brought forward his former errors in array against him, his debts, his
dissipations, and his love of play; and though she expressed her
readiness to believe him reformed, still, as he ingenuously admitted
that his improvement was chiefly owing to my influence over him, she
could not deem it sufficiently well-founded to obviate her objections;
and he was still pleading, and she objecting, when Mr. Pendarves
insisted on entering. Mrs. Nelson and I accompanied him.
"I tell you what, niece," said he, "you do not use this young man well:
you bring up a parcel of old tales, and dwell upon the naughtiness of
them, as if he was the only young man who ever erred. I know all his
sins; he has made me his confessor. In the affair to which you allude he
was much more to be pitied than censured, and yielded at seventeen to
temptations which might have overcome seven-and-thirty. Since then he
has distinguished himself at college: he has paid all his old debts, and
incurred no new ones; he has steered clear of the quicksands of foreign
travel, shielded (as he says) by the hopes of one day possessing Helen,
and by the idea that he was the object of her love; and what would you
have more? Besides, Helen tells me he once saved her life."
"I did so," cried Seymour, eagerly seizing her hands, "I did so, and you
promised to be for ever grateful!"
"How was it, my dear nephew?"
"_I_ will tell you, sir," cried I, gathering hope from my mother's
agitation. "It was at the Isle of Wight, soon after we came to England:
he and I were playing on the shore, and I, not knowing the tide was
coming in, paddled across a run of water to what I called a pretty
little island, and there amused myself with picking up sea-weed, when
the sea flowed in, and he saw that I must perish; no one was near us.
Luckily, he spied a boat on the dry land, which, with all his boyish
strength, he pushed off to my assistance, and jumped into it. In one
minute more it floated towards me, just as my cries had reached the ears
of my mother, who was reading on the rock, and who now saw my
situation."
"Helen! Helen!" cried my mother, "I can't bear it--the scene was too
horrible to recall." But I persevered.
"Seymour seized my hand just as I was sinking, and dragged me into the
boat; but in another moment the waves came swelling round us, and,
without oar or help, I and my preserver were both tossed to and fro upon
the ocean."
"Helen!" cried Seymour, with great feeling, and clasping me fondly to
his heart, "I could almost wish we then had died, for then we should
have died together!"
"Go on," said my uncle, "I hope you will live together yet!"
"I have not much more to tell, except that my mother's screams had now
procured assistance, and a boat was sent out to follow our uncertain
course. When we were overtaken, they found Seymour holding me on his
lap, and crying over me in agony unutterable, for he thought that I was
dead, and he had come too late. Who can paint my mother's transports,
when she received me safe and living in her arms?"
"And how she embraced me, Helen," cried Seymour, "and called me her
noble boy--the preserver of her child! (for she saw all I had done;) and
how she owned she should ever love me as her own child--and vowed her
gratitude should end but with her life!"
"It never _will_ end but with my life!" cried my mother, throwing
herself on Seymour's neck. "But is your having saved my child's life an
argument for my authorizing you to risk the happiness of that life?"
"Julia, Julia, I am _ashamed_ of you!" cried my uncle. "Was there ever a
better or more devoted wife than yourself? Yet, what did you do at
Helen's age? You ran away from your parents, out of an ungovernable
passion for a handsome young man."
"But is my error an excuse or justification of his?"
"No; but you are a proof that error can be atoned for and never
repeated, as you have been a model for wives and mothers. But beware,
Mrs. Pendarves, of carrying things too far; beware, lest you tempt Helen
and Seymour to copy your example, rather than conform to your
precepts."
"Ha!" cried my mother, clasping her hands in agony.
"Now, then," said Seymour, with every symptom of deep emotion, "the
moment is come when I am authorized to obey the commands of the beloved
dead, and fulfil the last injunctions of my mother."
A pause which no one seemed inclined to break, followed this unexpected
observation; and Seymour, taking a letter from his bosom, kissed it, and
presented it to my mother.
"'Tis Helen's hand," cried she.
"And her seal, too, you observe," said Seymour: "the _envelope_, you
perceive, is addressed to me, and I have therefore broken it; the other
is entire."
My mother read the _envelope_ to herself, and these were its contents:--
"My conscience reproaches me, my beloved son, with having too
lightly surrendered your rights, and probably your wishes, in
giving my friend back her promise to promote your union with her
daughter, as I know Julia's ability to act up to her strict sense
of a mother's duty, even at the expense of her own happiness, and
risk of her child's safety. But I have given up that promise, which
might have pleaded for you, my poor child! when I was no more, and
ensured to you opportunities of securing Helen's affections, which
may now, perhaps, be for ever denied to you. However, I may be
mistaken; therefore, if Helen's affections should ever be
_yours_--_avowedly_ yours, and her mother still withhold her
consent, give her the enclosed letter, and probably the voice of
the dead may have more power over her than that of the living.
"For your sake I have thus written, with a trembling hand, and with
a dying pulse; but value it as a last proof of that affection which
can end only with my life.
"HELEN PENDARVES."
The letter to my mother was as follows:--
"I speak to you from the grave, my dearest Julia! and in behalf of
that child on whom my soul doted while on earth. But this letter
will not be given you till he is _assured_ he possesses the heart
of your daughter; and when, if your consent is denied to their
union, nothing but an act of disobedience can make them happy in
each other. Are you prepared, Julia, to expose them to such a
risk, and thus tempt the child you love to the crime of
disobedience? that crime which, though it dwelt but lightly on your
mind, weighed upon mine through the whole of my existence, as it
helped to plunge my mother in an untimely tomb. Perhaps you flatter
yourself that Helen's education has fortified her against indulging
her passion at the expense of her duty. But remember, that your
precepts are forcibly counteracted by your example.
"Anxious, however, as I am that Helen should not err, I am still
more anxious that my son should not lead her into error, as I feel
that he is doubly armed against her filial piety, by the example of
her mother and his own.
"And must my crime be thus perpetuated by those whom I hold most
dear? must the misery of my life be renewed, perhaps, in that of
her whom I have loved as my own child? and must my son be the cause
of wretchedness to the dearest of my friends, through the medium of
her daughter?
"Forbid it Heaven! I conjure you, my beloved Julia! by our past
love--by _tanta fede, e si, dolce memorie, e si lungo costume_,
listen to this my warning, my supplicating voice; and let your
consent give dignity and happiness to the union of our children.
"HELEN PENDARVES."
My mother, after having read this letter, covered her face with her
hands, and rushed out of the room. It was in a state of anxious suspense
that we awaited her return. When she appeared, her eyes were swelled,
but her countenance was calm, her look resigned, and her deportment, as
usual, dignified. Her assumed composure, however, failed again, when her
eyes met those of Pendarves.
"My son!" cried she, opening her arms to him, into which Seymour threw
himself, as much affected as she was; then, beckoning me to her, she put
my hand in his, and prayed God to bless our union.
Little of this part of my life remains to be told. My mother had given
her consent, and in two months from that period we were MARRIED.
Here ends my narrative of a WOMAN'S LOVE. When next I treat of it, it
will be as united to a WIFE'S DUTY.