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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Nature and Art, by Mrs Inchbald
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+Title: Nature and Art
+
+Author: Mrs Inchbald
+
+Release Date: February, 2003  [Etext #3787]
+[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule]
+[The actual date this file first posted = 09/05/01]
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+Language: English
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Nature and Art, by Mrs Inchbald
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+
+This etext was produced by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk,
+from the 1886 Cassell & Co. edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+NATURE AND ART
+
+by Mrs. [Elizabeth] Inchbald
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+Elizabeth Simpson was born on the 15th of October, 1753, one of the
+eight children of a poor farmer, at Standingfield, near Bury St.
+Edmunds.  Five of the children were girls, who were all gifted with
+personal beauty.  The family was Roman Catholic.  The mother had a
+delight in visits to the Bury Theatre, and took, when she could, her
+children to the play.  One of her sons became an actor, and her
+daughter Elizabeth offered herself at eighteen--her father then
+being dead--for engagement as an actress at the Norwich Theatre.
+She had an impediment of speech, and she was not engaged; but in the
+following year, leaving behind an affectionate letter to her mother,
+she stole away from Standingfield, and made a bold plunge into the
+unknown world of London, where she had friends, upon whose help she
+relied.  Her friends happened to be in Wales, and she had some
+troubles to go through before she found a home in the house of a
+sister, who had married a poor tailor.  About two months after she
+had left Standingfield she married, in London, Mr. Inchbald, an
+actor, who had paid his addresses to her when she was at home, and
+who was also a Roman Catholic.  On the evening of the wedding day
+the bride, who had not yet succeeded in obtaining an engagement,
+went to the play, and saw the bridegroom play the part of Mr. Oakley
+in the "Jealous Wife."  Mr. Inchbald was thirty-seven years old, and
+had sons by a former marriage.  In September, 1772, Mrs. Inchbald
+tried her fortune on the stage by playing Cordelia to her husband's
+Lear.  Beauty alone could not assure success.  The impediment in
+speech made it impossible for Mrs. Inchbald to succeed greatly as an
+actress.  She was unable to realise her own conceptions.  At times
+she and her husband prospered so little that on one day their dinner
+was of turnips, pulled and eaten in a field, and sometimes there was
+no dinner at all.  But better days presently followed; first
+acquaintance of Mrs. Inchbald with Mrs. Siddons grew to a strong
+friendship, and this extended to the other members of the Kemble
+family.
+
+After seven years of happy but childless marriage, Mrs. Inchbald was
+left a widow at the age of twenty-six.  In after years, when
+devoting herself to the baby of one of her landladies, she wrote to
+a friend,--"I shall never again have patience with a mother who
+complains of anything but the loss of her children; so no complaints
+when you see me again.  Remember, you have had two children, and I
+never had one."  After her husband's death, Mrs. Inchbald's beauty
+surrounded her with admirers, some of them rich, but she did not
+marry again.  To one of those who offered marriage, she replied that
+her temper was so uncertain that nothing but blind affection in a
+husband could bear with it.  Yet she was patiently living and
+fighting the world on a weekly salary of about thirty shillings, out
+of which she helped her poorer sisters.  When acting at Edinburgh
+she spent on herself only eight shillings a week in board and
+lodging.  It was after her husband's death that Mrs. Inchbald
+finished a little novel, called "A Simple Story," but it was not
+until twelve years afterwards that she could get it published.  She
+came to London again, and wrote farces, which she could not get
+accepted; but she obtained an increase of salary to three pounds a
+week by unwillingly consenting not only to act in plays, but also to
+walk in pantomime.  At last, in July, 1784, her first farce, "The
+Mogul Tale," was acted.  It brought her a hundred guineas.  Three
+years later her success as a writer had risen so far that she
+obtained nine hundred pounds by a little piece called "Such Things
+Are."  She still lived sparingly, invested savings, and was liberal
+only to the poor, and chiefly to her sisters and the poor members of
+her family.  She finished a sketch of her life in 1786, for which a
+publisher, without seeing it, offered a thousand pounds.  But there
+was more satirical comment in it than she liked, and she resolved to
+do at once what she would wish done at the point of death.  She
+destroyed the record.
+
+In 1791 Mrs. Inchbald published her "Simple Story."  Her other tale,
+"Nature and Art," followed in 1794, when Mrs. Inchbald's age was
+forty-one.  She had retired from the stage five years before, with
+an income of fifty-eight pounds a year, all she called her own out
+of the independence secured by her savings.  She lived in cheap
+lodgings, and had sometimes to wait altogether on herself; at one
+lodging "fetching up her own water three pair of stairs, and
+dropping a few tears into the heedless stream, as any other wounded
+deer might do."  Later in life, she wrote to a friend from a room in
+which she cooked, and ate, and also her saucepans were cleaned:-
+"Thank God, I can say No.  I say No to all the vanities of the
+world, and perhaps soon shall have to say that I allow my poor
+infirm sister a hundred a year.  I have raised my allowance to
+eighty; but in the rapid stride of her wants, and my obligation as a
+Christian to make no selfish refusal to the poor, a few months, I
+foresee, must make the sum a hundred."  In 1816, when that sister
+died, and Mrs. Inchbald buried the last of her immediate home
+relations--though she had still nephews to find money for--she said
+it had been a consolation to her when sometimes she cried with cold
+to think that her sister, who was less able to bear privation, had
+her fire lighted for her before she rose, and her food brought to
+her ready cooked.
+
+Even at fifty Mrs. Inchbald's beauty of face inspired admiration.
+The beauty of the inner life increased with years.  Lively and quick
+of temper, impulsive, sensitive, she took into her heart all that
+was best in the sentiments associated with the teaching of Rousseau
+and the dreams of the French Revolution.  Mrs. Inchbald spoke her
+mind most fully in this little story, which is told with a dramatic
+sense of construction that swiftly carries on the action to its
+close.  She was no weak sentimentalist, who hung out her feelings to
+view as an idle form of self-indulgence.  Most unselfishly she
+wrought her own life to the pattern in her mind; even the little
+faults she could not conquer, she well knew.
+
+Mrs. Inchbald died at the age of sixty-eight, on the 1st of August,
+1821, a devout Roman Catholic, her thoughts in her last years
+looking habitually through all disguises of convention up to
+Nature's God.
+
+H. M.
+
+
+
+NATURE AND ART.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+
+At a time when the nobility of Britain were said, by the poet
+laureate, to be the admirers and protectors of the arts, and were
+acknowledged by the whole nation to be the patrons of music--William
+and Henry, youths under twenty years of age, brothers, and the sons
+of a country shopkeeper who had lately died insolvent, set out on
+foot for London, in the hope of procuring by their industry a scanty
+subsistence.
+
+As they walked out of their native town, each with a small bundle at
+his back, each observed the other drop several tears:  but, upon the
+sudden meeting of their eyes, they both smiled with a degree of
+disdain at the weakness in which they had been caught.
+
+"I am sure," said William (the elder), "I don't know what makes me
+cry."
+
+"Nor I neither," said Henry; "for though we may never see this town
+again, yet we leave nothing behind us to give us reason to lament."
+
+"No," replied William, "nor anybody who cares what becomes of us."
+
+"But I was thinking," said Henry, now weeping bitterly, "that, if my
+poor father were alive, HE would care what was to become of us:  he
+would not have suffered us to begin this long journey without a few
+more shillings in our pockets."
+
+At the end of this sentence, William, who had with some effort
+suppressed his tears while his brother spoke, now uttered, with a
+voice almost inarticulate,--"Don't say any more; don't talk any more
+about it.  My father used to tell us, that when he was gone we must
+take care of ourselves:  and so we must.  I only wish," continued
+he, giving way to his grief, "that I had never done anything to
+offend him while he was living."
+
+"That is what I wish too," cried Henry.  "If I had always been
+dutiful to him while he was alive, I would not shed one tear for him
+now that he is gone--but I would thank Heaven that he has escaped
+from his creditors."
+
+In conversation such as this, wherein their sorrow for their
+deceased parent seemed less for his death than because he had not
+been so happy when living as they ought to have made him; and
+wherein their own outcast fortune was less the subject of their
+grief, than the reflection what their father would have endured
+could he have beheld them in their present situation;--in
+conversation such as this, they pursued their journey till they
+arrived at that metropolis, which has received for centuries past,
+from the provincial towns, the bold adventurer of every
+denomination; has stamped his character with experience and example;
+and, while it has bestowed on some coronets and mitres--on some the
+lasting fame of genius--to others has dealt beggary, infamy, and
+untimely death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+
+After three weeks passed in London, a year followed, during which
+William and Henry never sat down to a dinner, or went into a bed,
+without hearts glowing with thankfulness to that Providence who had
+bestowed on them such unexpected blessings; for they no longer
+presumed to expect (what still they hoped they deserved) a secure
+pittance in this world of plenty.  Their experience, since they came
+to town, had informed them that to obtain a permanent livelihood is
+the good fortune but of a part of those who are in want of it:  and
+the precarious earning of half-a-crown, or a shilling, in the
+neighbourhood where they lodged, by an errand, or some such
+accidental means, was the sole support which they at present
+enjoyed.
+
+They had sought for constant employment of various kinds, and even
+for servants' places; but obstacles had always occurred to prevent
+their success.  If they applied for the situation of a clerk to a
+man of extensive concerns, their qualifications were admitted; but
+there must be security given for their fidelity;--they had friends,
+who would give them a character, but who would give them nothing
+else.
+
+If they applied for the place even of a menial servant, they were
+too clownish and awkward for the presence of the lady of the house;-
+-and once, when William (who had been educated at the free grammar-
+school of the town in which he was born, and was an excellent
+scholar), hoping to obtain the good opinion of a young clergyman
+whom he solicited for the favour of waiting upon him, said
+submissively, "that he understood Greek and Latin," he was rejected
+by the divine, "because he could not dress hair."
+
+Weary of repeating their mean accomplishments of "honesty, sobriety,
+humility," and on the precipice of reprobating such qualities,--
+which, however beneficial to the soul, gave no hope of preservation
+to the body,--they were prevented from this profanation by the
+fortunate remembrance of one qualification, which Henry, the
+possessor, in all his distress, had never till then called to his
+recollection; but which, as soon as remembered and made known,
+changed the whole prospect of wretchedness placed before the two
+brothers; and they never knew want more.
+
+Reader--Henry could play upon the fiddle.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+
+No sooner was it publicly known that Henry could play most
+enchantingly upon the violin, than he was invited into many
+companies where no other accomplishment could have introduced him.
+His performance was so much admired, that he had the honour of being
+admitted to several tavern feasts, of which he had also the honour
+to partake without partaking of the expense.  He was soon addressed
+by persons of the very first rank and fashion, and was once seen
+walking side by side with a peer.
+
+But yet, in the midst of this powerful occasion for rejoicing,
+Henry, whose heart was particularly affectionate, had one grief
+which eclipsed all the happiness of his new life;--his brother
+William could NOT play on the fiddle! consequently, his brother
+William, with whom he had shared so much ill, could not share in his
+good fortune.
+
+One evening, Henry, coming home from a dinner and concert at the
+Crown and Anchor found William, in a very gloomy and peevish humour,
+poring over the orations of Cicero.  Henry asked him several times
+"how he did," and similar questions, marks of his kind disposition
+towards his beloved brother:  but all his endeavours, he perceived,
+could not soothe or soften the sullen mind of William.  At length,
+taking from his pocket a handful of almonds, and some delicious
+fruit (which he had purloined from the plenteous table, where his
+brother's wants had never been absent from his thoughts), and laying
+them down before him, he exclaimed, with a benevolent smile, "Do,
+William, let me teach you to play upon the violin."
+
+William, full of the great orator whom he was then studying, and
+still more alive to the impossibility that HIS ear, attuned only to
+sense, could ever descend from that elevation, to learn mere sounds-
+-William caught up the tempting presents which Henry had ventured
+his reputation to obtain for him, and threw them all indignantly at
+the donor's head.
+
+Henry felt too powerfully his own superiority of fortune to resent
+this ingratitude:  he patiently picked up the repast, and laying it
+again upon the table, placed by its side a bottle of claret, which
+he held fast by the neck, while he assured his brother that,
+"although he had taken it while the waiter's back was turned, yet it
+might be drank with a safe conscience by them; for he had not
+himself tasted one drop at the feast, on purpose that he might enjoy
+a glass with his brother at home, and without wronging the company
+who had invited him."
+
+The affection Henry expressed as he said this, or the force of a
+bumper of wine, which William had not seen since he left his
+father's house, had such an effect in calming the displeasure he was
+cherishing, that, on his brother offering him the glass, he took it;
+and he deigned even to eat of his present.
+
+Henry, to convince him that he had stinted himself to obtain for him
+this collation, sat down and partook of it.
+
+After a few glasses, he again ventured to say, "Do, brother William,
+let me teach you to play on the violin."
+
+Again his offer was refused, though with less vehemence:  at length
+they both agreed that the attempt could not prosper.
+
+"Then," said Henry, "William, go down to Oxford or to Cambridge.
+There, no doubt, they are as fond of learning as in this gay town
+they are of music.  You know you have as much talent for the one as
+I for the other:  do go to one of our universities, and see what
+dinners, what suppers, and what friends you will find there."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+
+William DID go to one of those seats of learning, and would have
+starved there, but for the affectionate remittances of Henry, who
+shortly became so great a proficient in the art of music, as to have
+it in his power not only to live in a very reputable manner himself,
+but to send such supplies to his brother, as enabled him to pursue
+his studies.
+
+With some, the progress of fortune is rapid.  Such is the case when,
+either on merit or demerit, great patronage is bestowed.  Henry's
+violin had often charmed, to a welcome forgetfulness of his
+insignificance, an effeminate lord; or warmed with ideas of honour
+the head of a duke, whose heart could never be taught to feel its
+manly glow.  Princes had flown to the arms of their favourite fair
+ones with more rapturous delight, softened by the masterly touches
+of his art:  and these elevated personages, ever grateful to those
+from whom they receive benefits, were competitors in the desire of
+heaping favours upon him.  But he, in all his advantages, never once
+lost for a moment the hope of some advantage for his brother
+William:  and when at any time he was pressed by a patron to demand
+a "token of his regard," he would constantly reply--"I have a
+brother, a very learned man, if your lordship (your grace, or your
+royal highness) would confer some small favour on him!"
+
+His lordship would reply, "He was so teased and harassed in his
+youth by learned men, that he had ever since detested the whole
+fraternity."
+
+His grace would inquire, "if the learned man could play upon any
+instrument."
+
+And his highness would ask "if he could sing."
+
+Rebuffs such as these poor Henry met with in all his applications
+for William, till one fortunate evening, at the conclusion of a
+concert, a great man shook him by the hand, and promised a living of
+five hundred a year (the incumbent of which was upon his death-bed)
+to his brother, in return for the entertainment that Henry had just
+afforded him.
+
+Henry wrote in haste to William, and began his letter thus:  "My
+dear brother, I am not sorry you did not learn to play upon the
+fiddle."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+
+The incumbent of this living died--William underwent the customary
+examinations, obtained successively the orders of deacon and priest;
+then as early as possible came to town to take possession of the
+gift which his brother's skill had acquired for him.
+
+William had a steady countenance, a stern brow, and a majestic walk;
+all of which this new accession, this holy calling to religious
+vows, rather increased than diminished.  In the early part of his
+life, the violin of his brother had rather irritated than soothed
+the morose disposition of his nature:  and though, since their
+departure from their native habitation, it had frequently calmed the
+violent ragings of his huger, it had never been successful in
+appeasing the disturbed passions of a proud and disdainful mind.
+
+As the painter views with delight and wonder the finished picture,
+expressive testimony of his taste and genius; as the physician
+beholds with pride and gladness the recovering invalid, whom his art
+has snatched from the jaws of death; as the father gazes with
+rapture on his first child, the creature to whom he has given life;
+so did Henry survey, with transporting glory, his brother, dressed
+for the first time in canonicals, to preach at his parish church.
+He viewed him from head to foot--smiled--viewed again--pulled one
+side of his gown a little this way, one end of his band a little
+that way; then stole behind him, pretending to place the curls of
+his hair, but in reality to indulge and to conceal tears of
+fraternal pride and joy.
+
+William was not without joy, neither was he wanting in love or
+gratitude to his brother; but his pride was not completely
+satisfied.
+
+"I am the elder," thought he to himself, "and a man of literature,
+and yet am I obliged to my younger brother, an illiterate man."
+Here he suppressed every thought which could be a reproach to that
+brother.  But there remained an object of his former contempt, now
+become even detestable to him; ungrateful man.  The very agent of
+his elevation was now so odious to him, that he could not cast his
+eyes upon the friendly violin without instant emotions of disgust.
+
+In vain would Henry, at times, endeavour to subdue his haughtiness
+by a tune on this wonderful machine.  "You know I have no ear,"
+William would sternly say, in recompense for one of Henry's best
+solos.  Yet was William enraged at Henry's answer, when, after
+taking him to hear him preach, he asked him, "how he liked his
+sermon," and Henry modestly replied (in the technical phrase of his
+profession), "You know, brother, I have no ear."
+
+Henry's renown in his profession daily increased; and, with his
+fame, his friends.  Possessing the virtues of humility and charity
+far above William, who was the professed teacher of those virtues,
+his reverend brother's disrespect for his vocation never once made
+him relax for a moment in his anxiety to gain him advancement in the
+Church.  In the course of a few years, and in consequence of many
+fortuitous circumstances, he had the gratification of procuring for
+him the appointment to a deanery; and thus at once placed between
+them an insurmountable barrier to all friendship, that was not the
+effect of condescension on the part of the dean.
+
+William would now begin seriously to remonstrate with his brother
+"upon his useless occupation," and would intimate "the degradation
+it was to him to hear his frivolous talent spoken of in all
+companies."  Henry believed his brother to be much wiser than
+himself, and suffered shame that he was not more worthy of such a
+relation.  To console himself for the familiar friend, whom he now
+perceived he had entirely lost, he searched for one of a softer
+nature--he married.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+
+As Henry despaired of receiving his brother's approbation of his
+choice, he never mentioned the event to him.  But William, being
+told of it by a third person, inquired of Henry, who confirmed the
+truth of the intelligence, and acknowledged, that, in taking a wife,
+his sole view had been to obtain a kind companion and friend, who
+would bear with his failings and know how to esteem his few
+qualifications; therefore, he had chosen one of his own rank in
+life, and who, having a taste for music, and, as well as himself, an
+obligation to the art--"
+
+"And is it possible," cried the dean, "that what has been hinted to
+me is true?  Is it possible that you have married a public singer?"
+
+"She is as good as myself," returned Henry.  "I did not wish her to
+be better, for fear she should despise me."
+
+"As to despise," answered the dean, "Heaven forbid that we should
+despise anyone, that would be acting unlike a Christian; but do you
+imagine I can ever introduce her to my intended wife, who is a woman
+of family?"
+
+Henry had received in his life many insults from his brother; but,
+as he was not a vain man, he generally thought his brother in the
+right, and consequently submitted with patience; but, though he had
+little self-love, he had for his wife an unbounded affection.  On
+the present occasion, therefore, he began to raise his voice, and
+even (in the coarse expression of clownish anger) to lift his hand;
+but the sudden and affecting recollection of what he had done for
+the dean--of the pains, the toils, the hopes, and the fears he had
+experienced when soliciting his preferment--this recollection
+overpowered his speech, weakened his arm, and deprived him of every
+active force, but that of flying out of his brother's house (in
+which they then were) as swift as lightning, while the dean sat
+proudly contemplating "that he had done his duty."
+
+For several days Henry did not call, as was his custom, to see his
+brother.  William's marriage drew near, and he sent a formal card to
+invite him on that day; but not having had the condescension to name
+his sister-in-law in the invitation, Henry thought proper not to
+accept it, and the joyful event was celebrated without his presence.
+But the ardour of the bridegroom was not so vehement as to overcome
+every other sensation--he missed his brother.  That heartfelt
+cheerfulness with which Henry had ever given him joy upon every
+happy occasion--even amidst all the politer congratulations of his
+other friends--seemed to the dean mournfully wanting.  This
+derogation from his felicity he was resolved to resent; and for a
+whole year these brothers, whom adversity had entwined closely
+together, prosperity separated.
+
+Though Henry, on his marriage, paid so much attention to his
+brother's prejudices as to take his wife from her public employment,
+this had not so entirely removed the scruples of William as to
+permit him to think her a worthy companion for Lady Clementina, the
+daughter of a poor Scotch earl, whom he had chosen merely that he
+might be proud of her family, and, in return, suffer that family to
+be ashamed of HIS.
+
+If Henry's wife were not fit company for Lady Clementina, it is to
+be hoped that she was company for angels.  She died within the first
+year of her marriage, a faithful, an affectionate wife, and a
+mother.
+
+When William heard of her death, he felt a sudden shock, and a kind
+of fleeting thought glanced across his mind, that
+
+"Had he known she had been so near her dissolution, she might have
+been introduced to Lady Clementina, and he himself would have called
+her sister."
+
+That is (if he had defined his fleeting idea), "They would have had
+no objection to have met this poor woman for the LAST TIME, and
+would have descended to the familiarity of kindred, in order to have
+wished her a good journey to the other world."
+
+Or, is there in death something which so raises the abjectness of
+the poor, that, on their approach to its sheltering abode, the
+arrogant believer feels the equality he had before denied, and
+trembles?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+
+The wife of Henry had been dead near six weeks before the dean heard
+the news.  A month then elapsed in thoughts by himself, and
+consultations with Lady Clementina, how he should conduct himself on
+this occurrence.  Her advice was,
+
+"That, as Henry was the younger, and by their stations, in every
+sense the dean's inferior, Henry ought first to make overtures of
+reconciliation."
+
+The dean answered, "He had no doubt of his brother's good will to
+him, but that he had reason to think, from the knowledge of his
+temper, he would be more likely to come to him upon an occasion to
+bestow comfort, than to receive it.  For instance, if I had suffered
+the misfortune of losing your ladyship, my brother, I have no doubt,
+would have forgotten his resentment, and--"
+
+She was offended that the loss of the vulgar wife of Henry should be
+compared to the loss of her--she lamented her indiscretion in
+forming an alliance with a family of no rank, and implored the dean
+to wait till his brother should make some concession to him, before
+he renewed the acquaintance.
+
+Though Lady Clementina had mentioned on this occasion her
+INDISCRETION, she was of a prudent age--she was near forty--yet,
+possessing rather a handsome face and person, she would not have
+impressed the spectator with a supposition that she was near so old
+had she not constantly attempted to appear much younger.  Her dress
+was fantastically fashionable, her manners affected all the various
+passions of youth, and her conversation was perpetually embellished
+with accusations against her own "heedlessness, thoughtlessness,
+carelessness, and childishness."
+
+There is, perhaps in each individual, one parent motive to every
+action, good or bad.  Be that as it may, it was evident, that with
+Lady Clementina, all she said or did, all she thought or looked, had
+but one foundation--vanity.  If she were nice, or if she were
+negligent, vanity was the cause of both; for she would contemplate
+with the highest degree of self-complacency, "What such-a-one would
+say of her elegant preciseness, or what such-a-one would think of
+her interesting neglect."
+
+If she complained she was ill, it was with the certainty that her
+languor would be admired:  if she boasted she was well, it was that
+the spectator might admire her glowing health:  if she laughed, it
+was because she thought it made her look pretty:  if she cried, it
+was because she thought it made her look prettier still.  If she
+scolded her servants, it was from vanity, to show her knowledge
+superior to theirs:  and she was kind to them from the same motive,
+that her benevolence might excite their admiration.  Forward and
+impertinent in the company of her equals, from the vanity of
+supposing herself above them, she was bashful even to shamefacedness
+in the presence of her superiors, because her vanity told her she
+engrossed all their observation.  Through vanity she had no memory,
+for she constantly forgot everything she heard others say, from the
+minute attention which she paid to everything she said herself.
+
+She had become an old maid from vanity, believing no offer she
+received worthy of her deserts; and when her power of farther
+conquest began to be doubted, she married from vanity, to repair the
+character of her fading charms.  In a word, her vanity was of that
+magnitude, that she had no conjecture but that she was humble in her
+own opinion; and it would have been impossible to have convinced her
+that she thought well of herself, because she thought so WELL, as to
+be assured that her own thoughts undervalued her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+
+That, which in a weak woman is called vanity, in a man of sense is
+termed pride.  Make one a degree stranger, or the other a degree
+weaker, and the dean and his wife were infected with the self-same
+folly.  Yet, let not the reader suppose that this failing (however
+despicable) had erased from either bosom all traces of humanity.
+They are human creatures who are meant to be portrayed in this
+little book:  and where is the human creature who has not some good
+qualities to soften, if not to counterbalance, his bad ones?
+
+The dean, with all his pride, could not wholly forget his brother,
+nor eradicate from his remembrance the friend that he had been to
+him:  he resolved, therefore, in spite of his wife's advice, to make
+him some overture, which he had no doubt Henry's good-nature would
+instantly accept.  The more he became acquainted with all the vain
+and selfish propensities of Lady Clementina, the more he felt a
+returning affection for his brother:  but little did he suspect how
+much he loved him, till (after sending to various places to inquire
+for him) he learned--that on his wife's decease, unable to support
+her loss in the surrounding scene, Henry had taken the child she
+brought him in his arms, shaken hands with all his former friends--
+passing over his brother in the number--and set sail in a vessel
+bound for Africa, with a party of Portuguese and some few English
+adventurers, to people there the uninhabited part of an extensive
+island.
+
+This was a resolution, in Henry's circumstances, worthy a mind of
+singular sensibility:  but William had not discerned, till then,
+that every act of Henry's was of the same description; and more than
+all, his every act towards him.  He staggered when he heard the
+tidings; at first thought them untrue; but quickly recollected, that
+Henry was capable of surprising deeds!  He recollected with a force
+which gave him torture, the benevolence his brother had ever shown
+to him--the favours he had heaped upon him--the insults he had
+patiently endured in requital!
+
+In the first emotion, which this intelligence gave the dean, he
+forgot the dignity of his walk and gesture:  he ran with frantic
+enthusiasm to every corner of his deanery where the least vestige of
+what belonged to Henry remained--he pressed close to his breast,
+with tender agony, a coat of his, which by accident had been left
+there--he kissed and wept over a walking-stick which Henry once had
+given him--he even took up with delight a music book of his
+brother's--nor would his poor violin have then excited anger.
+
+When his grief became more calm, he sat in deep and melancholy
+meditation, calling to mind when and where he saw his brother last.
+The recollection gave him fresh cause of regret.  He remembered they
+had parted on his refusing to suffer Lady Clementina to admit the
+acquaintance of Henry's wife.  Both Henry and his wife he now
+contemplated beyond the reach of his pride; and he felt the meanness
+of his former and the imbecility of his future haughtiness towards
+them.
+
+To add to his self-reproaches, his tormented memory presented to him
+the exact countenance of his brother at their last interview, as it
+changed, while he censured his marriage, and treated with disrespect
+the object of his conjugal affection.  He remembered the anger
+repressed, the tear bursting forth, and the last glimpse he had of
+him, as he left his presence, most likely for ever.
+
+In vain he now wished that he had followed him to the door--that he
+had once shaken hands and owned his obligations to him before they
+had parted.  In vain he wished too, that, in this extreme agony of
+his mind, he had such a friend to comfort him, as Henry had ever
+proved.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+
+The avocations of an elevated life erase the deepest impressions.
+The dean in a few months recovered from those which his brother's
+departure first made upon him:  and he would now at times even
+condemn, in anger, Henry's having so hastily abandoned him and his
+native country, in resentment, as he conceived, of a few misfortunes
+which his usual fortitude should have taught him to have borne.  Yet
+was he still desirous of his return, and wrote two or three letters
+expressive of his wish, which he anxiously endeavoured should reach
+him.  But many years having elapsed without any intelligence from
+him, and a report having arrived that he, and all the party with
+whom he went, were slain by the savage inhabitants of the island,
+William's despair of seeing his brother again caused the desire to
+diminish; while attention and affection to a still nearer and dearer
+relation than Henry had ever been to him, now chiefly engaged his
+mind.
+
+Lady Clementina had brought him a son, on whom from his infancy, he
+doated--and the boy, in riper years, possessing a handsome person
+and evincing a quickness of parts, gratified the father's darling
+passion, pride, as well as the mother's vanity.
+
+The dean had, beside this child, a domestic comfort highly
+gratifying to his ambition:  the bishop of **** became intimately
+acquainted with him soon after his marriage, and from his daily
+visits had become, as it were, a part of the family.  This was much
+honour to the dean, not only as the bishop was his superior in the
+Church, but was of that part of the bench whose blood is ennobled by
+a race of ancestors, and to which all wisdom on the plebeian side
+crouches in humble respect.
+
+Year after year rolled on in pride and grandeur; the bishop and the
+dean passing their time in attending levees and in talking politics;
+Lady Clementina passing hers in attending routs and in talking of
+HERSELF, till the son arrived at the age of thirteen.
+
+Young William passed HIS time, from morning till night, with persons
+who taught him to walk, to ride, to talk, to think like a man--a
+foolish man, instead of a wise child, as nature designed him to be.
+
+This unfortunate youth was never permitted to have one conception of
+his own--all were taught him--he was never once asked, "What he
+thought;" but men were paid to tell "how to think."  He was taught
+to revere such and such persons, however unworthy of his reverence;
+to believe such and such things, however unworthy of his credit:
+and to act so and so, on such and such occasions, however unworthy
+of his feelings.
+
+Such were the lessons of the tutors assigned him by his father--
+those masters whom his mother gave him did him less mischief; for
+though they distorted his limbs and made his manners effeminate,
+they did not interfere beyond the body.
+
+Mr. Norwynne (the family name of his father, and though but a
+school-boy, he was called Mister) could talk on history, on
+politics, and on religion; surprisingly to all who never listened to
+a parrot or magpie--for he merely repeated what had been told to him
+without one reflection upon the sense or probability of his report.
+He had been praised for his memory; and to continue that praise, he
+was so anxious to retain every sentence he had heard, or he had
+read, that the poor creature had no time for one native idea, but
+could only re-deliver his tutors' lessons to his father, and his
+father's to his tutors.  But, whatever he said or did, was the
+admiration of all who came to the house of the dean, and who knew he
+was an only child.  Indeed, considering the labour that was taken to
+spoil him, he was rather a commendable youth; for, with the pedantic
+folly of his teachers, the blind affection of his father and mother,
+the obsequiousness of the servants, and flattery of the visitors, it
+was some credit to him that he was not an idiot, or a brute--though
+when he imitated the manners of a man, he had something of the
+latter in his appearance; for he would grin and bow to a lady, catch
+her fan in haste when it fell, and hand her to her coach, as
+thoroughly void of all the sentiment which gives grace to such
+tricks, as a monkey.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+
+One morning in winter, just as the dean, his wife, and darling
+child, had finished their breakfast at their house in London, a
+servant brought in a letter to his master, and said "the man waited
+for an answer."
+
+"Who is the man?" cried the dean, with all that terrifying dignity
+with which he never failed to address his inferiors, especially such
+as waited on his person.
+
+The servant replied with a servility of tone equal to the haughty
+one of his master, "he did not know; but that the man looked like a
+sailor, and had a boy with him."
+
+"A begging letter, no doubt," cried Lady Clementina.
+
+"Take it back," said the dean, "and bid him send up word who he is,
+and what is his errand."
+
+The servant went; and returning said, "He comes from on board a
+ship; his captain sent him, and his errand is, he believes, to leave
+a boy he has brought with him."
+
+"A boy!" cried the dean:  "what have I to do with a boy?  I expect
+no boy.  What boy?  What age?"
+
+"He looks about twelve or thirteen," replied the servant.
+
+"He is mistaken in the house," said the dean.  "Let me look at the
+letter again."
+
+He did look at it, and saw plainly it was directed to himself.  Upon
+a second glance, he had so perfect a recollection of the hand, as to
+open it instantaneously; and, after ordering the servant to
+withdraw, he read the following:-
+
+
+"ZOCOTORA ISLAND, April 6.
+
+"My Dear Brother William,--It is a long time since we have seen one
+another; but I hope not so long, that you have quite forgotten the
+many happy days we once passed together.
+
+"I did not take my leave of you when I left England, because it
+would have been too much for me.  I had met with a great many
+sorrows just at that time; one of which was, the misfortune of
+losing the use of my right hand by a fall from my horse, which
+accident robbed me of most of my friends; for I could no longer
+entertain them with my performance as I used to do, and so I was
+ashamed to see them or you; and that was the reason I came hither to
+try my fortune with some other adventurers.
+
+"You have, I suppose, heard that the savages of the island put our
+whole party to death.  But it was my chance to escape their cruelty.
+I was heart-broken for my comrades; yet upon the whole, I do not
+know that the savages were much to blame--we had no business to
+invade their territories! and if they had invaded England, we should
+have done the same by them.  My life was spared, because, having
+gained some little strength in my hand during the voyage, I pleased
+their king when I arrived there with playing on my violin.
+
+"They spared my child too, in pity to my lamentations, when they
+were going to put him to death.  Now, dear brother, before I say any
+more to you concerning my child, I will first ask your pardon for
+any offence I may have ever given you in all the time we lived so
+long together.  I know you have often found fault with me, and I
+dare say I have been very often to blame; but I here solemnly
+declare that I never did anything purposely to offend you, but
+mostly, all I could to oblige you--and I can safely declare that I
+never bore you above a quarter of an hour's resentment for anything
+you might say to me which I thought harsh.
+
+"Now, dear William, after being in this island eleven years, the
+weakness in my hand has unfortunately returned; and yet there being
+no appearance of complaint, the uninformed islanders think it is all
+my obstinacy, and that I WILL NOT entertain them with my music,
+which makes me say that I CANNOT; and they have imprisoned me, and
+threaten to put my son to death if I persist in my stubbornness any
+longer.
+
+"The anguish I feel in my mind takes away all hope of the recovery
+of strength in my hand; and I have no doubt but that they intend in
+a few days to put their horrid threat into execution.
+
+"Therefore, dear brother William, hearing in my prison of a most
+uncommon circumstance, which is, that an English vessel is lying at
+a small distance from the island, I have entrusted a faithful negro
+to take my child to the ship, and deliver him to the captain, with a
+request that he may be sent (with this letter) to you on the ship's
+arrival in England.
+
+"Now my dear, dear brother William, in case the poor boy should live
+to come to you, I have no doubt but you will receive him; yet excuse
+a poor, fond father, if I say a word or two which I hope may prove
+in his favour.
+
+"Pray, my dear brother, do not think it the child's fault, but mine,
+that you will find him so ignorant--he has always shown a quickness
+and a willingness to learn, and would, I dare say, if he had been
+brought up under your care, have been by this time a good scholar,
+but you know I am no scholar myself.  Besides, not having any books
+here, I have only been able to teach my child by talking to him, and
+in all my conversations with him I have never taken much pains to
+instruct him in the manners of my own country; thinking, that if
+ever he went over, he would learn them soon enough; and if he never
+DID go over, that it would be as well he knew nothing about them.
+
+"I have kept him also from the knowledge of everything which I have
+thought pernicious in the conduct of the savages, except that I have
+now and then pointed out a few of their faults, in order to give him
+a true conception and a proper horror of them.  At the same time I
+have taught him to love, and to do good to his neighbour, whoever
+that neighbour may be, and whatever may be his failings.  Falsehood
+of every kind I included in this precept as forbidden, for no one
+can love his neighbour and deceive him.
+
+"I have instructed him too, to hold in contempt all frivolous
+vanity, and all those indulgences which he was never likely to
+obtain.  He has learnt all that I have undertaken to teach him; but
+I am afraid you will yet think he has learned too little.
+
+"Your wife, I fear, will be offended at his want of politeness, and
+perhaps proper respect for a person of her rank:  but indeed he is
+very tractable, and can, without severity, be amended of all his
+faults; and though you will find he has many, yet, pray, my dear
+brother William, call to mind he has been a dutiful and an
+affectionate child to me; and that had it pleased Heaven we had
+lived together for many years to come, I verily believe I should
+never have experienced one mark of his disobedience.
+
+"Farewell for ever, my dear, dear brother William--and if my poor,
+kind, affectionate child should live to bring you this letter,
+sometimes speak to him of me and let him know, that for twelve years
+he was my sole comfort; and that, when I sent him from me, in order
+to save his life, I laid down my head upon the floor of the cell in
+which I was confined, and prayed that Heaven might end my days
+before the morning."
+
+* * *
+
+This was the conclusion of the letter, except four or five lines
+which (with his name) were so much blotted, apparently with tears,
+that they were illegible.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+
+While the dean was reading to himself this letter, his countenance
+frequently changed, and once or twice the tears streamed from his
+eyes.  When it was finished, he exclaimed,
+
+"My brother has sent his child to me, and I will be a parent to
+him."  He was rushing towards the door, when Lady Clementina stopped
+him.
+
+"Is it proper, do you think, Mr. Dean, that all the servants in the
+house should be witnesses to your meeting with your brother and your
+nephew in the state in which they must be at present?  Send for them
+into a private apartment."
+
+"My brother!" cried the dean; "oh! that it WERE my brother!  The man
+is merely a person from the ship, who has conducted his child
+hither."
+
+The bell was rung, money was sent to the man, and orders given that
+the boy should be shown up immediately.
+
+While young Henry was walking up the stairs, the dean's wife was
+weighing in her mind in what manner it would most redound to her
+honour to receive him; for her vanity taught her to believe that the
+whole inquisitive world pried into her conduct, even upon every
+family occurrence.
+
+Young William was wondering to himself what kind of an unpolished
+monster his beggarly cousin would appear; and was contemplating how
+much the poor youth would be surprised, and awed by his superiority.
+
+The dean felt no other sensation than an impatient desire of
+beholding the child.
+
+The door opened--and the son of his brother Henry, of his
+benefactor, entered.
+
+The habit he had on when he left his father, having been of slight
+texture, was worn out by the length of the voyage, and he was in the
+dress of a sailor-boy.  Though about the same age with his cousin,
+he was something taller:  and though a strong family resemblance
+appeared between the two youths, he was handsomer than William; and
+from a simplicity spread over his countenance, a quick impatience in
+his eye--which denoted anxious curiosity, and childish surprise at
+every new object which presented itself--he appeared younger than
+his well-informed and well-bred cousin.
+
+He walked into the room, not with a dictated obeisance, but with a
+hurrying step, a half pleased, yet a half frightened look, an
+instantaneous survey of every person present; not as demanding "what
+they thought of him," but expressing almost as plainly as in direct
+words, "what he thought of them."  For all alarm in respect to his
+safety and reception seemed now wholly forgotten, in the curiosity
+which the sudden sight of strangers such as he had never seen in his
+life before, excited:  and as to HIMSELF, he did not appear to know
+there was such a person existing:  his whole faculties were absorbed
+in OTHERS.
+
+The dean's reception of him did honour to his sensibility and his
+gratitude to his brother.  After the first affectionate gaze, he ran
+to him, took him in his arms, sat down, drew him to him, held him
+between his knees, and repeatedly exclaimed, "I will repay to you
+all I owe to your father."
+
+The boy, in return, hugged the dean round the neck, kissed him, and
+exclaimed,
+
+"Oh! you ARE my father--you have just such eyes, and such a
+forehead--indeed you would be almost the same as he, if it were not
+for that great white thing which grows upon your head!"
+
+Let the reader understand, that the dean, fondly attached to every
+ornament of his dignified function, was never seen (unless caught in
+bed) without an enormous wig.  With this young Henry was enormously
+struck; having never seen so unbecoming a decoration, either in the
+savage island from whence he came, or on board the vessel in which
+he sailed.
+
+"Do you imagine," cried his uncle, laying his hand gently on the
+reverend habiliment, "that this grows?"
+
+"What is on MY head grows," said young Henry, "and so does that
+which is upon my father's."
+
+"But now you are come to Europe, Henry, you will see many persons
+with such things as these, which they put on and take off."
+
+"Why do you wear such things?"
+
+"As a distinction between us and inferior people:  they are worn to
+give an importance to the wearer."
+
+"That's just as the savages do; they hang brass nails, wire,
+buttons, and entrails of beasts all over them, to give them
+importance."
+
+The dean now led his nephew to Lady Clementina, and told him, "She
+was his aunt, to whom he must behave with the utmost respect."
+
+"I will, I will," he replied, "for she, I see, is a person of
+importance too; she has, very nearly, such a white thing upon her
+head as you have!"
+
+His aunt had not yet fixed in what manner it would be advisable to
+behave; whether with intimidating grandeur, or with amiable
+tenderness.  While she was hesitating between both, she felt a kind
+of jealous apprehension that her son was not so engaging either in
+his person or address as his cousin; and therefore she said,
+
+"I hope, Dean, the arrival of this child will give you a still
+higher sense of the happiness we enjoy in our own.  What an
+instructive contrast between the manners of the one and of the
+other!"
+
+"It is not the child's fault," returned the dean, "that he is not so
+elegant in his manners as his cousin.  Had William been bred in the
+same place, he would have been as unpolished as this boy."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said young William with a formal bow and a
+sarcastic smile, "I assure you several of my tutors have told me,
+that I appear to know many things as it were by instinct."
+
+Young Henry fixed his eyes upon his cousin, while, with steady self-
+complacency, he delivered this speech, and no sooner was it
+concluded than Henry cried out in a kind of wonder,
+
+"A little man! as I am alive, a little man!  I did not know there
+were such little men in this country!  I never saw one in my life
+before!"
+
+"This is a boy," said the dean; "a boy not older than yourself."
+
+He put their hands together, and William gravely shook hands with
+his cousin.
+
+"It IS a man," continued young Henry; then stroked his cousin's
+chin.  "No, no, I do not know whether it is or not."
+
+"I tell you again," said the dean, "he is a boy of your own age; you
+and he are cousins, for I am his father."
+
+"How can that be?" said young Henry.  "He called you SIR."
+
+"In this country," said the dean, "polite children do not call their
+parents FATHER and MOTHER."
+
+"Then don't they sometimes forget to love them as such?" asked
+Henry.
+
+His uncle became now impatient to interrogate him in every
+particular concerning his father's state.  Lady Clementina felt
+equal impatience to know where the father was, whether he were
+coming to live with them, wanted anything of them, and every
+circumstance in which her vanity was interested.  Explanations
+followed all these questions; but which, exactly agreeing with what
+the elder Henry's letter has related, require no recital here.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+
+That vanity which presided over every thought and deed of Lady
+Clementina was the protector of young Henry within her house.  It
+represented to her how amiable her conduct would appear in the eye
+of the world should she condescend to treat this destitute nephew as
+her own son; what envy such heroic virtue would excite in the hearts
+of her particular friends, and what grief in the bosoms of all those
+who did not like her.
+
+The dean was a man of no inconsiderable penetration.  He understood
+the thoughts which, upon this occasion, passed in the mind of his
+wife, and in order to ensure her kind treatment of the boy, instead
+of reproaching her for the cold manner in which she had at first
+received him, he praised her tender and sympathetic heart for having
+shown him so much kindness, and thus stimulated her vanity to be
+praised still more.
+
+William, the mother's own son, far from apprehending a rival in this
+savage boy, was convinced of his own pre-eminence, and felt an
+affection for him--though rather as a foil than as a cousin.  He
+sported with his ignorance upon all occasions, and even lay in wait
+for circumstances that might expose it; while young Henry, strongly
+impressed with everything which appeared new to him, expressed,
+without reserve, the sensations which those novelties excited,
+wholly careless of the construction put on his observations.
+
+He never appeared either offended or abashed when laughed at; but
+still pursued his questions, and still discovered his wonder at many
+replies made to him, though "simpleton," "poor silly boy," and
+"idiot," were vociferated around him from his cousin, his aunt, and
+their constant visitor the bishop.
+
+His uncle would frequently undertake to instruct him; so indeed
+would the bishop; but Lady Clementina, her son, and the greatest
+part of her companions, found something so irresistibly ridiculous
+in his remarks, that nothing but immoderate laughter followed; they
+thought such folly had even merit in the way of entertainment, and
+they wished him no wiser.
+
+Having been told that every morning, on first seeing his uncle, he
+was to make a respectful bow; and coming into the dean's dressing-
+room just as he was out of bed, his wig lying on the table, Henry
+appeared at a loss which of the two he should bow to.  At last he
+gave the preference to his uncle, but afterwards bowed reverently to
+the wig.  In this he did what he conceived was proper, from the
+introduction which the dean, on his first arrival, had given him to
+this venerable stranger; for, in reality, Henry had a contempt for
+all finery, and had called even his aunt's jewels, when they were
+first shown to him, "trumpery," asking "what they were good for?"
+But being corrected in this disrespect, and informed of their high
+value, he, like a good convert, gave up his reason to his faith; and
+becoming, like all converts, over-zealous, he now believed there was
+great worth in all gaudy appearances, and even respected the
+earrings of Lady Clementina almost as much as he respected herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+
+It was to be lamented that when young Henry had been several months
+in England, had been taught to read, and had, of course, in the
+society in which he lived, seen much of the enlightened world, yet
+the natural expectation of his improvement was by no means answered.
+
+Notwithstanding the sensibility, which upon various occasions he
+manifested in the most captivating degree, notwithstanding the
+seeming gentleness of his nature upon all occasions, there now
+appeared, in most of his inquiries and remarks, a something which
+demonstrated either a stupid or troublesome disposition; either
+dulness of conception, or an obstinacy of perseverance in comments
+and in arguments which were glaringly false.
+
+Observing his uncle one day offended with his coachman, and hearing
+him say to him in a very angry tone,
+
+"You shall never drive me again" -
+
+The moment the man quitted the room, Henry (with his eyes fixed in
+the deepest contemplation) repeated five or six times, in a half
+whisper to himself,
+
+"YOU SHALL NEVER DRIVE ME AGAIN."
+
+"YOU SHALL NEVER DRIVE ME AGAIN."
+
+The dean at last called to him.  "What do you mean by thus repeating
+my words?"
+
+"I am trying to find out what YOU meant," said Henry.
+
+"What don't you know?" cried his enlightened cousin.  "Richard is
+turned away; he is never to get upon our coach-box again, never to
+drive any of us more."
+
+"And was it pleasure to drive us, cousin?  I am sure I have often
+pitied him.  It rained sometimes very hard when he was on the box;
+and sometimes Lady Clementina has kept him a whole hour at the door
+all in the cold and snow.  Was that pleasure?"
+
+"No," replied young William.
+
+"Was it honour, cousin?"
+
+"No," exclaimed his cousin with a contemptuous smile.
+
+"Then why did my uncle say to him, as a punishment, 'he should
+never'" -
+
+"Come hither, child," said the dean, "and let me instruct you; your
+father's negligence has been inexcusable.  There are in society,"
+continued the dean, "rich and poor; the poor are born to serve the
+rich."
+
+"And what are the rich born for?"
+
+"To be served by the poor."
+
+"But suppose the poor would not serve them?"
+
+"Then they must starve."
+
+"And so poor people are permitted to live only upon condition that
+they wait upon the rich?"
+
+"Is that a hard condition; or if it were, they will be rewarded in a
+better world than this?"
+
+"Is there a better world than this?"
+
+"Is it possible you do not know there is?"
+
+"I heard my father once say something about a world to come; but he
+stopped short, and said I was too young to understand what he
+meant."
+
+"The world to come," returned the dean, "is where we shall go after
+death; and there no distinction will be made between rich and poor--
+all persons there will be equal."
+
+"Aye, now I see what makes it a better world than this.  But cannot
+this world try to be as good as that?"
+
+"In respect to placing all persons on a level, it is utterly
+impossible.  God has ordained it otherwise."
+
+"How! has God ordained a distinction to be made, and will not make
+any Himself?"
+
+The dean did not proceed in his instructions.  He now began to think
+his brother in the right, and that the boy was too young, or too
+weak, to comprehend the subject.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+
+In addition to his ignorant conversation upon many topics, young
+Henry had an incorrigible misconception and misapplication of many
+WORDS.  His father having had but few opportunities of discoursing
+with him, upon account of his attendance at the court of the
+savages, and not having books in the island, he had consequently
+many words to learn of this country's language when he arrived in
+England.  This task his retentive memory made easy to him; but his
+childish inattention to their proper signification still made his
+want of education conspicuous.
+
+He would call COMPLIMENTS, LIES; RESERVE, he would call PRIDE;
+STATELINESS, AFFECTATION; and for the words WAR and BATTLE, he
+constantly substituted the word MASSACRE.
+
+"Sir," said William to his father one morning, as he entered the
+room, "do you hear how the cannons are firing, and the bells
+ringing?"
+
+"Then I dare say," cried Henry, "there has been another massacre."
+
+The dean called to him in anger, "Will you never learn the right use
+of words?  You mean to say a battle."
+
+"Then what is a massacre?" cried the frightened, but still curious
+Henry.
+
+"A massacre," replied his uncle, "is when a number of people are
+slain--"
+
+"I thought," returned Henry, "soldiers had been people!"
+
+"You interrupted me," said the dean, "before I finished my sentence.
+Certainly, both soldiers and sailors are people, but they engage to
+die by their own free will and consent."
+
+"What! all of them?"
+
+"Most of them."
+
+"But the rest are massacred?"
+
+The dean answered, "The number who go to battle unwillingly, and by
+force, are few; and for the others, they have previously sold their
+lives to the state."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For soldiers' and sailors' pay."
+
+"My father used to tell me, we must not take away our own lives; but
+he forgot to tell me we might sell them for others to take away."
+
+"William," said the dean to his son, his patience tired with his
+nephew's persevering nonsense, "explain to your cousin the
+difference between a battle and a massacre."
+
+"A massacre," said William, rising from his seat, and fixing his
+eyes alternately upon his father, his mother, and the bishop (all of
+whom were present) for their approbation, rather than the person's
+to whom his instructions were to be addressed--"a massacre," said
+William, "is when human beings are slain, who have it not in their
+power to defend themselves."
+
+"Dear cousin William," said Henry, "that must ever be the case with
+every one who is killed."
+
+After a short hesitation, William replied:  "In massacres people are
+put to death for no crime, but merely because they are objects of
+suspicion."
+
+"But in battle," said Henry, "the persons put to death are not even
+suspected."
+
+The bishop now condescended to end this disputation by saying
+emphatically,
+
+"Consider, young savage, that in battle neither the infant, the
+aged, the sick, nor infirm are involved, but only those in the full
+prime of health and vigour."
+
+As this argument came from so great and reverend a man as the
+bishop, Henry was obliged, by a frown from his uncle, to submit, as
+one refuted; although he had an answer at the veriest tip of his
+tongue, which it was torture to him not to utter.  What he wished to
+say must ever remain a secret.  The church has its terrors as well
+as the law; and Henry was awed by the dean's tremendous wig as much
+as Paternoster Row is awed by the Attorney-General.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+
+If the dean had loved his wife but moderately, seeing all her faults
+clearly as he did, he must frequently have quarrelled with her:  if
+he had loved her with tenderness, he must have treated her with a
+degree of violence in the hope of amending her failings.  But having
+neither personal nor mental affection towards her sufficiently
+interesting to give himself the trouble to contradict her will in
+anything, he passed for one of the best husbands in the world.  Lady
+Clementina went out when she liked, stayed at home when she liked,
+dressed as she liked, and talked as she liked without a word of
+disapprobation from her husband, and all--because he cared nothing
+about her.
+
+Her vanity attributed this indulgence to inordinate affection; and
+observers in general thought her happier in her marriage than the
+beloved wife who bathes her pillow with tears by the side of an
+angry husband, whose affection is so excessive that he unkindly
+upbraids her because she is--less than perfection.
+
+The dean's wife was not so dispassionately considered by some of his
+acquaintance as by himself; for they would now and then hint at her
+foibles:  but this great liberty she also conceived to be the effect
+of most violent love, or most violent admiration:  and such would
+have been her construction had they commended her follies--had they
+totally slighted, or had they beaten her.
+
+Amongst those acquaintances, the aforesaid bishop, by far the most
+frequent visitor, did not come merely to lounge an idle hour, but he
+had a more powerful motive; the desire of fame, and dread of being
+thought a man receiving large emolument for unimportant service.
+
+The dean, if he did not procure him the renown he wished, still
+preserved him from the apprehended censure.
+
+The elder William was to his negligent or ignorant superiors in the
+church such as an apt boy at school is to the rich dunces--William
+performed the prelates' tasks for them, and they rewarded him--not
+indeed with toys or money, but with their countenance, their
+company, their praise.  And scarcely was there a sermon preached
+from the patrician part of the bench, in which the dean did not
+fashion some periods, blot out some uncouth phrases, render some
+obscure sentiments intelligible, and was the certain person, when
+the work was printed, to correct the press.
+
+This honourable and right reverend bishop delighted in printing and
+publishing his works; or rather the entire works of the dean, which
+passed for his:  and so degradingly did William, the shopkeeper's
+son, think of his own homiest extraction, that he was blinded, even
+to the loss of honour, by the lustre of this noble acquaintance;
+for, though in other respects he was a man of integrity, yet, when
+the gratification of his friend was in question, he was a liar; he
+not only disowned his giving him aid in any of his publications, but
+he never published anything in his own name without declaring to the
+world "that he had been obliged for several hints on the subject,
+for many of the most judicious corrections, and for those passages
+in page so and so (naming the most eloquent parts of the work) to
+his noble and learned friend the bishop."
+
+The dean's wife being a fine lady--while her husband and his friend
+pored over books or their own manuscripts at home, she ran from
+house to house, from public amusement to public amusement; but much
+less for the pleasure of SEEING than for that of being seen.  Nor
+was it material to her enjoyment whether she were observed, or
+welcomed, where she went, as she never entertained the smallest
+doubt of either; but rested assured that her presence roused
+curiosity and dispensed gladness all around.
+
+One morning she went forth to pay her visits, all smiles, such as
+she thought captivating:  she returned, all tears, such as she
+thought no less endearing.
+
+Three ladies accompanied her home, entreating her to be patient
+under a misfortune to which even kings are liable:  namely,
+defamation.
+
+Young Henry, struck with compassion at grief of which he knew not
+the cause, begged to know "what was the matter?"
+
+"Inhuman monsters, to treat a woman thus!" cried his aunt in a fury,
+casting the corner of her eye into a looking-glass, to see how rage
+became her.
+
+"But, comfort yourself," said one of her companions:  "few people
+will believe you merit the charge."
+
+"But few! if only one believe it, I shall call my reputation lost,
+and I will shut myself up in some lonely hut, and for ever renounce
+all that is dear to me!"
+
+"What! all your fine clothes?" said Henry, in amazement.
+
+"Of what importance will my best dresses be, when nobody would see
+them?"
+
+"You would see them yourself, dear aunt; and I am sure nobody
+admires them more."
+
+"Now you speak of that," said she, "I do not think this gown I have
+on becoming--I am sure I look--"
+
+The dean, with the bishop (to whom he had been reading a treatise
+just going to the press, which was to be published in the name of
+the latter, though written by the former), now entered, to inquire
+why they had been sent for in such haste.
+
+"Oh, Dean! oh, my Lord Bishop!" she cried, resuming that grief which
+the thoughts of her dress had for a time dispelled--"My reputation
+is destroyed--a public print has accused me of playing deep at my
+own house, and winning all the money."
+
+"The world will never reform," said the bishop:  "all our labour, my
+friend, is thrown away."
+
+"But is it possible," cried the dean, "that any one has dared to say
+this of you?"
+
+"Here it is in print," said she, holding out a newspaper.
+
+The dean read the paragraph, and then exclaimed, "I can forgive a
+falsehood SPOKEN--the warmth of conversation may excuse it--but to
+WRITE and PRINT an untruth is unpardonable, and I will prosecute
+this publisher."
+
+"Still the falsehood will go down to posterity," said Lady
+Clementina; "and after ages will think I was a gambler."
+
+"Comfort yourself, dear madam," said young Henry, wishing to console
+her:  "perhaps after ages may not hear of you; nor even the present
+age think much about you."
+
+The bishop now exclaimed, after having taken the paper from the
+dean, and read the paragraph, "It is a libel, a rank libel, and the
+author must be punished."
+
+"Not only the author, but the publisher," said the dean.
+
+"Not only the publisher, but the printer," continued the bishop.
+
+"And must my name be bandied about by lawyers in a common court of
+justice?" cried Lady Clementina.  "How shocking to my delicacy!"
+
+"My lord, it is a pity we cannot try them by the ecclesiastical
+court," said the dean, with a sigh.
+
+"Or by the India delinquent bill," said the bishop, with vexation.
+
+"So totally innocent as I am!" she vociferated with sobs.  "Every
+one knows I never touch a card at home, and this libel charges me
+with playing at my own house; and though, whenever I do play, I own
+I am apt to win, yet it is merely for my amusement."
+
+"Win or not win, play or not play," exclaimed both the churchmen,
+"this is a libel--no doubt, no doubt, a libel."
+
+Poor Henry's confined knowledge of his native language tormented him
+so much with curiosity upon this occasion, that he went softly up to
+his uncle, and asked him in a whisper, "What is the meaning of the
+word libel?"
+
+"A libel," replied the dean, in a raised voice, "is that which one
+person publishes to the injury of another."
+
+"And what can the injured person do," asked Henry, "if the
+accusation should chance to be true?"
+
+"Prosecute," replied the dean.
+
+"But, then, what does he do if the accusation be false?"
+
+"Prosecute likewise," answered the dean.
+
+"How, uncle! is it possible that the innocent behave just like the
+guilty?"
+
+"There is no other way to act."
+
+"Why, then, if I were the innocent, I would do nothing at all sooner
+than I would act like the guilty.  I would not persecute--"
+
+"I said PROSECUTE," cried the dean in anger.  "Leave the room; you
+have no comprehension."
+
+"Oh, yes, now I understand the difference of the two words; but they
+sound so much alike, I did not at first observe the distinction.
+You said, 'the innocent prosecute, but the GUILTY PERSECUTE.'"  He
+bowed (convinced as he thought) and left the room.
+
+After this modern star-chamber, which was left sitting, had agreed
+on its mode of vengeance, and the writer of the libel was made
+acquainted with his danger, he waited, in all humility, upon Lady
+Clementina, and assured her, with every appearance of sincerity,
+
+"That she was not the person alluded to by the paragraph in
+question, but that the initials which she had conceived to mark out
+her name, were, in fact, meant to point out Lady Catherine Newland."
+
+"But, sir," cried Lady Clementina, "what could induce you to write
+such a paragraph upon Lady Catherine?  She NEVER plays."
+
+"We know that, madam, or we dared not to have attacked her.  Though
+we must circulate libels, madam, to gratify our numerous readers,
+yet no people are more in fear of prosecutions than authors and
+editors; therefore, unless we are deceived in our information, we
+always take care to libel the innocent--we apprehend nothing from
+them--their own characters support them--but the guilty are very
+tenacious; and what they cannot secure by fair means, they will
+employ force to accomplish.  Dear madam, be assured I have too much
+regard for a wife and seven small children, who are maintained by my
+industry alone, to have written anything in the nature of a libel
+upon your ladyship."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+
+About this period the dean had just published a pamphlet in his own
+name, and in which that of his friend the bishop was only mentioned
+with thanks for hints, observations, and condescending encouragement
+to the author.
+
+This pamphlet glowed with the dean's love for his country; and such
+a country as he described, it was impossible NOT to love.
+"Salubrious air, fertile fields, wood, water, corn, grass, sheep,
+oxen, fish, fowl, fruit, and vegetables," were dispersed with the
+most prodigal hand; "valiant men, virtuous women; statesmen wise and
+just; tradesmen abounding in merchandise and money; husbandmen
+possessing peace, ease, plenty; and all ranks liberty."  This
+brilliant description, while the dean read the work to his family,
+so charmed poor Henry, that he repeatedly cried out,
+
+"I am glad I came to this country."
+
+But it so happened that a few days after, Lady Clementina, in order
+to render the delicacy of her taste admired, could eat of no one
+dish upon the table, but found fault with them all.  The dean at
+length said to her,
+
+"Indeed, you are too nice; reflect upon the hundreds of poor
+creatures who have not a morsel or a drop of anything to subsist
+upon, except bread and water; and even of the first a scanty
+allowance, but for which they are obliged to toil six days in the
+week, from sun to sun."
+
+"Pray, uncle," cried Henry, "in what country do these poor people
+live?"
+
+"In this country," replied the dean.
+
+Henry rose from his chair, ran to the chimney-piece, took up his
+uncle's pamphlet, and said, "I don't remember your mentioning them
+here."
+
+"Perhaps I have not," answered the dean, coolly.
+
+Still Henry turned over each leaf of the book, but he could meet
+only with luxurious details of "the fruits of the earth, the beasts
+of the field, the birds of the air, and the fishes of the sea."
+
+"Why, here is provision enough for all the people," said Henry; "why
+should they want? why do not they go and take some of these things?"
+
+"They must not," said the dean, "unless they were their own."
+
+"What, uncle! does no part of the earth, nor anything which the
+earth produces, belong to the poor?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Why did not you say so, then, in your pamphlet?"
+
+"Because it is what everybody knows."
+
+"Oh, then, what you have said in your pamphlet is only what--nobody
+knows."
+
+There appeared to the dean, in the delivery of this sentence, a
+satirical acrimony, which his irritability as an author could but
+ill forgive.
+
+An author, it is said, has more acute feelings in respect to his
+works than any artist in the world besides.
+
+Henry had some cause, on the present occasion, to think this
+observation just; for no sooner had he spoken the foregoing words,
+than his uncle took him by the hand out of the room, and, leading
+him to his study, there he enumerated his various faults; and having
+told him "it was for all those, too long permitted with impunity,
+and not merely for the PRESENT impertinence, that he meant to punish
+him," ordered him to close confinement in his chamber for a week.
+
+In the meantime, the dean's pamphlet (less hurt by Henry's critique
+than HE had been) was proceeding to the tenth edition, and the
+author acquiring literary reputation beyond what he had ever
+conferred on his friend the bishop.
+
+The style, the energy, the eloquence of the work was echoed by every
+reader who could afford to buy it--some few enlightened ones
+excepted, who chiefly admired the author's INVENTION.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+
+The dean, in the good humour which the rapid sale of his book
+produced, once more took his nephew to his bosom; and although the
+ignorance of young Henry upon the late occasions had offended him
+very highly, yet that self-same ignorance, evinced a short time
+after upon a different subject, struck his uncle as productive of a
+most rare and exalted virtue.
+
+Henry had frequently, in his conversation, betrayed the total want
+of all knowledge in respect to religion or futurity, and the dean
+for this reason delayed taking him to church, till he had previously
+given him instructions WHEREFORE he went.
+
+A leisure morning arrived, on which he took his nephew to his study,
+and implanted in his youthful mind the first unconfused idea of the
+Creator of the universe!
+
+The dean was eloquent, Henry was all attention; his understanding,
+expanded by time to the conception of a God--and not warped by
+custom from the sensations which a just notion of that God inspires-
+-dwelt with delight and wonder on the information given him--lessons
+which, instilled into the head of a senseless infant, too often
+produce, throughout his remaining life, an impious indifference to
+the truths revealed.
+
+Yet, with all that astonished, that respectful sensibility which
+Henry showed on this great occasion, he still expressed his opinion,
+and put questions to the dean, with his usual simplicity, till he
+felt himself convinced.
+
+"What!" cried he--after being informed of the attributes inseparable
+from the Supreme Being, and having received the injunction to offer
+prayers to Him night and morning--"What! am I permitted to speak to
+Power Divine?"
+
+"At all times," replied the dean.
+
+"How! whenever I like?"
+
+"Whenever you like," returned the dean.
+
+"I durst not," cried Henry, "make so free with the bishop, nor dare
+any of his attendants."
+
+"The bishop," said the dean, "is the servant of God, and therefore
+must be treated with respect."
+
+"With more respect than his Master?" asked Henry.
+
+The dean not replying immediately to this question, Henry, in the
+rapidity of inquiry, ran on to another:-
+
+"But what am I to say when I speak to the Almighty?"
+
+"First, thank Him for the favours He has bestowed on you."
+
+"What favours?"
+
+"You amaze me," cried the dean, "by your question.  Do not you live
+in ease, in plenty, and happiness?"
+
+"And do the poor and the unhappy thank Him too, uncle?"
+
+"No doubt; every human being glorifies Him, for having been made a
+rational creature."
+
+"And does my aunt and all her card-parties glorify Him for that?"
+
+The dean again made no reply, and Henry went on to other questions,
+till his uncle had fully instructed him as to the nature and the
+form of PRAYER; and now, putting into his hands a book, he pointed
+out to him a few short prayers, which he wished him to address to
+Heaven in his presence.
+
+Whilst Henry bent his knees, as his uncle had directed, he trembled,
+turned pale, and held, for a slight support, on the chair placed
+before him.
+
+His uncle went to him, and asked him "What was the matter."
+
+"Oh!" cried Henry, "when I first came to your door with my poor
+father's letter, I shook for fear you would not look upon me; and I
+cannot help feeling even more now than I did then."
+
+The dean embraced him with warmth--gave him confidence--and retired
+to the other side of the study, to observe his whole demeanour on
+this new occasion.
+
+As he beheld his features varying between the passions of humble
+fear and fervent hope, his face sometimes glowing with the rapture
+of thanksgiving, and sometimes with the blushes of contrition, he
+thus exclaimed apart:-
+
+"This is the true education on which to found the principles of
+religion.  The favour conferred by Heaven in granting the freedom of
+petitions to its throne, can never be conceived with proper force
+but by those whose most tedious moments during their infancy were
+NOT passed in prayer.  Unthinking governors of childhood! to insult
+the Deity with a form of worship in which the mind has no share;
+nay, worse, has repugnance, and by the thoughtless habits of youth,
+prevent, even in age, devotion."
+
+Henry's attention was so firmly fixed that he forgot there was a
+spectator of his fervour; nor did he hear young William enter the
+chamber and even speak to his father.
+
+At length closing his book and rising from his knees, he approached
+his uncle and cousin, with a sedateness in his air, which gave the
+latter a very false opinion of the state of his youthful companion's
+mind.
+
+"So, Mr. Henry," cried William, "you have been obliged, at last, to
+say your prayers."
+
+The dean informed his son "that to Henry it was no punishment to
+pray."
+
+"He is the strangest boy I ever knew!" said William, inadvertently.
+
+"To be sure," said Henry, "I was frightened when I first knelt; but
+when I came to the words, FATHER, WHICH ART IN HEAVEN, they gave me
+courage; for I know how merciful and kind a FATHER is, beyond any
+one else."
+
+The dean again embraced his nephew, let fall a tear to his poor
+brother Henry's misfortunes; and admonished the youth to show
+himself equally submissive to other instructions, as he had done to
+those which inculcate piety.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+
+The interim between youth and manhood was passed by young William
+and young Henry in studious application to literature; some casual
+mistakes in our customs and manners on the part of Henry; some too
+close adherences to them on the side of William.
+
+Their different characters, when boys, were preserved when they
+became men:  Henry still retained that natural simplicity which his
+early destiny had given him; he wondered still at many things he saw
+and heard, and at times would venture to give his opinion,
+contradict, and even act in opposition to persons whom long
+experience and the approbation of the world had placed in situations
+which claimed his implicit reverence and submission.
+
+Unchanged in all his boyish graces, young William, now a man, was
+never known to infringe upon the statutes of good-breeding; even
+though sincerity, his own free will, duty to his neighbour, with
+many other plebeian virtues and privileges, were the sacrifice.
+
+William inherited all the pride and ambition of the dean--Henry, all
+his father's humility.  And yet, so various and extensive is the
+acceptation of the word pride, that, on some occasions, Henry was
+proud even beyond his cousin.  He thought it far beneath his dignity
+ever to honour, or contemplate with awe, any human being in whom he
+saw numerous failings.  Nor would he, to ingratiate himself into the
+favour of a man above him, stoop to one servility, such as the
+haughty William daily practised.
+
+"I know I am called proud," one day said William to Henry.
+
+"Dear cousin," replied Henry, "it must be only, then, by those who
+do not know you; for to me you appear the humblest creature in the
+world."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"I am certain of it; or would you always give up your opinion to
+that of persons in a superior state, however inferior in their
+understanding?  Would else their weak judgment immediately change
+yours, though, before, you had been decided on the opposite side?
+Now, indeed, cousin, I have more pride than you; for I never will
+stoop to act or to speak contrary to my feelings."
+
+"Then you will never be a great man."
+
+"Nor ever desire it, if I must first be a mean one."
+
+There was in the reputation of these two young men another mistake,
+which the common retailers of character committed.  Henry was said
+to be wholly negligent, while William was reputed to be extremely
+attentive to the other sex.  William, indeed, was gallant, was
+amorous, and indulged his inclination to the libertine society of
+women; but Henry it was who LOVED them.  He admired them at a
+reverential distance, and felt so tender an affection for the
+virtuous female, that it shocked him to behold, much more to
+associate with, the depraved and vicious.
+
+In the advantages of person Henry was still superior to William; and
+yet the latter had no common share of those attractions which
+captivate weak, thoughtless, or unskilful minds.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+
+About the time that Henry and William quitted college, and had
+arrived at their twentieth year, the dean purchased a small estate
+in a village near to the country residence of Lord and Lady Bendham;
+and, in the total want of society, the dean's family were frequently
+honoured with invitations from the great house.
+
+Lord Bendham, besides a good estate, possessed the office of a lord
+of the bed-chamber to his Majesty.  Historians do not ascribe much
+importance to the situation, or to the talents of nobles in this
+department, nor shall this little history.  A lord of the bed-
+chamber is a personage well known in courts, and in all capitals
+where courts reside; with this advantage to the inquirer, that in
+becoming acquainted with one of those noble characters, he becomes
+acquainted with all the remainder; not only with those of the same
+kingdom, but those of foreign nations; for, in whatever land, in
+whatever climate, a lord of the bed-chamber must necessarily be the
+self-same creature:  one wholly made up of observance, of obedience,
+of dependence, and of imitation--a borrowed character--a character
+formed by reflection.
+
+The wife of this illustrious peer, as well as himself, took her hue,
+like the chameleon, from surrounding objects:  her manners were not
+governed by her mind but were solely directed by external
+circumstances.  At court, humble, resigned, patient, attentive:  at
+balls, masquerades, gaming-tables, and routs, gay, sprightly, and
+flippant; at her country seat, reserved, austere, arrogant, and
+gloomy.
+
+Though in town her timid eye in presence of certain personages would
+scarcely uplift its trembling lid, so much she felt her own
+insignificance, yet, in the country, till Lady Clementina arrived,
+there was not one being of consequence enough to share in her
+acquaintance; and she paid back to her inferiors there all the
+humiliating slights, all the mortifications, which in London she
+received from those to whom SHE was inferior.
+
+Whether in town or country, it is but justice to acknowledge that in
+her own person she was strictly chaste; but in the country she
+extended that chastity even to the persons of others; and the young
+woman who lost her virtue in the village of Anfield had better have
+lost her life.  Some few were now and then found hanging or drowned,
+while no other cause could be assigned for their despair than an
+imputation on the discretion of their character, and dread of the
+harsh purity of Lady Bendham.  She would remind the parish priest of
+the punishment allotted for female dishonour, and by her influence
+had caused many an unhappy girl to do public penance in their own or
+the neighbouring churches.
+
+But this country rigour in town she could dispense withal; and, like
+other ladies of virtue, she there visited and received into her
+house the acknowledged mistresses of any man in elevated life.  It
+was not, therefore, the crime, but the rank which the criminal held
+in society, that drew down Lady Bendham's vengeance.  She even
+carried her distinction of classes in female error to such a very
+nice point that the adulterous concubine of an elder brother was her
+most intimate acquaintance, whilst the less guilty unmarried
+mistress of the younger she would not sully her lips to exchange a
+word with.
+
+Lord and Lady Bendham's birth, education, talents, and propensities,
+being much on the same scale of eminence, they would have been a
+very happy pair, had not one great misfortune intervened--the lady
+never bore her lord a child, while every cottage of the village was
+crammed with half-starved children, whose father from week to week,
+from year to year, exerted his manly youth, and wasted his strength
+in vain, to protect them from hunger; whose mother mourned over her
+new-born infant as a little wretch, sent into the world to deprive
+the rest of what already was too scanty for them; in the castle,
+which owned every cottage and all the surrounding land, and where
+one single day of feasting would have nourished for a mouth all the
+poor inhabitants of the parish, not one child was given to partake
+of the plenty.  The curse of barrenness was on the family of the
+lord of the manor, the curse of fruitfulness upon the famished poor.
+
+This lord and lady, with an ample fortune, both by inheritance and
+their sovereign's favour, had never yet the economy to be exempt
+from debts; still, over their splendid, their profuse table, they
+could contrive and plan excellent schemes "how the poor might live
+most comfortably with a little better management."
+
+The wages of a labouring man, with a wife and half a dozen small
+children, Lady Bendham thought quite sufficient if they would only
+learn a little economy.
+
+"You know, my lord, those people never want to dress--shoes and
+stockings, a coat and waistcoat, a gown and a cap, a petticoat and a
+handkerchief, are all they want--fire, to be sure, in winter--then
+all the rest is merely for provision."
+
+"I'll get a pen and ink," said young Henry, one day, when he had the
+honour of being at their table, "and see what the REST amounts to."
+
+"No, no accounts," cried my lord, "no summing up; but if you were to
+calculate, you must add to the receipts of the poor my gift at
+Christmas--last year, during the frost, no less than a hundred
+pounds."
+
+"How benevolent!" exclaimed the dean.
+
+"How prudent!" exclaimed Henry.
+
+"What do you mean by prudent?" asked Lord Bendham.  "Explain your
+meaning."
+
+"No, my lord," replied the dean, "do not ask for an explanation:
+this youth is wholly unacquainted with our customs, and, though a
+man in stature, is but a child in intellects.  Henry, have I not
+often cautioned you--"
+
+"Whatever his thoughts are upon the subject," cried Lord Bendham, "I
+desire to know them."
+
+"Why, then, my lord," answered Henry, "I thought it was prudent in
+you to give a little, lest the poor, driven to despair, should take
+all."
+
+"And if they had, they would have been hanged."
+
+"Hanging, my lord, our history, or some tradition, says, was
+formerly adopted as a mild punishment, in place of starving."
+
+"I am sure," cried Lady Bendham (who seldom spoke directly to the
+argument before her), "I am sure they ought to think themselves much
+obliged to us."
+
+"That is the greatest hardship of all," cried Henry.
+
+"What, sir?" exclaimed the earl.
+
+"I beg your pardon--my uncle looks displeased--I am very ignorant--I
+did not receive my first education in this country--and I find I
+think so differently from every one else, that I am ashamed to utter
+my sentiments."
+
+"Never mind, young man," answered Lord Bendham; "we shall excuse
+your ignorance for once.  Only inform us what it was you just now
+called THE GREATEST HARDSHIP OF ALL."
+
+"It was, my lord, that what the poor receive to keep them from
+perishing should pass under the name of GIFTS and BOUNTY.  Health,
+strength, and the will to earn a moderate subsistence, ought to be
+every man's security from obligation."
+
+"I think a hundred pounds a great deal of money," cried Lady
+Bendham; "and I hope my lord will never give it again."
+
+"I hope so too," cried Henry; "for if my lord would only be so good
+as to speak a few words for the poor as a senator, he might possibly
+for the future keep his hundred pounds, and yet they never want it."
+
+Lord Bendham had the good nature only to smile at Henry's
+simplicity, whispering to himself, "I had rather keep my--" his last
+word was lost in the whisper.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+
+In the country--where the sensible heart is still more susceptible
+of impressions; and where the unfeeling mind, in the want of other
+men's wit to invent, forms schemes for its own amusement--our youths
+both fell in love:  if passions, that were pursued on the most
+opposite principles, can receive the same appellation.  William,
+well versed in all the licentious theory, thought himself in love,
+because he perceived a tumultuous impulse cause his heart to beat
+while his fancy fixed on a certain object whose presence agitated
+yet more his breast.
+
+Henry thought himself not in love, because, while he listened to
+William on the subject, he found their sensations did not in the
+least agree.
+
+William owned to Henry that he loved Agnes, the daughter of a
+cottager in the village, and hoped to make her his mistress.
+
+Henry felt that his tender regard for Rebecca, the daughter of the
+curate of the parish, did not inspire him even with the boldness to
+acquaint her with his sentiments, much less to meditate one design
+that might tend to her dishonour.
+
+While William was cautiously planning how to meet in private, and
+accomplish the seduction of the object of his passion, Henry was
+endeavouring to fortify the object of HIS choice with every virtue.
+He never read a book from which he received improvement that he did
+not carry it to Rebecca--never heard a circumstance which might
+assist towards her moral instruction that he did not haste to tell
+it her; and once when William boasted
+
+"He knew he was beloved by Agnes;"
+
+Henry said, with equal triumph, "he had not dared to take the means
+to learn, nor had Rebecca dared to give one instance of her
+partiality."
+
+Rebecca was the youngest, and by far the least handsome daughter of
+four, to whom the Reverend Mr. Rymer, a widower, was father.  The
+other sisters were accounted beauties; and she, from her comparative
+want of personal charms, having been less beloved by her parents,
+and less caressed by those who visited them, than the rest, had for
+some time past sought other resources of happiness than the
+affection, praise, and indulgence of her fellow-creatures.  The
+parsonage house in which this family lived was the forlorn remains
+of an ancient abbey:  it had in later times been the habitation of a
+rich and learned rector, by whom, at his decease, a library was
+bequeathed for the use of every succeeding resident.  Rebecca, left
+alone in this huge ruinous abode, while her sisters were paying
+stated visits in search of admiration, passed her solitary hours in
+reading.  She not merely read--she thought:  the choicest English
+books from this excellent library taught her to THINK; and
+reflection fashioned her mind to bear the slights, the
+mortifications of neglect, with a patient dejection, rather than
+with an indignant or a peevish spirit.
+
+This resignation to injury and contumely gave to her perfect
+symmetry of person, a timid eye, a retiring manner, and spread upon
+her face a placid sweetness, a pale serenity indicating sense, which
+no wise connoisseur in female charms would have exchanged for all
+the sparkling eyes and florid tints of her vain and vulgar sisters.
+Henry's soul was so enamoured of her gentle deportment, that in his
+sight she appeared beautiful; while she, with an understanding
+competent to judge of his worth, was so greatly surprised, so
+prodigiously astonished at the distinction, the attention, the many
+offices of civility paid her by him, in preference to her idolised
+sisters, that her gratitude for such unexpected favours had
+sometimes (even in his presence, and in that of her family) nearly
+drowned her eyes with tears.  Yet they were only trifles, in which
+Henry had the opportunity or the power to give her testimony of his
+regard--trifles, often more grateful to the sensible mind than
+efforts of high importance; and by which the proficient in the human
+heart will accurately trace a passion wholly concealed from the dull
+eye of the unskilled observer.
+
+The first cause of amazement to Rebecca in the manners of Henry was,
+that he talked with HER as well as with her sisters; no visitor else
+had done so.  In appointing a morning's or an evening's walk, he
+proposed HER going with the rest; no one had ever required her
+company before.  When he called and she was absent, he asked where
+she was; no one had ever missed her before.  She thanked him most
+sincerely, and soon perceived that, at those times when he was
+present, company was more pleasing even than books.
+
+Her astonishment, her gratitude, did not stop here.  Henry proceeded
+in attention; he soon selected her from her sister to tell her the
+news of the day, answered her observations the first; once gave her
+a sprig of myrtle from his bosom in preference to another who had
+praised its beauty; and once--never-to-be-forgotten kindness--
+sheltered her from a hasty shower with his parapluie, while he
+lamented to her drenched companions,
+
+"That he had but ONE to offer."
+
+From a man whose understanding and person they admire, how dear, how
+impressive on the female heart is every trait of tenderness!  Till
+now, Rebecca had experienced none; not even of the parental kind:
+and merely from the overflowings of a kind nature (not in return for
+affection) had she ever loved her father and her sisters.
+Sometimes, repulsed by their severity, she transferred the fulness
+of an affectionate heart upon birds, or the brute creation:  but
+now, her alienated mind was recalled and softened by a sensation
+that made her long to complain of the burthen it imposed.  Those
+obligations which exact silence are a heavy weight to the grateful;
+and Rebecca longed to tell Henry "that even the forfeit of her life
+would be too little to express the full sense she had of the respect
+he paid to her."  But as modesty forbade not only every kind of
+declaration, but every insinuation purporting what she felt, she
+wept through sleepless nights from a load of suppressed explanation;
+yet still she would not have exchanged this trouble for all the
+beauty of her sisters.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+
+Old John and Hannah Primrose, a prudent hardy couple, who, by many
+years of peculiar labour and peculiar abstinence, were the least
+poor of all the neighbouring cottagers, had an only child (who has
+been named before) called Agnes:  and this cottage girl was
+reckoned, in spite of the beauty of the elder Miss Rymers, by far
+the prettiest female in the village.
+
+Reader of superior rank, if the passions which rage in the bosom of
+the inferior class of human kind are beneath your sympathy, throw
+aside this little history, for Rebecca Rymer and Agnes Primrose are
+its heroines.
+
+But you, unprejudiced reader, whose liberal observations are not
+confined to stations, but who consider all mankind alike deserving
+your investigation; who believe that there exists, in some,
+knowledge without the advantage of instruction; refinement of
+sentiment independent of elegant society; honourable pride of heart
+without dignity of blood; and genius destitute of art to render it
+conspicuous--you will, perhaps, venture to read on, in hopes that
+the remainder of this story may deserve your attention, just as the
+wild herb of the forest, equally with the cultivated plant in the
+garden, claims the attention of the botanist.
+
+Young William saw in young Agnes even more beauty than was beheld by
+others; and on those days when he felt no inclination to ride, to
+shoot, or to hunt, he would contrive, by some secret device, the
+means to meet with her alone, and give her tokens (if not of his
+love) at least of his admiration of her beauty, and of the pleasure
+he enjoyed in her company.
+
+Agnes listened, with a kind of delirious enchantment, to all her
+elevated and eloquent admirer uttered; and in return for his praises
+of her charms, and his equivocal replies in respect to his designs
+towards her, she gave to him her most undisguised thoughts, and her
+whole enraptured heart.
+
+This harmless intercourse (as she believed it) had not lasted many
+weeks before she loved him:  she even confessed she did, every time
+that any unwonted mark of attention from him struck with unexpected
+force her infatuated senses.
+
+It has been said by a celebrated writer, upon the affection
+subsisting between the two sexes, "that there are many persons who,
+if they had never heard of the passion of love, would never have
+felt it."  Might it not with equal truth be added, that there are
+many more, who, having heard of it, and believing most firmly that
+they feel it, are nevertheless mistaken?  Neither of these cases was
+the lot of Agnes.  She experienced the sentiment before she ever
+heard it named in the sense with which it had possessed her--joined
+with numerous other sentiments; for genuine love, however rated as
+the chief passion of the human heart, is but a poor dependent, a
+retainer upon other passions; admiration, gratitude, respect,
+esteem, pride in the object.  Divest the boasted sensation of these,
+and it is not more than the impression of a twelve-month, by
+courtesy, or vulgar error, termed love.
+
+Agnes was formed by the rarest structure of the human frame, and
+destined by the tenderest thrillings of the human soul, to inspire
+and to experience real love:  but her nice taste, her delicate
+thoughts, were so refined beyond the sphere of her own station in
+society, that nature would have produced this prodigy of attraction
+in vain, had not one of superior education and manners assailed her
+affections; and had she been accustomed to the conversation of men
+in William's rank of life, she had, perhaps, treated William's
+addresses with indifference; but, in comparing him with her familiar
+acquaintance, he was a miracle!  His unremitting attention seemed
+the condescension of an elevated being, to whom she looked up with
+reverence, with admiration, with awe, with pride, with sense of
+obligation--and all those various passions which constitute true,
+and never-to-be-eradicated, love.
+
+But in vain she felt and even avowed with her lips what every look,
+every gesture, had long denoted; William, with discontent, sometimes
+with anger, upbraided her for her false professions, and vowed,
+"that while one tender proof, which he fervently besought, was
+wanting, she did but aggravate his misery by less endearments."
+
+Agnes had been taught the full estimation of female virtue; and if
+her nature could have detested any one creature in a state of
+wretchedness, it would have been the woman who had lost her honour;
+yet, for William, what would not Agnes forfeit?  The dignity, the
+peace, the serenity, the innocence of her own mind, love soon
+encouraged her to fancy she could easily forego; and this same
+overpowering influence at times so forcibly possessed her, that she
+even felt a momentary transport in the contemplation "of so precious
+a sacrifice to him."  But then she loved her parents, and their
+happiness she could not prevail with herself to barter even for HIS.
+She wished he would demand some other pledge of her attachment to
+him; for there was none but this, her ruin in no other shape, that
+she would deny at his request.  While thus she deliberated, she
+prepared for her fall.
+
+Bred up with strict observance both of his moral and religious
+character, William did not dare to tell an unequivocal lie even to
+his inferiors; he never promised Agnes he would marry her; nay, even
+he paid so much respect to the forms of truth, that no sooner was it
+evident that he had obtained her heart, her whole soul entire--so
+that loss of innocence would be less terrifying than separation from
+him--no sooner did he perceive this, than he candidly told her he
+"could never make her his wife."  At the same time he lamented "the
+difference of their births, and the duty he owed his parents'
+hopes," in terms so pathetic to her partial ear, that she thought
+him a greater object of compassion in his attachment even than
+herself; and was now urged by pity to remove the cause of his
+complainings.
+
+One evening Henry accidentally passed the lonely spot where William
+and she constantly met; he observed his cousin's impassioned eye,
+and her affectionate yet fearful glance.  William, he saw, took
+delight in the agitation of mind, in the strong apprehension mixed
+with the love of Agnes.  This convinced Henry that either he or
+himself was not in love; for his heart told him he would not have
+beheld such emotions of tenderness, mingled with such marks of
+sorrow, upon the countenance of Rebecca, for the wealth of the
+universe.
+
+The first time he was alone with William after this, he mentioned
+his observation on Agnes's apparent affliction, and asked "why her
+grief was the result of their stolen meetings."
+
+"Because," replied Williams, "her professions are unlimited, while
+her manners are reserved; and I accuse her of loving me with unkind
+moderation, while I love her to distraction."
+
+"You design to marry her, then?"
+
+"How can you degrade me by the supposition?"
+
+"Would it degrade you more to marry her than to make her your
+companion?  To talk with her for hours in preference to all other
+company?  To wish to be endeared to her by still closer ties?"
+
+"But all this is not raising her to the rank of my wife."
+
+"It is still raising her to that rank for which wives alone were
+allotted."
+
+"You talk wildly!  I tell you I love her; but not enough, I hope, to
+marry her."
+
+"But too much, I hope, to undo her?"
+
+"That must be her own free choice--I make use of no unwarrantable
+methods."
+
+"What are the warrantable ones?"
+
+"I mean, I have made her no false promises; offered no pretended
+settlement; vowed no eternal constancy."
+
+"But you have told her you love her; and, from that confession, has
+she not reason to expect every protection which even promises could
+secure?"
+
+"I cannot answer for her expectations; but I know if she should make
+me as happy as I ask, and I should then forsake her, I shall not
+break my word."
+
+"Still she will be deceived, for you will falsify your looks."
+
+"Do you think she depends on my looks?"
+
+"I have read in some book, Looks are the lover's sole dependence."
+
+"I have no objection to her interpreting mine in her favour; but
+then for the consequences she will have herself, and only herself,
+to blame."
+
+"Oh!  Heaven!"
+
+"What makes you exclaim so vehemently?"
+
+"A forcible idea of the bitterness of that calamity which inflicts
+self-reproach!  Oh, rather deceive her; leave her the consolation to
+reproach YOU rather than HERSELF."
+
+"My honour will not suffer me."
+
+"Exert your honour, and never see her more."
+
+"I cannot live without her."
+
+"Then live with her by the laws of your country, and make her and
+yourself both happy."
+
+"Am I to make my father and my mother miserable?  They would disown
+me for such a step."
+
+"Your mother, perhaps, might be offended, but your father could not.
+Remember the sermon he preached but last Sunday, upon--THE SHORTNESS
+OF THIS LIFE--CONTEMPT OF ALL RICHES AND WORLDLY HONOURS IN BALANCE
+WITH A QUIET CONSCIENCE; and the assurance he gave us, THAT THE
+GREATEST HAPPINESS ENJOYED UPON EARTH WAS TO BE FOUND UNDER A HUMBLE
+ROOF, WITH HEAVEN IN PROSPECT."
+
+"My father is a very good man," said William; "and yet, instead of
+being satisfied with a humble roof, he looks impatiently forward to
+a bishop's palace."
+
+"He is so very good, then," said Henry, "that perhaps, seeing the
+dangers to which men in exalted stations are exposed, he has such
+extreme philanthropy, and so little self-love, he would rather that
+HIMSELF should brave those perils incidental to wealth and grandeur
+than any other person."
+
+"You are not yet civilised," said William; "and to argue with you is
+but to instruct, without gaining instruction."
+
+"I know, sir," replied Henry, "that you are studying the law most
+assiduously, and indulge flattering hopes of rising to eminence in
+your profession:  but let me hint to you--that though you may be
+perfect in the knowledge how to administer the commandments of men,
+unless you keep in view the precepts of God, your judgment, like
+mine, will be fallible."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+
+The dean's family passed this first summer at the new-purchased
+estate so pleasantly, that they left it with regret when winter
+called them to their house in town.
+
+But if some felt concern in quitting the village of Anfield, others
+who were left behind felt the deepest anguish.  Those were not the
+poor--for rigid attention to the religion and morals of people in
+poverty, and total neglect of their bodily wants, was the dean's
+practice.  He forced them to attend church every Sabbath; but
+whether they had a dinner on their return was too gross and temporal
+an inquiry for his spiritual fervour.  Good of the soul was all he
+aimed at; and this pious undertaking, besides his diligence as a
+pastor, required all his exertion as a magistrate--for to be very
+poor and very honest, very oppressed yet very thankful, is a degree
+of sainted excellence not often to be attained, without the aid of
+zealous men to frighten into virtue.
+
+Those, then, who alone felt sorrow at the dean's departure were two
+young women, whose parents, exempt from indigence, preserved them
+from suffering under his unpitying piety, but whose discretion had
+not protected them from the bewitching smiles of his nephew, and the
+seducing wiles of his son.
+
+The first morning that Rebecca rose and knew Henry was gone till the
+following summer, she wished she could have laid down again and
+slept away the whole long interval.  Her sisters' peevishness, her
+father's austerity, she foresaw, would be insupportable now that she
+had experienced Henry's kindness, and he was no longer near to
+fortify her patience.  She sighed--she wept--she was unhappy.
+
+But if Rebecca awoke with a dejected mind and an aching heart, what
+were the sorrows of Agnes?  The only child of doating parents, she
+never had been taught the necessity of resignation--untutored,
+unread, unused to reflect, but knowing how to feel; what were her
+sufferings when, on waking, she called to mind that "William was
+gone," and with him gone all that excess of happiness which his
+presence had bestowed, and for which she had exchanged her future
+tranquillity?
+
+Loss of tranquillity even Rebecca had to bemoan:  Agnes had still
+more--the loss of innocence!
+
+Hal William remained in the village, shame, even conscience,
+perhaps, might have been silenced; but, separated from her betrayer,
+parted from the joys of guilt, and left only to its sorrows, every
+sting which quick sensibility could sharpen, to torture her, was
+transfixed in her heart.  First came the recollection of a cold
+farewell from the man whose love she had hoped her yielding passion
+had for ever won; next, flashed on her thoughts her violated person;
+next, the crime incurred; then her cruelty to her parents; and, last
+of all, the horrors of detection.
+
+She knew that as yet, by wariness, care, and contrivance, her
+meetings with William had been unsuspected; but, in this agony of
+mind, her fears fore-boded an informer who would defy all caution;
+who would stigmatise her with a name--dear and desired by every
+virtuous female--abhorrent to the blushing harlot--the name of
+mother.
+
+That Agnes, thus impressed, could rise from her bed, meet her
+parents and her neighbours with her usual smile of vivacity, and
+voice of mirth, was impossible:  to leave her bed at all, to creep
+downstairs, and reply in a faint, broken voice to questions asked,
+were, in her state of mind, mighty efforts; and they were all to
+which her struggles could attain for many weeks.
+
+William had promised to write to her while he was away:  he kept his
+word; but not till the end of two months did she receive a letter.
+Fear for his health, apprehension of his death during this cruel
+interim, caused an agony of suspense, which, by representing him to
+her distracted fancy in a state of suffering, made him, if possible,
+still dearer to her.  In the excruciating anguish of uncertainty,
+she walked with trembling steps through all weathers (when she could
+steal half a day while her parents were employed in labour abroad)
+to the post town, at six miles' distance, to inquire for his long-
+expected, long-wished-for letter.
+
+When at last it was given to her, that moment of consolation seemed
+to repay her for the whole time of agonising terror she had endured.
+"He is alive!" she said, "and I have suffered nothing."
+
+She hastily put this token of his health and his remembrance of her
+into her bosom, rich as an empress with a new-acquired dominion.
+The way from home, which she had trod with heavy pace, in the fear
+of renewed disappointment, she skimmed along on her return swift as
+a doe:  the cold did not pierce, neither did the rain wet her.  Many
+a time she put her hand upon the prize she possessed, to find if it
+were safe:  once, on the road, she took it from her bosom, curiously
+viewed the seal and the direction, then replacing it, did not move
+her fingers from their fast grip till she arrived at her own house.
+
+Her father and her mother were still absent.  She drew a chair, and
+placing it near to the only window in the room, seated herself with
+ceremonious order; then gently drew forth her treasure, laid it on
+her knee, and with a smile that almost amounted to a laugh of
+gladness, once more inspected the outward part, before she would
+trust herself with the excessive joy of looking within.
+
+At length the seal was broken--but the contents still a secret.
+Poor Agnes had learned to write as some youths learn Latin:  so
+short a time had been allowed for the acquirement, and so little
+expert had been her master, that it took her generally a week to
+write a letter of ten lines, and a month to read one of twenty.  But
+this being a letter on which her mind was deeply engaged, her whole
+imagination aided her slender literature, and at the end of a
+fortnight she had made out every word.  They were these -
+
+
+"Dr. Agnes,--I hope you have been well since we parted--I have been
+very well myself; but I have been teased with a great deal of
+business, which has not given me time to write to you before.  I
+have been called to the bar, which engages every spare moment; but I
+hope it will not prevent my coming down to Anfield with my father in
+the summer.
+
+"I am, Dr. Agnes,
+"With gratitude for all the favours you have conferred on me,
+"Yours, &c.
+"W. N."
+
+
+To have beheld the illiterate Agnes trying for two weeks, day and
+night, to find out the exact words of this letter, would have struck
+the spectator with amazement, had he also understood the right, the
+delicate, the nicely proper sensations with which she was affected
+by every sentence it contained.
+
+She wished it had been kinder, even for his sake who wrote it;
+because she thought so well of him, and desired still to think so
+well, that she was sorry at any faults which rendered him less
+worthy of her good opinion.  The cold civility of his letter had
+this effect--her clear, her acute judgment felt it a kind of
+prevarication to PROMISE TO WRITE AND THEN WRITE NOTHING THAT WAS
+HOPED FOR.  But, enthralled by the magic of her passion, she shortly
+found excuses for the man she loved, at the expense of her own
+condemnation.
+
+"He has only the fault of inconstancy," she cried; "and that has
+been caused by MY change of conduct.  Had I been virtuous still, he
+had still been affectionate."  Bitter reflection!
+
+Yet there was a sentence in the letter, that, worse than all the
+tenderness left out, wounded her sensibility; and she could not read
+the line, GRATITUDE FOR ALL THE FAVOURS CONFERRED ON ME, without
+turning pale with horror, then kindling with indignation at the
+commonplace thanks, which insultingly reminded her of her innocence
+given in exchange for unmeaning acknowledgments.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+
+Absence is said to increase strong and virtuous love, but to destroy
+that which is weak and sensual.  In the parallel between young
+William and young Henry, this was the case; for Henry's real love
+increased, while William's turbulent passion declined in separation:
+yet had the latter not so much abated that he did not perceive a
+sensation, like a sudden shock of sorrow, on a proposal made him by
+his father, of entering the marriage state with a young woman, the
+dependent niece of Lady Bendham; who, as the dean informed him, had
+signified her lord's and her own approbation of his becoming their
+nephew.
+
+At the first moment William received this intimation from his
+father, his heart revolted with disgust from the object, and he
+instantly thought upon Agnes with more affection than he had done
+for many weeks before.  This was from the comparison between her and
+his proposed wife; for he had frequently seen Miss Sedgeley at Lord
+Bendham's, but had never seen in her whole person or manners the
+least attraction to excite his love.  He pictured to himself an
+unpleasant home, with a companion so little suited to his taste, and
+felt a pang of conscience, as well as of attachment, in the thought
+of giving up for ever his poor Agnes.
+
+But these reflections, these feelings, lasted only for the moment.
+No sooner had the dean explained why the marriage was desirable,
+recited what great connections and what great patronage it would
+confer upon their family, than William listened with eagerness, and
+both his love and his conscience were, if not wholly quieted, at
+least for the present hushed.
+
+Immediately after the dean had expressed to Lord and Lady Bendham
+his son's "sense of the honour and the happiness conferred on him,
+by their condescension in admitting him a member of their noble
+family," Miss Sedgeley received from her aunt nearly the same shock
+as William had done from his father.  FOR SHE (placed in the exact
+circumstance of her intended husband) HAD FREQUENTLY SEEN THE DEAN'S
+SON AT LORD BENDHAM'S, BUT HAD NEVER SEE IN HIS WHOLE PERSON OR
+MANNERS THE LEAST ATTRACTION TO EXCITE HER LOVE.  SHE PICTURED TO
+HERSELF AN UNPLEASANT HOME, WITH A COMPANION SO LITTLE SUITED TO HER
+TASTE; and at this moment she felt a more than usual partiality to
+the dean's nephew, finding the secret hope she had long indulged of
+winning his affections so near being thwarted.
+
+But Miss Sedgeley was too much subjected to the power of her uncle
+and aunt to have a will of her own, at least, to dare to utter it.
+She received the commands of Lady Bendham with her accustomed
+submission, while all the consolation for the grief they gave her
+was, "that she resolved to make a very bad wife."
+
+"I shall not care a pin for my husband," said she to herself; "and
+so I will dress and visit, and do just as I like; he dare not be
+unkind because of my aunt.  Besides, now I think again, it is not so
+disagreeable to marry HIM as if I were obliged to marry into any
+other family, because I shall see his cousin Henry as often, if not
+oftener than ever."
+
+For Miss Sedgeley--whose person he did not like, and with her mind
+thus disposed--William began to force himself to shake off every
+little remaining affection, even all pity, for the unfortunate, the
+beautiful, the sensible, the doating Agnes; and determined to place
+in a situation to look down with scorn upon her sorrows, this weak,
+this unprincipled woman.
+
+Connections, interest, honours, were powerful advocates.  His
+private happiness William deemed trivial compared to public opinion;
+and to be under obligations to a peer, his wife's relation, gave
+greater renown in his servile mind than all the advantages which
+might accrue from his own intrinsic independent worth.
+
+In the usual routine of pretended regard and real indifference--
+sometimes disgust--between parties allied by what is falsely termed
+PRUDENCE, the intended union of Mr. Norwynne with Miss Sedgeley
+proceeded in all due form; and at their country seats at Anfield,
+during the summer, their nuptials were appointed to be celebrated.
+
+William was now introduced into all Lord Bendham's courtly circles.
+His worldly soul was entranced in glare and show; he thought of
+nothing but places, pensions, titles, retinues; and steadfast,
+alert, unshaken in the pursuit of honours, neglected not the lesser
+means of rising to preferment--his own endowments.  But in this
+round of attention to pleasures and to study, he no more complained
+to Agnes of "excess of business."  Cruel as she had once thought
+that letter in which he thus apologised for slighting her, she at
+last began to think it was wondrous kind, for he never found time to
+send her another.  Yet she had studied with all her most anxious
+care to write him an answer; such a one as might not lessen her
+understanding, which he had often praised, in his esteem.
+
+Ah, William! even with less anxiety your beating, ambitious heart
+panted for the admiration of an attentive auditory, when you first
+ventured to harangue in public!  With far less hope and fear (great
+as yours were) did you first address a crowded court, and thirst for
+its approbation on your efforts, than Agnes sighed for your
+approbation when she took a pen and awkwardly scrawled over a sheet
+of paper.  Near twenty times she began, but to a gentleman--and one
+she loved like William--what could she dare to say?  Yet she had
+enough to tell, if shame had not interposed, or if remaining
+confidence in his affection had but encouraged her.
+
+Overwhelmed by the first, and deprived of the last, her hand shook,
+her head drooped, and she dared not communicate what she knew must
+inevitably render her letter unpleasing, and still more depreciate
+her in his regard, as the occasion of encumbrance, and of injury to
+his moral reputation.
+
+Her free, her liberal, her venturous spirit subdued, intimidated by
+the force of affection, she only wrote -
+
+
+"Sir,--I am sorry you have so much to do, and should be ashamed if
+you put it off to write to me.  I have not been at all well this
+winter.  I never before passed such a one in all my life, and I hope
+you will never know such a one yourself in regard to not being
+happy.  I should be sorry if you did--think I would rather go
+through it again myself than you should.  I long for the summer, the
+fields are so green, and everything so pleasant at that time of the
+year.  I always do long for the summer, but I think never so much in
+my life as for this that is coming; though sometimes I wish that
+last summer had never come.  Perhaps you wish so too; and that this
+summer would not come either.
+
+"Hope you will excuse all faults, as I never learnt but one month.
+
+"Your obedient humble servant,
+
+"A. P."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+
+Summer arrived, and lords and ladies, who had partaken of all the
+dissipation of the town, whom opera-houses, gaming-houses, and
+various other houses had detained whole nights from their peaceful
+home, were now poured forth from the metropolis, to imbibe the
+wholesome air of the farmer and peasant, and disseminate, in return,
+moral and religious principles.
+
+Among the rest, Lord and Lady Bendham, strenuous opposers of vice in
+the poor, and gentle supporters of it in the rich, never played at
+cards, or had concerts on a Sunday, in the village, where the poor
+were spies--HE, there, never gamed, nor drank, except in private,
+and SHE banished from her doors every woman of sullied character.
+Yet poverty and idiotism are not the same.  The poor can hear, can
+talk, sometimes can reflect; servants will tell their equals how
+they live in town; listeners will smile and shake their heads; and
+thus hypocrisy, instead of cultivating, destroys every seed of moral
+virtue.
+
+The arrival of Lord Bendham's family at Anfield announced to the
+village that the dean's would quickly follow.  Rebecca's heart
+bounded with joy at the prospect.  Poor Agnes felt a sinking, a
+foreboding tremor, that wholly interrupted the joy of HER
+expectations.  She had not heard from William for five tedious
+months.  She did not know whether he loved or despised, whether he
+thought of or had forgotten her.  Her reason argued against the hope
+that he loved her; yet hope still subsisted.  She would not abandon
+herself to despair while there was doubt.  She "had frequently been
+deceived by the appearance of circumstances; and perhaps he might
+come all kindness--perhaps, even not like her the less for that
+indisposition which had changed her bloom to paleness, and the
+sparkling of her eyes to a pensive languor."
+
+Henry's sensations, on his return to Anfield, were the self-same as
+Rebecca's were; sympathy in thought, sympathy in affection, sympathy
+in virtue made them so.  As he approached near the little village,
+he felt more light than usual.  He had committed no trespass there,
+dreaded no person's reproach or inquiries; but his arrival might
+prove, at least to one object, the cause of rejoicing.
+
+William's sensations were the reverse of these.  In spite of his
+ambition, and the flattering view of one day accomplishing all to
+which it aspired, he often, as they proceeded on their journey,
+envied the gaiety of Henry, and felt an inward monitor that told him
+"he must first act like Henry, to be as happy."
+
+His intended marriage was still, to the families of both parties
+(except to the heads of the houses), a profound secret.  Neither the
+servants, nor even Henry, had received the slightest intimation of
+the designed alliance; and this to William was matter of some
+comfort.
+
+When men submit to act in contradiction to their principles, nothing
+is so precious as a secret.  In their estimation, to have their
+conduct KNOWN is the essential mischief.  While it is hid, they
+fancy the sin but half committed; and to the moiety of a crime they
+reconcile their feelings, till, in progression, the whole, when
+disclosed, appears trivial.  He designed that Agnes should receive
+the news from himself by degrees, and in such a manner as to console
+her, or at least to silence her complaints; and with the wish to
+soften the regret which he still felt on the prudent necessity of
+yielding her wholly up when his marriage should take place, he
+promised to himself some intervening hours of private meetings,
+which he hoped would produce satiety.
+
+While Henry flew to Mr. Rymer's house with a conscience clear, and a
+face enlightened with gladness--while he met Rebecca with open-
+hearted friendship and frankness, which charmed her soul to peaceful
+happiness--William skulked around the cottage of Agnes, dreading
+detection; and when, towards midnight, he found the means to obtain
+the company of the sad inhabitant, he grew so impatient at her tears
+and sobs, at the delicacy with which she withheld her caresses, that
+he burst into bitter upbraidings at her coyness, and at length
+(without discovering the cause of her peculiar agitation and
+reserve) abruptly left her vowing "never to see her more."
+
+As he turned away, his heart even congratulated him "that he had
+made so discreet a use of his momentary disappointment, as thus to
+shake her off at once without further explanation or excuse."
+
+She, ignorant and illiterate as she was, knew enough of her own
+heart to judge of his, and to know that such violent affections and
+expressions, above all, such a sudden, heart-breaking manner of
+departure, were not the effects of love, nor even of humanity.  She
+felt herself debased by a ruffian--yet still, having loved him when
+she thought him a far different character, the blackest proof of the
+deception could not cause a sentiment formed whilst she was
+deceived.
+
+She passed the remainder of the night in anguish:  but with the
+cheerful morning some cheery thoughts consoled her.  She thought
+"perhaps William by this time had found himself to blame; had
+conceived the cause of her grief and her distant behaviour, and had
+pitied her."
+
+The next evening she waited, with anxious heart, for the signal that
+had called her out the foregoing night.  In vain she watched,
+counted the hours, and the stars, and listened to the nightly
+stillness of the fields around:  they were not disturbed by the
+tread of her lover.  Daylight came; the sun rose in its splendour:
+William had not been near her, and it shone upon none so miserable
+as Agnes.
+
+She now considered his word, "never to see her more," as solemnly
+passed:  she heard anew the impressive, the implacable tone in which
+the sentence was pronounced; and could look back on no late token of
+affection on which to found the slightest hope that he would recall
+it.
+
+Still, reluctant to despair--in the extremity of grief, in the
+extremity of fear for an approaching crisis which must speedily
+arrive, she (after a few days had elapsed) trusted a neighbouring
+peasant with a letter to deliver to Mr. Norwynne in private.
+
+This letter, unlike the last, was dictated without the hope to
+please:  no pains were taken with the style, no care in the
+formation of the letters:  the words flowed from necessity; strong
+necessity guided her hand.
+
+
+"Sir,--I beg your pardon--pray don't forsake me all at once--see me
+one time more--I have something to tell you--it is what I dare tell
+nobody else--and what I am ashamed to tell you--yet pray give me a
+word of advice--what to do I don't know--I then will part, if you
+please, never to trouble you, never any more--but hope to part
+friends--pray do, if you please--and see me one time more.
+
+"Your obedient,
+
+"A. P."
+
+
+These incorrect, inelegant lines produced this immediate reply
+
+
+"TO AGNES PRIMROSE.
+
+"I have often told you, that my honour is as dear to me as my life:
+my word is a part of that honour--you heard me say I WOULD NEVER SEE
+YOU AGAIN.  I shall keep my word."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+
+When the dean's family had been at Anfield about a month--one misty
+morning, such as portends a sultry day, as Henry was walking swiftly
+through a thick wood, on the skirts of the parish, he suddenly
+started on hearing a distant groan, expressive, as he thought, both
+of bodily and mental pain.  He stopped to hear it repeated, that he
+might pursue the sound.  He heard it again; and though now but in
+murmurs, yet, as the tone implied excessive grief, he directed his
+course to that part of the wood from which it came.
+
+As he advanced, in spite of the thick fog, he discerned the
+appearance of a female stealing away on his approach.  His eye was
+fixed on this object; and regardless where he placed his feet, he
+soon shrunk back with horror, on perceiving they had nearly trod
+upon a new-born infant, lying on the ground!--a lovely male child,
+entered on a world where not one preparation had been made to
+receive him.
+
+"Ah!" cried Henry, forgetting the person who had fled, and with a
+smile of compassion on the helpless infant, "I am glad I have found
+you--you give more joy to me than you have done to your hapless
+parents.  Poor dear," continued he, while he took off his coat to
+wrap it in, "I will take care of you while I live--I will beg for
+you, rather than you shall want; but first, I will carry you to
+those who can, at present, do more for you than myself."
+
+Thus Henry said and thought, while he enclosed the child carefully
+in his coat, and took it in his arms.  But proceeding to walk his
+way with it, an unlucky query struck him, WHERE HE SHOULD GO.
+
+"I must not take it to the dean's," he cried, "because Lady
+Clementina will suspect it is not nobly, and my uncle will suspect
+it is not lawfully, born.  Nor must I take it to Lord Bendham's for
+the self-same reason, though, could it call Lady Bendham mother,
+this whole village, nay, the whole country round, would ring with
+rejoicings for its birth.  How strange!" continued he, "that we
+should make so little of human creatures, that one sent among us,
+wholly independent of his own high value, becomes a curse instead of
+a blessing by the mere accident of circumstances."
+
+He now, after walking out of the wood, peeped through the folds of
+his coat to look again at his charge.  He started, turned pale, and
+trembled to behold what, in the surprise of first seeing the child,
+had escaped his observation.  Around its little throat was a cord
+entwined by a slipping noose, and drawn half way--as if the
+trembling hand of the murderer had revolted from its dreadful
+office, and he or she had heft the infant to pine away in nakedness
+and hunger, rather than see it die.
+
+Again Henry wished himself joy of the treasure he had found; and
+more fervently than before; for he had not only preserved one
+fellow-creature from death, but another from murder.
+
+Once more he looked at his charge, and was transported to observe,
+upon its serene brow and sleepy eye, no traces of the dangers it had
+passed--no trait of shame either for itself or its parents--no
+discomposure at the unwelcome reception it was likely to encounter
+from a proud world!  He now slipped the fatal string from its neck;
+and by this affectionate disturbance causing the child to cry, he
+ran (but he scarcely knew whither) to convey it to a better nurse.
+
+He at length found himself at the door of his dear Rebecca--for so
+very happy Henry felt at the good luck which had befallen him, that
+he longed to bestow a part of the blessing upon her he loved.
+
+He sent for her privately out of the house to speak to him.  When
+she came, "Rebecca," said he (looking around that no one observed
+him), "Rebecca, I have brought you something you will like."
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+"You know, Rebecca, that you love deserted birds, strayed kittens,
+and motherless lambs.  I have brought something more pitiable than
+any of these.  Go, get a cap and a little gown, and then I will give
+it you."
+
+"A gown!" exclaimed Rebecca.  "If you have brought me a monkey, much
+as I should esteem any present from YOU, indeed I cannot touch it."
+
+"A monkey!" repeated Henry, almost in anger:  then changing the tone
+of his voice, exclaimed in triumph,
+
+"It is a child!"
+
+On this he gave it a gentle pinch, that its cry might confirm the
+pleasing truth he spoke.
+
+"A child!" repeated Rebecca in amaze.
+
+"Yes, and indeed I found it."
+
+"Found it!"
+
+"Indeed I did.  The mother, I fear, had just forsaken it."
+
+"Inhuman creature!"
+
+"Nay, hold, Rebecca!  I am sure you will pity her when you see her
+child--you then will know she must have loved it--and you will
+consider how much she certainly had suffered before she left it to
+perish in a wood."
+
+"Cruel!" once more exclaimed Rebecca.
+
+"Oh!  Rebecca, perhaps, had she possessed a home of her own she
+would have given it the best place in it; had she possessed money,
+she would have dressed it with the nicest care; or had she been
+accustomed to disgrace, she would have gloried in calling it hers!
+But now, as it is, it is sent to us--to you and me, Rebecca--to take
+care of."
+
+Rebecca, soothed by Henry's compassionate eloquence, held out her
+arms and received the important parcel; and, as she kindly looked in
+upon the little stranger,
+
+"Now, are not you much obliged to me," said Henry, "for having
+brought it to you?  I know no one but yourself to whom I would have
+trusted it with pleasure."
+
+"Much obliged to you," repeated Rebecca, with a very serious face,
+"if I did but know what to do with it--where to put it--where to
+hide it from my father and sisters."
+
+"Oh! anywhere," returned Henry.  "It is very good--it will not cry.
+Besides, in one of the distant, unfrequented rooms of your old
+abbey, through the thick walls and long gallery, an infant's cry
+cannot pass.  Yet, pray be cautious how you conceal it; for if it
+should be discovered by your father or sisters, they will take it
+from you, prosecute the wretched mother, and send the child to the
+parish."
+
+"I will do all I can to prevent them," said Rebecca; "and I think I
+call to mind a part of the house where it MUST be safe.  I know,
+too, I can take milk from the dairy, and bread from the pantry,
+without their being missed, or my father much the poorer.  But if--"
+That instant they were interrupted by the appearance of the stern
+curate at a little distance.  Henry was obliged to run swiftly away,
+while Rebecca returned by stealth into the house with her innocent
+burthen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+
+There is a word in the vocabulary more bitter, more direful in its
+import, than all the rest.  Reader, if poverty, if disgrace, if
+bodily pain, even if slighted love be your unhappy fate, kneel and
+bless Heaven for its beneficent influence, so that you are not
+tortured with the anguish of--REMORSE.
+
+Deep contrition for past offences had long been the punishment of
+unhappy Agnes; but, till the day she brought her child into the
+world, REMORSE had been averted.  From that day, life became an
+insupportable load, for all reflection was torture!  To think,
+merely to think, was to suffer excruciating agony; yet, never before
+was THOUGHT so intrusive--it haunted her in every spot, in all
+discourse or company:  sleep was no shelter--she never slept but her
+racking dreams told her--"she had slain her infant."
+
+They presented to her view the naked innocent whom she had longed to
+press to her bosom, while she lifted up her hand against its life.
+They laid before her the piteous babe whom her eyeballs strained to
+behold once more, while her feet hurried her away for ever.
+
+Often had Agnes, by the winter's fire, listened to tales of ghosts--
+of the unceasing sting of a guilty conscience; often had she
+shuddered at the recital of murders; often had she wept over the
+story of the innocent put to death, and stood aghast that the human
+mind could premeditate the heinous crime of assassination.
+
+From the tenderest passion the most savage impulse may arise:  in
+the deep recesses of fondness, sometimes is implanted the root of
+cruelty; and from loving William with unbounded lawless affection,
+she found herself depraved so as to become the very object which
+could most of all excite her own horror!
+
+Still, at delirious intervals, that passion, which, like a fatal
+talisman, had enchanted her whole soul, held out the delusive
+prospect that "William might yet relent;" for, though she had for
+ever discarded the hope of peace, she could not force herself to
+think but that, again blest with his society, she should, at least
+for the time that he was present with her, taste the sweet cup of
+"forgetfulness of the past," for which she so ardently thirsted.
+
+"Should he return to me," she thought in those paroxysms of
+delusion, "I would to HIM unbosom all my guilt; and as a remote, a
+kind of unwary accomplice in my crime, his sense, his arguments,
+ever ready in making light of my sins, might afford a respite to my
+troubled conscience."
+
+While thus she unwittingly thought, and sometimes watched through
+the night, starting with convulsed rapture at every sound, because
+it might possibly be the harbinger of him, HE was busied in
+carefully looking over marriage articles, fixing the place of
+residence with his destined bride, or making love to her in formal
+process.  Yet, Agnes, vaunt!--he sometimes thought on thee--he could
+not witness the folly, the weakness, the vanity, the selfishness of
+his future wife, without frequently comparing her with thee.  When
+equivocal words and prevaricating sentences fell from her lips, he
+remembered with a sigh thy candour--that open sincerity which dwelt
+upon thy tongue, and seemed to vie with thy undisguised features, to
+charm the listener even beyond the spectator.  While Miss Sedgeley
+eagerly grasped at all the gifts he offered, he could not but call
+to mind "that Agnes's declining hand was always closed, and her
+looks forbidding, every time he proffered such disrespectful tokens
+of his love."  He recollected the softness which beamed from her
+eyes, the blush on her face at his approach, while he could never
+discern one glance of tenderness from the niece of Lord Bendham:
+and the artificial bloom on her cheeks was nearly as disgusting as
+the ill-conducted artifice with which she attempted gentleness and
+love.
+
+But all these impediments were only observed as trials of his
+fortitude--his prudence could overcome his aversion, and thus he
+valued himself upon his manly firmness.
+
+'Twas now, that William being rid, by the peevishness of Agnes, most
+honourably of all future ties to her, and the day of his marriage
+with Miss Sedgeley being fixed, that Henry, with the rest of the
+house, learnt what to them was news.  The first dart of Henry's eye
+upon his cousin, when, in his presence, he was told of the intended
+union, caused a reddening on the face of the latter:  he always
+fancied Henry saw his thoughts; and he knew that Henry in return
+would give him HIS.  On the present occasion, no sooner were they
+alone, and Henry began to utter them, than William charged him--"Not
+to dare to proceed; for that, too long accustomed to trifle, the
+time was come when serious matters could alone employ his time; and
+when men of approved sense must take place of friends and confidants
+like him."
+
+Henry replied, "The love, the sincerity of friends, I thought, were
+their best qualities:  these I possess."
+
+"But you do not possess knowledge."
+
+"If that be knowledge which has of late estranged you from all who
+bear you a sincere affection; which imprints every day more and more
+upon your features the marks of gloomy inquietude; am I not happier
+in my ignorance?"
+
+"Do not torment me with your ineffectual reasoning."
+
+"I called at the cottage of poor Agnes the other day," returned
+Henry:  "her father and mother were taking their homely meal alone;
+and when I asked for their daughter, they wept and said--Agnes was
+not the girl she had been."
+
+William cast his eyes on the floor.
+
+Henry proceeded--"They said a sickness, which they feared would
+bring her to the grave, had preyed upon her for some time past.
+They had procured a doctor:  but no remedy was found, and they
+feared the worst."
+
+"What worst!" cried William (now recovered from the effect of the
+sudden intelligence, and attempting a smile).  "Do they think she
+will die?  And do you think it will be for love?  We do not hear of
+these deaths often, Henry."
+
+"And if SHE die, who will hear of THAT?  No one but those interested
+to conceal the cause:  and thus it is, that dying for love becomes a
+phenomenon."
+
+Henry would have pursued the discourse farther; but William,
+impatient on all disputes, except where his argument was the better
+one, retired from the controversy, crying out, "I know my duty, and
+want no instructor."
+
+It would be unjust to William to say he did not feel for this
+reported illness of Agnes--he felt, during that whole evening, and
+part of the next morning--but business, pleasures, new occupations,
+and new schemes of future success, crowded to dissipate all
+unwelcome reflections; and he trusted to her youth, her health, her
+animal spirits, and, above all, to the folly of the gossips' story
+of DYING FOR LOVE, as a surety for her life, and a safeguard for his
+conscience.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+
+The child of William and Agnes was secreted, by Rebecca, in a
+distant chamber belonging to the dreary parsonage, near to which
+scarcely any part of the family ever went.  There she administered
+to all its wants, visited it every hour of the day, and at intervals
+during the night viewed almost with the joy of a mother its health,
+its promised life--and in a short the found she loved her little
+gift better than anything on earth, except the giver.
+
+Henry called the next morning, and the next, and many succeeding
+times, in hopes of an opportunity to speak alone with Rebecca, to
+inquire concerning her charge, and consult when and how he could
+privately relieve her from her trust; as he now meant to procure a
+nurse for wages.  In vain he called or lurked around the house; for
+near five weeks all the conversation he could obtain with her was in
+the company of her sisters, who, beginning to observe his
+preference, his marked attention to her, and the languid, half-
+smothered transport with which she received it, indulged their envy
+and resentment at the contempt shown to their charms, by watching
+her steps when he was away, and her every look and whisper while he
+was present.
+
+For five weeks, then, he was continually thwarted in his expectation
+of meeting her alone:  and at the end of that period the whole
+design he had to accomplish by such a meeting was rendered abortive.
+
+Though Rebecca had with strictest caution locked the door of the
+room in which the child was hid, and covered each crevice, and every
+aperture through which sound might more easily proceed; though she
+had surrounded the infant's head with pillows, to obstruct all noise
+from his crying; yet one unlucky night, the strength of his voice
+increasing with his age, he was heard by the maid, who slept the
+nearest to that part of the house.
+
+Not meaning to injure her young mistress, the servant next morning
+simply related to the family what sounds had struck her ear during
+the night, and whence they proceeded.  At first she was ridiculed
+"for supposing herself awake when in reality she must be dreaming."
+But steadfastly persisting in what she had said, and Rebecca's
+blushes, confusion, and eagerness to prove the maid mistaken, giving
+suspicion to her charitable sisters, they watched her the very next
+time she went by stealth to supply the office of a mother; and
+breaking abruptly on her while feeding and caressing the infant,
+they instantly concluded it was her OWN; seized it, and, in spite of
+her entreaties, carried it down to their father.
+
+That account which Henry had given Rebecca "of his having found the
+child," and which her own sincerity, joined to the faith she had in
+his word, made her receive as truth, she now felt would be heard by
+the present auditors with contempt, even with indignation, as a
+falsehood.  Her affright is easier conceived than described.
+
+Accused, and forced by her sisters along with the child before the
+curate, his attention to their representation, his crimson face,
+knit brow, and thundering voice, struck with terror her very soul:
+innocence is not always a protection against fear--sometimes less
+bold than guilt.
+
+In her father and sisters she saw, she knew the suspicions, partial,
+cruel, boisterous natures by whom she was to be judged; and timid,
+gentle, oppressed, she fell trembling on her knees, and could only
+articulate,
+
+"Forgive me."
+
+The curate would not listen to this supplication till she had
+replied to this question, "Whose child is this?"
+
+She replied, "I do not know."
+
+Questioned louder, and with more violence still, "how the child came
+there, wherefore her affection for it, and whose it was," she felt
+the improbability of the truth still more forcibly than before, and
+dreaded some immediate peril from her father's rage, should she dare
+to relate an apparent lie.  She paused to think upon a more probable
+tale than the real one; and as she hesitated, shook in every limb--
+while her father exclaimed,
+
+"I understand the cause of this terror; it confirms your sisters'
+fears, and your own shame.  From your infancy I have predicted that
+some fatal catastrophe would befall you.  I never loved you like my
+other children--I never had the cause:  you were always unlike the
+rest--and I knew your fate would be calamitous; but the very worst
+of my forebodings did not come to this--so young, so guilty, and so
+artful!  Tell me this instant, are you married?"
+
+Rebecca answered, "No."
+
+The sisters lifted up their hands!
+
+The father continued--"Vile creature, I thought as much.  Still I
+will know the father of this child."
+
+She cast up her eyes to Heaven, and firmly vowed she "did not know
+herself--nor who the mother was."
+
+"This is not to be borne!" exclaimed the curate in fury.  "Persist
+in this, and you shall never see my face again.  Both your child and
+you I'll turn out of my house instantly, unless you confess your
+crime, and own the father."
+
+Curious to know this secret, the sisters went up to Rebecca with
+seeming kindness, and "conjured her to spare her father still
+greater grief, and her own and her child's public infamy, by
+acknowledging herself its mother, and naming the man who had undone
+her."
+
+Emboldened by this insult from her own sex, Rebecca now began to
+declare the simple truth.  But no sooner had she said that "the
+child was presented to her care by a young man who had found it,"
+than her sisters burst into laughter, and her father into redoubled
+rage.
+
+Once more the women offered their advice--"to confess and be
+forgiven."
+
+Once more the father raved.
+
+Beguiled by solicitations, and terrified by threats, like women
+formerly accused of witchcraft, and other wretches put to the
+torture, she thought her present sufferings worse than any that
+could possibly succeed; and felt inclined to confess a falsehood, at
+which her virtue shrunk, to obtain a momentary respite from
+reproach; she felt inclined to take the mother's share of the
+infant, but was at a loss to whom to give the father's.  She thought
+that Henry had entailed on himself the best right to the charge; but
+she loved him, and could not bear the thought of accusing him
+falsely.
+
+While, with agitation in the extreme, she thus deliberated, the
+proposition again was put,
+
+"Whether she would trust to the mercy of her father by confessing,
+or draw down his immediate vengeance by denying her guilt?"
+
+She made choice of the former--and with tears and sobs "owned
+herself the mother of the boy."
+
+But still--"Who is the father?"
+
+Again she shrunk from the question, and fervently implored "to be
+spared on that point."
+
+Her petition was rejected with vehemence; and the curate's rage
+increased till she acknowledged,
+
+"Henry was the father."
+
+"I thought so," exclaimed all her sisters at the same time.
+
+"Villain!" cried the curate.  "The dean shall know, before this hour
+is expired, the baseness of the nephew whom he supports upon
+charity; he shall know the misery, the grief, the shame he has
+brought on me, and how unworthy he is of his protection."
+
+"Oh! have mercy on him!" cried Rebecca, as she still knelt to her
+father:  "do not ruin him with his uncle, for he is the best of
+human beings."
+
+"Ay, ay, we always saw how much she loved him," cried her sisters.
+
+"Wicked, unfortunate girl!" said the clergyman (his rage now
+subsiding, and tears supplying its place), "you have brought a
+scandal upon us all:  your sisters' reputation will be stamped with
+the colour of yours--my good name will suffer:  but that is trivial-
+-your soul is lost to virtue, to religion, to shame--"
+
+"No, INDEED!" cried Rebecca:  "if you will but believe me."
+
+"Do not I believe you?  Have you not confessed?"
+
+"You will not pretend to unsay what you have said," cried her eldest
+sister:  "that would be making things worse."
+
+"Go, go out of my sight!" said her father.  "Take your child with
+you to your chamber, and never let me see either of you again.  I do
+not turn you out of my doors to-day, because I gave you my word I
+would not, if you revealed your shame; but by to-morrow I will
+provide some place for your reception, where neither I, nor any of
+your relations, shall ever see or hear of you again."
+
+Rebecca made an effort to cling around her father, and once more to
+declare her innocence:  but her sisters interposed, and she was
+taken, with her reputed son, to the chamber where the curate had
+sentenced her to remain, till she quitted his house for ever.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+
+The curate, in the disorder of his mind, scarcely felt the ground he
+trod as he hastened to the dean's house to complain of his wrongs.
+His name procured him immediate admittance into the library, and the
+moment the dean appeared the curate burst into tears.  The cause
+being required of such "very singular marks of grief," Mr. Rymer
+described himself "as having been a few moments ago the happiest of
+parents; but that his peace and that of his whole family had been
+destroyed by Mr. Henry Norwynne, the dean's nephew."
+
+He now entered into a minute recital of Henry's frequent visits
+there, and of all which had occurred in his house that morning, from
+the suspicion that a child was concealed under his roof, to the
+confession made by his youngest daughter of her fall from virtue,
+and of her betrayer's name.
+
+The dean was astonished, shocked, and roused to anger:  he vented
+reproaches and menaces on his nephew; and "blessing himself in a
+virtuous son, whose wisdom and counsel were his only solace in every
+care," sent for William to communicate with him on this unhappy
+subject.
+
+William came, all obedience, and heard with marks of amazement and
+indignation the account of such black villainy!  In perfect sympathy
+with Mr. Rymer and his father, he allowed "no punishment could be
+too great for the seducer of innocence, the selfish invader of a
+whole family's repose."
+
+Nor did William here speak what he did not think--he merely forgot
+his own conduct; or if he did recall it to his mind, it was with
+some fair interpretations in his own behalf; such as self-love ever
+supplies to those who wish to cheat intruding conscience.
+
+Young Henry being sent for to appear before this triumvirate, he
+came with a light step and a cheerful face.  But, on the charge
+against him being exhibited, his countenance changed--yet only to
+the expression of surprise!  He boldly asserted his innocence,
+plainly told the real fact, and with a deportment so perfectly
+unembarrassed, that nothing but the asseverations of the curate,
+"that his daughter had confessed the whole," could have rendered the
+story Henry told suspected; although some of the incidents he
+related were of no common kind.  But Mr. Rymer's charge was an
+objection to his veracity too potent to be overcome; and the dean
+exclaimed in anger -
+
+"We want not your avowal of your guilt--the mother's evidence is
+testimony sufficient."
+
+"The virtuous Rebecca is not a mother," said Henry, with firmness.
+
+William here, like Rebecca's sisters, took Henry aside, and warned
+him not to "add to his offence by denying what was proved against
+him."
+
+But Henry's spirit was too manly, his affection too sincere, not to
+vindicate the chastity of her he loved, even at his own peril.  He
+again and again protested "she was virtuous."
+
+"Let her instantly be sent for," said the dean, "and this madman
+confronted with her."  Then adding, that as he wished everything
+might be conducted with secrecy, he would not employ his clerk on
+the unhappy occasion:  he desired William to draw up the form of an
+oath, which he would administer as soon as she arrived.
+
+A man and horse were immediately despatched to bring Rebecca:
+William drew up an affidavit as his father had directed him--in
+REBECCA'S NAME SOLEMNLY PROTESTING SHE WAS A MOTHER, AND HENRY THE
+FATHER OF HER CHILD.  And now, the dean, suppressing till she came
+the warmth of his displeasure, spoke thus calmly to Henry:-
+
+"Even supposing that your improbable tale of having found this
+child, and all your declarations in respect to it were true, still
+you would be greatly criminal.  What plea can you make for not
+having immediately revealed the circumstance to me or some other
+proper person, that the real mother might have been detected and
+punished for her design of murder?"
+
+"In that, perhaps, I was to blame," returned Henry:  "but whoever
+the mother was, I pitied her."
+
+"Compassion on such an occasion was unplaced," said the dean.
+
+"Was I wrong, sir, to pity the child?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then how could I feel for THAT, and yet divest myself of all
+feeling for its mother?"
+
+"Its mother!" exclaimed William, in anger:  "she ought to have been
+immediately pursued, apprehended, and committed to prison."
+
+"It struck me, cousin William," replied Henry, "that the father was
+more deserving of a prison:  the poor woman had abandoned only one--
+the man, in all likelihood, had forsaken TWO pitiable creatures."
+
+William was pouring execrations "on the villain if such there could
+be," when Rebecca was announced.
+
+Her eyes were half closed with weeping; deep confusion overspread
+her face; and her tottering limbs could hardly support her to the
+awful chamber where the dean, her father, and William sat in
+judgment, whilst her beloved Henry stood arraigned as a culprit, by
+her false evidence.
+
+Upon her entrance, her father first addressed her, and said in a
+stern, threatening, yet feeling tone, "Unhappy girl, answer me
+before all present--Have you, or have you not, owned yourself a
+mother?"
+
+She replied, stealing a fearful look at Henry, "I have."
+
+"And have you not," asked the dean, "owned that Henry Norwynne is
+the father of your child?"
+
+She seemed as if she wished to expostulate.
+
+The curate raised his voice--"Have you or have you not?"
+
+"I have," she faintly replied.
+
+"Then here," cried the dean to William, "read that paper to her, and
+take the Bible."
+
+William read the paper, which in her name declared a momentous
+falsehood:  he then held the book in form, while she looked like one
+distracted--wrung her hands, and was near sinking to the earth.
+
+At the moment when the book was lifted up to her lips to kiss, Henry
+rushed to her--"Stop!" he cried, "Rebecca! do not wound your future
+peace.  I plainly see under what prejudices you have been accused,
+under what fears you have fallen.  But do not be terrified into the
+commission of a crime which hereafter will distract your delicate
+conscience.  My requesting you of your father for my wife will
+satisfy his scruples, prevent your oath--and here I make the
+demand."
+
+"He at length confesses!  Surprising audacity!  Complicated
+villainy!" exclaimed the dean; then added, "Henry Norwynne, your
+first guilt is so enormous; your second, in steadfastly denying it,
+so base, this last conduct so audacious; that from the present hour
+you must never dare to call me relation, or to consider my house as
+your home."
+
+William, in unison with his father, exclaimed, "Indeed, Henry, your
+actions merit this punishment."
+
+Henry answered with firmness, "Inflict what punishment you please."
+
+"With the dean's permission, then," said the curate, "you must marry
+my daughter."
+
+Henry started--"Do you pronounce that as a punishment?  It would be
+the greatest blessing Providence could bestow.  But how are we to
+live?  My uncle is too much offended ever to be my friend again; and
+in this country, persons of a certain class are so educated, they
+cannot exist without the assistance, or what is called the
+patronage, of others:  when that is withheld, they steal or starve.
+Heaven protect Rebecca from such misfortune!  Sir (to the curate),
+do you but consent to support her only a year or two longer, and in
+that time I will learn some occupation, that shall raise me to the
+eminence of maintaining both her and myself without one obligation,
+or one inconvenience, to a single being."
+
+Rebecca exclaimed, "Oh! you have saved me from such a weight of sin,
+that my future life would be too happy passed as your slave."
+
+"No, my dear Rebecca, return to your father's house, return to
+slavery but for a few years more, and the rest of your life I will
+make free."
+
+"And can you forgive me?"
+
+"I can love you; and in that is comprised everything that is kind."
+
+The curate, who, bating a few passions and a few prejudices, was a
+man of some worth and feeling, and felt, in the midst of her
+distress, though the result of supposed crimes, that he loved this
+neglected daughter better than he had before conceived; and he now
+agreed "to take her home for a time, provided she were relieved from
+the child, and the matter so hushed up, that it might draw no
+imputation upon the characters of his other daughters."
+
+The dean did not degrade his consequence by consultations of this
+nature:  but, having penetrated (as he imagined) into the very
+bottom of this intricate story, and issued his mandate against
+Henry, as a mark that he took no farther concern in the matter, he
+proudly walked out of the room without uttering another word.
+
+William as proudly and silently followed.
+
+The curate was inclined to adopt the manners of such great examples:
+but self-interest, some affection to Rebecca, and concern for the
+character of his family, made him wish to talk a little more with
+Henry, who new repeated what he had said respecting his marriage
+with Rebecca, and promised "to come the very next day in secret, and
+deliver her from the care of the infant, and the suspicion that
+would attend her nursing it."
+
+"But, above all," said the curate, "procure your uncle's pardon; for
+without that, without his protection, or the protection of some
+other rich man, to marry, to obey God's ordinance, INCREASE AND
+MULTIPLY is to want food for yourselves and your offspring."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+
+Though this unfortunate occurrence in the curate's family was,
+according to his own phrase, "to be hushed up," yet certain persons
+of his, of the dean's, and of Lord Bendham's house, immediately
+heard and talked of it.  Among these, Lady Bendham was most of all
+shocked and offended:  she said she "never could bear to hear Mr.
+Rymer either pray or preach again; he had not conducted himself with
+proper dignity either as a clergyman or a father; he should have
+imitated the dean's example in respect to Henry, and have turned his
+daughter out of doors."
+
+Lord Bendham was less severe on the seduced, but had no mercy on the
+seducer--"a vicious youth, without one accomplishment to endear
+vice."  For vice, Lord Bendham thought (with certain philosophers),
+might be most exquisitely pleasing, in a pleasing garb.  "But this
+youth sinned without elegance, without one particle of wit, or an
+atom of good breeding."
+
+Lady Clementina would not permit the subject to be mentioned a
+second time in her hearing--extreme delicacy in woman she knew was
+bewitching; and the delicacy she displayed on this occasion went so
+far that she "could not even intercede with the dean to forgive his
+nephew, because the topic was too gross for her lips to name even in
+the ear of her husband."
+
+Miss Sedgeley, though on the very eve of her bridal day with
+William, felt so tender a regard for Henry, that often she thought
+Rebecca happier in disgrace and poverty, blest with the love of him,
+than she was likely to be in the possession of friends and fortune
+with his cousin.
+
+Had Henry been of a nature to suspect others of evil, or had he felt
+a confidence in his own worth, such a passion as this young woman's
+would soon have disclosed its existence:  but he, regardless of any
+attractions of Miss Sedgeley, equally supposed he had none in her
+eyes; and thus, fortunately for the peace of all parties, this
+prepossession ever remained a secret except to herself.
+
+So little did William conceive that his clownish cousin could rival
+him in the affections of a woman of fashion, that he even slightly
+solicited his father "that Henry might not be banished from the
+house, at least till after the following day, when the great
+festival of his marriage was to be celebrated."
+
+But the dean refused, and reminded his son, "that he was bound both
+by his moral and religious character, in the eyes of God, and still
+more, in the eyes of men, to show lasting resentment of iniquity
+like his."
+
+William acquiesced, and immediately delivered to his cousin the
+dean's "wishes for his amendment," and a letter of recommendation
+procured from Lord Bendham, to introduce him on board a man-of-war;
+where, he was told, "he might hope to meet with preferment,
+according to his merit, as a sailor and a gentleman."
+
+Henry pressed William's hand on parting, wished him happy in his
+marriage, and supplicated, as the only favour he would implore, an
+interview with his uncle, to thank him for all his former kindness,
+and to see him for the last time.
+
+William repeated this petition to his father, but with so little
+energy, that the dean did not grant it.  He felt himself, he said,
+compelled to resent that reprobate character in which Henry had
+appeared; and he feared "lest the remembrance of his last parting
+from his brother might, on taking a formal leave of that brother's
+son, reduce him to some tokens of weakness, that would ill become
+his dignity and just displeasure."
+
+He sent him his blessing, with money to convey him to the ship, and
+Henry quitted his uncle's house in a flood of tears, to seek first a
+new protectress for his little foundling, and then to seek his
+fortune.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+
+The wedding-day of Mr. William Norwynne with Miss Caroline Sedgeley
+arrived; and, on that day, the bells of every parish surrounding
+that in which they lived joined with their own, in celebration of
+the blissful union.  Flowers were strewn before the new-married
+pair, and favours and ale made many a heart more gladsome than that
+of either bridegroom or bride.
+
+Upon this day of ringing and rejoicing the bells were not muffled,
+nor was conversation on the subject withheld from the ear of Agnes!
+She heard like her neighbours; and sitting on the side of her bed in
+her little chamber, suffered, under the cottage roof, as much
+affliction as ever visited a palace.
+
+Tyrants, who have embrued their hands in the blood of myriads of
+their fellow-creatures, can call their murders "religion, justice,
+attention to the good of mankind."  Poor Agnes knew no sophistry to
+calm HER sense of guilt:  she felt herself a harlot and a murderer;
+a slighted, a deserted wretch, bereft of all she loved in this
+world, all she could hope for in the next.
+
+She complained bitterly of illness, nor could the entreaties of her
+father and mother prevail on her to share in the sports of this
+general holiday.  As none of her humble visitors suspected the cause
+of her more than ordinary indisposition, they endeavoured to divert
+it with an account of everything they had seen at church--"what the
+bride wore; how joyful the bridegroom looked;"--and all the seeming
+signs of that complete happiness which they conceived was for
+certain tasted.
+
+Agnes, who, before this event, had at moments suppressed the
+agonising sting of self-condemnation in the faint prospect of her
+lover one day restored, on this memorable occasion lost every
+glimpse of hope, and was weighed to the earth with an accumulation
+of despair.
+
+Where is the degree in which the sinner stops?  Unhappy Agnes! the
+first time you permitted indecorous familiarity from a man who made
+you no promise, who gave you no hope of becoming his wife, who
+professed nothing beyond those fervent, though slender, affections
+which attach the rake to the wanton; the first time you interpreted
+his kind looks and ardent prayers into tenderness and constancy; the
+first time you descended from the character of purity, you rushed
+imperceptibly on the blackest crimes.  The more sincerely you loved,
+the more you plunged in danger:  from one ungoverned passion
+proceeded a second and a third.  In the fervency of affection you
+yielded up your virtue!  In the excess of fear, you stained your
+conscience by the intended murder of your child!  And now, in the
+violence of grief, you meditate--what?--to put an end to your
+existence by your own hand!
+
+After casting her thoughts around, anxious to find some bud of
+comfort on which to fix her longing eye; she beheld, in the total
+loss of William, nothing but a wide waste, an extensive plain of
+anguish.  "How am I to be sustained through this dreary journey of
+life?" she exclaimed.  Upon this question she felt, more poignantly
+than ever, her loss of innocence:  innocence would have been her
+support, but, in place of this best prop to the afflicted, guilt
+flashed on her memory every time she flew for aid to reflection.
+
+At length, from horrible rumination, a momentary alleviation came:
+"but one more step in wickedness," she triumphantly said, "and all
+my shame, all my sufferings are over."  She congratulated herself
+upon the lucky thought; when, but an instant after, the tears
+trickled down her face for the sorrow her death, her sinful death,
+would bring to her poor and beloved parents.  She then thought upon
+the probability of a sigh it might draw from William; and, the
+pride, the pleasure of that little tribute, counterpoised every
+struggle on the side of life.
+
+As she saw the sun decline, "When you rise again," she thought,
+"when you peep bright to-morrow morning into this little room to
+call me up, I shall not be here to open my eyes upon a hateful day--
+I shall no more regret that you have waked me!--I shall be sound
+asleep, never to wake again in this wretched world--not even the
+voice of William would then awake me."
+
+While she found herself resolved, and evening just come on, she
+hurried out of the house, and hastened to the fatal wood; the scene
+of her dishonour--the scene of intended murder--and now the
+meditated scene of suicide.
+
+As she walked along between the close-set tree, she saw, at a little
+distance, the spot where William first made love to her; and where
+at every appointment he used to wait her coming.  She darted her eye
+away from this place with horror; but, after a few moments of
+emotion, she walked slowly up to it--shed tears, and pressed with
+her trembling lips that tree, against which she was accustomed to
+lean while he talked with her.  She felt an inclination to make this
+the spot to die in; but her preconcerted, and the less frightful
+death, of leaping into a pool on the other side of the wood, induced
+her to go onwards.
+
+Presently, she came near the place where HER child, and WILLIAM'S,
+was exposed to perish.  Here she started with a sense of the most
+atrocious guilt; and her whole frame shook with the dread of an
+approaching, an omnipotent Judge, to sentence her for murder.
+
+She halted, appalled, aghast, undetermined whether to exist longer
+beneath the pressure of a criminal conscience, or die that very
+hour, and meet her final condemnation.
+
+She proceeded a few steps farther, and beheld the very ivy-bush
+close to which her infant lay when she left him exposed; and now,
+from this minute recollection, all the mother rising in her soul,
+she saw, as it were, her babe again in its deserted state; and
+bursting into tears of bitterest contrition and compassion, she
+cried--"As I was merciless to THEE, my child, thy father has been
+pitiless to ME!  As I abandoned THEE to die with cold and hunger, he
+has forsaken, and has driven ME to die by self-slaughter."
+
+She now fixed her eager eyes on the distant pond, and walked more
+nimbly than before, to rid herself of her agonising sensations.
+
+Just as she had nearly reached the wished-for brink, she heard a
+footstep, and saw, by the glimmering of a clouded moon, a man
+approaching.  She turned out of her path, for fear her intentions
+should be guessed at, and opposed; but still, as she walked another
+way, her eye was wishfully bent towards the water that was to
+obliterate her love and her remorse--obliterate, forever, William
+and his child.
+
+It was now that Henry, who, to prevent scandal, had stolen at that
+still hour of night to rid the curate of the incumbrance so irksome
+to him, and take the foundling to a woman whom he had hired for the
+charge--it was now that Henry came up, with the child of Agnes in
+his arms, carefully covered all over from the night's dew.
+
+"Agnes, is it you?" cried Henry, at a little distance.  "Where are
+you going thus late?"
+
+"Home, sir," said she, and rushed among the trees.
+
+"Stop, Agnes," he cried; "I want to bid you farewell; to-morrow I am
+going to leave this part of the country for a long time; so God
+bless you, Agnes."
+
+Saying this, he stretched out his arm to shake her by the hand.
+
+Her poor heart, trusting that his blessing, for want of more potent
+offerings, might, perhaps, at this tremendous crisis ascend to
+Heaven in her behalf, she stopped, returned, and put out her hand to
+take his.
+
+"Softly!" said he; "don't wake my child; this spot has been a place
+of danger to him, for underneath this very ivy-bush it was that I
+found him."
+
+"Found what?" cried Agnes, with a voice elevated to a tremulous
+scream.
+
+"I will not tell you the story," replied Henry; "for no one I have
+ever yet told of it would believe me."
+
+"I will believe you--I will believe you," she repeated with tones
+yet more impressive.
+
+"Why, then," said Henry, "only five weeks ago--"
+
+"Ah!" shrieked Agnes.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Henry.
+
+"Go on," she articulated, in the same voice.
+
+"Why, then, as I was passing this very place, I wish I may never
+speak truth again, if I did not find" (here he pulled aside the warm
+rug in which the infant was wrapped) "this beautiful child."
+
+"With a cord?--"
+
+"A cord was round its neck."
+
+"'Tis mine--the child is mine--'tis mine--my child--I am the mother
+and the murderer--I fixed the cord, while the ground shook under me-
+-while flashes of fire darted before my eyes!--while my heart was
+bursting with despair and horror!  But I stopped short--I did not
+draw the noose--I had a moment of strength, and I ran away.  I left
+him living--he is living now--escaped from my hands--and I am no
+longer ashamed, but overcome with joy that he is mine!  I bless you,
+my dear, my dear, for saving his life--for giving him to me again--
+for preserving MY life, as well as my child's."
+
+Here she took her infant, pressed it to her lips and to her bosom;
+then bent to the ground, clasped Henry's knees, and wept upon his
+feet.
+
+He could not for a moment doubt the truth of what she said; her
+powerful yet broken accents, her convulsive embraces of the child,
+even more than her declaration, convinced him she was its mother.
+
+"Good Heaven!" cried Henry, "and this is my cousin William's child!"
+
+"But your cousin does not know it," said she; "I never told him--he
+was not kind enough to embolden me; therefore do not blame HIM for
+MY sin; he did not know of my wicked designs--he did not encourage
+me--"
+
+"But he forsook you, Agnes."
+
+"He never said he would not.  He always told me he could not marry
+me."
+
+"Did he tell you so at his first private meeting?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor at the second?"
+
+"No; nor yet at the third."
+
+"When was it he told you so?"
+
+"I forget the exact time; but I remember it was on that very evening
+when I confessed to him--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That he had won my heart."
+
+"Why did you confess it?"
+
+"Because he asked me and said it would make him happy if I would say
+so."
+
+"Cruel! dishonourable!"
+
+"Nay, do not blame him; he cannot help NOT loving me, no more than I
+can help LOVING him."
+
+Henry rubbed his eyes.
+
+"Bless me, you weep!  I always heard that you were brought up in a
+savage country; but I suppose it is a mistake; it was your cousin
+William."
+
+"Will not you apply to him for the support of your child?" asked
+Henry.
+
+"If I thought he would not be angry."
+
+"Angry!  I will write to him on the subject if you will give me
+leave."
+
+"But do not say it is by my desire.  Do not say I wish to trouble
+him.  I would sooner beg than be a trouble to him."
+
+"Why are you so delicate?"
+
+"It is for my own sake; I wish him not to hate me."
+
+"Then, thus you may secure his respect.  I will write to him, and
+let him know all the circumstances of your case.  I will plead for
+his compassion on his child, but assure him that no conduct of his
+will ever induce you to declare (except only to me, who knew of your
+previous acquaintance) who is the father."
+
+To this she consented; but when Henry offered to take from her the
+infant, and carry him to the nurse he had engaged, to this she would
+not consent.
+
+"Do you mean, then, to acknowledge him yours?" Henry asked.
+
+"Nothing shall force me to part from him again.  I will keep him,
+and let my neighbours judge of me as they please."
+
+Here Henry caught at a hope he feared to name before.  "You will
+then have no objection," said he, "to clear an unhappy girl to a few
+friends, with whom her character has suffered by becoming, at my
+request, his nurse?"
+
+"I will clear any one, so that I do not accuse the father."
+
+"You give me leave, then, in your name, to tell the whole story to
+some particular friends, my cousin William's part in it alone
+excepted?"
+
+"I do."
+
+Henry now exclaimed, "God bless you!" with greater fervour than when
+he spoke it before; and he now hoped the night was nearly gone, that
+the time might be so much the shorter before Rebecca should be
+reinstated in the esteem of her father, and of all those who had
+misjudged her.
+
+"God bless YOU!" said Agnes, still more fervently, as she walked
+with unguided steps towards her home; for her eyes never wandered
+from the precious object which caused her unexpected return.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+
+Henry rose early in the morning, and flew to the curate's house,
+with more than even his usual thirst of justice, to clear injured
+innocence, to redeem from shame her whom he loved.  With eager haste
+he told that he had found the mother, whose fall from virtue
+Rebecca, overcome by confusion and threats, had taken on herself.
+
+Rebecca rejoiced, but her sisters shook their heads, and even the
+father seemed to doubt.
+
+Confident in the truth of his story, Henry persisted so boldly in
+his affirmations, that if Mr. Rymer did not entirely believe what he
+said, he secretly hoped that the dean and other people might;
+therefore he began to imagine he could possibly cast from HIS family
+the present stigma, whether or no it belonged to any other.
+
+No sooner was Henry gone than Mr. Rymer waited on the dean to report
+what he had heard; and he frankly attributed his daughter's false
+confession to the compulsive methods he had adopted in charging her
+with the offence.  Upon this statement, Henry's love to her was also
+a solution of his seemingly inconsistent conduct on that singular
+occasion.
+
+The dean immediately said, "I will put the matter beyond all doubt;
+for I will this moment send for the present reputed mother; and if
+she acknowledges the child, I will instantly commit her to prison
+for the attempt of putting it to death."
+
+The curate applauded the dean's sagacity; a warrant was issued, and
+Agnes brought prisoner before the grandfather of her child.
+
+She appeared astonished at the peril in which she found herself.
+Confused, also, with a thousand inexpressible sensations which the
+dean's presence inspired, she seemed to prevaricate in all she
+uttered.  Accused of this prevarication, she was still more
+disconcerted; said, and unsaid; confessed herself the mother of the
+infant, but declared she did not know, then owned she DID know, the
+name of the man who had undone her, but would never utter it.  At
+length she cast herself on her knees before the father of her
+betrayer, and supplicated "he would not punish her with severity, as
+she most penitently confessed her fault, so far as is related to
+herself."
+
+While Mr. and Mrs. Norwynne, just entered on the honeymoon, were
+sitting side by side enjoying with peace and with honour conjugal
+society, poor Agnes, threatened, reviled, and sinking to the dust,
+was hearing from the mouth of William's father the enormity of those
+crimes to which his son had been accessory.  She saw the mittimus
+written that was to convey her into a prison--saw herself delivered
+once more into the hands of constables, before her resolution left
+her, of concealing the name of William in her story.  She now,
+overcome with affright, and thinking she should expose him still
+more in a public court, if hereafter on her trial she should be
+obliged to name him--she now humbly asked the dean to hear a few
+words she had to say in private, where she promised she "would speak
+nothing but the truth."
+
+This was impossible, he said--"No private confessions before a
+magistrate!  All must be done openly."
+
+She urged again and again the same request:  it was denied more
+peremptorily than at first.  On which she said--"Then, sir, forgive
+me, since you force me to it, if I speak before Mr. Rymer and these
+men what I would for ever have kept a secret if I could.  One of
+your family is my child's father."
+
+"Any of my servants?" cried the dean.
+
+"No"
+
+"My nephew?"
+
+"No; one who is nearer still."
+
+"Come this way," said the dean; "I WILL speak to you in private."
+
+It was not that the dean, as a magistrate, distributed partial
+decrees of pretended justice--he was rigidly faithful to his trust:
+he would not inflict punishment on the innocent, nor let the guilty
+escape; but in all particulars of refined or coarse treatment he
+would alleviate or aggravate according to the rank of the offender.
+He could not feel that a secret was of equal importance to a poor as
+to a rich person; and while Agnes gave no intimation but that her
+delicacy rose from fears for herself, she did not so forcibly
+impress him with an opinion that it was a case which had weighty
+cause for a private conference as when she boldly said, "a part of
+HIS family, very near to him, was concerned in her tale."
+
+The final result of their conversation in an adjoining room was--a
+charge from the dean, in the words of Mr. Rymer, "to hush the affair
+up," and his promise that the infant should be immediately taken
+from her, and that "she should have no more trouble with it."
+
+"I have no trouble with it," replied Agnes:  "my child is now all my
+comfort, and I cannot part from it."
+
+"Why, you inconsistent woman, did you not attempt to murder it?"
+
+"That was before I had nursed it."
+
+"'Tis necessary you should give it up:  it must be sent some miles
+away; and then the whole circumstance will be soon forgotten."
+
+"_I_ shall never forget it."
+
+"No matter; you must give up the child.  Do not some of our first
+women of quality part with their children?"
+
+"Women of quality have other things to love--I have nothing else."
+
+"And would you occasion my son and his new-made bride the shame and
+the uneasiness--"
+
+Here Agnes burst into a flood of tears; and being angrily asked by
+the dean "why she blubbered so--"
+
+"_I_ have had shame and uneasiness," she replied, wringing her
+hands.
+
+"And you deserve them:  they are the sure attendants of crimes such
+as yours.  If you allured and entrapped a young man like my son--"
+
+"I am the youngest by five years," said Agnes.
+
+"Well, well, repent," returned the dean; "repent, and resign your
+child.  Repent, and you may yet marry an honest man who knows
+nothing of the matter."
+
+"And repent too?" asked Agnes.
+
+Not the insufferable ignorance of young Henry, when he first came to
+England, was more vexatious or provoking to the dean than the rustic
+simplicity of poor Agnes's uncultured replies.  He at last, in an
+offended and determined manner, told her--"That if she would resign
+the child, and keep the father's name a secret, not only the child
+should be taken care of, but she herself might, perhaps, receive
+some favours; but if she persisted in her imprudent folly, she must
+expect no consideration on her own account; nor should she be
+allowed, for the maintenance of the boy, a sixpence beyond the
+stated sum for a poor man's unlawful offspring."  Agnes, resolving
+not to be separated from her infant, bowed resignation to this last
+decree; and, terrified at the loud words and angry looks of the
+dean, after being regularly discharged, stole to her home, where the
+smiles of her infant, and the caresses she lavished on it, repaid
+her for the sorrows she had just suffered for its sake.
+
+Let it here be observed that the dean, on suffering Agnes to depart
+without putting in force the law against her as he had threatened,
+did nothing, as it were, BEHIND THE CURTAIN.  He openly and candidly
+owned, on his return to Mr. Rymer, his clerk, and the two constables
+who were attending, "that an affair of some little gallantry, in
+which he was extremely sorry to say his son was rather too nearly
+involved, required, in consideration of his recent marriage, and an
+excellent young woman's (his bride's) happiness, that what had
+occurred should not be publicly talked of; therefore he had thought
+proper only to reprimand the hussy, and send her about her
+business."
+
+The curate assured the dean, "that upon this, and upon all other
+occasions, which should, would, or COULD occur, he owed to his
+judgment, as his superior, implicit obedience."
+
+The clerk and the two constables most properly said, "his honour was
+a gentleman, and of course must know better how to act than they."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+
+The pleasure of a mother which Agnes experienced did not make her
+insensible to the sorrow of a daughter.
+
+Her parents had received the stranger child, along with a fabricated
+tale she told "of its appertaining to another," without the smallest
+suspicion; but, by the secret diligence of the curate, and the
+nimble tongues of his elder daughters, the report of all that had
+passed on the subject of this unfortunate infant soon circulated
+through the village; and Agnes in a few weeks had seen her parents
+pine away in grief and shame at her loss of virtue.
+
+She perceived the neighbours avoid, or openly sneer at HER; but that
+was little--she saw them slight her aged father and mother upon her
+account; and she now took the resolution rather to perish for want
+in another part of the country than live where she was known, and so
+entail an infamy upon the few who loved her.  She slightly hoped,
+too, that by disappearing from the town and neighbourhood some
+little reward might be allowed her for her banishment by the dean's
+family.  In that she was deceived.  No sooner was she gone, indeed,
+than her guilt was forgotten; but with her guilt her wants.  The
+dean and his family rejoiced at her and her child's departure; but
+as this mode she had chosen chanced to be no specified condition in
+the terms proposed to her, they did not think they were bound to pay
+her for it; and while she was too fearful and bashful to solicit the
+dean, and too proud (forlorn as she was) to supplicate his son, they
+both concluded she "wanted for nothing;" for to be poor, and too
+delicate to complain, they deemed incompatible.
+
+To heighten the sense of her degraded, friendless situation, she
+knew that Henry had not been unmindful of his promise to her, but
+that he had applied to his cousin in her and his child's behalf; for
+he had acquainted her that William's answer was--"all obligations on
+HIS part were now undertaken by his father; for that, Agnes having
+chosen (in a fit of malignity upon his marriage) to apprise the dean
+of their former intercourse, such conduct had for ever cancelled all
+attention due from him to her, or to her child, beyond what its bare
+maintenance exacted."
+
+In vain had Henry explained to him, by a second application, the
+predicament in which poor Agnes was involved before she consented to
+reveal her secret to his father.  William was happy in an excuse to
+rid himself of a burthen, and he seemed to believe, what he wished
+to be true--that she had forfeited all claim to his farther notice.
+
+Henry informed her of this unkind reception of his efforts in her
+favour in as gentle terms as possible, for she excited his deepest
+compassion.  Perhaps our OWN misfortunes are the cause of our pity
+for others, even more than THEIR ills; and Henry's present sorrows
+had softened his heart to peculiar sympathy in woe.  He had
+unhappily found that the ardour which had hurried him to vindicate
+the reputation of Rebecca was likely to deprive him of the blessing
+of her ever becoming his proved an offender instead of his wife; for
+the dean, chagrined that his son was at length nephew, submitted to
+the temptation of punishing the latter, while he forgave the former.
+He sent for Henry, and having coldly congratulated him on his and
+Rebecca's innocence, represented to him the impropriety of marrying
+the daughter of a poor curate, and laid his commands on him, "never
+to harbour such an intention more."  Henry found this restriction so
+severe that he would not promise obedience; but on his next attempt
+to visit Rebecca he met a positive repulse from her father, who
+signified to him, "that the dean had forbidden him to permit their
+farther acquaintance;" and the curate declared "that, for his own
+part, he had no will, judgment, or faculties, but that he submitted
+in all things to the superior clergy."
+
+At the very time young Henry had received the proposal from Mr.
+Rymer of his immediate union with his daughter, and the dean had
+made no objection Henry waived the happiness for the time present,
+and had given a reason why he wished it postponed.  The reason he
+then gave had its weight; but he had another concealed, of yet more
+import.  Much as he loved, and looked forward with rapture to that
+time when every morning, every evening, and all the day, he should
+have the delight of Rebecca's society, still there was one other
+wish nearer his heart than this one desire which for years had been
+foremost in his thoughts, and which not even love could eradicate.
+He longed, he pined to know what fate had befallen his father.
+Provided he were living, he could conceive no joy so great as that
+of seeing him!  If he were dead, he was anxious to pay the tribute
+of filial piety he owed, by satisfying his affectionate curiosity in
+every circumstance of the sad event.
+
+While a boy he had frequently expressed these sentiments to both his
+uncle and his cousin; sometimes they apprised him of the total
+improbability of accomplishing his wishes; at other times, when they
+saw the disappointment weigh heavy on his mind, they bade him "wait
+till he was a man before he could hope to put his designs in
+execution."  He did wait.  But on the very day he arrived at the age
+of twenty-one, he made a vow--"that to gain intelligence of his
+father should be the first important act of his free will."
+
+Previously to this time he had made all the inquiries possible,
+whether any new adventure to that part of Africa in which he was
+bred was likely to be undertaken.  Of this there appeared to be no
+prospect till the intended expedition to Sierra Leone was announced,
+and which favoured his hope of being able to procure a passage,
+among those adventurers, so near to the island on which his father
+was (or had been) prisoner, as to obtain an opportunity of visiting
+it by stealth.
+
+Fearing contention, or the being dissuaded from his plans if he
+communicated them, he not only formed them in private, but he kept
+them secretly; and, his imagination filled with the kindness, the
+tenderness, the excess of fondness he had experienced from his
+father, beyond any other person in the world, he had thought with
+delight on the separation from all his other kindred, to pay his
+duty to him, or to his revered memory.  Of late, indeed, there had
+been an object introduced to his acquaintance, from whom it was
+bitter to part; but his designs had been planned and firmly fixed
+before he knew Rebecca; nor could he have tasted contentment even
+with her at the expense of his piety to his father.
+
+In the last interview he had with the dean, Henry, perceiving that
+his disposition towards him was not less harsh than when a few days
+before he had ordered him on board a vessel, found this the proper
+time to declare his intentions of accompanying the fleet to Sierra
+Leone.  His uncle expressed surprise, but immediately gave him a sum
+of money in addition to that he had sent him before, and as much as
+he thought might defray his expenses; and, as he gave it, by his
+willingness, his look, and his accent, he seemed to say, "I foresee
+this is the last you will ever require."
+
+Young William, though a very dutiful son, was amazed when he heard
+of Henry's project, as "the serious and settled resolution of a
+man."
+
+Lady Clementina, Lord and Lady Bendham, and twenty others, "wished
+him a successful voyage," and thought no more about him.
+
+It was for Rebecca alone to feel the loss of Henry; it was for a
+mind like hers alone to know his worth; nor did this last proof of
+it, the quitting her for one who claimed by every tie a preference,
+lessen him in her esteem.  When, by a message from him, she became
+acquainted with his design, much as it interfered with her
+happiness, she valued him the more for this observance of his duty;
+the more regretted his loss, and the more anxiously prayed for his
+return--a return which he, in the following letter, written just
+before his departure, taught her to hope for with augmented
+impatience.
+
+
+"My Dear Rebecca,
+
+"I do not tell you I am sorry to part from you--you know I am--and
+you know all I have suffered since your father denied me permission
+to see you.
+
+"But perhaps you do not know the hopes I enjoy, and which bestow on
+me a degree of peace; and those I am eager to tell you.
+
+"I hope, Rebecca, to see you again; I hope to return to England, and
+overcome every obstacle to our marriage; and then, in whatever
+station we are placed, I shall consider myself as happy as it is
+possible to be in this world.  I feel a conviction that you would be
+happy also.
+
+"Some persons, I know, estimate happiness by fine houses, gardens,
+and parks; others by pictures, horses, money, and various things
+wholly remote from their own species; but when I wish to ascertain
+the real felicity of any rational man, I always inquire WHOM HE HAS
+TO LOVE.  If I find he has nobody, or does not love those he has,
+even in the midst of all his profusion of finery and grandeur, I
+pronounce him a being in deep adversity.  In loving you, I am
+happier than my cousin William; even though I am obliged to leave
+you for a time.
+
+"Do not be afraid you should grow old before I return; age can never
+alter you in my regard.  It is your gentle nature, your unaffected
+manners, your easy cheerfulness, your clear understanding, the
+sincerity of all your words and actions which have gained my heart;
+and while you preserve charms like these, you will be dearer to me
+with white hairs and a wrinkled face than any of your sex, who, not
+possessing all these qualities, possess the form and features of
+perfect beauty.
+
+"You will esteem me, too, I trust, though I should return on
+crutches with my poor father, whom I may be obliged to maintain by
+daily labour.
+
+"I shall employ all my time, during my absence, in the study of some
+art which may enable me to support you both, provided Heaven will
+bestow two such blessings on me.  In the cheering thought that it
+will be so, and in that only, I have the courage, my dear, dear
+Rebecca, to say to you
+
+"Farewell!  H. NORWYNNE."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+
+Before Henry could receive a reply to his letter, the fleet in which
+he sailed put to sea.
+
+By his absence, not only Rebecca was deprived of the friend she
+loved, but poor Agnes lost a kind and compassionate adviser.  The
+loss of her parents, too, she had to mourn; for they both sickened,
+and both died, in a short time after; and now wholly friendless in
+her little exile, where she could only hope for toleration, not
+being known, she was contending with suspicion, rebuffs,
+disappointments, and various other ills, which might have made the
+most rigorous of her Anfield persecutors feel compassion for her,
+could they have witnessed the throbs of her heart, and all the deep
+wounds there imprinted.
+
+Still, there are few persons whom Providence afflicts beyond the
+limits of ALL consolation; few cast so low as not to feel pride on
+CERTAIN occasions; and Agnes felt a comfort and a dignity in the
+thought, that she had both a mind and a body capable of sustaining
+every hardship, which her destiny might inflict, rather than submit
+to the disgrace of soliciting William's charity a second time.
+
+This determination was put to a variety of trials.  In vain she
+offered herself to the strangers of the village in which she was
+accidentally cast as a servant; her child, her dejected looks, her
+broken sentences, a wildness in her eye, a kind of bold despair
+which at times overspread her features, her imperfect story who and
+what she was, prejudiced all those to whom she applied; and, after
+thus travelling to several small towns and hamlets, the only
+employer she could obtain was a farmer; and the only employment to
+tend and feed his cattle while his men were in the harvest, tilling
+the ground, or at some other labour which required at the time
+peculiar expedition.
+
+Though Agnes was born of peasants, yet, having been the only child
+of industrious parents, she had been nursed with a tenderness and
+delicacy ill suited to her present occupation; but she endured it
+with patience; and the most laborious part would have seemed light
+could she have dismissed the reflection--what it was that had
+reduced her to such a state.
+
+Soon her tender hands became hard and rough, her fair skin burnt and
+yellow; so that when, on a Sunday, she has looked in the glass, she
+has started back as if it were some other face she saw instead of
+her own.  But this loss of beauty gave her no regret--while William
+did not see her, it was indifferent to her, whether she were
+beautiful or hideous.  On the features of her child only, she now
+looked with joy; there, she fancied she saw William at every glance,
+and, in the fond imagination, felt at times every happiness short of
+seeing him.
+
+By herding with the brute creation, she and her child were allowed
+to live together; and this was a state she preferred to the society
+of human creatures, who would have separated her from what she loved
+so tenderly.  Anxious to retain a service in which she possessed
+such a blessing, care and attention to her humble office caused her
+master to prolong her stay through all the winter; then, during the
+spring, she tended his yeaning sheep; in the summer, watched them as
+they grazed; and thus season after season passed, till her young son
+could afford her assistance in her daily work.
+
+He now could charm her with his conversation as well as with his
+looks:  a thousand times in the transports of parental love she has
+pressed him to her bosom, and thought, with an agony of horror, upon
+her criminal, her mad intent to destroy what was now so dear, so
+necessary to her existence.
+
+Still the boy grew up more and more like his father.  In one
+resemblance alone he failed; he loved Agnes with an affection
+totally distinct from the pitiful and childish gratification of his
+own self-love; he never would quit her side for all the tempting
+offers of toys or money; never would eat of rarities given to him
+till Agnes took a part; never crossed her will, however
+contradictory to his own; never saw her smile that he did not laugh;
+nor did she ever weep, but he wept too.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+
+From the mean subject of oxen, sheep, and peasants, we return to
+personages; i.e., persons of rank and fortune.  The bishop, who was
+introduced in the foregoing pages, but who has occupied a very small
+space there, is now mentioned again, merely that the reader may know
+he is at present in the same state as his writings--dying; and that
+his friend, the dean, is talked of as the most likely successor to
+his dignified office.
+
+The dean, most assuredly, had a strong friendship for the bishop,
+and now, most assuredly, wished him to recover; and yet, when he
+reflected on the success of his pamphlet a few years past, and of
+many which he had written since on the very same subject, he could
+not but think "that he had more righteous pretensions to fill the
+vacant seat of his much beloved and reverend friend (should fate
+ordain it to be vacated) than any other man;" and he knew that it
+would not take one moment from that friend's remaining life, should
+he exert himself, with all due management, to obtain the elevated
+station when be should he no more.
+
+In presupposing the death of a friend, the dean, like many other
+virtuous men, "always supposed him going to a better place."  With
+perfect resignation, therefore, he waited whatever change might
+happen to the bishop, ready to receive him with open arms if he
+recovered, or equally ready, in case of his dissolution, to receive
+his dignities.
+
+Lady Clementina displayed her sensibility and feeling for the sick
+prelate by the extravagance of hysteric fits; except at those times
+when she talked seriously with her husband upon the injustice which
+she thought would be done to him, and to his many pamphlets and
+sermons, if he did not immediately rise to episcopal honour.
+
+"Surely, dean," said she, "should you be disappointed upon this
+occasion, you will write no more books for the good of your
+country?"
+
+"Yes, I will," he replied; "but the next book I write for the good
+of my country shall be very different, nay the very reverse of those
+I have already written."
+
+"How, dean! would you show yourself changed?"
+
+"No, but I will show that my country is changed."
+
+"What! since you produced your last work; only six weeks ago!"
+
+"Great changes may occur in six days," replied the dean, with a
+threatening accent; "and if I find things HAVE taken a new and
+improper turn, I will be the first to expose it."
+
+"But before you act in this manner, my dear, surely you will wait--"
+
+"I will wait until the see is disposed of to another," said he.
+
+He did wait:  the bishop died.  The dean was promoted to the see of
+* * *, and wrote a folio on the prosperity of our happy country.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+
+While the bishop and his son were sailing before prosperous gales on
+the ocean of life, young Henry was contending with adverse winds,
+and many other perils, on the watery ocean; yet still, his
+distresses and dangers were less than those which Agnes had to
+encounter upon land.  The sea threatens an untimely death; the shore
+menaces calamities from which death is a refuge.
+
+The affections she had already experienced could just admit of
+aggravation:  the addition occurred.
+
+Had the good farmer, who made her the companion of his flocks and
+herds, lived till now, till now she might have been secure from the
+annoyance of human kind; but, thrown once more upon society, she was
+unfit to sustain the conflict of decorum against depravity.  Her
+master, her patron, her preserver, was dead; and hardly as she had
+earned the pittance she received from him, she found that it
+surpassed her power to obtain the like again.  Her doubtful
+character, her capacious mind, her unmethodical manners, were still
+badly suited to the nice precision of a country housewife; and as
+the prudent mistress of a family sneered at her pretensions, she, in
+her turn, scorned the narrow-minded mistress of a family.
+
+In her inquiries how to gain her bread free from the cutting
+reproaches of discretion, she was informed "that London was the only
+private corner, where guilt could be secreted undisturbed; and the
+only public place where, in open day, it might triumphantly stalk,
+attended by a chain of audacious admirers."
+
+There was a charm to the ear of Agnes in the name of London, which
+thrilled through her soul.  William lived in London; and she thought
+that, while she retired to some dark cellar with her offences, he
+probably would ride in state with his, and she at humble distance
+might sometimes catch a glance at him.
+
+As difficult as to eradicate insanity from a mind once possessed, so
+difficult it is to erase from the lover's breast the deep impression
+of a REAL affection.  Coercion may prevail for a short interval,
+still love will rage again.  Not all the ignominy which Agnes
+experienced in the place where she now was without a home--not the
+hunger which she at times suffered, and even at times saw her child
+endure--not every inducement for going to London, or motive for
+quitting her present desolate station, had the weight to affect her
+choice so much as--in London, she should live nearer William; in the
+present spot she could never hope to see him again, but there she
+might chance to pass him in the streets; she might pass his house
+every day unobserved--might inquire about him of his inferior
+neighbours, who would be unsuspicious of the cause of her curiosity.
+For these gratifications, she should imbibe new fortitude; for these
+she could bear all hardships which London threatened; and for these,
+she at length undertook a three weeks' journey to that perilous town
+on foot, cheering, as she walked along, her innocent and wearied
+companion.
+
+William--in your luxurious dwelling, possessed of coffers filled
+with gold, relations, friends, clients, joyful around you, delicious
+viands and rich wines upon your sumptuous board, voluptuousness
+displayed in every apartment of your habitation--contemplate, for a
+moment, Agnes, your first love, with her son, your first and only
+child, walking through frost and snow to London, with a foreboding
+fear on the mother that, when arrived, they both may perish for the
+want of a friend.
+
+But no sooner did Agnes find herself within the smoke of the
+metropolis than the old charm was renewed; and scarcely had she
+refreshed her child at the poor inn at which she stopped than she
+inquired how far it was to that part of the town where William, she
+knew, resided?
+
+She received for answer, "about two miles."
+
+Upon this information, she thought that she would keep in reserve,
+till some new sorrow befell her, the consolation of passing his door
+(perchance of seeing him) which must ever be an alleviation of her
+grief.  It was not long before she had occasion for more substantial
+comfort.  She soon found she was not likely to obtain a service
+here, more than in the country.  Some objected that she could not
+make caps and gowns; some that she could not preserve and pickle;
+some, that she was too young; some, that she was too pretty; and all
+declined accepting her, till at last a citizen's wife, on condition
+of her receiving but half the wages usually given, took her as a
+servant of all work.
+
+In romances, and in some plays, there are scenes of dark and
+unwholesome mines, wherein the labourer works, during the brightest
+day, by the aid of artificial light.  There are in London kitchens
+equally dismal though not quite so much exposed to damp and noxious
+vapours.  In one of these, underground, hidden from the cheerful
+light of the sun, poor Agnes was doomed to toil from morning till
+night, subjected to the command of a dissatisfied mistress; who, not
+estimating as she ought the misery incurred by serving her,
+constantly threatened her servants "with a dismission;" at which the
+unthinking wretches would tremble merely from the sound of the
+words; for to have reflected--to have considered what their purport
+was--"to be released from a dungeon, relieved from continual
+upbraidings, and vile drudgery," must have been a subject of
+rejoicing; and yet, because these good tidings were delivered as a
+menace, custom had made the hearer fearful of the consequence.  So,
+death being described to children as a disaster, even poverty and
+shame will start from it with affright; whereas, had it been
+pictured with its benign aspect, it would have been feared but by
+few, and many, many would welcome it with gladness.
+
+All the care of Agnes to please, her fear of offending, her toilsome
+days, her patience, her submission, could not prevail on her she
+served to retain her one hour after, by chance, she had heard "that
+she was the mother of a child; that she wished it should be kept a
+secret; and that she stole out now and then to visit him."
+
+Agnes, with swimming eyes and an almost breaking heart, left a
+place--where to have lived one hour would have plunged any fine lady
+in the deepest grief.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+
+Agnes was driven from service to service--her deficiency in the
+knowledge of a mere drudge, or her lost character, pursued her
+wherever she went--at length, becoming wholly destitute, she gladly
+accepted a place where the latter misfortune was not of the least
+impediment.
+
+In one of these habitations, where continual misery is dressed in
+continual smiles; where extreme of poverty is concealed by extreme
+of finery; where wine dispenses mirth only by dispensing
+forgetfulness; and where female beauty is so cheap, so complying,
+that, while it inveigles, it disgusts the man of pleasure:  in one
+of those houses, to attend upon its wretched inhabitants, Agnes was
+hired.  Her feelings of rectitude submitted to those of hunger; her
+principles of virtue (which the loss of virtue had not destroyed)
+received a shock when she engaged to be the abettor of vice, from
+which her delicacy, morality, and religion shrunk; but persons of
+honour and of reputation would not employ her:  was she then to
+perish?  That, perhaps, was easy to resolve; but she had a child to
+leave behind! a child, from whom to part for a day was a torment.
+Yet, before she submitted to a situation which filled her mind with
+a kind of loathing horror, often she paced up and down the street in
+which William lived, looked wistfully at his house, and sometimes,
+lost to all her finer feelings of independent pride, thought of
+sending a short petition to him; but, at the idea of a repulse, and
+of that frowning brow which she knew William COULD dart on her
+petitions, she preferred death, or the most degrading life, to the
+trial.
+
+It was long since that misfortune and dishonour had made her callous
+to the good or ill opinion of all the world, except HIS; and the
+fear of drawing upon her his increased contempt was still, at the
+crisis of applying, so powerful, that she found she dared not hazard
+a reproof from him even in the person of his father, whose rigour
+she had already more than once experienced, in the frequent harsh
+messages conveyed to her with the poor stipend for her boy.
+
+Awed by the rigid and pious character of the new bishop, the growing
+reputation, and rising honours of his son, she mistook the
+appearance of moral excellence for moral excellence itself, and felt
+her own unworthiness even to become the supplicant of those great
+men.
+
+Day after day she watched those parts of the town through which
+William's chariot was accustomed to drive; but to see the CARRIAGE
+was all to which she aspired; a feeling, not to be described, forced
+her to cast her eyes upon the earth as it drew near to her; and when
+it had passed, she beat her breast, and wept that she had not seen
+HIM.
+
+Impressed with the superiority of others, and her own abject and
+disgustful state, she cried, "Let me herd with those who won't
+despise me; let me only see faces whereon I can look without
+confusion and terror; let me associate with wretches like myself,
+rather than force my shame before those who are so good they can but
+scorn and hate me."
+
+With a mind thus languishing for sympathy in disgrace, she entered a
+servant in the house just now described.  There disregarding the
+fatal proverb against "EVIL COMMUNICATIONS," she had not the
+firmness to be an exception to the general rule.  That pliant
+disposition, which had yielded to the licentious love of William,
+stooped to still baser prostitution in company still more depraved.
+
+At first she shuddered at those practices she saw, at those
+conversations she heard, and blest herself that poverty, not
+inclination, had caused her to be a witness of such profligacy, and
+had condemned her in this vile abode to be a servant, rather than in
+the lower rank of mistress.  Use softened those horrors every day;
+at length self-defence, the fear of ridicule, and the hope of
+favour, induced her to adopt that very conduct from which her heart
+revolted.
+
+In her sorrowful countenance and fading charms there yet remained
+attraction for many visitors; and she now submitted to the mercenary
+profanations of love, more odious, as her mind had been subdued by
+its most captivating, most endearing joys.
+
+While incessant regret whispered to her "that she ought to have
+endured every calamity rather than this," she thus questioned her
+nice sense of wrong, "Why, why respect myself, since no other
+respects me?  Why set a value on my own feelings when no one else
+does?"
+
+Degraded in her own judgment, she doubted her own understanding when
+it sometimes told her she had deserved better treatment; for she
+felt herself a fool in comparison with her learned seducer and the
+rest who despised her.  "And why," she continued, "should I
+ungratefully persist to contemn women who alone are so kind as to
+accept me for a companion?  Why refuse conformity to their customs,
+since none of my sex besides will admit me to their society a
+partaker of virtuous habits?"
+
+In speculation these arguments appeared reasonable, and she pursued
+their dictates; but in the practice of the life in which she plunged
+she proved the fallacy of the system, and at times tore her hair
+with frantic sorrow, that she had not continued in the mid-way of
+guilt, and so preserved some portion of self-approbation, to
+recompense her in a small degree, for the total loss of the esteem
+of all the reputable world.
+
+But she had gone too far to recede.  Could she now have recalled her
+innocence, even that remnant she brought with her to London,
+experience would have taught her to have given up her child, lived
+apart from him, and once more with the brute creation, rather than
+to have mingled with her present society.  Now, alas! the time for
+flying was past; all prudent choice was over, even all reflection
+was gone for ever, or only admitted on compulsion, when it
+imperiously forced its way amidst the scenes of tumultuous mirth or
+licentious passion, of distracted riot, shameless effrontery, and
+wild intoxication, when it WOULD force its way, even through the
+walls of a brothel.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+
+Is there a reader so little experienced in the human heart, so
+forgetful of his own, as not to feel the possibility of the
+following fact?
+
+A series of uncommon calamities had been for many years the lot of
+the elder Henry; a succession of prosperous events had fallen to the
+share of his brother William.  The one was the envy, while the other
+had the compassion, of all who thought about them.  For the last
+twenty years, William had lived in affluence, bordering upon
+splendour, his friends, his fame, his fortune, daily increasing,
+while Henry throughout that very period had, by degrees, lost all he
+loved on earth, and was now existing apart from civilised society;
+and yet, during those twenty years, where William knew one happy
+moment, Henry tasted hundreds.
+
+That the state of the mind, and not outward circumstances, is the
+nice point on which happiness depends is but a trite remark; but
+that intellectual power should have the force to render a man
+discontented in extraordinary prosperity, such as that of the
+present bishop, or contented in his brother's extreme of adversity,
+requires illustration.
+
+The first great affliction to Henry was his brother's ingratitude;
+but reasoning on the frailty of man's nature, and the force of man's
+temptations, he found excuses for William, which made him support
+the treatment he had received with more tranquillity than William's
+proud mind supported his brother's marriage.
+
+Henry's indulgent disposition made him less angry with William than
+William was with him.
+
+The next affliction Henry suffered was the loss of his beloved wife.
+That was a grief which time and change of objects gradually
+alleviated; while William's wife was to him a permanent grief, her
+puerile mind, her talking vanity, her affected virtues, soured his
+domestic comfort, and, in time, he had suffered more painful moments
+from her society than his brother had experienced, even from the
+death of her he loved.
+
+In their children, indeed, William was the happier; his son was a
+pride and pleasure to him, while Henry never thought upon HIS
+without lamenting his loss with bitterest anguish.  But if the elder
+brother had in one instance the advantage, still Henry had a
+resource to overbalance this article.  Henry, as he lay imprisoned
+in his dungeon, and when, his punishment being remitted, he was
+again allowed to wander, and seek his subsistence where he would, in
+all his tedious walks and solitary resting-places, during all his
+lonely days and mournful nights, had THIS RESOURCE to console him -
+
+"I never did an injury to any one; never was harsh, severe, unkind,
+deceitful.  I did not merely confine myself to do my neighbour no
+harm; I strove to do him service."
+
+This was the resource that cheered his sinking heart amidst gloomy
+deserts and a barbarous people, lulled him to peaceful slumber in
+the hut of a savage hunter, and in the hearing of the lion's roar,
+at times impressed him with a sense of happiness, and made him
+contemplate with a longing hope the retribution of a future world.
+
+The bishop, with all his comforts, had no comfort like this; he had
+HIS solitary reflections too, but they were of a tendency the
+reverse of these.  "I used my brother ill," was a secret thought of
+most powerful influence.  It kept him waking upon his safe and
+commodious bed; was sure to recur with every misfortune by which he
+was threatened to make his fears still stronger, and came with
+invidious stabs, upon every successful event, to take from him a
+part of his joy.  In a word, it was CONSCIENCE which made Henry's
+years pass happier than William's.
+
+But though, comparatively with his brother, William was the less
+happy man, yet his self-reproach was not of such magnitude, for an
+offence of that atrocious nature as to banish from his breast a
+certain degree of happiness, a sensibility to the smiles of fortune;
+nor was Henry's self-acquittal of such exquisite kind as to chase
+away the feeling of his desolate condition.
+
+As he fished or hunted for his daily dinner, many a time in full
+view of his prey, a sudden burst of sorrow at his fate, a sudden
+longing for some dear associate, for some friend to share his
+thoughts, for some kind shoulder on which to lean his head, for some
+companion to partake of his repast, would make him instantaneously
+desist from his pursuit, cast him on the ground in a fit of anguish,
+till a shower of tears and his CONSCIENCE came to his relief.
+
+It was, after an exile of more than twenty-three years, when, on one
+sultry morning, after pleasant dreams during the night, Henry had
+waked with more than usual perception of his misery, that, sitting
+upon the beach, his wishes and his looks all bent on the sea towards
+his native land, he thought he saw a sail swelling before an
+unexpected breeze.
+
+"Sure I am dreaming still!" he cried.  "This is the very vessel I
+last night saw in my sleep!  Oh! what cruel mockery that my eyes
+should so deceive me!"
+
+Yet, though he doubted, he leaped upon his feet in transport, held
+up his hands, stretched at their length, in a kind of ecstatic joy,
+and, as the glorious sight approached, was near rushing into the sea
+to hail and meet it.
+
+For awhile hope and fear kept him in a state bordering on
+distraction.
+
+Now he saw the ship making for the shore, and tears flowed for the
+grateful prospect.  Now it made for another point, and he vented
+shrieks and groans from the disappointment.
+
+It was at those moments, while hope and fear thus possessed him,
+that the horrors of his abode appeared more than ever frightful.
+Inevitable afflictions must be borne; but that calamity which admits
+the expectation of relief, and then denies it, is insupportable.
+
+After a few minutes passed in dreadful uncertainty, which enhanced
+the wished-for happiness, the ship evidently drew near the land; a
+boat was launched from her, and while Henry, now upon his knees,
+wept and prayed fervently for the event, a youth sprang from the
+barge on the strand, rushed towards him, and falling on his neck,
+then at his feet, exclaimed, "My father! oh, my father!"
+
+William! dean! bishop! what are your honours, what your riches, what
+all your possessions, compared to the happiness, the transport
+bestowed by this one sentence, on your poor brother Henry?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+
+The crosses at land, and the perilous events at sea, had made it now
+two years since young Henry first took the vow of a man no longer
+dependent on the will of another, to seek his father.  His fatigues,
+his dangers, were well recompensed.  Instead of weeping over a
+silent grave, he had the inexpressible joy to receive a parent's
+blessing for his labours.  Yet, the elder Henry, though living, was
+so changed in person, that his son would scarcely have known him in
+any other than the favourite spot, which the younger (keeping in
+memory every incident of his former life) knew his father had always
+chosen for his morning contemplations; and where, previously to his
+coming to England, he had many a time kept him company.  It was to
+that particular corner of the island that the captain of the ship
+had generously ordered they should steer, out of the general route,
+to gratify the filial tenderness he expressed.  But scarcely had the
+interview between the father and the son taken place, than a band of
+natives, whom the appearance of the vessel had called from the woods
+and hills, came to attack the invaders.  The elder Henry had no
+friend with whom he wished to shake hands at his departure; the old
+negro servant who had assisted in young Henry's escape was dead; and
+he experienced the excessive joy of bidding adieu to the place,
+without one regret for all he left behind.
+
+On the night of that day, whose morning had been marked by peculiar
+sadness at the louring prospect of many exiled years to come, he
+slept on board an English vessel, with Englishmen his companions,
+and his son, his beloved son--who was still more dear to him for
+that mind which had planned and executed his rescue--this son, his
+attentive servant, and most affectionate friend.
+
+Though many a year passed, and many a rough encounter was destined
+to the lot of the two Henrys before they saw the shores of Europe,
+yet to them, to live or to die together was happiness enough:  even
+young Henry for a time asked for no greater blessing--but, the first
+glow of filial ardour over, he called to mind, "Rebecca lived in
+England;" and every exertion which love, founded on the highest
+reverence and esteem, could dictate, he employed to expedite a
+voyage, the end of which would be crowned by the sight of her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+
+
+The contrast of the state of happiness between the two brothers was
+nearly resembled by that of the two cousins--the riches of young
+William did not render him happy, nor did the poverty of young Henry
+doom him to misery.  His affectionate heart, as he had described in
+his letter to Rebecca, loved PERSONS rather than THINGS; and he
+would not have exchanged the society of his father, nor the prospect
+of her hand and heart, for all the wealth and splendour of which his
+cousin William was the master.
+
+He was right.  Young William, though he viewed with contempt Henry's
+inferior state, was far less happy than he.  His marriage had been
+the very counterpart of his father's; and having no child to create
+affection to his home, his study was the only relief from that
+domestic incumbrance called his wife; and though, by unremitting
+application there (joined to the influence of the potent relations
+of the woman he hated), he at length arrived at the summit of his
+ambitious desires, still they poorly repaid him for the sacrifice he
+had made in early life of every tender disposition.
+
+Striding through a list of rapid advancements in the profession of
+the law, at the age of thirty-eight he found himself raised to a
+preferment such as rarely falls to the share of a man of his short
+experience--he found himself invested with a judge's robe; and,
+gratified by the exalted office, curbed more than ever that aversion
+which her want of charms or sympathy had produced against the
+partner of his honours.
+
+While William had thus been daily rising in fortune's favour, poor
+Agnes had been daily sinking deeper and deeper under fortune's
+frowns:  till at last she became a midnight wanderer through the
+streets of London, soliciting, or rudely demanding, money of the
+passing stranger.  Sometimes, hunted by the watch, she affrighted
+fled from street to street, from portico to portico; and once,
+unknowing in her fear which way she hurried, she found her trembling
+knees had sunk, and her wearied head was reclined against the
+stately pillars that guarded William's door.
+
+At the sudden recollection where she was, a swell of passion,
+composed of horror, of anger, of despair, and love, gave reanimated
+strength to her failing limbs; and, regardless of her pursuer's
+steps, she ran to the centre of the street, and, looking up to the
+windows of the mansion, cried, "Ah! there he sleeps in quiet, in
+peace, in ease--he does not even dream of me--he does not care how
+the cold pierces, or how the people persecute me!  He does not thank
+me for all the lavish love I have borne him and his child!  His
+heart is so hard, he does not even recollect that it was he who
+brought me to ruin."
+
+Had these miseries, common to the unhappy prostitute, been alone the
+punishment of Agnes--had her crimes and sufferings ended in distress
+like this, her story had not perhaps been selected for a public
+recital; for it had been no other than the customary history of
+thousands of her sex.  But Agnes had a destiny yet more fatal.
+Unhappily, she was endowed with a mind so sensibly alive to every
+joy, and every sorrow, to every mark of kindness, every token of
+severity, so liable to excess in passion, that, once perverted,
+there was no degree of error from which it would revolt.
+
+Taught by the conversation of the dissolute poor, with whom she now
+associated, or by her own observation on the worldly reward of
+elevated villainy, she began to suspect "that dishonesty was only
+held a sin to secure the property of the rich; and that, to take
+from those who did not want, by the art of stealing, was less guilt,
+than to take from those who did want, by the power of the law."
+
+By false yet seducing opinions such as these, her reason estranged
+from every moral and religious tie, her necessities urgent, she
+reluctantly accepted the proposal to mix with a band of practised
+sharpers and robbers, and became an accomplice in negotiating bills
+forged on a country banker.
+
+But though ingenious in arguments to excuse the deed before its
+commission, in the act she had ever the dread of some
+incontrovertible statement on the other side of the question.
+Intimidated by this apprehension, she was the veriest bungler in her
+vile profession--and on the alarm of being detected, while every one
+of her confederates escaped and absconded, she alone was seized--was
+arrested for issuing notes they had fabricated, and committed to the
+provincial jail, about fifty miles from London, where the crime had
+been perpetrated, to take her trial for--life or death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+
+The day at length is come on which Agnes shall have a sight of her
+beloved William!  She who has watched for hours near his door, to
+procure a glimpse of him going out, or returning home; who has
+walked miles to see his chariot pass:  she now will behold him, and
+he will see her by command of the laws of their country.  Those
+laws, which will deal with rigour towards her, are in this one
+instance still indulgent.
+
+The time of the assizes, at the county town in which she is
+imprisoned, is arrived--the prisoners are demanded at the shire-
+hall--the jail doors are opened--they go in sad procession--the
+trumpet sounds--it speaks the arrival of the judge--and that judge
+is William!
+
+The day previous to her trial, Agnes had read, in the printed
+calendar of the prisoners, his name as the learned justice before
+whom she was to appear.  For a moment she forgot her perilous state
+in the excess of joy which the still unconquerable love she bore to
+him permitted her to taste even on the brink of the grave!  After-
+reflection made her check those worldly transports, as unfit for the
+present solemn occasion.  But alas! to her, earth and William were
+so closely united that, till she forsook the one, she could never
+cease to think, without the contending passions of hope, of fear, of
+joy, of love, of shame, and of despair, on the other.
+
+Now fear took place of her first immoderate joy--she feared that,
+although much changed in person since he had seen her, and her real
+name now added to many an ALIAS--yet she feared that same well-known
+glance of the eye, turn of the action, or accent of speech, might
+recall her to his remembrance; and at that idea shame overcame all
+her other sensations--for still she retained pride, in respect to
+HIS opinion, to wish him not to know Agnes was that wretch she felt
+she was!  Once a ray of hope beamed on her, "that if he knew her, he
+recognised her, he might possibly befriend her cause;" and life
+bestowed through William's friendship seemed a precious object!  But
+again, that rigorous honour she had often heard him boast, that
+firmness to his word, of which she had fatal experience, taught her
+to know, he would not for any unproper compassion, any unmanly
+weakness, forfeit his oath of impartial justice.
+
+In meditations such as these she passed the sleepless night.  When,
+in the morning, she was brought to the bar, and her guilty hand held
+up before the righteous judgment seat of William--imagination could
+not form two figures, or two situations more incompatible with the
+existence of former familiarity, than the judge and the culprit--and
+yet, these very persons had passed together the most blissful
+moments that either ever tasted!  Those hours of tender dalliance
+were now present to HER mind.  HIS thoughts were more nobly employed
+in his high office; nor could the haggard face, hollow eye,
+desponding countenance, and meagre person of the poor prisoner, once
+call to his memory, though her name was uttered among a list of
+others which she had assumed, his former youthful, lovely Agnes!
+
+She heard herself arraigned with trembling limbs and downcast looks;
+and many witnesses had appeared against her before she ventured to
+lift her eyes up to her awful judge.  She then gave one fearful
+glance, and discovered William, unpitying but beloved William, in
+every feature!  It was a face she had been used to look on with
+delight, and a kind of absent smile of gladness now beamed on her
+poor wan visage.
+
+When every witness on the part of the prosecutor had been examined,
+the judge addressed himself to her--"What defence have you to make?"
+
+It was William spoke to Agnes!  The sound was sweet; the voice was
+mild, was soft, compassionate, encouraging!  It almost charmed her
+to a love of life!--not such a voice as when William last addressed
+her; when he left her undone and pregnant, vowing never to see or
+speak to her more.
+
+She could have hung upon the present words for ever!  She did not
+call to mind that this gentleness was the effect of practice, the
+art of his occupation:  which, at times, is but a copy, by the
+unfeeling, from his benevolent brethren of the bench.  In the
+present judge, tenderness was not designed for the consolation of
+the culprit, but for the approbation of the auditors.
+
+There were no spectators, Agnes, by your side when last he parted
+from you:  if there had, the awful William had been awed to marks of
+pity.
+
+Stunned with the enchantment of that well-known tongue directed to
+her, she stood like one just petrified--all vital power seemed
+suspended.
+
+Again he put the question, and with these additional sentences,
+tenderly and emphatically delivered--"Recollect yourself.  Have you
+no witnesses?  No proof in your behalf?"
+
+A dead silence followed these questions.
+
+He then mildly, but forcibly, added--"What have you to say?"
+
+Here a flood of tears burst from her eyes, which she fixed earnestly
+upon him, as if pleading for mercy, while she faintly articulated,
+
+"Nothing, my lord."
+
+After a short pause, he asked her, in the same forcible but
+benevolent tone -
+
+"Have you no one to speak to your character?"  The prisoner answered
+-
+
+A second gush of tears followed this reply, for she called to mind
+by WHOM her character had first been blasted.
+
+He summed up the evidence; and every time he was compelled to press
+hard upon the proofs against her she shrunk, and seemed to stagger
+with the deadly blow; writhed under the weight of HIS minute
+justice, more than from the prospect of a shameful death.
+
+The jury consulted but a few minutes.  The verdict was -
+
+"Guilty."
+
+She heard it with composure.
+
+But when William placed the fatal velvet on his head, and rose to
+pronounce her sentence, she started with a kind of convulsive
+motion; retreated a step or two back, and, lifting up her hands,
+with a scream exclaimed -
+
+"Oh! not from YOU!"
+
+The piercing shriek which accompanied these words prevented their
+being heard by part of the audience; and those who heard them
+thought little of their meaning, more than that they expressed her
+fear of dying.
+
+Serene and dignified, as if no such exclamation had been uttered,
+William delivered the fatal speech, ending with, "Dead, dead, dead."
+
+She fainted as he closed the period, and was carried back to prison
+in a swoon; while he adjourned the court to go to dinner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+
+
+If, unaffected by the scene he had witnessed, William sat down to
+dinner with an appetite, let not the reader conceive that the most
+distant suspicion had struck his mind of his ever having seen, much
+less familiarly known, the poor offender whom he had just condemned.
+Still this forgetfulness did not proceed from the want of memory for
+Agnes.  In every peevish or heavy hour passed with his wife, he was
+sure to think of her:  yet it was self-love, rather than love of
+HER, that gave rise to these thoughts:  he felt the lack of female
+sympathy and tenderness to soften the fatigue of studious labour; to
+sooth a sullen, a morose disposition--he felt he wanted comfort for
+himself, but never once considered what were the wants of Agnes.
+
+In the chagrin of a barren bed, he sometimes thought, too, even on
+the child that Agnes bore him; but whether it were male or female,
+whether a beggar in the streets, or dead--various and important
+public occupations forbade him to waste time to inquire.  Yet the
+poor, the widow, and the orphan, frequently shared William's
+ostentatious bounty.  He was the president of many excellent
+charities, gave largely, and sometimes instituted benevolent
+societies for the unhappy; for he delighted to load the poor with
+obligations, and the rich with praise.
+
+There are persons like him, who love to do every good but that which
+their immediate duty requires.  There are servants who will serve
+every one more cheerfully than their masters; there are men who will
+distribute money liberally to all except their creditors; and there
+are wives who will love all mankind better than their husbands.
+Duty is a familiar word which has little effect upon an ordinary
+mind; and as ordinary minds make a vast majority, we have acts of
+generosity, valour, self-denial, and bounty, where smaller pains
+would constitute greater virtues.  Had William followed the COMMON
+dictates of charity; had he adopted private pity, instead of public
+munificence; had he cast an eye at home before he sought abroad for
+objects of compassion, Agnes had been preserved from an ignominious
+death, and he had been preserved from--REMORSE--the tortures of
+which he for the first time proved, on reading a printed sheet of
+paper, accidentally thrown in his way, a few days after he had left
+the town in which he had condemned her to die.
+
+
+"March the 12th, 179-
+
+"The last dying words, speech, and confession; birth, parentage, and
+education; life, character, and behaviour, of Agnes Primrose, who
+was executed this morning, between the hours of ten and twelve,
+pursuant to the sentence passed upon her by the Honourable Justice
+Norwynne.
+
+"Agnes Primrose was born of honest parents, in the village of
+Anfield, in the county of--"  [William started at the name of the
+village and county]; "but being led astray by the arts and flattery
+of seducing man, she fell from the paths of virtue, and took to bad
+company, which instilled into her young heart all their evil ways,
+and at length brought her to this untimely end.  So she hopes her
+death will be a warning to all young persons of her own sex, how
+they listen to the praises and courtship of young men, especially of
+those who are their betters; for they only court to deceive.  But
+the said Agnes freely forgives all persons who have done her injury,
+or given her sorrow, from the young man who first won her heart to
+the jury who found her guilty, and the judge who condemned her to
+death.
+
+"And she acknowledges the justice of her sentence, not only in
+respect of the crime for which she suffers, but in regard to many
+other heinous sins of which she has been guilty, more especially
+that of once attempting to commit a murder upon her own helpless
+child, for which guilt she now considers the vengeance of God has
+overtaken her, to which she is patiently resigned, and departs in
+peace and charity with all the world, praying the Lord to have mercy
+on her parting soul."
+
+"POSTSCRIPT TO THE CONFESSION.
+
+"So great was this unhappy woman's terror of death, and the awful
+judgment that was to follow, that when sentence was pronounced upon
+her, she fell into a swoon, from that into convulsions, from which
+she never entirely recovered, but was delirious to the time of her
+execution, except that short interval in which she made her
+confession to the clergyman who attended her.  She has left one
+child, a youth about sixteen, who has never forsaken his mother
+during all the time of her imprisonment, but waited on her with true
+filial duty; and no sooner was her fatal sentence passed than he
+began to droop, and now lies dangerously ill near the prison from
+which she is released by death.  During the loss of her senses, the
+said Agnes Primrose raved continually on this child; and, asking for
+pen, ink, and paper, wrote an incoherent petition to the judge
+recommending the youth to his protection and mercy.  But
+notwithstanding this insanity, she behaved with composure and
+resignation when the fatal morning arrived in which she was to be
+launched into eternity.  She prayed devoutly during the last hour,
+and seemed to have her whole mind fixed on the world to which she
+was going.  A crowd of spectators followed her to the fatal spot,
+most of whom returned weeping at the recollection of the fervency
+with which she prayed, and the impression which her dreadful state
+seemed to make upon her."
+
+* * *
+
+No sooner had the name of "Anfield" struck William than a thousand
+reflections and remembrances flashed on his mind to give him full
+conviction whom it was he had judged and sentenced.  He recollected
+the sad remains of Agnes, such as he once had known her; and now he
+wondered how his thoughts could have been absent from an object so
+pitiable, so worthy of his attention, as not to give him even a
+suspicion who she was, either from her name, or from her person,
+during the whole trial!
+
+But wonder, astonishment, horror, and every other sensation was
+absorbed by--REMORSE: --it wounded, it stabbed, it rent his hard
+heart, as it would do a tender one.  It havocked on his firm
+inflexible mind, as it would on a weak and pliant brain!  Spirit of
+Agnes! look down, and behold all your wrongs revenged!  William
+feels--REMORSE.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+
+
+A few momentary cessations from the pangs of a guilty conscience
+were given to William, as soon as he had despatched a messenger to
+the jail in which Agnes had been communed, to inquire after the son
+she had left behind, and to give orders that immediate care should
+be taken of him.  He likewise charged the messenger to bring back
+the petition she had addressed to him during her supposed insanity;
+for he now experienced no trivial consolation in the thought that he
+might possibly have it in his power to grant her a request.
+
+The messenger returned with the written paper, which had been
+considered by the persons to whom she had intrusted it, as the
+distracted dictates of an insane mind; but proved to William, beyond
+a doubt, that she was perfectly in her senses.
+
+
+"TO LORD CHIEF JUSTICE NORWYNNE.
+
+"My Lord,--I am Agnes Primrose, the daughter of John and Hannah
+Primrose, of Anfield.  My father and mother lived by the hill at the
+side of the little brook where you used to fish, and so first saw
+me.
+
+"Pray, my lord, have mercy on my sorrows; pity me for the first
+time, and spare my life.  I know I have done wrong.  I know it is
+presumption in me to dare to apply to you, such a wicked and mean
+wretch as I am; but, my lord, you once condescended to take notice
+of me; and though I have been very wicked since that time, yet if
+you would be so merciful as to spare my life, I promise to amend it
+for the future.  But if you think it proper I should die, I will be
+resigned; but then I hope, I beg, I supplicate, that you will grant
+my other petition.  Pray, pray, my lord, if you cannot pardon me, be
+merciful to the child I leave behind.  What he will do when I am
+gone, I don't know, for I have been the only friend he has had ever
+since he was born.  He was born, my lord, about sixteen years ago,
+at Anfield, one summer a morning, and carried by your cousin, Mr.
+Henry Norwynne, to Mr. Rymer's, the curate there; and I swore whose
+child he was before the dean, and I did not take a false oath.
+Indeed, indeed, my lord, I did not.
+
+"I will say no more for fear this should not come safe to your hand,
+for the people treat me as if I were mad; so I will say no more,
+only this, that, whether I live or die, I forgive everybody, and I
+hope everybody will forgive me.  And I pray that God will take pity
+on my son, if you refuse; but I hope you will not refuse.  "AGNES
+PRIMROSE."
+
+
+William rejoiced, as he laid down the petition, that she had asked a
+favour he could bestow; and hoped by his protection of the son to
+redress, in some degree, the wrongs he had done the mother.  He
+instantly sent for the messenger into his apartment, and impatiently
+asked, "If he had seen the boy, and given proper directions for his
+care."
+
+"I have given directions, sir, for his funeral."
+
+"How!" cried William.
+
+"He pined away ever since his mother was confined, and died two days
+after her execution."
+
+Robbed, by this news, of his only gleam of consolation--in the
+consciousness of having done a mortal injury for which he never now
+by any means could atone, he saw all his honours, all his riches,
+all his proud selfish triumphs fade before him!  They seemed like
+airy nothings, which in rapture he would exchange for the peace of a
+tranquil conscience!
+
+He envied Agnes the death to which he first exposed, then condemned,
+her.  He envied her even the life she struggled through from his
+neglect, and felt that his future days would be far less happy than
+her former existence.  He calculated with precision.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+
+
+The progressive rise of William and fall of Agnes had now occupied
+nearly the term of eighteen years.  Added to these, another year
+elapsed before the younger Henry completed the errand on which his
+heart was fixed, and returned to England.  Shipwreck, imprisonment,
+and other ills to which the poor and unfriended traveller is
+peculiarly exposed, detained the father and son in various remote
+regions until the present period; and, for the last fifteen years,
+denied them the means of all correspondence with their own country.
+
+The elder Henry was now past sixty years of age, and the younger
+almost beyond the prime of life.  Still length of time had not
+diminished, but rather had increased, their anxious longings for
+their native home.
+
+The sorrows, disappointments, and fatigues, which, throughout these
+tedious years, were endured by the two Henrys, are of that dull
+monotonous kind of suffering better omitted than described--mere
+repetitions of the exile's woe, that shall give place to the
+transporting joy of return from banishment!  Yet, often as the
+younger had reckoned, with impatient wishes, the hours which were
+passed distant from her he loved, no sooner was his disastrous
+voyage at an end, no sooner had his feet trod upon the shore of
+Britain, than a thousand wounding fears made him almost doubt
+whether it were happiness or misery he had obtained by his arrival.
+If Rebecca were living, he knew it must be happiness; for his heart
+dwelt with confidence on her faith, her unchanging sentiments.  "But
+death might possibly have ravished from his hopes what no mortal
+power could have done."  And thus the lover creates a rival in every
+ill, rather than suffer his fears to remain inanimate.
+
+The elder Henry had less to fear or to hope than his son; yet he
+both feared and hoped with a sensibility that gave him great
+anxiety.  He hoped his brother would receive him with kindness,
+after his long absence, and once more take his son cordially to his
+favour.  He longed impatiently to behold his brother; to see his
+nephew; nay, in the ardour of the renewed affection he just now
+felt, he thought even a distant view of Lady Clementina would be
+grateful to his sight!  But still, well remembering the pomp, the
+state, the pride of William, he could not rely on HIS affection, so
+much he knew that it depended on external circumstances to excite or
+to extinguish his love.  Not that he feared an absolute repulsion
+from his brother; but he feared, what, to a delicate mind, is still
+worse--reserved manners, cold looks, absent sentences, and all that
+cruel retinue of indifference with which those who are beloved so
+often wound the bosom that adores them.
+
+By inquiring of their countrymen (whom they met as they approached
+to the end of their voyage), concerning their relation the dean, the
+two Henrys learned that he was well, and had for some years past
+been exalted to the bishopric of--.  This news gave them joy, while
+it increased their fear of not receiving an affectionate welcome.
+
+The younger Henry, on his landing, wrote immediately to his uncle,
+acquainting him with his father's arrival in the most abject state
+of poverty; he addressed his letter to the bishop's country
+residence, where he knew, as it was the summer season, he would
+certainly be.  He and his father then set off on foot towards that
+residence--a palace!
+
+The bishop's palace was not situated above fifty miles from the port
+where they had landed; and at a small inn about three miles from the
+bishop's they proposed (as the letter to him intimated) to wait for
+his answer before they intruded into his presence.
+
+As they walked on their solitary journey, it was some small
+consolation that no creature knew them.
+
+"To be poor and ragged, father," the younger smilingly said, "is no
+disgrace, no shame, thank Heaven, where the object is not known."
+
+"True, my son," replied Henry; "and perhaps I feel myself much
+happier now, unknowing and unknown to all but you, than I shall in
+the presence of my fortunate brother and his family; for there,
+confusion at my ill success through life may give me greater pain
+than even my misfortunes have inflicted."
+
+After uttering this reflection which had preyed upon his mind, he
+sat down on the road side to rest his agitated limbs before he could
+proceed farther.  His son reasoned with him--gave him courage; and
+now his hopes preponderated, till, after two days' journey, on
+arriving at the inn where an answer from the bishop was expected, no
+letter, no message had been left.
+
+"He means to renounce us," said Henry, trembling, and whispering to
+his son.
+
+Without disclosing to the people of the house who they were, or from
+whom the letter or the message they inquired for was to have come,
+they retired, and consulted what steps they were now to pursue.
+
+Previously to his writing to the bishop, the younger Henry's heart,
+all his inclinations, had swayed him towards a visit to the village
+in which was his uncle's former country-seat, the beloved village of
+Anfield, but respect to him and duty to his father had made him
+check those wishes; now they revived again, and, with the image of
+Rebecca before his eyes, he warmly entreated his father to go with
+him to Anfield, at present only thirty miles distant, and thence
+write once more; then again wait the will of his uncle.
+
+The father consented to this proposal, even glad to postpone the
+visit to his dignified brother.
+
+After a scanty repast, such as they had been long inured to, they
+quitted the inn, and took the road towards Anfield.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+
+
+It was about five in the afternoon of a summer's day, that Henry and
+his son left the sign of the Mermaid to pursue their third day's
+journey:  the young man's spirits elated with the prospect of the
+reception he should meet from Rebecca:  the elder dejected at not
+having received a speedy welcome from his brother.
+
+The road which led to Anfield by the shortest course of necessity
+took our travellers within sight of the bishop's palace.  The
+turrets appeared at a distance; and on the sudden turn round the
+corner of a large plantation, the whole magnificent structure was at
+once exhibited before his brother's astonished eyes.  He was struck
+with the grandeur of the habitation; and, totally forgetting all the
+unkind, the contemptuous treatment he had ever received from its
+owner (like the same Henry in his earlier years), smiled with a kind
+of transport "that William was so great a man."
+
+After this first joyous sensation was over, "Let us go a little
+nearer, my son," said he; "no one will see us, I hope; or, if they
+should, you can run and conceal yourself; and not a creature will
+know me; even my brother would not know me thus altered; and I wish
+to take a little farther view of his fine house, and all his
+pleasure grounds."
+
+Young Henry, though impatient to be gone, would not object to his
+father's desire.  They walked forward between a shady grove and a
+purling rivulet, snuffed in odours from the jessamine banks, and
+listened to the melody of an adjoining aviary.
+
+The allurements of the spot seemed to enchain the elder Henry, and
+he at length sauntered to the very avenue of the dwelling; but, just
+as he had set his daring yet trembling feet upon the turf which led
+to the palace gates, he suddenly stopped, on hearing, as he thought,
+the village clock strike seven, which reminded him that evening drew
+on, and it was time to go.  He listened again, when he and his son,
+both together, said, "It is the toll of the bell before some
+funeral."
+
+The signals of death, while they humble the rich, inspire the poor
+with pride.  The passing bell gave Henry a momentary sense of
+equality; and he courageously stepped forward to the first winding
+of the avenue.
+
+He started back at the sight which presented itself.
+
+A hearse--mourning coaches--mutes--plumed horses--with every other
+token of the person's importance who was going to be committed to
+the earth.
+
+Scarcely had his terrified eyes been thus unexpectedly struck, when
+a coffin borne by six men issued from the gates, and was deposited
+in the waiting receptacle; while gentlemen in mourning went into the
+different coaches.
+
+A standard-bearer now appeared with an escutcheon, on which the keys
+and mitre were displayed.  Young Henry, upon this, pathetically
+exclaimed, "My uncle! it is my uncle's funeral!"
+
+Henry, his father, burst into tears.
+
+The procession moved along.
+
+The two Henrys, the only real mourners in the train, followed at a
+little distance--in rags, but in tears.
+
+The elder Henry's heart was nearly bursting; he longed to clasp the
+dear remains of his brother without the dread of being spurned for
+his presumption.  He now could no longer remember him either as the
+dean or bishop; but, leaping over that whole interval of pride and
+arrogance, called only to his memory William, such as he knew him
+when they lived at home together, together walked to London, and
+there together almost perished for want.
+
+They arrived at the church; and, while the coffin was placing in the
+dreary vault, the weeping brother crept slowly after to the hideous
+spot.  His reflections now fixed on a different point.  "Is this
+possible?" said he to himself.  "Is this the dean, whom I ever
+feared?  Is this the bishop, of whom within the present hour I stood
+in awe?  Is this William, whose every glance struck me with his
+superiority?  Alas, my brother! and is this horrid abode the reward
+for all your aspiring efforts?  Are these sepulchral trappings the
+only testimonies of your greatness which you exhibit to me on my
+return?  Did you foresee an end like this, while you treated me, and
+many more of your youthful companions, with haughtiness and
+contempt; while you thought it becoming of your dignity to shun and
+despise us?  Where is the difference now between my departed wife
+and you?  Or, if there be a difference, she, perchance, has the
+advantage.  Ah, my poor brother! for distinction in the other world,
+I trust, some of your anxious labours have been employed; for you
+are now of less importance in this than when you and I first left
+our native town, and hoped for nothing greater than to be suffered
+to exist."
+
+On their quitting the church, they inquired of the bystanders the
+immediate cause of the bishop's death, and heard he had been
+suddenly carried off by a raging fever.
+
+Young Henry inquired "if Lady Clementina was at the palace, or Mr.
+Norwynne?"
+
+"The latter is there," he was answered by a poor woman; "but Lady
+Clementina has been dead these four years."
+
+"Dead! dead!" cried young Henry.  "That worldly woman! quitted this
+world for ever!"
+
+"Yes," answered the stranger; "she caught cold by wearing a new-
+fashioned dress that did not half cover her, wasted all away, and
+died the miserablest object you ever heard of."
+
+The person who gave this melancholy intelligence concluded it with a
+hearty laugh, which would have surprised the two hearers if they had
+not before observed that amongst all the village crowd that attended
+to see this solemn show not one afflicted countenance appeared, not
+one dejected look, not one watery eye.  The pastor was scarcely
+known to his flock; it was in London that his meridian lay, at the
+levee of ministers, at the table of peers, at the drawing-rooms of
+the great; and now his neglected parishioners paid his indifference
+in kind.
+
+The ceremony over, and the mourning suite departed, the spectators
+dispersed with gibes and jeering faces from the sad spot; while the
+Henrys, with heavy hearts, retraced their steps back towards the
+palace.  In their way, at the crossing of a stile, they met a poor
+labourer returning from his day's work, who, looking earnestly at
+the throng of persons who were leaving the churchyard, said to the
+elder Henry--"Pray, master, what are all them folk gathered together
+about?  What's the matter there?"
+
+"There has been a funeral," replied Henry.
+
+"Oh, zooks! what! a burying!--ay, now I see it is; and I warrant of
+our old bishop--I heard he was main ill.  It is he they have been
+putting into the ground! is not it?"
+
+"Yes," said Henry.
+
+"Why, then, so much the better."
+
+"The better!" cried Henry.
+
+"Yes, master; though I should be loth to be where he is now."
+
+Henry started--"He was your pastor, man!"
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!  I should be sorry that my master's sheep, that are
+feeding yonder, should have no better pastor--the fox would soon get
+them all."
+
+"You surely did not know him!"
+
+"Not much, I can't say I did; for he was above speaking to poor
+folks, unless they did any mischief--and then he was sure to take
+notice of them."
+
+"I believe he meant well," said Henry.
+
+"As to what he meant, God only knows; but I know what he DID."
+
+"And what did he?"
+
+"Nothing at all for the poor."
+
+"If any of them applied to him, no doubt--"
+
+"Oh! they knew better than all that comes to; for if they asked for
+anything, he was sure to have them sent to Bridewell, or the
+workhouse.  He used to say, 'THE WORKHOUSE WAS A FINE PLACE FOR A
+POOR MAN--THE FOOD GOOD ENOUGH, AND ENOUGH OF IT;' yet he kept a
+dainty table himself.  His dogs, too, fared better than we poor.  He
+was vastly tender and good to all his horses and dogs, I WILL say
+that for him; and to all brute beasts:  he would not suffer them to
+be either starved or struck--but he had no compassion for his
+fellow-creatures."
+
+"I am sensible you do him wrong."
+
+"That HE is the best judge of by this time.  He has sent many a poor
+man to the house of correction; and now 'tis well if he has not got
+a place there himself.  Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+The man was walking away, when Henry called to him--"Pray can you
+tell me if the bishop's son be at the palace?"
+
+"Oh, yes! you'll find master there treading in the old man's shoes,
+as proud as Lucifer."
+
+"Has he any children?"
+
+"No, thank God!  There's been enow of the name; and after the son is
+gone, I hope we shall have no more of the breed."
+
+"Is Mrs. Norwynne, the son's wife, at the palace?"
+
+"What, master! did not you know what's become of her?"
+
+"Any accident?--"
+
+"Ha, ha, ha! yes.  I can't help laughing--why, master, she made a
+mistake, and went to another man's bed--and so her husband and she
+were parted--and she has married the other man."
+
+"Indeed!" cried Henry, amazed.
+
+"Ay, indeed; but if it had been my wife or yours, the bishop would
+have made her do penance in a white sheet; but as it was a lady,
+why, it was all very well--and any one of us, that had been known to
+talk about it, would have been sent to Bridewell straight.  But we
+DID talk, notwithstanding."
+
+The malicious joy with which the peasant told this story made Henry
+believe (more than all the complaints the man uttered) that there
+had been want of charity and Christian deportment in the whole
+conduct of the bishop's family.  He almost wished himself back on
+his savage island, where brotherly love could not be less than it
+appeared to be in this civilised country.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+
+
+As Henry and his son, after parting from the poor labourer,
+approached the late bishop's palace, all the charms of its
+magnificence, its situation, which, but a few hours before, had
+captivated the elder Henry's mind, were vanished; and, from the
+mournful ceremony he had since been witness of, he now viewed this
+noble edifice but as a heap of rubbish piled together to fascinate
+weak understandings, and to make even the wise and religious man, at
+times, forget why he was sent into this world.
+
+Instead of presenting themselves to their nephew and cousin, they
+both felt an unconquerable reluctance to enter under the superb, the
+melancholy, roof.  A bank, a hedge, a tree, a hill, seemed, at this
+juncture, a pleasanter shelter, and each felt himself happy in being
+a harmless wanderer on the face of the earth rather than living in
+splendour, while the wants, the revilings of the hungry and the
+naked were crying to Heaven for vengeance.
+
+They gave a heartfelt sigh to the vanity of the rich and the
+powerful; and pursued a path where they hoped to meet with virtue
+and happiness.
+
+They arrived at Anfield.
+
+Possessed by apprehensions, which his uncle's funeral had served to
+increase, young Henry, as he entered the well-known village, feared
+every sound he heard would convey information of Rebecca's death.
+He saw the parsonage house at a distance, but dreaded to approach
+it, lest Rebecca should no longer be an inhabitant.  His father
+indulged him in the wish to take a short survey of the village, and
+rather learn by indirect means, by observation, his fate, than hear
+it all at once from the lips of some blunt relater.
+
+Anfield had undergone great changes since Henry left it.  He found
+some cottages built where formerly there were none; and some were no
+more where he had frequently called, and held short conversations
+with the poor who dwelt in them.  Amongst the latter number was the
+house of the parents of Agnes--fallen to the ground!  He wondered to
+himself where that poor family had taken up their abode.  Henry, in
+a kinder world!
+
+He once again cast a look at the old parsonage house:  his
+inquisitive eye informed him there no alteration had taken place
+externally; but he feared what change might be within.
+
+At length he obtained the courage to enter the churchyard in his way
+to it.  As he slowly and tremblingly moved along, he stopped to read
+here and there a gravestone; as mild, instructive conveyers of
+intelligence, to which he could attend with more resignation, than
+to any other reporter.
+
+The second stone he came to he found was erected To the memory of
+the Reverend Thomas Rymer, Rebecca's father.  He instantly called to
+mind all that poor curate's quick sensibility of wrong towards
+HIMSELF; his unbridled rage in consequence; and smiled to think; how
+trivial now appeared all for which he gave way to such excess of
+passion!
+
+But, shocked at the death of one so near to her he loved, he now
+feared to read on; and cast his eyes from the tombs accidentally to
+the church.  Through the window of the chancel, his sight was struck
+with a tall monument of large dimensions, raised since his
+departure, and adorned with the finest sculpture.  His curiosity was
+excited--he drew near, and he could distinguish (followed by elegant
+poetic praise) "To the memory of John Lord Viscount Bendham."
+
+Notwithstanding the solemn, melancholy, anxious bent of Henry's
+mind, he could not read these words, and behold this costly fabric,
+without indulging a momentary fit of indignant laughter.
+
+"Are sculpture and poetry thus debased," he cried, "to perpetuate
+the memory of a man whose best advantage is to be forgotten; whose
+no one action merits record, but as an example to be shunned?"
+
+An elderly woman, leaning on her staff, now passed along the lane by
+the side of the church.  The younger Henry accosted her, and
+ventured to inquire "where the daughters of Mr. Rymer, since his
+death, were gone to live?"
+
+"We live," she returned, "in that small cottage across the clover
+field."
+
+Henry looked again, and thought he had mistaken the word WE; for he
+felt assured that he had no knowledge of the person to whom he
+spoke.
+
+But she knew him, and, after a pause, cried--"Ah!  Mr. Henry, you
+are welcome back.  I am heartily glad to see you, and my poor sister
+Rebecca will go out of her wits with joy."
+
+"Is Rebecca living, and will be glad to see me?" he eagerly asked,
+while tears of rapture trickled down his face.  "Father," he
+continued in his ecstasy, "we are now come home to be completely
+happy; and I feel as if all the years I have been away were but a
+short week; and as if all the dangers I have passed had been light
+as air.  But is it possible," he cried to his kind informer, "that
+you are one of Rebecca's sisters?"
+
+Well might he ask; for, instead of the blooming woman of seven-and-
+twenty he had left her, her colour was gone, her teeth impaired, her
+voice broken.  She was near fifty.
+
+"Yes, I am one of Mr. Rymer's daughters," she replied.
+
+"But which?" said Henry.
+
+"The eldest, and once called the prettiest," she returned:  "though
+now people tell me I am altered; yet I cannot say I see it myself."
+
+"And are you all living?" Henry inquired.
+
+"All but one:  she married and died.  The other three, on my
+father's death, agreed to live together, and knit or spin for our
+support.  So we took that small cottage, and furnished it with some
+of the parsonage furniture, as you shall see; and kindly welcome I
+am sure you will be to all it affords, though that is but little."
+
+As she was saying this, she led him through the clover field towards
+the cottage.  His heart rebounded with joy that Rebecca was there:
+yet, as he walked he shuddered at the impression which he feared the
+first sight of her would make.  He feared, what he imagined (till he
+had seen this change in her sister) he should never heed.  He feared
+Rebecca would look no longer young.  He was not yet so far master
+over all his sensual propensities as, when the trial came, to think
+he could behold her look like her sister, and not give some evidence
+of his disappointment.
+
+His fears were vain.  On entering the gate of their little garden,
+Rebecca rushed from the house to meet them:  just the same Rebecca
+as ever.
+
+It was her mind, which beaming on her face, and actuating her every
+motion, had ever constituted all her charms:  it was her mind which
+had gained her Henry's affection.  That mind had undergone no
+change; and she was the self-same woman he had left her.
+
+He was entranced with joy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+
+
+The fare which the Henrys partook at the cottage of the female
+Rymers was such as the sister had described--mean, and even scanty;
+but this did not in the least diminish the happiness they received
+in meeting, for the first time since their arrival in England, human
+beings who were glad to see them.
+
+At a stinted repast of milk and vegetables, by the glimmering light
+of a little brushwood on the hearth, they yet could feel themselves
+comparatively blest, while they listened to the recital of
+afflictions which had befallen persons around that very
+neighbourhood, for whom every delicious viand had been procured to
+gratify the taste, every art devised to delight the other senses.
+
+It was by the side of this glimmering fire that Rebecca and her
+sisters told the story of poor Agnes's fate, and of the thorn it had
+for ever planted in William's bosom--of his reported sleepless,
+perturbed nights; and his gloomy, or half-distracted days; when in
+the fullness of REMORSE, he has complained--"of a guilty conscience!
+of the weariness attached to a continued prosperity! the misery of
+wanting an object of affection."
+
+They told of Lord Bendham's death from the effects of intemperance;
+from a mass of blood infected by high-seasoned dishes, mixed with
+copious draughts of wine--repletion of food and liquor, not less
+fatal to the existence of the rich than the want of common
+sustenance to the lives of the poor.
+
+They told of Lady Bendham's ruin, since her lord's death, by gaming.
+They told, "that now she suffered beyond the pain of common
+indigence by the cutting triumph of those whom she had formerly
+despised."
+
+They related (what has been told before) the divorce of William, and
+the marriage of his wife with a libertine; the decease of Lady
+Clementina, occasioned by that incorrigible vanity which even old
+age could not subdue.
+
+After numerous other examples had been recited of the dangers, the
+evils that riches draw upon their owner; the elder Henry rose from
+his chair, and embracing Rebecca and his son, said--"How much
+indebted are we to Providence, my children, who, while it inflicts
+poverty, bestows peace of mind; and in return for the trivial grief
+we meet in this world, holds out to our longing hopes the reward of
+the next!"
+
+Not only resigned, but happy in their station, with hearts made
+cheerful rather than dejected by attentive meditation, Henry and his
+son planned the means of their future support, independent of their
+kinsman William--nor only of him, but of every person and thing but
+their own industry.
+
+"While I have health and strength," cried the old man, and his son's
+looks acquiesced in all the father said, "I will not take from any
+one in affluence what only belongs to the widow, the fatherless, and
+the infirm; for to such alone, by Christian laws--however custom may
+subvert them--the overplus of the rich is due."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+
+
+By forming a humble scheme for their remaining life, a scheme
+depending upon their OWN exertions alone, on no light promises of
+pretended friends, and on no sanguine hopes of certain success, but
+with prudent apprehension, with fortitude against disappointment,
+Henry, his son, and Rebecca (now his daughter), found themselves, at
+the end of one year, in the enjoyment of every comfort with such
+distinguished minds knew how to taste.
+
+Exempt both from patronage and from control--healthy--alive to every
+fruition with which Nature blesses the world; dead to all out of
+their power to attain, the works of art--susceptible of those
+passions with endear human creatures one to another, insensible to
+those which separate man from man--they found themselves the
+thankful inhabitants of a small house, or hut, placed on the borders
+of the sea.
+
+Each morning wakes the father and the son to cheerful labour in
+fishing, or the tending of a garden, the produce of which they carry
+to the next market town.  The evening sends them back to their home
+in joy:  where Rebecca meets them at the door, affectionately boasts
+of the warm meal that is ready, and heightens the charm of
+conversation with her taste and judgment.
+
+It was after a supper of roots from their garden, poultry that
+Rebecca's hand had reared, and a jug brewed by young Henry, that the
+following discourse took place.
+
+"My son," said the elder Henry, "where under Heaven shall three
+persons be met together happy as we three are?  It is the want of
+industry, or the want of reflection, which makes the poor
+dissatisfied.  Labour gives a value to rest which the idle can never
+taste; and reflection gives to the mind a degree of content which
+the unthinking never can know."
+
+"I once," replied the younger Henry, "considered poverty a curse;
+but after my thoughts became enlarged, and I had associated for
+years with the rich, and now mix with the poor, my opinion has
+undergone a total change; for I have seen, and have enjoyed, more
+real pleasure at work with my fellow-labourers, and in this cottage,
+than ever I beheld, or experienced, during my abode at my uncle's;
+during all my intercourse with the fashionable and the powerful of
+this world."
+
+"The worst is," said Rebecca, "the poor have not always enough."
+
+"Who has enough?" asked her husband.  "Had my uncle?  No:  he hoped
+for more; and in all his writings sacrificed his duty to his
+avarice.  Had his son enough, when he yielded up his honour, his
+domestic peace, to gratify his ambition?  Had Lady Bendham enough,
+when she staked all she had, in the hope of becoming richer?  Were
+we, my Rebecca, of discontented minds, we have now too little.  But
+conscious, from observation and experience, that the rich are not so
+happy as ourselves, we rejoice in our lot."
+
+The tear of joy which stole from her eye expressed, more than his
+words, a state of happiness.
+
+He continued:  "I remember, when I first came a boy to England, the
+poor excited my compassion; but now that my judgment is matured, I
+pity the rich.  I know that in this opulent kingdom there are nearly
+as many persons perishing through intemperance as starving with
+hunger; there are as many miserable in the lassitude of having
+nothing to do as there are of those bowed down to the earth with
+hard labour; there are more persons who draw upon themselves
+calamity by following their own will than there are who experience
+it by obeying the will of another.  Add to this, that the rich are
+so much afraid of dying they have no comfort in living."
+
+"There the poor have another advantage," said Rebecca; "for they may
+defy not only death, but every loss by sea or land, as they have
+nothing to lose."
+
+"Besides," added the elder Henry, "there is a certain joy of the
+most gratifying kind that the human mind is capable of tasting,
+peculiar to the poor, and of which the rich can but seldom
+experience the delight."
+
+"What can that be?" cried Rebecca.
+
+"A kind word, a benevolent smile, one token of esteem from the
+person whom we consider as our superior."
+
+To which Rebecca replied, "And the rarity of obtaining such a token
+is what increases the honour."
+
+"Certainly," returned young Henry, "and yet those in poverty,
+ungrateful as they are, murmur against that Government from which
+they receive the blessing."
+
+"But this is the fault of education, of early prejudice," said the
+elder Henry.  "Our children observe us pay respect, even reverence,
+to the wealthy, while we slight or despise the poor.  The impression
+thus made on their minds in youth is indelible during the more
+advanced periods of life; and they continue to pine after riches,
+and lament under poverty:  nor is the seeming folly wholly destitute
+of reason; for human beings are not yet so deeply sunk in voluptuous
+gratification, or childish vanity, as to place delight in any
+attainment which has not for its end the love or admiration of their
+fellow-beings."
+
+"Let the poor, then," cried the younger Henry, "no more be their own
+persecutors--no longer pay homage to wealth--instantaneously the
+whole idolatrous worship will cease--the idol will be broken!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Nature and Art, by Mrs Inchbald
+
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