diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69057-0.txt | 4436 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69057-0.zip | bin | 96597 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69057-h.zip | bin | 320894 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69057-h/69057-h.htm | 4578 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69057-h/images/bar.png | bin | 1138 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69057-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 253545 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 9014 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0384106 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69057 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69057) diff --git a/old/69057-0.txt b/old/69057-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 587b5f2..0000000 --- a/old/69057-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4436 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of John de Lancaster; vol. III., by -Richard Cumberland - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: John de Lancaster; vol. III. - -Author: Richard Cumberland - -Release Date: September 27, 2022 [eBook #69057] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. -III. *** - - - - - - JOHN DE LANCASTER. - - VOLUME III. - - - - - JOHN DE LANCASTER. - - A NOVEL. - - BY - - _RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ._ - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - VOL. III. - - _LONDON_: - - PRINTED FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. - - TEMPLE OF THE MUSES, - - FINSBURY-SQUARE. - - 1809. - - - - - Harding and Wright, Printers, St. John’s Square. - - - - - JOHN DE LANCASTER. - - - - - BOOK THE FIRST. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_The Arrival of the Party from Glen Morgan at Kray Castle._ - - -In the morning of the day after that, in which the miserable remains of -old Ap Rees’s hapless daughter were interred, the whole party under -orders of march for Kray Castle took their leave of Glen Morgan; the -Wilsons, father and son, with Amelia and Mrs. Jennings, in the coach, -and John, as usual, on his favourite horse; the equipage of Mr. De -Lancaster, properly attended, having arrived the day before. - -An apartment, commanding a very beautiful prospect, had been made ready -for Amelia, by the order and under the inspection of the presiding lady -of the castle, who with the taste and elegance natural to her had fitted -it with every thing, that could be devised for the use, ornament or -amusement of the fair visitor, who was destined to take possession of -it. In a very handsome dressing-room adjoining to the bed-chamber, and -communicating by a flight of steps with a flower-garden in high -cultivation, Cecilia had provided a selection of well-chosen books, nor -was music overlooked in the catalogue of accommodations there collected -and displayed. A young woman, daughter of an old domestic, and perfectly -qualified to wait upon the person of a lady, was instructed to consider -herself as specially and exclusively attached to the service of Miss -Jones. - -When the turret-bell gave the signal of an arrival, the servants of the -castle arranged themselves in the hall, nor was the harp silent upon the -entrance of our hero, conducting the fair stranger through their -respectful files to the saloon, where Cecilia received them. After they -had reposed themselves for a few minutes Mr. De Lancaster entered, and -with a gracious smile made his cordial salutations to each in turn, -reserving his embrace for John, last, but not least in his favour. - -When I see my family circle, he said, thus recruited by the return of my -former inmates, and graced with the accession of my new ones, I -experience a pleasurable conviction, that so long as Providence shall -indulge me with a capacity to enjoy these blessings, I should be, and I -am, devoutly thankful, although one member of our community has been -lately lost, and in the instance of the other, who is absent, I am -totally disappointed and defeated of all hope. To you, John De -Lancaster, my grandson, in whom I glory, I render thanks for the honour -you have conferred upon my name and family by your noble conduct in the -melancholy case of old Ap Rees’s daughter; and I am particularly -pleased, that your generous feelings for the injured did not betray you -into angry and intemperate personalities against the worthless wretch, -whom Heaven, not you, must call to his account. In his melancholy fate -we see an instance of the impolicy as well as the impiety of setting all -regard to character at defiance. The evil spirit hath not so -established his authority upon earth, that men will risque to be the -friends of him, who dares to be the foe of virtue. Innocence will not be -violated, nor justice braved and insulted with impunity. Where is there -one amongst all the favourites of fortune, to whom more happy -opportunities and brighter hopes of prosperity have been vouchsafed, -than to that young man, who is now become the object of our aversion and -contempt? What might he not have been? Alas, what is he now? - -I should be at a loss, said the elder Wilson, to answer that question, -because I could not find words in the language to express his crimes: -but murder of the blackest cast is amongst them, so that methinks is one -item, which has a pretty good right to cry out in the catalogue. Were I -on his court-martial, I would hang him without mercy, and I think I -could almost find in my heart to be present at his execution. - -Not you, not you, said Cecilia in an under-tone, and laid her gentle and -reproving hand upon his shoulder. - -She is right, resumed De Lancaster; she knows you better than you know -yourself. I am persuaded you are no otherwise a friend to punishment but -as it tends to reformation; that is not the property of hanging. The -poor Irish criminal, who before he was turned off ingenuously declared -it should be a warning to him in future, materially mistook his own -case. Excision is no cure: I much doubt, if that dreadful process ought -to be resorted to in any instance. - -Surely not, the colonel observed, except to save the body’s health: -with that view I myself submitted to the amputation of a limb. - -Secure the community, De Lancaster rejoined, against further danger from -the obnoxious member, and let no man’s extinguishing decree deprive his -guilty fellow creature of a chance for repentance and atonement. Here, -if I mistake not, we may let the question rest, and relieve the ladies -present from a painful disquisition. - -Upon John’s enquiring of his aunt, if she had any news of his father, -she informed him she had received a large pacquet, which was not -producible except in private; and in truth it was a journal, which not -only on account of its prolixity, but of its absurdity also, requires a -separate and exclusive chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_The Journal of Mr. Philip De Lancaster._ - - -INDD -“Dear Sister!” - -“When I arrived at Milford Haven I found a vessel bound to Liverpool, of -which I availed myself for a passage, as travelling in rough roads is -extremely troublesome. The master of the vessel was a very affable and -entertaining gentleman, and having been three times on a slaving voyage -to the coast of Africa, had acquired a perfect knowledge both of men and -manners. - -“When we dropped anchor at Liverpool, the crowd and hurry on the quay -appeared to me to be such, that I held it best to keep quiet in the -cabin of the brig, that brought me thither. Being in no capacity for -making enquiries in my own person about a passage to the South of -France, I did not like to manifest to my friendly captain a desire to -quit his company, which had become so agreeable to me; I thereupon came -to a determination of taking my chance with him, and when I understood -his destination to be for the fourth time to the coast of Africa, I -considered that one warm climate was like another, and warmth being what -I was in search of for Mrs. De Lancaster, he assured me that I should -find it there in perfection; this being ascertained I engaged for the -voyage, avoiding thereby all further trouble either to myself or him -about a matter of such absolute indifference. - -“It cost some time to ship the cargo he was taking out with him, and -gave me some annoyance whilst his crew were stowing it, as they are in -the habit of accompanying their work with certain noises, far from -melodious, and intelligible only to themselves. I had however a faculty -of sleeping pretty generally through it all, which made time, heavy at -the best, pass off very tolerably, till we set sail and took leave of -land and all its troublesome concerns. I understood from the people that -went on shore, that the town of Liverpool would have been highly worth -my seeing, and I have every reason to believe their information was -correct. - -“We commenced our voyage in pleasant weather; the captain’s conversation -was on many points entirely new and very edifying on that account. He -kept a liberal table, particularly in the article of salt-fish, of which -he had a considerable cargo on board; but when he had no longer a -supply of eggs to recommend his salt-fish, I must confess I was -sometimes puzzled how to make a dinner, especially as his soup had a -taste, to which I had not as yet familiarized my palate. - -“During our passage through the Bay of Biscay I perceived the vessel to -have considerable motion, but there is a lulling property in the -vacillation of a hammock, that promotes repose. - -“One day, when I was told we were off the coast of Portugal, and I began -to inhale odours from the shore, that were infinitely preferable to -those of the salt-fish in the ship, I had a curiosity for the first time -to visit the accommodations below, when I was tempted to ask my friend -the captain for what purpose he had parted off a portion of his hold -with iron gratings like those of a prison, and also why he had provided -such a collection of handcuffs, fetters and other instruments, that -seemed calculated both for torture and confinement. - -“He was a very communicative man, and did not hesitate to inform me, -that being a trader in negro slaves, it was necessary for him to be well -stored with all those conveniences for security’s sake; For how else, -said he, could I be sure that those savages, who have no understanding -of the happiness in store for them, would not rise upon us and cut all -our throats?--Though I immediately saw all the force of his reasoning, I -was a little staggered by the nature of his intelligence; and this I -think it probable that he perceived, for he was pleased to say, that, -being bound in the first instance for the Tagus, he would set me down -with his cargo of salt fish at Lisbon, if I had the least objection to -proceeding any further. I thanked him for his civility, and candidly -confessed that although I could have no objection to the removal of his -salt fish, I should think it ill exchanged for his cargo of slaves. I -accordingly accepted his alternative of leaving me at Lisbon; where, -though I should much regret the loss of his society, I might avail -myself of the opportunity of visiting the famous aqueduct of Alcantara, -of which I had heard so wonderful an account, and was anxious to enjoy -the sight. - -“The captain acknowledged that he had heard there was such a thing to be -seen in the near neighbourhood of Lisbon, but as he had no particular -taste for sights of that sort, he had not troubled himself to go out of -his way for it: he was pleased however in the politest manner to repeat -his offer of setting me down at Lisbon; observing to me with great -satisfaction, that as we were now happily arrived within the mouth of -the river we had nothing further to apprehend; for he could assure me we -were fairly out of all possibility of mischance, being in the track of -the safest navigation in the world. - -“In the very moment whilst this experienced navigator was cheering me -and himself with these pleasant assurances, a sudden shock of the vessel -threw him from his balance, and catching hold of me as he was falling, -we came together upon the deck with a considerable degree of violence. -As he fell upon me he had the advantage of being first upon his legs, -which he employed with all speed in rushing forwards to the forecastle, -whilst I was endeavouring to save myself from further bruises; for now -a cry ran through the ship, that we were stranded on a rock, and -sinking bodily. Of this information I had soon no reason to doubt, as -the water rushed in with great impetuosity. The crew were eagerly -employed in getting out the boat; but as I was persuaded that they, who -were at the trouble of launching, would naturally be the first to make -use of it, I persisted to keep my post, being resolved not to disgrace -the character of a true De Lancaster by betraying the least symptom of -impatience or alarm. - -“When I had stayed till the treading over-head had ceased, and the -captain along-side was calling upon me by name to come on board the boat -and save myself, or stay where I was and be drowned, I thought it -behoved me to avail myself of an alternative, so fairly stated, though -my compliance with his offer of rescuing me from the sinking ship was -attended with no small degree of trouble and inconvenience, for I now -perceived myself to be sorely bruised. - -“I exerted myself to the utmost in getting into the boat, yet my efforts -being not sufficiently adroit to satisfy the gentlemen, who were eager -to push off, I heard myself saluted with a general volley of oaths and -ludicrous buffooneries allusive to my awkwardness, which I can truly -aver were the only uncivil words, that I received from either captain or -crew, whilst I had the pleasure of sailing with them. - -“The boat, in which I was, belonged to one of our Lisbon pacquets, that -had the humanity to stop her course and assist us in our distress. On -board this charitable ship I was at length conveyed, and was agreably -surprised to find myself thus unexpectedly amongst my friends and -neighbours; young Sir David Owen and his amiable mother being passengers -and bound to Lisbon. To the humanity of these friends I am indebted for -the comforts I am now enjoying in an excellent hotel on an eminence -called Buenos Ayres, from whence, if my contusions allowed me to get out -of my bed, I might enjoy a beautiful view of the town and river, and in -which, were it not for the annoyance of the flies and more domestic -vermin, I might assuage my pains with the luxury of sleep; but this, -when more familiarized to the customs of these insects, I hope still to -enjoy. - -“There has been another slight shock of an earthquake yesterday, but as -I was in my bed, it did not disturb me near so much as that of the -ship, when she ran upon the rock. - -“As soon as I regain the use of my limbs, I shall look out for a -suitable abode for Mrs. De Lancaster in this delicious place, where I -promise myself a high entertainment in surveying the dilapidations and -disorders occasioned by the great earthquake, which has made the town a -heap of interesting ruins. - -“I have written you a long letter, so, with my duty to my father and -regards to all at home, I conclude myself, dear sister, - - “Your very faithful servant - and loving brother, - “PHILIP DE LANCASTER.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_Mr. Philip De Lancaster in his Hotel at Lisbon receives the News of his -Lady’s Death, and is visited by Sir David Ap Owen. The Consequences of -that Interview are related._ - - -If this letter was read by our hero with mixed impressions of vexation -and disgust it is little to be wondered at, for certainly no character -less extravagantly absurd than that of Philip could have dictated such a -narrative in a serious mood and without varying from the truth of fact. -The intelligence of his wife’s decease was now gone to him at Lisbon, -and the consequences, that might ensue from the fatal weakness of his -intellect and the interested cunning of the widow Owen were very -seriously to be apprehended. - -His natural indolence still kept him a voluntary prisoner in his hotel -at Buenos Ayres and under the hands of his surgeon, though he had no -longer any need of surgical assistance. When Cecilia’s letter reached -his hands he was sitting, in all the costuma of a wounded invalid, in a -bed-gown and night-cap, with his leg, that, having once been bruised, -had not forfeited its privilege, resting on a stool provided with an -easy cushion. Having perused the contents, he deliberately folded up the -letter, laid it on the table before him, and, reclining back in his -chair, surrendered himself to a kind of drowsy meditation on the solemn -nature of the event, now communicated to him: at length, being in the -habit talking more confidentially to himself than to any other person, -he murmured out the following reflections, as they presented themselves -to his mind without order or connection. - -“I thought she had not long to live. I was prepared for the event. It -was naturally to be expected, and Llewellyn himself seemed to cherish -very feeble hopes. Death is common; she is dead, and all the medicines -she has taken have been of no avail; even music could not save her. -Well! I have done my duty; witness the incredible pains and trouble I -have taken to seek out a suitable climate and commodious house for her -to winter in: one of these after infinite labour I had happily -discovered, and the other I was using unabating diligence to provide for -her. As things have turned out I might have spared myself this voyage; -but no matter--It is some consolation to reflect that I have done what -I could; and if my travels have not proved serviceable to her, for whose -sake I undertook them, they have not been totally unprofitable or -unpleasurable to me; for, with the exception only of the surfeit I got -of salt-fish, and the bruises I suffered by shipwreck, I passed my time -very comfortably at sea, and if I have not seen any thing worth my -notice on shore, I have been at least where it was to be seen, and that -is something for a man of curiosity like mine to reflect upon with -satisfaction. Now that I am a widower, and only in the noon of life, -people will be saying to me--Why don’t you marry again? This I am to -expect, but who can judge for me so well as I can for myself? Nobody -knows what matrimony is but those who have undergone the trial. A man -may risque it once in the way of an experiment, but to repeat it is a -sacrifice to posterity and a compliment to the sex, which I am not -disposed to make. No, no; I must not come on there any more. Let me do -Mrs. De Lancaster the justice to confess, that there was an -accommodating lassitude in her, a hypochondriac inertness, a congelation -of all the volatile humours, harmonizing so entirely with my feelings, -that I despair of finding any second wife so happily endowed; I dare not -trust myself with the widow Ap Owen: she has indeed many excellent -endowments; and in spite of all my family can say against her I will -maintain my opinion of her as a very elegant engaging woman, aye, and -one, that in many respects is entirely to my taste, but then (oh Heaven -and earth!) her eyes are so quick, her voice so shrill, her spirit so -high and her health alas! so alarmingly good, that I could never promise -myself a life of ease with her--No, no; she will not suit.” - -Just as he had struck upon this ante-hymeneal sentiment Sir David Ap -Owen came into his room--I am this instant arrived from Cintra, he said, -where in the loveliest spot upon the habitable globe I have been -entertained in a princely style by a gentleman of the factory, Devereux -by name, diamond contractor with the court of Portugal, and universally -looked up to as a man nobly descended and of great wealth. He has one -son, who jointly conducts his business, and one daughter, who to the -recommendation of a very handsome person adds that of a very -considerable fortune: In short, I have some thoughts of the girl, and in -consequence of that idea have a small favour to require of you. - -Name it, Sir David. - -Simply to take an opportunity of calling on Mr. Devereux, and in the -course of conversation naturally to say, that you know me to be what I -am--A man of honour, fortune and of high respectability on the score of -family. This is what I want from you, friend Philip, and all I want from -any man. You know it to be true and of course will have no difficulty in -averring it. I am a stranger in this country: impostors have assumed -names and titles, and Devereux, being a trader, is a cautious man. Come, -sir, put on your clothes, and accompany me directly: my carriage is in -waiting: as for your leg, it has been well these three weeks. - -But if I were to put on my clothes, Philip replied, I could not go out -in them, for I have no mourning, and by a letter from my sister, just -now received, I am informed that Mrs. De Lancaster is no more. - -Dead; defunct? - -Even so. - -That is an event indeed of great importance. In one respect it liberates -you; in another it enthrals, and binds you to your promise. - -I don’t rightly understand to what promise you allude. - -Is it possible, rejoined Sir David, (his fierce eyes flashing as his -fury kindled) is it possible you can feign to forget the engagement you -are under to a lady, whom I have the honour of being related to, and -whose natural protector I am? If your memory, Mr. Philip, is of that -deceitful unretentive texture, you are indeed a true De Lancaster. But -make good your engagement out of hand: a lady’s honour may not be -trifled with. The inveterate animosity of your rancorous son, so called, -and the injurious charges he has fostered, forged, and urged against me -in my absence, have this morning been reported to me by my agent at -Penruth. They are such as he must answer and atone for, unless you by -fulfilling your solemn promise to my mother, shall interpose your -fatherly mediation and heal the else irreparable breach between our -families. - -It is not my fault, Philip calmly replied; for all the world knows me to -be a man of peace and quiet; but as to healing breaches in the manner -you prescribe, give me leave to observe, Sir David, that it is a very -early day for me to be thinking of a second wife before I have yet put -on mourning for my first. - -Yet, sir, you must think of it, reiterated Sir David, (elevating his -voice) and seriously too, though I shall not hurry you in the execution -of it. You shall have time to mourn, if that be what you wish for; but -my spirit has been much too deeply galled by the son to bear any -aggravation from the gentleman, who allows himself to be called the -father--Therefore in one word--Your bond, sir, to my mother, or your -blood.--There is but this alternative: so take your choice. - -You will give me time, Sir David, to deliberate upon this. - -Just as much time, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, as it will cost my lawyer to -write out the bond. I will call upon you before two hours are past. -With these threatening words the loud-tongued bravo bolted out of the -room--Mercy on me, exclaimed the affrighted Philip, what shall I do now, -hedged in as I am between matrimony and murder? - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_Mr. Philip De Lancaster receives a second Visit from Sir David Ap Owen, -and is forced into Measures not very willingly acceded to._ - - -Faithful to his time, Sir David walked into poor Philip’s room without -ceremony, followed by the bearer of the bond, and accompanied by a -miscreant, who, in the counterfeited dress of an officer, was in his -true character and profession nothing better than a bully and assassin. - -There is the bond, said Ap Owen, throwing it on the table: this -gentleman, who drew it up, will read it over to you, and point out the -place where you are to sign and seal. Though in itself a mere matter of -form, yet where a lady’s honour is concerned, it is a form -indispensable. It will behove you therefore instantly to complete it: if -not, this brave and gallant officer, who holds a respectable command in -the army of his most faithful majesty, and is my friend, will be under -the unpleasant necessity to demand satisfaction of you in my name, and -settle time and place for deciding our difference by the death of one of -us. - -Immediately the bond-bearer began to gabble it over with that kind of -inarticulate rapidity, which to Philip’s perturbed senses gave little -chance for understanding it. This ceremony being over, the operation of -signing and sealing was pressed forward with the utmost haste, and urged -by Sir David and his mock-military friend with no common importunity. - -What could poor Philip do, _hedged in_, as he had observed, _between -matrimony and murder_? He looked up, and in the face of the -black-whiskered demon-like assassin, that stood over him with the pen, -read his fate if he refused: he signed the bond, and sealed it with _the -winged harp_, that never since the days of Bladud had been so disgraced: -by this he was pledged to a penalty of twenty thousand pounds, if he -failed in the conditions, or, if he fulfilled them, consigned over to -the arms of Mrs. Rachel Ap Owen, relict of Mr. David Ap Owen, and -daughter of he knew not whom. - -As soon as this was done, the bond-bearer folded up his paper, thrust it -into his bosom and walked off: the principal and his second sate down on -each side of Philip--We have now one common interest, said Sir David, -and are friends for life. The injurious treatment I have received from -those, with whom I shall be so nearly connected, and chiefly from your -son, may now be amicably adjusted. You, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, will be -united to one of the most amiable women in the world; a lady descended -from the illustrious house of De La Cerda, and endowed with every grace, -and every virtue, that can render the married state correctly honourable -and supremely happy. - -If it be but quiet, that is all I ask, poor Philip said in a desponding -tone. After a short pause he added--If this gentleman has no particular -objection to leaving us alone, I should wish to say a few words to you, -Sir David, in private upon family concerns. - -Sir David desired the colonel, as he called him, to wait for him in the -next room: Philip took the liberty of informing him that he should go to -England by the pacquet for the purpose of settling some affairs, that in -consequence of Mrs. De Lancaster’s decease would require his presence. - -To this Sir David replied--I perceive you have not strictly attended to -the conditions of the bond, you would have else have known that to -separate yourself from my mother before marriage would involve you in -the forfeiture of it. We mean to pass the winter months at Cintra, where -I have engaged a house in the near neighbourhood of Mr. Devereux’s -villa. It is sufficiently large to accommodate us both; and you will -there not only find yourself in an earthly paradise, but enjoy the full -opportunity of cultivating a more close acquaintance with the truly -amiable object, who is destined to make your future days respectable and -happy. What a violation would it be of all the rules of gallantry and -good faith were you to run over to England and desert her! No, my dear -sir, (and here Sir David took his hand and attempted a look, which, if -he meant it as a smile, was a wretched and most libellous imitation) no, -my dear sir, he said, I could not for any consideration in life submit -to part from my good father-in-law elect, for whom I have conceived so -cordial an esteem, and in whose society I promise myself so many -agreeable hours. Having now definitively adjusted your alliance with my -mother, I shall lose no further time in sounding Mr. Devereux on the -disposal of his daughter, and we may very probably effect a double -marriage at the same happy moment, provided only that I find the young -lady’s fortune answer my expectations. - -That is truly a very prudent consideration, Philip replied, and puts me -in mind, Sir David, to ask you what is the fortune I am to expect with -the lady your mother. - -The happiest that can befal you, was the answer, and a bond of twenty -thousand pounds cancelled on your wedding-day. With these words Ap Owen -left the room, whilst poor Philip, silenced but not satisfied, made no -further effort to detain him. - -Though Mrs. Rachel De Lancaster had some grounds for expecting a -proposal, she had no such plea upon the score of actual promise as could -constitute a claim so peremptory as now was urged upon him; and with all -the partiality he had ever felt or expressed for the widow, it may well -be doubted if his dread of marriage would not in all cases have -outweighed his hopes of happiness. But now, crest-fallen and spiritless, -in a strange country, which he dare not quit, and conscious, that, -except within the walls of his far-distant home, he had not in the world -a friend, to whom he could unbosom his sorrows and appeal for succour -and advice, he poignantly felt the full impression of his distressful -situation. To his father he was ashamed to write; to his sister writing -could not serve him; Colonel Wilson was not a man for his purpose, and -there remained only his son John, whom, though he had hitherto treated -as a child, he now thought proper to address by letter; and in the -course of the next day, after as much meditation as his mind was capable -of, he wrote as follows. - - “Dear son! - - “The circumstance of your mother’s death, communicated to me in a - letter from your aunt, has involved me in a very serious - difficulty, of which I lose no time to give you an account. Sir - David Ap Owen, who has settled himself here for the winter, and - with whom I am upon the best terms, has used very cogent means to - prevail upon me to enter into contract of marriage, claiming the - fulfilment of a promise, which he states that I have made to Mrs. - Rachel Ap Owen his mother, when I visited her at Penruth Abbey. - Now though I will not deny but that words were said by me, which - she has a right to consider as extremely flattering, I do not think - they can be made to bear the interpretation of an absolute promise, - as insisted upon by Sir David. I protest to you, son John, I am not - a man inclined to hasty measures, more especially of a matrimonial - nature, being, as you know, rather studious of my repose; and of - course I took some pains to satisfy the gentleman that, with all - possible respect for the lady, it would suit me better to leave her - in possession of her tranquillity, and continue to enjoy my own. - Sir David’s answer to this was by the statement of an alternative, - which was not a little embarrassing, as he left me nothing but a - choice of difficulties; declaring that I must either instantly - decide to keep faith with his mother, and pledge myself to marry - her, or turn out with him and end the difference by the death of - one of us. Now though I am not afraid of death in a natural way, - knowing we all must die, yet I am for conscience-sake a most - determined enemy to duelling, by which my grandfather lost his - life; I therefore had insuperable objections to the latter part of - his proposal; and seeing him also accompanied by a gentleman of a - very martial appearance, who, though offering himself as second - only, seemed by far more terrible than his principal, I thought - good to compromise the matter, and executed a bond, obliging myself - under a very heavy penalty (not less than twenty thousand pounds) - to wed the lady on the expiration of three months to come. Now as - every one must acknowledge the uncommon merits of Mrs. Rachel Ap - Owen, and none can be more sensible of them than I am, I console - myself with the reflection, that if I shall be perfectly recovered - from my bruises, when the time comes that our union is to take - place, it may prove the happy means of restoring that antient and - accustomed harmony between our families, which with much regret I - understand has of late been interrupted. You are thus possessed of - what I have to say, and as I suspect that my father will be adverse - to this hasty match; and doubt if even Cecilia with all her candour - will be entirely reconciled to it, I conjure you by your filial - duty and affection, if you find them obstinate in their opposition, - to come over in person to my relief and comfort; forasmuch I am - bound not to stir from this country, and so closely watched that, - were I disposed to attempt it, I am certain the attempt would be - frustrated, and perhaps be fatal. - - “This is the first letter I ever wrote to you; lay it to your - heart: recollect that you are my son, and if haply you possess that - active spirit of your ancestors, which has not descended upon me, - take pity on my situation, and hasten to the rescue of your - affectionate, but afflicted, father-- - - “PHILIP DE LANCASTER.” - -Philip had just time to set his name to this lamentable epistle, when a -young gentleman of good person and elegant address, who had been -announced by the name of Devereux, entered the room. He understood Mr. -De Lancaster to be in habits of friendship with Sir David Ap Owen, and, -if he had not been misinformed, they were near neighbours in -Merionethshire. - -Philip said he had been rightly informed. They were near neighbours. Sir -David’s seat at Penruth was not above four miles from Kray Castle, where -he lived with his father. - -Penruth has been represented to me, said the gentleman, as a very fine -old venerable mansion--Philip nodded assent--And the estate about it -very considerable; indeed, as I have been told, very capital. - -I have been told the same, Philip said; but I am not curious about -people’s estates. Sir Owen, this young gentleman’s uncle, lived very -handsomely, and very hospitably, upon it. That is all I know of the -matter. - -I suspect, rejoined the other, I may appear to you more inquisitive than -I ought to be; but I beg leave to say in my own defence that I was -particularly referred to you by Sir David himself. - -Sir David could not have referred you to a more unfit man: I am as -ignorant of my own father’s estate as I am of Sir David’s, and of Sir -David’s as I am of your’s. - -Why then, sir, I must pay a visit to Penruth myself; for I have my -father’s strict commands to obtain information of every particular -necessary for him to know relative to Sir David Ap Owen, who, I must now -tell you, has made proposals to us for marrying my sister. - -Yes, and to me, said Philip, for marrying his mother; you see therefore -it is a family-affair between us, and though I have not a single -syllable to offer why Sir David’s marriage with your sister should not -take place, I confess it would not break my heart if mine with his -mother was put off for ever. Now, sir, if you are bound to England, I -can truly say, I wish I were going with you; but if you meditate a visit -to Penruth Abbey, where there is nobody to receive you, I most earnestly -recommend it to you to turn aside and go to Kray Castle, where my father -and his family will be happy to see you, and where you may do me a -singular piece of service, if you will take charge of this letter, which -I have just been writing, and deliver it privately to my son, whilst I -will trouble you to be the bearer of a few lines to my good and worthy -father, simply to let him know how respectable a visitor I shall have -the honour to introduce to him, when you are pleased to avail yourself -of his well known hospitality. - -Sir, replied Devereux, I am setting off for England in to-morrow’s -pacquet. Of your letter to your son I will take faithful charge, and -deliver it to him in the manner you prescribe. I also thankfully embrace -your very kind offer of introducing me to your father, of whose high -character for worth and honour I am not uninformed; whilst I must own -there is a mysterious kind of cloud about Sir David Ap Owen, through -which I am not able perfectly to see my way; for I find him totally -unknown to our British envoy here, and have not heard him say what -brings him and the lady, to whom it seems you are engaged, into this -country, having so lately succeeded to a great situation and -establishment in his own. With respect to his proposed connection with -my family, I must beg to say, that although we reside here in the -character and capacity of merchants, we have nevertheless such -pretensions on the score of noble birth and property by no means -inconsiderable, as give us a perfect right to use every honorable -precaution for knowing whom we are to receive into our alliance, -provided the gentleman, who proposes, shall prove acceptable to us as -well as to my sister; on whom nothing has been sparingly bestowed, that -either nature could give or education improve. - -This being said, what further passed is not important to relate. Philip -wrote a short letter to his father, and having delivered it, and his -secret pacquet, to Mr. Devereux, took his leave of him, and as he -grasped his hand with a sensation, rarely, if ever, felt by him before, -he sent from his sad heart a longing sigh towards his beloved native -country, which fate, that had doomed him never more to visit it but as -a corpse, gave to the winds, that dispersed it on its passage. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_Another Soliloquy of Mr. Philip De Lancaster. Our History returns to -the Family at Kray Castle._ - - -When the Irish tailor, who had been a journeyman botcher in London, and -was now become a master of journeymen botchers in Lisbon, had invested -the well-made person of Mr. Philip De Lancaster in an ill-made suit of -rotten black, the mourning bridegroom elect, having paid the bill and -dismissed the bill-maker, examined himself in the glass, and thus, as -was customary with him, mournfully soliloquized-- - -“Luckless man that I am, must I put aside this habit on my wedding-day? -Wherefore; on what pretence; I have undergone that ceremony once -already, and by experience can more than guess to what sad hours that -ceremony leads. Marriage, by high authority denominated honourable, is, -through perversion of its purposes, to many become disgraceful, -burdensome to most, and a blessing, as I verily believe, to few, if any, -who know how to compute what is a blessing, and what is their bane. -There are indeed a few soft silly things amongst the mass of female -spinsters, that a man, who knows the value of their ignorance, might -possibly with proper care prevent from growing wiser; but a widow--(Oh -my hapless fortune, Rachel Owen is a widow--) who can keep in ignorance? -Not I; not any man. - -“Her eyes, her air, her action, every movement and every word -prognosticate sagacity, that will not be deceived: then what a pipe? -Good Heaven, if that voice, which is so shrill whilst only warbling -Spanish tonadillas, that to me are unintelligible, shall be roused to -exert itself in plain English argumentation, farewel to all repose! nor -peace, nor quiet shall I ever know. How am I sure she is not a Jewess? -She may, for aught that I can tell, be lineally descended from that -wicked king, who put to death all the innocents; and if so, how shall I -escape? Happy Devereux, he is on the seas: would I were on them too, or -under them, rather than what I may be, aye, and shall be if that -sharp-eyed widow sets her wits to work. I begin to think I made a wrong -choice, and should have taken my chance of turning out with the son, -rather than of turning in where I shall have no chance at all. There -seems nothing left for me but to fall extremely sick, and that I may -really be so without feigning, I will instantly call in a Portuguese -physician, and (which is more than any patient less desperate will -promise) I am resolute to take his physic. Ah, where is my good friend -and countryman Llewellyn? My poor wife followed his prescriptions, and -behold! here am I in his livery, black as the hands of man can make me. -Ah Llewellyn, Llewellyn, in Wales it was quite enough for me to endure -your company; I never wished to be your patient till now that I am in -Lisbon, and under sentence of a dose more bitter and against my palate -than you ever mixed--But what if John De Lancaster should come upon my -call? There would be a champion worthy of my cause: Glendowr’s magic -could not conjure up a braver or a stouter spirit. He is young, not -married, not, like me, bent to the yoke, but free, untrammeled and -untamed. I’ll cherish hope; I’ll feed upon the thought that my brave boy -will come, and vex myself no more.” - -Whilst this sad ditty was in recitation Devereux was wafted swiftly over -the ocean, favoured by a freshening gale, that blowed direct for -England, as if impatient to salute the mother of the winds and mistress -of the waves, amidst which she sits safe and encircled on her chalky -throne. - -Mean time our John De Lancaster, from whose society we have unwillingly -been separated for some short while, could hardly count the hours, so -quick they passed, when with his loved Amelia by his side, - - _They fled away with down upon their feet_. - -It might now be most truly said that the good old chief of the family at -Kray Castle was surrounded by a groupe of happy subjects, all loyal, -free and affectionate, all witnessing his benevolence, regaling -themselves in the sunshine of his smile and sharing the enjoyments of -his hospitable board: his cooks seemed perfectly persuaded that spits -were made to turn, whilst his cellerman probably forgot that the -property of a spigot was to stop a barrel. Scarce a day passed, which -was not marked by the attention of his neighbouring friends; Sir Arthur -Floyd and the new allies were frequent in their visits, for they had a -passionate affection for our hero, and whilst their eyes dwelt with -approving pleasure on the fair Amelia, they destined him to her arms, -and paid her their devoirs as to a bride elect. - -Mrs. Jennings, respited from all the anxious responsibility of a -governess, seemed to retain nothing but that unalterable affection for -her beloved charge, which was natural to her, and began to think of -retiring to her independence at Denbigh--I see you now, my dear Amelia, -she said, firmly seated in the hearts of this liberal and benignant -family, adopted by the excellent Cecilia, and favoured beyond all my -hopes by the venerable De Lancaster; and what more have I to do but to -lay down my cares, and rejoice in your good fortune? I have to the best -of my power fulfilled the promise, that I made to your dear father, -whose conscious spirit, now in bliss, looks down upon you; my prayers -for your happiness, and for the life of him, on whom your happiness -depends, will for the remnant of my days be fervently put up to that -Almighty Power, whose attribute is mercy. Go on, my child, in the right -course, in which I strove to train you, and from which you never yet -have strayed. Cultivate Cecilia: Guard your young heart against the -dangerous allurements of sudden elevation, and that unlooked-for -prosperity, which is at hand to put your constancy, your piety, your -humility to the test. Mean, low-born persons are too apt to turn giddy -on the wheel of fortune, when it lifts them from the dirt; but -recollect, that in hereditary rank and dignity your pretensions are as -high as those of the De Lancasters and Morgans, who in riches, not in -ancestry, have an advantage over you, and riches only, as you well know, -constitute no actual superiority. Let your humility therefore, though in -itself one of the most recommendatory qualities you can possess, be that -gentle virtue, which your religion dictates, but never let it sink below -the mark, at which true conscious honour has a right to stand. - -Cecilia’s lessons, not less edifying, were of another cast; for every -word, that fell from her lips, was tinctured with a suavity and grace -peculiar to her elegance of character. When she addressed her -admonitions to the heart, their object was to inspire it with -benevolence, with charity, with resignation and that christian -lowliness, which whilst on earth it sinks, secures its happiest surest -flight to Heaven. To these Amelia listened with delight; on these she -formed herself, and, happily for her, whilst she received the precept, -she beheld the example, that confirmed it. Every day gave her new -graces, till the charms of beauty were but as ornaments, whose only use -is to set off the lustre of the real gem. - -As for the grand-father of her beloved, it was something curious to -remark how soon she found a strenuous advocate in him. When he descanted -she was all attention; nothing could draw her from him. He would say, -Amelia listens to me with good sense and apprehension: There is a marked -discernment in her silence, that is more pleasing, aye, and more -eloquent than all the studied praise that flattery can suggest--I have -been thinking, he said one day, as they were sitting in their family -circle, I have been thinking, John, that if I live to see the day when -you shall be of age, how perfectly it would complete and crown my -felicity, would you take it into your gallant mind to make me a present -on that joyful occasion. I would have you think it is not a trifle, that -will satisfy me. It must be a measure of your esteem for me, and a full -satisfaction, recompence and return for all the love, the care, the fond -anxiety, that you have merited and I bestowed. Look around, and tell me -if you guess my meaning. - -John had not far to look, for Amelia sate beside him struggling to -conceal her consciousness of the allusion, and dreading to hear that, -which would have given her such delight to have overheard without the -confusion of being present. In this instant, most opportunely for her -rescue, whilst all her efforts could not prevent her blushes from -betraying her, the harp of David Williams sounded in the hall, and she -exclaimed above her usual pitch--Oh, what a charming strain. - -Bid him come in, said the old gentleman, addressing himself to his -grandson, and if the muse has visited her votary, perhaps she will -supply him with words to that strain, which our dear Amelia seems to be -so pleased with--David has a quick invention when his wits are well -warmed with his favourite metheglin. - -The minstrel entered and was led to a seat in the corner of the room, at -the farthest distance from the company assembled. Having lightly sounded -the strings of his harp to prove if they were in perfect tune, he asked -if the young stranger lady was in the room. - -Mr. De Lancaster told him that Miss Amelia Jones was present, and had -expressed herself much pleased with the melody, which he had been -rehearsing in the hall: Could he play it over to them again? - -Perhaps not quite the same: He would attempt something as like it as he -could recollect, he hoped it would be not much worse, but he doubted if -it would be exactly the same. - -David, said De Lancaster again, you have enquired if Miss Jones is -present; I have told you that she is, and if you could see her, and be -satisfied how fair a lady you are invited to address, your muse, -inspired by her beauty, would be propitious, and mere melody would not -be all, that we should hear from you. - -Roused by this challenge to his genius, the blind old bard spread his -hands upon the harp, and having rested his forehead on the frame of it -for a very few minutes, after an appropriate prelude, extemporaneously -broke forth as follows. - - “Lady, they tell me thou art passing fair, - And blest by Heaven with a celestial mind; - I hear thee speaking, but I know not where, - For woe is me, poor minstrel! I am blind. - - Yet when the muse inspires me, I can trace - Forms, that to mental vision seem divine; - My fancy can pourtray an angel’s face, - Dress it in angel smiles, and call it thine. - - Still through the windings of these antient tow’rs - Your dark musician can explore his way, - For my dear patron’s animating pow’rs - To these benighted orbs can give the day. - - Object of all our love, of all our care. - To thee, brave youth, our honest praise is giv’n; - Thy deeds, recorded in the poor man’s pray’r, - With that sweet incense shall ascend to Heav’n. - - Oft have I bless’d thee, borne thee in my arms, - And oft have hush’d thy wailing infant cry, - Or witching thy young heart with music’s charms - Chang’d the loud laugh to pity’s melting sigh. - - And shall not he, that feels the virgin’s wrongs, - In some fond virgin’s nuptial arms be blest, - Whilst grateful bards record him in their songs - In love the happiest, and in heart the best? - - But who is this in bridal robes array’d? - What beauteous vision is it that I see? - Hail, fair Amelia! this celestial shade - Is the bright form my day-dream shapes for thee.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_Devereux arrives at Kray Castle._ - - -When David Williams had concluded his lay and retired, Mr. De Lancaster -gravely observed, that in ancient times prophecies and prayers and even -laws were delivered in verse; then, turning to his grandson, he said, -Let David’s vision be realized on the day that you are of age, and you -and I, John, shall be two of the happiest of human beings-- - -Here he was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who brought a -letter; it was that, which Philip had sent by young Devereux as his -introduction to the hospitalities of Kray Castle. A servant was -dispatched by Devereux with it as he entered the park, and the old -gentleman had barely time to read it to his family circle when the -porter’s bell announced an arrival. John hastened to the hall door, as -Devereux in his travelling equipage drove up, and received him with that -natural cordiality, which, assuring him of his welcome, might be said to -constitute friendship at first sight. When he presented him to his -father, the good man had entered the hall, and, taking him by the hand, -said--I have read the letter, Mr. Devereux, which you bring me from my -son, and am proud of the honour you confer upon me. I beg you will -consider this house as your own, and the longer stay you shall think fit -to make in it, the happier we shall be. I know your noble family full -well, and respect every branch of it. He then said aloud to his -servants--See that proper care be taken of every thing belonging to Mr. -Devereux, and be sure you let his people want for nothing: they are -strangers to this country. - -During the ceremony of introducing him to Cecilia and the rest of the -family, in which Mr. De Lancaster was somewhat precise, young Devereux -acquitted himself as a gentleman familiar with good company, gracefully -and without embarrassment: in his person he was light and elegant, and -in his countenance there was great expression, though not perfect -symmetry of features: there was a quickness of intellect and of spirit -in his eyes, that nobody could mistake. - -He was speedily at his ease, and in answer to Mr. De Lancaster’s -enquiries said, that he had been extremely lucky in a good passage by -the pacquet, and not less so in his journey since his landing. He -expressed himself highly pleased in the opportunity he now had of -visiting his native country, for he was born and bred in Herefordshire, -where his father had an hereditary property, and it was part of his -business in England to look into the affairs of that estate. - -To Cecilia’s question about her brother’s health he replied, that Mr. De -Lancaster had received some slight hurt in the ship, that brought him -over, and when he visited him at Buenos Ayres, had his leg upon a chair; -but added with a smile that he believed he rested it merely from habit, -as he observed, that he had the perfect use of it, whenever he had -occasion to employ it. - -That is so like him, said De Lancaster to Colonel Wilson--Aye, replied -the colonel, I would not change my wooden leg for both his, if I made no -better use of them than he does. - -Is my father coming over, said young De Lancaster? - -I believe not yet. He has friends at Cintra, and ’tis likely he may pass -the winter there. - -I hope, Mr. Devereux, the old gentleman observed, my son has the honour -of being known to your father, and that it is in his family he forms his -friendships. - -I have no doubt it will be so, Devereux replied; but at present Mr. De -Lancaster has formed no connexions but with a lady and gentleman, who I -believe are neighbours of your’s, when they are at home. If I rightly -understand Sir David Ap Owen, who is the gentleman I allude to, he has a -considerable property in this county, and a handsome seat not far from -hence. - -Sir David Owen has a very antient and respectable station in this near -neighbourhood, called Penruth Abbey, and a very considerable property in -land about it. The lately deceased Sir Owen ap Owen was a worthy -gentleman, lived hospitably, and was respected by his countrymen and -neighbours: he was truly of a very antient stock, and I had the -happiness to consider him as my particular and very good friend. Penruth -Abbey is well worth your seeing, and if you have a wish to ride over, my -servants shall attend upon you. I am sorry to say, that between our -houses, since Sir Owen’s death, all intercourse is at an end. - -Devereux bowed, and on that subject said no more. The conversation then -took a general turn, till supper was served up by the orange-tawney -liverymen in great feudal state, and Devereux, to whom these specimens -of antient manners were extremely interesting, was in due time and order -ushered to an excellent apartment, by Cecilia’s direction elegantly set -out and provided with every thing, that was appropriate to his comfort -and repose. - -The next morning, after breakfast, he signified to John that he wished -to have a few minutes in private with him. In a rustic building at the -end of a walk, that winded though the ornamented ground, he delivered to -our young hero the letter he was secretly encharged with from poor -Philip--When he had read the letter, John said, there is matter in this -letter, that concerns me nearly, and affects me deeply. Are the -contents, so far as they relate to my father’s situation with the widow -Ap Owen, known to you? - -In some degree Devereux confessed they were not unknown to him. He had -been informed by Sir David that Mr. De Lancaster had entered into an -engagement for marrying that lady. - -I would go to the farthest foot of land on the globe of earth, said -John, to save him from that fatal, that disgraceful, that detestable -connection. Rather would I see my father dead and in his coffin, nay, -rather would I die myself, than see him married to that odious, that -felonious woman. - -You astonish me, cried Devereux; she must artfully have concealed her -character from me, if it merits to be so described, which I must not -presume to doubt of. And now, Mr. De Lancaster, since you have so far -trusted to me by committing yourself to expressions of such abhorrence -with respect to that lady’s character, I will, with your permission, -confide to you the situation, in which I stand towards her son--Sir -David Ap Owen has made proposals of marriage with my sister--(John -started, and betrayed considerable agitation)--Yes sir, he has offered -himself to my father, and it is solely upon that account I am come over -to assure myself of particulars as stated by Sir David, touching the -character, which he bears in his county, the family he is of, and the -fortune he possesses. Now my father conceives, though for the present he -is engaged in contracts as a trader, yet that he is intitled both by -birth and property to be perfectly secured from any misrepresentation -whatsoever, and I must freely confess we think there is some mystery -about Sir David, and cannot divine his motive for deserting a fine place -and property, so newly devolved upon him, and coming to Lisbon of all -places in the world, unless upon the plea of health, which by no means -seems to be the case either with his mother or himself. His pretensions, -as he states them, are such as my father cannot reasonably oppose, and -it does not appear, if we were satisfied as to all essential points of -character and general conduct, that Sir David Ap Owen would be -unacceptable to my sister, who, I must take the liberty to say, is -qualified to look quite as high, as to this gentleman, who addresses -her; and, having no flaw in her pretensions, has a right to expect that -none such shall be found in his. In this predicament I stand, protector -of a sister’s honour, and responsible for her happiness, which I am sure -you will allow to be a serious and a sacred trust. If therefore you -could bring your mind to put that repose in my honour, which, if you -knew me better, I flatter myself you would not withhold, and would speak -to me as friend to friend respecting this connection, you would confer -the greatest favour possible on me and mine. - -Sir, replied the gallant youth, (touched to the heart by the appeal now -made to him, which brought to his recollection poor Ap Rees’s case) I -have no doubt of your honour, and as I am determined to go over to the -rescue of my father from his dangerous situation, you shall in the mean -time hear nothing from me, or in my company, relative to Sir David, -which I will not be ready to avouch in presence of your father to Sir -David’s face, if you can bring him to the meeting. However, sir, as -there are certain restrictions, which bear with extreme force upon me, -and do not affect others equally able to satisfy your enquiries, I will -instantly conduct you, if you have no objection to lengthen your walk, -to a place, where every thing shall be made known to you by one, whose -veracity cannot be questioned. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_John De Lancaster and Devereux visit the Minstrel Ap Rees._ - - -It was to the romantic little tenement, which John De Lancaster in his -bounty had bestowed upon Ap Rees, he now proceeded with his companion -Devereux, pondering by the way upon the wretched situation of his -helpless father, and devising means how to overcome the difficulties, -that he foresaw would assail him in his project for leaving England. He -could as yet see no way through the labyrinth of obstacles, that from -all quarters would be opposed to his departure; and of these the sorrows -of Amelia, though probably the least obtrusive, were by no means the -least to be apprehended, or the easiest to surmount. - -The information he could gain from Devereux did not in all points -satisfy his curiosity; for Sir David Ap Owen had said nothing to him of -the menaces he employed for obtaining the bond, and with Philip he had -had but one interview, which disclosed still less of what John wanted to -be explained than the letter, which he had been reading. - -As they went on their way discoursing, the cottage of Ap Rees in all its -rural loveliness caught the eyes of Devereux, and caused him to break -forth in rapturous admiration of it--We are going thither, said our -hero. That is the habitation of the minstrel Ap Rees, who from his -childhood has been domesticated in the Ap Owen family, and is, as you -will soon discover, a person of no ordinary talents; and although now -old and blind, and (which is worse than both) broken-hearted by -misfortunes, yet is he second to none that our country has to boast of, -either as harmonist or bard. - -Alas! said Devereux, old and blind and full of sorrows, with feelings -yet alive to every pang they give him, what accumulated misery must his -be! Heavy enough, I should conceive, must be his loss, who cannot see -the beauties of this lovely spot, nor gratify his senses with the -scenery, that nature in the wantonness of her luxuriance spreads around -him. But doubtless it is to the bounty of the heir of the Ap Owens, that -he owes these comforts, this asylum for old age to rest in, till -Providence shall graciously be pleased to terminate his sorrows, and -close those eyes in death, that are already merged in darkness and -despair. - -’Tis natural, John replied, that you should so conjecture: but no Ap -Owen gave him that asylum. - -To whom then does he owe it? - -No answer was given to this question; and now the notes of the harp, -accompanied by the voice, caused them to stop and listen at the wicket -of the little plat of grass, that for a few yards ran sloping down from -the cottage. The harmony was of the most pathetic, sad and solemn cast, -delicately touched by the hand of the master, but of the words they -could distinguish few, expect that by a passage more strongly given out -than the rest, they concluded it to be the lamentation of a father at -the funeral of his child. - -He ceased and all was silent in the house--’Tis exquisite, said -Devereux; but pray don’t ask him to repeat it. I should not like to see -him, and to hear him at the same time--John walked up to the house-door, -opened it gently, and entered the room, followed by Devereux. - -The old man had replaced himself in his elbow chair; his son Robert had -put away his harp, and in a corner of the room apart sate a young woman, -who held her white apron to her eyes, and appeared to be weeping. - -As soon as Robert announced Mr. John De Lancaster Ap Rees rose from his -seat, and with his claspt hands pressed upon his bosom, bowed his head -and exclaimed--The Providence of Heaven be with you, my most honoured -benefactor! Are you come to visit your poor beadsman? Oh, that I could -see you! With the benevolence of an angel in your heart I am sure you -must have the divinity of an angel in your countenance. - -Robin, said the youth, do not address me in those terms. Call me your -friend; for such I really am. The gratification I receive in giving -comfort to a man like you, if indeed you are comforted, is full -repayment; I deserve no praise. Now tell me sincerely; what is there -besides that I can do to put you at your ease? - -Nothing is wanting, he replied: Man can do no more for man than you have -done for me. I have my son yet left; thanks to your bounteous goodness -for the blessing! she in the corner, Sally Gwynne by name, a kinswoman -of my late wife, is a good girl and waits upon me kindly: she was the -beloved friend of my poor Nancy, and has been much affected by my -mournful dirge: I did not know it, else I would have stopped. But sure I -hear the footsteps of another in the room. - -Your ear is correct, said De Lancaster. It is Mr. Devereux, a friend of -mine. He listened to your dirge with great attention. I would not have -you to repeat it, but let him know the purport. Tell that young woman to -withdraw--And now I am about to put a melancholy task upon you, but it -much concerns me, that this gentleman, newly arrived from Lisbon, should -hear you briefly, truly and distinctly relate the manner of your -daughter’s death. - -Where is the gentleman? - -He stands before you. - -Sir, I call Heaven to witness that my child was murdered. Her vital -functions were destroyed and poisoned by drugs of an inflammatory and -deadly property, which, rendering her insane, drove her to suicide, and -so brought on a death of double horror. This is no longer circumstance, -but proof: The inspection of the corpse, the deposition of the -surgeons, and, above all, the confession of the accomplice, bring it -home to the criminal, and would convict him of murder, could he be -brought to trial. - -What prevents it? Devereux demanded with voice and look so -horrow-struck, as seemed to indicate suspicion of the issue. - -His flight prevents it: his accusing conscience, which haunts him with -the dreadful recollection, that my poor Innocent, my virtuous child -withstood his gross desires, till to effect his brutal purposes he -villainously contrived to deprive her of her senses, and to the crime of -murder added that of violation. - -Name the villain, Devereux exclaimed. - -The minstrel rose from his seat, and, laying his hand upon his heart, in -a firm tone replied--David Ap Owen--my dead patron’s heir; and Heaven -so judge me as I speak the truth! - -Enough! said Devereux. I set off to-morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_John De Lancaster confers with his Grandfather upon the Purport of the -Letter, he had received from Lisbon._ - - -When Devereux had taken his departure from the cottage of the Minstrel, -following the steps of De Lancaster, as he led the way towards Kray -Castle, after long silence and much meditation, he thus addressed his -companion--The insult, which this outlawed villain has put upon my -family by audaciously attempting to ensnare my sister, calls on me to -expose him in the most public manner, and he shall not escape the -disgrace he merits. My presence will be required without delay, and as I -can now see full cause why you should be as deeply interested to rescue -your father from his engagement as I am to save my sister from all -chance of so horrible a connection, what prevents our setting off -together? I cannot promise you a reception so noble and so elegant as -you give me, for we have no Kray Castles in Portugal, but a sincere and -cordial welcome I can truly assure you of. You will find comforts at -least with us, that are not every where to be met with in that country. - -John was about to make answer, when being now near the castle, they were -met by Cecilia and Amelia, whom they joined, and of course nothing more -was said upon the subject in their company. - -There could be no doubt in the mind of young De Lancaster as to the -necessity he was under of communicating to his grandfather the letter he -had received from Lisbon, and he resolved to do it in the first instance -without consulting even his friend Edward Wilson. - -He found the good man alone in his library, and immediately began by -requesting him to give order that they should not be interrupted, as he -had something of a private nature to impart to him. This was soon done, -and John, having briefly stated the purport of the letter, delivered it -to his grandfather. It required all the philosophy of old De Lancaster -to restrain his anger and astonishment within any bounds--Is this -disgrace, he cried, to fall upon my name and family? It must not be; it -shall not. - -You will suffer me then, said John, to go over and prevent it. You see, -my dear sir, I am called upon by my father: it is my duty to obey him: -he is in distress, and expects me. - -Let him expect. ’Tis the sluggard’s fate to expect. Am I to sacrifice -the beloved of my heart; am I to extinguish the last spark of my hope, -the only relique of my ancient family, to redeem a coward from his -ignominious bond! - -If my unhappy father is a coward, the youth replied, and reddened as he -spake, let me at least convince the world, that the disgrace stops at -me, and that there is but one coward in existence, that bears the name -of De Lancaster. - -I’ll go myself: I am his father; the disgrace is mine. - -Sir!--exclaimed the youth--You’ll go yourself?--You, you to Portugal? -Forbid it, Heaven! my aunt, myself, your whole united family and friends -will be upon our knees to turn your mind from such a desperate thought. -What can be the objection to my going? where is the danger? what have I -to fear? you won’t suppose that I would condescend to turn out with that -outlaw, that convicted murderer, who dare not set his foot on British -land: and if you think, that I could need protection, I have it in the -family of Devereux; nay, Devereux himself solicits to go with me; for he -has business not less urgent than mine is to adjust with that wretch, -who has had the effrontery to offer at a marriage with his sister. He -comes to England and goes back at once to save his sister, and shall I -do less to save a father? If Devereux thinks his name dishonoured by -that vile connection, have I not equal right to be as zealous to rescue -yours from that nefarious bond, and the disgraceful marriage that hangs -to it?--De Lancaster paused: He turned an approving look upon his -grandson: his cheek flushed, and the tear glistened in his eyes--Your -reasoning is unanswerable, he cried; your motive most commendable, my -child! but alas! I am too old to accompany you, and whilst you -demonstrate to me, that I ought to part from you, you convince me that I -could not live without you, and show me all the danger and the dread of -losing you. Besides, it is not me alone, whom the parting from you will -make wretched: there are hearts as weak, as tender and as fond as -mine--Think of our dear Cecilia, of your aunt! what will you say to her? -what to Amelia? - -What I have said to you--To every one, that feels for my departure, my -honour and my duty form the plea, that I must urge for giving pain to -them, who are so dear to me: And surely, sir, there’s nothing so -alluring in the task, that I should covet it for other reasons, than -I’ve assigned to you. There must be something stronger than -self-indulgence, more imperious than the repugnance, which I feel at -heart, when I must force a sigh from you and them; and you of all men -living best can tell what that compulsion is--We must not be -dishonoured. - -You have said it, De Lancaster replied; and now, my dear John, before we -proceed any further I hold it right and proper to send for our friend -Edward Wilson, and let him read your father’s letter without saying any -thing on the subject to bias his opinion. We shall then have his -sentiments upon the matter, and either be confirmed in our own judgment, -or perhaps hear from him what may induce us to reconsider it. - -To this John of course most readily assented, and the message instantly -produced the man. De Lancaster put the letter into his hand, simply -desiring him to read it. Edward’s expressive countenance, whilst -perusing the contents, bespoke his sovereign contempt of the writer, and -was such a comment on the text as no one could mistake--Wretched, -wretched man! he cried. This is a degradation and disgrace not to him -only, but to human nature. We may pity weakness; we may find some plea -in the construction of a man for want of spirit and of manly feelings; -but this is such an act as even folly would not own, insanity would -blush for. Ah venerable sir, is this your son? ah my beloved John, is -this your father? sorry I am to speak with such contempt of one so near -to those, whom I respect and love. Forgive me, my good sir, it is my -zeal for you my patron, and for this my pupil, that has betrayed me into -this intemperance--But I’ll offend no further. This only you will suffer -me to say--He is De Lancaster, and must be saved. By whom, you’ll ask: -by whom but by his son? nature demands it; duty calls him forth; honour -imperiously compels him to it. But whilst the sacred trust that I still -hold, the solemn obligation, that still binds me to this beloved youth, -whose life is dearer to me than my own, gives me authority to speak -thus freely, I must insist upon my right to say, that wheresoever duty -carries him, it carries me. I know his virtues, sir; I know his ardour: -those I have nourished; that I have repressed, and studied to confine -within due bounds. If John embarks upon this filial errand, I throw -these clerical equipments off, and embark with him as my father’s son, -the son of Colonel Wilson; and if you consent to part from him, no power -on earth, your own excepted, shall withhold me from him. - -Robert De Lancaster, who had kept his eyes fixed upon Wilson, whilst -thus descanting in a higher tone and with a vehemence, that till this -moment he never had given way to, now perceiving that he had brought his -speech to a conclusion, rose from his seat, and, taking him by the -hand, with great emotion said--Edward, I now with gratitude acknowledge, -that Heaven in you hath raised me up a friend to be the comforter of my -old age, and the upholder of my family in the person of my grandson, -whose mind you have enlightened by your precepts, and whose life you are -resolute to guard by your fortitude and friendship. When you had said of -my unhappy son--_He is De Lancaster and must be saved_, you had said -all. John must obey his duty; he must go, and I resign him to you. - -Here he paused, for Colonel Wilson, entering the room, presented to him -his son Henry, now promoted to a majority of dragoons and under orders -to join his regiment. A finer person, and of more martial bearing, could -not greet the eyes of man or woman. His address to the De Lancaster of -ancient days was noble and respectful in the extreme: his brother he -dismissed with that kind of soldierly embrace, which is warmly bestowed, -but quickly dispatched. To John he turned, and measuring him with his -eye from heel to head, as if he had been surveying a recruit, he -exclaimed--May I believe my eyes? can this be John De Lancaster, whom I -have the honour to address? - - “Now in the name of all the gods at once, - “Upon what food hath this our Cæsar fed, - “That he is grown thus great?” - -Here’s a De Lancaster, that shows fair promise to be a man indeed. Sir, -I entreat you; give me your hand, and give me, what I have an hereditary -right to ask, your friendship with it! - -There it is, said John: I give it cordially with both my hands, and hope -to have your friendship in return. - -This salutation being over, Henry Wilson addressed himself again to the -grandfather, and said--I felicitate you, honoured sir, upon this noble -scyon to your ancient stock. Look, if he does not over-top us all! -Edward and I are hardly fit to stand in the same file with him: we are -but summer soldiers: He may let the tempest blow, and bid defiance to -it. - -I hope so, old De Lancaster replied, for he may chance to hear the -tempest blow where he is going. John and your brother Edward are for -Lisbon. - -For Lisbon! cried the major; that is lucky: for Lisbon is my very -destination. If they are bound thither, and will let me join them, I -warrant I’ll keep pace upon the march to the sea side, and when we land -at Lisbon, I’ll engage that they shall find a welcome from some as -worthy and as gallant fellows, as ever yet drew breath. - -Major, the good old man replied, I cannot tell you how I am delighted to -hear that you are going, who have served so long and with so much honour -in Portugal. You must be well acquainted with the country, and perhaps -may know a gentleman, who is returning with them to his friends at -Cintra, Devereux by name. - -Devereux of Cintra! Henry exclaimed. Who knows not him, that ever passed -but half a day at Lisbon? I know him well, and have good cause to know -and honour him for his noble entertainment of me and many of my -army-friends. Devereux is rich in money, richer still in a good name, -and happy in a son, whom all men praise, and in a lovely daughter, whom -every body admires, but no one has presumption to address. - -Yes, there is one, De Lancaster replied, who is as full of presumption -as he is void of merit. He now detailed not only the affair, that -brought young Devereux over to England, but the business, that called -his grandson out of it; and as he did this circumstantially and -minutely, after his manner, the old Colonel also listened to the long -but interesting narrative, though not without frequent grunts and -growlings of displeasure against poor Philip; till when the story -closed--Heaven have mercy on us, he exclaimed, that any man alive will -let himself be scared out of his small wits by a knavish rascal, a -pettifogging bragadocio fellow, half Jew and half attorney, and -forsooth because he comes with parchment and with pistol--’Sdeath, had I -been Philip, and six feet high as he is, I would have made the attorney -eat the parchment, and given the Jew the pistol for his breakfast: -’sblood, I would have laid the bond and baggage both upon the fire and -myself after them, or ever I would turn and nestle in a den with that -hyæna. - -Never fear that, good father, Henry cried; there is a way of dealing -with hyænas, that makes them wondrous tame. If we three, and young -Devereux fourth fellow, are not enough for Madam Rachel and her Jewish -kindred, I have at hand a batch of special pleaders, who, without judge -or jury, will soon settle her business by a process of their own. - -Come then, my friends, rejoined the good old man; let us dismiss the -subject for the present, and leave my grandson to discuss the point with -others of the family, who perhaps may scan this enterprize with more -alarm, than you, whose hearts no danger can appall. Our guest, young -Devereux, has been employed upon his letters; we’ll call him out, and -take a turn or two upon the terrace. The sun is pleasant, and though -mother nature begins to put her winter garments on, yet she looks -cheerful, and invites us forth. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_Our Hero imparts to Amelia Jones his Purpose of setting off for -Portugal._ - - -When Mr. De Lancaster and the Wilsons had departed and left our hero -alone, his heart, which conversation and the flow of Major Wilson’s -spirits had upheld, now sunk within him, for it was not alone Cecilia’s -tender fears, Amelia’s sorrows threw a sadness over him. He knew that he -would find her with his aunt and Mrs. Jennings in their morning room; -but how to draw her from them and unburden his heart to her in private -was the question. He walked up to the gallery, with which their room -communicated, and in passing the door took care his steps upon the -dry-rubbed oaken floor should give a signal, that might reach the ear -of his beloved; it being now about the time for them to take their usual -walk together. - -Hark! said Amelia; sure my ear deceives me, or that is Mr. John De -Lancaster, whom I hear in the gallery. - -I believe your ear is very correct, said Cecilia; it is my nephew’s -step; but go out, my dear, and see: perhaps he wishes you to walk with -him this fine day. Mrs. Jennings and I will finish what we are about, -and postpone our walk till by-and-bye. - -Amelia did not long delay to obey so pleasant an injunction. She sallied -from the room as quick as thought--I guessed that it was you, she cried, -as she went up to him, and held out her hand. Your aunt, who is all -kindness, sent me to you. If you like a walk, I am ready, ’Tis a -charming day. - -Yes, and that voice is charming, he replied; that sweet inviting smile -enchants a heart, that fondly doats upon you: but we won’t walk, Amelia; -at least not yet; for I have news from Lisbon, from my father, not of a -pleasant sort I must confess: and if you will trust yourself with me in -this room, which is my study, and where nobody will interrupt us, I wish -to discourse with you upon it in private--They immediately entered the -room, and, being seated, John began as follows-- - -Amelia, it is my unhappy lot to have a father, who brings shame upon me, -and seems to feel none for himself; in whom, with sorrow I am forced to -say, I cannot trace one spark of manly resolution, or the sense of what -becomes a gentleman to feel. You, on the contrary, amongst the many -excellencies you possess, and I am wanting in, have the advantage also -to be born of parents, though now no more, of whom you may be justly -proud. Judge therefore, my Amelia, how incumbent it must be on me, whose -greatest ambition is to approve myself not quite unworthy of your -esteem, to support, as far as I am able, the credit of a name, which I -am presumptuous enough to hope you will one day condescend to share. My -father calls on me for my assistance; he conjures me to come and -extricate him from a disgraceful contract, fraudulent upon the face of -it, with those Ap Owens; which if I fail to do, he marries that detested -villain’s mother, insults the memory of your newly-buried friend, and -blasts a name, that never yet was stained. - -Married! she cried; your father, and the son of that good man, whom -every one reveres, married so hastily, so rashly, so unworthily! It must -not be. - -True, my Amelia. Look upon this relick, which gives the image of your -gallant father, and to which your piety allots that envied station -nearest to your heart; then, tell me, what would that brave hero say, if -I, aspiring to his daughter’s love, should scruple to obey the call of -honour: Would he not bid me go and save a father? - -He was the friend, that upon such an errand would not have suffered you -to go forth alone. - -And such a friend I have in Edward Wilson; he is resolved to bear me -company. Devereux returns with me, and in his house I find a family of -friends: Nay, my good fortune seems resolved to give me a host of -friends, for Henry, our old Colonel’s eldest son, whom in himself I may -account a host, is now upon his way to join his regiment in Lisbon, and -goes with us. Thus am I trebly furnished with companions. What has my -dear Amelia now to fear, if thus befriended, thus accompanied, and -sanctioned not by the consent alone, but the command of my good -grandfather, I go where duty calls me? Now, my angel!--And, saying this, -he clasped her in his arms. Where can thy gentle spirit apprehend one -distant chance of danger to alarm it? What can my lovely, my betrothed -Amelia, oppose to the necessity, painful although it is, of a short -absence from her? - -Nothing; for the decree is absolute, and what am I but a devoted -creature whose heart is wholly your’s? Nothing remains for me to do, but -to return you my unbounded thanks for all your goodness, and especially -for condescending to impart these tidings, sad as they are, in this -considerate manner to me, who in your absence can expect to live but in -the hope that we shall meet again. I see, I know, I feel that we must -part. - -Here her voice failing for a while she seemed quite overcome by sorrow, -till her tears relieved her; and at length, turning a look upon her -anxious lover, that spoke a conscious dignity of mind, she rose and -said--I am ashamed of this unworthy weakness. I know I ought not to -bewail, but greet, the opportunity, that does you honour. To deserve a -hero I must not show the softness of a child--Come, let us walk. I feel -assurance of a happy issue. When you go forth upon the summons of a -helpless father, I trust that Providence will be your guard: It were a -sin to doubt it--This said, she gave her hand to him, and smiled: He -pressed it to his heart, and thus, endeared each to the other in the -purest sense of virtue’s chaste affection, forth they went-- - - * * * * * - -I am ill at these descriptions: I confess it. Seventy years and seven, -with clouds that hang upon my setting sun, will chill the brain, that -should devise scenes and descriptions warm with youthful love. Still the -chaste maiden and the prudent wife shall turn these leaves with no -revolting hand, nor blush for having read them. The friend of man will -find no fault with me for having given a dark shade here and there upon -my canvass to set off and contrast the brighter tints and nobler -attributes of human nature. Whether in novel, drama or in poem, I love -the mirror, that presents mankind in amiable lights; nor can I think -that frowns or wrinkles are a mark of wisdom; or that asperity becomes -the face of critic or philosopher. - -Whilst I write this, my grandson, a brave youth, of six years service in -the royal navy, born, as I vainly hoped, to grace my name, and -recompense the cares, that I bestowed upon his education, lies (as -’twere before me) dead and as yet unburied: Whilst I not only mourn his -loss, but feel his wrongs, of which the world must hear, if the appeal, -that he had made to justice, is cut short by his untimely death. - -Where then can a heart-wounded man, like me, find comfort but with that -beloved daughter, to whom I gave the memoirs of my life, and who still -lives to cheer its short remains? To her I dedicate this humble work; -for these repeated testimonies of my love, are all the inheritance I can -bequeath her, all my hard fortune hath not wrested from me. - - - END OF THE FIRST BOOK. - - - - - BOOK THE SECOND. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_Morgan of Glen Morgan arrives at Kray Castle._ - - -The preparations, requisite for John De Lancaster’s departure, -necessarily involved a delay of some two or three days, and every hand, -as well as every heart, was occupied in that interesting business. The -cheerfulness of Major Wilson kept up the spirits of the ladies, except -upon one occasion, when he launched out so vehemently in his description -of Miss Devereux’s charms, that, if he had not been so wholly taken up -with his subject, he might have discovered one countenance at least in -the circle of his hearers, that was not much enlivened by his raptures. - -In the afternoon a messenger from Glen Morgan arrived with the following -letter addressed to Colonel Wilson-- - - “Dear Colonel, - - “My gout has left me, and if he never troubles me with his company - again, he has my free leave to keep away. I meditate to take - advantage of his absence, and pay a visit to my good brother at the - castle before his dinner hour to-morrow, _Deo volente_. I shall - bring my live-lumber Mother Richards in the coach with me, as her - small wits just serve her to descant with due precision upon warm - nightcaps and a well-aired bed: she will pester the poor folks in - the castle with her clack, but I shall profit by her care; and you - know there is not a more selfish fellow living than your humble - servant. As my rascally passion for hoarding money has no longer - any object, since you won’t help me off with any of my savings, I - shall tack two more dog horses to my scurvy team, and come in state - like Sir Francis Wronghead, with Giles Joulter riding postillion: - the cattle will get a belly-full in De Lancaster’s stables, and - that is what they don’t often meet with in their own. I have bought - a flaming fine watch of a pedling Jew, which I dare say won’t go; - but it will do for Amelia Jones, if she behaves well, and does not - slight me for that puppy John, for whom I do not care a rush, as - you well know, having lived in solitude till I am unfit for - society, and as cold at heart as the top of a Welch mountain. I am - very glad my brother Lancaster has so much abated of his learned - dissertations, for I have no reading beyond that of a trumpery - story book, and am in as profound a state of blessed ignorance, as - any gentleman in Wales can boast of. Yet Robert surely is an - incomparable man; his honour is so nice, his nature so divine, that - I am almost ready to adore him till he talks Greek, and then it’s - over with me; I know no more of the matter than a blind man does of - colours. - - “Your son Edward is the very _beauty of holiness_: he not only does - faithful service to religion by the strong reasoning powers of his - mind, but renders it lovely by the gracefulness of his manners. My - spiritual pastor and teacher takes quite as much care of his own - body, as he does of my soul: he is silent at his meals, but loud in - talk and positive in argument, when he has satisfied his craving: - He can’t keep his temper at backgammon, when the dice go against - him; yet if I ever slip out a hard word, as we soldiers are too apt - to do, he takes up their cause at once and sermonizes against - swearing. I don’t think this is quite fair; for he swallows his - oaths out of compliment to his cloth, and I from the habits of mine - make it a point of honour to say nothing behind a gentleman’s back - that I won’t say before his face. One day by chance he had not - dined with me, and I sent to him to come and read the evening - prayers to my crew of sinners as usual; for which, by the way, I - pay him an annual stipend: He sent for answer it was not his custom - to turn out after dinner; he has never had it in his power to make - that excuse again, and of course has regularly lulled dame Richards - and the old butler to sleep with his soporiferous homily as surely - as the evening comes. I do not think there is in existence a worse - enemy to edification than metheglin. - - “Lord have mercy on me, what a household of idlers do I keep! I - would make a total reform in my family, if I could flatter myself - that I should live to reap the benefit of it; but that is not upon - the chances, and I am such a lazy blockhead, so mere a caput - mortuum, that I let them work their own will, and am content to lie - at my length, like Sampson’s lion, for the bees to make honey in my - carcase. - - “You must be sure to lay me at the feet of the divine Cecilia; for, - if you don’t do it for me, I can’t do it for myself: I am quite as - inflexible as the wax-work in Fleet-street; attempt to bend me, and - I break asunder. I am absolutely good for nothing, and I dare say - the gout only left me because there was no credit to be got by - killing me: That same _podagra_ is a purse-proud sycophant, and if - he stoop to kiss your toe, were you the pope himself, he will make - you pay dear for the compliment. - - “I suppose you wonder why I write to you so long a letter--so do I; - but though it wearies you with nonsense, it winds up with a truth, - when I profess myself your cordial friend - - and faithful servant - - JOHN MORGAN.” - -When this letter had been read to De Lancaster, joy brightened in his -hospitable countenance: his orders circulated through the Castle for all -things and all people to be put in order to pay proper honours to his -expected visitor. He commented with great good humour upon some -passages in the letter, that seemed to strike his fancy--Though the good -man, he said, is so shy of what he calls my learned disquisitions, I -believe it is only a copy of his countenance, for in fact he is no mean -scholar; but we will muzzle the learned languages, and trust to nothing -but our mother tongue; so take notice, my good Colonel, you will incur -heavy penalties if you give us any of your heathen Greek, whilst my -brother Morgan is in the house. - -And if I do when he is out of it, replied the Colonel, I’ll give you -leave to hang me. - -The next morning when the sun turned out upon the mountain tops, so did -the whole Castle garrison from their sky-chambers on the turret tops, -and gave cheerful note of preparation--Not indeed by _the armourers -accomplishing the knights_, but by the warders and liverymen brushing -up their orange tawnies, and by the squeaking of the pigs and quacking -of ducks, that came unwillingly to be killed and roasted, whilst the -mute inhabitants of the waters resigned themselves to their fate without -a murmur. - -When the family assembled in the breakfast-room, the Colonel appeared in -his uniform, not quite in its first bloom, nor altogether in the last -cut of the fashion; whilst Major Wilson, bright as bullion could make -him, was perfectly caparisoned for court or camp. This ceremonious kind -of etiquette, now thought troublesome and thrown by as obsolete, was -understood by the family of Kray Castle as an acceptable attention to -the good old lord of the soil upon certain gala days, when he was -anxious to receive a visitor with particular respect. - -When the approach of Morgan of Glen Morgan was descried from the castle -windows, and the green and red liveries began to show their colours in -the sunbeams, the alarm bell sounded, the servants mustered in the -gothic hall, and David Williams seated himself on his tripod. Coaches -were not made, as they are now, to accommodate the horses that draw -them, but with due regard to the ease and safety of the company, who -were conveyed in them. Old Morgan of course made his landing good, and -found himself in the arms of his venerable host, surrounded by his -friends, all emulous to greet him with a welcome. - -As he leant upon the arms of De Lancaster and his grandson in his -passage through the hall, he stopped and looked about him--This is -wonderful, he cried; this is above hope, that I should find myself once -more under the protection of these hospitable lares. Alas, when I had -the honour of your company at Glen-Morgan, I little thought of making -any other visit but to the place, from which no traveller returns. -Providence has decreed it otherwise--Well, well, well! a man must have a -stubborn heart, that could not find some cause to be thankful, when a -blessing, such as I am now enjoying is vouchsafed to him. Take notice, -brother De Lancaster, I understand my own unworthiness too well to -intrude upon Heaven’s mercy with many petitions, but I hope I am not -altogether deficient in my thanksgivings. He then addressed himself to -some of the old domestics, as he passed them, and particularly to David -Williams, whom he greeted cordially and with much respect. - -When he entered the drawing-room he turned to Cecilia and said--I now -consider myself within the territory and under the command of the most -amiable lady living. I shall add no grace to you, madam, as a courtier, -but as a subject none can be more loyal. In this manner he paid his -compliments round the circle, reserving his last and most affectionate -address for his grandson, who, having risen from his seat, whilst his -grandfather was speaking to him, when he had concluded, went up to him, -and bending his knee, took his hand to kiss it. The action was -irresistably affecting, and the old man fell upon his neck and wept. The -stillness and silence of the company whilst this was passing made the -scene more awful and impressive: At length the good old man, rallying -his spirits, thus addressed his grandson--I know, my child, that you -are going out of England; therefore it is I am come to take my leave of -you; I also know your motive to be truly filial, and of course agree -entirely with your worthy grandfather in approving of your undertaking. -It is your duty, it is your point of honour, and you have no choice but -to obey. Being a selfish pitiful kind of fellow, perhaps I was a little -shaken, when I heard of it; so to put myself in heart again, I gave out -marching orders, and penned a pacquet to my old comrade the Colonel, in -which I did not treat him with one word of common sense. Now therefore, -John, I am come for other purposes than to whine and whimper, because -forsooth you are going to make a short excursion in good and gallant -company, where I wish I was going with you: but as I can’t do that, I -come to see you and your comrades start, and after you are gone drink to -your good voyage in a glass of old Madeira, and perhaps if my good -friend here is not tired of my dull company, I may intrude upon his -hospitality, and wait till you return. - -Say you so? cried De Lancaster: then I pronounce you to be the kindest -friend and the noblest ancient Briton, that draws the breath of life on -this side of the Wye--Now tell old David to strike up a welcome in his -best bravura. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_Treats of what passed at Kray Castle in the Evening of the Day before -John De Lancaster’s Departure._ - - -The dinner was not only elegant but sumptuous. Sir Arthur Floyd and two -or three more neighbours of respectability had dropped in most -opportunely to complete the party and divert the conversation from -domestic topics. - -When the ladies had retired, and the glass gone gaily round, Morgan -desired to be heard upon a matter of some consequence. Gentlemen, he -said, I reside as you well know, in the near neighbourhood of Denbigh, -and I have had notice given me by the corporation of that borough, that -their worthy representative is at the point of death. I never cultivated -any interest there, and have no great property either in or about the -place. Nevertheless in their free good will to me, (though for what one -merit on my part they bear me that good will neither they nor I can -guess) they offer to elect the friend, whom I shall recommend. They wish -my grandson De Lancaster was of age to represent them, as they hold him -high in honour for the generous part he took in poor Ap Rees’s -melancholy case. I thanked them, but had nobody in my view. As they were -anxious to mark their abhorrence of a certain young baronet, who had -been soliciting their support, this answer of mine did not satisfy them, -but they would needs have me refer myself to my brother-in-law Mr. De -Lancaster, now in the chair beside me; which of course I promised to do, -and now fulfil my word. This I stated to him in a few words before -dinner, and had his permission to call upon him, as I now do, for his -answer. - -I have not a moment’s hesitation, De Lancaster replied, what to answer; -for in the person of my friend Sir Arthur Floyd, luckily here present, I -recognize every quality, that can constitute a character at all points -worthy of their choice--an active magistrate, an honourable gentleman, a -loyal subject, an able incorrupt and independent senator. - -Before the baronet could reply, a joyous shout from our young hero John, -followed by a general plaudit of hands, seemed to leave Sir Arthur -without the power of recollection, or the privilege of choice. - -At length he rose, and, after bowing to Mr. De Lancaster and the -company, he said--I have occasion to know, that the unworthy nephew, -(with whose name I will not stain my lips) of a worthy baronet lately -deceased, had pointed his ambition and directed all his resources to the -attainment of this object, now so unexpectedly and beyond my hopes -proposed to me, and seconded by an applause, that must ever follow what -that gentleman says, even when he deigns to take so humble an individual -as myself for his subject. But as I have hitherto been known as of the -party and politics of that person before alluded to, now become so -abandoned and so despicable, I will on no account accept the support of -any one voter for the borough of Denbigh, until it is clearly and -distinctly ascertained in the most public manner, that I offer myself -upon principles directly opposite to those of that expatriated villain, -(I can call him nothing less,) and that I put my honour and my pledge -into the hands of Mr. De Lancaster, as my friend, my sponsor and my -patron. - -This handsome declaration produced a second and a louder applause, and -that called up Sir Arthur Floyd once more from his seat to return his -thanks to the company and at the same time to remind them of their duty -to the ladies, humbly proposing, with Mr. De Lancaster’s permission, an -adjournment to the drawing-room: upon which gallant and well-timed -appeal, the company with prompt obedience rose, and left the table. - -This was the time when every one was solicitous to approach and pay -their homage to Cecilia De Lancaster; here, like Cato’s daughter, she -presided-- - - “Whilst winning mildness and attractive smiles - “Dwelt in her eyes, and with becoming grace - “Softened the rigor of her father’s virtue--” - -On one side of her sate the sage preceptress of the young and blooming -Amelia, who, on the other side, assisted in the elegant ministration of -those lady-like offices, which it was not then the custom to transfer to -a domestic. The refreshments of the tea-table came recommended to our -lips from the fair hands of the lady president, who delicately -distinguished every person’s right, and without confusion of property -guarded his exclusive cup, and faithfully returned it to the owner: Now -some snuffy hectick house-keeper huddles all together, and -indiscriminately serves out the messes, hot or cold, strong or weak, as -chance directs, to be handed round the room for those, who chuse to try -their luck in a lottery of hot water, very little better than poor -Timon’s dinner to his disappointed parasites. - -As soon as this ceremony was over the folding doors of the drawing-room -were thrown open, and David Williams, led by his son bearing his harp, -and in his habit of office, entered and took the post prepared for him: -he paused and reached out his hand to the seat beside him, as if waiting -for some one else. When immediately old Robin Ap Rees in a mourning vest -with black crape sleeves to the elbows only, and bound about his waist -with a sash of the same stuff, but without medal, or any professional -badge, that could mark him as the bard of the Ap Owens, approached and -made a profound obeisance in the door-way. Upon his appearing every -heart was touched: his tall spare figure, drooping head and shrivelled -arms, with the pale hue of his woe-stricken visage, might have softened -the iron heart of Gallia’s savage tyrant; can we then wonder if the -generous bosoms of those assembled felt that soft impression, which -Nature’s poet terms _the every dint of pity_? - -John, who alone was in the secret of his coming, had whispered Amelia -and his aunt to prepare themselves for his appearance. He now rose, and -took the blind bard by the hand to lead him to his seat, when, upon his -grandfather beginning to speak, he stopped, and whilst Ap Rees turned -respectfully towards the voice that addressed him, Mr. De Lancaster -delivered himself as follows-- - -My good old friend, and favourite of the Muse, to whom I am beholden for -so many tuneful hours, it is now with mixed sensations of satisfaction -and sorrow, that I greet you with a welcome, and assure you that the -friendship and protection, which my grandson shows you, have my warmest -approbation and most cordial concurrence. Your worthiness, your genius, -your afflictions claim his compassionate regard and care. I take this -visit, that you pay us on the eve of his departure, as a tribute of your -esteem, which I am persuaded has cost you some painful efforts to pay, -and which I am not less satisfied is considered and appretiated by him -as it ought to be. I see you have brought your harp, and my minstrel -David Williams, who honours and admires you, will gladly either take a -part with you, where the strain allows of it, or listen to you with -delight, if you rather wish to treat us with some melody of your own. - -Respected sir, Ap Rees replied, my natural wish would be to edify in -silence, whilst my superior (such I am conscious Mr. Williams is) -exhibited that excellence, which has no rival; in me at least that rival -is not found. But, Sir, there stands beside me one--would I could see -him!--an exalted being, endowed by nature with such blessed properties, -that, but to guess at what he wishes done and not to do it, would be in -me, who live upon his bounty, and may be said almost to breathe his air, -a sin of such ingratitude as yet no name is found for, and I hope no -instance ever will occur to put invention to that lamentable test. Your -grandson, Heaven preserve him, willed me to string my tuneless harp -afresh, and second Mr. Williams in a strain, melodiously adapted to the -words which he will chaunt. - -To this of course the assent was universal. The sightless brethren put -their harps in time: Ap Rees enriched the strain with his harmonious -chords, whilst Williams led and sung, as here ensues-- - - “Fearless of danger, I prepare to roam - O’er seas, whose angry billows rage and foam; - An amulet there is, that guards my breast, - Whose power can charm the loudest storm to rest. - - It is the image of my darling maid, - An image by no mortal hand pourtray’d; - Love, the great master, grav’d it on my heart, - And, ere time mars it, life and I must part. - - Is it for loss of me that I descry - That tearful cherub in my fair-one’s eye? - Believe it, Love, we part to meet again, - And purchase years of bliss with hours of pain. - - Full well I know what title he must prove, - Whose hope aspires to gain an angel’s love; - Therefore I go, though fond affection pleads, - Where duty warns me, and where honour leads. - - Farewell to all that’s good and all that’s dear! - Vice hath no pow’r that Virtue ought to fear: - Link’d to my home, whatever course I take, - The chain may lengthen, but can never break.” - -If our hero John was, as I suspect, the author of these lines, it is -plain he was more in love with his mistress, than his muse was with her -poet: But young men are very apt to scratch, when the itch of scribbling -is upon them. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_Our Hero takes his Departure from Kray Castle._ - - -Amelia, who had counted every hour during a sleepless melancholy night, -rose with the break of day, and light of foot, though with a heavy -heart, flitted along the gallery in the dusk, and gently tapping at the -chamber door, where John and she had mutually agreed to pass a parting -hour, was instantly admitted by her lover, accoutered for his journey. - -Of this scene I must decline to attempt a description. I could say -nothing new to such of my readers, who know by experience how -exquisitely pure those feelings are, which virtuous love inspires; and -on such, as have not that experience, my labour would be lost. In short -it was an interview between two young persons, firmly affianced and -fondly attached to each other, and how delicately that must pass, which -honour conducts on one part, and innocence on the other, there needs no -ghost to tell us. - -In the breakfast-room the whole family were assembled. In the -countenances of the several parties any man of common sagacity might -have read the several feelings. Old De Lancaster struggled hard to -maintain a firm and dignified tranquillity, and if he did at any time -betray symptoms of occasional embarrassment, it was only to show that -his philosophy did not absolutely desert him. The person, whose thoughts -seemed to be most disengaged, was the gallant Major, who just then had -the most to do; for the ordering and arranging of the whole cavalcade -had been assigned over to him, and the alacrity, with which he executed -his authority over men, horses and carriages, left him no time for those -tender sentiments and concerns, that seemed to occupy every body else. -Life and spirit animated him; silence and sadness dwelt on all the rest. - -Here was an opportunity for an orator to avail himself of, and an -audience to his heart’s content most happily disposed to hear him: but -Mr. De Lancaster let it go by for reasons no doubt best known to -himself. He did indeed take occasion to impart a few words to Edward -Wilson when he came into the room; but they were only for his private -ear. The ladies kept their station in the back ground, and as much out -of sight as they could contrive. Devereux had very sensibly committed -his adieus to paper, and left them in the hands of Mr. De Lancaster’s -servant to be delivered to him at his better leisure. At length Major -Wilson in a sprightly tone announced all ready; Devereux’s travelling -coach was first at the door, and appointed to lead; himself with John -and the two Wilsons were by the major’s order billeted upon it; our hero -halted a few minutes, after his companions had taken leave, to bid -farewell to the beloved objects of his duty and affection; after which, -having presented himself at the door of the coach, where his three -friends were already seated, he made his parting acknowledgments to the -crowd, who were invoking blessings in his behalf; and passed the outward -gate of the castle with those sensations and in that kind of triumph, -which only virtue can deserve, and gratitude alone bestow. - -When Colonel Wilson, who had gone to the hall-door with his sons, -returned to the breakfast-room, the ladies had departed, and he found -the two grandfathers left in silent sadness to themselves. De Lancaster -was in a meditative posture, with his elbow rested on the arm of his -chair, and his head reclined upon his hand. Poor old Morgan was wetting -a crust of bread with his tears, whilst he was mumbling it with his -teeth. When he had pretty nearly settled the controversy between -swallowing, coughing and choaking, he turned a look upon Wilson, and -said-- - -Brother soldier, there is nothing in this world, for which I so much -envy you as for that piece of wood, that you wear as a supplement to -your composition, and is one part of you at least, which is totally -devoid of feeling. I always knew you were what we call heart of oak, but -I did not till now know that you had an oaken heart. Look at me. Did you -ever see such a blubbering beast as I have made of myself? By the life -of me, Wilson, you are a fine gay fellow, and can have neither water in -your head, nor water at your heart, else methinks you would have pumped -up some of it upon this occasion. May I perish, if I don’t suspect you -have got an hydrophobia in your eyes: at least, I am sure you will -never die of Niobe’s disease--all tears. - -I hope not, Colonel Wilson replied; yet to such tears as you shed I -cannot object, forasmuch as they convince me I was not mistaken, when I -set you down as a very tender-hearted man, though you was pleased to -represent yourself as something without any heart at all. When I now -find you weeping without cause; what would you do, if you had cause? -Why, man, you would drown yourself in tears. Old fellows like me rarely -out-live old habits, let them live as long as they may. I have been a -poor soldier at the command of other people, and bandied up and down, -all my life long. If I had wit enough to understand my duty, I never -wanted will to undertake it; in this light I look upon this trip of your -grandson’s as a call of duty made upon him by his father, who according -to the laws of nature is properly his commanding officer, though Heaven -know he is as little proper for a command as any non-effective officer -can be, though you rummaged the whole shelf to search for him. And now -give me leave, my good friend, to ask you, whether you lament over his -absence because he is out upon his duty, or because he can’t go there -and stay here at one and the same time. Convince me only that he went -away from us when he might honourably have staid at home, and I will own -you have good reason to lament his absence. In the mean time I confess -to you that I do not conceive our dear John De Lancaster to be more in -the way of danger upon this expedition, and with those friends, than he -would be on his horse’s back on a chace after a paltry fox, which it is -no part of his duty to pursue, nor any proof of his merit to overtake. - -Whilst the Colonel had been thus haranguing, Mr. De Lancaster had -shifted his meditative posture, and paid attention to what was passing: -He now took up the argument, and replied--Enough said, my good Colonel, -enough said! You have a right to argue for duty, having yourself -uniformly obeyed and fulfilled it, as an officer and a gentleman. My -brother Morgan does not want to be convinced that his grandson is gone -upon an honourable errand; but you are well aware, that the painful and -enfeebling illness, with which he has been visited, will naturally shake -even the firmest and the bravest spirit. - -In my own particular I am not a man prone to shed tears: If I were, I -confess to you, Colonel Wilson, I should be sooner thrown into the -melting mood by the contemplation of a generous act, or noble sentiment, -than by the pathos of a tragedy, or the pity-moving lamentations of a -desponding lover, or a whining mendicant. - -A servant now delivered the letter Devereux had left for Mr. De -Lancaster, who read as follows.-- - - “Sir, - - “The hospitality and kindness I have experienced at Kray-Castle - have made an impression on my mind, that can never be obliterated. - The purposes of my coming to England have been completely obtained, - and I am now returning to my family fully armed with evidence, not - only to rescue them from any chance of a disgraceful connection, - but also prepared to co-operate with your amiable grandson and his - friends in their measures for averting the like disgrace from you - and your respectable and ancient house. Believe me, Sir, this will - be a task, that can involve no representative of your’s in either - difficulty or danger; for I can confidently assure you that upon my - father’s statement of the case to the minister of Portugal, that - court will not permit a fugitive from the laws of his country, more - especially a British subject, to avail himself of its protection - for escaping with impunity; much less will it be allowed him to - enforce a bond illegally obtained for purposes the most - inadmissible and outrageously unfair. - - “As I have sent letters to announce our coming, I am sure my father - and friends will be on the shore to receive Mr. John De Lancaster - upon his landing, and will immediately conduct him and his whole - party to our house in Lisbon, where no attention will be omitted, - that can mark their sensibility of the abundant favours I have - received from you and your’s, which must ever be remembered with - the utmost gratitude by him, who is with profound respect, Sir, - - your much obliged and - most devoted servant, - GEORGE FREDERICK DEVEREUX.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_Our Hero arrives at Lisbon. Is hospitably received by the Father of -young Devereux; accompanies him to his House: What there occurs is -related._ - - -We must now attend upon the travellers, to whom no circumstance occurred -upon their journey worth relating, and who, after an expeditious and -safe voyage, with fair wind and favourable weather, dropped anchor in -the Tagus, and were quickly visited by Mr. Devereux the father, who came -on board, whilst his barge and rowers, handsomely appointed, waited -alongside. - -Upon the first sight of this gentleman, John De Lancaster eagerly -enquired for his father, and why he did not come off from the shore: the -answer was that his situation just then did not admit of it. - -He is ill, said De Lancaster. - -Indeed he is far from well, rejoined the other. - -May I not go off to him directly? - -The officers of health are on board, said Mr. Devereux; but I have -obtained leave to bring you on shore directly: Your friends however and -servants must put up with a short detention, till certain forms are -dispensed with. John De Lancaster, conducted by Mr. Devereux, -immediately went over the ship’s side, and the barge pushed off for the -landing-place. - -Tell me, I conjure you, sir, said our hero, the truth without reserve, -in what situation I am to find my father, and believe me, Mr. Devereux, -whatever that may be, though I have a heart to feel it as a son, I trust -I have a proper sense of my duty to meet the dispensation as I ought. - -Your father is not dead, Devereux replied, although I must not disguise -from you that his life is despaired of. He has been infamously treated, -and, as it is presumed, unfairly wounded, either by some hired assassin -or by Sir David Ap Owen, with whom the unhappy gentleman, it seems, had -been induced to trust himself, and turn out alone to settle their -differences by a duel. This is all we can at present collect of an -affair, that has a very black appearance. Suspicion is strong against Ap -Owen, who has absconded, and the ministers of justice are sent out in -all directions after him. He is not yet discovered; and your poor -father, who is now attended by his surgeons in my house, I am sorry to -say, is in no capacity of giving us any information, his senses being -totally deranged. - -To this De Lancaster for a few minutes was in no condition to make -answer, but put up his hand to his eyes, and suffered grief to overpower -him. The barge now approached the landing place, where Devereux’s -carriage was in waiting. Our hero rallied his spirits, landed from the -barge with an assumed composure, took his seat in the coach, and soon -found himself at the door of a magnificent house in the great square, -that opens to the river. - -Ushered by his friendly host through a noble hall, John De Lancaster -ascended the stairs, and cautiously entered the chamber, where his -father was lying on a couch, at the side of which a young lady was -standing, who made a sign for him to stop. It was the daughter of Mr. -Devereux, and by the faint light, that was admitted into the chamber, -the elegance of her form struck on the instant with such a resemblance -to the image ever present to his mind, that in the agitation of the -moment the words involuntarily escaped him in a murmur loud enough for -her to hear--Heaven defend me, is it my Amelia, or some sister angel, -that I see?--Alas, she said, ’twould be an angel’s office to afford you -comfort; for human help I fear is all in vain--He bowed, and approached -the couch. - -A death-like insensibility, though not death itself, seemed to have -locked up all the vital powers of the unhappy object, which to behold, -now chilled the filial heart of our afflicted hero. He took his father’s -hand, and turning to the lady by his side--It is not absolutely cold, he -said, nor is his pulse quite gone. If I could waken him from this morbid -trance, and get him once to turn his eyes upon me, I think that he would -know me. - -Try it, she said; and speak to him. Perhaps your voice may rouse him: -Our’s have no effect. - -Father! he cried, my father, do you hear me? I am your son. I am come -to visit you; to comfort you, to avenge you. Look on me; recollect me! -it is I; ’tis John De Lancaster, who speaks to you. - -The filial voice awakened him; the animating call stayed the emancipated -spirit, even in the act of parting on its flight, and Death, at Nature’s -privileged appeal still to be heard, forbore to stop the pulses of the -heart, and gave the reinstated senses once more use of their suspended -functions. - -When Maria Devereux saw this, she exclaimed--He lives; he stirs! Let in -more light, that he may see his son. - -The dying father had now unclosed his eyes, and the wild ghastly stare, -with which at first he fixed them on his son, as his mind gained its -recollecting power, softened, and by degrees assumed a look, indicative -of that intelligence, that gleam of satisfaction and delight, which in -his mercy God sometimes vouchsafes, when he releases his afflicted -creatures, and calls them to his peace from persecution and a world of -woe. - -At length a voice, yet audible, exclaimed--My son, my son! I see you, -hear you: You are come to close your father’s eyes--May Heaven reward -you for it! Ah John, John, I am murdered, basely murdered.--Here he -checked, and straggled hard for words. At length he faintly cried, Reach -me a cordial; let me wet my throat, and I’ll relate it to you. - -Maria, who stood ready on the watch, quickly presented him the cordial -draught. He made signs to be raised up in his couch: It was providently -so constructed as to effect what he wished for without disturbance of -his person, or alteration of his posture. The fair hand, that brought -it, lifted it to his lips; (it is to female feeling and compassion that -we must look for offices like these in our last moments.) Philip felt -the kindness--Bless you! he cried, and drank what she bestowed to the -last drop: the comfort, that it gave him, was immediate: his eyes, which -now he turned upon his son, appeared to brighten, and he thus addressed -him-- - -Oh! now I see you clearly and distinctly: now I perceive that power is -mercifully granted me to recollect and tell you my sad story. I will be -brief however, for I feel that this reprieve is only for a time: Now -listen therefore, and record my words--When that Ap-Owen, that atrocious -villain, heard you were coming over, he called upon me, and with furious -threats demanded of me instantly to wed the base-born woman, whom he -calls his mother, or satisfy the bond. ’Twas then, though much too late, -I recollected what was due from a De Lancaster, and shortly told him -that his threats were vain; I would do neither: I abhorred a duel, as he -well knew, but I would sooner die than stain my name, and stoop to such -extortion and disgrace. He raved; he swore, and foamed like one -possessed: he sprung upon me, and aimed to seize my throat; I grappled -with him, and hurled him on the floor. He rose, and drew his sword; I -had drawn mine the whilst in my defence, and my blood boiled within me. -Coward, I cried, assassin, I defy you! Here, or elsewhere, I am ready on -the moment.--Then follow me, he said, and in a spot, where I’ll conduct -you, not two furlongs off, we’ll settle our dispute. I followed him, -unthinking as I was; for he had galled me past my power to bear; and in -a grove, as I was entering it, some one from behind gave me a blow, that -felled me to the ground: There as I lay, but not deprived of sense, the -inhuman monster, the unmanly coward, rushed on me as I was in act to -rise; and thrust me through the body with his sword: he fled, and left -the murderous weapon in me: I bled profusely; could not call for help, -nor raise myself from off the ground; I fainted, and thenceforward -cannot account how time has passed, till now that I revive to see you -and that beauteous form, that sweet benevolence, that gave me drink; and -I suppose, is she, whom my dead wife wished you to marry; and, if you -are married, may Heaven confirm my blessing on you both.--Ah, I relapse -again; all, all is past--farewell for ever.-- - -This said, his head collapsed upon his shoulder; his eye-lids dropped; -he strove convulsively to grasp the clothes that were upon him; his -bosom heaved as if about to burst, and one deep sigh, the last he drew, -released his struggling spirit, and left him outstretched at his utmost -length, a lifeless corpse. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_A further Account of what occurred at Lisbon after John De Lancaster’s -Arrival at that Place._ - - -Such was the melancholy end of Philip, son of old De Lancaster, and -father of our hero. Heaven endowed him with moderate faculties, and -indolence conspired to make that little less. The place, which he left -vacant in the list of the De Lancasters from earliest time, was scarcely -less a chasm whilst he lived, than now when he was dead. Yet weak and -dormant as his spirit was, repeated aggravations from Ap Owen roused him -at last, and in the moment of his unguarded courage he fell into an -artful villain’s snare and was destroyed. - -The memoirs of poor Philip’s life would hardly fill a page; but the -reflections, that might be deduced from his untimely death would be a -lesson of useful warning to those listless idlers, those noneffectives -in creation’s roll, who seem destined to live for no worthier purpose, -except to turn that vital air to waste, which might have fed the lungs -of nobler beings, who either patiently employ their hours over the -midnight lamp in learned toil; or, by their country called to -unwholesome climes, where the extremes of heat or cold are fatal, go -forth and die by thousands. - -Still nature pleaded to the filial heart of John De Lancaster--That -mangled corpse, on which you look, gave life to you, and was your -father--Keenly he felt the appeal, and, whilst his eyes dwelt on the -piteous object, the big tears rolled down his cheeks: nor could he quite -abstain from exclamation, or keep his fiery spirit in command, whilst -the last words his dying father uttered still sounded in his -ears--Never, he cried, bear witness for me, Nature! will I revisit my -beloved home, till I have obtained, or executed, justice on the villain, -the out-lawed enemy of God and man, who did this murderous deed. This is -the second corpse, that he has made, and sent the immortal spirit to -arraign him at Heaven’s tribunal. Dreadful wretch, what must the torment -of his conscience be. - -Whilst these or words like these, burst from his lips, as still he -stood, alone, contemplating the dismal scene, Edward, the younger -Wilson, came behind him, and embracing him, whilst he spake--Bear up, he -cried: remember God allows these trials to improve and exercise our -virtue: every sorrow, that may fall on us by his dispensation, may be -converted to our use and profit. And now, if what I say required a proof -how prompt his justice is, I have it for you--The criminal is seized and -in your hands--Aye! that is right: address your praise to Heaven! there -fix your thoughts, and cease to mourn for him, whose cause is heard, -whose injuries are redressed--But you shall have the matter as it -passed. - -After you left the ship Devereux obtained intelligence that Owen had -been traced, and was suspected to have got on board a certain vessel, -which he pointed out, then lying near us, bound to the Western Isles, -and ready for a start. The man, who told him this, came from the shore, -and was apprised, that orders had been out to search for him, and seize -him on suspicion of murder. Upon this information instantly Devereux -with Henry and myself, well armed, took to the boat (the master of the -pacquet freely granting it) and in a few minutes, claiming our right of -search, we were admitted; and rushing to the cabin, there discovered -Owen, who, though disguised in the apparel of a common sailor, made no -attempt to contradict our charge, such was his terror on the sight of -us, and his surprise exceeding all description. We told him that our -errand was to seize him--What had he done?--What you must answer for -with your life, we replied. Murdered a noble gentleman, your countryman, -your friend, Philip De Lancaster.--Is he then dead? he cried, and -started with horror, trembling and ghastly pale.--Two or three of the -by-standers instantly exclaimed--He’s guilty, he confesses it: Away with -him! He sunk down on his chair, and hid his eyes. My brother now -addressed him by his name, and said--Sir David Owen, you must come with -us. The laws demand you. You know both who I am, and what I am: A Major -in the King of England’s army serving in Portugal; and in the right of -that commission I arrest you as his subject, on the charge of murder; -and I am sure, none in this vessel will attempt to stop me in the due -execution of my duty. - -None, cried the Captain; pass! Let all stand clear! ’Twas then we saw, -in the behaviour of that wretched man, how abject guilt can be: That -insolence, which I have witnessed, now was sunk into despondency, and -but that pity would in me have been almost a crime, I could have pitied -him, when in a melancholy tone, he said--I am your prisoner. Misery -beyond mine, man cannot suffer. You have known me, Major Wilson, in -better days: I am a gentleman; at least I have been such: Don’t let your -people use me ill, I pray you--He was at this time in so helpless a -state, that we were obliged to have him lifted into the boat. Henry -gave orders to be rowed to the shore: A considerable party of his -officers and men were there discovered waiting for his landing: When we -approached, they cheered him, and as soon as he had set his foot on -shore, the air again rang with their shouts--Comrades! he cried, as they -were crowding round us, you will stifle us with your kindness: Form a -circle, and give us air; don’t you perceive the prisoner is fainting? He -caused his soldiers instantly to make a kind of military litter by -taking hands, and in this manner they bore off the wretched criminal by -his order to the guard-house. Whilst this was passing I had taken notice -of an officer in the same uniform with the others, who had separated -himself from his comrades, and stood apart from the circle, not -interfering, but much interested, as it seemed, in what was going on. -When my brother had given orders for his men to take Ap Owen to the -guard-house, he called this young officer to him, and bade him take a -party with him to Mr. Devereux’s house in the square, for the purpose of -escorting us through the streets, where a crowd was now collecting. This -young gentleman is now on guard upon the house, waiting till my brother -shall come, and dismiss him: Mr. Devereux invited him to accept of some -refreshment; but he declined it on the plea of duty to the special -orders of his commanding officer. - -Here Edward Wilson concluded his narrative, and John De Lancaster, who -had heard him with the most profound attention, now took his hand, and -pressing it to his bosom--Worthiest and best of men, he said, I see with -humblest thankfulness the hand of Heaven in these events, which you -have faithfully related to me; for, wonderful although they are, yet I -am sure nothing but truth can issue from your lips. The cause no longer -is with me; nor ought I to indulge a fruitless grief, much less an angry -and revengeful spirit. ’Tis henceforth only these unburied reliques, -this breathless piece of clay that I must guard. But in that duty I must -be alert, for decency requires, that with our quickest forecast and -dispatch we must provide for this corruptible, and take such instant -means, as may secure it from these melting heats till our departure: In -the mean time we must look out to find a proper house, respectably -appointed for the purpose of paying all those honours to the dead, which -must not be omitted on my part. - -Having said this, he declared himself ready and sufficiently composed -to pay his respects to the family, which had so hospitably received him -and so highly merited his thanks for their benevolent attentions to the -unfortunate deceased. - -At the foot of the great stair-case, which landed in the hall, he was -met by Mr. Devereux and his son, who ushered him into an elegant and -spacious room: Here he had an opportunity of returning his -acknowledgements to the amiable and compassionate Maria in a better -manner, than he was in a capacity for doing, when she was present with -them, whilst his father expired. - -At her solicitation he drank some wine and partook of some refreshments; -and as the delicate consideration of his worthy host had allowed no -stranger to intrude unseasonably upon him, he found no other calls to -satisfy but those of gratitude, and whilst he saw a tender sympathy and -sweet benevolence in all around him, his spirits brightened, and his -youthful heart glowed with devotion, thankfulness and love of that pure -quality, that sacred character, which, springing up from earth, reaches -to heaven, and man partakes of in its way to God. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_There are Secrets in all Families._ - - -After an hour thus passed had calmed our orphan hero’s agitated mind, a -word was given out at the hall door, and the centinels were heard to -salute, when immediately Major Wilson was announced, and young Devereux -hastened to give him welcome, and usher him into the room, where the -family were assembled. The gallant soldier entered, and was followed by -the officer who had received him at the door. In the act of paying his -devoirs to Maria Devereux, and in the manner of her receiving him, there -was an expression of surprise; and a certain instant change of -countenance on both sides, which probably did not escape the notice of -any one there present. It struck her father in particular so strongly, -that when the blood, that had rushed into, and overspread her -countenance, had now given place to an alarming paleness, he anxiously -enquired if she was not suddenly taken ill. She confessed being a little -sensible just then of the extraordinary heat upon letting in the -outward air from the door, but that she was quite as suddenly relieved, -and her looks soon testified to the truth, or, more properly speaking, -the plausibility of her excuse. - -The Major in the mean time was not wholly unembarrassed, neither did he -give the directest answers to the many speeches, compliments and -enquiries, that were successively addressed to him. As soon however as -he obtained a respite, anxious to turn the general attention to some -other object, than the lady, who had so lately engrossed it, he -addressed himself to the young officer, whom he had introduced, and in -an under-tone, that was not quite a whisper, said in his ear, familiarly -laying his hand upon his shoulders--Roberts, my dear boy, I would wish -you to step to the guard-house--The obedient subaltern was instantly on -his legs--Nay, said the Major, I don’t want to hurry you out of this -company, to which, above all others, I should be most happy and most -proud to have you known, but I sincerely think it would be right for you -to visit a certain person there, who earnestly solicited to see you; and -being sure that what you ought to do you ever will do, I promised in -your name, that you should come. Go then, and tell the officer on duty, -you have my leave to be admitted to the prisoner under his charge--The -young man bowed respectfully, and asked if he had any further orders. -The Major upon referring to Mr. Devereux if he had any commands for the -party, having received for answer that he had none, said--Take off your -centinels; march them with your party to the barracks, and there -dismiss them--This was answered by a second military obeisance to his -commanding officer, and whilst Mr. Devereux was politely saying, that he -hoped to have a better opportunity of being known to him, he made his -acknowledgements with great respect, and departed. - -I should guess, said Edward Wilson, from what I observed of that very -interesting youth, that there is something in his mind of a melancholy -nature, that oppresses him. - -There is every thing in his mind, the Major replied, that does honour to -his feelings. You perhaps observed him stand aloof whilst we were busy -with the prisoner. That young man, by the death of his father Colonel -Roberts, is at this very time next heir to the entire estate of the -Ap-Owens under strict entail. Knowing this to be his situation, I -remarked the delicacy of his conduct with peculiar satisfaction, and I -also happen to know that he purchased into the regiment with money -supplied for that purpose by the unhappy man, whom he is gone to visit. -There was a trace of human kindness in that act, and therefore I record -it. There are packages and trunks belonging to the criminal, which we -brought ashore and have in safe keeping; these are most likely of -considerable value, and in the situation which this young man stands -towards the present owner of those effects, I think it right for his -sake that I should be present at the opening of them. - -With these words he rose to take his leave; Maria’s eyes followed him to -the door; the glance was not unobserved by him; he bowed to her, and -having beckoned to his brother, Edward instantly obeyed the signal, and -they passed the windows arm in arm hastening to overtake young Roberts -and his party. - -Well! cried the elder Devereux, that is indeed a soldier and a -gentleman. Never did I contemplate courage, honour and benevolence more -strongly charactered in the human form and countenance. I am enchanted -with Major Wilson, and I hope he will allow me to cultivate his -friendship. - -A nobler being does not breathe the air, De Lancaster exclaimed. He is -the true son of the best of fathers, and full brother to my best of -friends. - -He is the preserver of my life, Maria said, and the tears glistened in -her eyes, as she uttered it. - -Astonishment seized the father and the brother upon this sudden and -extraordinary declaration. De Lancaster started from his seat, and -offered to withdraw. The generous Maria immediately interposed to -prevent him--Stay, sir, I conjure you, she exclaimed, and as you must -have noticed my agitation upon seeing Major Wilson, I beg you will be -pleased to hear me state the circumstance that caused it. - -Right! cried the father, ’tis expected of you. Every thing that is -honourable, said the brother, may be expected from a character like -Major Wilson’s. I’ll pledge myself that nothing can be told of him, -which my sister may not repeat without a blush. - -I thank you for that handsome testimony, rejoined De Lancaster. Miss -Devereux has said, that my friend Wilson is the preserver of her life; -every body of course, that has the honour to know her, must feel an -obligation to respect and honour him. - -You may recollect, said Maria, addressing herself to her father, when -Count La Lippe had his grand review at Cintra about this time last year, -you permitted me to be present at that brilliant spectacle: upon a -charge made by the cavalry my horse became unquiet, and, rearing, -dislodged me from my saddle, whilst, my foot being entangled in the -stirrup, rendered my situation that of the most imminent danger: in this -perilous moment, as I was in the very act of falling, I found myself in -the arms of an officer, who at the same time that he was supporting me, -found means by an extraordinary exertion to stop my horse, and rescue me -in the very instant, when my life would have been at the mercy of the -terrified animal. When my alarm and agitation had so far subsided as to -enable me to speak, I did not fail, as you may well believe, to render -those acknowledgements and thanks, that were so justly due: I told the -stranger who I was, and that I had a father, who would be most anxious -to express to him his grateful sense of the service he had rendered to -me: perceiving him to be a British officer, I also besought him to -inform me by what name you, sir, were to discover and address the -preserver of my life. When I looked to him for his answer, he seemed to -be at that moment in even greater agitation than I was myself, and I had -reason to apprehend he had received some hurt by the violence of my -horse: he hastily replied, that he was to leave Lisbon the next morning, -and probably might not return to it again: after a short pause, -seemingly to recover breath, or perhaps from the effect of pain, he -added (and I well remember the very words he used, and the expressive -manner of his uttering them)--Alas, madam, I am a mere soldier of -fortune, and the only happy fortune, that has hitherto befallen me, is -this, which I now enjoy, of having rendered you some little service: -With the joy this gives me I am so abundantly rewarded, that I cannot -think of receiving any other acknowledgements, than those, which you -have honoured me with already--Whereupon, seeing my party come to me, -and that I was safe and unhurt, he apologized for the necessity of his -abrupt departure, and hastened to recover his charger and rejoin his -regiment. Judge now, my dear father, when I recognized my preserver in -the person of Major Wilson, whether I had not cause to be affected by -the conscious grateful sense of my unspeakable obligations to him. - -Surely, my beloved child, replied the father of the beautiful and -ingenuous Maria, you had just and ample cause for the sensibility of -your feelings on the sight of Major Wilson; and I and your brother, and -every one, that values and esteems you, are bound for ever to esteem and -value him. Had he been the poorest private in the army, I would have -made him affluent for life: it would have been my duty: But when I find -myself indebted for every thing that is dear and precious, to a man of -Major Wilson’s amiable and engaging character, what can I say less, in -the warmth of my paternal feelings, than that if he were to claim my -daughter herself as a recompence for my daughter’s life, I, as far as -my authority extends, should have no scruple to confirm his title? - -Upon hearing these words, young Devereux eagerly started from his seat, -and in the enthusiasm of his friendship for Wilson, exclaimed--That is -nobly said! that, my dear father, that is like yourself: I second it -with my whole heart. - -What our delighted and approving hero felt, he properly and -considerately kept to himself, as far as his expressive countenance -would suffer him to conceal it; in the mean time, Maria (the sensitive -and interesting Maria) covered with blushes, and dissolving into tears -which had every grateful, every virtuous affection for their source, -took her father’s hand, tenderly pressed it to her lips, and hastened -out of the room. - -You have allowed me, Mr. Devereux, said our hero, to witness a domestic -scene, revealing secrets, which my honour never will permit me to -violate, and inspiring me with an admiration of your lovely daughter, -and a respect for you and my friend your son, which nothing can exceed. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_A Chapter, which disposes of one of the principal Characters in the -History, and concludes the second Book of the third and last Volume._ - - -The next morning early, as soon as John De Lancaster had risen and was -dressed, a note from Cornet Roberts signified, that he was waiting, and -requested leave to be admitted to him in private for a very few minutes. -This was instantly granted, and his visitor introduced the business he -was upon by premising, that it concerned a guilty but repentant object, -whom he was sensible it did not become him even to name in Mr. De -Lancaster’s hearing, unless he had his free permission so to do. - -Assure me only, said De Lancaster, that the person you allude to is -really penitent, and I shall then think it my duty to hear and attend to -any thing, you have to tell me of Sir David Ap Owen, or from Sir David. - -That he is truly penitent, replied Roberts, I most seriously believe, -and, as one proof of it, I have received from his hands this bond, which -with contrition he returns to you by mine. - -He considers himself as a dying man, and from what he hinted at -respecting his avoidance of a public execution, I cannot but suspect -that he has taken means to intercept that punishment. I understand from -my kind friend Major Wilson, that you are apprised of my connection and -peculiar situation with respect to this unhappy man. I therefore flatter -myself you will not be displeased when I inform you, that I have here in -my hand a full confession, every word of which was dictated by him, and -signed in his own hand-writing with his name, of the dreadful crime, -which has made you fatherless, and also of another infamous proceeding -of a complicated nature, respecting a much-injured young woman, daughter -of his uncle’s bard Ap Rees, and now deceased. Under the dreadful -consciousness of these atrocious deeds he is now approaching to his last -hour. Condition more calamitous than this, is not in mortal man to -suffer or conceive.--In a trunk, of which I have the key, there is a -considerable sum of money, raised and amassed by him before and since -his leaving England, as a resource I should suppose against events, -which he had reason to foresee and dread. Out of this money he has -directed me to purchase an annuity for the joint lives of the father and -brother of the poor girl, who was the victim of his cruel and flagitious -passions. Of his mother he speaks with bitterest abhorrence, accusing -her as the incendiary, who inflamed his animosity against you, and -spurred him on to the late horrid act to satisfy her malice and revenge. -She has thrown herself into the convent of Saint Barbara, and by a -letter I am charged with he solemnly adjures her to devote the remnant -of her days to repentance and atonement. This sir, is the sum of what I -am commissioned to report to you, except the last most anxious wish of -his heart, a wish however, which he justly fears you cannot be induced -to grant, though he credits you for charity of the sublimest sort; -namely, that you would condescend to look upon him in his extreme -distress, and suffer him to humble himself before you, though despairing -of forgiveness. - -Sir, replied De Lancaster, with the lessons and example of our Heavenly -Master ever before me, it is not in my heart, wounded although it be, to -turn away from this repentant criminal, and not comply with his request, -however painful it must be to grant it. Tell him I’ll come to him within -this hour; nay, if you rather wish it, I am ready at this very minute to -go with you. Perhaps what you conjecture may be true; and, if it be, no -time is to be lost. - -This said, the generous youth, without a moment’s loss, took his visitor -by the arm, and with a ready mind, prepared for every trial, hastened to -the melancholy abode, where, upon giving in his name to the officer upon -guard, he was admitted to the wretch, who had been his unrelenting enemy -through life, and had at length completed the full measure of his malice -and atrocity by the murder of his father. - -Upon entering the room, John De Lancaster had no sooner come within the -centinels, than he stopped, and, addressing himself to the prisoner, -said--Sir David Ap Owen, I am come at your desire to convince you that I -am incapable of withholding from you any thing on my part, that can -facilitate and further your repentance, which I truly hope may be so -perfect and sincere, as to atone for your offences, grievous as they -have been, and, through the intercession of your Redeemer, recommend you -to the mercy and forgiveness of your God. - -The prisoner had been reading; he raised his eyes from the book, and -fixing them with wild amazement upon the person of the man he had so -deeply injured, now beyond all his hopes presenting himself at his call, -and addressing him with these solemn and impressive words, when struck -on a sudden to the heart (the mortal dose conspiring with his conscience -to arrest and stop its pulses) he gave a hideous shriek and fell into a -swoon. - -There were two centinels within the room; the officer upon guard had -entered with De Lancaster, and his relation Mr. Roberts was also -present to assist him. By their efforts, and the medical assistance -within their call, the prisoner after a time was brought out of his fit; -De Lancaster in the mean while never stirring from the spot where he -stood. - -There was evidently a change and some derangement of features observable -in the prisoner after this attack: his mouth was in a degree drawn -aside, and he seemed to speak with difficulty: he made himself however -understood, and asked if he might be permitted to be in private with the -gentleman, who had condescended to visit him--I am struck with death, he -said, and if the door was opened to me, I could not walk out of it.--To -this the officer made answer, that his orders did not allow him in any -case to take off the centinels, and of course his suit could not be -granted.--I submit, replied the dying suicide, and now when I am -hastening to the presence of that awful Judge, from whom nothing that I -have done, nothing that I have meditated, can be hidden or concealed, -what avails it who is present to hear and to attest my full and free -confession that I am guilty of the heinous crime, for which I justly -suffer this imprisonment, so rigidly, but so deservedly, enforced? It -was because the early virtue of that excellent youth, whom I have now -made fatherless, overshadowed my unworthiness, that my envious spirit -rose against him; it was the praise, which he obtained and merited from -all who spoke of him, that galled my pride, and fostered that malignity -of mind, which hurried me along from step to step to the commission of -the direst acts that ever weighed on a departing soul. To all my sins I -now have added suicide, and defrauded public justice of its rightful -punishment by being my own executioner. I have been long provided with a -poisonous and tasteless mixture, which, (with horror I confess it) was -destined to be made my instrument of vengeance upon the only woman, that -ever touched my savage heart--the innocent and beautiful Maria Devereux; -and what was it inspired me, monster as I am, with such a horrid -purpose? it was because she honourably withstood my splendid offers, and -candidly avowed that her affections were fixed upon an unknown gallant -officer, who had saved her life, and by that action won her grateful -heart.--Blessed be Heaven, that hath prevented this!--I had more to say, -much more, but it is lost; my memory wanders, and I feel the deadly -drug within me now in operation--I know, I know that there is joy -reserved for that benevolent, that blessed youth, who even now with -eyes, that beam divinity, looks on me whilst imploring pardon with my -dying breath, and pities even the murderer of his father. - -Here his voice failed; the deleterious dose rushed to the seat of life; -another spasm seized him; his senses vanished; death was in his visage, -horrible to behold; the medical assistants came about him, pronounced -him gone; the poison had prevailed. The awful consummation was complete. - - - END OF BOOK THE SECOND. - - - - - BOOK THE THIRD. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_Our Hero meets Major Wilson, and a Conference takes place, which to -some of my Readers may perhaps be interesting._ - - -As John De Lancaster was crossing the barrack-yard on his return from -the guard-house, he was met by Major Wilson, to whom he imparted the -tragical event, which he had so lately witnessed. When the Major had -given directions for the measures necessary to be taken in consequence -of the prisoner’s death by suicide upon his own confession, he expressed -his wish to De Lancaster, that he would step aside with him into his -private room, having something on his mind, that he was anxious to -communicate to him. - -As soon as they had seated themselves the Major said--Though the sudden -exit of this wretched man naturally takes up your thoughts, and must -also occupy my attention, yet I seize a few minutes, my dear John, to -inform you of something that has passed between Mr. Devereux and me this -morning; and I am persuaded you will pardon the intrusion, though it is -a matter, that relates entirely to myself. I had not long parted from -that gentleman, when I met you, and his business with me was to request, -that I would change my quarters, and accept of the accommodation of his -house, whilst you and Edward took up your abode with him. When I -declined this polite invitation on the plea of regimental duties, his -kindness led him to urge it upon me with a degree of earnestness, that -seemed very particular, and embarrassed me not a little; for in fact I -had more reasons for withstanding his importunity than were convenient -for me to disclose to him. To you, my dear John, I can tell all the -truth, and the truth is, that like a silly puppy as I am, I have -something more than a weak side towards his fair daughter, and don’t -choose to expose my folly in either his or her company. You must know, -my friend, that yesterday was not the first time of my seeing her. In a -situation of some danger from an unruly horse at a review, it was my -fortune to be of service to her; by which adventure I dislocated my -wrist, and have felt a pain in a certain part under my left ribs ever -since: It occurred to me that her father had been let into the secret of -this piece of service, on my part, and was seeking an opportunity for -making me some sort of return, which you can well believe I am too proud -to allow of; besides which-- - -Besides what? said John (availing himself of a pause in the Major’s -narrative) can’t you go on with your story, and fairly own that you are -not one whit more in love with Maria Devereux than Maria Devereux is -with you? do you suppose that I have no eyes, no observation to discover -that? - -Nonsense! rejoined the Major, you allude to what occurred upon our -meeting yesterday, and mistake gratitude for liking. Now gratitude, you -know, won’t serve her purpose, for I want no return; and love would make -an ass and a fool of me, were I to let it get the mastery of me; for -what am I? ’Twould be just as possible to persuade his faithful majesty -to give me the princess of Portugal to wife, as to propose my ridiculous -self, (Major Wilson forsooth, with a sword by his side and a bit of -ribband in his hat) to a man of Devereux’s sort, whose coffers overflow -with the gold of Brazil, and whose daughter is a rock of diamonds, -eclipsed indeed by the lustre of her eyes, and the bright display of ten -thousand thousand charms, which I am not quite philosopher enough to -withstand, nor fool enough to encounter? Why, John, if I could suppose -for a moment that she had any liking for me, s’death! I should run -crazy, nay, I know not where I should run.-- - -Into her arms to be sure, John replied; I don’t fancy you need run any -where else, if you knew half as much of your own case as I do. But tell -me first how you brought yourself off with Mr. Devereux. Didn’t you -accept of his invitation, and won’t you post yourself in the citadel, -when the gates are opened to you? - -Not for the world, said Wilson: ’Tis not in my nature to be so -presumptuous. In short I managed my affairs most wretchedly; honesty got -the better of me, and after blundering out several false excuses, I at -last let out the true one, and, like a downright John-Bull blockhead -fairly told him, that his daughter was too captivating, and I too much -captivated, to venture any nearer to a lovely and enchanting object, -whom, if I were rash enough to approach, it would be only to expose my -folly, and destroy my peace. I believe I said something too vauntingly -about honour and attachment to my profession, which I considered as a -patrimony I never could be brought to alienate: in fine however I -became more humble, and earnestly besought him to allow of my declining -his favours altogether, whilst I had recollection enough left to find my -way to the army I belonged to, and shew myself not totally unworthy of -his good opinion by the force I put upon myself to preserve it. And now, -friend John, what say you to all this, that I have been telling you? -you, that have all the wisdom in a green head, that others have in their -grey ones, answer me, and say--did I, or did I not, do right? - -In point of honour, Major, you did right; you were a little romantic -perhaps, but, honourably speaking, you did strictly right. But you have -not told me how your conference ended. - -At this moment an orderly man put a letter into his hands, which having -hastily perused, he said--I am not sure that our conference is ended, my -dear fellow; for it should seem as if the gentleman only quitted me to -collect materials for continuing it. I will read you Mr. Devereux’s note -just now received, and you will judge. - - “At the express desire of Maria Devereux I am to signify to the - gallant officer, whom she holds herself indebted to for life, that - she cannot admit the plausibility of his scruples, and will - guarantee his honour, if he will be pleased to wave them, and make - her and his friends happy by being of the family party this day at - dinner. The undersigned, who writes what she has dictated, begs - leave to add that he is ready to second these her absolute - commands, or any other to the like effect, that she may lay upon - him in the case aforesaid, and thereunto, for the fuller - satisfaction of the parties concerned, he pledges his name, - - GEORGE DEVEREUX, SENIOR.” - -No sooner had our friendly hero heard him to the end, than impatient to -congratulate him, he exclaimed--And what would you have more to assure -you, that you have gained the prize, and all your wishes, all your hopes -are crowned? Now all this I could have told you, had I not been a little -too much of a man of honour to betray family secrets, but the wretched -suicide, who lies in yonder guard-house, made no secret of declaring -before he died, that Maria Devereux scrupled not to avow her fixed -attachment to the unknown officer, who had saved her life. Can you want -any further evidence, or would you have her to proclaim her passion for -you in the public square by sound of bell? Do you require the father to -fall upon his knees to you, and petition you to save his daughter’s -life? Something a little short of this, methinks, if I can comprehend -that note, he has already done. Now then, puissant conqueror, sally -forth in all your pomp of triumph, and receive into your arms the -loveliest girl (excepting always her whom I should still except, was the -whole world of beauty ranged before me) that ever I beheld. I did not -think I could have felt such joy on this side those old towers, in which -my heart is lodged. Oh my dear Wilson, let me be the bearer of these -joyous tidings to your beloved, your delighted father, to my old darling -grandsires, to my sainted aunt and to my lovely my betrothed Amelia. My -work is done. I’ll quicken my departure. - -The name of the sub-minister was now announced to Major Wilson, and De -Lancaster took his leave. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_Major Wilson visits Mr. Devereux. John De Lancaster briefly recites the -History of Amelia Jones._ - - -A grave and courtier-like gentleman presented himself to Major Wilson, -and with much deliberation informed him, that his most faithful majesty, -having resolved to repair to Elvas for the purpose of reviewing the -combined forces there assembled, had signified his royal pleasure, that -a British officer, not below the rank of major of cavalry, should be -sought out to attend upon him as one of his aid-de-camps on that -occasion; and that he, Major Wilson, having been recommended as an -officer in all respects qualified for that distinguished situation, he -had now the honour to inform Major Wilson, that the king had been -graciously pleased to accept his services, if it suited him to undertake -the duty. - -Sir, replied Major Wilson, I understand it to be so much my duty to lay -my poor services, at the feet of his most faithful majesty, that I -cannot for a moment hesitate to profess myself ready to obey his -majesty’s commands, which I beg you will be pleased to report to the -minister in such terms as may best express the respectful sense, which I -entertain of his excellency’s kindness and condescension. - -I shall report to his excellency, the sub-minister made answer, exactly -as you instruct me, and as I know your friend Mr. Devereux to be warmly -interested in your behalf, I shall call upon that gentleman in my way, -and inform him that his wishes are now happily accomplished: I have also -a particular message to Mr. Devereux in command from his majesty, in -whose grace and favour that very worthy gentleman stands extremely high. - -The man in office bowed himself out of the room, and Wilson sate down -and wrote as follows to Mr. Devereux, in answer to his note. - - “Sir, - - “If my diffidence caused me to decline your most obliging - invitation, I am sensible no plea will excuse me, when you join - authority so irresistible with your own: You will nevertheless be - pleased to bear in mind, that I have confided to you my terrors, - and acknowledged my unworthiness. I have just now had a visit from - a gentleman in office, which convinces me that you are resolved I - shall be indebted to you for favours, which I have no right to - expect, but which it would have been an unpardonable presumption on - my part to have withstood. I am much afraid you have recommended a - very unfit person for courtly services, when I cannot find words to - express to you how much I am, - - Sir, - Your ever obliged and - devoted servant - HENRY WILSON.” - -When it was time for the Major to fulfil his engagement, and wait upon -Mr. Devereux, he found the gentlemen assembled in the receiving-room, -but no Maria. It is probable she had passed a little more time than was -usual with her at her toilet; but her occupation there was not to find -ornaments for her person, but rather to recommend herself to her -expected visitor by the simplicity and modest elegance of her dress. -When dinner was announced she contrived to meet the company as they -passed the hall, and avoided the embarrassment of a formal entrance. - -As the events, which had so lately occurred, kept the house under -exclusion as to visitors, their party still continued to consist of -their family circle only. The conversation after dinner took that turn, -which naturally tends to put the parties at their ease, and as the -gaiety of the Major’s disposition began to show itself, Maria’s spirits -rose, and reserve was banished. Addressing herself to him, she said--I -understand you are to be at court to-morrow, and my father is to have -the honour of presenting you to his majesty. I don’t conceive you will -like it; ’tis a formal piece of business. You will be more at home in -the field at Elvas, when your favourite regiment passes in review. - -In the meantime, said John De Lancaster, Edward and I must be measuring -back our solitary way by sea and land, deprived of that agreeable -society, which we enjoyed on our passage hither. Events, which we could -not foresee, and which produce sensations and reflections of a very -opposite nature, have contributed to dismiss me from the duty of a -longer stay, and a very little time will now release from any further -trouble these generous friends, whose benevolence has given us shelter; -and as I despair of ever expressing to Mr. Devereux the full sense I -entertain of the kindness and consolation I have received under the -protection of this charitable roof, I must rely upon the friend I leave -behind me to take every occasion for bearing witness to my gratitude, -till we may all have the happiness of meeting once more in our native -land; a happiness, which I hope is in reserve for every one of us. I -have secured my passage in the pacquet, now on her return to England. My -first duty will be to deposit the mournful charge, that providence has -been pleased to lay upon me, in the burial-place of my family. There are -two benevolent old men, anxiously expecting me, both far advanced in -years, between whom and me there is now a broken link in the chain, -that leaves, alas! to them but a precarious and short hold on life. Your -gallant father, my dear Henry, is, you know, and ever has been, as my -father also; and for my aunt Cecilia, what I feel towards her, is only -short of absolute idolatry. - -Here as our hero seemed about to pause, Edward, who had watched him with -a pleased attention, said--John, you have gratified us much with this -account of your own feelings for a family of love, whom when you speak -of thus, by honouring them, you at the same time reflect most honour on -yourself. But is there not another in your thoughts--aye, in your heart, -my friend, of whom you have not spoken? Come, let us--let me at -least--hear me of the lovely, the beloved Amelia. - -Ah, why name her? De Lancaster replied. Why tell the Major soldiers are -courageous? What news to him? He knows it, and he feels it? Why tell -Miss Devereux, women may be charming, and men be charmed? She knows it, -and we feel it. If love be named in any lady’s hearing, it should be -love particular, not general--How am I sure, if I should speak of love -in any way that I can speak, the topick would be pleasing to Miss -Devereux, who has such powers to inspire it, but may not want to be told -any thing of those, who feel it? - -I understand you, sir, Maria replied: You are very civil, and a little -sly: But be assured, of all the topicks you could single out most -grateful to my ears, and perhaps most correspondent with my feelings, -would be a fair account without reserve of your love (which I am sure -is honourable love) for the lady of your choice, of whose perfections I -can’t doubt; and as for beauty I’ll take George’s word for that; he -speaks in rapture of the fair Amelia. - -You must not quite believe him, said our hero: At least it is not for -her beauty I should be inclined to speak in raptures of Amelia. Her form -and face are pleasing I presume; to me at least they are: but there is -something spiritual about her; something I can’t define; an emanation -from the mind within, that takes and keeps possession of my heart. I -seriously declare I never yet was in her company, when I had leisure to -bestow my attention upon her beauty, simply so considered. She was but -as a child when I first saw her; Nature had not supplied her with -attractions, that could induce me to mistake the impression, I then -received, for any other than a love as pure as her own thoughts, a zeal -to serve her, a wish that I might live to make her happy, and shield -her, like a blossom, from the blast. I found her in the humblest -situation, that dependance on my friends for education and support could -place her. She was an orphan without means to furnish food for another -day. There was a soft petition in her eyes for pity and protection, -which if I had not felt in every vein that visited my heart, I had been -a monster. Her father, a brave soldier, like my friend here in my eye, -whose honour and whose sword were all his portion, married the generous -girl, who risked her life to nurse and save him in a dreadful fever, -when all his fellow soldiers round were dying, and every breath of air, -that she respired, was charged and saturated with infection. - -Oh what a godlike act, Maria cried! she merited his love. Could he do -less? - -He could not, and he did not, John replied. She was the daughter of a -brother officer, the major of his regiment, then serving in the West -Indies. She lived to be the mother of Amelia; she was too good for this -bad world we live in, and Heaven recalled her; after she was lost, death -had but little trouble to destroy a wretched man, whom sorrow had struck -down, and both Amelia’s parents now repose in the same grave: by happy -chance she found her way to England: there, by the bounty of my -grandfather Morgan and my deceased mother she was placed under the care -of an excellent lady, who educated and brought her up. When my poor -mother died, she left her what she had in her disposal, a slender -portion, but enjoined me on her death bed to consider it as my especial -duty to protect her, and make her happiness, her honour and her -interests in all respects my own: from that moment such they have been, -and ever will be--This is the history of my Amelia. It is my happy -fortune to have gained an interest in her pure and virtuous heart, and, -if we live to meet, let a few months pass by without fresh cause of -sorrow, she will be my wife. - -Happy, happy man! exclaimed Maria, the envied privilege of whose sex it -is to put aside the mean concern of money, and say to the dear object of -your heart--I love you; share my fortune: I am your’s! - -As she said this, not daring to abide the interpretation that her words -might bear, she rose and with apparent agitation left the room. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_A definitive Explanation takes place between Maria Devereux and Major -Wilson._ - - -When Maria had retired, the company were silent for a time. Devereux at -length addressed De Lancaster, and said--How much I hold your character -in honour for what you have related to us, I cannot tell you; but I am -convinced the proper use of the advantages, that affluence gives us (and -therein I agree with my Maria) is, to procure that lasting happiness, -which a well-chosen partnership for life is of all chances, that this -world can give us, the likeliest to ensure to us. Some aspire to raise -their families to rank and title; and it would be a laudable ambition, -if nobler principles, superior wisdom and sublimer virtues were -interwoven with our pedigrees, and descended to our posterity with the -patents of our peerages, and entail of our estates: but these are not -the expectations, neither are they the motives, that induce ambitious -parents to betray their children into those fatal and delusive -marriages, which only elevate them to become conspicuous objects of -disgrace and scorn. I have been long persuaded, that the controul of -parents over the affections and attachments of their children should, by -the laws of nature and of reason, be only exercised for the prevention -of ill-advised, unworthy, indiscreet connections, which cannot fail to -lead to ruin and repentance. A dissipated profligate, a vain fool, a -gamester, a disbeliever, libertines without principle and conceited -puppies without employ have been known to catch the eyes of an -unthinking girl, but ’tis the parent’s duty to repulse them; so is it -not his duty, but the abuse of it, when he refuses to bestow her fortune -upon the worthy man, whom she has honourably singled out, and wisely -chosen, not by the eye, but heart, to be the sharer of her happiness. -The children, Heaven hath blessed me with, are fitted by understanding, -and fully able by the ample means, which of right they possess, to carve -out for themselves their future lot in life, without regard to what the -objects of their choice may be unprovided with, and which they abound -in--worldly property. Each of them have enough, whereon to live in ease -and affluence so long as they can live in harmony and peace--And now I -have tired you with a long harangue, but I would wish to have it -understood by all here present as my rule of practice; so with your -leave, good friends, we will break up this court of conscience, and -remove our cause into another, where we can have the counsel and -assistance of the lady, who there is left in solitary expectation of our -company over her tea and coffee. - -The proposal was instantly complied with, and the gentlemen adjourned to -another room, where Maria was present, and did the honours of her -tea-table. When this business was dispatched, she produced the -chess-board, and offered a challenge, which Major Wilson gallantly -accepted. Parties, that devote themselves to that dull monopolizing -game, seem for a time to be so absolutely excluded from society, and so -wedded to their own manœuvres, that it is perfectly fair and lawful to -consider them as absentees, and accordingly the gentlemen, who were at -liberty to follow their own amusements, walked out to enjoy the breeze, -that every evening visits the banks of the Tagus from the northward, and -qualifies the else insufferable heat. - -It was some time before the contending parties perceived that they had -no spectators, and not even a solitary second to appeal to in a case of -controversy, if such had arisen, or should arise, in the course of their -engagement. - -You are too strong for me, said Maria, and as I cannot make any -impression on your defences, I give up the contest. You are absolutely a -professor, and I am a mere novice, more fit to be your disciple than -your antagonist: besides, you mask your game, whilst I lay myself open -to you, and (which is more provoking still) when you have me in your -power, and might check-mate me by a single move, you always -mischievously contrive to leave some loop-hole for me to escape, on -purpose to postpone a victory, which you are indifferent about securing -and seem to consider as below your notice. - -If I do this, he said, I’m sure you cannot seriously suppose my reasons -to be those, which you assign. Could you not find some motive for my -hesitation more natural, and less impossible, than indifference? May not -the consciousness of what I am, instruct me almost to distrust my -senses, though the divinity, whom I adore, should condescend to me her -humble worshipper with looks so gracious, kindness so alluring, as seem -to say--Approach me, and be blest?--but how to approach, when I compute -the distance, that throws me off, and awes me from the attempt, is -indeed a question, that staggers and confounds me. - -At this she smiled, and with a look, that spoke encouragement, which -could not be mistaken, I suppose, she said, the scale, on which you -measure distances between us, is a certain thing called money, which -though you yourself disinterestedly hold in no respect, you think -perhaps that I have not the spirit to treat with the same contempt as -you do. Therein you do me no wrong. Were those eventual and mean -advantages, which I possess, transferred from me to you, I solemnly -declare they would not be a feather in your scale, as I should weigh it; -why then should you suffer them to give a false preponderance to mine? -When Owen laid his fortune at my feet, I had no knowledge of his -character; he had the address to keep it out of sight, his manners were -polite, his temper placid, in point of person nature had rather favoured -him than not. My father left me free to make my choice, and I had made -it; therefore I refused him. Now do you understand me, do you know me? -need I be more explicit? No; the privilege of truth can go no further; -sincerity itself must stop me here. - -Now, now you throw me on my knees for ever, the enraptured lover cried: -now I look up to you as to a being, exalted above all that I conceived -of human excellence: your nobleness of soul is now a charm beyond what -nature has bestowed upon you, and my admiration of your beauty is almost -lost whilst I adore your goodness. When happy fortune threw me in the -way to save you, and receive you in my arms upon that memorable day, I -had marked you out and fixed my eyes upon you in the charge; I knew you -as the daughter of the wealthiest man in Portugal, and honour tied my -tongue, though even then I struggled with a passion which tempted me to -tell you--That your rich father amidst all his treasures had but one -recompence that I would take; which being far above what I could merit, -or dare aspire to, I was proudly silent, and studied rather to avoid -than seek your presence, conscious that every time I looked upon you I -should find fresh occasion to admire you, and, as love sunk the deeper -in my heart, the deeper I should sink into despair. - -Now then, she said, I am understood at last, and it is not the first -proof I have received how slowly merit finds that secret out, which -impudence and vanity pretend at the first glance to see through, and -interpret in their own favour. You are a soldier, and modesty of mind is -ever found with manliness and valour: you must be still a soldier: I’ll -not ask you to sacrifice your honour and your occupation: ’tis for your -country’s service you were born; that is your character; in that you -shine, to that you must adhere, and never for an instant fly your post, -but when you fly to save a fellow creature, as you did me. If you -suspect me weak enough to sigh for any honours greater than to share -your fortune, any pleasures beyond those, which your approving smile -will ever give me, any self-consequence above the honest pride, that I -shall feel to hear your praises, you mistake me wholly. Don’t think that -I will borrow from my father’s stores to dazzle you with diamonds; no; -not one, had he a mine, would I consent to wear, unless by your command, -and that I think will never be your wish to lay upon me, whilst there -are nobler graces and adornments within my reach far more becoming of a -soldier’s wife. - -What answer Major Wilson made to this, how the dialogue was carried on -during the time the lovers were alone, as likewise how much shorter, or -how much longer, that time seemed to them to be than it really was, -must be left as matter of conjecture, which the imagination of the -reader will readily supply without referring to the chess board to fill -it up, as there is authority to say that game was not by either party -proposed to be renewed. Happiness sanctioned by paternal authority, and -virtuous love unchecked by the demurs of honour, filled the brave heart -of Wilson with delight, and he heard an early day announced by Devereux -for the sure tying of that sacred knot, which nothing but the hand of -death should sever, though in too many cases it has proved a slip knot -in the fingers of the law. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_John De Lancaster embarks for England, accompanied by his Friend the -Reverend Mr. Wilson. Conversation on the Passage._ - - -There was no longer any cause to stop De Lancaster’s return to England. -All duties were discharged; all ceremonies had been observed towards the -unburied body of his father, which man’s inventive fancy has devised to -decorate the case, that holds our clay, and make the ostentatious living -pay large contributions for those empty honours which they bestow on -human dust and ashes. Mutes, who would keep no silence, and, mourners, -who expressed no sorrow, in rooms, hung round with “customary suits of -solemn black,” had regularly sate up all night long, with their full -complement of wax-tapers, to watch a thing that could not run away, and -which no one wished to steal. All these ceremonies, which, had poor -Philip been alive, would have given him such intolerable annoyance, had -now with religious punctuality been performed, and his corpse was -committed to a ship, which, unlike to that wherein he came, was not -bound to the coast of slavery, but to the land of liberty. - -All things were now on board; the morning dawned; the dog-vane witnessed -an auspicious breeze; the crew sung out at the cap-stan and the pacquet -was under weigh. Devereux’s eight-oared galley was in waiting, and -nothing now remained but to put off and part. Although the friends, who -stayed on shore, as well as those, who put to sea, took the very course, -to which their wishes pointed, and which their own immediate happiness -prescribed, yet they could not separate without sorrow, and the last -farewell drew tears from the brightest eyes in Portugal, and sighs from -some of the best hearts in nature. Philip the whilst, in his narrow -house of lead, slept undisturbed, and was as perfectly untouched by -sensibility as if he had been alive. - -The gallant vessel in the mean time, as if conscious of the charge she -had on board, cut her passage through the waves, not deigning to rise to -them, but throwing them aside, and dashing them from her bows, as her -spreading canvass pressed her down in the water, and hurried her along -before the steady breeze. - -Our hero and his friend, having cast a parting look upon the towers of -Lisbon, retired into the cabin, whilst the master kept the deck, -regaling himself in the prospect of so fair an outset, for the weather -was delicious, and the sky prognosticated a continuance of the breeze. - -If any thing, said Wilson, could reconcile me to the imprisonment of a -ship, it would be a day like this, with a breeze impregnated with odours -of orange flowers to regale my senses, and the elements in good humour -all around me. I am happy to discover that there are some consolatory -moments in a seaman’s life. And now, my dear John, I am satisfied you -have not let these singular events pass by without reflecting, with due -gratitude to the Disposer of our fate, how graciously he has been -pleased to terminate our enterprize; which, though not absolutely -untinctured with disappointment and misfortune, might yet have led to -miseries, that would have admitted of no consolation. Don’t let me -wound your filial feelings, when I remind you, that the blow, which made -you fatherless, might have fallen where it would have extinguished more -lives than one, and blotted out the very name of De Lancaster for ever. -If I went so far as to say, that probably there are few beings in -existence, whose loss society has less cause to mourn than that of him, -whose remains we are now bearing to the grave, I should not at least -offend against truth, tho’ I might need your pardon for addressing the -remark to you. How visible is the hand of divine justice in the -apprehension of that guilty wretch, and in the prevention of those -further crimes, which he meditated to commit! What can be more -strikingly charactered, more impressively apportioned to our ideas of -retribution, than that tragical catastrophe, which passed before your -eyes, and put a period to his sinful life? How mercifully is it ordered, -that those worldly blessings, which he so grossly abused, will now -devolve upon one, who seems able and disposed to estimate them rightly, -and employ them worthily! when we turn our thoughts to what has come to -pass respecting my most fortunate and happy brother, what a dispensation -do we contemplate! How unexpected, how beyond all hope! If in one -respect we bring home with us fresh cause for mourning, do we not also -bring full matter for rejoicing, if happily we return to our dear -friends in safety, and find them, as Heaven grant we may! in prosperous -health and undisturbed tranquillity of mind? - -That, my dear Edward, that indeed, replied De Lancaster, will be a -happiness never to be exceeded, a vouchsafement never to be forgotten. -As from these windows I look out and see the foaming track, which our -swift-sailing vessel leaves behind her, my heart exults to think, that -we have cut off so much from the space of sea, that we must traverse -before we reach the shores of that asylum, where I left all that my soul -has treasured up to bless and crown with happiness my days to come. Ah, -my best friend, if Heaven shall so vouchsafe that I may live to call -Amelia mine, and, when possest of all my heart holds dear, if those -principles, which you have taught me, shall be found still operative, -still inviolate and pure, how vast will be my obligations to you, who -took me when I was in a state of dereliction, taught me to perceive that -I was endowed with reason, and enabled me to discern how to apply it to -its proper uses. If I could have suffered the events, which you have -instanced, to have passed by me without reflections, of which you remind -me, I must have been insensible indeed: On the contrary, be assured they -struck me with the double force of opposite examples, shewing me both -the evil and the good; the punishment of villainy in the instance of Ap -Owen, and the reward of virtue in the person of your brother. - -The master of the pacquet now came into the cabin, and introduced a -gentleman by the name of Anderton, in whose frame and complexion the -effects of tropical disease were strongly marked. He might be somewhat -past the middle stage of life, and there were traces in his sickly -countenance of that mild character, that to hearts like those of our -hero and his friend made an interesting appeal; and he soon perceived -that his good fortune had thrown him into the company of fellow -passengers, who felt for his situation, and were naturally disposed to -shew him all attentions in their power, and tender him a share in all -those comforts, which Devereux’s care had amply stored them with, and -which his condition seemed so much to need. - -The wind was fair, the sea was easy, and the motion of the vessel being -regularly and rapidly progressive, was not of that sort, which produces -sickness and disquietude. Anderton by their invitation reposed himself -on the couch, where they took their seats on each side of him. His eyes -now brightened as he turned them on his beneficent companions, the -blood flushed faintly in his cheeks, and addressing them, he said-- - -Knowing in whose company I have the happiness to be, and highly grateful -as I am for the kind reception you have given me, though as yet a -perfect stranger, it is fit that I should briefly tell you who and what -I am; briefly it needs must be, for one dull scene of industry, one -uniform pursuit, comprize the whole history of my unimportant solitary -life. If it were the sole purpose of man in this world to make his -fortune, I have accomplished that purpose; for in colonial property I am -superfluously rich. I was an orphan in my infancy, and have no -recollection of my parents; after a scanty education upon charity, I was -taken into a merchant’s service, where I performed the menial offices -of his counting-house; there however I gained a knowledge of accounts -and forms of business. I devoted myself, as I have told you, without -avocation of any kind, to the task before me, and was consigned over to -the manager of a considerable estate in Jamaica as an under agent, who -was not likely to decline any labour, or betray any trust. I did neither -one nor the other; they did not spare me, and I did not spare myself. -Incessant industry, no taste for pleasure, no incitements to excess, an -absolute sequestration from all society, and no diversion of ideas from -those, which I employed upon the cane, the mill and the negro, raised me -by degrees hardly gained to a capacity of adventuring for myself, and my -laborious efforts have succeeded, as I told you, to the fullest extent; -I am the sole fabricator of an ample property, for the attainment of -which I have, as you see, sacrificed my health, and deprived myself of -the ability to enjoy my earnings. One consolation however supports me on -reflection, which is that of being conscious, that I am chiefly indebted -for my prosperity to the humanity, with which I ever treated those, who -were my slaves: I have been the founder of their happiness, and they the -instruments, that have raised my fortune. I made their cabins -comfortable, their wives and children happy; I contemplated their -increase with satisfaction, and can boast of having never purchased or -imported a single African, since I have been owner of a single acre. -They grew up with me as their common father, they lived and worked for -me, I lived to think and act for them. To the whole world of white men I -am a stranger; except with one alone I never formed acquaintance: he, -and he only, was my friend; from him I learnt the precepts and the -policy of humanity to my enslaved fellow creatures: I loved him as my -own life; he married and became a widower; I received him in his sorrow, -and lodged him in my house; he was a soldier, and a gentleman; my purse -would have been his for every use he could have put it to, but his -high-born spirit would not stoop to obligations of that sort; he -sickened, languished a few days, and expired in my arms. My spirit died -with him; every comfort, every joy my nature was capable of feeling, -were buried with him in the grave. He left a little orphan girl, in whom -the remnant of my heart was wrapped; her grandfather took her from me; -she was sent to England, and, if she yet survives, and is in the -virtues of her mind, what she promised to be in the beauties of her -person, she is an angel. Would I might see her once before I die! - -Tell me her name, said De Lancaster, and instantly, as Anderton -pronounced Amelia Jones, our astonished hero threw himself back on the -couch, smote his hands together and with uplifted eyes exclaimed--Just -Heaven, how wonderful are thy decrees! - -The explanation, that ensued, would be superfluous to relate; it filled -up the time till the hour of dinner put an end to it. Devereux’s -provisions furnished out an excellent repast, and the sea-air supplied -an appetite. Anderton fed heartily, and the languor of his countenance -yielded to the joint effects of cordial diet, and that elevation of -spirits, which the conversation of De Lancaster and Wilson had inspired -him with. After a glass or two of delicious wine had gone temperately -round, the cabin was cleared; all, who had charge of the ship, repaired -to their duty on the deck, and the three passengers were left at liberty -to resume their conversation. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_John De Lancaster and Wilson arrive at Kray Castle._ - - -From the preceding Chapter it appears that John De Lancaster had made -known to Anderton the situation of Amelia Jones, and that gentleman no -sooner found himself in private with his new friends, than, turning to -our hero, he said--The hopes, you have held out to me of beholding the -relick of my dear-loved friend, inspire me with new life, and I will not -despair but that the clear air of Wales may keep my waining lamp alive a -little longer. - -At least I’ll give the experiment a chance, for though I don’t fear -death, simply considered as a dismission from this world, yet I would -most devoutly wish to fit myself for it as my passport to the world to -come. For that, alas! I have made no preparation. Of my religion I am -supremely ignorant; I have had no church, no pastor to instruct me. I -scarce know why and by what right I call myself a Christian: I must -believe I ought to understand the book of duties, that is open to me; -but where is the instructor? Nothing can be too much for me to give, -could I but find that charitable man, who patiently and piously would -teach me rightly to know and reverence my God, or ere I am summoned to -appear before him. The tomb itself can be no darker than my ignorant -mind; he whose instruction will throw light on that, will merit all the -uses of my fortune, on which there is not in this world one, who by -affinity or friendship has the slightest claim, now that Amelia Jones is -so disposed of. - -Stop there, said the Reverend Mr. Wilson, if you please. Had you not -named what seems so like a lure to bribe me to your service, I had -offered my best endeavours, as in duty bound (being myself a minister of -the Gospel), to give you that assistance, which you profess yourself so -earnest to obtain. - -Oh that you would! said Anderton. - -Be patient, rejoined Wilson, I can make no promise till I am satisfied, -that you withdraw all thoughts of every thing, which seems allied to -worldly recompence, and credit me for pure benevolence and zeal to serve -my God by services to you. Here therefore we must conclude this -conversation for the present, and wait till further knowledge of each -other may possibly dispose us to renew it with effect. - -In the further progress of their voyage Anderton’s gentle and benignant -nature so recommended him to Wilson, and he drew such comfort from the -discourses, which that excellent instructor favoured him with, that, as -his understanding opened, his spirits and his health improved, and he -became as it were a new creature. - -As they neared the land, the breeze freshened, and in the first of the -morning they came to anchor in the port of Falmouth. Upon their landing, -the attendants on the corpse lost no time in providing for its -conveyance to Exeter, where fresh relays were to be had; and, when these -arrangements were made, our hero and his friend, with young Williams -only, set out for Kray Castle by the shortest road, and Anderton bent -his course to London. The journey of these gentlemen was in all respects -like the journeys, which other gentlemen take, except in novels, for the -drivers and horses, whether good or bad, performed their stages, and -their carriage was driven into the court of Kray Castle, nay, even up to -the castle-door, without accident or adventure of any kind. The surprise -of the old porter was such, that he took especial care, that every body -within hearing should partake of it, and rang out an alarm so violent, -that some cracked bells and some crazy towers would have resented it in -a manner not very convenient for the puller of the rope, which provoked -them to such clamorous exertion. - -The family had not quitted the breakfast-room, for Mr. De Lancaster had -engaged their attention to a dissertation upon dreams, in consequence of -a prediction, which David Ap Rees had ventured to enounce from his -tripod, namely, that Mr. John De Lancaster was on his road, and would -speedily arrive in safety; David having gone to bed with a full dose of -soporifick metheglin, and been visited in his sleep with the vision of -young John and his father alighting at the castle-gate safe and sound -from the backs of two griffins, that had flown with them through the -air. This he had imparted to his patron after his morning serenade, and -that excellent person had entertained a very good opinion of the -prophecy, though he had some hesitation to admit the vehicle of the -griffins: Upon this circumstance he commenced a learned dissertation -upon dreams, holding at nought Mr. Locke’s notion of their being made up -of the waking man’s thoughts, and substituting an opinion of his own, -which took up so much time in explanation, and grew to be so entirely -unintelligible by his mode of explaining it, that when the turret bell -sounded out that terrible alarm, old Morgan started and cried out -amain--What the devil is coming to us now? That horrid bell has waked me -out of a comfortable nap, in which I was dreaming of-- - -Your grandson John, said De Lancaster, and behold he is here! - -It is in scenes like this, which now took place upon the sudden -entrance of our hero, that speeches cannot be found for people, who all -speak at the same time, and of course out-talk description. The tender -sex have tearful eyes and trembling nerves for these occasions; the -three seniors had their several modes of giving vent to their joy, and -each mode different from the other.--The dream is verified, cried De -Lancaster, my grandson is arrived in safety--But he did not come upon a -dragon, said the Colonel--No matter, exclaimed old Morgan; here he is, -and that’s enough. - -Edward Wilson now came into the room, and the cordial congratulations of -every one present were renewed upon the sight of him. In the general -exultation it so happened that nobody had yet recollected to make one -enquiry about poor Philip. At length Cecilia said--What is become of my -brother? Have you left him still in Lisbon? - -He is not in Lisbon, replied John. We should not have left you without -an account of every thing as it came to pass, if a single pacquet had -sailed from Lisbon, whilst we remained in it; we came in the only one, -that was on that side the water, and they stopped it till the dispatches -from the army were made up. Much has occurred in the short time we have -been absent from you, and we have happy news for Colonel Wilson of our -gallant Major; but as we have travelled hard and are journey-baited; if -you will let us satisfy our hunger first, we will then endeavour to -satisfy your curiosity. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_Familiar Anecdotes of the Family at Kray Castle: Comments on the -Events, which occurred at Lisbon._ - - -It will be a very saving compromise for our readers to refer John De -Lancaster’s narrative to their recollection rather than to tire their -patience with a recapitulation of what they have heard before. Let it -therefore be understood that the eventful narrative has been minutely -given; that Mr. De Lancaster with philosophical resignation has -acquiesced in the dispensation of poor Philip’s death; that he has -acknowledged the hand of Providence in the seizure of his murderer, and -in the consummation of his dreadful doom; and that the happy return of -our beloved hero, now sole heir of the De Lancasters and Morgans, with -the brilliant prospect of Major Wilson’s fortunate connection, leave -impressions on the hearers only tinged, not obscured, by sorrow and -regret. - -When we reflect, said Robert De Lancaster, upon occurrences in all -respects, save one, so prosperously, so providentially disposed, it -would be an unpardonable offence in us, who have been listening to the -narrative, were we to suffer one ingrateful murmur to escape us, because -the general blessing, though beyond our hopes, and far above our merits, -defeats our wishes in one single point. Cecilia will recollect how ill -we jointly augured of the idle expedition, that has now proved fatal to -the unhappy object, who obstinately would set out upon it, and returns a -corpse. Fate has now struck him down, who would not wait to witness, as -in duty bound, and to console, as by humanity it was required of him, a -wife, who languished on the bed of death. Can we complain of this? Is -there not justice in the dispensation? If then it behoves me, his -father, to submit in silence, who amongst you will give way to -lamentation? We will consign his body to the grave with suitable -respect, and his memory to oblivion with as much philosophy as we can -muster, for in the journal of his days, if every action was set down, -there will be found not one, on which we can engraft a single word of -praise to grace him with an epitaph. Therefore, my good and worthy -brother Morgan, you, who by law, and I, who by nature, fathered this -poor man, will pray for life, that we may see the hour, which but for -this event, had joined the hands of those affianced lovers, now in our -sight, destined, as I trust, to keep our names alive and lay our grey -heads in a peaceful grave. - -I’ll tell you what, brother of mine, said old Morgan; if I live to see -that happy day, I don’t believe I shall be content to lay my grey head -in any grave at all, let it be as peaceful as it may. I hope those fatal -spinsters won’t cut my thread, just when I want to wind up my bottom, -and be merry: why, I’ve a cellar full of wine, that I hope will be drank -out before I die; I have a locker full of money to scatter amongst the -poor, and a subterranean of strong beer to set the antient Britons -a-dancing on their heads. I know I am an old gouty good-for-nothing -blockhead; but what then? ’Tis other people’s wit, not our own, that -makes us merry; and let death stand at the door, I’ll have my laugh -out, so long as he does not come in, and spoil the company: Here’s my -old friend Wilson, who has literally one leg in the grave, why he makes -battle still, like a stout fellow, and fights upon his stumps, as -Whittington did in Chevy Chase. Was there ever in the annals of good -fortune such a happy father as he is? ’Tis not in the order of things -probable, that a fellow, like his son Henry, with all the disadvantages -of modest merit, refined high principle and rigid unrelenting honour, -should find himself invited, nay, compelled, to be one of the happiest -and most prosperous gentlemen, that beauty, wealth and virtue ever -joined to bless. How, in the name of all that’s wonderful, did it come -to pass, that Devereux, a trader in diamonds, should have the good sense -to discover, and the good heart to reward, the merits of Major Wilson? -What shall I say of him? Why, I will say, that he is worthy to enjoy the -friendship of De Lancaster, and his daughter to share the affection and -esteem of Cecilia and Amelia; and if any body can suggest how I may do -him and her greater honours, I shall be glad to hear it. As for myself, -if some kind spirit, that is friendly to good fellowship, will -graciously keep from me pain and sickness for a while, I shall be -profoundly thankful; but I must not be importunate; if he gives me to -the full as much as I deserve, and gives no more, my allowance will be -nothing: still if I may be suffered to hang, as I do, like a ragged -remnant, on the skirts of society, I shall be well content, for I would -fain shake honest Devereux by the hand before I die; aye, and poor -Anderton before he dies, because he loved the dear white man, whom I -loved and lamented, and because he dandled on his knee my pretty Amelia, -who is sweeter than all his sugar-canes, though she does not care a rush -for such a rascally old negro as I am. - -Oh sir, sir, cried Amelia, don’t say that, even in jest--And rising from -her seat, devoutly put her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips -upon his forehead. - -Child, child, he cried; don’t overthrow me. I am a weak old fool with a -watery head, and you, who are the fair nymph of the fountain, can make -it stream at pleasure. - -Brother Morgan, said De Lancaster, whilst you think fit to rally -yourself with pleasantry, you shall be as pleasant as you like, and we -won’t quarrel with you; but if you pique us upon the serious point of -affection and respect, we may chance to defend ourselves in the same -manner, that Amelia has done; I think therefore you will do well to be -contented with the salute you have got; for the rough beard of Menelaus -won’t do after the sweet lips of Helen. - -In the mean time, said the Colonel, if it will be any gratification to -see Maria Devereux, I’ll introduce her to you. It is an elegant -compliment, that her father has made in sending me her picture; and -though Henry tells me in his letter that it is not half so handsome as -the original, that may be an opinion very natural for him to give, but -we are not absolutely bound to take the lover’s word against the -painter’s art. Saying this, he gave the picture to Morgan; the ladies -eagerly rose, and even De Lancaster was impatient to satisfy his -curiosity with a sight of it: The ladies were in raptures with the -beauty, De Lancaster with the character of the countenance; Morgan -declared at once, that he had seen enough to understand why she -preferred one of the finest fellows in the British service to all the -yellow-faced nobles in the court of Portugal--There is discernment, said -he, in those eyes, brother De Lancaster--Yes, yes; replied the other-- - - “Oculi loquuntur male pertinaces.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_Conversation in an Evening Walk._ - - -The evening was delicious, there was a stillness in the air, that seemed -like the repose of nature, when our hero and his Amelia walked forth to -enjoy those happy moments, which rural scenes and rural solitude afford -to Love. They were no sooner out of ear-shot from the castle walls, when -John began--Now, my sweet girl, when no witness is about us, but the -unseen Spirit, that protects and guards you, I can open all my heart to -you without reserve, for it honours you, it loves you, it adores you. I -have been absent from you; I have visited another country, I have seen -other women, and contemplated their charms and their allurements without -emotion or the diversion of a thought from you. I am entirely and -unalterably yours. I think you love me; nay, I am sure you do; nothing -therefore but the hand of death can separate us, and when I dissuaded -Anderton from leaving you his fortune, it was because I regarded you -already as my wife. But time, my lovely girl, must pass before I can -have legal right to call you by that name. You see within how short a -period I have been deprived of both my parents, and although my -grandfather De Lancaster treats or feigns to treat the late melancholy -event as a philosopher, I cannot help feeling it as a son; for I was -present to behold my father die and witnessed his last words. If I could -charge my conscience with having hesitated or delayed to obey his -summons, and hasten to his relief, I should be wretched in the extreme: -but, thank Heaven, I had fortitude to tear myself from your arms, and -cannot reproach myself with any breach of duty. Nothing can exceed the -kindness I received from Mr. Devereux and his family: but neither his -hospitality, nor the approaching nuptials of his daughter with my -friend Major Wilson, could prevail with me to prolong my stay a single -hour beyond the very first pacquet, that afforded me an opportunity of -returning to the place where I had left my heart. You will perceive I -gave you credit for a mind superior to the vanity of show and ornament; -for I have not brought a single gem to glitter on that lovely person, -whose elegance and simplicity are its best adornments. My dear Amelia, -we must seek for other honours, than decoration can give us; we must -find out better uses for the affluence we are entrusted with, than gems -and equipage and splendid galas: If you and I decide upon a country -life, we will not let our tranquillity degenerate into indolence, nor -ever suffer these superfluities, which we have no present call for, to -accumulate for those, may chance to come after us to inherit, and -perhaps to misapply, them: No, we will consider prosperity as a loan, -and administer our abundance as the almoners of Providence, and stewards -for the uses of our fellow-creatures, whose privations and distresses -shall have claims upon that, which is not given as a monopoly to be -devoured by one, but as a resource against the wants of many. By this -conduct I may atone for not devoting my life, as well as my fortune, to -the service of my country; and you may walk forth amongst your poor -dependent pensioners, brighter and more splendid in the lustre of your -charities than if I hung you round with all the jewels of the Lady of -Loretto. Let us live hospitably, becomingly, liberally, after the -example of my grandfather; but don’t let us make an undistinguishing -waste either by our domestic style of living, or by wanton largesses to -any, who may not deserve, as well as need, relief. We will support the -industrious, who struggle against hard fortune, and the helpless, who -would else sink under it; but we will not confound the lazy drone with -the laborious bee. And now, beloved of my soul, as I have occupied you -with a long homily, and wearied you with a long walk, here is a baiting -place to repose in; sit down with me upon this shady bench, and let me -read my answer in those heavenly eyes. - -Oh, my dear sir, replied the fond and happy Amelia, your just and -generous sentiments instruct and charm me. Convinced, that by the -practice of these virtues you will ensure all that my heart can wish, -all that my prayers can ask of Heaven, you give me that supreme -delight, which only can be felt, but not described. What can I say to -you? What other answer can you look for from your devoted, your -betrothed Amelia, but that I am entirely yours? Is it enough to tell -you, that I love you, that my whole happiness depends upon you? No; I am -not quite convinced, but that the impression, which at our first -interview you left so deeply fixed in this poor hopeless heart, would -have compelled me to have loved you still, though you had treated me -with marked neglect; nay, though you had neglected your own self, and -fallen off from that high character in which I now behold you and -admire. I felt as if I could have forgiven you every thing: and when you -left me for so long a time without a word to soften my despair, I feared -indeed that you was lost for ever, but I did not suspect you to be -cruel. I knew you was offended with Mrs. Jennings, but I was sorry to -find your resentment could be so lasting, and that you would take no -pains to acquit me, who was innocent, and set my mind at rest. Morning -and night I mused upon the words I heard you utter, when, looking on the -portrait of my father, you pledged protection to the orphan who then -lived, as she still does, upon the bounty of your family--Is this the -man (I said within myself) who threw his arms about me, and pressed me -with such rapture to his heart? Was there no meaning in that fond -embrace? Did it sink only into my sad heart? Alas, I hoped that his had -felt it too!--Thus I tormented my poor wretched self, till now, behold! -I am sitting by your side--Nay; hear me out!--I have not told one -half-- - -The expostulation was not out of place, for by some means or other, -(what I know not) our heroine was defrauded of her right to tell the -other half; and whether it was ever told, or not, I hope is no great -object to the reader; for, upon the word and honour of a novelist, I -have no authority, that can decide the question. - -In due time the corpse of Philip De Lancaster arrived and was interred -in the vault with his ancestors. Every member of that antient house -attended the funeral, and several of the intimates and friends of the -family shewed their respect by being present at the solemnity. - -As the parishioners and labouring poor had no particular reason for -tears and lamentations, they reasonably enough forbore to interrupt the -ceremony, and only gratified their curiosity by gazing on the plumes and -scutcheons and the costly pall and coffin: this did extremely well, and -the cheering horn of fat Welch ale, that was dealt out to quench a -thirst, that was natural to them at all times, and did not spring upon -this occasion from sorrow, did still better. A great company were -regaled in the state apartment’s of the castle, and a mighty mob in the -lower regions. - -Whilst these things were going on, Lawyer Davis, Doctor Llewellyn and -the family-bard old Williams held a special consistory in a private -cell, for the purpose of minuting down the _memoranda_, proper to be -inserted in the family archives under the article of “Philip De -Lancaster Esquire, lineally descended in the male line without a flaw -from Japhet, son of Noah.” - -The bard was to dictate; the Lawyer was to write, and the Doctor was to -smoke his pipe, and make comments. As it was a business not to be -dismissed in a slight perfunctory manner, there was a huge can of -metheglin on the table to assist thought, for the _data_, that blind -David had to go upon, were rather of the scantiest; and when a -biographer has little or nothing before him, he must depend upon his -wits for matter. - -David opened the consultation by observing, that, before they sate down -to their work, it was correctly in rule to make a libation to the -immortal memory of the excellent person, whose virtues they were about -to record; and he assured himself, that posterity would peruse the life -and actions of Mr. Philip De Lancaster with peculiar interest and -avidity. - -After they had drank they began to deliberate, and the Doctor suggested, -that the first thing needful was to prove the life, before they narrated -the actions, of Mr. De Lancaster. - -That is already settled, said the Lawyer, by entering, as I have done, -the date of his birth. - -Pardon me, replied the Doctor, that entry is not quite authority, unless -you can show that he was _born to die_; for in many cases, which I have -met, the death of the object in question has been known to forerun the -birth. - -Here is the date of his death, rejoined the Lawyer, copied from the -plate on his coffin; and by this it appears, that he lived to complete -a period of forty-three years, five months and three days. - -_Sufficit!_ said Llewellyn; the plate upon his coffin is evidence. Now -let us understand what he employed himself upon during that period. - -A silence ensued for a considerable time. David referred himself to the -metheglin; the other two to meditation on the past events of Philip’s -life, as materials for history. - -He was very fond of angling, said the Lawyer.--He was so, replied the -Doctor, and you may put that down in the archives, only you need not -inform posterity, that he never got a bite. - -Pooh! rejoined Davis, that naturally happened, because he was too -indolent to bait his hook.--He had an acknowledged partiality for the -game of chess. - -Yes, and an acknowledged ignorance of it, said the Doctor. I am apt to -think, that it will be perfectly safe to record, that he was six feet -high-- - -Wanting half an inch, rejoined the Lawyer. - -Pshaw! exclaimed the Doctor; if you begin to reckon up all that is -_wanting_, there will be no end to the account. - -David now unmuzzled his oracle, and began to utter--Gentlemen, give me -leave to observe to you, that you wander from the points, that chiefly -constituted the exemplary character of the deceased personage, whose -incomparable qualities we are even now preparing to commemorate. He -possessed, as I can witness, a most laudable respect for the almost -miraculous powers of music: I do not say that Mr. Philip De Lancaster -was skilled in the practice of that sublime art; but I do say, that he -was at the pains of ascending the winding stair-case of my turret, and -of entering my chamber on the top of it, for the benevolent purpose of -employing me to expel the meagrims, or blue devils, as they are called, -from the possession they had taken of his lady, and restoring her to -health and spirits by the healing remedy of dulcet tones, elicited by me -from my harp. - -A fiddlestick for your harp! exclaimed the man of medicine. I tell you, -that its dulcet tones were the very death of his wife. You may take that -from me, friend David, _in verbo medici_. - -I’ll not take that from you, or any one else, friend or foe, retorted -the enraged musician; and now began an altercation between chemicals and -galenicals _versus_ chords and crotchets, which was maintained with -such heat, (both gentlemen being of the principality,) that in the -confusion of tongues all memory of poor Philip’s history was done away, -and to this hour no record, anecdote or account of that unfortunate -gentleman is any where to be found, save only what the historic tool of -the engraver has briefly inscribed upon the lacquered plate, that -ornaments his coffin. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_Our History verges to its Conclusion.--Cornet Roberts arrives at -Penruth Abbey._ - - -A very few days had elapsed since the event, recorded in our preceding -chapter had taken place, when intelligence reached the castle, that the -young heir of Penruth Abbey had arrived there from Lisbon. The servant, -who brought this news, was the bearer also of a letter from Cornet -Roberts to our hero, signifying that he was charged with a letter from -Major Wilson to his father, which with permission, he would have the -honour of delivering into his hands. The answer of our hero expressed -every thing, that hospitality and politeness could convey; but certain -reasons, still in force, prevailed with him to avoid, for the present at -least, a visit to the abbey. A very short time however brought young -Roberts to the castle, where he was received with all possible -cordiality. He had left his friend the Major on the point of setting out -for the review at Elvas, and as his marriage with Maria Devereux had -taken place, the bride and her father had been invited, and were -preparing to accompany him in the royal suite: in his letter to the -Colonel he announces his intention of coming over to England upon the -close of the campaign, and the family seat in Herefordshire was by order -of Mr. Devereux furnishing and preparing for his reception. Prosperity -had flowed in upon him; promotion awaited him, and every thing seemed -conspiring for his happiness. - -Roberts in the mean time ingratiated himself to every body, old or -young, in the family of De Lancaster, by that modesty of mind and -manners, in which his sudden turn of fortune made no change. He made -frequent short excursions to the Abbey, where he had projected several -considerable works for the occupation and employment of the labouring -poor; but his delicacy never suffered him to ask John De Lancaster to -accompany him. John attended upon him however to the house of old Ap -Rees, when he went to invest him with the annuity settled upon him and -his son. The business was so cautiously introduced, and so delicately -conducted, that it created no very painful agitation on the part of the -old man--I have so deep a sense, said Roberts, of the injuries you have -received from the deceased person, whose property, but not whose -principles, I inherit, that so long as life is granted to me, I will be -the friend of you and all that may belong to you or yours; so be -assured--The venerable minstrel bowed his head; but the sad recollection -of his dear-loved daughter weighed upon his heart, and he was silent. - -This and so many instances like this, occurred to strengthen and confirm -our hero’s high opinion of young Roberts, that in hearts like theirs -acquaintance soon was ripened into friendship; in proof of which it may -not be entirely out of place to record a circumstance, that happened at -the county races. Sir Arthur Floyd, the steward for the year preceding, -had nominated John De Lancaster as his successor in that office, and -when the time came round for his appearing in that character, his -grandfather and friends were of opinion, that he could not handsomely -absent himself. He proposed to Roberts to accompany him, and with some -hesitation he accepted it. At the ordinary John in right of office took -the chair; the cornet, as yet unknown to the gentlemen of the county, in -his riding dress, and out of uniform, attracted very little notice, and -declined all offers of introduction. It had been whispered however -between some at table, that a near relation of Sir David Ap Owen was -there, present and amongst them. When the glass had gone round briskly, -and Welch blood began to stir, a sporting kind of half gentleman at the -bottom of the table, who had been of the Ap Owen hunt, stood up and in a -loud voice desired to ask a question of the president: leave was -instantly given him from the chair to propose it. - -He was ready enough with his words, and, addressing himself to De -Lancaster, spoke as follows--Mr. President, it is not my good fortune to -possess any great property in this county, but I hold it in as much -honor and respect, as any gentleman here present, being perhaps of as -antient standing, none excepted, not even yourself, Mr. De Lancaster, -whom we are all proud to see at the head of this table as our steward, -and shall be still prouder to see you there in good time as our -representative. - -A clapping of hands, and a vehement clatter of glasses, ensued--The -speaker as soon as silence was restored, proceeded--Mr. President, I am -sorry to say that a great and grievous disgrace has been cast upon this -country by the infamous conduct of as dire a wretch, as ever went into -his grave unhanged. I mean the late Sir David Ap Owen; I speak out; I am -no slanderer. And now, Mr. President, I am informed, (whether truly or -not you perhaps can tell) that there is a near relation of that wretch, -who has so disgraced us, actually present in this company. - -I am that person, said young Roberts, instantly starting up, and cutting -him short in his oration. I am nephew to the late worthy Sir Owen Ap -Owen, and of course first cousin to the late unworthy heir of his title -and estate. Now, sir, if my presence, gives you on that account any -umbrage, I am ready to leave the company, provided you go with me; for -having the honour to wear the King’s commission, I am not willing to -disgrace it by putting up with an affront from you, or any man alive, -who can prove himself a gentleman. - -Several persons now rose at the same time, and called upon the orator -for an apology, when upon John De Lancaster’s appealing to be heard in -right of office, all were silent and sate down--Gentlemen, he said, I am -persuaded, that a very few words in the way of explanation will set this -matter right, without disturbing the peace of the company, or wounding -the feelings of any person present. It would be hard indeed upon my -friend Mr. Roberts, it would be hard upon me, who am proud to call him -by that name, if, because he inherits the estate of an antient and -respectable family in this county, the guilt of that man, through whose -hands it passed in its descent to him, could be supposed to cast the -slightest stain upon his character: that I am sure was not the purpose -of the gentleman, who was pleased to address himself to me. He spoke -upon the impulse of an honest indignation against one, who is far enough -removed from this assembly, not from the premeditated motive of putting -an affront upon a gentleman, whose company confers an honour, -wheresoever he bestows it. If therefore I conjecture rightly of my -worthy countryman at the other end of the table, I will put it to the -proof by calling upon him to pledge me in a toast, which I will give to -the health and prosperity of our new neighbour, Charles Roberts esquire, -the present heir and owner of Penruth Abbey. - -Instantly, without a moment’s loss, the orator started on his legs, and -having filled his glass to the brim, with a loud voice, directed to Mr. -Roberts, cried amain, that he hoped he would accept of his apology, and -that he drank his health with all his heart. When the toast had gone -round, the young heir of the Ap Owens rose, and having made his -acknowledgments to the company, professed himself perfectly satisfied -with the testimony, which the gentleman, who addressed the president, -had been pleased to give of his good opinion of him. Thus by the -temperate and manly interference of our hero, the spirit of discord, -which for a time had worn so menacing an aspect, was expelled, and -harmony and goodfellowship reinstated in its stead. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_The History is concluded._ - - -When John De Lancaster returned to Kray Castle, Edward Wilson -communicated to him a letter, which he had from Anderton, of which the -following is the substance: - - “Dear Sir! - -“Having at length settled all my temporal affairs, nothing remains for -me in this world but to prepare my mind to meet that awful moment, -which must soon dismiss me from it. I rather think my complaint has -gained upon me, since my residence in London, and the physician, whom I -have consulted, tells me that I must positively lose no time in seeking -out some country-house in a better climate and a purer air. From what -passed between us on our passage, (which, though you may have forgotten, -I never can) I have cherished hopes, that perhaps your benevolence may -induce you to procure for me a situation in your neighbourhood, where I -may enjoy the comfort of your edifying and instructive conversation. -Could I obtain this blessing, it would be all I wish for; I should die -content. If you return a favourable answer, I shall instantly set out, -and I flatter myself that by easy stages I may accomplish the journey: -if on the contrary you reject my suit, I have only to thank you for -your favours past, resign myself to despair, and bid you everlastingly -farewel.” - -When John De Lancaster had read thus far, he eagerly enquired of Wilson -what answer he had returned to this pitiable appeal. I have told him, -replied Wilson, that I am about to fix my residence in the parish, of -which I am the minister, and as my parsonage house is by the bounty of -your grandfather rendered perfectly commodious, and has the further -recommendation of being situated in a fine air and very beautiful spot, -I shall very gladly receive him in it, and shew him all the attentions -in my power for such time as it may suit him to make use of it. - -The return of the post brought a letter from poor Anderton full of -acknowledgments for the generous offer, which he most gladly embraced, -and was eagerly employed in preparing for his journey. - -Nothing now remained but to wait the expiration of the time allotted to -the forms of mourning. That interval was not chequered by a single -incident, that could disturb the happiness of our hero, or of any of -those worthy characters, whose story may have gained an interest in the -reader’s wishes. - -Anderton, having slowly crawled through his long length of journey, -arrived at Kray Castle, where Edward Wilson waited for him; and having -lived to see the lovely daughter of his friend in perfect happiness and -high prosperity, retired with Wilson to his calm asylum, where after a -short period profitably employed he closed his days in peace. - -Mr. Devereux, having delivered over to his son the management of his -concerns in Portugal, came with the Major and Maria to England, and -having paid a visit to the family at Kray Castle, established himself in -his fine old mansion in Herefordshire, in the centre of a noble -property, augmented by purchases and embellished by improvements. - -Colonel Wilson lived to see his beloved Edward, after the decease of -Anderton, married to the amiable and accomplished daughter of Sir Arthur -Floyd. His frequent visits at Sir Arthur’s house, which was within a -very short distance of his own, had naturally given rise to an -attachment, which, when Anderton’s bequest had established him in -affluence, and not till then, he made known, and found his well-placed -passion was returned. - -The good old Morgan kept a gay heart, and the gout at a distance. -Whilst he was for ever laying out a character for himself, which every -action of his life contradicted, no persuasion could divert him from -ordering new carriages to be built and fine horses to be bought in town -for the purpose of setting out his grandson with a splendid equipage, -that he had no wish for. He bustled over in prodigious haste to Glen -Morgan, as soon as ever the day was named for the wedding, and gave -directions that open house should be kept for three days after that -event took place, and free allowance without stint to all drunken -idlers, that chose to lend a hand to the draining of his cellars. - -When his brother-in-law gravely took him to task, and remonstrated -against these lawless proceedings, as tending to produce nothing but -riot and disorder, he stuck boldly to his text, and would not waver; -contending that it was fit and right the tillers of the soil should -enjoy the produce of the soil, and, if they quarrelled over their cups, -they might fight it out over their cups for what he cared; a few broken -heads would set all to rights; and as for riots and disturbances, if the -county could not keep its own peace, he hoped he was not bound to keep -it for them. - -In the mean time he was not wholly inattentive to his own person, but -found a half-crazed chattering Denbigh tailor to fit him out with a -flaming suit, laced down the seams, like the jacket of a drum-major; and -at the same time provided himself with a most tremendous perriwig, and -long cravat of Brussels lace. He was with difficulty prevented from -heaping tawdry ornaments and trinkets upon Amelia, that would totally -have destroyed all those charms, which the elegant simplicity of her own -taste knew so much better how to set off and recommend. But the Jew -Lyons exhibited a glittering show-box, and having trapped him into the -purchase of the French watch, that he bestowed upon Amelia, knew the -value of so good a customer. - -Cecilia De Lancaster was the presiding spirit, that kept all things -straight and steady in their course: at her command they moved, by her -discretion they were governed and directed. Under her control joy was -not suffered to run riot, and the vagaries of old Morgan were kept -within bounds: to any other authority but her’s he paid no regard, and -had a way of parrying the railleries of Wilson, and the remonstrances of -De Lancaster. - -That venerable and worthy personage preserved a dignified tranquillity. -A smile sate upon his countenance, and his eyes brightened when he -turned them on Amelia and his grandson. He caused a considerable length -of parchment to be added to his roll of pedigree, for the purpose of -leaving space for the future descendants from John De Lancaster and -Amelia Jones. He put old David upon composing an epithalamium, which -when written down as he dictated it, turned out to be very little -shorter than _the Last Lay of the Minstrel_. Neither was his own genius -unemployed, for he composed, and was at the pains of writing with his -own hand a set of maxims, which he intitled _rules for domestic -happiness in the married state_. They consisted chiefly of truisms, -which he was at the pains of proving; and of errors so obvious, that -examination could not make them clearer. He pointed out so many ways, by -which man and wife must render each other miserable, that he seemed to -have forgot, that the purport of his rules was to make them happy. So -little was this learned work adapted to the object held out in the -title, that, if it had been pasted up for general use on the door of a -church, it may be doubted if any, who had read it, would have entered -there to be married. - -He delivered it however with much solemnity to his grandson--saying to -him--Here is a proof, my dear John, how seriously my thoughts have been -employed for your instruction: govern yourself by these rules, and you -will be happy. - -If I govern myself by your example, John made answer, I shall have no -need of rules. - -On the evening preceding the wedding-day, John drew Amelia aside, and -conducting her to the private chamber, which he made his study, produced -a case, which he said contained the family jewels of the De Lancasters -and Morgans, newly set--I have added nothing to them, he said, for I am -fully conscious they can add nothing to you: It is fit however that you -should have them, and wear them, when you see occasion: our friends seem -to wish it, and our fortune fully warrants it. When I shall put this -plain good ring upon your finger to-morrow, and confirm it as the -symbol of our union with an oath before the altar, trifles like these -jewels will have no further value, as the test of my affection: that is -made secure to you, not only by the graces of your person, which -ornaments cannot improve, but also by the virtues of your mind, which -time cannot impair. - - - FINIS. - - - Harding and Wright, Printers, St. John’s Square. - - - Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - - hands presed=> hands pressed {pg 77} - - with that beolved=> with that beloved {pg 106} - - for these epeated=> for these repeated {pg 107} - - know she is=> know he is {pg 140} - - The hopsitality=> The hospitality {pg 142} - - Did’nt you accept=> Didn’t you accept {pg 195} - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. -III. *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/69057-0.zip b/old/69057-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index db70619..0000000 --- a/old/69057-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69057-h.zip b/old/69057-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 26ab2a2..0000000 --- a/old/69057-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69057-h/69057-h.htm b/old/69057-h/69057-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 3d8f60d..0000000 --- a/old/69057-h/69057-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4578 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of John De Lancaster; vol. III, by Richard Cumberland. -</title> -<style> - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - -.big {font-size: 130%;} - -.blk {page-break-before:always;page-break-after:always;} - -body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -.blockquot {margin:2% 8%;} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.fint {text-align:center;text-indent:0%; -margin-top:2em;} - -.figcenter {margin:3% auto 3% auto;clear:both; -text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-weight:normal;} - - h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:120%;font-weight:normal;} - - h3 {margin:4% auto 2% auto;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-weight:normal;} - - hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} - - .hrt {width:20%;margin:.2em auto;clear:both;color:black; -margin-top:2em;border-top:3px solid black;padding:.1em; -border-bottom:1px solid black; -border-left:none; -border-right:none;} - - .hrb {width:20%;margin:.2em auto;clear:both;color:black; -margin-bottom:2em; -border-top:1px solid black;padding:.1em; -border-bottom:3px solid black; -border-left:none; -border-right:none;} - - hr.full {width: 60%;margin:2% auto 2% auto;border-top:1px solid black; -padding:.1em;border-bottom:1px solid black;border-left:none;border-right:none;} - - img {border:none;} - -.indd2 {text-indent:12%;} - - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} - -.r {text-align:right;margin-right: 5%;} - -.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:110%; -font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:.1em;} - -table {margin:2% auto;border:none;} - -div.poetry {text-align:center;} -div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; -display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -</style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of John de Lancaster; vol. III., by Richard Cumberland</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: John de Lancaster; vol. III.</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Richard Cumberland</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 27, 2022 [eBook #69057]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. III. ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" -height="550" alt="[The image of -the book's cover is unavailable.]" /></a> -</p> - -<p class="cb"><span class="big">JOHN DE LANCASTER.</span><br /><br /> -<img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /><br /><br /> -VOLUME III.</p> - -<div class="blk"> -<table style="border: 2px black solid;margin:1em auto; -max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td class="c">Contents.<br /> -<a href="#JOHN_DE_LANCASTER">JOHN DE LANCASTER.</a><br /><br /> -<a href="#BOOK_THE_FIRST">BOOK THE FIRST.</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I-a">CHAPTER I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II-a"> II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III-a"> III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV-a"> IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V-a"> V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI-a"> VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII-a"> VII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII-a"> VIII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX-a"> IX. </a><br /><br /> -<a href="#BOOK_THE_SECOND">BOOK THE SECOND. </a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I-b"> I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II-b"> II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III-b"> III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV-b"> IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V-b"> V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI-b"> VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII-b"> VII. </a><br /><br /> -<a href="#BOOK_THE_THIRD">BOOK THE THIRD. </a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I-c"> I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II-c"> II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III-c"> III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV-c"> IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V-c"> V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI-c"> VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII-c"> VII. </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII-c"> VIII. </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX-c"> IX. </a> -<br /><br />Some typographical errors have been corrected; -<a href="#transcrib">a list follows the text</a>.<br /> -(etext transcriber's note)</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class="blk"> -<h1>JOHN DE LANCASTER.</h1> - -<p class="c">A NOVEL.<br /> -<br /> -BY<br /> -<br /> -<i>RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ.</i><br /> -<br /> -IN THREE VOLUMES.<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="hrt" /> -<p class="c"> -VOL. III.</p> -<hr class="hrb" /> - -<p class="c"><i>LONDON</i>:<br /> -<br /> -PRINTED FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO.<br /> -<br /> -TEMPLE OF THE MUSES,<br /> -<br /> -FINSBURY-SQUARE.<br /> -———<br /> -1809.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p class="c">Harding and Wright, Printers, St. John’s Square.<br /><br /><br /> -<a id="JOHN_DE_LANCASTER"></a><span class="big"><b>JOHN DE LANCASTER.</b></span></p> - -<h2><a id="BOOK_THE_FIRST"></a>BOOK THE FIRST.</h2> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_I-a"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<i>The Arrival of the Party from Glen Morgan at Kray Castle.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the morning of the day after that, in which the miserable remains of -old Ap Rees’s hapless daughter were interred, the whole party under -orders of march for Kray Castle took their leave of Glen Morgan; the -Wilsons, father and son, with Amelia and Mrs. Jennings, in the coach, -and John, as usual, on his favourite horse; the equipage of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_2">{2}</a></span> Mr. De -Lancaster, properly attended, having arrived the day before.</p> - -<p>An apartment, commanding a very beautiful prospect, had been made ready -for Amelia, by the order and under the inspection of the presiding lady -of the castle, who with the taste and elegance natural to her had fitted -it with every thing, that could be devised for the use, ornament or -amusement of the fair visitor, who was destined to take possession of -it. In a very handsome dressing-room adjoining to the bed-chamber, and -communicating by a flight of steps with a flower-garden in high -cultivation, Cecilia had provided a selection of well-chosen books, nor -was music overlooked in the catalogue of accommodations there collected -and displayed. A young woman, daughter of an old domestic, and perfectly -qualified to wait upon the per<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_3">{3}</a></span>son of a lady, was instructed to consider -herself as specially and exclusively attached to the service of Miss -Jones.</p> - -<p>When the turret-bell gave the signal of an arrival, the servants of the -castle arranged themselves in the hall, nor was the harp silent upon the -entrance of our hero, conducting the fair stranger through their -respectful files to the saloon, where Cecilia received them. After they -had reposed themselves for a few minutes Mr. De Lancaster entered, and -with a gracious smile made his cordial salutations to each in turn, -reserving his embrace for John, last, but not least in his favour.</p> - -<p>When I see my family circle, he said, thus recruited by the return of my -former inmates, and graced with the accession of my new ones, I -experience a pleasurable conviction, that so long as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_4">{4}</a></span> Providence shall -indulge me with a capacity to enjoy these blessings, I should be, and I -am, devoutly thankful, although one member of our community has been -lately lost, and in the instance of the other, who is absent, I am -totally disappointed and defeated of all hope. To you, John De -Lancaster, my grandson, in whom I glory, I render thanks for the honour -you have conferred upon my name and family by your noble conduct in the -melancholy case of old Ap Rees’s daughter; and I am particularly -pleased, that your generous feelings for the injured did not betray you -into angry and intemperate personalities against the worthless wretch, -whom Heaven, not you, must call to his account. In his melancholy fate -we see an instance of the impolicy as well as the impiety of setting all -regard to character at de<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_5">{5}</a></span>fiance. The evil spirit hath not so -established his authority upon earth, that men will risque to be the -friends of him, who dares to be the foe of virtue. Innocence will not be -violated, nor justice braved and insulted with impunity. Where is there -one amongst all the favourites of fortune, to whom more happy -opportunities and brighter hopes of prosperity have been vouchsafed, -than to that young man, who is now become the object of our aversion and -contempt? What might he not have been? Alas, what is he now?</p> - -<p>I should be at a loss, said the elder Wilson, to answer that question, -because I could not find words in the language to express his crimes: -but murder of the blackest cast is amongst them, so that methinks is one -item, which has a pretty good right to cry out in the cata<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_6">{6}</a></span>logue. Were I -on his court-martial, I would hang him without mercy, and I think I -could almost find in my heart to be present at his execution.</p> - -<p>Not you, not you, said Cecilia in an under-tone, and laid her gentle and -reproving hand upon his shoulder.</p> - -<p>She is right, resumed De Lancaster; she knows you better than you know -yourself. I am persuaded you are no otherwise a friend to punishment but -as it tends to reformation; that is not the property of hanging. The -poor Irish criminal, who before he was turned off ingenuously declared -it should be a warning to him in future, materially mistook his own -case. Excision is no cure: I much doubt, if that dreadful process ought -to be resorted to in any instance.</p> - -<p>Surely not, the colonel observed, except to save the body’s health: -with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_7">{7}</a></span> that view I myself submitted to the amputation of a limb.</p> - -<p>Secure the community, De Lancaster rejoined, against further danger from -the obnoxious member, and let no man’s extinguishing decree deprive his -guilty fellow creature of a chance for repentance and atonement. Here, -if I mistake not, we may let the question rest, and relieve the ladies -present from a painful disquisition.</p> - -<p>Upon John’s enquiring of his aunt, if she had any news of his father, -she informed him she had received a large pacquet, which was not -producible except in private; and in truth it was a journal, which not -only on account of its prolixity, but of its absurdity also, requires a -separate and exclusive chapter.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_8">{8}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_II-a"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<i>The Journal of Mr. Philip De Lancaster.</i></h3> - -<p class="indd2"> -“Dear Sister!”<br /> -</p> - -<p>“When I arrived at Milford Haven I found a vessel bound to Liverpool, of -which I availed myself for a passage, as travelling in rough roads is -extremely troublesome. The master of the vessel was a very affable and -entertaining gentleman, and having been three times on a slaving voyage -to the coast of Africa, had acquired a perfect knowledge both of men and -manners.</p> - -<p>“When we dropped anchor at Liverpool, the crowd and hurry on the quay -appeared to me to be such, that I held it best to keep quiet in the -cabin of the brig, that brought me thither. Being<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_9">{9}</a></span> in no capacity for -making enquiries in my own person about a passage to the South of -France, I did not like to manifest to my friendly captain a desire to -quit his company, which had become so agreeable to me; I thereupon came -to a determination of taking my chance with him, and when I understood -his destination to be for the fourth time to the coast of Africa, I -considered that one warm climate was like another, and warmth being what -I was in search of for Mrs. De Lancaster, he assured me that I should -find it there in perfection; this being ascertained I engaged for the -voyage, avoiding thereby all further trouble either to myself or him -about a matter of such absolute indifference.</p> - -<p>“It cost some time to ship the cargo he was taking out with him, and -gave me some annoyance whilst his crew were<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_10">{10}</a></span> stowing it, as they are in -the habit of accompanying their work with certain noises, far from -melodious, and intelligible only to themselves. I had however a faculty -of sleeping pretty generally through it all, which made time, heavy at -the best, pass off very tolerably, till we set sail and took leave of -land and all its troublesome concerns. I understood from the people that -went on shore, that the town of Liverpool would have been highly worth -my seeing, and I have every reason to believe their information was -correct.</p> - -<p>“We commenced our voyage in pleasant weather; the captain’s conversation -was on many points entirely new and very edifying on that account. He -kept a liberal table, particularly in the article of salt-fish, of which -he had a considerable cargo on board; but when he had no<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_11">{11}</a></span> longer a -supply of eggs to recommend his salt-fish, I must confess I was -sometimes puzzled how to make a dinner, especially as his soup had a -taste, to which I had not as yet familiarized my palate.</p> - -<p>“During our passage through the Bay of Biscay I perceived the vessel to -have considerable motion, but there is a lulling property in the -vacillation of a hammock, that promotes repose.</p> - -<p>“One day, when I was told we were off the coast of Portugal, and I began -to inhale odours from the shore, that were infinitely preferable to -those of the salt-fish in the ship, I had a curiosity for the first time -to visit the accommodations below, when I was tempted to ask my friend -the captain for what purpose he had parted off a portion of his hold -with iron gratings like those of a prison, and also why he had provided -such a collec<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_12">{12}</a></span>tion of handcuffs, fetters and other instruments, that -seemed calculated both for torture and confinement.</p> - -<p>“He was a very communicative man, and did not hesitate to inform me, -that being a trader in negro slaves, it was necessary for him to be well -stored with all those conveniences for security’s sake; For how else, -said he, could I be sure that those savages, who have no understanding -of the happiness in store for them, would not rise upon us and cut all -our throats?—Though I immediately saw all the force of his reasoning, I -was a little staggered by the nature of his intelligence; and this I -think it probable that he perceived, for he was pleased to say, that, -being bound in the first instance for the Tagus, he would set me down -with his cargo of salt fish at Lisbon, if I had the least objection to -pro<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_13">{13}</a></span>ceeding any further. I thanked him for his civility, and candidly -confessed that although I could have no objection to the removal of his -salt fish, I should think it ill exchanged for his cargo of slaves. I -accordingly accepted his alternative of leaving me at Lisbon; where, -though I should much regret the loss of his society, I might avail -myself of the opportunity of visiting the famous aqueduct of Alcantara, -of which I had heard so wonderful an account, and was anxious to enjoy -the sight.</p> - -<p>“The captain acknowledged that he had heard there was such a thing to be -seen in the near neighbourhood of Lisbon, but as he had no particular -taste for sights of that sort, he had not troubled himself to go out of -his way for it: he was pleased however in the politest manner to repeat -his offer of setting me<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_14">{14}</a></span> down at Lisbon; observing to me with great -satisfaction, that as we were now happily arrived within the mouth of -the river we had nothing further to apprehend; for he could assure me we -were fairly out of all possibility of mischance, being in the track of -the safest navigation in the world.</p> - -<p>“In the very moment whilst this experienced navigator was cheering me -and himself with these pleasant assurances, a sudden shock of the vessel -threw him from his balance, and catching hold of me as he was falling, -we came together upon the deck with a considerable degree of violence. -As he fell upon me he had the advantage of being first upon his legs, -which he employed with all speed in rushing forwards to the forecastle, -whilst I was endeavouring to save myself from further bruises; for now -a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_15">{15}</a></span> cry ran through the ship, that we were stranded on a rock, and -sinking bodily. Of this information I had soon no reason to doubt, as -the water rushed in with great impetuosity. The crew were eagerly -employed in getting out the boat; but as I was persuaded that they, who -were at the trouble of launching, would naturally be the first to make -use of it, I persisted to keep my post, being resolved not to disgrace -the character of a true De Lancaster by betraying the least symptom of -impatience or alarm.</p> - -<p>“When I had stayed till the treading over-head had ceased, and the -captain along-side was calling upon me by name to come on board the boat -and save myself, or stay where I was and be drowned, I thought it -behoved me to avail myself of an alternative, so fairly stated, though -my compliance with his offer of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_16">{16}</a></span> rescuing me from the sinking ship was -attended with no small degree of trouble and inconvenience, for I now -perceived myself to be sorely bruised.</p> - -<p>“I exerted myself to the utmost in getting into the boat, yet my efforts -being not sufficiently adroit to satisfy the gentlemen, who were eager -to push off, I heard myself saluted with a general volley of oaths and -ludicrous buffooneries allusive to my awkwardness, which I can truly -aver were the only uncivil words, that I received from either captain or -crew, whilst I had the pleasure of sailing with them.</p> - -<p>“The boat, in which I was, belonged to one of our Lisbon pacquets, that -had the humanity to stop her course and assist us in our distress. On -board this charitable ship I was at length conveyed, and was agreably -surprised to find<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_17">{17}</a></span> myself thus unexpectedly amongst my friends and -neighbours; young Sir David Owen and his amiable mother being passengers -and bound to Lisbon. To the humanity of these friends I am indebted for -the comforts I am now enjoying in an excellent hotel on an eminence -called Buenos Ayres, from whence, if my contusions allowed me to get out -of my bed, I might enjoy a beautiful view of the town and river, and in -which, were it not for the annoyance of the flies and more domestic -vermin, I might assuage my pains with the luxury of sleep; but this, -when more familiarized to the customs of these insects, I hope still to -enjoy.</p> - -<p>“There has been another slight shock of an earthquake yesterday, but as -I was in my bed, it did not disturb me near so<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_18">{18}</a></span> much as that of the -ship, when she ran upon the rock.</p> - -<p>“As soon as I regain the use of my limbs, I shall look out for a -suitable abode for Mrs. De Lancaster in this delicious place, where I -promise myself a high entertainment in surveying the dilapidations and -disorders occasioned by the great earthquake, which has made the town a -heap of interesting ruins.</p> - -<p>“I have written you a long letter, so, with my duty to my father and -regards to all at home, I conclude myself, dear sister,</p> - -<p class="c"> -“Your very faithful servant<br /> -and loving brother,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">Philip De Lancaster</span>.”<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_19">{19}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_III-a"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<i>Mr. Philip De Lancaster in his Hotel at Lisbon receives the News of his -Lady’s Death, and is visited by Sir David Ap Owen. The Consequences of -that Interview are related.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> this letter was read by our hero with mixed impressions of vexation -and disgust it is little to be wondered at, for certainly no character -less extravagantly absurd than that of Philip could have dictated such a -narrative in a serious mood and without varying from the truth of fact. -The intelligence of his wife’s decease was now gone to him at Lisbon, -and the consequences, that might ensue from the fatal weakness of his -intellect and the interested cunning of the widow Owen were very -seriously to be apprehended.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_20">{20}</a></span></p> - -<p>His natural indolence still kept him a voluntary prisoner in his hotel -at Buenos Ayres and under the hands of his surgeon, though he had no -longer any need of surgical assistance. When Cecilia’s letter reached -his hands he was sitting, in all the costuma of a wounded invalid, in a -bed-gown and night-cap, with his leg, that, having once been bruised, -had not forfeited its privilege, resting on a stool provided with an -easy cushion. Having perused the contents, he deliberately folded up the -letter, laid it on the table before him, and, reclining back in his -chair, surrendered himself to a kind of drowsy meditation on the solemn -nature of the event, now communicated to him: at length, being in the -habit talking more confidentially to himself than to any other person, -he<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_21">{21}</a></span> murmured out the following reflections, as they presented themselves -to his mind without order or connection.</p> - -<p>“I thought she had not long to live. I was prepared for the event. It -was naturally to be expected, and Llewellyn himself seemed to cherish -very feeble hopes. Death is common; she is dead, and all the medicines -she has taken have been of no avail; even music could not save her. -Well! I have done my duty; witness the incredible pains and trouble I -have taken to seek out a suitable climate and commodious house for her -to winter in: one of these after infinite labour I had happily -discovered, and the other I was using unabating diligence to provide for -her. As things have turned out I might have spared myself this voyage; -but no matter—It is some consolation to reflect that I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_22">{22}</a></span> have done what -I could; and if my travels have not proved serviceable to her, for whose -sake I undertook them, they have not been totally unprofitable or -unpleasurable to me; for, with the exception only of the surfeit I got -of salt-fish, and the bruises I suffered by shipwreck, I passed my time -very comfortably at sea, and if I have not seen any thing worth my -notice on shore, I have been at least where it was to be seen, and that -is something for a man of curiosity like mine to reflect upon with -satisfaction. Now that I am a widower, and only in the noon of life, -people will be saying to me—Why don’t you marry again? This I am to -expect, but who can judge for me so well as I can for myself? Nobody -knows what matrimony is but those who have undergone the trial. A man -may risque it once in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_23">{23}</a></span> way of an experiment, but to repeat it is a -sacrifice to posterity and a compliment to the sex, which I am not -disposed to make. No, no; I must not come on there any more. Let me do -Mrs. De Lancaster the justice to confess, that there was an -accommodating lassitude in her, a hypochondriac inertness, a congelation -of all the volatile humours, harmonizing so entirely with my feelings, -that I despair of finding any second wife so happily endowed; I dare not -trust myself with the widow Ap Owen: she has indeed many excellent -endowments; and in spite of all my family can say against her I will -maintain my opinion of her as a very elegant engaging woman, aye, and -one, that in many respects is entirely to my taste, but then (oh Heaven -and earth!) her eyes are so quick, her voice so shrill, her<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_24">{24}</a></span> spirit so -high and her health alas! so alarmingly good, that I could never promise -myself a life of ease with her—No, no; she will not suit.”</p> - -<p>Just as he had struck upon this ante-hymeneal sentiment Sir David Ap -Owen came into his room—I am this instant arrived from Cintra, he said, -where in the loveliest spot upon the habitable globe I have been -entertained in a princely style by a gentleman of the factory, Devereux -by name, diamond contractor with the court of Portugal, and universally -looked up to as a man nobly descended and of great wealth. He has one -son, who jointly conducts his business, and one daughter, who to the -recommendation of a very handsome person adds that of a very -considerable fortune: In short, I have some thoughts of the girl, and in -consequence of that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_25">{25}</a></span> idea have a small favour to require of you.</p> - -<p>Name it, Sir David.</p> - -<p>Simply to take an opportunity of calling on Mr. Devereux, and in the -course of conversation naturally to say, that you know me to be what I -am—A man of honour, fortune and of high respectability on the score of -family. This is what I want from you, friend Philip, and all I want from -any man. You know it to be true and of course will have no difficulty in -averring it. I am a stranger in this country: impostors have assumed -names and titles, and Devereux, being a trader, is a cautious man. Come, -sir, put on your clothes, and accompany me directly: my carriage is in -waiting: as for your leg, it has been well these three weeks.</p> - -<p>But if I were to put on my clothes,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_26">{26}</a></span> Philip replied, I could not go out -in them, for I have no mourning, and by a letter from my sister, just -now received, I am informed that Mrs. De Lancaster is no more.</p> - -<p>Dead; defunct?</p> - -<p>Even so.</p> - -<p>That is an event indeed of great importance. In one respect it liberates -you; in another it enthrals, and binds you to your promise.</p> - -<p>I don’t rightly understand to what promise you allude.</p> - -<p>Is it possible, rejoined Sir David, (his fierce eyes flashing as his -fury kindled) is it possible you can feign to forget the engagement you -are under to a lady, whom I have the honour of being related to, and -whose natural protector I am? If your memory, Mr. Philip, is of that -deceitful unretentive texture, you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_27">{27}</a></span> are indeed a true De Lancaster. But -make good your engagement out of hand: a lady’s honour may not be -trifled with. The inveterate animosity of your rancorous son, so called, -and the injurious charges he has fostered, forged, and urged against me -in my absence, have this morning been reported to me by my agent at -Penruth. They are such as he must answer and atone for, unless you by -fulfilling your solemn promise to my mother, shall interpose your -fatherly mediation and heal the else irreparable breach between our -families.</p> - -<p>It is not my fault, Philip calmly replied; for all the world knows me to -be a man of peace and quiet; but as to healing breaches in the manner -you prescribe, give me leave to observe, Sir David, that it is a very -early day for me to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_28">{28}</a></span> be thinking of a second wife before I have yet put -on mourning for my first.</p> - -<p>Yet, sir, you must think of it, reiterated Sir David, (elevating his -voice) and seriously too, though I shall not hurry you in the execution -of it. You shall have time to mourn, if that be what you wish for; but -my spirit has been much too deeply galled by the son to bear any -aggravation from the gentleman, who allows himself to be called the -father—Therefore in one word—Your bond, sir, to my mother, or your -blood.—There is but this alternative: so take your choice.</p> - -<p>You will give me time, Sir David, to deliberate upon this.</p> - -<p>Just as much time, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, as it will cost my lawyer to -write out the bond. I will call upon you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_29">{29}</a></span> before two hours are past. -With these threatening words the loud-tongued bravo bolted out of the -room—Mercy on me, exclaimed the affrighted Philip, what shall I do now, -hedged in as I am between matrimony and murder?</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IV-a"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<i>Mr. Philip De Lancaster receives a second Visit from Sir David Ap Owen, -and is forced into Measures not very willingly acceded to.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Faithful</span> to his time, Sir David walked into poor Philip’s room without -ceremony, followed by the bearer of the bond, and accompanied by a -miscreant, who, in the counterfeited dress of an officer, was in his -true character and profession nothing better than a bully and assassin.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_30">{30}</a></span></p> - -<p>There is the bond, said Ap Owen, throwing it on the table: this -gentleman, who drew it up, will read it over to you, and point out the -place where you are to sign and seal. Though in itself a mere matter of -form, yet where a lady’s honour is concerned, it is a form -indispensable. It will behove you therefore instantly to complete it: if -not, this brave and gallant officer, who holds a respectable command in -the army of his most faithful majesty, and is my friend, will be under -the unpleasant necessity to demand satisfaction of you in my name, and -settle time and place for deciding our difference by the death of one of -us.</p> - -<p>Immediately the bond-bearer began to gabble it over with that kind of -inarticulate rapidity, which to Philip’s perturbed senses gave little -chance for understand<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_31">{31}</a></span>ing it. This ceremony being over, the operation of -signing and sealing was pressed forward with the utmost haste, and urged -by Sir David and his mock-military friend with no common importunity.</p> - -<p>What could poor Philip do, <i>hedged in</i>, as he had observed, <i>between -matrimony and murder</i>? He looked up, and in the face of the -black-whiskered demon-like assassin, that stood over him with the pen, -read his fate if he refused: he signed the bond, and sealed it with <i>the -winged harp</i>, that never since the days of Bladud had been so disgraced: -by this he was pledged to a penalty of twenty thousand pounds, if he -failed in the conditions, or, if he fulfilled them, consigned over to -the arms of Mrs. Rachel Ap Owen, relict of Mr. David Ap Owen, and -daughter of he knew not whom.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_32">{32}</a></span></p> - -<p>As soon as this was done, the bond-bearer folded up his paper, thrust it -into his bosom and walked off: the principal and his second sate down on -each side of Philip—We have now one common interest, said Sir David, -and are friends for life. The injurious treatment I have received from -those, with whom I shall be so nearly connected, and chiefly from your -son, may now be amicably adjusted. You, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, will be -united to one of the most amiable women in the world; a lady descended -from the illustrious house of De La Cerda, and endowed with every grace, -and every virtue, that can render the married state correctly honourable -and supremely happy.</p> - -<p>If it be but quiet, that is all I ask, poor Philip said in a desponding -tone. After a short pause he added—If this gentle<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_33">{33}</a></span>man has no particular -objection to leaving us alone, I should wish to say a few words to you, -Sir David, in private upon family concerns.</p> - -<p>Sir David desired the colonel, as he called him, to wait for him in the -next room: Philip took the liberty of informing him that he should go to -England by the pacquet for the purpose of settling some affairs, that in -consequence of Mrs. De Lancaster’s decease would require his presence.</p> - -<p>To this Sir David replied—I perceive you have not strictly attended to -the conditions of the bond, you would have else have known that to -separate yourself from my mother before marriage would involve you in -the forfeiture of it. We mean to pass the winter months at Cintra, where -I have engaged a house in the near neighbourhood of Mr. Deve<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_34">{34}</a></span>reux’s -villa. It is sufficiently large to accommodate us both; and you will -there not only find yourself in an earthly paradise, but enjoy the full -opportunity of cultivating a more close acquaintance with the truly -amiable object, who is destined to make your future days respectable and -happy. What a violation would it be of all the rules of gallantry and -good faith were you to run over to England and desert her! No, my dear -sir, (and here Sir David took his hand and attempted a look, which, if -he meant it as a smile, was a wretched and most libellous imitation) no, -my dear sir, he said, I could not for any consideration in life submit -to part from my good father-in-law elect, for whom I have conceived so -cordial an esteem, and in whose society I promise myself so many -agreeable hours. Having now<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_35">{35}</a></span> definitively adjusted your alliance with my -mother, I shall lose no further time in sounding Mr. Devereux on the -disposal of his daughter, and we may very probably effect a double -marriage at the same happy moment, provided only that I find the young -lady’s fortune answer my expectations.</p> - -<p>That is truly a very prudent consideration, Philip replied, and puts me -in mind, Sir David, to ask you what is the fortune I am to expect with -the lady your mother.</p> - -<p>The happiest that can befal you, was the answer, and a bond of twenty -thousand pounds cancelled on your wedding-day. With these words Ap Owen -left the room, whilst poor Philip, silenced but not satisfied, made no -further effort to detain him.</p> - -<p>Though Mrs. Rachel De Lancaster<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_36">{36}</a></span> had some grounds for expecting a -proposal, she had no such plea upon the score of actual promise as could -constitute a claim so peremptory as now was urged upon him; and with all -the partiality he had ever felt or expressed for the widow, it may well -be doubted if his dread of marriage would not in all cases have -outweighed his hopes of happiness. But now, crest-fallen and spiritless, -in a strange country, which he dare not quit, and conscious, that, -except within the walls of his far-distant home, he had not in the world -a friend, to whom he could unbosom his sorrows and appeal for succour -and advice, he poignantly felt the full impression of his distressful -situation. To his father he was ashamed to write; to his sister writing -could not serve him; Colonel Wilson was not a man for his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_37">{37}</a></span> purpose, and -there remained only his son John, whom, though he had hitherto treated -as a child, he now thought proper to address by letter; and in the -course of the next day, after as much meditation as his mind was capable -of, he wrote as follows.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Dear son!<br /> -</p> - -<p>“The circumstance of your mother’s death, communicated to me in a -letter from your aunt, has involved me in a very serious -difficulty, of which I lose no time to give you an account. Sir -David Ap Owen, who has settled himself here for the winter, and -with whom I am upon the best terms, has used very cogent means to -prevail upon me to enter into contract of marriage, claiming the -fulfilment of a promise, which he states that I have made to Mrs. -Rachel Ap Owen his mother, when I visited<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_38">{38}</a></span> her at Penruth Abbey. -Now though I will not deny but that words were said by me, which -she has a right to consider as extremely flattering, I do not think -they can be made to bear the interpretation of an absolute promise, -as insisted upon by Sir David. I protest to you, son John, I am not -a man inclined to hasty measures, more especially of a matrimonial -nature, being, as you know, rather studious of my repose; and of -course I took some pains to satisfy the gentleman that, with all -possible respect for the lady, it would suit me better to leave her -in possession of her tranquillity, and continue to enjoy my own. -Sir David’s answer to this was by the statement of an alternative, -which was not a little embarrassing, as he left me nothing but a -choice of difficulties; declaring that I must either instantly -decide to keep faith with his mother,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_39">{39}</a></span> and pledge myself to marry -her, or turn out with him and end the difference by the death of -one of us. Now though I am not afraid of death in a natural way, -knowing we all must die, yet I am for conscience-sake a most -determined enemy to duelling, by which my grandfather lost his -life; I therefore had insuperable objections to the latter part of -his proposal; and seeing him also accompanied by a gentleman of a -very martial appearance, who, though offering himself as second -only, seemed by far more terrible than his principal, I thought -good to compromise the matter, and executed a bond, obliging myself -under a very heavy penalty (not less than twenty thousand pounds) -to wed the lady on the expiration of three months to come. Now as -every one must acknowledge the uncommon merits<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_40">{40}</a></span> of Mrs. Rachel Ap -Owen, and none can be more sensible of them than I am, I console -myself with the reflection, that if I shall be perfectly recovered -from my bruises, when the time comes that our union is to take -place, it may prove the happy means of restoring that antient and -accustomed harmony between our families, which with much regret I -understand has of late been interrupted. You are thus possessed of -what I have to say, and as I suspect that my father will be adverse -to this hasty match; and doubt if even Cecilia with all her candour -will be entirely reconciled to it, I conjure you by your filial -duty and affection, if you find them obstinate in their opposition, -to come over in person to my relief and comfort; forasmuch I am -bound not to stir from this country, and so closely watched that,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_41">{41}</a></span> -were I disposed to attempt it, I am certain the attempt would be -frustrated, and perhaps be fatal.</p> - -<p>“This is the first letter I ever wrote to you; lay it to your -heart: recollect that you are my son, and if haply you possess that -active spirit of your ancestors, which has not descended upon me, -take pity on my situation, and hasten to the rescue of your -affectionate, but afflicted, father—</p> - -<p class="r"> -“<span class="smcap">Philip de Lancaster</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>Philip had just time to set his name to this lamentable epistle, when a -young gentleman of good person and elegant address, who had been -announced by the name of Devereux, entered the room. He understood Mr. -De Lancaster to be in habits of friendship with Sir David Ap Owen, and, -if he had not<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_42">{42}</a></span> been misinformed, they were near neighbours in -Merionethshire.</p> - -<p>Philip said he had been rightly informed. They were near neighbours. Sir -David’s seat at Penruth was not above four miles from Kray Castle, where -he lived with his father.</p> - -<p>Penruth has been represented to me, said the gentleman, as a very fine -old venerable mansion—Philip nodded assent—And the estate about it -very considerable; indeed, as I have been told, very capital.</p> - -<p>I have been told the same, Philip said; but I am not curious about -people’s estates. Sir Owen, this young gentleman’s uncle, lived very -handsomely, and very hospitably, upon it. That is all I know of the -matter.</p> - -<p>I suspect, rejoined the other, I may appear to you more inquisitive than -I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_43">{43}</a></span> ought to be; but I beg leave to say in my own defence that I was -particularly referred to you by Sir David himself.</p> - -<p>Sir David could not have referred you to a more unfit man: I am as -ignorant of my own father’s estate as I am of Sir David’s, and of Sir -David’s as I am of your’s.</p> - -<p>Why then, sir, I must pay a visit to Penruth myself; for I have my -father’s strict commands to obtain information of every particular -necessary for him to know relative to Sir David Ap Owen, who, I must now -tell you, has made proposals to us for marrying my sister.</p> - -<p>Yes, and to me, said Philip, for marrying his mother; you see therefore -it is a family-affair between us, and though I have not a single -syllable to offer why Sir David’s marriage with your sister should not -take place, I confess it would not break my heart if mine with his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_44">{44}</a></span> -mother was put off for ever. Now, sir, if you are bound to England, I -can truly say, I wish I were going with you; but if you meditate a visit -to Penruth Abbey, where there is nobody to receive you, I most earnestly -recommend it to you to turn aside and go to Kray Castle, where my father -and his family will be happy to see you, and where you may do me a -singular piece of service, if you will take charge of this letter, which -I have just been writing, and deliver it privately to my son, whilst I -will trouble you to be the bearer of a few lines to my good and worthy -father, simply to let him know how respectable a visitor I shall have -the honour to introduce to him, when you are pleased to avail yourself -of his well known hospitality.</p> - -<p>Sir, replied Devereux, I am setting off<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_45">{45}</a></span> for England in to-morrow’s -pacquet. Of your letter to your son I will take faithful charge, and -deliver it to him in the manner you prescribe. I also thankfully embrace -your very kind offer of introducing me to your father, of whose high -character for worth and honour I am not uninformed; whilst I must own -there is a mysterious kind of cloud about Sir David Ap Owen, through -which I am not able perfectly to see my way; for I find him totally -unknown to our British envoy here, and have not heard him say what -brings him and the lady, to whom it seems you are engaged, into this -country, having so lately succeeded to a great situation and -establishment in his own. With respect to his proposed connection with -my family, I must beg to say, that although we reside here in the -character and capa<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_46">{46}</a></span>city of merchants, we have nevertheless such -pretensions on the score of noble birth and property by no means -inconsiderable, as give us a perfect right to use every honorable -precaution for knowing whom we are to receive into our alliance, -provided the gentleman, who proposes, shall prove acceptable to us as -well as to my sister; on whom nothing has been sparingly bestowed, that -either nature could give or education improve.</p> - -<p>This being said, what further passed is not important to relate. Philip -wrote a short letter to his father, and having delivered it, and his -secret pacquet, to Mr. Devereux, took his leave of him, and as he -grasped his hand with a sensation, rarely, if ever, felt by him before, -he sent from his sad heart a longing sigh towards his beloved native -country,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_47">{47}</a></span> which fate, that had doomed him never more to visit it but as -a corpse, gave to the winds, that dispersed it on its passage.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_V-a"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<i>Another Soliloquy of Mr. Philip De Lancaster. Our History returns to -the Family at Kray Castle.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the Irish tailor, who had been a journeyman botcher in London, and -was now become a master of journeymen botchers in Lisbon, had invested -the well-made person of Mr. Philip De Lancaster in an ill-made suit of -rotten black, the mourning bridegroom elect, having paid the bill and -dismissed the bill-maker, examined himself in the glass, and thus, as -was customary with him, mournfully soliloquized<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_48">{48}</a></span>—</p> - -<p>“Luckless man that I am, must I put aside this habit on my wedding-day? -Wherefore; on what pretence; I have undergone that ceremony once -already, and by experience can more than guess to what sad hours that -ceremony leads. Marriage, by high authority denominated honourable, is, -through perversion of its purposes, to many become disgraceful, -burdensome to most, and a blessing, as I verily believe, to few, if any, -who know how to compute what is a blessing, and what is their bane. -There are indeed a few soft silly things amongst the mass of female -spinsters, that a man, who knows the value of their ignorance, might -possibly with proper care prevent from growing wiser; but a widow—(Oh -my hapless fortune, Rachel Owen is a widow—) who can keep in ignorance? -Not I; not any man.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_49">{49}</a></span></p> - -<p>“Her eyes, her air, her action, every movement and every word -prognosticate sagacity, that will not be deceived: then what a pipe? -Good Heaven, if that voice, which is so shrill whilst only warbling -Spanish tonadillas, that to me are unintelligible, shall be roused to -exert itself in plain English argumentation, farewel to all repose! nor -peace, nor quiet shall I ever know. How am I sure she is not a Jewess? -She may, for aught that I can tell, be lineally descended from that -wicked king, who put to death all the innocents; and if so, how shall I -escape? Happy Devereux, he is on the seas: would I were on them too, or -under them, rather than what I may be, aye, and shall be if that -sharp-eyed widow sets her wits to work. I begin to think I made a wrong -choice, and should have taken my chance of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_50">{50}</a></span> turning out with the son, -rather than of turning in where I shall have no chance at all. There -seems nothing left for me but to fall extremely sick, and that I may -really be so without feigning, I will instantly call in a Portuguese -physician, and (which is more than any patient less desperate will -promise) I am resolute to take his physic. Ah, where is my good friend -and countryman Llewellyn? My poor wife followed his prescriptions, and -behold! here am I in his livery, black as the hands of man can make me. -Ah Llewellyn, Llewellyn, in Wales it was quite enough for me to endure -your company; I never wished to be your patient till now that I am in -Lisbon, and under sentence of a dose more bitter and against my palate -than you ever mixed—But what if John De Lancaster should come upon my -call? There<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_51">{51}</a></span> would be a champion worthy of my cause: Glendowr’s magic -could not conjure up a braver or a stouter spirit. He is young, not -married, not, like me, bent to the yoke, but free, untrammeled and -untamed. I’ll cherish hope; I’ll feed upon the thought that my brave boy -will come, and vex myself no more.”</p> - -<p>Whilst this sad ditty was in recitation Devereux was wafted swiftly over -the ocean, favoured by a freshening gale, that blowed direct for -England, as if impatient to salute the mother of the winds and mistress -of the waves, amidst which she sits safe and encircled on her chalky -throne.</p> - -<p>Mean time our John De Lancaster, from whose society we have unwillingly -been separated for some short while, could hardly count the hours, so -quick<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_52">{52}</a></span> they passed, when with his loved Amelia by his side,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>They fled away with down upon their feet</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>It might now be most truly said that the good old chief of the family at -Kray Castle was surrounded by a groupe of happy subjects, all loyal, -free and affectionate, all witnessing his benevolence, regaling -themselves in the sunshine of his smile and sharing the enjoyments of -his hospitable board: his cooks seemed perfectly persuaded that spits -were made to turn, whilst his cellerman probably forgot that the -property of a spigot was to stop a barrel. Scarce a day passed, which -was not marked by the attention of his neighbouring friends; Sir Arthur -Floyd and the new allies were frequent in their visits, for they had a -passionate<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_53">{53}</a></span> affection for our hero, and whilst their eyes dwelt with -approving pleasure on the fair Amelia, they destined him to her arms, -and paid her their devoirs as to a bride elect.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Jennings, respited from all the anxious responsibility of a -governess, seemed to retain nothing but that unalterable affection for -her beloved charge, which was natural to her, and began to think of -retiring to her independence at Denbigh—I see you now, my dear Amelia, -she said, firmly seated in the hearts of this liberal and benignant -family, adopted by the excellent Cecilia, and favoured beyond all my -hopes by the venerable De Lancaster; and what more have I to do but to -lay down my cares, and rejoice in your good fortune? I have to the best -of my power fulfilled the promise, that I made to your dear<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_54">{54}</a></span> father, -whose conscious spirit, now in bliss, looks down upon you; my prayers -for your happiness, and for the life of him, on whom your happiness -depends, will for the remnant of my days be fervently put up to that -Almighty Power, whose attribute is mercy. Go on, my child, in the right -course, in which I strove to train you, and from which you never yet -have strayed. Cultivate Cecilia: Guard your young heart against the -dangerous allurements of sudden elevation, and that unlooked-for -prosperity, which is at hand to put your constancy, your piety, your -humility to the test. Mean, low-born persons are too apt to turn giddy -on the wheel of fortune, when it lifts them from the dirt; but -recollect, that in hereditary rank and dignity your pretensions are as -high as those of the De Lancasters<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_55">{55}</a></span> and Morgans, who in riches, not in -ancestry, have an advantage over you, and riches only, as you well know, -constitute no actual superiority. Let your humility therefore, though in -itself one of the most recommendatory qualities you can possess, be that -gentle virtue, which your religion dictates, but never let it sink below -the mark, at which true conscious honour has a right to stand.</p> - -<p>Cecilia’s lessons, not less edifying, were of another cast; for every -word, that fell from her lips, was tinctured with a suavity and grace -peculiar to her elegance of character. When she addressed her -admonitions to the heart, their object was to inspire it with -benevolence, with charity, with resignation and that christian -lowliness, which whilst on earth it sinks, secures its happiest surest -flight to Heaven. To these<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_56">{56}</a></span> Amelia listened with delight; on these she -formed herself, and, happily for her, whilst she received the precept, -she beheld the example, that confirmed it. Every day gave her new -graces, till the charms of beauty were but as ornaments, whose only use -is to set off the lustre of the real gem.</p> - -<p>As for the grand-father of her beloved, it was something curious to -remark how soon she found a strenuous advocate in him. When he descanted -she was all attention; nothing could draw her from him. He would say, -Amelia listens to me with good sense and apprehension: There is a marked -discernment in her silence, that is more pleasing, aye, and more -eloquent than all the studied praise that flattery can suggest—I have -been thinking, he said one day, as they were sitting in their family -circle, I have been thinking,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_57">{57}</a></span> John, that if I live to see the day when -you shall be of age, how perfectly it would complete and crown my -felicity, would you take it into your gallant mind to make me a present -on that joyful occasion. I would have you think it is not a trifle, that -will satisfy me. It must be a measure of your esteem for me, and a full -satisfaction, recompence and return for all the love, the care, the fond -anxiety, that you have merited and I bestowed. Look around, and tell me -if you guess my meaning.</p> - -<p>John had not far to look, for Amelia sate beside him struggling to -conceal her consciousness of the allusion, and dreading to hear that, -which would have given her such delight to have overheard without the -confusion of being present. In this instant, most opportunely for her -rescue, whilst all her<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_58">{58}</a></span> efforts could not prevent her blushes from -betraying her, the harp of David Williams sounded in the hall, and she -exclaimed above her usual pitch—Oh, what a charming strain.</p> - -<p>Bid him come in, said the old gentleman, addressing himself to his -grandson, and if the muse has visited her votary, perhaps she will -supply him with words to that strain, which our dear Amelia seems to be -so pleased with—David has a quick invention when his wits are well -warmed with his favourite metheglin.</p> - -<p>The minstrel entered and was led to a seat in the corner of the room, at -the farthest distance from the company assembled. Having lightly sounded -the strings of his harp to prove if they were in perfect tune, he asked -if the young stranger lady was in the room.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_59">{59}</a></span></p> - -<p>Mr. De Lancaster told him that Miss Amelia Jones was present, and had -expressed herself much pleased with the melody, which he had been -rehearsing in the hall: Could he play it over to them again?</p> - -<p>Perhaps not quite the same: He would attempt something as like it as he -could recollect, he hoped it would be not much worse, but he doubted if -it would be exactly the same.</p> - -<p>David, said De Lancaster again, you have enquired if Miss Jones is -present; I have told you that she is, and if you could see her, and be -satisfied how fair a lady you are invited to address, your muse, -inspired by her beauty, would be propitious, and mere melody would not -be all, that we should hear from you.</p> - -<p>Roused by this challenge to his genius, the blind old bard spread his -hands upon the harp, and having rested his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_60">{60}</a></span> forehead on the frame of it -for a very few minutes, after an appropriate prelude, extemporaneously -broke forth as follows.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Lady, they tell me thou art passing fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And blest by Heaven with a celestial mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear thee speaking, but I know not where,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For woe is me, poor minstrel! I am blind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet when the muse inspires me, I can trace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forms, that to mental vision seem divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My fancy can pourtray an angel’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dress it in angel smiles, and call it thine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still through the windings of these antient tow’rs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your dark musician can explore his way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my dear patron’s animating pow’rs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To these benighted orbs can give the day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Object of all our love, of all our care.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To thee, brave youth, our honest praise is giv’n;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy deeds, recorded in the poor man’s pray’r,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With that sweet incense shall ascend to Heav’n.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft have I bless’d thee, borne thee in my arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And oft have hush’d thy wailing infant cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or witching thy young heart with music’s charms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Chang’d the loud laugh to pity’s melting sigh.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_61">{61}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And shall not he, that feels the virgin’s wrongs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In some fond virgin’s nuptial arms be blest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst grateful bards record him in their songs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In love the happiest, and in heart the best?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But who is this in bridal robes array’d?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What beauteous vision is it that I see?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail, fair Amelia! this celestial shade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the bright form my day-dream shapes for thee.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VI-a"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<i>Devereux arrives at Kray Castle.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> David Williams had concluded his lay and retired, Mr. De Lancaster -gravely observed, that in ancient times prophecies and prayers and even -laws were delivered in verse; then, turning to his grandson, he said, -Let David’s vision be realized on the day that you are of age, and you -and I, John, shall be two of the happiest of human beings<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_62">{62}</a></span>—</p> - -<p>Here he was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who brought a -letter; it was that, which Philip had sent by young Devereux as his -introduction to the hospitalities of Kray Castle. A servant was -dispatched by Devereux with it as he entered the park, and the old -gentleman had barely time to read it to his family circle when the -porter’s bell announced an arrival. John hastened to the hall door, as -Devereux in his travelling equipage drove up, and received him with that -natural cordiality, which, assuring him of his welcome, might be said to -constitute friendship at first sight. When he presented him to his -father, the good man had entered the hall, and, taking him by the hand, -said—I have read the letter, Mr. Devereux, which you bring me from my -son, and am proud of the honour you confer<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_63">{63}</a></span> upon me. I beg you will -consider this house as your own, and the longer stay you shall think fit -to make in it, the happier we shall be. I know your noble family full -well, and respect every branch of it. He then said aloud to his -servants—See that proper care be taken of every thing belonging to Mr. -Devereux, and be sure you let his people want for nothing: they are -strangers to this country.</p> - -<p>During the ceremony of introducing him to Cecilia and the rest of the -family, in which Mr. De Lancaster was somewhat precise, young Devereux -acquitted himself as a gentleman familiar with good company, gracefully -and without embarrassment: in his person he was light and elegant, and -in his countenance there was great expression, though not perfect -symmetry of features: there was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_64">{64}</a></span> a quickness of intellect and of spirit -in his eyes, that nobody could mistake.</p> - -<p>He was speedily at his ease, and in answer to Mr. De Lancaster’s -enquiries said, that he had been extremely lucky in a good passage by -the pacquet, and not less so in his journey since his landing. He -expressed himself highly pleased in the opportunity he now had of -visiting his native country, for he was born and bred in Herefordshire, -where his father had an hereditary property, and it was part of his -business in England to look into the affairs of that estate.</p> - -<p>To Cecilia’s question about her brother’s health he replied, that Mr. De -Lancaster had received some slight hurt in the ship, that brought him -over, and when he visited him at Buenos Ayres, had his leg upon a chair; -but added with a smile that he believed he rested<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_65">{65}</a></span> it merely from habit, -as he observed, that he had the perfect use of it, whenever he had -occasion to employ it.</p> - -<p>That is so like him, said De Lancaster to Colonel Wilson—Aye, replied -the colonel, I would not change my wooden leg for both his, if I made no -better use of them than he does.</p> - -<p>Is my father coming over, said young De Lancaster?</p> - -<p>I believe not yet. He has friends at Cintra, and ’tis likely he may pass -the winter there.</p> - -<p>I hope, Mr. Devereux, the old gentleman observed, my son has the honour -of being known to your father, and that it is in his family he forms his -friendships.</p> - -<p>I have no doubt it will be so, Devereux replied; but at present Mr. De -Lancaster has formed no connexions but with a lady and gentleman, who I -believe are<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_66">{66}</a></span> neighbours of your’s, when they are at home. If I rightly -understand Sir David Ap Owen, who is the gentleman I allude to, he has a -considerable property in this county, and a handsome seat not far from -hence.</p> - -<p>Sir David Owen has a very antient and respectable station in this near -neighbourhood, called Penruth Abbey, and a very considerable property in -land about it. The lately deceased Sir Owen ap Owen was a worthy -gentleman, lived hospitably, and was respected by his countrymen and -neighbours: he was truly of a very antient stock, and I had the -happiness to consider him as my particular and very good friend. Penruth -Abbey is well worth your seeing, and if you have a wish to ride over, my -servants shall attend upon you. I am sorry to say, that between our -houses,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_67">{67}</a></span> since Sir Owen’s death, all intercourse is at an end.</p> - -<p>Devereux bowed, and on that subject said no more. The conversation then -took a general turn, till supper was served up by the orange-tawney -liverymen in great feudal state, and Devereux, to whom these specimens -of antient manners were extremely interesting, was in due time and order -ushered to an excellent apartment, by Cecilia’s direction elegantly set -out and provided with every thing, that was appropriate to his comfort -and repose.</p> - -<p>The next morning, after breakfast, he signified to John that he wished -to have a few minutes in private with him. In a rustic building at the -end of a walk, that winded though the ornamented ground, he delivered to -our young hero the letter he was secretly encharged<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_68">{68}</a></span> with from poor -Philip—When he had read the letter, John said, there is matter in this -letter, that concerns me nearly, and affects me deeply. Are the -contents, so far as they relate to my father’s situation with the widow -Ap Owen, known to you?</p> - -<p>In some degree Devereux confessed they were not unknown to him. He had -been informed by Sir David that Mr. De Lancaster had entered into an -engagement for marrying that lady.</p> - -<p>I would go to the farthest foot of land on the globe of earth, said -John, to save him from that fatal, that disgraceful, that detestable -connection. Rather would I see my father dead and in his coffin, nay, -rather would I die myself, than see him married to that odious, that -felonious woman.</p> - -<p>You astonish me, cried Devereux; she<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_69">{69}</a></span> must artfully have concealed her -character from me, if it merits to be so described, which I must not -presume to doubt of. And now, Mr. De Lancaster, since you have so far -trusted to me by committing yourself to expressions of such abhorrence -with respect to that lady’s character, I will, with your permission, -confide to you the situation, in which I stand towards her son—Sir -David Ap Owen has made proposals of marriage with my sister—(John -started, and betrayed considerable agitation)—Yes sir, he has offered -himself to my father, and it is solely upon that account I am come over -to assure myself of particulars as stated by Sir David, touching the -character, which he bears in his county, the family he is of, and the -fortune he possesses. Now my father conceives, though for the present he -is engaged in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_70">{70}</a></span> contracts as a trader, yet that he is intitled both by -birth and property to be perfectly secured from any misrepresentation -whatsoever, and I must freely confess we think there is some mystery -about Sir David, and cannot divine his motive for deserting a fine place -and property, so newly devolved upon him, and coming to Lisbon of all -places in the world, unless upon the plea of health, which by no means -seems to be the case either with his mother or himself. His pretensions, -as he states them, are such as my father cannot reasonably oppose, and -it does not appear, if we were satisfied as to all essential points of -character and general conduct, that Sir David Ap Owen would be -unacceptable to my sister, who, I must take the liberty to say, is -qualified to look quite as high, as to this gentleman, who addresses -her; and,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_71">{71}</a></span> having no flaw in her pretensions, has a right to expect that -none such shall be found in his. In this predicament I stand, protector -of a sister’s honour, and responsible for her happiness, which I am sure -you will allow to be a serious and a sacred trust. If therefore you -could bring your mind to put that repose in my honour, which, if you -knew me better, I flatter myself you would not withhold, and would speak -to me as friend to friend respecting this connection, you would confer -the greatest favour possible on me and mine.</p> - -<p>Sir, replied the gallant youth, (touched to the heart by the appeal now -made to him, which brought to his recollection poor Ap Rees’s case) I -have no doubt of your honour, and as I am determined to go over to the -rescue of my father from his dangerous situation, you shall in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_72">{72}</a></span> mean -time hear nothing from me, or in my company, relative to Sir David, -which I will not be ready to avouch in presence of your father to Sir -David’s face, if you can bring him to the meeting. However, sir, as -there are certain restrictions, which bear with extreme force upon me, -and do not affect others equally able to satisfy your enquiries, I will -instantly conduct you, if you have no objection to lengthen your walk, -to a place, where every thing shall be made known to you by one, whose -veracity cannot be questioned.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_73">{73}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VII-a"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<i>John De Lancaster and Devereux visit the Minstrel Ap Rees.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was to the romantic little tenement, which John De Lancaster in his -bounty had bestowed upon Ap Rees, he now proceeded with his companion -Devereux, pondering by the way upon the wretched situation of his -helpless father, and devising means how to overcome the difficulties, -that he foresaw would assail him in his project for leaving England. He -could as yet see no way through the labyrinth of obstacles, that from -all quarters would be opposed to his departure; and of these the sorrows -of Amelia, though probably the least obtrusive, were by no means the -least to be apprehended, or the easiest to surmount.</p> - -<p>The information he could gain from<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_74">{74}</a></span> Devereux did not in all points -satisfy his curiosity; for Sir David Ap Owen had said nothing to him of -the menaces he employed for obtaining the bond, and with Philip he had -had but one interview, which disclosed still less of what John wanted to -be explained than the letter, which he had been reading.</p> - -<p>As they went on their way discoursing, the cottage of Ap Rees in all its -rural loveliness caught the eyes of Devereux, and caused him to break -forth in rapturous admiration of it—We are going thither, said our -hero. That is the habitation of the minstrel Ap Rees, who from his -childhood has been domesticated in the Ap Owen family, and is, as you -will soon discover, a person of no ordinary talents; and although now -old and blind, and (which is worse than both) broken-hearted by -misfortunes, yet is he second to none that our coun<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_75">{75}</a></span>try has to boast of, -either as harmonist or bard.</p> - -<p>Alas! said Devereux, old and blind and full of sorrows, with feelings -yet alive to every pang they give him, what accumulated misery must his -be! Heavy enough, I should conceive, must be his loss, who cannot see -the beauties of this lovely spot, nor gratify his senses with the -scenery, that nature in the wantonness of her luxuriance spreads around -him. But doubtless it is to the bounty of the heir of the Ap Owens, that -he owes these comforts, this asylum for old age to rest in, till -Providence shall graciously be pleased to terminate his sorrows, and -close those eyes in death, that are already merged in darkness and -despair.</p> - -<p>’Tis natural, John replied, that you should so conjecture: but no Ap -Owen gave him that asylum.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_76">{76}</a></span></p> - -<p>To whom then does he owe it?</p> - -<p>No answer was given to this question; and now the notes of the harp, -accompanied by the voice, caused them to stop and listen at the wicket -of the little plat of grass, that for a few yards ran sloping down from -the cottage. The harmony was of the most pathetic, sad and solemn cast, -delicately touched by the hand of the master, but of the words they -could distinguish few, expect that by a passage more strongly given out -than the rest, they concluded it to be the lamentation of a father at -the funeral of his child.</p> - -<p>He ceased and all was silent in the house—’Tis exquisite, said -Devereux; but pray don’t ask him to repeat it. I should not like to see -him, and to hear him at the same time—John walked up to the house-door, -opened it gently, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_77">{77}</a></span> entered the room, followed by Devereux.</p> - -<p>The old man had replaced himself in his elbow chair; his son Robert had -put away his harp, and in a corner of the room apart sate a young woman, -who held her white apron to her eyes, and appeared to be weeping.</p> - -<p>As soon as Robert announced Mr. John De Lancaster Ap Rees rose from his -seat, and with his claspt hands pressed upon his bosom, bowed his head -and exclaimed—The Providence of Heaven be with you, my most honoured -benefactor! Are you come to visit your poor beadsman? Oh, that I could -see you! With the benevolence of an angel in your heart I am sure you -must have the divinity of an angel in your countenance.</p> - -<p>Robin, said the youth, do not address<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_78">{78}</a></span> me in those terms. Call me your -friend; for such I really am. The gratification I receive in giving -comfort to a man like you, if indeed you are comforted, is full -repayment; I deserve no praise. Now tell me sincerely; what is there -besides that I can do to put you at your ease?</p> - -<p>Nothing is wanting, he replied: Man can do no more for man than you have -done for me. I have my son yet left; thanks to your bounteous goodness -for the blessing! she in the corner, Sally Gwynne by name, a kinswoman -of my late wife, is a good girl and waits upon me kindly: she was the -beloved friend of my poor Nancy, and has been much affected by my -mournful dirge: I did not know it, else I would have stopped. But sure I -hear the footsteps of another in the room.</p> - -<p>Your ear is correct, said De Lancas<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_79">{79}</a></span>ter. It is Mr. Devereux, a friend of -mine. He listened to your dirge with great attention. I would not have -you to repeat it, but let him know the purport. Tell that young woman to -withdraw—And now I am about to put a melancholy task upon you, but it -much concerns me, that this gentleman, newly arrived from Lisbon, should -hear you briefly, truly and distinctly relate the manner of your -daughter’s death.</p> - -<p>Where is the gentleman?</p> - -<p>He stands before you.</p> - -<p>Sir, I call Heaven to witness that my child was murdered. Her vital -functions were destroyed and poisoned by drugs of an inflammatory and -deadly property, which, rendering her insane, drove her to suicide, and -so brought on a death of double horror. This is no longer circumstance, -but proof: The in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_80">{80}</a></span>spection of the corpse, the deposition of the -surgeons, and, above all, the confession of the accomplice, bring it -home to the criminal, and would convict him of murder, could he be -brought to trial.</p> - -<p>What prevents it? Devereux demanded with voice and look so -horrow-struck, as seemed to indicate suspicion of the issue.</p> - -<p>His flight prevents it: his accusing conscience, which haunts him with -the dreadful recollection, that my poor Innocent, my virtuous child -withstood his gross desires, till to effect his brutal purposes he -villainously contrived to deprive her of her senses, and to the crime of -murder added that of violation.</p> - -<p>Name the villain, Devereux exclaimed.</p> - -<p>The minstrel rose from his seat, and, laying his hand upon his heart, in -a firm tone replied—David Ap Owen—my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_81">{81}</a></span> dead patron’s heir; and Heaven -so judge me as I speak the truth!</p> - -<p>Enough! said Devereux. I set off to-morrow.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VIII-a"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> -<i>John De Lancaster confers with his Grandfather upon the Purport of the -Letter, he had received from Lisbon.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Devereux had taken his departure from the cottage of the Minstrel, -following the steps of De Lancaster, as he led the way towards Kray -Castle, after long silence and much meditation, he thus addressed his -companion—The insult, which this outlawed villain has put upon my -family by audaciously attempting to ensnare my sister, calls on<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_82">{82}</a></span> me to -expose him in the most public manner, and he shall not escape the -disgrace he merits. My presence will be required without delay, and as I -can now see full cause why you should be as deeply interested to rescue -your father from his engagement as I am to save my sister from all -chance of so horrible a connection, what prevents our setting off -together? I cannot promise you a reception so noble and so elegant as -you give me, for we have no Kray Castles in Portugal, but a sincere and -cordial welcome I can truly assure you of. You will find comforts at -least with us, that are not every where to be met with in that country.</p> - -<p>John was about to make answer, when being now near the castle, they were -met by Cecilia and Amelia, whom they joined, and of course nothing more -was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_83">{83}</a></span> said upon the subject in their company.</p> - -<p>There could be no doubt in the mind of young De Lancaster as to the -necessity he was under of communicating to his grandfather the letter he -had received from Lisbon, and he resolved to do it in the first instance -without consulting even his friend Edward Wilson.</p> - -<p>He found the good man alone in his library, and immediately began by -requesting him to give order that they should not be interrupted, as he -had something of a private nature to impart to him. This was soon done, -and John, having briefly stated the purport of the letter, delivered it -to his grandfather. It required all the philosophy of old De Lancaster -to restrain his anger and astonishment within any bounds—Is this -disgrace, he cried, to fall upon my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_84">{84}</a></span> name and family? It must not be; it -shall not.</p> - -<p>You will suffer me then, said John, to go over and prevent it. You see, -my dear sir, I am called upon by my father: it is my duty to obey him: -he is in distress, and expects me.</p> - -<p>Let him expect. ’Tis the sluggard’s fate to expect. Am I to sacrifice -the beloved of my heart; am I to extinguish the last spark of my hope, -the only relique of my ancient family, to redeem a coward from his -ignominious bond!</p> - -<p>If my unhappy father is a coward, the youth replied, and reddened as he -spake, let me at least convince the world, that the disgrace stops at -me, and that there is but one coward in existence, that bears the name -of De Lancaster.</p> - -<p>I’ll go myself: I am his father; the disgrace is mine.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_85">{85}</a></span></p> - -<p>Sir!—exclaimed the youth—You’ll go yourself?—You, you to Portugal? -Forbid it, Heaven! my aunt, myself, your whole united family and friends -will be upon our knees to turn your mind from such a desperate thought. -What can be the objection to my going? where is the danger? what have I -to fear? you won’t suppose that I would condescend to turn out with that -outlaw, that convicted murderer, who dare not set his foot on British -land: and if you think, that I could need protection, I have it in the -family of Devereux; nay, Devereux himself solicits to go with me; for he -has business not less urgent than mine is to adjust with that wretch, -who has had the effrontery to offer at a marriage with his sister. He -comes to England and goes back at once to save<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_86">{86}</a></span> his sister, and shall I -do less to save a father? If Devereux thinks his name dishonoured by -that vile connection, have I not equal right to be as zealous to rescue -yours from that nefarious bond, and the disgraceful marriage that hangs -to it?—De Lancaster paused: He turned an approving look upon his -grandson: his cheek flushed, and the tear glistened in his eyes—Your -reasoning is unanswerable, he cried; your motive most commendable, my -child! but alas! I am too old to accompany you, and whilst you -demonstrate to me, that I ought to part from you, you convince me that I -could not live without you, and show me all the danger and the dread of -losing you. Besides, it is not me alone, whom the parting from you will -make wretched: there are hearts as weak, as tender and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_87">{87}</a></span> as fond as -mine—Think of our dear Cecilia, of your aunt! what will you say to her? -what to Amelia?</p> - -<p>What I have said to you—To every one, that feels for my departure, my -honour and my duty form the plea, that I must urge for giving pain to -them, who are so dear to me: And surely, sir, there’s nothing so -alluring in the task, that I should covet it for other reasons, than -I’ve assigned to you. There must be something stronger than -self-indulgence, more imperious than the repugnance, which I feel at -heart, when I must force a sigh from you and them; and you of all men -living best can tell what that compulsion is—We must not be -dishonoured.</p> - -<p>You have said it, De Lancaster replied; and now, my dear John, before we -proceed any further I hold it right and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_88">{88}</a></span> proper to send for our friend -Edward Wilson, and let him read your father’s letter without saying any -thing on the subject to bias his opinion. We shall then have his -sentiments upon the matter, and either be confirmed in our own judgment, -or perhaps hear from him what may induce us to reconsider it.</p> - -<p>To this John of course most readily assented, and the message instantly -produced the man. De Lancaster put the letter into his hand, simply -desiring him to read it. Edward’s expressive countenance, whilst -perusing the contents, bespoke his sovereign contempt of the writer, and -was such a comment on the text as no one could mistake—Wretched, -wretched man! he cried. This is a degradation and disgrace not to him -only, but to human nature. We may pity weakness; we may find some plea -in the con<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_89">{89}</a></span>struction of a man for want of spirit and of manly feelings; -but this is such an act as even folly would not own, insanity would -blush for. Ah venerable sir, is this your son? ah my beloved John, is -this your father? sorry I am to speak with such contempt of one so near -to those, whom I respect and love. Forgive me, my good sir, it is my -zeal for you my patron, and for this my pupil, that has betrayed me into -this intemperance—But I’ll offend no further. This only you will suffer -me to say—He is De Lancaster, and must be saved. By whom, you’ll ask: -by whom but by his son? nature demands it; duty calls him forth; honour -imperiously compels him to it. But whilst the sacred trust that I still -hold, the solemn obligation, that still binds me to this beloved youth, -whose life is dearer to me than my own,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_90">{90}</a></span> gives me authority to speak -thus freely, I must insist upon my right to say, that wheresoever duty -carries him, it carries me. I know his virtues, sir; I know his ardour: -those I have nourished; that I have repressed, and studied to confine -within due bounds. If John embarks upon this filial errand, I throw -these clerical equipments off, and embark with him as my father’s son, -the son of Colonel Wilson; and if you consent to part from him, no power -on earth, your own excepted, shall withhold me from him.</p> - -<p>Robert De Lancaster, who had kept his eyes fixed upon Wilson, whilst -thus descanting in a higher tone and with a vehemence, that till this -moment he never had given way to, now perceiving that he had brought his -speech to a conclusion, rose from his seat, and, taking<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_91">{91}</a></span> him by the -hand, with great emotion said—Edward, I now with gratitude acknowledge, -that Heaven in you hath raised me up a friend to be the comforter of my -old age, and the upholder of my family in the person of my grandson, -whose mind you have enlightened by your precepts, and whose life you are -resolute to guard by your fortitude and friendship. When you had said of -my unhappy son—<i>He is De Lancaster and must be saved</i>, you had said -all. John must obey his duty; he must go, and I resign him to you.</p> - -<p>Here he paused, for Colonel Wilson, entering the room, presented to him -his son Henry, now promoted to a majority of dragoons and under orders -to join his regiment. A finer person, and of more martial bearing, could -not greet the eyes<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_92">{92}</a></span> of man or woman. His address to the De Lancaster of -ancient days was noble and respectful in the extreme: his brother he -dismissed with that kind of soldierly embrace, which is warmly bestowed, -but quickly dispatched. To John he turned, and measuring him with his -eye from heel to head, as if he had been surveying a recruit, he -exclaimed—May I believe my eyes? can this be John De Lancaster, whom I -have the honour to address?</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now in the name of all the gods at once,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Upon what food hath this our Cæsar fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“That he is grown thus great?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Here’s a De Lancaster, that shows fair promise to be a man indeed. Sir, -I entreat you; give me your hand, and give me, what I have an hereditary -right to ask, your friendship with it!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_93">{93}</a></span></p> - -<p>There it is, said John: I give it cordially with both my hands, and hope -to have your friendship in return.</p> - -<p>This salutation being over, Henry Wilson addressed himself again to the -grandfather, and said—I felicitate you, honoured sir, upon this noble -scyon to your ancient stock. Look, if he does not over-top us all! -Edward and I are hardly fit to stand in the same file with him: we are -but summer soldiers: He may let the tempest blow, and bid defiance to -it.</p> - -<p>I hope so, old De Lancaster replied, for he may chance to hear the -tempest blow where he is going. John and your brother Edward are for -Lisbon.</p> - -<p>For Lisbon! cried the major; that is lucky: for Lisbon is my very -destination. If they are bound thither, and will let me join them, I -warrant I’ll keep<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_94">{94}</a></span> pace upon the march to the sea side, and when we land -at Lisbon, I’ll engage that they shall find a welcome from some as -worthy and as gallant fellows, as ever yet drew breath.</p> - -<p>Major, the good old man replied, I cannot tell you how I am delighted to -hear that you are going, who have served so long and with so much honour -in Portugal. You must be well acquainted with the country, and perhaps -may know a gentleman, who is returning with them to his friends at -Cintra, Devereux by name.</p> - -<p>Devereux of Cintra! Henry exclaimed. Who knows not him, that ever passed -but half a day at Lisbon? I know him well, and have good cause to know -and honour him for his noble entertainment of me and many of my -army-friends. Devereux is rich in money, richer still in a good name, -and happy<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_95">{95}</a></span> in a son, whom all men praise, and in a lovely daughter, whom -every body admires, but no one has presumption to address.</p> - -<p>Yes, there is one, De Lancaster replied, who is as full of presumption -as he is void of merit. He now detailed not only the affair, that -brought young Devereux over to England, but the business, that called -his grandson out of it; and as he did this circumstantially and -minutely, after his manner, the old Colonel also listened to the long -but interesting narrative, though not without frequent grunts and -growlings of displeasure against poor Philip; till when the story -closed—Heaven have mercy on us, he exclaimed, that any man alive will -let himself be scared out of his small wits by a knavish rascal, a -pettifogging bragadocio fellow, half Jew and half at<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_96">{96}</a></span>torney, and -forsooth because he comes with parchment and with pistol—’Sdeath, had I -been Philip, and six feet high as he is, I would have made the attorney -eat the parchment, and given the Jew the pistol for his breakfast: -’sblood, I would have laid the bond and baggage both upon the fire and -myself after them, or ever I would turn and nestle in a den with that -hyæna.</p> - -<p>Never fear that, good father, Henry cried; there is a way of dealing -with hyænas, that makes them wondrous tame. If we three, and young -Devereux fourth fellow, are not enough for Madam Rachel and her Jewish -kindred, I have at hand a batch of special pleaders, who, without judge -or jury, will soon settle her business by a process of their own.</p> - -<p>Come then, my friends, rejoined the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_97">{97}</a></span> good old man; let us dismiss the -subject for the present, and leave my grandson to discuss the point with -others of the family, who perhaps may scan this enterprize with more -alarm, than you, whose hearts no danger can appall. Our guest, young -Devereux, has been employed upon his letters; we’ll call him out, and -take a turn or two upon the terrace. The sun is pleasant, and though -mother nature begins to put her winter garments on, yet she looks -cheerful, and invites us forth.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_98">{98}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IX-a"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> -<i>Our Hero imparts to Amelia Jones his Purpose of setting off for -Portugal.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Mr. De Lancaster and the Wilsons had departed and left our hero -alone, his heart, which conversation and the flow of Major Wilson’s -spirits had upheld, now sunk within him, for it was not alone Cecilia’s -tender fears, Amelia’s sorrows threw a sadness over him. He knew that he -would find her with his aunt and Mrs. Jennings in their morning room; -but how to draw her from them and unburden his heart to her in private -was the question. He walked up to the gallery, with which their room -communicated, and in passing the door took care his steps upon the -dry-rubbed oaken floor should give a signal, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_99">{99}</a></span> might reach the ear -of his beloved; it being now about the time for them to take their usual -walk together.</p> - -<p>Hark! said Amelia; sure my ear deceives me, or that is Mr. John De -Lancaster, whom I hear in the gallery.</p> - -<p>I believe your ear is very correct, said Cecilia; it is my nephew’s -step; but go out, my dear, and see: perhaps he wishes you to walk with -him this fine day. Mrs. Jennings and I will finish what we are about, -and postpone our walk till by-and-bye.</p> - -<p>Amelia did not long delay to obey so pleasant an injunction. She sallied -from the room as quick as thought—I guessed that it was you, she cried, -as she went up to him, and held out her hand. Your aunt, who is all -kindness, sent me to you. If you like a walk, I am ready, ’Tis a -charming day.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_100">{100}</a></span></p> - -<p>Yes, and that voice is charming, he replied; that sweet inviting smile -enchants a heart, that fondly doats upon you: but we won’t walk, Amelia; -at least not yet; for I have news from Lisbon, from my father, not of a -pleasant sort I must confess: and if you will trust yourself with me in -this room, which is my study, and where nobody will interrupt us, I wish -to discourse with you upon it in private—They immediately entered the -room, and, being seated, John began as follows—</p> - -<p>Amelia, it is my unhappy lot to have a father, who brings shame upon me, -and seems to feel none for himself; in whom, with sorrow I am forced to -say, I cannot trace one spark of manly resolution, or the sense of what -becomes a gentleman to feel. You, on the contrary, amongst the many -excellencies<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_101">{101}</a></span> you possess, and I am wanting in, have the advantage also -to be born of parents, though now no more, of whom you may be justly -proud. Judge therefore, my Amelia, how incumbent it must be on me, whose -greatest ambition is to approve myself not quite unworthy of your -esteem, to support, as far as I am able, the credit of a name, which I -am presumptuous enough to hope you will one day condescend to share. My -father calls on me for my assistance; he conjures me to come and -extricate him from a disgraceful contract, fraudulent upon the face of -it, with those Ap Owens; which if I fail to do, he marries that detested -villain’s mother, insults the memory of your newly-buried friend, and -blasts a name, that never yet was stained.</p> - -<p>Married! she cried; your father, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_102">{102}</a></span> the son of that good man, whom -every one reveres, married so hastily, so rashly, so unworthily! It must -not be.</p> - -<p>True, my Amelia. Look upon this relick, which gives the image of your -gallant father, and to which your piety allots that envied station -nearest to your heart; then, tell me, what would that brave hero say, if -I, aspiring to his daughter’s love, should scruple to obey the call of -honour: Would he not bid me go and save a father?</p> - -<p>He was the friend, that upon such an errand would not have suffered you -to go forth alone.</p> - -<p>And such a friend I have in Edward Wilson; he is resolved to bear me -company. Devereux returns with me, and in his house I find a family of -friends: Nay, my good fortune seems resolved to give me a host of -friends, for Henry,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_103">{103}</a></span> our old Colonel’s eldest son, whom in himself I may -account a host, is now upon his way to join his regiment in Lisbon, and -goes with us. Thus am I trebly furnished with companions. What has my -dear Amelia now to fear, if thus befriended, thus accompanied, and -sanctioned not by the consent alone, but the command of my good -grandfather, I go where duty calls me? Now, my angel!—And, saying this, -he clasped her in his arms. Where can thy gentle spirit apprehend one -distant chance of danger to alarm it? What can my lovely, my betrothed -Amelia, oppose to the necessity, painful although it is, of a short -absence from her?</p> - -<p>Nothing; for the decree is absolute, and what am I but a devoted -creature whose heart is wholly your’s? Nothing remains for me to do, but -to return you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_104">{104}</a></span> my unbounded thanks for all your goodness, and especially -for condescending to impart these tidings, sad as they are, in this -considerate manner to me, who in your absence can expect to live but in -the hope that we shall meet again. I see, I know, I feel that we must -part.</p> - -<p>Here her voice failing for a while she seemed quite overcome by sorrow, -till her tears relieved her; and at length, turning a look upon her -anxious lover, that spoke a conscious dignity of mind, she rose and -said—I am ashamed of this unworthy weakness. I know I ought not to -bewail, but greet, the opportunity, that does you honour. To deserve a -hero I must not show the softness of a child—Come, let us walk. I feel -assurance of a happy issue. When you go forth upon the summons of a -helpless father, I trust that Providence will be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_105">{105}</a></span> your guard: It were a -sin to doubt it—This said, she gave her hand to him, and smiled: He -pressed it to his heart, and thus, endeared each to the other in the -purest sense of virtue’s chaste affection, forth they went—</p> - -<p class="figcenter"><img src="images/bar.png" -width="90" -alt="————" /></p> - -<p>I am ill at these descriptions: I confess it. Seventy years and seven, -with clouds that hang upon my setting sun, will chill the brain, that -should devise scenes and descriptions warm with youthful love. Still the -chaste maiden and the prudent wife shall turn these leaves with no -revolting hand, nor blush for having read them. The friend of man will -find no fault with me for having given a dark shade here and there upon -my canvass to set off and contrast the brighter tints<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_106">{106}</a></span> and nobler -attributes of human nature. Whether in novel, drama or in poem, I love -the mirror, that presents mankind in amiable lights; nor can I think -that frowns or wrinkles are a mark of wisdom; or that asperity becomes -the face of critic or philosopher.</p> - -<p>Whilst I write this, my grandson, a brave youth, of six years service in -the royal navy, born, as I vainly hoped, to grace my name, and -recompense the cares, that I bestowed upon his education, lies (as -’twere before me) dead and as yet unburied: Whilst I not only mourn his -loss, but feel his wrongs, of which the world must hear, if the appeal, -that he had made to justice, is cut short by his untimely death.</p> - -<p>Where then can a heart-wounded man, like me, find comfort but with that -beloved daughter, to whom I gave the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_107">{107}</a></span> memoirs of my life, and who still -lives to cheer its short remains? To her I dedicate this humble work; -for these repeated testimonies of my love, are all the inheritance I can -bequeath her, all my hard fortune hath not wrested from me.</p> - -<p class="fint">END OF THE FIRST BOOK.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_108">{108}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="BOOK_THE_SECOND"></a>BOOK THE SECOND.</h2> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_I-b"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<i>Morgan of Glen Morgan arrives at Kray Castle.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> preparations, requisite for John De Lancaster’s departure, -necessarily involved a delay of some two or three days, and every hand, -as well as every heart, was occupied in that interesting business. The -cheerfulness of Major Wilson kept up the spirits of the ladies, except -upon one occasion, when he launched out so vehemently in his description -of Miss Devereux’s charms, that, if he had not been so wholly taken up -with his subject, he might have discovered one countenance at least in -the circle of his hearers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_109">{109}</a></span> that was not much enlivened by his raptures.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon a messenger from Glen Morgan arrived with the following -letter addressed to Colonel Wilson—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Dear Colonel,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“My gout has left me, and if he never troubles me with his company -again, he has my free leave to keep away. I meditate to take -advantage of his absence, and pay a visit to my good brother at the -castle before his dinner hour to-morrow, <i>Deo volente</i>. I shall -bring my live-lumber Mother Richards in the coach with me, as her -small wits just serve her to descant with due precision upon warm -nightcaps and a well-aired bed: she will pester the poor folks in -the castle with her clack, but I shall profit by her care; and you -know there is not a more selfish<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_110">{110}</a></span> fellow living than your humble -servant. As my rascally passion for hoarding money has no longer -any object, since you won’t help me off with any of my savings, I -shall tack two more dog horses to my scurvy team, and come in state -like Sir Francis Wronghead, with Giles Joulter riding postillion: -the cattle will get a belly-full in De Lancaster’s stables, and -that is what they don’t often meet with in their own. I have bought -a flaming fine watch of a pedling Jew, which I dare say won’t go; -but it will do for Amelia Jones, if she behaves well, and does not -slight me for that puppy John, for whom I do not care a rush, as -you well know, having lived in solitude till I am unfit for -society, and as cold at heart as the top of a Welch mountain. I am -very glad my brother Lancaster has so much abated of his learned -dissertations,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_111">{111}</a></span> for I have no reading beyond that of a trumpery -story book, and am in as profound a state of blessed ignorance, as -any gentleman in Wales can boast of. Yet Robert surely is an -incomparable man; his honour is so nice, his nature so divine, that -I am almost ready to adore him till he talks Greek, and then it’s -over with me; I know no more of the matter than a blind man does of -colours.</p> - -<p>“Your son Edward is the very <i>beauty of holiness</i>: he not only does -faithful service to religion by the strong reasoning powers of his -mind, but renders it lovely by the gracefulness of his manners. My -spiritual pastor and teacher takes quite as much care of his own -body, as he does of my soul: he is silent at his meals, but loud in -talk and positive in argument, when he has satisfied his craving: -He can’t keep his temper at back<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_112">{112}</a></span>gammon, when the dice go against -him; yet if I ever slip out a hard word, as we soldiers are too apt -to do, he takes up their cause at once and sermonizes against -swearing. I don’t think this is quite fair; for he swallows his -oaths out of compliment to his cloth, and I from the habits of mine -make it a point of honour to say nothing behind a gentleman’s back -that I won’t say before his face. One day by chance he had not -dined with me, and I sent to him to come and read the evening -prayers to my crew of sinners as usual; for which, by the way, I -pay him an annual stipend: He sent for answer it was not his custom -to turn out after dinner; he has never had it in his power to make -that excuse again, and of course has regularly lulled dame Richards -and the old butler to sleep with his soporiferous homily as surely -as the even<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_113">{113}</a></span>ing comes. I do not think there is in existence a worse -enemy to edification than metheglin.</p> - -<p>“Lord have mercy on me, what a household of idlers do I keep! I -would make a total reform in my family, if I could flatter myself -that I should live to reap the benefit of it; but that is not upon -the chances, and I am such a lazy blockhead, so mere a caput -mortuum, that I let them work their own will, and am content to lie -at my length, like Sampson’s lion, for the bees to make honey in my -carcase.</p> - -<p>“You must be sure to lay me at the feet of the divine Cecilia; for, -if you don’t do it for me, I can’t do it for myself: I am quite as -inflexible as the wax-work in Fleet-street; attempt to bend me, and -I break asunder. I am absolutely good for nothing, and I dare say -the gout<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_114">{114}</a></span> only left me because there was no credit to be got by -killing me: That same <i>podagra</i> is a purse-proud sycophant, and if -he stoop to kiss your toe, were you the pope himself, he will make -you pay dear for the compliment.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you wonder why I write to you so long a letter—so do I; -but though it wearies you with nonsense, it winds up with a truth, -when I profess myself your cordial friend</p> - -<p class="c"> -and faithful servant<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">John Morgan</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>When this letter had been read to De Lancaster, joy brightened in his -hospitable countenance: his orders circulated through the Castle for all -things and all people to be put in order to pay proper honours to his -expected visitor. He commented with great good humour<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_115">{115}</a></span> upon some -passages in the letter, that seemed to strike his fancy—Though the good -man, he said, is so shy of what he calls my learned disquisitions, I -believe it is only a copy of his countenance, for in fact he is no mean -scholar; but we will muzzle the learned languages, and trust to nothing -but our mother tongue; so take notice, my good Colonel, you will incur -heavy penalties if you give us any of your heathen Greek, whilst my -brother Morgan is in the house.</p> - -<p>And if I do when he is out of it, replied the Colonel, I’ll give you -leave to hang me.</p> - -<p>The next morning when the sun turned out upon the mountain tops, so did -the whole Castle garrison from their sky-chambers on the turret tops, -and gave cheerful note of preparation—Not indeed by <i>the armourers -accomplishing the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_116">{116}</a></span> knights</i>, but by the warders and liverymen brushing -up their orange tawnies, and by the squeaking of the pigs and quacking -of ducks, that came unwillingly to be killed and roasted, whilst the -mute inhabitants of the waters resigned themselves to their fate without -a murmur.</p> - -<p>When the family assembled in the breakfast-room, the Colonel appeared in -his uniform, not quite in its first bloom, nor altogether in the last -cut of the fashion; whilst Major Wilson, bright as bullion could make -him, was perfectly caparisoned for court or camp. This ceremonious kind -of etiquette, now thought troublesome and thrown by as obsolete, was -understood by the family of Kray Castle as an acceptable attention to -the good old lord of the soil upon certain gala days, when he was -anxious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_117">{117}</a></span> to receive a visitor with particular respect.</p> - -<p>When the approach of Morgan of Glen Morgan was descried from the castle -windows, and the green and red liveries began to show their colours in -the sunbeams, the alarm bell sounded, the servants mustered in the -gothic hall, and David Williams seated himself on his tripod. Coaches -were not made, as they are now, to accommodate the horses that draw -them, but with due regard to the ease and safety of the company, who -were conveyed in them. Old Morgan of course made his landing good, and -found himself in the arms of his venerable host, surrounded by his -friends, all emulous to greet him with a welcome.</p> - -<p>As he leant upon the arms of De Lancaster and his grandson in his -passage through the hall, he stopped and looked about him—This is -wonderful, he cried;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_118">{118}</a></span> this is above hope, that I should find myself once -more under the protection of these hospitable lares. Alas, when I had -the honour of your company at Glen-Morgan, I little thought of making -any other visit but to the place, from which no traveller returns. -Providence has decreed it otherwise—Well, well, well! a man must have a -stubborn heart, that could not find some cause to be thankful, when a -blessing, such as I am now enjoying is vouchsafed to him. Take notice, -brother De Lancaster, I understand my own unworthiness too well to -intrude upon Heaven’s mercy with many petitions, but I hope I am not -altogether deficient in my thanksgivings. He then addressed himself to -some of the old domestics, as he passed them, and particularly to David -Williams, whom he greeted cordially and with much respect.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_119">{119}</a></span></p> - -<p>When he entered the drawing-room he turned to Cecilia and said—I now -consider myself within the territory and under the command of the most -amiable lady living. I shall add no grace to you, madam, as a courtier, -but as a subject none can be more loyal. In this manner he paid his -compliments round the circle, reserving his last and most affectionate -address for his grandson, who, having risen from his seat, whilst his -grandfather was speaking to him, when he had concluded, went up to him, -and bending his knee, took his hand to kiss it. The action was -irresistably affecting, and the old man fell upon his neck and wept. The -stillness and silence of the company whilst this was passing made the -scene more awful and impressive: At length the good old man, rallying -his spirits, thus addressed his grand<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_120">{120}</a></span>son—I know, my child, that you -are going out of England; therefore it is I am come to take my leave of -you; I also know your motive to be truly filial, and of course agree -entirely with your worthy grandfather in approving of your undertaking. -It is your duty, it is your point of honour, and you have no choice but -to obey. Being a selfish pitiful kind of fellow, perhaps I was a little -shaken, when I heard of it; so to put myself in heart again, I gave out -marching orders, and penned a pacquet to my old comrade the Colonel, in -which I did not treat him with one word of common sense. Now therefore, -John, I am come for other purposes than to whine and whimper, because -forsooth you are going to make a short excursion in good and gallant -company, where I wish I was going with you: but as I can’t do<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_121">{121}</a></span> that, I -come to see you and your comrades start, and after you are gone drink to -your good voyage in a glass of old Madeira, and perhaps if my good -friend here is not tired of my dull company, I may intrude upon his -hospitality, and wait till you return.</p> - -<p>Say you so? cried De Lancaster: then I pronounce you to be the kindest -friend and the noblest ancient Briton, that draws the breath of life on -this side of the Wye—Now tell old David to strike up a welcome in his -best bravura.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_122">{122}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_II-b"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<i>Treats of what passed at Kray Castle in the Evening of the Day before -John De Lancaster’s Departure.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> dinner was not only elegant but sumptuous. Sir Arthur Floyd and two -or three more neighbours of respectability had dropped in most -opportunely to complete the party and divert the conversation from -domestic topics.</p> - -<p>When the ladies had retired, and the glass gone gaily round, Morgan -desired to be heard upon a matter of some consequence. Gentlemen, he -said, I reside as you well know, in the near neighbourhood of Denbigh, -and I have had notice given me by the corporation of that borough, that -their worthy representative is at the point of death. I never cultivated -any interest there, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_123">{123}</a></span> have no great property either in or about the -place. Nevertheless in their free good will to me, (though for what one -merit on my part they bear me that good will neither they nor I can -guess) they offer to elect the friend, whom I shall recommend. They wish -my grandson De Lancaster was of age to represent them, as they hold him -high in honour for the generous part he took in poor Ap Rees’s -melancholy case. I thanked them, but had nobody in my view. As they were -anxious to mark their abhorrence of a certain young baronet, who had -been soliciting their support, this answer of mine did not satisfy them, -but they would needs have me refer myself to my brother-in-law Mr. De -Lancaster, now in the chair beside me; which of course I promised to do, -and now fulfil my word. This I stated to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_124">{124}</a></span> him in a few words before -dinner, and had his permission to call upon him, as I now do, for his -answer.</p> - -<p>I have not a moment’s hesitation, De Lancaster replied, what to answer; -for in the person of my friend Sir Arthur Floyd, luckily here present, I -recognize every quality, that can constitute a character at all points -worthy of their choice—an active magistrate, an honourable gentleman, a -loyal subject, an able incorrupt and independent senator.</p> - -<p>Before the baronet could reply, a joyous shout from our young hero John, -followed by a general plaudit of hands, seemed to leave Sir Arthur -without the power of recollection, or the privilege of choice.</p> - -<p>At length he rose, and, after bowing to Mr. De Lancaster and the -company, he said—I have occasion to know, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_125">{125}</a></span> the unworthy nephew, -(with whose name I will not stain my lips) of a worthy baronet lately -deceased, had pointed his ambition and directed all his resources to the -attainment of this object, now so unexpectedly and beyond my hopes -proposed to me, and seconded by an applause, that must ever follow what -that gentleman says, even when he deigns to take so humble an individual -as myself for his subject. But as I have hitherto been known as of the -party and politics of that person before alluded to, now become so -abandoned and so despicable, I will on no account accept the support of -any one voter for the borough of Denbigh, until it is clearly and -distinctly ascertained in the most public manner, that I offer myself -upon principles directly opposite to those of that expatriated villain, -(I can call him nothing less,) and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_126">{126}</a></span> that I put my honour and my pledge -into the hands of Mr. De Lancaster, as my friend, my sponsor and my -patron.</p> - -<p>This handsome declaration produced a second and a louder applause, and -that called up Sir Arthur Floyd once more from his seat to return his -thanks to the company and at the same time to remind them of their duty -to the ladies, humbly proposing, with Mr. De Lancaster’s permission, an -adjournment to the drawing-room: upon which gallant and well-timed -appeal, the company with prompt obedience rose, and left the table.</p> - -<p>This was the time when every one was solicitous to approach and pay -their homage to Cecilia De Lancaster; here, like Cato’s daughter, she -presided—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Whilst winning mildness and attractive smiles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Dwelt in her eyes, and with becoming grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Softened the rigor of her father’s virtue—”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_127">{127}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p>On one side of her sate the sage preceptress of the young and blooming -Amelia, who, on the other side, assisted in the elegant ministration of -those lady-like offices, which it was not then the custom to transfer to -a domestic. The refreshments of the tea-table came recommended to our -lips from the fair hands of the lady president, who delicately -distinguished every person’s right, and without confusion of property -guarded his exclusive cup, and faithfully returned it to the owner: Now -some snuffy hectick house-keeper huddles all together, and -indiscriminately serves out the messes, hot or cold, strong or weak, as -chance directs, to be handed round the room for those, who chuse to try -their luck in a lottery of hot water, very little better than poor -Timon’s dinner to his disappointed parasites.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_128">{128}</a></span></p> - -<p>As soon as this ceremony was over the folding doors of the drawing-room -were thrown open, and David Williams, led by his son bearing his harp, -and in his habit of office, entered and took the post prepared for him: -he paused and reached out his hand to the seat beside him, as if waiting -for some one else. When immediately old Robin Ap Rees in a mourning vest -with black crape sleeves to the elbows only, and bound about his waist -with a sash of the same stuff, but without medal, or any professional -badge, that could mark him as the bard of the Ap Owens, approached and -made a profound obeisance in the door-way. Upon his appearing every -heart was touched: his tall spare figure, drooping head and shrivelled -arms, with the pale hue of his woe-stricken visage, might have softened -the iron heart<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_129">{129}</a></span> of Gallia’s savage tyrant; can we then wonder if the -generous bosoms of those assembled felt that soft impression, which -Nature’s poet terms <i>the every dint of pity</i>?</p> - -<p>John, who alone was in the secret of his coming, had whispered Amelia -and his aunt to prepare themselves for his appearance. He now rose, and -took the blind bard by the hand to lead him to his seat, when, upon his -grandfather beginning to speak, he stopped, and whilst Ap Rees turned -respectfully towards the voice that addressed him, Mr. De Lancaster -delivered himself as follows—</p> - -<p>My good old friend, and favourite of the Muse, to whom I am beholden for -so many tuneful hours, it is now with mixed sensations of satisfaction -and sorrow, that I greet you with a welcome, and as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_130">{130}</a></span>sure you that the -friendship and protection, which my grandson shows you, have my warmest -approbation and most cordial concurrence. Your worthiness, your genius, -your afflictions claim his compassionate regard and care. I take this -visit, that you pay us on the eve of his departure, as a tribute of your -esteem, which I am persuaded has cost you some painful efforts to pay, -and which I am not less satisfied is considered and appretiated by him -as it ought to be. I see you have brought your harp, and my minstrel -David Williams, who honours and admires you, will gladly either take a -part with you, where the strain allows of it, or listen to you with -delight, if you rather wish to treat us with some melody of your own.</p> - -<p>Respected sir, Ap Rees replied, my natural wish would be to edify in -silence,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_131">{131}</a></span> whilst my superior (such I am conscious Mr. Williams is) -exhibited that excellence, which has no rival; in me at least that rival -is not found. But, Sir, there stands beside me one—would I could see -him!—an exalted being, endowed by nature with such blessed properties, -that, but to guess at what he wishes done and not to do it, would be in -me, who live upon his bounty, and may be said almost to breathe his air, -a sin of such ingratitude as yet no name is found for, and I hope no -instance ever will occur to put invention to that lamentable test. Your -grandson, Heaven preserve him, willed me to string my tuneless harp -afresh, and second Mr. Williams in a strain, melodiously adapted to the -words which he will chaunt.</p> - -<p>To this of course the assent was universal. The sightless brethren put -their<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_132">{132}</a></span> harps in time: Ap Rees enriched the strain with his harmonious -chords, whilst Williams led and sung, as here ensues—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Fearless of danger, I prepare to roam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er seas, whose angry billows rage and foam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An amulet there is, that guards my breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose power can charm the loudest storm to rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is the image of my darling maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An image by no mortal hand pourtray’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, the great master, grav’d it on my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, ere time mars it, life and I must part.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it for loss of me that I descry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That tearful cherub in my fair-one’s eye?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Believe it, Love, we part to meet again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And purchase years of bliss with hours of pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full well I know what title he must prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose hope aspires to gain an angel’s love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore I go, though fond affection pleads,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where duty warns me, and where honour leads.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell to all that’s good and all that’s dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vice hath no pow’r that Virtue ought to fear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Link’d to my home, whatever course I take,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chain may lengthen, but can never break.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_133">{133}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p>If our hero John was, as I suspect, the author of these lines, it is -plain he was more in love with his mistress, than his muse was with her -poet: But young men are very apt to scratch, when the itch of scribbling -is upon them.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_III-b"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<i>Our Hero takes his Departure from Kray Castle.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Amelia</span>, who had counted every hour during a sleepless melancholy night, -rose with the break of day, and light of foot, though with a heavy -heart, flitted along the gallery in the dusk, and gently tapping at the -chamber door, where John and she had mutually agreed to pass a parting -hour, was instantly admitted by her lover, accoutered for his journey.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_134">{134}</a></span></p> - -<p>Of this scene I must decline to attempt a description. I could say -nothing new to such of my readers, who know by experience how -exquisitely pure those feelings are, which virtuous love inspires; and -on such, as have not that experience, my labour would be lost. In short -it was an interview between two young persons, firmly affianced and -fondly attached to each other, and how delicately that must pass, which -honour conducts on one part, and innocence on the other, there needs no -ghost to tell us.</p> - -<p>In the breakfast-room the whole family were assembled. In the -countenances of the several parties any man of common sagacity might -have read the several feelings. Old De Lancaster struggled hard to -maintain a firm and dignified tranquillity, and if he did at any<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_135">{135}</a></span> time -betray symptoms of occasional embarrassment, it was only to show that -his philosophy did not absolutely desert him. The person, whose thoughts -seemed to be most disengaged, was the gallant Major, who just then had -the most to do; for the ordering and arranging of the whole cavalcade -had been assigned over to him, and the alacrity, with which he executed -his authority over men, horses and carriages, left him no time for those -tender sentiments and concerns, that seemed to occupy every body else. -Life and spirit animated him; silence and sadness dwelt on all the rest.</p> - -<p>Here was an opportunity for an orator to avail himself of, and an -audience to his heart’s content most happily disposed to hear him: but -Mr. De Lancaster let it go by for reasons no doubt best known to -himself. He did indeed take occa<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_136">{136}</a></span>sion to impart a few words to Edward -Wilson when he came into the room; but they were only for his private -ear. The ladies kept their station in the back ground, and as much out -of sight as they could contrive. Devereux had very sensibly committed -his adieus to paper, and left them in the hands of Mr. De Lancaster’s -servant to be delivered to him at his better leisure. At length Major -Wilson in a sprightly tone announced all ready; Devereux’s travelling -coach was first at the door, and appointed to lead; himself with John -and the two Wilsons were by the major’s order billeted upon it; our hero -halted a few minutes, after his companions had taken leave, to bid -farewell to the beloved objects of his duty and affection; after which, -having presented himself at the door of the coach, where his three -friends<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_137">{137}</a></span> were already seated, he made his parting acknowledgments to the -crowd, who were invoking blessings in his behalf; and passed the outward -gate of the castle with those sensations and in that kind of triumph, -which only virtue can deserve, and gratitude alone bestow.</p> - -<p>When Colonel Wilson, who had gone to the hall-door with his sons, -returned to the breakfast-room, the ladies had departed, and he found -the two grandfathers left in silent sadness to themselves. De Lancaster -was in a meditative posture, with his elbow rested on the arm of his -chair, and his head reclined upon his hand. Poor old Morgan was wetting -a crust of bread with his tears, whilst he was mumbling it with his -teeth. When he had pretty nearly settled the controversy between -swallowing, coughing and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_138">{138}</a></span> choaking, he turned a look upon Wilson, and -said—</p> - -<p>Brother soldier, there is nothing in this world, for which I so much -envy you as for that piece of wood, that you wear as a supplement to -your composition, and is one part of you at least, which is totally -devoid of feeling. I always knew you were what we call heart of oak, but -I did not till now know that you had an oaken heart. Look at me. Did you -ever see such a blubbering beast as I have made of myself? By the life -of me, Wilson, you are a fine gay fellow, and can have neither water in -your head, nor water at your heart, else methinks you would have pumped -up some of it upon this occasion. May I perish, if I don’t suspect you -have got an hydrophobia in your eyes: at least, I am sure<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_139">{139}</a></span> you will -never die of Niobe’s disease—all tears.</p> - -<p>I hope not, Colonel Wilson replied; yet to such tears as you shed I -cannot object, forasmuch as they convince me I was not mistaken, when I -set you down as a very tender-hearted man, though you was pleased to -represent yourself as something without any heart at all. When I now -find you weeping without cause; what would you do, if you had cause? -Why, man, you would drown yourself in tears. Old fellows like me rarely -out-live old habits, let them live as long as they may. I have been a -poor soldier at the command of other people, and bandied up and down, -all my life long. If I had wit enough to understand my duty, I never -wanted will to undertake it; in this light I look upon this trip of your -grandson’s as a call of duty<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_140">{140}</a></span> made upon him by his father, who according -to the laws of nature is properly his commanding officer, though Heaven -know he is as little proper for a command as any non-effective officer -can be, though you rummaged the whole shelf to search for him. And now -give me leave, my good friend, to ask you, whether you lament over his -absence because he is out upon his duty, or because he can’t go there -and stay here at one and the same time. Convince me only that he went -away from us when he might honourably have staid at home, and I will own -you have good reason to lament his absence. In the mean time I confess -to you that I do not conceive our dear John De Lancaster to be more in -the way of danger upon this expedition, and with those friends, than he -would be on his horse’s back on a chace after a paltry fox, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_141">{141}</a></span> it is -no part of his duty to pursue, nor any proof of his merit to overtake.</p> - -<p>Whilst the Colonel had been thus haranguing, Mr. De Lancaster had -shifted his meditative posture, and paid attention to what was passing: -He now took up the argument, and replied—Enough said, my good Colonel, -enough said! You have a right to argue for duty, having yourself -uniformly obeyed and fulfilled it, as an officer and a gentleman. My -brother Morgan does not want to be convinced that his grandson is gone -upon an honourable errand; but you are well aware, that the painful and -enfeebling illness, with which he has been visited, will naturally shake -even the firmest and the bravest spirit.</p> - -<p>In my own particular I am not a man prone to shed tears: If I were, I -confess to you, Colonel Wilson, I should be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_142">{142}</a></span> sooner thrown into the -melting mood by the contemplation of a generous act, or noble sentiment, -than by the pathos of a tragedy, or the pity-moving lamentations of a -desponding lover, or a whining mendicant.</p> - -<p>A servant now delivered the letter Devereux had left for Mr. De -Lancaster, who read as follows.—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Sir,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“The hospitality and kindness I have experienced at Kray-Castle -have made an impression on my mind, that can never be obliterated. -The purposes of my coming to England have been completely obtained, -and I am now returning to my family fully armed with evidence, not -only to rescue them from any chance of a disgraceful connection, -but also prepared to co-operate with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_143">{143}</a></span> your amiable grandson and his -friends in their measures for averting the like disgrace from you -and your respectable and ancient house. Believe me, Sir, this will -be a task, that can involve no representative of your’s in either -difficulty or danger; for I can confidently assure you that upon my -father’s statement of the case to the minister of Portugal, that -court will not permit a fugitive from the laws of his country, more -especially a British subject, to avail himself of its protection -for escaping with impunity; much less will it be allowed him to -enforce a bond illegally obtained for purposes the most -inadmissible and outrageously unfair.</p> - -<p>“As I have sent letters to announce our coming, I am sure my father -and friends will be on the shore to receive Mr. John De Lancaster -upon his landing, and will<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_144">{144}</a></span> immediately conduct him and his whole -party to our house in Lisbon, where no attention will be omitted, -that can mark their sensibility of the abundant favours I have -received from you and your’s, which must ever be remembered with -the utmost gratitude by him, who is with profound respect, Sir,</p> - -<p class="c"> -your much obliged and<br /> -most devoted servant,<br /> -<span class="smcap">George Frederick Devereux</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IV-b"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<i>Our Hero arrives at Lisbon. Is hospitably received by the Father of -young Devereux; accompanies him to his House: What there occurs is -related.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> must now attend upon the travellers, to whom no circumstance occurred -upon their journey worth relating, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_145">{145}</a></span> who, after an expeditious and -safe voyage, with fair wind and favourable weather, dropped anchor in -the Tagus, and were quickly visited by Mr. Devereux the father, who came -on board, whilst his barge and rowers, handsomely appointed, waited -alongside.</p> - -<p>Upon the first sight of this gentleman, John De Lancaster eagerly -enquired for his father, and why he did not come off from the shore: the -answer was that his situation just then did not admit of it.</p> - -<p>He is ill, said De Lancaster.</p> - -<p>Indeed he is far from well, rejoined the other.</p> - -<p>May I not go off to him directly?</p> - -<p>The officers of health are on board, said Mr. Devereux; but I have -obtained leave to bring you on shore directly: Your friends however and -servants must<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_146">{146}</a></span> put up with a short detention, till certain forms are -dispensed with. John De Lancaster, conducted by Mr. Devereux, -immediately went over the ship’s side, and the barge pushed off for the -landing-place.</p> - -<p>Tell me, I conjure you, sir, said our hero, the truth without reserve, -in what situation I am to find my father, and believe me, Mr. Devereux, -whatever that may be, though I have a heart to feel it as a son, I trust -I have a proper sense of my duty to meet the dispensation as I ought.</p> - -<p>Your father is not dead, Devereux replied, although I must not disguise -from you that his life is despaired of. He has been infamously treated, -and, as it is presumed, unfairly wounded, either by some hired assassin -or by Sir David Ap Owen, with whom the unhappy gentle<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_147">{147}</a></span>man, it seems, had -been induced to trust himself, and turn out alone to settle their -differences by a duel. This is all we can at present collect of an -affair, that has a very black appearance. Suspicion is strong against Ap -Owen, who has absconded, and the ministers of justice are sent out in -all directions after him. He is not yet discovered; and your poor -father, who is now attended by his surgeons in my house, I am sorry to -say, is in no capacity of giving us any information, his senses being -totally deranged.</p> - -<p>To this De Lancaster for a few minutes was in no condition to make -answer, but put up his hand to his eyes, and suffered grief to overpower -him. The barge now approached the landing place, where Devereux’s -carriage was in waiting. Our hero rallied his spirits, land<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_148">{148}</a></span>ed from the -barge with an assumed composure, took his seat in the coach, and soon -found himself at the door of a magnificent house in the great square, -that opens to the river.</p> - -<p>Ushered by his friendly host through a noble hall, John De Lancaster -ascended the stairs, and cautiously entered the chamber, where his -father was lying on a couch, at the side of which a young lady was -standing, who made a sign for him to stop. It was the daughter of Mr. -Devereux, and by the faint light, that was admitted into the chamber, -the elegance of her form struck on the instant with such a resemblance -to the image ever present to his mind, that in the agitation of the -moment the words involuntarily escaped him in a murmur loud enough for -her to hear—Heaven defend me, is it my Amelia, or some sis<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_149">{149}</a></span>ter angel, -that I see?—Alas, she said, ’twould be an angel’s office to afford you -comfort; for human help I fear is all in vain—He bowed, and approached -the couch.</p> - -<p>A death-like insensibility, though not death itself, seemed to have -locked up all the vital powers of the unhappy object, which to behold, -now chilled the filial heart of our afflicted hero. He took his father’s -hand, and turning to the lady by his side—It is not absolutely cold, he -said, nor is his pulse quite gone. If I could waken him from this morbid -trance, and get him once to turn his eyes upon me, I think that he would -know me.</p> - -<p>Try it, she said; and speak to him. Perhaps your voice may rouse him: -Our’s have no effect.</p> - -<p>Father! he cried, my father, do you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_150">{150}</a></span> hear me? I am your son. I am come -to visit you; to comfort you, to avenge you. Look on me; recollect me! -it is I; ’tis John De Lancaster, who speaks to you.</p> - -<p>The filial voice awakened him; the animating call stayed the emancipated -spirit, even in the act of parting on its flight, and Death, at Nature’s -privileged appeal still to be heard, forbore to stop the pulses of the -heart, and gave the reinstated senses once more use of their suspended -functions.</p> - -<p>When Maria Devereux saw this, she exclaimed—He lives; he stirs! Let in -more light, that he may see his son.</p> - -<p>The dying father had now unclosed his eyes, and the wild ghastly stare, -with which at first he fixed them on his son, as his mind gained its -recollecting power, softened, and by degrees assumed a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_151">{151}</a></span> look, indicative -of that intelligence, that gleam of satisfaction and delight, which in -his mercy God sometimes vouchsafes, when he releases his afflicted -creatures, and calls them to his peace from persecution and a world of -woe.</p> - -<p>At length a voice, yet audible, exclaimed—My son, my son! I see you, -hear you: You are come to close your father’s eyes—May Heaven reward -you for it! Ah John, John, I am murdered, basely murdered.—Here he -checked, and straggled hard for words. At length he faintly cried, Reach -me a cordial; let me wet my throat, and I’ll relate it to you.</p> - -<p>Maria, who stood ready on the watch, quickly presented him the cordial -draught. He made signs to be raised up in his couch: It was providently -so constructed as to effect what he wished for without disturbance of -his person, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_152">{152}</a></span> alteration of his posture. The fair hand, that brought -it, lifted it to his lips; (it is to female feeling and compassion that -we must look for offices like these in our last moments.) Philip felt -the kindness—Bless you! he cried, and drank what she bestowed to the -last drop: the comfort, that it gave him, was immediate: his eyes, which -now he turned upon his son, appeared to brighten, and he thus addressed -him—</p> - -<p>Oh! now I see you clearly and distinctly: now I perceive that power is -mercifully granted me to recollect and tell you my sad story. I will be -brief however, for I feel that this reprieve is only for a time: Now -listen therefore, and record my words—When that Ap-Owen, that atrocious -villain, heard you were coming over, he called upon me, and with furious -threats demanded of me<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_153">{153}</a></span> instantly to wed the base-born woman, whom he -calls his mother, or satisfy the bond. ’Twas then, though much too late, -I recollected what was due from a De Lancaster, and shortly told him -that his threats were vain; I would do neither: I abhorred a duel, as he -well knew, but I would sooner die than stain my name, and stoop to such -extortion and disgrace. He raved; he swore, and foamed like one -possessed: he sprung upon me, and aimed to seize my throat; I grappled -with him, and hurled him on the floor. He rose, and drew his sword; I -had drawn mine the whilst in my defence, and my blood boiled within me. -Coward, I cried, assassin, I defy you! Here, or elsewhere, I am ready on -the moment.—Then follow me, he said, and in a spot, where I’ll conduct -you, not two furlongs off, we’ll settle our dispute.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_154">{154}</a></span> I followed him, -unthinking as I was; for he had galled me past my power to bear; and in -a grove, as I was entering it, some one from behind gave me a blow, that -felled me to the ground: There as I lay, but not deprived of sense, the -inhuman monster, the unmanly coward, rushed on me as I was in act to -rise; and thrust me through the body with his sword: he fled, and left -the murderous weapon in me: I bled profusely; could not call for help, -nor raise myself from off the ground; I fainted, and thenceforward -cannot account how time has passed, till now that I revive to see you -and that beauteous form, that sweet benevolence, that gave me drink; and -I suppose, is she, whom my dead wife wished you to marry; and, if you -are married, may Heaven confirm my blessing on you both.—Ah, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_155">{155}</a></span> relapse -again; all, all is past—farewell for ever.—</p> - -<p>This said, his head collapsed upon his shoulder; his eye-lids dropped; -he strove convulsively to grasp the clothes that were upon him; his -bosom heaved as if about to burst, and one deep sigh, the last he drew, -released his struggling spirit, and left him outstretched at his utmost -length, a lifeless corpse.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_V-b"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<i>A further Account of what occurred at Lisbon after John De Lancaster’s -Arrival at that Place.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Such</span> was the melancholy end of Philip, son of old De Lancaster, and -father of our hero. Heaven endowed him with moderate faculties, and -indolence con<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_156">{156}</a></span>spired to make that little less. The place, which he left -vacant in the list of the De Lancasters from earliest time, was scarcely -less a chasm whilst he lived, than now when he was dead. Yet weak and -dormant as his spirit was, repeated aggravations from Ap Owen roused him -at last, and in the moment of his unguarded courage he fell into an -artful villain’s snare and was destroyed.</p> - -<p>The memoirs of poor Philip’s life would hardly fill a page; but the -reflections, that might be deduced from his untimely death would be a -lesson of useful warning to those listless idlers, those noneffectives -in creation’s roll, who seem destined to live for no worthier purpose, -except to turn that vital air to waste, which might have fed the lungs -of nobler beings, who either patiently employ their hours over the -midnight lamp<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_157">{157}</a></span> in learned toil; or, by their country called to -unwholesome climes, where the extremes of heat or cold are fatal, go -forth and die by thousands.</p> - -<p>Still nature pleaded to the filial heart of John De Lancaster—That -mangled corpse, on which you look, gave life to you, and was your -father—Keenly he felt the appeal, and, whilst his eyes dwelt on the -piteous object, the big tears rolled down his cheeks: nor could he quite -abstain from exclamation, or keep his fiery spirit in command, whilst -the last words his dying father uttered still sounded in his -ears—Never, he cried, bear witness for me, Nature! will I revisit my -beloved home, till I have obtained, or executed, justice on the villain, -the out-lawed enemy of God and man, who did this murderous deed. This is -the second corpse, that he has made, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_158">{158}</a></span> sent the immortal spirit to -arraign him at Heaven’s tribunal. Dreadful wretch, what must the torment -of his conscience be.</p> - -<p>Whilst these or words like these, burst from his lips, as still he -stood, alone, contemplating the dismal scene, Edward, the younger -Wilson, came behind him, and embracing him, whilst he spake—Bear up, he -cried: remember God allows these trials to improve and exercise our -virtue: every sorrow, that may fall on us by his dispensation, may be -converted to our use and profit. And now, if what I say required a proof -how prompt his justice is, I have it for you—The criminal is seized and -in your hands—Aye! that is right: address your praise to Heaven! there -fix your thoughts, and cease to mourn for him, whose cause is heard, -whose injuries are redressed<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_159">{159}</a></span>—But you shall have the matter as it -passed.</p> - -<p>After you left the ship Devereux obtained intelligence that Owen had -been traced, and was suspected to have got on board a certain vessel, -which he pointed out, then lying near us, bound to the Western Isles, -and ready for a start. The man, who told him this, came from the shore, -and was apprised, that orders had been out to search for him, and seize -him on suspicion of murder. Upon this information instantly Devereux -with Henry and myself, well armed, took to the boat (the master of the -pacquet freely granting it) and in a few minutes, claiming our right of -search, we were admitted; and rushing to the cabin, there discovered -Owen, who, though disguised in the apparel of a common sailor, made no -attempt to con<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_160">{160}</a></span>tradict our charge, such was his terror on the sight of -us, and his surprise exceeding all description. We told him that our -errand was to seize him—What had he done?—What you must answer for -with your life, we replied. Murdered a noble gentleman, your countryman, -your friend, Philip De Lancaster.—Is he then dead? he cried, and -started with horror, trembling and ghastly pale.—Two or three of the -by-standers instantly exclaimed—He’s guilty, he confesses it: Away with -him! He sunk down on his chair, and hid his eyes. My brother now -addressed him by his name, and said—Sir David Owen, you must come with -us. The laws demand you. You know both who I am, and what I am: A Major -in the King of England’s army serving in Portugal; and in the right of -that commission I arrest you as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_161">{161}</a></span> his subject, on the charge of murder; -and I am sure, none in this vessel will attempt to stop me in the due -execution of my duty.</p> - -<p>None, cried the Captain; pass! Let all stand clear! ’Twas then we saw, -in the behaviour of that wretched man, how abject guilt can be: That -insolence, which I have witnessed, now was sunk into despondency, and -but that pity would in me have been almost a crime, I could have pitied -him, when in a melancholy tone, he said—I am your prisoner. Misery -beyond mine, man cannot suffer. You have known me, Major Wilson, in -better days: I am a gentleman; at least I have been such: Don’t let your -people use me ill, I pray you—He was at this time in so helpless a -state, that we were obliged to have him lifted into the boat. Henry -gave<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_162">{162}</a></span> orders to be rowed to the shore: A considerable party of his -officers and men were there discovered waiting for his landing: When we -approached, they cheered him, and as soon as he had set his foot on -shore, the air again rang with their shouts—Comrades! he cried, as they -were crowding round us, you will stifle us with your kindness: Form a -circle, and give us air; don’t you perceive the prisoner is fainting? He -caused his soldiers instantly to make a kind of military litter by -taking hands, and in this manner they bore off the wretched criminal by -his order to the guard-house. Whilst this was passing I had taken notice -of an officer in the same uniform with the others, who had separated -himself from his comrades, and stood apart from the circle, not -interfering, but much interested, as it seemed, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_163">{163}</a></span> what was going on. -When my brother had given orders for his men to take Ap Owen to the -guard-house, he called this young officer to him, and bade him take a -party with him to Mr. Devereux’s house in the square, for the purpose of -escorting us through the streets, where a crowd was now collecting. This -young gentleman is now on guard upon the house, waiting till my brother -shall come, and dismiss him: Mr. Devereux invited him to accept of some -refreshment; but he declined it on the plea of duty to the special -orders of his commanding officer.</p> - -<p>Here Edward Wilson concluded his narrative, and John De Lancaster, who -had heard him with the most profound attention, now took his hand, and -pressing it to his bosom—Worthiest and best of men, he said, I see with -humblest thankfulness the hand of Heaven in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_164">{164}</a></span> these events, which you -have faithfully related to me; for, wonderful although they are, yet I -am sure nothing but truth can issue from your lips. The cause no longer -is with me; nor ought I to indulge a fruitless grief, much less an angry -and revengeful spirit. ’Tis henceforth only these unburied reliques, -this breathless piece of clay that I must guard. But in that duty I must -be alert, for decency requires, that with our quickest forecast and -dispatch we must provide for this corruptible, and take such instant -means, as may secure it from these melting heats till our departure: In -the mean time we must look out to find a proper house, respectably -appointed for the purpose of paying all those honours to the dead, which -must not be omitted on my part.</p> - -<p>Having said this, he declared himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_165">{165}</a></span> ready and sufficiently composed -to pay his respects to the family, which had so hospitably received him -and so highly merited his thanks for their benevolent attentions to the -unfortunate deceased.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the great stair-case, which landed in the hall, he was -met by Mr. Devereux and his son, who ushered him into an elegant and -spacious room: Here he had an opportunity of returning his -acknowledgements to the amiable and compassionate Maria in a better -manner, than he was in a capacity for doing, when she was present with -them, whilst his father expired.</p> - -<p>At her solicitation he drank some wine and partook of some refreshments; -and as the delicate consideration of his worthy host had allowed no -stranger to intrude unseasonably upon him, he found no other calls to -satisfy but those of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_166">{166}</a></span> gratitude, and whilst he saw a tender sympathy and -sweet benevolence in all around him, his spirits brightened, and his -youthful heart glowed with devotion, thankfulness and love of that pure -quality, that sacred character, which, springing up from earth, reaches -to heaven, and man partakes of in its way to God.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VI-b"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<i>There are Secrets in all Families.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> an hour thus passed had calmed our orphan hero’s agitated mind, a -word was given out at the hall door, and the centinels were heard to -salute, when immediately Major Wilson was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_167">{167}</a></span> announced, and young Devereux -hastened to give him welcome, and usher him into the room, where the -family were assembled. The gallant soldier entered, and was followed by -the officer who had received him at the door. In the act of paying his -devoirs to Maria Devereux, and in the manner of her receiving him, there -was an expression of surprise; and a certain instant change of -countenance on both sides, which probably did not escape the notice of -any one there present. It struck her father in particular so strongly, -that when the blood, that had rushed into, and overspread her -countenance, had now given place to an alarming paleness, he anxiously -enquired if she was not suddenly taken ill. She confessed being a little -sensible just then of the extraordinary heat upon letting in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_168">{168}</a></span> the -outward air from the door, but that she was quite as suddenly relieved, -and her looks soon testified to the truth, or, more properly speaking, -the plausibility of her excuse.</p> - -<p>The Major in the mean time was not wholly unembarrassed, neither did he -give the directest answers to the many speeches, compliments and -enquiries, that were successively addressed to him. As soon however as -he obtained a respite, anxious to turn the general attention to some -other object, than the lady, who had so lately engrossed it, he -addressed himself to the young officer, whom he had introduced, and in -an under-tone, that was not quite a whisper, said in his ear, familiarly -laying his hand upon his shoulders—Roberts, my dear boy, I would wish -you to step to the guard-house—The obedient subaltern<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_169">{169}</a></span> was instantly on -his legs—Nay, said the Major, I don’t want to hurry you out of this -company, to which, above all others, I should be most happy and most -proud to have you known, but I sincerely think it would be right for you -to visit a certain person there, who earnestly solicited to see you; and -being sure that what you ought to do you ever will do, I promised in -your name, that you should come. Go then, and tell the officer on duty, -you have my leave to be admitted to the prisoner under his charge—The -young man bowed respectfully, and asked if he had any further orders. -The Major upon referring to Mr. Devereux if he had any commands for the -party, having received for answer that he had none, said—Take off your -centinels; march them with your party to the barracks,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_170">{170}</a></span> and there -dismiss them—This was answered by a second military obeisance to his -commanding officer, and whilst Mr. Devereux was politely saying, that he -hoped to have a better opportunity of being known to him, he made his -acknowledgements with great respect, and departed.</p> - -<p>I should guess, said Edward Wilson, from what I observed of that very -interesting youth, that there is something in his mind of a melancholy -nature, that oppresses him.</p> - -<p>There is every thing in his mind, the Major replied, that does honour to -his feelings. You perhaps observed him stand aloof whilst we were busy -with the prisoner. That young man, by the death of his father Colonel -Roberts, is at this very time next heir to the entire estate of the -Ap-Owens under strict entail.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_171">{171}</a></span> Knowing this to be his situation, I -remarked the delicacy of his conduct with peculiar satisfaction, and I -also happen to know that he purchased into the regiment with money -supplied for that purpose by the unhappy man, whom he is gone to visit. -There was a trace of human kindness in that act, and therefore I record -it. There are packages and trunks belonging to the criminal, which we -brought ashore and have in safe keeping; these are most likely of -considerable value, and in the situation which this young man stands -towards the present owner of those effects, I think it right for his -sake that I should be present at the opening of them.</p> - -<p>With these words he rose to take his leave; Maria’s eyes followed him to -the door; the glance was not unobserved by him; he bowed to her, and -ha<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_172">{172}</a></span>ving beckoned to his brother, Edward instantly obeyed the signal, and -they passed the windows arm in arm hastening to overtake young Roberts -and his party.</p> - -<p>Well! cried the elder Devereux, that is indeed a soldier and a -gentleman. Never did I contemplate courage, honour and benevolence more -strongly charactered in the human form and countenance. I am enchanted -with Major Wilson, and I hope he will allow me to cultivate his -friendship.</p> - -<p>A nobler being does not breathe the air, De Lancaster exclaimed. He is -the true son of the best of fathers, and full brother to my best of -friends.</p> - -<p>He is the preserver of my life, Maria said, and the tears glistened in -her eyes, as she uttered it.</p> - -<p>Astonishment seized the father and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_173">{173}</a></span> the brother upon this sudden and -extraordinary declaration. De Lancaster started from his seat, and -offered to withdraw. The generous Maria immediately interposed to -prevent him—Stay, sir, I conjure you, she exclaimed, and as you must -have noticed my agitation upon seeing Major Wilson, I beg you will be -pleased to hear me state the circumstance that caused it.</p> - -<p>Right! cried the father, ’tis expected of you. Every thing that is -honourable, said the brother, may be expected from a character like -Major Wilson’s. I’ll pledge myself that nothing can be told of him, -which my sister may not repeat without a blush.</p> - -<p>I thank you for that handsome testimony, rejoined De Lancaster. Miss -Devereux has said, that my friend Wilson is the preserver of her life; -every body<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_174">{174}</a></span> of course, that has the honour to know her, must feel an -obligation to respect and honour him.</p> - -<p>You may recollect, said Maria, addressing herself to her father, when -Count La Lippe had his grand review at Cintra about this time last year, -you permitted me to be present at that brilliant spectacle: upon a -charge made by the cavalry my horse became unquiet, and, rearing, -dislodged me from my saddle, whilst, my foot being entangled in the -stirrup, rendered my situation that of the most imminent danger: in this -perilous moment, as I was in the very act of falling, I found myself in -the arms of an officer, who at the same time that he was supporting me, -found means by an extraordinary exertion to stop my horse, and rescue me -in the very instant, when my life would have been at the mercy<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_175">{175}</a></span> of the -terrified animal. When my alarm and agitation had so far subsided as to -enable me to speak, I did not fail, as you may well believe, to render -those acknowledgements and thanks, that were so justly due: I told the -stranger who I was, and that I had a father, who would be most anxious -to express to him his grateful sense of the service he had rendered to -me: perceiving him to be a British officer, I also besought him to -inform me by what name you, sir, were to discover and address the -preserver of my life. When I looked to him for his answer, he seemed to -be at that moment in even greater agitation than I was myself, and I had -reason to apprehend he had received some hurt by the violence of my -horse: he hastily replied, that he was to leave Lisbon the next morning, -and probably might not return to it again:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_176">{176}</a></span> after a short pause, -seemingly to recover breath, or perhaps from the effect of pain, he -added (and I well remember the very words he used, and the expressive -manner of his uttering them)—Alas, madam, I am a mere soldier of -fortune, and the only happy fortune, that has hitherto befallen me, is -this, which I now enjoy, of having rendered you some little service: -With the joy this gives me I am so abundantly rewarded, that I cannot -think of receiving any other acknowledgements, than those, which you -have honoured me with already—Whereupon, seeing my party come to me, -and that I was safe and unhurt, he apologized for the necessity of his -abrupt departure, and hastened to recover his charger and rejoin his -regiment. Judge now, my dear father, when I recognized my preserver in -the person of Major Wilson,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_177">{177}</a></span> whether I had not cause to be affected by -the conscious grateful sense of my unspeakable obligations to him.</p> - -<p>Surely, my beloved child, replied the father of the beautiful and -ingenuous Maria, you had just and ample cause for the sensibility of -your feelings on the sight of Major Wilson; and I and your brother, and -every one, that values and esteems you, are bound for ever to esteem and -value him. Had he been the poorest private in the army, I would have -made him affluent for life: it would have been my duty: But when I find -myself indebted for every thing that is dear and precious, to a man of -Major Wilson’s amiable and engaging character, what can I say less, in -the warmth of my paternal feelings, than that if he were to claim my -daughter herself as a recompence for my daughter’s life, I, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_178">{178}</a></span> far as -my authority extends, should have no scruple to confirm his title?</p> - -<p>Upon hearing these words, young Devereux eagerly started from his seat, -and in the enthusiasm of his friendship for Wilson, exclaimed—That is -nobly said! that, my dear father, that is like yourself: I second it -with my whole heart.</p> - -<p>What our delighted and approving hero felt, he properly and -considerately kept to himself, as far as his expressive countenance -would suffer him to conceal it; in the mean time, Maria (the sensitive -and interesting Maria) covered with blushes, and dissolving into tears -which had every grateful, every virtuous affection for their source, -took her father’s hand, tenderly pressed it to her lips, and hastened -out of the room.</p> - -<p>You have allowed me, Mr. Devereux,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_179">{179}</a></span> said our hero, to witness a domestic -scene, revealing secrets, which my honour never will permit me to -violate, and inspiring me with an admiration of your lovely daughter, -and a respect for you and my friend your son, which nothing can exceed.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VII-b"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<i>A Chapter, which disposes of one of the principal Characters in the -History, and concludes the second Book of the third and last Volume.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning early, as soon as John De Lancaster had risen and was -dressed, a note from Cornet Roberts signified, that he was waiting, and -requested leave to be admitted to him in private for a very few minutes. -This was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_180">{180}</a></span> instantly granted, and his visitor introduced the business he -was upon by premising, that it concerned a guilty but repentant object, -whom he was sensible it did not become him even to name in Mr. De -Lancaster’s hearing, unless he had his free permission so to do.</p> - -<p>Assure me only, said De Lancaster, that the person you allude to is -really penitent, and I shall then think it my duty to hear and attend to -any thing, you have to tell me of Sir David Ap Owen, or from Sir David.</p> - -<p>That he is truly penitent, replied Roberts, I most seriously believe, -and, as one proof of it, I have received from his hands this bond, which -with contrition he returns to you by mine.</p> - -<p>He considers himself as a dying man, and from what he hinted at -respecting his avoidance of a public execution, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_181">{181}</a></span> cannot but suspect -that he has taken means to intercept that punishment. I understand from -my kind friend Major Wilson, that you are apprised of my connection and -peculiar situation with respect to this unhappy man. I therefore flatter -myself you will not be displeased when I inform you, that I have here in -my hand a full confession, every word of which was dictated by him, and -signed in his own hand-writing with his name, of the dreadful crime, -which has made you fatherless, and also of another infamous proceeding -of a complicated nature, respecting a much-injured young woman, daughter -of his uncle’s bard Ap Rees, and now deceased. Under the dreadful -consciousness of these atrocious deeds he is now approaching to his last -hour. Condition more calamitous than this, is not in mortal man to -suffer<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_182">{182}</a></span> or conceive.—In a trunk, of which I have the key, there is a -considerable sum of money, raised and amassed by him before and since -his leaving England, as a resource I should suppose against events, -which he had reason to foresee and dread. Out of this money he has -directed me to purchase an annuity for the joint lives of the father and -brother of the poor girl, who was the victim of his cruel and flagitious -passions. Of his mother he speaks with bitterest abhorrence, accusing -her as the incendiary, who inflamed his animosity against you, and -spurred him on to the late horrid act to satisfy her malice and revenge. -She has thrown herself into the convent of Saint Barbara, and by a -letter I am charged with he solemnly adjures her to devote the remnant -of her days to repentance and atonement. This<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_183">{183}</a></span> sir, is the sum of what I -am commissioned to report to you, except the last most anxious wish of -his heart, a wish however, which he justly fears you cannot be induced -to grant, though he credits you for charity of the sublimest sort; -namely, that you would condescend to look upon him in his extreme -distress, and suffer him to humble himself before you, though despairing -of forgiveness.</p> - -<p>Sir, replied De Lancaster, with the lessons and example of our Heavenly -Master ever before me, it is not in my heart, wounded although it be, to -turn away from this repentant criminal, and not comply with his request, -however painful it must be to grant it. Tell him I’ll come to him within -this hour; nay, if you rather wish it, I am ready at this very minute to -go with you. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_184">{184}</a></span> what you conjecture may be true; and, if it be, no -time is to be lost.</p> - -<p>This said, the generous youth, without a moment’s loss, took his visitor -by the arm, and with a ready mind, prepared for every trial, hastened to -the melancholy abode, where, upon giving in his name to the officer upon -guard, he was admitted to the wretch, who had been his unrelenting enemy -through life, and had at length completed the full measure of his malice -and atrocity by the murder of his father.</p> - -<p>Upon entering the room, John De Lancaster had no sooner come within the -centinels, than he stopped, and, addressing himself to the prisoner, -said—Sir David Ap Owen, I am come at your desire to convince you that I -am incapable of withholding from you any thing on my part, that can -facilitate and further<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_185">{185}</a></span> your repentance, which I truly hope may be so -perfect and sincere, as to atone for your offences, grievous as they -have been, and, through the intercession of your Redeemer, recommend you -to the mercy and forgiveness of your God.</p> - -<p>The prisoner had been reading; he raised his eyes from the book, and -fixing them with wild amazement upon the person of the man he had so -deeply injured, now beyond all his hopes presenting himself at his call, -and addressing him with these solemn and impressive words, when struck -on a sudden to the heart (the mortal dose conspiring with his conscience -to arrest and stop its pulses) he gave a hideous shriek and fell into a -swoon.</p> - -<p>There were two centinels within the room; the officer upon guard had -entered with De Lancaster, and his relation<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_186">{186}</a></span> Mr. Roberts was also -present to assist him. By their efforts, and the medical assistance -within their call, the prisoner after a time was brought out of his fit; -De Lancaster in the mean while never stirring from the spot where he -stood.</p> - -<p>There was evidently a change and some derangement of features observable -in the prisoner after this attack: his mouth was in a degree drawn -aside, and he seemed to speak with difficulty: he made himself however -understood, and asked if he might be permitted to be in private with the -gentleman, who had condescended to visit him—I am struck with death, he -said, and if the door was opened to me, I could not walk out of it.—To -this the officer made answer, that his orders did not allow him in any -case to take off the centinels, and of course his suit could not be -granted.—I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_187">{187}</a></span> submit, replied the dying suicide, and now when I am -hastening to the presence of that awful Judge, from whom nothing that I -have done, nothing that I have meditated, can be hidden or concealed, -what avails it who is present to hear and to attest my full and free -confession that I am guilty of the heinous crime, for which I justly -suffer this imprisonment, so rigidly, but so deservedly, enforced? It -was because the early virtue of that excellent youth, whom I have now -made fatherless, overshadowed my unworthiness, that my envious spirit -rose against him; it was the praise, which he obtained and merited from -all who spoke of him, that galled my pride, and fostered that malignity -of mind, which hurried me along from step to step to the commission of -the direst acts that ever weighed on<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_188">{188}</a></span> a departing soul. To all my sins I -now have added suicide, and defrauded public justice of its rightful -punishment by being my own executioner. I have been long provided with a -poisonous and tasteless mixture, which, (with horror I confess it) was -destined to be made my instrument of vengeance upon the only woman, that -ever touched my savage heart—the innocent and beautiful Maria Devereux; -and what was it inspired me, monster as I am, with such a horrid -purpose? it was because she honourably withstood my splendid offers, and -candidly avowed that her affections were fixed upon an unknown gallant -officer, who had saved her life, and by that action won her grateful -heart.—Blessed be Heaven, that hath prevented this!—I had more to say, -much more, but it is lost; my memory wan<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_189">{189}</a></span>ders, and I feel the deadly -drug within me now in operation—I know, I know that there is joy -reserved for that benevolent, that blessed youth, who even now with -eyes, that beam divinity, looks on me whilst imploring pardon with my -dying breath, and pities even the murderer of his father.</p> - -<p>Here his voice failed; the deleterious dose rushed to the seat of life; -another spasm seized him; his senses vanished; death was in his visage, -horrible to behold; the medical assistants came about him, pronounced -him gone; the poison had prevailed. The awful consummation was complete.</p> - -<p class="fint">END OF BOOK THE SECOND.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_190">{190}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="BOOK_THE_THIRD"></a>BOOK THE THIRD.</h2> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_I-c"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> -<i>Our Hero meets Major Wilson, and a Conference takes place, which to -some of my Readers may perhaps be interesting.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> John De Lancaster was crossing the barrack-yard on his return from -the guard-house, he was met by Major Wilson, to whom he imparted the -tragical event, which he had so lately witnessed. When the Major had -given directions for the measures necessary to be taken in consequence -of the prisoner’s death by suicide upon his own confession, he expressed -his wish to De Lancaster, that he would step aside with him into his -private room, having something<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_191">{191}</a></span> on his mind, that he was anxious to -communicate to him.</p> - -<p>As soon as they had seated themselves the Major said—Though the sudden -exit of this wretched man naturally takes up your thoughts, and must -also occupy my attention, yet I seize a few minutes, my dear John, to -inform you of something that has passed between Mr. Devereux and me this -morning; and I am persuaded you will pardon the intrusion, though it is -a matter, that relates entirely to myself. I had not long parted from -that gentleman, when I met you, and his business with me was to request, -that I would change my quarters, and accept of the accommodation of his -house, whilst you and Edward took up your abode with him. When I -declined this polite invitation on the plea of regimental duties, his -kindness led him to urge it upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_192">{192}</a></span> me with a degree of earnestness, that -seemed very particular, and embarrassed me not a little; for in fact I -had more reasons for withstanding his importunity than were convenient -for me to disclose to him. To you, my dear John, I can tell all the -truth, and the truth is, that like a silly puppy as I am, I have -something more than a weak side towards his fair daughter, and don’t -choose to expose my folly in either his or her company. You must know, -my friend, that yesterday was not the first time of my seeing her. In a -situation of some danger from an unruly horse at a review, it was my -fortune to be of service to her; by which adventure I dislocated my -wrist, and have felt a pain in a certain part under my left ribs ever -since: It occurred to me that her father had been let into the secret of -this piece of service,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_193">{193}</a></span> on my part, and was seeking an opportunity for -making me some sort of return, which you can well believe I am too proud -to allow of; besides which—</p> - -<p>Besides what? said John (availing himself of a pause in the Major’s -narrative) can’t you go on with your story, and fairly own that you are -not one whit more in love with Maria Devereux than Maria Devereux is -with you? do you suppose that I have no eyes, no observation to discover -that?</p> - -<p>Nonsense! rejoined the Major, you allude to what occurred upon our -meeting yesterday, and mistake gratitude for liking. Now gratitude, you -know, won’t serve her purpose, for I want no return; and love would make -an ass and a fool of me, were I to let it get the mastery of me; for -what am I? ’Twould be just as possible to persuade his faithful majes<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_194">{194}</a></span>ty -to give me the princess of Portugal to wife, as to propose my ridiculous -self, (Major Wilson forsooth, with a sword by his side and a bit of -ribband in his hat) to a man of Devereux’s sort, whose coffers overflow -with the gold of Brazil, and whose daughter is a rock of diamonds, -eclipsed indeed by the lustre of her eyes, and the bright display of ten -thousand thousand charms, which I am not quite philosopher enough to -withstand, nor fool enough to encounter? Why, John, if I could suppose -for a moment that she had any liking for me, s’death! I should run -crazy, nay, I know not where I should run.—</p> - -<p>Into her arms to be sure, John replied; I don’t fancy you need run any -where else, if you knew half as much of your own case as I do. But tell -me first how you brought yourself off with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_195">{195}</a></span> Mr. Devereux. Didn’t you -accept of his invitation, and won’t you post yourself in the citadel, -when the gates are opened to you?</p> - -<p>Not for the world, said Wilson: ’Tis not in my nature to be so -presumptuous. In short I managed my affairs most wretchedly; honesty got -the better of me, and after blundering out several false excuses, I at -last let out the true one, and, like a downright John-Bull blockhead -fairly told him, that his daughter was too captivating, and I too much -captivated, to venture any nearer to a lovely and enchanting object, -whom, if I were rash enough to approach, it would be only to expose my -folly, and destroy my peace. I believe I said something too vauntingly -about honour and attachment to my profession, which I considered as a -patrimony I never<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_196">{196}</a></span> could be brought to alienate: in fine however I -became more humble, and earnestly besought him to allow of my declining -his favours altogether, whilst I had recollection enough left to find my -way to the army I belonged to, and shew myself not totally unworthy of -his good opinion by the force I put upon myself to preserve it. And now, -friend John, what say you to all this, that I have been telling you? -you, that have all the wisdom in a green head, that others have in their -grey ones, answer me, and say—did I, or did I not, do right?</p> - -<p>In point of honour, Major, you did right; you were a little romantic -perhaps, but, honourably speaking, you did strictly right. But you have -not told me how your conference ended.</p> - -<p>At this moment an orderly man put a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_197">{197}</a></span> letter into his hands, which having -hastily perused, he said—I am not sure that our conference is ended, my -dear fellow; for it should seem as if the gentleman only quitted me to -collect materials for continuing it. I will read you Mr. Devereux’s note -just now received, and you will judge.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“At the express desire of Maria Devereux I am to signify to the -gallant officer, whom she holds herself indebted to for life, that -she cannot admit the plausibility of his scruples, and will -guarantee his honour, if he will be pleased to wave them, and make -her and his friends happy by being of the family party this day at -dinner. The undersigned, who writes what she has dictated, begs -leave to add that he is ready to second these her absolute -commands, or any other to the like effect, that she may lay upon -him in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_198">{198}</a></span> the case aforesaid, and thereunto, for the fuller -satisfaction of the parties concerned, he pledges his name,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">George Devereux, senior</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>No sooner had our friendly hero heard him to the end, than impatient to -congratulate him, he exclaimed—And what would you have more to assure -you, that you have gained the prize, and all your wishes, all your hopes -are crowned? Now all this I could have told you, had I not been a little -too much of a man of honour to betray family secrets, but the wretched -suicide, who lies in yonder guard-house, made no secret of declaring -before he died, that Maria Devereux scrupled not to avow her fixed -attachment to the unknown officer, who had saved her life. Can you want -any further evidence, or would you have her<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_199">{199}</a></span> to proclaim her passion for -you in the public square by sound of bell? Do you require the father to -fall upon his knees to you, and petition you to save his daughter’s -life? Something a little short of this, methinks, if I can comprehend -that note, he has already done. Now then, puissant conqueror, sally -forth in all your pomp of triumph, and receive into your arms the -loveliest girl (excepting always her whom I should still except, was the -whole world of beauty ranged before me) that ever I beheld. I did not -think I could have felt such joy on this side those old towers, in which -my heart is lodged. Oh my dear Wilson, let me be the bearer of these -joyous tidings to your beloved, your delighted father, to my old darling -grandsires, to my sainted aunt and to my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_200">{200}</a></span> lovely my betrothed Amelia. My -work is done. I’ll quicken my departure.</p> - -<p>The name of the sub-minister was now announced to Major Wilson, and De -Lancaster took his leave.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_II-c"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> -<i>Major Wilson visits Mr. Devereux. John De Lancaster briefly recites the -History of Amelia Jones.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">A grave</span> and courtier-like gentleman presented himself to Major Wilson, -and with much deliberation informed him, that his most faithful majesty, -having resolved to repair to Elvas for the purpose of reviewing the -combined forces there assembled, had signified his royal pleasure, that -a British officer, not below<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_201">{201}</a></span> the rank of major of cavalry, should be -sought out to attend upon him as one of his aid-de-camps on that -occasion; and that he, Major Wilson, having been recommended as an -officer in all respects qualified for that distinguished situation, he -had now the honour to inform Major Wilson, that the king had been -graciously pleased to accept his services, if it suited him to undertake -the duty.</p> - -<p>Sir, replied Major Wilson, I understand it to be so much my duty to lay -my poor services, at the feet of his most faithful majesty, that I -cannot for a moment hesitate to profess myself ready to obey his -majesty’s commands, which I beg you will be pleased to report to the -minister in such terms as may best express the respectful sense, which I -entertain of his excellency’s kindness and condescension.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_202">{202}</a></span></p> - -<p>I shall report to his excellency, the sub-minister made answer, exactly -as you instruct me, and as I know your friend Mr. Devereux to be warmly -interested in your behalf, I shall call upon that gentleman in my way, -and inform him that his wishes are now happily accomplished: I have also -a particular message to Mr. Devereux in command from his majesty, in -whose grace and favour that very worthy gentleman stands extremely high.</p> - -<p>The man in office bowed himself out of the room, and Wilson sate down -and wrote as follows to Mr. Devereux, in answer to his note.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="indd2"> -“Sir,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“If my diffidence caused me to decline your most obliging -invitation, I am sensible no plea will excuse me, when you join -authority so irresistible with your<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_203">{203}</a></span> own: You will nevertheless be -pleased to bear in mind, that I have confided to you my terrors, -and acknowledged my unworthiness. I have just now had a visit from -a gentleman in office, which convinces me that you are resolved I -shall be indebted to you for favours, which I have no right to -expect, but which it would have been an unpardonable presumption on -my part to have withstood. I am much afraid you have recommended a -very unfit person for courtly services, when I cannot find words to -express to you how much I am,</p> - -<p class="indd2"> -Sir,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -Your ever obliged and<br /> -devoted servant<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Henry Wilson</span>.”<br /> -</p></div> - -<p>When it was time for the Major to fulfil his engagement, and wait upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_204">{204}</a></span> -Mr. Devereux, he found the gentlemen assembled in the receiving-room, -but no Maria. It is probable she had passed a little more time than was -usual with her at her toilet; but her occupation there was not to find -ornaments for her person, but rather to recommend herself to her -expected visitor by the simplicity and modest elegance of her dress. -When dinner was announced she contrived to meet the company as they -passed the hall, and avoided the embarrassment of a formal entrance.</p> - -<p>As the events, which had so lately occurred, kept the house under -exclusion as to visitors, their party still continued to consist of -their family circle only. The conversation after dinner took that turn, -which naturally tends to put the parties at their ease, and as the -gaiety of the Major’s disposition began to show itself,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_205">{205}</a></span> Maria’s spirits -rose, and reserve was banished. Addressing herself to him, she said—I -understand you are to be at court to-morrow, and my father is to have -the honour of presenting you to his majesty. I don’t conceive you will -like it; ’tis a formal piece of business. You will be more at home in -the field at Elvas, when your favourite regiment passes in review.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, said John De Lancaster, Edward and I must be measuring -back our solitary way by sea and land, deprived of that agreeable -society, which we enjoyed on our passage hither. Events, which we could -not foresee, and which produce sensations and reflections of a very -opposite nature, have contributed to dismiss me from the duty of a -longer stay, and a very little time will now release from any further -trouble<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_206">{206}</a></span> these generous friends, whose benevolence has given us shelter; -and as I despair of ever expressing to Mr. Devereux the full sense I -entertain of the kindness and consolation I have received under the -protection of this charitable roof, I must rely upon the friend I leave -behind me to take every occasion for bearing witness to my gratitude, -till we may all have the happiness of meeting once more in our native -land; a happiness, which I hope is in reserve for every one of us. I -have secured my passage in the pacquet, now on her return to England. My -first duty will be to deposit the mournful charge, that providence has -been pleased to lay upon me, in the burial-place of my family. There are -two benevolent old men, anxiously expecting me, both far advanced in -years, between whom and me there is now a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_207">{207}</a></span> broken link in the chain, -that leaves, alas! to them but a precarious and short hold on life. Your -gallant father, my dear Henry, is, you know, and ever has been, as my -father also; and for my aunt Cecilia, what I feel towards her, is only -short of absolute idolatry.</p> - -<p>Here as our hero seemed about to pause, Edward, who had watched him with -a pleased attention, said—John, you have gratified us much with this -account of your own feelings for a family of love, whom when you speak -of thus, by honouring them, you at the same time reflect most honour on -yourself. But is there not another in your thoughts—aye, in your heart, -my friend, of whom you have not spoken? Come, let us—let me at -least—hear me of the lovely, the beloved Amelia.</p> - -<p>Ah, why name her? De Lancaster re<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_208">{208}</a></span>plied. Why tell the Major soldiers are -courageous? What news to him? He knows it, and he feels it? Why tell -Miss Devereux, women may be charming, and men be charmed? She knows it, -and we feel it. If love be named in any lady’s hearing, it should be -love particular, not general—How am I sure, if I should speak of love -in any way that I can speak, the topick would be pleasing to Miss -Devereux, who has such powers to inspire it, but may not want to be told -any thing of those, who feel it?</p> - -<p>I understand you, sir, Maria replied: You are very civil, and a little -sly: But be assured, of all the topicks you could single out most -grateful to my ears, and perhaps most correspondent with my feelings, -would be a fair account without reserve of your love (which<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_209">{209}</a></span> I am sure -is honourable love) for the lady of your choice, of whose perfections I -can’t doubt; and as for beauty I’ll take George’s word for that; he -speaks in rapture of the fair Amelia.</p> - -<p>You must not quite believe him, said our hero: At least it is not for -her beauty I should be inclined to speak in raptures of Amelia. Her form -and face are pleasing I presume; to me at least they are: but there is -something spiritual about her; something I can’t define; an emanation -from the mind within, that takes and keeps possession of my heart. I -seriously declare I never yet was in her company, when I had leisure to -bestow my attention upon her beauty, simply so considered. She was but -as a child when I first saw her; Nature had not supplied her with -attractions, that could induce me to mis<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_210">{210}</a></span>take the impression, I then -received, for any other than a love as pure as her own thoughts, a zeal -to serve her, a wish that I might live to make her happy, and shield -her, like a blossom, from the blast. I found her in the humblest -situation, that dependance on my friends for education and support could -place her. She was an orphan without means to furnish food for another -day. There was a soft petition in her eyes for pity and protection, -which if I had not felt in every vein that visited my heart, I had been -a monster. Her father, a brave soldier, like my friend here in my eye, -whose honour and whose sword were all his portion, married the generous -girl, who risked her life to nurse and save him in a dreadful fever, -when all his fellow soldiers round were dying, and every breath of air, -that she respi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_211">{211}</a></span>red, was charged and saturated with infection.</p> - -<p>Oh what a godlike act, Maria cried! she merited his love. Could he do -less?</p> - -<p>He could not, and he did not, John replied. She was the daughter of a -brother officer, the major of his regiment, then serving in the West -Indies. She lived to be the mother of Amelia; she was too good for this -bad world we live in, and Heaven recalled her; after she was lost, death -had but little trouble to destroy a wretched man, whom sorrow had struck -down, and both Amelia’s parents now repose in the same grave: by happy -chance she found her way to England: there, by the bounty of my -grandfather Morgan and my deceased mother she was placed under the care -of an excellent lady, who educated and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_212">{212}</a></span> brought her up. When my poor -mother died, she left her what she had in her disposal, a slender -portion, but enjoined me on her death bed to consider it as my especial -duty to protect her, and make her happiness, her honour and her -interests in all respects my own: from that moment such they have been, -and ever will be—This is the history of my Amelia. It is my happy -fortune to have gained an interest in her pure and virtuous heart, and, -if we live to meet, let a few months pass by without fresh cause of -sorrow, she will be my wife.</p> - -<p>Happy, happy man! exclaimed Maria, the envied privilege of whose sex it -is to put aside the mean concern of money, and say to the dear object of -your heart—I love you; share my fortune: I am your’s!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_213">{213}</a></span></p> - -<p>As she said this, not daring to abide the interpretation that her words -might bear, she rose and with apparent agitation left the room.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_III-c"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> -<i>A definitive Explanation takes place between Maria Devereux and Major -Wilson.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Maria had retired, the company were silent for a time. Devereux at -length addressed De Lancaster, and said—How much I hold your character -in honour for what you have related to us, I cannot tell you; but I am -convinced the proper use of the advantages, that affluence gives us (and -therein I agree with my Maria) is, to procure that lasting happiness, -which a <span class="pagenum"><a id="page_214">{214}</a></span>well-chosen partnership for life is of all chances, that this -world can give us, the likeliest to ensure to us. Some aspire to raise -their families to rank and title; and it would be a laudable ambition, -if nobler principles, superior wisdom and sublimer virtues were -interwoven with our pedigrees, and descended to our posterity with the -patents of our peerages, and entail of our estates: but these are not -the expectations, neither are they the motives, that induce ambitious -parents to betray their children into those fatal and delusive -marriages, which only elevate them to become conspicuous objects of -disgrace and scorn. I have been long persuaded, that the controul of -parents over the affections and attachments of their children should, by -the laws of nature and of reason, be only exercised for the prevention -of ill-<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_215">{215}</a></span>advised, unworthy, indiscreet connections, which cannot fail to -lead to ruin and repentance. A dissipated profligate, a vain fool, a -gamester, a disbeliever, libertines without principle and conceited -puppies without employ have been known to catch the eyes of an -unthinking girl, but ’tis the parent’s duty to repulse them; so is it -not his duty, but the abuse of it, when he refuses to bestow her fortune -upon the worthy man, whom she has honourably singled out, and wisely -chosen, not by the eye, but heart, to be the sharer of her happiness. -The children, Heaven hath blessed me with, are fitted by understanding, -and fully able by the ample means, which of right they possess, to carve -out for themselves their future lot in life, without regard to what the -objects of their choice may be unprovi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_216">{216}</a></span>ded with, and which they abound -in—worldly property. Each of them have enough, whereon to live in ease -and affluence so long as they can live in harmony and peace—And now I -have tired you with a long harangue, but I would wish to have it -understood by all here present as my rule of practice; so with your -leave, good friends, we will break up this court of conscience, and -remove our cause into another, where we can have the counsel and -assistance of the lady, who there is left in solitary expectation of our -company over her tea and coffee.</p> - -<p>The proposal was instantly complied with, and the gentlemen adjourned to -another room, where Maria was present, and did the honours of her -tea-table. When this business was dispatched, she produced the -chess-board, and offered<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_217">{217}</a></span> a challenge, which Major Wilson gallantly -accepted. Parties, that devote themselves to that dull monopolizing -game, seem for a time to be so absolutely excluded from society, and so -wedded to their own manœuvres, that it is perfectly fair and lawful to -consider them as absentees, and accordingly the gentlemen, who were at -liberty to follow their own amusements, walked out to enjoy the breeze, -that every evening visits the banks of the Tagus from the northward, and -qualifies the else insufferable heat.</p> - -<p>It was some time before the contending parties perceived that they had -no spectators, and not even a solitary second to appeal to in a case of -controversy, if such had arisen, or should arise, in the course of their -engagement.</p> - -<p>You are too strong for me, said Maria,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_218">{218}</a></span> and as I cannot make any -impression on your defences, I give up the contest. You are absolutely a -professor, and I am a mere novice, more fit to be your disciple than -your antagonist: besides, you mask your game, whilst I lay myself open -to you, and (which is more provoking still) when you have me in your -power, and might check-mate me by a single move, you always -mischievously contrive to leave some loop-hole for me to escape, on -purpose to postpone a victory, which you are indifferent about securing -and seem to consider as below your notice.</p> - -<p>If I do this, he said, I’m sure you cannot seriously suppose my reasons -to be those, which you assign. Could you not find some motive for my -hesitation more natural, and less impossible, than indifference? May not -the conscious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_219">{219}</a></span>ness of what I am, instruct me almost to distrust my -senses, though the divinity, whom I adore, should condescend to me her -humble worshipper with looks so gracious, kindness so alluring, as seem -to say—Approach me, and be blest?—but how to approach, when I compute -the distance, that throws me off, and awes me from the attempt, is -indeed a question, that staggers and confounds me.</p> - -<p>At this she smiled, and with a look, that spoke encouragement, which -could not be mistaken, I suppose, she said, the scale, on which you -measure distances between us, is a certain thing called money, which -though you yourself disinterestedly hold in no respect, you think -perhaps that I have not the spirit to treat with the same contempt as -you do. Therein you do me no wrong.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_220">{220}</a></span> Were those eventual and mean -advantages, which I possess, transferred from me to you, I solemnly -declare they would not be a feather in your scale, as I should weigh it; -why then should you suffer them to give a false preponderance to mine? -When Owen laid his fortune at my feet, I had no knowledge of his -character; he had the address to keep it out of sight, his manners were -polite, his temper placid, in point of person nature had rather favoured -him than not. My father left me free to make my choice, and I had made -it; therefore I refused him. Now do you understand me, do you know me? -need I be more explicit? No; the privilege of truth can go no further; -sincerity itself must stop me here.</p> - -<p>Now, now you throw me on my knees for ever, the enraptured lover cried:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_221">{221}</a></span> -now I look up to you as to a being, exalted above all that I conceived -of human excellence: your nobleness of soul is now a charm beyond what -nature has bestowed upon you, and my admiration of your beauty is almost -lost whilst I adore your goodness. When happy fortune threw me in the -way to save you, and receive you in my arms upon that memorable day, I -had marked you out and fixed my eyes upon you in the charge; I knew you -as the daughter of the wealthiest man in Portugal, and honour tied my -tongue, though even then I struggled with a passion which tempted me to -tell you—That your rich father amidst all his treasures had but one -recompence that I would take; which being far above what I could merit, -or dare aspire to, I was proudly silent, and studied rather to avoid -than seek your pre<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_222">{222}</a></span>sence, conscious that every time I looked upon you I -should find fresh occasion to admire you, and, as love sunk the deeper -in my heart, the deeper I should sink into despair.</p> - -<p>Now then, she said, I am understood at last, and it is not the first -proof I have received how slowly merit finds that secret out, which -impudence and vanity pretend at the first glance to see through, and -interpret in their own favour. You are a soldier, and modesty of mind is -ever found with manliness and valour: you must be still a soldier: I’ll -not ask you to sacrifice your honour and your occupation: ’tis for your -country’s service you were born; that is your character; in that you -shine, to that you must adhere, and never for an instant fly your post, -but when you fly to save a fellow creature, as you did me.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_223">{223}</a></span> If you -suspect me weak enough to sigh for any honours greater than to share -your fortune, any pleasures beyond those, which your approving smile -will ever give me, any self-consequence above the honest pride, that I -shall feel to hear your praises, you mistake me wholly. Don’t think that -I will borrow from my father’s stores to dazzle you with diamonds; no; -not one, had he a mine, would I consent to wear, unless by your command, -and that I think will never be your wish to lay upon me, whilst there -are nobler graces and adornments within my reach far more becoming of a -soldier’s wife.</p> - -<p>What answer Major Wilson made to this, how the dialogue was carried on -during the time the lovers were alone, as likewise how much shorter, or -how much longer, that time seemed to them<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_224">{224}</a></span> to be than it really was, -must be left as matter of conjecture, which the imagination of the -reader will readily supply without referring to the chess board to fill -it up, as there is authority to say that game was not by either party -proposed to be renewed. Happiness sanctioned by paternal authority, and -virtuous love unchecked by the demurs of honour, filled the brave heart -of Wilson with delight, and he heard an early day announced by Devereux -for the sure tying of that sacred knot, which nothing but the hand of -death should sever, though in too many cases it has proved a slip knot -in the fingers of the law.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_225">{225}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IV-c"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> -<i>John De Lancaster embarks for England, accompanied by his Friend the -Reverend Mr. Wilson. Conversation on the Passage.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was no longer any cause to stop De Lancaster’s return to England. -All duties were discharged; all ceremonies had been observed towards the -unburied body of his father, which man’s inventive fancy has devised to -decorate the case, that holds our clay, and make the ostentatious living -pay large contributions for those empty honours which they bestow on -human dust and ashes. Mutes, who would keep no silence, and, mourners, -who expressed no sorrow, in rooms, hung round with “customary suits of -solemn black,” had regularly sate up all night long, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_226">{226}</a></span> their full -complement of wax-tapers, to watch a thing that could not run away, and -which no one wished to steal. All these ceremonies, which, had poor -Philip been alive, would have given him such intolerable annoyance, had -now with religious punctuality been performed, and his corpse was -committed to a ship, which, unlike to that wherein he came, was not -bound to the coast of slavery, but to the land of liberty.</p> - -<p>All things were now on board; the morning dawned; the dog-vane witnessed -an auspicious breeze; the crew sung out at the cap-stan and the pacquet -was under weigh. Devereux’s eight-oared galley was in waiting, and -nothing now remained but to put off and part. Although the friends, who -stayed on shore, as well as those, who put to sea, took the very course, -to which their<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_227">{227}</a></span> wishes pointed, and which their own immediate happiness -prescribed, yet they could not separate without sorrow, and the last -farewell drew tears from the brightest eyes in Portugal, and sighs from -some of the best hearts in nature. Philip the whilst, in his narrow -house of lead, slept undisturbed, and was as perfectly untouched by -sensibility as if he had been alive.</p> - -<p>The gallant vessel in the mean time, as if conscious of the charge she -had on board, cut her passage through the waves, not deigning to rise to -them, but throwing them aside, and dashing them from her bows, as her -spreading canvass pressed her down in the water, and hurried her along -before the steady breeze.</p> - -<p>Our hero and his friend, having cast a parting look upon the towers of -Lisbon, retired into the cabin, whilst the master<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_228">{228}</a></span> kept the deck, -regaling himself in the prospect of so fair an outset, for the weather -was delicious, and the sky prognosticated a continuance of the breeze.</p> - -<p>If any thing, said Wilson, could reconcile me to the imprisonment of a -ship, it would be a day like this, with a breeze impregnated with odours -of orange flowers to regale my senses, and the elements in good humour -all around me. I am happy to discover that there are some consolatory -moments in a seaman’s life. And now, my dear John, I am satisfied you -have not let these singular events pass by without reflecting, with due -gratitude to the Disposer of our fate, how graciously he has been -pleased to terminate our enterprize; which, though not absolutely -untinctured with disappointment and misfortune, might yet have led to -miseries, that would have admit<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_229">{229}</a></span>ted of no consolation. Don’t let me -wound your filial feelings, when I remind you, that the blow, which made -you fatherless, might have fallen where it would have extinguished more -lives than one, and blotted out the very name of De Lancaster for ever. -If I went so far as to say, that probably there are few beings in -existence, whose loss society has less cause to mourn than that of him, -whose remains we are now bearing to the grave, I should not at least -offend against truth, tho’ I might need your pardon for addressing the -remark to you. How visible is the hand of divine justice in the -apprehension of that guilty wretch, and in the prevention of those -further crimes, which he meditated to commit! What can be more -strikingly charactered, more impressively apportioned to our ideas of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_230">{230}</a></span> -retribution, than that tragical catastrophe, which passed before your -eyes, and put a period to his sinful life? How mercifully is it ordered, -that those worldly blessings, which he so grossly abused, will now -devolve upon one, who seems able and disposed to estimate them rightly, -and employ them worthily! when we turn our thoughts to what has come to -pass respecting my most fortunate and happy brother, what a dispensation -do we contemplate! How unexpected, how beyond all hope! If in one -respect we bring home with us fresh cause for mourning, do we not also -bring full matter for rejoicing, if happily we return to our dear -friends in safety, and find them, as Heaven grant we may! in prosperous -health and undisturbed tranquillity of mind?</p> - -<p>That, my dear Edward, that indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_231">{231}</a></span> replied De Lancaster, will be a -happiness never to be exceeded, a vouchsafement never to be forgotten. -As from these windows I look out and see the foaming track, which our -swift-sailing vessel leaves behind her, my heart exults to think, that -we have cut off so much from the space of sea, that we must traverse -before we reach the shores of that asylum, where I left all that my soul -has treasured up to bless and crown with happiness my days to come. Ah, -my best friend, if Heaven shall so vouchsafe that I may live to call -Amelia mine, and, when possest of all my heart holds dear, if those -principles, which you have taught me, shall be found still operative, -still inviolate and pure, how vast will be my obligations to you, who -took me when I was in a state of dereliction, taught me to perceive that -I was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_232">{232}</a></span> endowed with reason, and enabled me to discern how to apply it to -its proper uses. If I could have suffered the events, which you have -instanced, to have passed by me without reflections, of which you remind -me, I must have been insensible indeed: On the contrary, be assured they -struck me with the double force of opposite examples, shewing me both -the evil and the good; the punishment of villainy in the instance of Ap -Owen, and the reward of virtue in the person of your brother.</p> - -<p>The master of the pacquet now came into the cabin, and introduced a -gentleman by the name of Anderton, in whose frame and complexion the -effects of tropical disease were strongly marked. He might be somewhat -past the middle stage of life, and there were traces in his sickly -countenance of that mild <span class="pagenum"><a id="page_233">{233}</a></span>character, that to hearts like those of our -hero and his friend made an interesting appeal; and he soon perceived -that his good fortune had thrown him into the company of fellow -passengers, who felt for his situation, and were naturally disposed to -shew him all attentions in their power, and tender him a share in all -those comforts, which Devereux’s care had amply stored them with, and -which his condition seemed so much to need.</p> - -<p>The wind was fair, the sea was easy, and the motion of the vessel being -regularly and rapidly progressive, was not of that sort, which produces -sickness and disquietude. Anderton by their invitation reposed himself -on the couch, where they took their seats on each side of him. His eyes -now brightened as he turned them on his beneficent companions, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_234">{234}</a></span> -blood flushed faintly in his cheeks, and addressing them, he said—</p> - -<p>Knowing in whose company I have the happiness to be, and highly grateful -as I am for the kind reception you have given me, though as yet a -perfect stranger, it is fit that I should briefly tell you who and what -I am; briefly it needs must be, for one dull scene of industry, one -uniform pursuit, comprize the whole history of my unimportant solitary -life. If it were the sole purpose of man in this world to make his -fortune, I have accomplished that purpose; for in colonial property I am -superfluously rich. I was an orphan in my infancy, and have no -recollection of my parents; after a scanty education upon charity, I was -taken into a merchant’s service, where I performed the menial offices -of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_235">{235}</a></span> his counting-house; there however I gained a knowledge of accounts -and forms of business. I devoted myself, as I have told you, without -avocation of any kind, to the task before me, and was consigned over to -the manager of a considerable estate in Jamaica as an under agent, who -was not likely to decline any labour, or betray any trust. I did neither -one nor the other; they did not spare me, and I did not spare myself. -Incessant industry, no taste for pleasure, no incitements to excess, an -absolute sequestration from all society, and no diversion of ideas from -those, which I employed upon the cane, the mill and the negro, raised me -by degrees hardly gained to a capacity of adventuring for myself, and my -laborious efforts have succeeded, as I told you, to the fullest extent; -I am the sole fabricator of an<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_236">{236}</a></span> ample property, for the attainment of -which I have, as you see, sacrificed my health, and deprived myself of -the ability to enjoy my earnings. One consolation however supports me on -reflection, which is that of being conscious, that I am chiefly indebted -for my prosperity to the humanity, with which I ever treated those, who -were my slaves: I have been the founder of their happiness, and they the -instruments, that have raised my fortune. I made their cabins -comfortable, their wives and children happy; I contemplated their -increase with satisfaction, and can boast of having never purchased or -imported a single African, since I have been owner of a single acre. -They grew up with me as their common father, they lived and worked for -me, I lived to think and act for them. To the whole world of white men I -am a stran<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_237">{237}</a></span>ger; except with one alone I never formed acquaintance: he, -and he only, was my friend; from him I learnt the precepts and the -policy of humanity to my enslaved fellow creatures: I loved him as my -own life; he married and became a widower; I received him in his sorrow, -and lodged him in my house; he was a soldier, and a gentleman; my purse -would have been his for every use he could have put it to, but his -high-born spirit would not stoop to obligations of that sort; he -sickened, languished a few days, and expired in my arms. My spirit died -with him; every comfort, every joy my nature was capable of feeling, -were buried with him in the grave. He left a little orphan girl, in whom -the remnant of my heart was wrapped; her grandfather took her from me; -she was sent to England, and, if she yet survives, and is in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_238">{238}</a></span> the -virtues of her mind, what she promised to be in the beauties of her -person, she is an angel. Would I might see her once before I die!</p> - -<p>Tell me her name, said De Lancaster, and instantly, as Anderton -pronounced Amelia Jones, our astonished hero threw himself back on the -couch, smote his hands together and with uplifted eyes exclaimed—Just -Heaven, how wonderful are thy decrees!</p> - -<p>The explanation, that ensued, would be superfluous to relate; it filled -up the time till the hour of dinner put an end to it. Devereux’s -provisions furnished out an excellent repast, and the sea-air supplied -an appetite. Anderton fed heartily, and the languor of his countenance -yielded to the joint effects of cordial diet, and that elevation of -spirits, which the conversation of De Lancaster and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_239">{239}</a></span> Wilson had inspired -him with. After a glass or two of delicious wine had gone temperately -round, the cabin was cleared; all, who had charge of the ship, repaired -to their duty on the deck, and the three passengers were left at liberty -to resume their conversation.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_V-c"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> -<i>John De Lancaster and Wilson arrive at Kray Castle.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">From</span> the preceding Chapter it appears that John De Lancaster had made -known to Anderton the situation of Amelia Jones, and that gentleman no -sooner found himself in private with his new friends, than, turning to -our hero, he said—The hopes, you have held out<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_240">{240}</a></span> to me of beholding the -relick of my dear-loved friend, inspire me with new life, and I will not -despair but that the clear air of Wales may keep my waining lamp alive a -little longer.</p> - -<p>At least I’ll give the experiment a chance, for though I don’t fear -death, simply considered as a dismission from this world, yet I would -most devoutly wish to fit myself for it as my passport to the world to -come. For that, alas! I have made no preparation. Of my religion I am -supremely ignorant; I have had no church, no pastor to instruct me. I -scarce know why and by what right I call myself a Christian: I must -believe I ought to understand the book of duties, that is open to me; -but where is the instructor? Nothing can be too much for me to give, -could I but find that charitable man, who patiently and pious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_241">{241}</a></span>ly would -teach me rightly to know and reverence my God, or ere I am summoned to -appear before him. The tomb itself can be no darker than my ignorant -mind; he whose instruction will throw light on that, will merit all the -uses of my fortune, on which there is not in this world one, who by -affinity or friendship has the slightest claim, now that Amelia Jones is -so disposed of.</p> - -<p>Stop there, said the Reverend Mr. Wilson, if you please. Had you not -named what seems so like a lure to bribe me to your service, I had -offered my best endeavours, as in duty bound (being myself a minister of -the Gospel), to give you that assistance, which you profess yourself so -earnest to obtain.</p> - -<p>Oh that you would! said Anderton.</p> - -<p>Be patient, rejoined Wilson, I can make no promise till I am satisfied,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_242">{242}</a></span> -that you withdraw all thoughts of every thing, which seems allied to -worldly recompence, and credit me for pure benevolence and zeal to serve -my God by services to you. Here therefore we must conclude this -conversation for the present, and wait till further knowledge of each -other may possibly dispose us to renew it with effect.</p> - -<p>In the further progress of their voyage Anderton’s gentle and benignant -nature so recommended him to Wilson, and he drew such comfort from the -discourses, which that excellent instructor favoured him with, that, as -his understanding opened, his spirits and his health improved, and he -became as it were a new creature.</p> - -<p>As they neared the land, the breeze freshened, and in the first of the -morning they came to anchor in the port of Falmouth. Upon their landing, -the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_243">{243}</a></span> attendants on the corpse lost no time in providing for its -conveyance to Exeter, where fresh relays were to be had; and, when these -arrangements were made, our hero and his friend, with young Williams -only, set out for Kray Castle by the shortest road, and Anderton bent -his course to London. The journey of these gentlemen was in all respects -like the journeys, which other gentlemen take, except in novels, for the -drivers and horses, whether good or bad, performed their stages, and -their carriage was driven into the court of Kray Castle, nay, even up to -the castle-door, without accident or adventure of any kind. The surprise -of the old porter was such, that he took especial care, that every body -within hearing should partake of it, and rang out an alarm so violent, -that some cracked bells and some<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_244">{244}</a></span> crazy towers would have resented it in -a manner not very convenient for the puller of the rope, which provoked -them to such clamorous exertion.</p> - -<p>The family had not quitted the breakfast-room, for Mr. De Lancaster had -engaged their attention to a dissertation upon dreams, in consequence of -a prediction, which David Ap Rees had ventured to enounce from his -tripod, namely, that Mr. John De Lancaster was on his road, and would -speedily arrive in safety; David having gone to bed with a full dose of -soporifick metheglin, and been visited in his sleep with the vision of -young John and his father alighting at the castle-gate safe and sound -from the backs of two griffins, that had flown with them through the -air. This he had imparted to his patron after his morning serenade, and -that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_245">{245}</a></span> excellent person had entertained a very good opinion of the -prophecy, though he had some hesitation to admit the vehicle of the -griffins: Upon this circumstance he commenced a learned dissertation -upon dreams, holding at nought Mr. Locke’s notion of their being made up -of the waking man’s thoughts, and substituting an opinion of his own, -which took up so much time in explanation, and grew to be so entirely -unintelligible by his mode of explaining it, that when the turret bell -sounded out that terrible alarm, old Morgan started and cried out -amain—What the devil is coming to us now? That horrid bell has waked me -out of a comfortable nap, in which I was dreaming of—</p> - -<p>Your grandson John, said De Lancaster, and behold he is here!</p> - -<p>It is in scenes like this, which now<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_246">{246}</a></span> took place upon the sudden -entrance of our hero, that speeches cannot be found for people, who all -speak at the same time, and of course out-talk description. The tender -sex have tearful eyes and trembling nerves for these occasions; the -three seniors had their several modes of giving vent to their joy, and -each mode different from the other.—The dream is verified, cried De -Lancaster, my grandson is arrived in safety—But he did not come upon a -dragon, said the Colonel—No matter, exclaimed old Morgan; here he is, -and that’s enough.</p> - -<p>Edward Wilson now came into the room, and the cordial congratulations of -every one present were renewed upon the sight of him. In the general -exultation it so happened that nobody had yet recollected to make one -enquiry about poor Philip. At length Cecilia<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_247">{247}</a></span> said—What is become of my -brother? Have you left him still in Lisbon?</p> - -<p>He is not in Lisbon, replied John. We should not have left you without -an account of every thing as it came to pass, if a single pacquet had -sailed from Lisbon, whilst we remained in it; we came in the only one, -that was on that side the water, and they stopped it till the dispatches -from the army were made up. Much has occurred in the short time we have -been absent from you, and we have happy news for Colonel Wilson of our -gallant Major; but as we have travelled hard and are journey-baited; if -you will let us satisfy our hunger first, we will then endeavour to -satisfy your curiosity.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_248">{248}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VI-c"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> -<i>Familiar Anecdotes of the Family at Kray Castle: Comments on the -Events, which occurred at Lisbon.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> will be a very saving compromise for our readers to refer John De -Lancaster’s narrative to their recollection rather than to tire their -patience with a recapitulation of what they have heard before. Let it -therefore be understood that the eventful narrative has been minutely -given; that Mr. De Lancaster with philosophical resignation has -acquiesced in the dispensation of poor Philip’s death; that he has -acknowledged the hand of Providence in the seizure of his murderer, and -in the consummation of his dreadful doom; and that the happy return of -our beloved hero, now sole heir of the De Lancasters and Mor<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_249">{249}</a></span>gans, with -the brilliant prospect of Major Wilson’s fortunate connection, leave -impressions on the hearers only tinged, not obscured, by sorrow and -regret.</p> - -<p>When we reflect, said Robert De Lancaster, upon occurrences in all -respects, save one, so prosperously, so providentially disposed, it -would be an unpardonable offence in us, who have been listening to the -narrative, were we to suffer one ingrateful murmur to escape us, because -the general blessing, though beyond our hopes, and far above our merits, -defeats our wishes in one single point. Cecilia will recollect how ill -we jointly augured of the idle expedition, that has now proved fatal to -the unhappy object, who obstinately would set out upon it, and returns a -corpse. Fate has now struck him down, who would not wait to witness, as -in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_250">{250}</a></span> duty bound, and to console, as by humanity it was required of him, a -wife, who languished on the bed of death. Can we complain of this? Is -there not justice in the dispensation? If then it behoves me, his -father, to submit in silence, who amongst you will give way to -lamentation? We will consign his body to the grave with suitable -respect, and his memory to oblivion with as much philosophy as we can -muster, for in the journal of his days, if every action was set down, -there will be found not one, on which we can engraft a single word of -praise to grace him with an epitaph. Therefore, my good and worthy -brother Morgan, you, who by law, and I, who by nature, fathered this -poor man, will pray for life, that we may see the hour, which but for -this event, had joined the hands of those affianced lovers, now in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_251">{251}</a></span> our -sight, destined, as I trust, to keep our names alive and lay our grey -heads in a peaceful grave.</p> - -<p>I’ll tell you what, brother of mine, said old Morgan; if I live to see -that happy day, I don’t believe I shall be content to lay my grey head -in any grave at all, let it be as peaceful as it may. I hope those fatal -spinsters won’t cut my thread, just when I want to wind up my bottom, -and be merry: why, I’ve a cellar full of wine, that I hope will be drank -out before I die; I have a locker full of money to scatter amongst the -poor, and a subterranean of strong beer to set the antient Britons -a-dancing on their heads. I know I am an old gouty good-for-nothing -blockhead; but what then? ’Tis other people’s wit, not our own, that -makes us merry; and let death stand at the door, I’ll have my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_252">{252}</a></span> laugh -out, so long as he does not come in, and spoil the company: Here’s my -old friend Wilson, who has literally one leg in the grave, why he makes -battle still, like a stout fellow, and fights upon his stumps, as -Whittington did in Chevy Chase. Was there ever in the annals of good -fortune such a happy father as he is? ’Tis not in the order of things -probable, that a fellow, like his son Henry, with all the disadvantages -of modest merit, refined high principle and rigid unrelenting honour, -should find himself invited, nay, compelled, to be one of the happiest -and most prosperous gentlemen, that beauty, wealth and virtue ever -joined to bless. How, in the name of all that’s wonderful, did it come -to pass, that Devereux, a trader in diamonds, should have the good sense -to discover, and the good heart to reward,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_253">{253}</a></span> the merits of Major Wilson? -What shall I say of him? Why, I will say, that he is worthy to enjoy the -friendship of De Lancaster, and his daughter to share the affection and -esteem of Cecilia and Amelia; and if any body can suggest how I may do -him and her greater honours, I shall be glad to hear it. As for myself, -if some kind spirit, that is friendly to good fellowship, will -graciously keep from me pain and sickness for a while, I shall be -profoundly thankful; but I must not be importunate; if he gives me to -the full as much as I deserve, and gives no more, my allowance will be -nothing: still if I may be suffered to hang, as I do, like a ragged -remnant, on the skirts of society, I shall be well content, for I would -fain shake honest Devereux by the hand before I die; aye, and poor -Anderton be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_254">{254}</a></span>fore he dies, because he loved the dear white man, whom I -loved and lamented, and because he dandled on his knee my pretty Amelia, -who is sweeter than all his sugar-canes, though she does not care a rush -for such a rascally old negro as I am.</p> - -<p>Oh sir, sir, cried Amelia, don’t say that, even in jest—And rising from -her seat, devoutly put her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips -upon his forehead.</p> - -<p>Child, child, he cried; don’t overthrow me. I am a weak old fool with a -watery head, and you, who are the fair nymph of the fountain, can make -it stream at pleasure.</p> - -<p>Brother Morgan, said De Lancaster, whilst you think fit to rally -yourself with pleasantry, you shall be as pleasant as you like, and we -won’t quarrel with you; but if you pique us upon the serious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_255">{255}</a></span> point of -affection and respect, we may chance to defend ourselves in the same -manner, that Amelia has done; I think therefore you will do well to be -contented with the salute you have got; for the rough beard of Menelaus -won’t do after the sweet lips of Helen.</p> - -<p>In the mean time, said the Colonel, if it will be any gratification to -see Maria Devereux, I’ll introduce her to you. It is an elegant -compliment, that her father has made in sending me her picture; and -though Henry tells me in his letter that it is not half so handsome as -the original, that may be an opinion very natural for him to give, but -we are not absolutely bound to take the lover’s word against the -painter’s art. Saying this, he gave the picture to Morgan; the ladies -eagerly rose, and even De Lancaster was impatient to satisfy his -curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_256">{256}</a></span> with a sight of it: The ladies were in raptures with the -beauty, De Lancaster with the character of the countenance; Morgan -declared at once, that he had seen enough to understand why she -preferred one of the finest fellows in the British service to all the -yellow-faced nobles in the court of Portugal—There is discernment, said -he, in those eyes, brother De Lancaster—Yes, yes; replied the other—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oculi loquuntur male pertinaces.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VII-c"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> -<i>Conversation in an Evening Walk.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> evening was delicious, there was a stillness in the air, that seemed -like the repose of nature, when our hero and his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_257">{257}</a></span> Amelia walked forth to -enjoy those happy moments, which rural scenes and rural solitude afford -to Love. They were no sooner out of ear-shot from the castle walls, when -John began—Now, my sweet girl, when no witness is about us, but the -unseen Spirit, that protects and guards you, I can open all my heart to -you without reserve, for it honours you, it loves you, it adores you. I -have been absent from you; I have visited another country, I have seen -other women, and contemplated their charms and their allurements without -emotion or the diversion of a thought from you. I am entirely and -unalterably yours. I think you love me; nay, I am sure you do; nothing -therefore but the hand of death can separate us, and when I dissuaded -Anderton from leaving you his fortune, it was because I regarded you -already as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_258">{258}</a></span> my wife. But time, my lovely girl, must pass before I can -have legal right to call you by that name. You see within how short a -period I have been deprived of both my parents, and although my -grandfather De Lancaster treats or feigns to treat the late melancholy -event as a philosopher, I cannot help feeling it as a son; for I was -present to behold my father die and witnessed his last words. If I could -charge my conscience with having hesitated or delayed to obey his -summons, and hasten to his relief, I should be wretched in the extreme: -but, thank Heaven, I had fortitude to tear myself from your arms, and -cannot reproach myself with any breach of duty. Nothing can exceed the -kindness I received from Mr. Devereux and his family: but neither his -hospitality, nor the approaching nuptials of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_259">{259}</a></span> daughter with my -friend Major Wilson, could prevail with me to prolong my stay a single -hour beyond the very first pacquet, that afforded me an opportunity of -returning to the place where I had left my heart. You will perceive I -gave you credit for a mind superior to the vanity of show and ornament; -for I have not brought a single gem to glitter on that lovely person, -whose elegance and simplicity are its best adornments. My dear Amelia, -we must seek for other honours, than decoration can give us; we must -find out better uses for the affluence we are entrusted with, than gems -and equipage and splendid galas: If you and I decide upon a country -life, we will not let our tranquillity degenerate into indolence, nor -ever suffer these superfluities, which we have no present call for, to -accumulate for those, may<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_260">{260}</a></span> chance to come after us to inherit, and -perhaps to misapply, them: No, we will consider prosperity as a loan, -and administer our abundance as the almoners of Providence, and stewards -for the uses of our fellow-creatures, whose privations and distresses -shall have claims upon that, which is not given as a monopoly to be -devoured by one, but as a resource against the wants of many. By this -conduct I may atone for not devoting my life, as well as my fortune, to -the service of my country; and you may walk forth amongst your poor -dependent pensioners, brighter and more splendid in the lustre of your -charities than if I hung you round with all the jewels of the Lady of -Loretto. Let us live hospitably, becomingly, liberally, after the -example of my grandfather; but don’t let us make an undistinguishing -waste either by our<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_261">{261}</a></span> domestic style of living, or by wanton largesses to -any, who may not deserve, as well as need, relief. We will support the -industrious, who struggle against hard fortune, and the helpless, who -would else sink under it; but we will not confound the lazy drone with -the laborious bee. And now, beloved of my soul, as I have occupied you -with a long homily, and wearied you with a long walk, here is a baiting -place to repose in; sit down with me upon this shady bench, and let me -read my answer in those heavenly eyes.</p> - -<p>Oh, my dear sir, replied the fond and happy Amelia, your just and -generous sentiments instruct and charm me. Convinced, that by the -practice of these virtues you will ensure all that my heart can wish, -all that my prayers can ask of Heaven, you give me that supreme -de<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_262">{262}</a></span>light, which only can be felt, but not described. What can I say to -you? What other answer can you look for from your devoted, your -betrothed Amelia, but that I am entirely yours? Is it enough to tell -you, that I love you, that my whole happiness depends upon you? No; I am -not quite convinced, but that the impression, which at our first -interview you left so deeply fixed in this poor hopeless heart, would -have compelled me to have loved you still, though you had treated me -with marked neglect; nay, though you had neglected your own self, and -fallen off from that high character in which I now behold you and -admire. I felt as if I could have forgiven you every thing: and when you -left me for so long a time without a word to soften my despair, I feared -indeed that you was lost for ever,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_263">{263}</a></span> but I did not suspect you to be -cruel. I knew you was offended with Mrs. Jennings, but I was sorry to -find your resentment could be so lasting, and that you would take no -pains to acquit me, who was innocent, and set my mind at rest. Morning -and night I mused upon the words I heard you utter, when, looking on the -portrait of my father, you pledged protection to the orphan who then -lived, as she still does, upon the bounty of your family—Is this the -man (I said within myself) who threw his arms about me, and pressed me -with such rapture to his heart? Was there no meaning in that fond -embrace? Did it sink only into my sad heart? Alas, I hoped that his had -felt it too!—Thus I tormented my poor wretched self, till now, behold! -I am sitting by your side<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_264">{264}</a></span>—Nay; hear me out!—I have not told one -half—</p> - -<p>The expostulation was not out of place, for by some means or other, -(what I know not) our heroine was defrauded of her right to tell the -other half; and whether it was ever told, or not, I hope is no great -object to the reader; for, upon the word and honour of a novelist, I -have no authority, that can decide the question.</p> - -<p>In due time the corpse of Philip De Lancaster arrived and was interred -in the vault with his ancestors. Every member of that antient house -attended the funeral, and several of the intimates and friends of the -family shewed their respect by being present at the solemnity.</p> - -<p>As the parishioners and labouring poor<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_265">{265}</a></span> had no particular reason for -tears and lamentations, they reasonably enough forbore to interrupt the -ceremony, and only gratified their curiosity by gazing on the plumes and -scutcheons and the costly pall and coffin: this did extremely well, and -the cheering horn of fat Welch ale, that was dealt out to quench a -thirst, that was natural to them at all times, and did not spring upon -this occasion from sorrow, did still better. A great company were -regaled in the state apartment’s of the castle, and a mighty mob in the -lower regions.</p> - -<p>Whilst these things were going on, Lawyer Davis, Doctor Llewellyn and -the family-bard old Williams held a special consistory in a private -cell, for the purpose of minuting down the <i>memoranda</i>, proper to be -inserted in the family archives under the article of “Phi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_266">{266}</a></span>lip De -Lancaster Esquire, lineally descended in the male line without a flaw -from Japhet, son of Noah.”</p> - -<p>The bard was to dictate; the Lawyer was to write, and the Doctor was to -smoke his pipe, and make comments. As it was a business not to be -dismissed in a slight perfunctory manner, there was a huge can of -metheglin on the table to assist thought, for the <i>data</i>, that blind -David had to go upon, were rather of the scantiest; and when a -biographer has little or nothing before him, he must depend upon his -wits for matter.</p> - -<p>David opened the consultation by observing, that, before they sate down -to their work, it was correctly in rule to make a libation to the -immortal memory of the excellent person, whose virtues they were about -to record; and he assured himself, that posterity would<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_267">{267}</a></span> peruse the life -and actions of Mr. Philip De Lancaster with peculiar interest and -avidity.</p> - -<p>After they had drank they began to deliberate, and the Doctor suggested, -that the first thing needful was to prove the life, before they narrated -the actions, of Mr. De Lancaster.</p> - -<p>That is already settled, said the Lawyer, by entering, as I have done, -the date of his birth.</p> - -<p>Pardon me, replied the Doctor, that entry is not quite authority, unless -you can show that he was <i>born to die</i>; for in many cases, which I have -met, the death of the object in question has been known to forerun the -birth.</p> - -<p>Here is the date of his death, rejoined the Lawyer, copied from the -plate on his coffin; and by this it appears, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_268">{268}</a></span> he lived to complete -a period of forty-three years, five months and three days.</p> - -<p><i>Sufficit!</i> said Llewellyn; the plate upon his coffin is evidence. Now -let us understand what he employed himself upon during that period.</p> - -<p>A silence ensued for a considerable time. David referred himself to the -metheglin; the other two to meditation on the past events of Philip’s -life, as materials for history.</p> - -<p>He was very fond of angling, said the Lawyer.—He was so, replied the -Doctor, and you may put that down in the archives, only you need not -inform posterity, that he never got a bite.</p> - -<p>Pooh! rejoined Davis, that naturally happened, because he was too -indolent to bait his hook.—He had an acknowledged partiality for the -game of chess.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_269">{269}</a></span></p> - -<p>Yes, and an acknowledged ignorance of it, said the Doctor. I am apt to -think, that it will be perfectly safe to record, that he was six feet -high—</p> - -<p>Wanting half an inch, rejoined the Lawyer.</p> - -<p>Pshaw! exclaimed the Doctor; if you begin to reckon up all that is -<i>wanting</i>, there will be no end to the account.</p> - -<p>David now unmuzzled his oracle, and began to utter—Gentlemen, give me -leave to observe to you, that you wander from the points, that chiefly -constituted the exemplary character of the deceased personage, whose -incomparable qualities we are even now preparing to commemorate. He -possessed, as I can witness, a most laudable respect for the almost -miraculous powers of music: I do not say that Mr. Philip De Lancaster -was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_270">{270}</a></span> skilled in the practice of that sublime art; but I do say, that he -was at the pains of ascending the winding stair-case of my turret, and -of entering my chamber on the top of it, for the benevolent purpose of -employing me to expel the meagrims, or blue devils, as they are called, -from the possession they had taken of his lady, and restoring her to -health and spirits by the healing remedy of dulcet tones, elicited by me -from my harp.</p> - -<p>A fiddlestick for your harp! exclaimed the man of medicine. I tell you, -that its dulcet tones were the very death of his wife. You may take that -from me, friend David, <i>in verbo medici</i>.</p> - -<p>I’ll not take that from you, or any one else, friend or foe, retorted -the enraged musician; and now began an altercation between chemicals and -galeni<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_271">{271}</a></span>cals <i>versus</i> chords and crotchets, which was maintained with -such heat, (both gentlemen being of the principality,) that in the -confusion of tongues all memory of poor Philip’s history was done away, -and to this hour no record, anecdote or account of that unfortunate -gentleman is any where to be found, save only what the historic tool of -the engraver has briefly inscribed upon the lacquered plate, that -ornaments his coffin.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_VIII-c"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> -<i>Our History verges to its Conclusion.—Cornet Roberts arrives at -Penruth Abbey.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">A very</span> few days had elapsed since the event, recorded in our preceding -chapter had taken place, when intelligence reached the castle, that the -young heir of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_272">{272}</a></span> Penruth Abbey had arrived there from Lisbon. The servant, -who brought this news, was the bearer also of a letter from Cornet -Roberts to our hero, signifying that he was charged with a letter from -Major Wilson to his father, which with permission, he would have the -honour of delivering into his hands. The answer of our hero expressed -every thing, that hospitality and politeness could convey; but certain -reasons, still in force, prevailed with him to avoid, for the present at -least, a visit to the abbey. A very short time however brought young -Roberts to the castle, where he was received with all possible -cordiality. He had left his friend the Major on the point of setting out -for the review at Elvas, and as his marriage with Maria Devereux had -taken place, the bride and her father had been invited, and were -preparing to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_273">{273}</a></span> accompany him in the royal suite: in his letter to the -Colonel he announces his intention of coming over to England upon the -close of the campaign, and the family seat in Herefordshire was by order -of Mr. Devereux furnishing and preparing for his reception. Prosperity -had flowed in upon him; promotion awaited him, and every thing seemed -conspiring for his happiness.</p> - -<p>Roberts in the mean time ingratiated himself to every body, old or -young, in the family of De Lancaster, by that modesty of mind and -manners, in which his sudden turn of fortune made no change. He made -frequent short excursions to the Abbey, where he had projected several -considerable works for the occupation and employment of the labouring -poor; but his delicacy never suffered him to ask John De Lancaster to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_274">{274}</a></span> -accompany him. John attended upon him however to the house of old Ap -Rees, when he went to invest him with the annuity settled upon him and -his son. The business was so cautiously introduced, and so delicately -conducted, that it created no very painful agitation on the part of the -old man—I have so deep a sense, said Roberts, of the injuries you have -received from the deceased person, whose property, but not whose -principles, I inherit, that so long as life is granted to me, I will be -the friend of you and all that may belong to you or yours; so be -assured—The venerable minstrel bowed his head; but the sad recollection -of his dear-loved daughter weighed upon his heart, and he was silent.</p> - -<p>This and so many instances like this, occurred to strengthen and confirm -our hero’s high opinion of young Roberts,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_275">{275}</a></span> that in hearts like theirs -acquaintance soon was ripened into friendship; in proof of which it may -not be entirely out of place to record a circumstance, that happened at -the county races. Sir Arthur Floyd, the steward for the year preceding, -had nominated John De Lancaster as his successor in that office, and -when the time came round for his appearing in that character, his -grandfather and friends were of opinion, that he could not handsomely -absent himself. He proposed to Roberts to accompany him, and with some -hesitation he accepted it. At the ordinary John in right of office took -the chair; the cornet, as yet unknown to the gentlemen of the county, in -his riding dress, and out of uniform, attracted very little notice, and -declined all offers of introduction. It had been whispered however<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_276">{276}</a></span> -between some at table, that a near relation of Sir David Ap Owen was -there, present and amongst them. When the glass had gone round briskly, -and Welch blood began to stir, a sporting kind of half gentleman at the -bottom of the table, who had been of the Ap Owen hunt, stood up and in a -loud voice desired to ask a question of the president: leave was -instantly given him from the chair to propose it.</p> - -<p>He was ready enough with his words, and, addressing himself to De -Lancaster, spoke as follows—Mr. President, it is not my good fortune to -possess any great property in this county, but I hold it in as much -honor and respect, as any gentleman here present, being perhaps of as -antient standing, none excepted, not even yourself, Mr. De Lancaster, -whom we are all proud to see at<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_277">{277}</a></span> the head of this table as our steward, -and shall be still prouder to see you there in good time as our -representative.</p> - -<p>A clapping of hands, and a vehement clatter of glasses, ensued—The -speaker as soon as silence was restored, proceeded—Mr. President, I am -sorry to say that a great and grievous disgrace has been cast upon this -country by the infamous conduct of as dire a wretch, as ever went into -his grave unhanged. I mean the late Sir David Ap Owen; I speak out; I am -no slanderer. And now, Mr. President, I am informed, (whether truly or -not you perhaps can tell) that there is a near relation of that wretch, -who has so disgraced us, actually present in this company.</p> - -<p>I am that person, said young Roberts, instantly starting up, and cutting -him short in his oration. I am nephew to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_278">{278}</a></span> the late worthy Sir Owen Ap -Owen, and of course first cousin to the late unworthy heir of his title -and estate. Now, sir, if my presence, gives you on that account any -umbrage, I am ready to leave the company, provided you go with me; for -having the honour to wear the King’s commission, I am not willing to -disgrace it by putting up with an affront from you, or any man alive, -who can prove himself a gentleman.</p> - -<p>Several persons now rose at the same time, and called upon the orator -for an apology, when upon John De Lancaster’s appealing to be heard in -right of office, all were silent and sate down—Gentlemen, he said, I am -persuaded, that a very few words in the way of explanation will set this -matter right, without disturbing the peace of the company, or wounding -the feelings of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_279">{279}</a></span> any person present. It would be hard indeed upon my -friend Mr. Roberts, it would be hard upon me, who am proud to call him -by that name, if, because he inherits the estate of an antient and -respectable family in this county, the guilt of that man, through whose -hands it passed in its descent to him, could be supposed to cast the -slightest stain upon his character: that I am sure was not the purpose -of the gentleman, who was pleased to address himself to me. He spoke -upon the impulse of an honest indignation against one, who is far enough -removed from this assembly, not from the premeditated motive of putting -an affront upon a gentleman, whose company confers an honour, -wheresoever he bestows it. If therefore I conjecture rightly of my -worthy countryman at the other end of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_280">{280}</a></span> the table, I will put it to the -proof by calling upon him to pledge me in a toast, which I will give to -the health and prosperity of our new neighbour, Charles Roberts esquire, -the present heir and owner of Penruth Abbey.</p> - -<p>Instantly, without a moment’s loss, the orator started on his legs, and -having filled his glass to the brim, with a loud voice, directed to Mr. -Roberts, cried amain, that he hoped he would accept of his apology, and -that he drank his health with all his heart. When the toast had gone -round, the young heir of the Ap Owens rose, and having made his -acknowledgments to the company, professed himself perfectly satisfied -with the testimony, which the gentleman, who addressed the president, -had been pleased to give of his good opinion of him. Thus by the -temperate and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_281">{281}</a></span> manly interference of our hero, the spirit of discord, -which for a time had worn so menacing an aspect, was expelled, and -harmony and goodfellowship reinstated in its stead.</p> - -<h3><a id="CHAPTER_IX-c"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> -<i>The History is concluded.</i></h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> John De Lancaster returned to Kray Castle, Edward Wilson -communicated to him a letter, which he had from Anderton, of which the -following is the substance:</p> - -<p class="indd2"> -“Dear Sir!<br /> -</p> - -<p>“Having at length settled all my temporal affairs, nothing remains for -me in this world but to prepare my mind to meet that awful moment, -which<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_282">{282}</a></span> must soon dismiss me from it. I rather think my complaint has -gained upon me, since my residence in London, and the physician, whom I -have consulted, tells me that I must positively lose no time in seeking -out some country-house in a better climate and a purer air. From what -passed between us on our passage, (which, though you may have forgotten, -I never can) I have cherished hopes, that perhaps your benevolence may -induce you to procure for me a situation in your neighbourhood, where I -may enjoy the comfort of your edifying and instructive conversation. -Could I obtain this blessing, it would be all I wish for; I should die -content. If you return a favourable answer, I shall instantly set out, -and I flatter myself that by easy stages I may accomplish the journey: -if on the contrary you reject<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_283">{283}</a></span> my suit, I have only to thank you for -your favours past, resign myself to despair, and bid you everlastingly -farewel.”</p> - -<p>When John De Lancaster had read thus far, he eagerly enquired of Wilson -what answer he had returned to this pitiable appeal. I have told him, -replied Wilson, that I am about to fix my residence in the parish, of -which I am the minister, and as my parsonage house is by the bounty of -your grandfather rendered perfectly commodious, and has the further -recommendation of being situated in a fine air and very beautiful spot, -I shall very gladly receive him in it, and shew him all the attentions -in my power for such time as it may suit him to make use of it.</p> - -<p>The return of the post brought a letter from poor Anderton full of -acknowledgments for the generous offer, which he<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_284">{284}</a></span> most gladly embraced, -and was eagerly employed in preparing for his journey.</p> - -<p>Nothing now remained but to wait the expiration of the time allotted to -the forms of mourning. That interval was not chequered by a single -incident, that could disturb the happiness of our hero, or of any of -those worthy characters, whose story may have gained an interest in the -reader’s wishes.</p> - -<p>Anderton, having slowly crawled through his long length of journey, -arrived at Kray Castle, where Edward Wilson waited for him; and having -lived to see the lovely daughter of his friend in perfect happiness and -high prosperity, retired with Wilson to his calm asylum, where after a -short period profitably employed he closed his days in peace.</p> - -<p>Mr. Devereux, having delivered over<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_285">{285}</a></span> to his son the management of his -concerns in Portugal, came with the Major and Maria to England, and -having paid a visit to the family at Kray Castle, established himself in -his fine old mansion in Herefordshire, in the centre of a noble -property, augmented by purchases and embellished by improvements.</p> - -<p>Colonel Wilson lived to see his beloved Edward, after the decease of -Anderton, married to the amiable and accomplished daughter of Sir Arthur -Floyd. His frequent visits at Sir Arthur’s house, which was within a -very short distance of his own, had naturally given rise to an -attachment, which, when Anderton’s bequest had established him in -affluence, and not till then, he made known, and found his well-placed -passion was returned.</p> - -<p>The good old Morgan kept a gay<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_286">{286}</a></span> heart, and the gout at a distance. -Whilst he was for ever laying out a character for himself, which every -action of his life contradicted, no persuasion could divert him from -ordering new carriages to be built and fine horses to be bought in town -for the purpose of setting out his grandson with a splendid equipage, -that he had no wish for. He bustled over in prodigious haste to Glen -Morgan, as soon as ever the day was named for the wedding, and gave -directions that open house should be kept for three days after that -event took place, and free allowance without stint to all drunken -idlers, that chose to lend a hand to the draining of his cellars.</p> - -<p>When his brother-in-law gravely took him to task, and remonstrated -against these lawless proceedings, as tending to produce nothing but -riot and disorder,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_287">{287}</a></span> he stuck boldly to his text, and would not waver; -contending that it was fit and right the tillers of the soil should -enjoy the produce of the soil, and, if they quarrelled over their cups, -they might fight it out over their cups for what he cared; a few broken -heads would set all to rights; and as for riots and disturbances, if the -county could not keep its own peace, he hoped he was not bound to keep -it for them.</p> - -<p>In the mean time he was not wholly inattentive to his own person, but -found a half-crazed chattering Denbigh tailor to fit him out with a -flaming suit, laced down the seams, like the jacket of a drum-major; and -at the same time provided himself with a most tremendous perriwig, and -long cravat of Brussels lace. He was with difficulty prevented<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_288">{288}</a></span> from -heaping tawdry ornaments and trinkets upon Amelia, that would totally -have destroyed all those charms, which the elegant simplicity of her own -taste knew so much better how to set off and recommend. But the Jew -Lyons exhibited a glittering show-box, and having trapped him into the -purchase of the French watch, that he bestowed upon Amelia, knew the -value of so good a customer.</p> - -<p>Cecilia De Lancaster was the presiding spirit, that kept all things -straight and steady in their course: at her command they moved, by her -discretion they were governed and directed. Under her control joy was -not suffered to run riot, and the vagaries of old Morgan were kept -within bounds: to any other authority but her’s he paid no regard,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_289">{289}</a></span> and -had a way of parrying the railleries of Wilson, and the remonstrances of -De Lancaster.</p> - -<p>That venerable and worthy personage preserved a dignified tranquillity. -A smile sate upon his countenance, and his eyes brightened when he -turned them on Amelia and his grandson. He caused a considerable length -of parchment to be added to his roll of pedigree, for the purpose of -leaving space for the future descendants from John De Lancaster and -Amelia Jones. He put old David upon composing an epithalamium, which -when written down as he dictated it, turned out to be very little -shorter than <i>the Last Lay of the Minstrel</i>. Neither was his own genius -unemployed, for he composed, and was at the pains of writing with his -own hand<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_290">{290}</a></span> a set of maxims, which he intitled <i>rules for domestic -happiness in the married state</i>. They consisted chiefly of truisms, -which he was at the pains of proving; and of errors so obvious, that -examination could not make them clearer. He pointed out so many ways, by -which man and wife must render each other miserable, that he seemed to -have forgot, that the purport of his rules was to make them happy. So -little was this learned work adapted to the object held out in the -title, that, if it had been pasted up for general use on the door of a -church, it may be doubted if any, who had read it, would have entered -there to be married.</p> - -<p>He delivered it however with much solemnity to his grandson—saying to -him—Here is a proof, my dear John, how seriously my thoughts have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_291">{291}</a></span> -employed for your instruction: govern yourself by these rules, and you -will be happy.</p> - -<p>If I govern myself by your example, John made answer, I shall have no -need of rules.</p> - -<p>On the evening preceding the wedding-day, John drew Amelia aside, and -conducting her to the private chamber, which he made his study, produced -a case, which he said contained the family jewels of the De Lancasters -and Morgans, newly set—I have added nothing to them, he said, for I am -fully conscious they can add nothing to you: It is fit however that you -should have them, and wear them, when you see occasion: our friends seem -to wish it, and our fortune fully warrants it. When I shall put this -plain good ring upon your fin<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_292">{292}</a></span>ger to-morrow, and confirm it as the -symbol of our union with an oath before the altar, trifles like these -jewels will have no further value, as the test of my affection: that is -made secure to you, not only by the graces of your person, which -ornaments cannot improve, but also by the virtues of your mind, which -time cannot impair.</p> - -<p class="fint">FINIS.<br /><br /><br /> -Harding and Wright, Printers, St. John’s Square.</p> - -<table style="padding:2%;border:3px dotted gray;" -id="transcrib"> -<tr><th>Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:</th></tr> -<tr><td> - -<p class="c">hands presed=> hands pressed {pg 77}</p> - -<p class="c">with that beolved=> with that beloved {pg 106}</p> - -<p class="c">for these epeated=> for these repeated {pg 107}</p> - -<p class="c">know she is=> know he is {pg 140}</p> - -<p class="c">The hopsitality=> The hospitality {pg 142}</p> - -<p class="c">Did’nt you accept=> Didn’t you accept {pg 195}</p> -</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN DE LANCASTER; VOL. III. ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/69057-h/images/bar.png b/old/69057-h/images/bar.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1febf79..0000000 --- a/old/69057-h/images/bar.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69057-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/69057-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 44c3789..0000000 --- a/old/69057-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
