me to tell you, that she desires you
will not send her any more begging letters.”

Rose could scarcely command her countenance
when lady Morrington spoke.
Her assumed starched appearance, which
she intended for impressive dignity, to awe
and terrify Rose, had so striking an effect
on her risible muscles, that she could not
suppress a smile when she replied—“I
pity poor lady Beaufort for her meanness
and duplicity. Tell her that a title cannot
ennoble a low mind, and only makes her
insincerity, malignity, and grossness, more
glaring. I suppose she thought her malevolence
would strike deeper by making
you her messenger, who, she has often
mentioned, was quite my enemy. Paltry,
mean creature! how much I compassionate
her little mind, and deplore, for her
own sake, her guilty deceit! This is K4 fashionable K4v 200
fashionable friendship; give me in future
unfashionable sincerity. Your ladyship
will confer a great favour by repeating
this exactly, and I am sorry for the trouble
you have had.”

Astonished at the spirit Rose displayed,
anger flashed from the large eyes of the
disappointed lady Morrington, who seemed
inclined to depart from the precise air
she had affected. However, on second
thoughts, she gulped down her mortification
of rage, and rose from her seat, which
she had taken while Miss Douglas was
speaking. Rose flew to the bell, and very
ceremoniously attended her ladyship to
the door of the drawing-room. Unable to
articulate from vexation, at the ease and
indifference with which she had received
her former friend’s vulgar insult, she slightly
bowed her head, and retired, eager to
acquaint lady Beaufort with the contempt
Rose had evinced at her insulting low attempt
to mortify her.

Lady Beaufort knew that Rose was much K5r 201
much attached to her, and had exquisite
feeling, and hoped that the shock caused
by her insulting message would have made
her very ill. It did not occur to her ladyship’s
narrow mind, that when a person
becomes contemptible by their degrading
conduct, they are too much despised for
their malignity to have any effect; such studied
malevolence recoils on the author of it.

To supply the money deficient to pay
Mrs. Linn’s bill, Rose sent her trusty Kamira
with a valuable diamond ring, and
several other trinkets, to a jeweller’s, to
borrow some cash on them. The Indian
soon returned with money sufficient
to relieve her pecuniary distress, which
made her exceedingly comfortable, by removing
her difficulties for the present.
Rose was consoled at being obliged to part
with these jewels, as they were gifts from
her parents, by the hope of shortly redeeming
them, and with reflecting that
she should very soon be at no expence,
either for herself or Kamira, by residing K5 with K5v 202
with lady Elinor. The trifling evils that
malice wished to inflict she smiled at and
contemned.

Chapter VI.

“Fair fleeting flower, so early snatch’d away! A day thy span—alas! a stormy day!” De Lille.

When Miss Douglas and lady Elinor had
the happiness of meeting, the former imparted
to her friend the gross insult she had
received from lady Beaufort.

“Despicable creature!” exclaimed lady
Elinor
; “she cannot bear prosperity.
Though rich before she married, her pride
was concealed, ‘like a smothered flame’, as
it was a terrible drawback to know herself
the natural child of an obscure woman.
Had she continued unmarried, or married
a man in a less elevated station of life, she would K6r 203
would have been more amiable and humble,
instead of suffering malice, the most horrible
of all passions, to inhabit her breast.”

“I never knew prosperity,” observed
Rose, “but have been informed it is more
difficult to support than adversity; however,
I should like the trial, and from what
I have seen of the world, I imagine it will
be a lesson of humility that I shall never
forget.”

“You have often heard me assert,” replied
lady Elinor, “that I never liked lady
Beaufort
. She is pretty, but has too much
of the expression of a cat in her face, which
denotes spite. I am a little of a physiognomist,
and perceive a great deal of ill-nature
in her countenance, which her satirical,
envious, and severe remarks, on every female
who is more captivating than herself,
confirm. I have been quite ashamed to
hear her vent her spleen. You have heard
my sentiments before, yet your partiality
blinded you. Do not be uneasy at your
conduct in prosperity: it will not elate and K6 make K6v 204
make you forget yourself, or have less commiseration
for the unfortunate. But let
us talk no more of this insensible malicious
lady Beaufort; it is indeed a dull subject,
for she is truly inanimate, and will converse
for hours about a new cap or dress, so vacant
is her empty mind. With your good
sense, I am surprised you could like any
thing so insipid, though I conclude your
good-nature gave her credit for all the fine
qualities she assumed.”

The day after Rose was domesticated
with lady Elinor, she received a note from
Mr. Murray, informing her he had been
unsuccessful in getting admittance to her
sister, as she was always said to be out, or
engaged: but he still flattered himself that
at some period or other he should obtain an
opportunity of remonstrating with her, and
succeed in persuading her to renounce the
count de Fontenai, unless he made atonement
by offering his hand to Miss Jane
Douglas
.

Before lady Elinor conveyed Rose to her residence, K7r 205
residence, she took an affectionate leave of
the good people, her landlord and landlady,
who were quite afflicted at her unexpected
departure. Rose promised to see them
again, and had the satisfaction of finding
herself most happily situated with lady
Elinor
.

The earl of Arlberry had superior manners,
but was one of those characters that
have no striking trait to distinguish them,
and was not gifted with much talent for
conversation. His passions were calmly regulated,
and neither joy or sorrow seemed
to make any impression on the equanimity
that governed them. If he was displeased,
he was too polite to express his resentment
warmly, and was one of those beings who
walk quietly through life, without pain, but
with very little pleasure. His daughter
was the object of his strongest attachment,
and to her he was indulgent.

Lord Arlberry had a place at court, which
chiefly engaged his time, and Rose was
happy at seeing his lordship rarely, as his frigid, K7v 206
frigid, though strictly polite manners, and
ceremonious address, were so opposite to
lady Elinor’s, who was equally correct in
politeness, without his chilling reserve.

Miss Douglas had been a week with her
friend—a week that would have passed in
genuine happiness, had it not been clouded
by the recollection of sir Eglamour’s absence
and distance from her, united with the painful
remembrance of her sister’s situation.

At this period a letter arrived from Mrs.
Fane
, entreating Rose to set off directly
for her residence, where she should find a
home for ever, if she approved it, and another
parent, as she tenderly loved her as
her own daughter. Mrs. Fane added, that
she could not endure the prospect of her
remaining alone in London, a place fraught
with dangers for young people, as she was
of opinion Jane might have escaped the
contagion of error, had she been elsewhere.
This considerate lady assured her that she
intended waiting on colonel Guilford, and
disclosing to him candidly the events that had K8r 207
had lately passed, to spare Rose the distressing
avowal; and concluded with observing,
that Caroline was grown a lovely child, and
resembled her aunt more than her mother.

Rose was musing on the contents of this
friendly letter, when a note was delivered
to her, with the address scarcely legible.
On opening it, she perceived some lines
scrawled apparently by a very inferior hand.
At the first perusal they were unintelligible
from incorrect spelling, but on closely
examining the writing, she deciphered,
with unutterable sensations of horror, that
Jane was dying, and that if she wished to
see her any more alive, she must hasten instantly
to Somerset-street.

To describe the agony of Rose is impossible;
yet she checked her anguish, as it
was indispensably requisite she should act,
and, perhaps, by prompt exertion might
save her. With a countenance that portrayed
her mental sufferings, she threw on
hastily a bonnet and shawl, and rushed into her K8v 208
her friend’s room. Without speaking, she
put the note into her hand.

Lady Elinor read it, and then gazed at
her face, which betrayed internal suppressed
woe surpassing description. Acutely
did she participate in the repeated sorrows
destined to invade her tranquillity.—“I
see your fortitude,”
she exclaimed, “and
admire it. Persevere! We will have a
hackney-coach, and I will go with you to
the door of that hateful house.”

Rose pressed her hand with gratitude,
but could not speak.

The coach was procured, and, overcome
with dejection and dread, Rose got into the
vehicle, followed by her true friend. They
both preserved a mournful silence till it
stopped at the detestable house where Jane
had fatally taken up her abode. Rose
breathed with difficulty—a faintness came
over her, and, in a voice scarcely audible,
she requested lady Elinor, on her return
home, to send Kamira to her.

A footman K9r 209

A footman now opened the door, whose
countenance bore witness that some dreadful
scene had been acted here. Faltering
as she spoke, Rose asked for madame de
Fontenai
.

“Will you be so good as to walk this
way,”
replied the man, and ascending the
stairs, conducted Miss Douglas to a drawing-room.
A medical gentleman and a female
attendant stood near a large couch,
where was extended the nearly-expiring
form of Jane. The white robe that enveloped
her slender figure was spotted in
several places with blood, that flowed from
a mortal wound that had pierced her side.

Rose advanced to the couch where her
unhappy sister reclined, with approaching
death imprinted on every line of her once
animated face. A faint smile lightly gleamed
over it at the sight of Rose.—“Dear
sister!”
she articulated, with difficulty, “by
coming—to me—you smooth—my last
moments. I wished—to tell you—as a
consolation—to your pure soul—that yesterdayterday— K9v 210
—I was married—to the count—by
a Catholic priest. I was wretched—at not
being—his wife. His love was not weakened;
to make me happy—he consented
—we were united—and he lamented—that
distrust—in which he was—educated—
that made him unjust—till then. He
doubted my affection—and feared I might
—abandon him—and caused—his reluctance
—to marry me. Fatal suspicion! it
has ruined me―”

Jane’s breath grew now so short, that she
was obliged to rest some minutes before she
could proceed; yet she seemed very anxious
to continue speaking. The doctor administered
a cordial to her, and she revived
sufficiently to again address Rose.

“By this early death—my faults will, I
hope, be expiated―My father—my mother
—and Felix—remember me to!—Forgive
—all—all—I have made you suffer—
Bless—my—child―be—its—mother—
better—than I should—have—been―”

Here the unfortunate Jane’s respiration became K10r 211
became more difficult than ever, and Rose
raised up her hand to relieve her. She took
her cold clammy hand in hers, which Jane
feebly pressed, and breathed her last sigh
in the arms of her affectionate sister, her
dying glance resting on her countenance,
nearly as white as her own, shaded with the
pale livery of death.

Jane had expired without a groan, and
looked so serene and pleasing, that Rose
did not imagine that the last closing scene
of life was over. When fatally convinced
that her spirit had fled from its earthly tenement,
and that the fortitude she had assumed
could no longer benefit her beloved
sister, insensible, alas! to kindness or cruelty,
Rose yielded to deep, heart-rending
sorrow.

With frantic grief she uttered the most
heart-piercing shrieks, for having suppressed
the anguish that overwhelmed her, to
avoid afflicting Jane, it had a more violent
effect when she could indulge it. The
dear companion of her earliest youth, for whose K10v 212
whose sake she had encountered the greatest
uneasiness, was gone, and lost, never to
return, in the most shocking and affecting
manner. The only shadow of comfort that
remained was her having been united to
the count de Fontenai, and it was now in
Rose’s power to conceal from her parents
the erroneous part of her sister’s conduct.

Kamira and the benevolent Mr. Murray
arrived happily at the critical moment
when Miss Douglas’s agonizing sorrow was
at the greatest height. Though nearly delirious
with the frenzied grief that threatened
to shake her reason, Mr. Murray insisted
on her being removed to the earl of
Arlberry’s
residence.

With difficulty they tore her from the
inanimate corse of her loved sister, which
she embraced and kissed, and then spoke
to it, as if living, with a tenderness and affection
that melted all who were present,
and tears of pity fell from every eye. Mr.
Murray
and her sister’s female servant attended
Rose to the earl’s, where lady Elinornor K11r 213
received her with a kindness and compassion
that first calmed the distraction of
her perturbed mind.

Kamira remained with the breathless
body of the hapless and misguided countess
de Fontenai
, to watch over and see that the
last sad duties were paid to all that was left
of this once lively and lovely woman, who
had fallen an early sacrifice to levity and
imprudence.

When Mr. Murray had seen Rose safely
placed under the protection of the amiable
lady Elinor, he returned to Somerset-street,
to inquire into the particulars relative to
this sad catastrophe, and received nearly
the following intelligence:—

Colonel Guilford was quite impatient at
not receiving an answer by return of post
from Miss Douglas. In consequence of
this disappointment, he set off directly for
London, and, the day after his arrival,
watched about the house where Jane resided,
as he would not approach her former
residence, fearful of seeing Rose, with whom K11v 214
whom he was offended for not immediately
answering his letter, and suspected that
she approved whatever line of conduct her
sister chose to pursue. From a window
opposite to the house, he beheld, with stifled
rage, Jane come out, leaning on the
arm of the count de Fontenai; and the mistress
of the house informed him, that she
understood the young gentleman and lady
were a new-married couple.

On the following day he planted himself
in his former post, and again had the mortification
of seeing her, elegantly dressed,
and more attractive to him than before, handed
into a handsome chariot by the count, who
got in afterwards. He was driven to frenzy
at this sight, for either as De Fontenai’s
mistress or wife, to him she was irrecoverably
lost. Guilford really loved Jane, and
would not have deserted her for any consideration,
having incurred immense expence
and trouble to obtain her.

Distraction seized his brain, as the pangs
of disappointed love agonized his mind, and K12r 215
and remorse touched his heart for having
first led her astray from the paths of duty,
which caused her to more easily become
the victim, a second time, of temptation.

Determined to revenge himself on his
happy rival, whose felicity he was resolved
should not be unmolested, as he considered
Jane as torn from him without hope, he
armed himself with a brace of loaded pistols.
Vengeance and wounded affection
racked his tortured breast, and he was firm
in his purpose of making the count fight,
and inwardly decided that either De Fontenai
or himself should lifeless fall.

Colonel Guilford stationed himself in
Somerset-street till he perceived the count,
who had gone out exceedingly early, return
home. From the window where he had
watched them previously, he beheld him
enter the drawing-room where Jane was.
Wild with jealousy, and a desire to be revenged,
he hastily left his concealment opposite,
and knocked at his rival’s door. A
maid-servant opened it, and without askinging K12v 216
any questions, he rushed up the stairs,
and into the drawing-room, leaving the
maid, who took him for a robber, in terror
and amazement.

When Guilford entered, with the look of
a maniac, Jane shrieked with horror. She
was seated in an affectionate manner by
the side of De Fontenai (who had the day
before made her his bride); her hand was
clasped in his, and his arm was round her
waist.

Guilford’s brain maddened at the sight.
He drew the fatal pistols from his pocket.
“Here, destroyer of my peace!” he madly
exclaimed, in a furious voice, “take one
of these! both or either of us shall die! Let
that faithless creature, that I still love to
distraction, see us perish, and share the mischief,
the misery she has made me suffer!”

The count, though a fop, was not deficient
in courage; he seized one of the pistols,
and Guilford the other. At that moment
Jane, till then silent, and petrified
with gloomy terror, flew to him, and endeavoured,deavoured L1r 217
almost unconscious of what she
did, to wrest the pistol from his hand. In
the struggle it suddenly went off, and its
contents lodged in the side of the wretched
Jane. She groaned, tottered a few steps,
and then fell fainting on the floor.

De Fontenai, wild with affliction and
anguish, raised her from the spot where
she fell, and placed her on the couch.

Colonel Guilford, stunned at beholding
the ruin he had caused, and the murdered
senseless body of her he loved, staggered
almost insensible to the further end of the
room.

The count thought that he, the author of
this horrible spectacle, who had perhaps deprived
him for ever of the object he adored,
was now trying to escape from the misery
he had caused. The idea enraged him to
fury; he looked at Jane, who appeared
mortally wounded, and grasping the other
pistol, which the colonel had thrown down,
with too sure an aim shot Guilford through
the heart, who uttered a heavy groan, sunk Vol. III. L convulsed, L1v 218
convulsed, writhed in agony, and breathed
his last sigh.

The heart-piercing shrieks of Jane when
wounded, the groans of the expiring Guilford,
and report of the pistols, brought up
the servants, who were alarmed at these
unusual sounds. They advised and besought
their master to save himself before
it was too late, as, if he remained, he
would be apprehended for the murder of
colonel Guilford.

The count was unwilling to quite Jane,
who was beginning to recover her senses;
but they represented so forcibly the danger
that would attend him if he continued
there, and that he would then be snatched
from her, that he yielded to their humane
entreaties for him to be gone. After imprinting
a mournful kiss on her pale lips,
De Fontenai quitted his home, and travelled
expeditiously to the nearest seaport,
to take the first opportunity of embarking
for a foreign country, till the
event of the prosecution that would probablybably L2r 219
be commenced against him by Guilford’s
friends was determined.

The servants had promised the count
that the greatest care should be taken of
madame de Fontenai, and the most assiduous
attention paid her. They had urged
the necessity of his instant flight, as his
being a foreigner would be very much to
his disadvantage. A surgeon was sent
for to examine the wounds of Jane and
Guilford.

Jane revived a little, and sufficiently so
afterwards to desire her sister might be
sent for, though her wound was pronounced
mortal; but in Guilford the last struggle
of expiring nature had passed—he was
quite dead. His body was removed into
another apartment, and seldom had a scene
so replete with horror, and appalling to
the feeling mind, been witnessed.

Mr. Murray sent an express to Guilford’s
elder brother, with whom he was
slightly acquainted. He was a man of L2 large L2v 220
large fortune, and had the body conveyed
to his residence a few miles from town.
When the cause of his death was related
to him, and by whose hand he had fallen,
he was resolved to avenge colonel Guilford’s
fate by a strict search after the
count de Fontenai, whom he determined
to bring to justice, that he might be tried
for his brother’s murder.

Mr. Murray secretly hoped that De
Fontenai
had by this time escaped, as the
horrible catastrophe would, if the count
was seized, be publicly mentioned, and
cause the deepest affliction to the general
and the surviving part of his family, and
on that account he wished this unfortunate
affair to be consigned to oblivion.

Kamira remained in Somerset-street till
the interment of the lamented Jane, the
hapless victim of her own imprudence,
had taken place. So many tears did the
feeling Esquimaux shed for her untimely
end, that she was nearly reduced to a skeleton;leton; L3r 221
and when she appeared before Rose
attired in deep mourning, scarcely could
she recognize her.

Thus few, degrading, and unhappy for
herself, were the days of the young, the
giddy, and lovely Jane. The transient
moments of pleasure she enjoyed could
not recompense her for the acute hours of
remorse and misery she endured. Had
her indiscretion only wounded her own
peace, the fate she sought would not have
been so lamentable; but grief for her premature
melancholy death was likewise
severely destructive to the health of her
sister, and caused her friend lady Elinor
to be apprehensive that the consequence
of her sorrow would be fatal, and general
Douglas
be deprived, almost at the same
period, of both daughters. Lady Elinor
endeavoured to infuse the balm of consolation
into her dejected mind; she represented
the additional anguish of her parents
and brother, if she also sunk into the
grave, and the agony of her faithful lover, L3 sir L3v 222
sir Eglamour, to find on his return the
dear object of his affection torn from him
without hope.

Rose was too reasonable to refuse listening
to the consoling voice of disinterested
friendship, and by slow degrees recovered.
She reflected, and recalled to remembrance
her mother’s words, who had often said to
her and her sister, that repentance and
pain generally follow the steps of guilt,
too fatally illustrated in her sister’s sad
destiny.

To Mrs. Fane devolved the cruel task
of communicating as cautiously as possible
the death of their daughter to the general
and his lady, but not the dreadful
circumstances attendant on it. Mrs. Fane
wrote a letter to Mrs. Douglas, in which
she said she sincerely condoled with her
on her late great loss, and truly felt its
extent; but when she reflected it was the
act of the greatest and best of beings, she
hoped she would not refuse consolation.
“Doubtless,” continued Mrs. Fane, “your calamity L4r 223
calamity is the most heart-rending which
can befall a parent; but recollect that you
still possess good and dutiful children, and
I am sure that you will be resigned to that
Providence which comforts while it chastens.
They, too, can never forget the
comfort afforded them by your regard,
and the affection of their father.”

However kind and consolatory were
the suggestions of Mrs. Fane, yet this
unexpected blow deeply wounded, though
the general supported the fatal stroke with
more fortitude than his wife. They were
both solicitous that Rose should immediately
visit Mrs. Fane, as the change of
air might be beneficial to her health, which
they understood was much injured by the
shock her feeling heart had sustained.
They derived much comfort from the occasional
society of their son, who concealed
his own grief to alleviate theirs.

As soon as Rose found her strength
sufficiently restored, in compliance with
their wishes she intended to commence L4 her L4v 224
her journey into Devonshire; yet she
dreaded to revisit the scene of her innocent
and youthful happiness, since it
would forcibly remind her of her loved
sister, whose errors were forgotten in the
grave, and her good and pleasing qualities
only remembered.

Mild as Rose naturally was, she was detested,
and could hardly restrain from execrating
Mrs. Pryce, the original source of all
Jane’s faults and sorrows, as the society of
an unprincipled vicious woman is replete
with danger for a young person whose pliant
disposition is easily susceptible of dangerous
impressions; yet she was anxious to
embrace the orphan Caroline—ill-fated
child of unfortunate parents, whom she
determined ever to regard, and consider
with the tenderness of a mother.

The separation between lady Elinor and
Rose was particularly affecting on the part
of the latter, who quitted her with unfeigned
regret. Her heart, which was alive to
gratitude, felt at that instant the very
great obligations she had conferred. So rich, L5r 225
rich, so fair, and high in rank; and to blend
with all these advantages the purest compassion,
with a benevolence that sought
privacy, was a character so infinitely angelic,
that she must only be known to be
ardently loved. Lady Elinor had not merely
commiserated her woes, but effectually
served her; and when she pressed her hand
at parting, the evident emotion of her
countenance convinced this friend of the
children of sorrow that her feeling beneficence
had not been bestowed on an ingrate.

“Never will I forget how much I owe
you,”
exclaimed Rose to lady Elinor, just
before her departure. “Esteem and gratitude
shall be cherished in my breast, till
life no longer exists; with my last sigh
alone shall your goodness vanish from remembrance.”

The earl of Arlberry’s carriage conveyed
Rose, accompanied by Kamira, the first
stage on their journey to Devonshire.
When the venerable Murray took leave
of her, the day before she left London, he L5 mentioned L5v 226
mentioned that, as he was acquainted with
every particular relating to the affairs of
her family, he would acquaint her with
a sudden thought that had occurred to
him. He was reflecting on the difficulties
thrown in the general’s way to prevent
his taking possession of his late brother’s
estates and property, and recollected
that the clergyman she had spoken of as
having united sir James Douglas to Helen
Ramsay
was probably his cousin, as
he had a relation of that name belonging
to the church. In consequence of this reflection,
he intended writing to the reverend
Mr. Murray, to inquire if he had
ever resided near the Castle of Towie
Craigs
, and married sir James, or Davie
M’Gregor
, to the woman called Helen
Ramsay
. Mr. Richard Murray continued to
say, that in the event of hearing any thing
satisfactory, he would write her the account
at Mrs. Fane’s, and also inform general
Douglas
of the agreeable intelligence, which L6r 227
which he should be most happy to communicate.

A faint dawn of hope gleamed in the
bosom of Rose at this unexpected discovery;
but she dared not indulge the pleasing
expectation, from the fear of disappointment,
to which she had become inured.
Yet she ardently wished that her father
might conquer his misfortunes, and his
declining years happiness, tranquillity, and
plenty, would then crown.

After lord Arlberry’s carriage had returned
to town, Rose and Kamira got into
a postchaise, as lady Elinor had insisted on
defraying the expences of her journey, and
would not allow her, in the weakened
state of her health, to travel in a public
conveyance. The spirits of the feeling
Esquimaux, hitherto generally all life and
vivacity, were strikingly altered and depressed,
and she was never cheerful but
when she perceived Miss Douglas less sad.
Rose had written to Mrs. Fane, mentioning
at what time she expected to arrive at L6 the L6v 228
the nearest inn, about a mile from her residence;
and here she found that lady’s
post-chariot waiting to convey her home.

This attention was most pleasing, and
the soothing consolation of her kindness,
when she arrived, a little renovated her
dejected mind. Mrs. Fane observed that
Rose and Kamira were apparently much
fatigued; she insisted on their retiring instantly
to rest, and perceiving that Rose
had a slight cold, gave her some whey
herself in bed.

Miss Douglas arose the following morning,
much benefited by the truly maternal
tenderness of her old friend, and was
quite refreshed and revived. After breakfasting
together, she told Mrs. Fane it was
her intention to walk over to Treharne to
visit Robin and Dolly, and as soon as her
strength was more recruited, to call upon
Caroline.

“You are not strong enough to walk
so far yet,”
replied Mrs. Fane: “my chariot
shall convey you to the Hall, where you L7r 229
you may amuse yourself in strolling about
the garden, and then return here.”

Rose thanked her, and Mrs. Fane ordered
it to be brought to the door as soon
as it could be got ready.

Miss Douglas was composed and resigned,
till the turrets of Treharne appeared
in view, rising above the trees; her
heart palpitated, and a cold shivering came
over her: but when the whole of the edifice
broke on her sight, she flung herself
back in the carriage, and wept in agony.
The desolate demolished appearance of the
old mansion reminded her of her own fate,
and that of her family. Part of it was
laid in the dust, as Jane the youngest of
them was, perhaps never to be restored,
as the miserable state of their finances
seemed to denounce that it must remain
for ever in ruins. Kamira sounded the
well-known bugle, and Robin and Dolly,
clad in deep mourning, the gift of Mrs.
Fane
, appeared directly on the Hall steps. The L7v 230
The father and daughter both crossed the
river to ferry them over.

“We be main glad to see you, Miss,”
exclaimed Dolly, “though be sure it be a
sorrowful meeting.”

“Don’t’ee be talking of dismal things
gone by,”
rejoined Robin. “Miss is dull
enow, Dolly; she sha’n’t be minded of
what’s past: it is a long lane that has no
turning; when things are at the worst
they’ll mend. You must shew Miss Rose
what care ye have taken of her plants and
harmitage.”

“It has divarted me a great deal,” said
Dolly, “to tend them, for it has been so
lonely ever sin ye left, Miss, for Lunnun.
You would hae thought, for all the world,
there were scores of devils here. I can’t
say what to make of it. I used to say my
prayers over and over again, when I heard
their rigs.”

“What nonsense, girl, ye do tell! I be
so mortal glad to see Miss, that I hae forgotgot L8r 231
all the noises and vagaries of the evil
spirits, if as how they be such.”

Rose prevented a continuance of this
conversation, by making Robin a handsome
present to drink hers and his master
and mistress’s health, not forgetting
to include her brother’s. She likewise
charmed Dolly, by informing her she had
brought down a smart bonnet and shawl
for her to wear on Sundays and holidays,
which quite won the simple maiden’s heart.

Dolly now attended Miss Douglas and
Kamira to the garden and hermitage. Her
young lady was much pleased with the
neat order in which she had kept the plants
and hermitage. When they had walked
about and examined every thing, Rose
told Kamira to go and chat with her old
friends, Robin and Dolly, and she would
in that interval walk over the apartments
that remained of their once-extensive and
comfortable, though ancient residence.

Rose experienced a melancholy pleasure
in retracing the scenes of her early youth, before L8v 232
before real sorrow had clouded her moments.
In the library her sister’s lute reminded
her of happier days, and affected
her so much, that she desisted from exploring
any more of the apartments, and
left the library. She recollected having
forgotten her scarf, and that it was in her
former bedchamber. As she went in search
of it, she inwardly determined to make
Kamira remove every article that would
remind her of Jane into a closet in that
room, and carefully lock them up.

Rose was descending the stairs, after
recovering her scarf, overwhelmed with
pensive reflections, when happening accidentally
to turn her head, she perceived,
from a door on the staircase, a man with
a rough black head, peeing at her.

Miss Douglas behaved as if she had not
perceived him, and hoped that he thought
she had not, as she proceeded slowly and
quietly down. The unexpected object she
had beheld on the staircase she did not
notice to Robin or Dolly, as it would alarm L9r 233
alarm their fears. Rose conjectured that
he belonged to the gang of thieves who
she imagined had caused the strange sounds
that occasionally, for so many years, had
molested the Hall at night, and at length,
she supposed, set the building on fire. It
might indeed be a sweetheart of Dolly’s,
whom she had received probably unknown
to her father. In that case, she was averse
to discovering this love affair, by mentioning
what she had seen, as the old man
would most likely be displeased with his
daughter.

With her firmly-attached Indian, Rose
now quitted Treharne, overcome with dejection;
for the picture of desolation this
once-cheerful mansion presented, where
happiness and gaiety formerly enlivened
its antique walls, was so forcibly contrasted
with its lonely ruined air, that her spirits
were depressed by the painful recollections
it recalled.

Yet each corroding care and pensive
thought were removed as with a magic wand, L9v 234
wand, when she discovered the pure and unexpected
felicity that awaited her on returning
home. Sir Eglamour Delavalle, brave
as he was good, was waiting to receive her
at the door of Mrs. Fane’s residence. He
handed her from the carriage, looking more
handsome and fascinating than ever.

The transition from pensive sadness to
excess of happiness nearly overpowered
Rose. Supported by her faithful lover, she
reached the drawing-room, and being then
free from witnesses, they affectionately
embraced.

This instant of purest bliss rewarded
them for every anxious and painful moment
they had endured; and only those
who have truly loved can imagine their
genuine unalloyed delight. To gaze on
the form—to hear the voice they loved,
was to them unequalled joy. Much are
those to be pitied who are incapable of the
tenderness of true affection, which ennobles
the heart, susceptible then of the best and
noblest impressions.

Sir L10r 235

Sir Eglamour described the hardships
and privations he had encountered in Holland.
He observed to Rose, that he was
frequently obliged to sleep with his men
and brother-officers on the damp muddy
ground. Often did the rain pour down
in torrents on their unsheltered heads; yet
still they all slept soundly, exhausted with
fatigue, and he had not experienced one
day’s illness in consequence.—“It is your
prayers, my sweet love,”
he exclaimed, and
touched her cheek, “that have protected
in the hour of peril.”

Rose blushed; and every shadow of
grief was banished from her mind in his
loved society.

When the delirium of joy at their meeting
had in a day or two subsided, and allowed
them to think of other things less interesting,
Rose related to Delavalle the events
that had taken place since his departure,
with the exception of Jane’s imprudence.

On this painful subject he made no inquiry,
having heard, with concern, of her death, L10v 236
death, from lady Elinor, to whom he was
directed, by Mr. Linn, to learn where Miss
Douglas
was residing.

Lady Elinor had merely informed sir
Eglamour
that Jane was married to the
count de Fontenai, and that an enraged
rival had occasioned the fatal catastrophe,
which had deeply afflicted her sister and
other relations.

In the course of conversation, Rose likewise
acquainted her lover with the nocturnal
sounds that had for some years, at
different periods, disturbed her repose;
the suspicion also lurking in her mind,
that the persons who caused those extraordinary
noises were the same that had set
Treharne Hall on fire, and her alarm at
seeing the rough-headed man peeping at
her, on her last visit to the old mansion.
Rose also candidly imparted the difficulties
herself and family had sustained, and
the dreary prospect now afforded of general
Douglas
being deprived of the fortune
bequeathed by her uncle.

Sir L11r 237

Sir Eglamour smiled. He perceived the
uneasiness she felt, and instantly endeavoured
to disperse it.—“The loss of fortune
shall not afflict you,”
he exclaimed,
“with energy: that I can repair. I possess
a very liberal income, and am delighted
to assure you it is in my power to shelter
you from pecuniary cares; and not
only the woman I love, but the general
and your mother shall likewise partake of
whatever I possess. It will not be any
sacrifice for you, on such an occasion, to
practice a little more economy than otherwise
would be necessary, as we are neither
of us inclined to be extravagant.”

Could any heart, susceptible of gratitude
and affection, refrain from loving,
with more than common attachment, such
a man, so nobly superior, who combined
with distinguished virtue an elegant and
perfect exterior?

“It occurs to me,” continued Delavalle,
“that the secrets of the caverns are connected
with the smugglers who wounded me, L11v 238
me, and after whom I made a frequent
and unsuccessful search. Your communication
will, I hope, lead to a discovery, at
which I shall truly rejoice, after a fruitless
and continual pursuit of these rascally fellows.”

“I shudder,” replied Rose, “at the
most distant idea of your encountering
these desperate villains. If you have the
most trifling regard for me, do not think
of risking your valued life in endeavouring
to bring them to justice.”

“For your sake, if not for my own, I
shall be very cautious in the steps I take
against them. But, to speak the truth, I
should dislike exceedingly to fall by such
dishonourable hands; therefore, depend
on my being vigilant and prudent. It is
my intention to attack them with a strong
force, well armed, and there cannot be the
most remote fear of danger, when you consider
the precaution I shall observe.”

Rose was a little calmed by this assertion,
yet her anxiety lest any accident should L12r 239
should happen to him still remained, as
she was tremblingly alive with solicitude
for those she loved; but his promise that
he would be careful, and not rash, contributed
to sooth her uneasiness.

Part of a regular marching regiment
was quartered at Exeter. Sir Eglamour
was slightly acquainted with one of the
officers, who introduced him shortly after
to the colonel. He then mentioned the
affair of the smugglers in confidence to
him, as it was strictly proper and prudent
the measures he intended to take should
be kept secret, that these ruffians might
not be aware of the plan laid to ensnare
them.

It frequently happens, that when fortune
has smiled in one instance, she will
continue to repeat her favours, and is as
liberal of them as of her former frowns.
A short time after the arrival of sir Eglamour,
Rose received a letter Mr. Richard
Murray
, in which he mentioned having
had an answer from his relation, the clergyman,man, L12v 240
informing him that he was resident
several years near the Castle of Towie
Craigs
, and married Davie M’Gregor to
Helen Ramsay. This relation added, that
a report of his death had been spread, which
had encouraged, he imagined, the villanous
attorney to invent the tale respecting
sir James’s marriage, who, contrary to every
idea of marrying a woman so obscure, had,
in his hearing, often expressed an aversion
to Helen, saying she was a bold impudent
creature, and that he would discharge her
from his service when his health was restored.
The clergyman gave the same character
of Davie as was previously sketched,
observing that he was inoffensive and well-
disposed. His place of abode, he doubted
not, would be easily discovered, and he
ready to come forward to serve the general,
if necessary. But his testimony of the
falsehood of Helen’s statement would, he
imagined, be quite sufficient to prove a
conspiracy to deprive general Douglas of
his lawful property.

Mr. M1r 241

Mr. Richard Murray continued to write,
that in consequence of this information he
had written to her father, and to his relation,
desiring the latter to wait immediately
on general Douglas, and give him
all the intelligence in his power to elucidate
this iniquitous transaction. It was
his intention, he observed, to defray the
expences he would incur; and that he
was convinced the general would feel truly
happy to make him a handsome recompence
for his trouble, as the fortunate termination
of this affair was of the greatest
importance to his and his children’s interest.

This joyful communication, in addition
to the felicity that before exhilarated her
spirits, was nearly overwhelming, after the
repeated sorrows Rose had sustained; and
she felt that excess of joy was difficult to
support. The decline of her excellent parents’
lives would be smooth and tranquil,
after their severe sufferings, and she was
enraptured at this good news, because it Vol. III. M would M1v 242
would also please her disinterested lover.
He had proved that his affection was void
of any regard to private advantage, which
heightened her solicitude to reward his
generous attachment. She was highly
gratified that he would not at present enter
into a distressed family, nor receive her
without a portion. Sir Eglamour appeared
to her of so liberal a disposition, that
she reflected it would be desirable for him
to be wealthy, from the excellent use he
would make of his riches, by befriending
those who required assistance from the benevolent.
Yet, amidst all these smiling
prospects, a sigh escaped her bosom; when
the remembrance of Jane clouded her moments
of delighted expectation. She wished
that her sister had endured their calamities
with resignation, and then she would
have enjoyed their prosperity in innocence
and peace.

In the mean while, sir Eglamour, who had
formed his plan relative to exploring the caverns,
to penetrate into the secrets they concealed,cealed, M2r 243
now began to put his scheme into execution.
He procured from his new acquaintance,
colonel Jenkins, fifty soldiers,
well armed, not dressed in their military
habits, but in shabby plain clothes. They
all arrived one dark evening at Treharne,
and were received quietly by Robin, who
distributed and secreted them in different
parts of the ruined building, which was extensive
enough to have contained a greater
body of men; but most of them were
placed near the cellars, where the fire had
been first kindled.

In the dead of the night, when all had
retired to rest, and every thing was still,
sir Eglamour, unknown to Rose, stole
down the stairs, and softly opening the
house-door at Mrs. Fane’s, it was gently
closed after him by one of the domestics.
He then joined his servant, who was waiting
with two horses a few yards from the
house; and mounting one of them, rode
swiftly off, followed by his man. Some
of the soldiers, in eager expectation of his M2 arrival, M2v 244
arrival, had placed themselves on the opposite
side of the river, and they crossed
over to the Hall together as quietly as
possible. Strongly armed, twenty of them
attended sir Eglamour into the first cellar,
where it was settled fifteen were to
remain, and the remainder were to be stationed
outside, except one, that was to
be centinel near the long passage; and if
the party advancing forward were to be
attacked, he was to blow a shrill loud whistle,
and all the soldiers at that sound were
to rush forward to defend their comrades.

They passed uninterrupted through the
vaults and long passage which Rose and
Kamira had formerly examined, and at
length reached the first cavern, which appeared
to them inhabited. On opening the
door conducting to its interior, a sulphurous
smell and thick smoke issued from it, and
nearly suffocated them. At the same instant
a low moaning attracted their attention;
but the vapours and smoky scent
were so oppressive, that the men did not like M3r 245
like to advance, till their commander exclaimed
“Leave open the door, and the
fume will disperse gradually.”

Sir Eglamour then pushed forward into
that part of the subterranean retreat from
whence the groans proceeded. Here reclined,
on a bed (described in the second
volume) the form of a lady in the meridian
of life, apparently expiring, as her face was
convulsed and distorted, as if writhing in
the agonies of death. It was immediately
conjectured by sir Eglamour and the men,
that the charcoal they discovered had been
used to air the cavern, which was very
damp, probably from being long uninhabited,
had been burnt in too large a quantity,
and set fire to some wood near. There
was no discharge outward for the smoke,
which, united with the suffocating fume
and smell of sulphur, had overpowered the
lady’s senses, and nearly choked her by
excluding a pure free air.

“Bear the lady from the cave into the
hall,”
said sir Eglamour, to three of the M3 soldiers, M3v 246
soldiers, “and send your comrades to supply
your place. The change may recover
her, and restore respiration, which appears
almost gone. I know not if she is respectable
—I fear otherwise; but humanity demands
that we shall give her all the assistance
in our power.”

The men obeyed him, and after waiting
till the other soldiers arrived, sir Eglamour
entered, through a door opposite to that
which conducted them to the lady, into
a long narrow vault, containing an immense
number of casks, some of them empty,
but the principal part of them stored
with smuggled brandy, Hollands, and
wine. From this vault they went into
another, filled with wearing apparel of every
description, and foreign habits. Among
these they distinguished the turban and
garments of the unhappy Moor that Rose
had seen extended a murdered corse, and
was doomed, after being saved, from a watery
grave, to lose his life by the assassin
of the cavern. Rose had described his dress, M4r 247
dress, and the horrid spectacle he presented
to her terrified sight, and sir Eglamour recognized
his clothes from her descriptive
account. A variety of guns, pistols, swords,
and other instruments of dark murder and
secret assassination, the vaults likewise
contained. Their leader again addressed
the soldiers, and observed that they must
continue their search with the utmost caution
and silence, and the mystery, he
thought, would soon be disclosed, and success
attend their researches and pursuit of
the ruffians, who had committed such lawless
and sanguinary deeds.

They pursued their route onwards without
speaking, till they attained a small
cave, with more barrels in it. This opened
into the cavern where Rose beheld
Mrs. Pryce and the stranger, who had excited
an interest in her bosom, from his
elegant superior air, though disguised.
The sound of several voices in earnest discourse
made the party suddenly halt, and
attentively listen.

M4 By M4v 248

By the conversation passing in the next
cave, it did not appear that many persons
were assembled there. Sir Eglamour whispered
to his soldiers, that now, if they were
resolved and courageous, an excellent opportunity
offered for seizing the smugglers,
that he supposed were collected in
the adjacent cavern. They unanimously
declared they were eager to attempt making
the villains their prisoners, and at a signal
given by him, rushed to the door, which
they burst open, and discovered only six
men meanly dressed. These men were seated
at a table, with a good supper before them, and
a plentiful supply of beer and brandy. The
soldiers secured them without opposition,
and sir Eglamour said to his companions,
who were not employed to guard the
smugglers—“Let us pursue our examination,
and continue the search till we arrive
at the sea-shore.”

“It is giving yourself useless trouble,
sir,”
rejoined the most respectable looking
of the smugglers; “you will not find any inhabitant M5r 249
inhabitant of these caves but ourselves. I
will turn evidence, and confess all, if you
are, as I think, the friend of general Douglas
and his family.”

“You have guessed right,” replied sir
Eglamour
, “and there is an appearance of
truth about you; yet, considering your
infamous situation and associates, and not
knowing any thing relating to your character,
it will not be prudent to attend to
your assertions. Your motive may be to
give time for a large body of your brother
smugglers to overpower us. I shall go
forward and examine every avenue and
recess leading from hence to the sea, and
if I find, on my return, that your veracity
is unquestioned, I will then listen to your
story.”

Sir Eglamour now departed, after leaving
a sufficient number of soldiers to prevent
the smugglers’ escape. He continued,
with his remaining companions, his route
through the damp, gloomy, subterraneous
passages and dens, that had too long shelteredM5 tered M5v 250
the most merciless villains, till they attained
the desolate ruined house on the sea
beach. They found his wretched abode
quite deserted, with the appearance of its
inmates having fled from it precipitately.
They afterwards left the ruined house,
and returned to the caverns, where they
secured the entrance withinside so strongly,
that it was impossible for any one to
enter by that communication, and soon
arrived at the spot they had quitted.

The man who had first addressed sir
Eglamour
was again the spokesman for
the others, who looked very dejected, and
not in the least daring. This smuggler
informed sir Eglamour that it was twenty
years since smuggling had been practised
upon that part of the coast to a great extent.
Lord Treharne, the brother of Mrs.
Douglas
, was connected with these men,
who considered him as their chief, as they
were under great obligations to his lordship,
for allowing them the use of the
caves for their retreat, where they could safely M6r 251
safely conceal their contraband goods.
Here they also secreted the plunder they
obtained from vessels that were frequently
wrecked near the spot. In stormy weather,
the most ferocious part of the gang,
who were foreigners, brought from abroad
by lord Treharne, watched for several
miles along the coast, to pillage the wrecks,
and rob any shipwrecked persons who
gained the land with any property they
had saved from the waves; and the booty
on these occasions was often very valuable.

“I was informed,” continued the man,
“that my lord had many a long year since
expended all his own, as well as his wife’s
fortune, and the want of a shilling induced
him to league with our company, and add
some people dependent on him, besides
the foreigners, to our numbers, and his
lordship’s share of the money and spoils
we gained was always the most considerable.
The fisherman and his wife, at the
ruined house, were in our secrets, and the
whole scheme for carrying on our depredationsM6 dations M6v 252
was so well contrived by my lord,
that we always escaped detection. Yet
many unfortunate victims have fallen beneath
the murderous hand of the most
savage and bloodthirsty of our comrades,
and were buried in the ground below the
caves, so very deep that the bodies could
not easily be discovered. The plunder we
obtained in jewels and gold was very important,
as well as the profits we got by importing
and exporting contraband goods:
but the part allotted to us, who were reckoned
inferior to the most guilty, was very
small, compared to the others. One of the
principal men, who was in lord Treharne’s
confidence, whose life he had saved, took
a fancy to me, and imparted all that he
knew of his affairs, and every transaction,
as he was certain, for my own sake, I
should not impeach and betray the rest.

When I joined the gang,” added the
man, “I had not a thought of their being
more than mere smugglers, and was tempted
by poverty to follow this course of life. My M7r 253
My wife, who was very dear to me, and
five little children, were starving, as a long
fit of illness had thrown me out of employment,
and I was persuaded to make
one of them, as it was their plan to augment
their numbers as much as possible,
and not a single man had ever proved
treacherous. Colonel Guilford, who was
killed, I am told, in London, was a friend
of my lord’s; he was in the secret, and visited
the caverns occasionally with him.
All the noises and alarming sounds that
disturbed the family at Treharne were
made by our men, at the instigation of his
lordship, who wished his relations to think
the Hall was haunted, and cause such an
aversion and horror of the place, that they
would be inclined to forsake it for a more
agreeable abode. The secret of the caverns
was unknown to Mrs. Douglas, her brother
only being acquainted with it, which
made him the more enraged with his father
for having left Treharne Hall to his
sister, who might discover the subterraneousneous M7v 254
retreat, which would end in his and
our total ruin: we had no other safe refuge
where we could secretly shelter ourselves
and our goods. His lordship likewise
employed us to carry off Miss Douglas
and her maid. The young lady was
to have been placed under the protection
of captain Courtenay, who had promised
her uncle a large sum of money for this
piece of service, though the captain did not
know my lord was confederate with robbers
and smugglers. However, I was so moved
with Miss Douglas’s situation, who I had
always heard was a good young lady, that
I felt for her as a father, having children of
my own. I would not therefore give her
up to captain Courtenay, whose intentions
were, I was certain, very base, and would
ill treat her from revenge, as I was told.
These thoughts made me contrive her escape;
I saved her from destruction, and
hope this action will incline you to pardon
me and my companions here, who, no
more than myself, ever committed a greaterer M8r 255
crime than that of smuggling a cask of
liquor.”

“For that good deed you have performed,
in saving Miss Douglas from ruin, depend
on being requited,”
replied sir Eglamour:
“but who is that lady we found
nearly expiring in the cave where charcoal
had been burning?”

“Her name is Pryce,” rejoined the man,
“an old mistress of my lord’s from his
youth, who made him more wicked than
he naturally was, as it is said. Lord Treharne
received information that our retreat
was discovered, and on the point of being
examined. In consequence of this intelligence,
he ordered one of our smuggling
vessels to be prepared to convey himself,
the foreigners, and most infamous of the
gang, to some distant country. They packed
up every thing of value, and would
have taken myself and companions, but we
declined going with them, not thinking
the caves would be searched for some days,
and from a wish to quit the gang for ever.”

“How M8v 256

“How has it happened that Mrs. Pryce
did not accompany lord Treharne?”

“I was told,” said the man, “that she
followed him against his inclination from
London, where he had discovered some of
her sly tricks, and that she was not true
to him. They had a meeting in the caverns,
and a high quarrel; he refused to
give her money, or take her with him,
though she vowed revenge. Her threats
hastened his departure, and he embarked
before daybreak yesterday morning. His
lordship desired us to avoid her, and the
wind being favourable, the vessel sailed
directly; yet I cannot help thinking that
it was something more than the charcoal
that reduced her, sir, to the state in which
she was found.”

There was a decided air of truth in what
this man advanced, which, united with
the reflection that he had protected his
loved Rose, and preserved her from danger
of the worst descriptions, prepossessed sir
Eglamour
considerably in his favour. He desired M9r 257
desired the smugglers to finish their repast,
and suffered the soldiers to regale themselves
with the best contents of one of the
barrels, and some provision that was in the
cavern.

While they were enjoying this refreshment,
sir Eglamour resolved, in consideration
of the service the man had rendered
Miss Douglas, to suffer him and his companions
to escape. They all assured him,
that they had intended, when their comrades
left them, to enter as seamen on board
a man-of-war, for sailors (at that time) were
much required for his majesty’s navy. After
the soldiers and smugglers had regaled
themselves, the latter were conveyed and
secured in the cellar, near the entrance into
the Hall.

Sir Eglamour now quitted the damp cellars,
to inquire after the wretched woman
her criminal paramour had justly deserted.
Her he beheld a stiffened corse. Life had
been allowed her to scrawl a few lines to
Rose Douglas, when she felt herself dying in M9v 258
in the habitation of the family she had irreparably
injured. Conscious of her crimes,
she asked her forgiveness, saying, that since
the death of the unfortunate Jane, which
had reached her ears, the most torturing
remorse had deprived her of sleep and
rest. Misguided by her, she knew that
she had consigned her sister to an early
grave, who might have lived, but for her
blighting hand, in innocence and peace.
The horror those thoughts inspired, and
the desertion of lord Treharne, inflamed
her senses, and in a moment of outrageous
despair, she had taken a draught of poison,
to end her guilty and miserable existence.
The venomous potion was not, however, so
speedy in its operation as she expected, and
allowed her to confess her crimes, the only
atonement she could make for guilt unequalled.

The body of this wretched creature presented
the most awful and appalling spectacle.
Her face was hideously black and
distorted, her hands were clenched, her eyes M10r 259
eyes glared horribly through their glassy
film, and a ghastly grin, caused by the convulsive
agonies of pain and death, disfigured
that countenance, which inspired
aversion and terror, instead of pity. No
tear of regret and affectionate sorrow bedewed
her disfigured corse.

“Let not the wicked think,” exclaimed
sir Eglamour, addressing Robin and Dolly,
who were present, “that retributive justice
will never overtake them.”

“’Tis but too true,” replied Robin, shaking
his white locks, “that a punishment
awaits them, sooner or later; if not in this
world, it will be more severe in the next.”

They all turned from this dreadful sight
of justly-inflicted vengeance, with disgust
and horror. A most violent storm arose,
and the fury of the tempest, united with
the darkness of night, and surrounding
gloom, seemed congenial with this solemn
punishment of wickedness unparalleled.

Sir Eglamour descended again to the
cellar, and found the men he had left to guard M10v 260
guard the entrance fast asleep. He rejoiced
at the circumstance, and entered gently,
to avoid disturbing their repose, and in a
low voice addressed the man who assisted
Rose to escape.

“I will allow you to fly from this confinement,”
said sir Eglamour, “as I believe
your assertions, provided that you and your
associates pronounce a solemn oath to lead
an honest life in future. I believe you are
all truly repentant; and that you may not
be tempted, by distress, to rob or smuggle,
I give you now a handsome sum of money
for your present necessities. Should you
be once more seized for improper conduct,
no event can then save you from the arm
of justice.”

They unanimously swore to observe his
advice, and expressed their warm gratitude
for his mercy and goodness.

Sir Eglamour then conducted them secretly
from the old mansion, by the back-
door, unperceived by the soldiers, or any
other person.

In M11r 261

In the morning their escape was discovered,
but excited little surprise or concern,
as the soldiers considered them merely as
smugglers, and very inferior in guilt to
their comrades who had fled.

No intelligence or circumstance relative
to the six smugglers ever transpired, and it
was conjectured they conducted themselves
afterwards with the strictest integrity, lamenting
their former errors.

The vessel in which lord Treharne embarked
sunk to the bottom (not being able
to resist the raging tempest), on that memorable
night when his guilty mistress
breathed her last. Every soul on board
perished, except one sailor, who had been
engaged to assist in navigating the bark a
short time before it sailed, and was unacquainted
with the character of his employer.
He alone survived, to relate the destruction
of the vessel and those who were
in it—a fate too gentle for a character so
depraved as lord Treharne, who had early
evinced a corrupt selfish disposition, and attained M11v 262
attained the highest ascent of treachery,
cruelty, and unrelenting crime.

He was childless when the storm consigned
him to the unfathomed deep, and
Felix consequently inherited the title of
viscount Treharne, which his uncle had
disgraced. The late lord Treharne’s estates
were so mortgaged and encumbered, that
Felix found himself the noble representative
of an ancient family, without an income
to support his rank. But this inconvenience
was unfelt, as his father came
immediately into possession of the extensive
fortune bequeathed by sir James
Douglas
, which enabled him to bestow sufficient
wealth on Felix to allow his appearing
as a nobleman.

Helen Ramsay, and the hypocritical attorney,
received the condign chastisement
they merited for the conspiracy formed
against general Douglas. In the course of
their examination, it was revealed that even
this plot was planned by lord Treharne and
his corrupt mistress, whose rancour against this flawed-reproduction1 page M12v 264
ness, felt richly rewarded for having endured
adversity with courage and resignation.
To promote the lasting felicity of sir
Eglamour
was her first wish and intention,
by every effort to please him, and secure
his esteem and attachment. He was the
only man who had ever excited her gratitude
and admiration. His disinterested
conduct, when he thought her portionless,
demanded the former sentiment, and his
accomplishments and manly beauty claimed
the latter.

Those beings who had compassionated
her sorrows were not forgotten, and handsomely
recompensed for the feeling they
had evinced. Rose never blushed at the
recollection of having experienced undeserved
indigence and affliction. It was a
superior gratification to her to assist the unfortunate,
whose sufferings she poignantly
commiserated, from having sustained similar
distress.

The splendid gifts of fortune were now
distributed profusely on every individual of N1r 265
of the Douglas family, and empowered
them to obey the dictates of their generous
inclinations.

The earl of Arlberry presented his daughter
with a munificent dowry; and lord and
lady Treharne
passed half the year at the
Castle of Towie Craigs, with general, sir
Felix
, and lady Douglas, where the excellent
and friendly Moncrief frequently joined
the party assembled, and visited England
with them every year.

The virtue and purity of Rose, whose
character, enriched with every excellence,
and captivating charm of manners and conversation,
that could win and strengthen
affection, attached her husband to her with
heightened regard, that never weakened.
Her parents were grateful to Heaven for
giving them a child so truly amiable, and
her friends found a soothing balm in her
friendship, when affliction oppressed, and
the purest felicity, when all their prospects
were smiling. The victims of poverty and
despair her generous charity relieved, while Vol. III. N her N1v 266
her humane attention softened their calamity.

The fraternal love existing between her
brother Felix and herself remained unchanged.
They resided near each other,
and were so frequently together, that they
were like one united happy family.

Kamira, in whose fidelity she had received
the sweetest consolation, when heart-
rending sorrow overwhelmed her with dejection
and grief, resided constantly with
her, nor could she be persuaded to quit her
beloved lady Delavalle, as sir Eglamour
equally respected and esteemed the faithful
Esquimaux. To leave her young mistress,
had she wished it, Kamira was now quite
free, sir Felix Douglas having settled a liberal
income on her, when he received his
brother’s fortune.

With regard to the malignant and subordinate
characters, who maliciously insulted,
and endeavoured to injure the unsuspicious
and unoffending Rose, there can
be no punishment more severe than their miserable N2r 267
miserable minds inflicts. The continual
gnawings of an impure and upbraiding conscience
is excruciating torture. Though
the wicked triumph for a period, and exult
in the success of their villany against the
innocence and virtuous, yet let them remember
that the hour of keen remorse, requital,
and vengeance, will arrive, and their
culpable actions obtain an equitable reward.

Finis.

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

N2v

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