Know then, said I, that your wife was well acquainted with your
connection with Mrs Gerrarde, from the very night that you found her at
the public house, to which the accident that happened to her obliged her
to go. She owned to me, at the time you drove her from her home, that
she had discovered your amour from a conversation she overheard that
night between you and Mrs Gerrarde. This I extorted from her, by letting
her know I was no stranger to the intrigue. I then repeated to him the
discourse that passed between him and that wicked woman, as far as you
had told me, and he very well remembered it. Now, Mr Arnold, said I, to
prove the assertion I made in regard to your lady, had she reproached
you with your infidelity, as _some_ wives would have done, tho' it might
have occasioned a temporary uneasiness to you both, yet would it have
prevented her from falling a sacrifice to that most artful and wicked of
her sex; for you could not then have had such an improbable falshood
imposed on you, as that Mrs Arnold would have made choice of the
_mistress_ of her husband for a confidant, and fix on _her_ house as the
rendezvous for a love-intrigue. The base woman herself had no reason,
from Mrs Arnold's prudent and gentle behaviour, to think she was
suspected by her.
Your husband lifted up his eyes to heaven; and striking his breast,
Blind, blind wretch, he cried! infatuated, ungrateful monster! are there
no amends--no amends in thy power for such goodness?
I could not bear such a description of my poor Mr Arnold's deep
contrition. I stopped Lady V----; and, being now informed of all I
wanted to know, changed the conversation.
_December 22_
We are preparing to get into the country with all speed. I have writ to
Patty to set out with the two children for Sidney-Castle as soon as
possible. Mr Arnold has put his affairs intirely into the hands of our
worthy friend Lord V----, and we think, upon a calculation, that what we
have in town, at South-Park, and at Arnold-Abbey, will go near to answer
the present demands that are upon us.
Lady V---- is the best creature living; she knows that neither Mr Arnold
nor I chuse to see any visitors, and she has let none in these two days.
I am vexed at laying her under such a restraint, though her good-nature
will not suffer her to think it one. We shall go out of town on Monday;
to-morrow we spend with my mother, as do Lord and Lady V---- (who are
mightily charmed with her), and then adieu to London, perhaps for ever.
If my mother comes down to me, as she intends to do, I shall have no
temptation ever to return to it.
_Sidney-Castle, December 29._
Here I am, my dear, in the house of my nativity. Your Sidney and her
Arnold as happy as a king and a queen! or, to speak more properly,
happier than any king or queen in Christendom. My two dear little
girls are well, thank God! and look charmingly. Poor babes! they could
have no idea of their loss when I left them, yet they now seem pleased
at seeing me again. My faithful Patty is almost out of her wits with
joy. I have no maid but her, and an honest servant, whom my mother
left here to look after her house. Mr Arnold has retained but one of
his men: the garden is taken care of by an old man in the
neighbourhood, to whom my mother allows something for keeping it in
order.
With what delight do I recall the days of my childhood, which I passed
here so happily! You, my dear Cecilia, mix yourself in all my
thoughts; every spot almost brings you fresh into my memory. The
little filbert-wood, the summer-house, the mount, and the
chestnut-close that you used to love so! but the sight of your old
dwelling makes me melancholy. I think I could not bear to go into the
house; the deserted avenue to me appears much darker than it used to
do; and your poor doves are all flying about wild; and I think seem to
mourn the absence of their gentle mistress. Oh! Cecilia, how exquisite
are the pleasures and the pains that those of too nice feelings are
liable to! You, whose sensibility is as strong as mine, know this.
From what trifles do minds of such a turn derive both joy and grief!
Our names, our virgin names, I find cut out on several of the old elm
trees: this conjures up a thousand pleasing ideas, and brings back
those days when we were inseparable. But you are no longer Rivers, nor
I Bidulph. Then I think what I have suffered since I lost that name,
and at how remote a distance you are from me; and I weep like a
child--But away with such reflections: I am now happier, beyond
comparison happier, I think, than I was before my afflictions overtook
me. Mr Arnold's _recovered_ heart I prize infinitely more than I did
when he first made me an offer of it; because I am sure he gives it
now from a thorough conviction that I deserve it, and therefore I am
certain never to have it alienated again.
_January 4_
It is almost three years since I left this place; and the welcomes I
have received from all our old neighbours and acquaintance, have given
me more satisfaction than I can express. Mr Arnold is highly pleased
with the marks of affection which he sees me daily receive from those
who have known me from my infancy. I am the more delighted with it, as I
think it gives me an additional value with him. 'Tis a proof at least
that I never misbehaved during the long number of years that our former
friends knew me, and we must needs be pleased to see the object of our
love approved of by others. This I speak from my own experience. Mr
Arnold is exceedingly caressed by all our friends, and seems equally
delighted with them: you know we have some of the best people in the
world amongst our old set of acquaintance. If you, my mother, and good
Lady V----, were within my reach, I should think Sidney-Castle a
paradise.
_January 10_
I have had two letters to-day; one from Lady V----, the other from my
dear mother. Lady V---- tells me her husband is bustling about for us,
to put affairs in the best condition he can. She says, he has already
got a purchase for the lease of our house in St James's-Street; and all
the moveables in it, as they now stand. They have been valued at two
thousand seven hundred pounds. As most of our plate is there, as well as
our chariot and a pair of horses, this has fallen very short of our
expectations; but Lady V---- says, she is sure there was not more
allowed for the furniture than half their original value, though they
have not been a great while in use. She tells me, that my lord has
employed a person to go down to Arnold-Abbey, to dispose of the things
there; but she fears we shall receive a very indifferent return from
thence, as there is but part of the furniture of Mr Arnold's putting in,
the old goods going together with the house to the widow. My lord's
steward at V---- hall has instructions about South-Park: he writes word
to his lord that he believes the whole of what is there will not sell
for more than four hundred pounds: the house indeed was but small, and
the furniture not expensive. Mrs Gerrarde, he says, has had an
attachment laid on her house by a person who built some bauble for her
in her garden, for which he claims a debt of ninety pounds, though the
steward says it is not worth thirty. 'All things, however, my lady adds,
shall be adjusted in the best manner we can; and my lord will not let Mr
Arnold be distressed on account of any deficiency that may happen in
those sales.' What a jewel, my Cecilia, is an honest, warm friend!
The contents of my mother's letter are, That Sir George was married
yesterday to Lady Sarah P----. She says, the bride was most
extravagantly fine; but looked neither handsome nor genteel. This was
much for my good mother to let drop from her pen; but I know she never
liked Lady Sarah, nor did her ladyship ever treat her with the regard
due to her character, and to the person of one who was to stand in the
close and respectable degree of relationship to her, which my mother now
does. But I believe I have before told you, that the blessings of good
sense and good temper are bestowed but in a moderate degree on Lady
Sarah; and for a woman of quality, Lady V---- tells me (for I have never
seen her), that her breeding is not of the highest form. But you know a
great fortune covers a multitude of imperfections in the eyes of most
people, and I hope her love for my brother will make her a good wife.
_January 23_
I am grown a perfect farmer's wife, and have got a notable dairy: I am
mistress of three cows, I assure you, which more than supply my family;
then I have the best poultry in the country, and my garden flourishes
like Eden. Mr Arnold is such a sportsman that we have more game than we
know what to do with; but his chief pleasure is hunting.
Your little namesake promises to be the greatest beauty in the county.
Dolly, who is a pretty little cherry-cheek, and her father's great
favourite, prates like a parrot. How delightful will be the task of
expanding and forming the minds of these two cherubs! how joyfully and
how thankfully do I look back on the troubled sea which I have passed!
My voyage indeed was not long, but my sufferings were great while they
lasted. I never, since I was married, enjoyed life till now. You know my
match was originally the result of duty to the best of mothers; and
though, if I ever knew my own heart, it was absolutely freed from all
attachment to any other person, yet was it not so devoted to Mr Arnold,
as to have made him my choice preferably to all other men, if I had not
resolved in _this_, as in every other action of my life, to be
determined by those to whom I owed obedience. When I married Mr Arnold,
I esteemed him; a sufficient foundation, in the person of a husband,
whereon to build love. That love, his kindness, and my own gratitude, in
a little produced in my heart; and I will venture to say few wives loved
so well, none better. You know I could never bear to consider love as a
childish divinity, who exercises his power by throwing the heart into
tumultuous raptures: _my_ love, tho' of a more temperate kind, was
sufficiently fervent to make Mr Arnold's coldness towards me alone
capable of wounding my heart most sensibly; but when this coldness was
aggravated by the cruel distrust which he was taught to entertain of me,
the blow indeed became scarce supportable; and I did not till then know
the progress he had made in my affections.
Sorrows, my Cecilia, soften and subdue the mind prodigiously; and I
think my heart was better prepared from its sufferings to receive Mr
Arnold's returning tenderness, than an age of courtship in the gay and
prosperous days of life could have framed it to. I exult in his restored
affections, and love him a thousand times better than ever I did. He
deserves it; I am sure he does: he was led away from me by enchantment;
nothing else could have done it. But the charm is broke, thank heaven!
and I find him now the tenderest, the best of men. Every look, every
word, every action of his life, is expressive of a love next to
adoration. Oh! I should be too happy, if the blessings I now possess
were to be my continued portion in this life! There is, however, but
_one_ about which I can rationally indulge any fears--My mother--Her
years, and her growing infirmities, will not suffer me to hope for her
being long absent from her final place of felicity. You always used to
say I anticipated misfortunes: this event _may_ be farther off than my
anxious fears sometimes suggest to me; so no more of it.
_March 10_
My good Lady V---- writes me word, that all our business is finished.
The whole amount of our effects came but to three thousand four hundred
pounds; our debts (including some charges which have occurred in the
transacting of our affairs) exceeded eight thousand. Our worthy Lord
V---- has paid the whole, and has made himself our only creditor. We
have nothing now, that we can call our own, but my jointure. I do not
reckon upon my mother's bounty to us; our income from her, and the house
we live in, will be Sir George's, whenever it is our misfortune to lose
her. But she tells me she is well, and talks of coming down in about a
fortnight.
_March 11_
I am here in a scene of still life, my dear; and you must now expect to
hear of nothing but such trivial matters as used to be the subject of
our journals when we were both girls, and you lived within a bow-shot of
Sidney-Castle, and saw me every day. The last three months of my life
have glided away like a smooth stream, when there is not a breath of
wind to ruffle it; and after you read the transactions of one day, you
know how I pass all the rest.
I have told you of every-body that came to see me, and all the visits
that I returned: I have given you an account of all our old
acquaintance, and of some new ones. You know what my amusements are, and
what my business. Indeed, what I call business, is my chief pleasure.
You, who are surrounded by the gaieties of a splendid court, had need of
the partiality which I know you have for your Sidney, to desire a
continuation of her insipid narrative. But, I suppose, if I were to tell
you, that, on such a day, my white Guiney-hen brought out a fine brood
of chickens, you might be as well pleased with it, as I should be to
hear from you of the birth of an arch-duchess. Indeed, my Cecilia, there
is such a sameness in my now-tranquil days, that I believe I must have
recourse to telling you my dreams, to furnish out matter of variety.
_March 19_
We have had a wedding to-day in our neighbourhood. Young Main (Patty's
brother) has got a very pretty young gentlewoman, with a fortune of five
thousand pounds. It seems, this pair had been fond of each other from
their childhood; but the girl's fortune put her above her lover's hopes;
however, as he has, for a good while, been in very great business, and
has the reputation of being better skilled in his profession than any
one in the country, he was in hopes, that his character, his mistress's
affection for him, and his own constancy, would have some little weight
with her family. Accordingly he ventured to make his application to the
young woman's brother, at whose disposal she was, her father having been
dead for some years; but he was rejected with scorn, and forbid the
house.
The girl's father, it seems, had been an humourist, and left her the
fortune under a severe restriction; for, if ever she married without her
brother's consent, she was to lose it; so that, in that particular
instance of disposing of her person, she was never to be her own
mistress. In the disposal of her fortune, however, he did not so tie her
up; for after the age of one-and-twenty, she had the power of
bequeathing her fortune by will to whom she pleased.
The brother, who is a very honest man, had no motive, but a regard to
his sister's interest, in refusing poor Mr Main: a man of good fortune
had proposed for her, whom the brother importuned her to accept of; but
she was firm to her first attachment.
The young lover found means to convey a letter to his mistress, in which
he told her, that as he was in circumstances to support her genteelly,
if she would venture to accept of his hand, he would never more bestow a
thought on her fortune. This proposal the prudent young woman declined
on her own part, but advised him to make it to her brother, as she was
not then without suspicions that he wished to retain her fortune in the
family; and that it was only to save appearances he had proposed a match
to her, of which he was sure she would not accept. But in this opinion
she injured him. She thought, however, the experiment might be of use,
in giving the better colour to her marrying afterwards the man whom she
loved.
But it was an ill-judged attempt, and succeeded accordingly: for, if the
brother should have given his consent, he could have no pretence for
withholding her portion; or, if he did so by mutual agreement, his
motive for denying his consent before, must appear too obviously to be a
bad one.
The young people, not considering this sufficiently, resolved to make
the trial; accordingly Mr Main wrote to the brother a very submissive
letter, telling him he would, in the most solemn manner, relinquish all
claim to his sister's fortune, if he would make him happy by consenting
to their marriage; without which, he said, the young lady's regard for
her brother would not suffer her to take such a step.
This letter had no other effect than that of making the brother
extremely angry. He sent a severe message to the young man, to acquaint
him, that he looked upon his proposal as a most injurious affront to his
character; but that he was ready to convince him, and every-body else,
that he had no designs upon his sister's fortune, as he would not refuse
his consent to her marriage with any other man in the country but
himself. This was a thunder-clap to the poor lover: he comforted
himself, however, with the hopes that his mistress's heart would
determine her in his favour, notwithstanding the severity of the
brother.
There had been, it seems, besides this gentleman's not thinking Mr Main
a suitable match for his sister, some old family pique between him and
Mr Main's father.
These transactions happened some time before I came to the country. Just
about that juncture, the poor girl had the misfortune to receive a hurt
in her breast, by falling against the sharp corner of a desk from a
stool, on which she had stood in order to reach down a book that was in
a little case over it. This accident threw her into a fit of illness,
which put a stop to all correspondence between her and her lover.
In this illness, a fever, which was her apparent complaint, was the only
thing to which the physician paid attention, and the hurt in her breast
was not enquired after; so that by the time she was tolerably recovered
from the former, the latter was discovered to be in a very dangerous
way, and required the immediate assistance of a surgeon. You may be sure
poor Main was not the person pitched upon to attend her; another was
called in, of less skill, but not so obnoxious to the family.
By this bungler, she was tortured for near three months; at the end of
which time, through improper treatment, the malady was so far increased,
that the operator declared the breast must be taken off, as the only
possible means of saving her life.
The young gentlewoman's family were all in the greatest affliction; she
herself seemed the only composed person amongst them. She appointed the
day when she was to undergo this severe trial of her fortitude; it was
at the distance of about a week. The surgeon objected to the having it
put off so long, but she was peremptory, and at last prevailed.
On the evening preceding the appointed day, she conjured her brother in
the most earnest manner, to permit Mr Main to be present at the
operation. The brother was unwilling to comply, as he thought it might
very much discompose her, but she was so extremely pressing, that he was
constrained to yield.
The attending surgeon was consulted on the occasion; who having
declared, that he had no objection to Mr Main's being present, that
young man was sent for. He had been quite inconsolable at the accounts
he received, of the dangerous state in which his mistress was, and went
with an aching heart to her brother's house in the morning.
He was introduced into her chamber, where he found the whole chirurgical
apparatus ready. The young woman herself was in her closet, but came out
in a few minutes, with a countenance perfectly serene. She seated
herself in an elbow chair, and desired she might be indulged for a
quarter of an hour, to speak a few words to her brother, before they
proceeded to their work. Her brother was immediately called to her, when
taking him by the hand, she requested him to sit down by her.
You have, said she, been a father to me, since I lost my own; I
acknowlege your tenderness and your care of me with gratitude. I believe
your refusal of me to Mr Main, was from no other motive but your desire
of seeing me matched to a richer man. I therefore freely forgive you
that only act, in which you ever exercised the authority my father gave
you over me. My life, I now apprehend, is in imminent danger, the hazard
nearly equal, whether I do, or do not undergo the operation; but as they
tell me there is a chance in my favour on one side, I am determined to
submit to it.
I put it off to this day, on account of its being my birth-day. I am now
one and twenty, and as the consequences of what I have to go through,
may deprive me of the power of doing what I intended, I have spent this
morning in making my will. You, brother, have an ample fortune; I have
no poor relations; I hope, therefore, I stand justified to the world,
for having made Mr Main my heir. Saying this, she pulled a paper from
under her gown, which she put into her brother's hand, that he might
read it. It was her will, wrote by herself, regularly signed, and
witnessed by two servants of the family.
Sir, said she, turning to the other surgeon, as soon as my brother is
withdrawn, I am ready for you. You may imagine this had various effects
on the different persons concerned. The brother, however displeased he
might have been at this act of his sister's, had too much humanity to
make any animadversions on it at that time. He returned the paper to
his sister without speaking, and retired.
Poor Main, who had stood at the back of her chair, from his first coming
in, had been endeavouring to suppress his tears all the time; but at
this proof of his mistress's tenderness and generosity, it was no longer
in his power to do so, and they burst from him with the utmost violence
of passion.
The other surgeon desired him to compose himself, for that they were
losing time, and the lady would be too much ruffled.
The heroic young woman, with a smiling countenance, begged of him to dry
his eyes: perhaps, said she, I may recover. Then fixing herself firmly
in the chair, she pronounced, with much composure, 'I am ready.' Two
maid servants stood one at each side of her, and the surgeon drew near
to do his painful work. He had uncovered her bosom, and taken off the
dressings, when Mr Main, casting his eyes at her breast, begged he might
have leave to examine it before they proceeded. The other surgeon, with
some indignation, said, his doing so was only an unnecessary delay; and
had already laid hold of his knife, when Mr Main having looked at it,
said, he was of opinion it might be saved, without endangering the
lady's life. The other, with a contemptuous smile, told him, he was
sorry he thought him so ignorant of his profession, and without much
ceremony, putting him aside, was about to proceed to the operation; when
Mr Main laying hold of him, said, that he should never do it in his
presence; adding, with some warmth, that he would engage to make a
perfect cure of it in a month, without the pain or hazard of amputation.
The young lady, who had been an eye-witness of what passed, for she
would not suffer her face to be covered, now thought it proper to
interpose. She told the unfeeling operator, the he might be very sure
she would embrace any distant hope of saving herself from the pain, the
danger, and the loss she must sustain, if he pursued the method he
intended. She was not, however, so irresolute, she said, as to desire
either to avoid or postpone the operation, if it should be found
necessary; but as there was hope given her of a cure without it, she
thought it but reasonable to make the experiment; and should therefore
refer the decision of her case to a third person of skill in the
profession, by whose opinion she would be determined.
The two women servants, who are always professed enemies to chirurgical
operations, readily joined in her sentiments, and saying it was a mortal
sin to cut and hack any christian, they made haste to cover up their
young lady again.
The disappointed surgeon hardly forbore rude language to the women; and
telling Mr Main he would make him know what it was to traduce the skill
of a practitioner of his standing, marched off in a violent passion,
saying to his patient, if she had a mind to kill herself, it was nothing
to him.
The modest young man, delighted to find the case of his beloved not so
desperate as he had supposed it to be, begged she would permit him to
apply some proper dressings to the afflicted part, and conjuring her to
call in the aid of the ablest surgeon that could be procured, took his
leave.
The brother of the lady being apprized of what had passed, lost no time
in sending an express to Bath; and by a very handsome gratuity, induced
a surgeon of great eminence to set out immediately for his house, who
arrived early the next morning. But in the mean time poor Main had like
to have paid dear for his superior skill in his profession. The other
surgeon had no sooner got home, than he sent him a challenge, to meet
him that evening, in a field at some distance from the town. They met;
Main had the good fortune, after wounding, to disarm his antagonist, but
first received himself a dangerous wound.
This accident was kept from the knowledge of his mistress; but on the
arrival of the surgeon from Bath, as he would not take off the
dressings, but in the presence of the person who put them on, it was
thought proper that both Mr Main and the other man should be sent for.
The latter was not by any means in a condition to attend; but the
former, though very ill and feverish, desired that he might be carried
to the house. The Bath surgeon having, in his and the brother's
presence, examined the case, declared it as his opinion, that the
complaint might be removed without amputation; adding, that it was owing
to wrong management that the grievance had gone so far. He consulted
with Main, in the presence of the family, as to his intended method of
treating it for the future; he agreed with him intirely, with regard to
the propriety of it; and having assured the friends of the girl, that he
thought him a skilful and ingenious young man, took his leave, being
obliged to return directly home.
The testimony of this gentleman, whose skill was undoubted, and whose
impartiality must be so too, having never seen any of the parties
concerned in his life before, wrought so much upon the brother, that he
did not hesitate to put his sister under the care of her lover.
Poor Main, though scarce able to leave his bed for some time, was
nevertheless carried to his patient every day, at the hazard of his
life. His skill, his tenderness, and his assiduity, were all exerted in
a particular manner on the present occasion; and in less than five weeks
he had the pleasure to see his mistress restored to perfect health.
The consequence of this incident was very happy for them both; the
brother, exceedingly pleased at his whole behaviour, told him, he was an
honest generous fellow; and since he was convinced it was his sister's
person, and not her fortune he was attached to, he would, with all his
heart, bestow both on him; and accordingly Mr Arnold and I had this day
the satisfaction of seeing this worthy young pair united in marriage.
Patty is not a little delighted at her brother's good fortune. The
honest youth, who has ever since his father's death supported his
mother, and as many of the younger children as were not able to gain
their own livelihood, has now invited his sister Patty to live with him;
but the faithful girl declined the offer; telling her bother, she would
never quit me, while I thought her worthy of my regard.
I look upon myself to be much obliged to her for this, as the station
she is now in, cannot be so advantageous as I hoped to make it, when I
first took her into my service; but I will make up in kindness what may
be wanting in profit. Indeed I consider her rather as a friend than a
servant, and Mr Arnold always treats her with respect.
_March 20_
I am very uneasy at not having it in my power to fulfil my promise to
poor Miss Burchell; but that is a string I dare not as yet touch upon.
Indeed I cannot bear any conversation that leads to the subject.
Whenever Mr Arnold begins to accuse himself for his unhappy conduct, in
relation to Mrs Gerrarde, which he often does, I always stop him, or
turn the discourse to something else. He never speaks of her now, but
with a contemptuous indifference; and is so firmly persuaded that she
went off willingly with Mr Faulkland, that I dare not as yet undeceive
him; which I must necessarily do, should I express even a wish that Mr
Faulkland should repair the niece's wrongs by marriage. Mr Arnold knows
nothing of miss Burchell's affair. I went once so far as to say I had
heard Mr Faulkland formerly liked this young lady. Mr Arnold answered, I
am glad it went no farther than liking; if it had, probably I should not
have been so soon delivered from my thraldom to her aunt. This reply
silenced me; I am exceedingly perplexed about it. Would to Heaven Mr
Faulkland would of himself think of doing the amiable unhappy girl
justice My mother writes me word, that Sir George had informed Mr
Faulkland, by letter, of the success of his project; and that his answer
was full of congratulations, and expressions of joy. He is now in Italy;
but talks of returning to England next summer. He says, he hears
sometimes from Pivet, and that he and his wife live very well together.
My mother says she often sees Miss Burchell, and that she encourages her
with the hope of what may happen when Mr Faulkland comes back. If this
match should ever take place, it would give me most sincere
satisfaction. The girl's family is not contemptible; her fortune is
pretty large, her person lovely; the unfortunate false step she made, is
an entire secret, except to the persons immediately concerned; so that
with regard to the world, her character too is good. Mrs Gerrarde, at
worst, was only her aunt by marriage; but if that circumstance should be
the only rub in her way to happiness, I would sooner declare the whole
affair, and run the risk of Mr Arnold's being let into this ticklish
secret, than be a hindrance to the poor young creature's welfare. This
affair never comes a-cross me, but it makes me sigh. God send a
favourable issue to it!
_March 26_
Alas! my Cecilia, we have received most heavy news! My good lord V----,
that stedfast, that worthy, that best of friends, is no more! He was
preparing to go to V---- hall, three days ago, but was seized with an
apoplexy, as he was coming down stairs to go into his coach, and died
before any assistance could reach him. Oh! we have a severe loss in the
death of this most dear and valuable man!--but why do I mention _our_
loss?--his lady--poor lady V---- is almost distracted--and well she
may--the best of husbands, fathers, every thing! His eldest son, who is
abroad, is sent for home on this melancholy occasion--My poor mother is
afflicted exceedingly: every body that knew him must be so. Mr Arnold
and I have lost more than a father. How _self_ recurs every minute; let
me think of lady V---- again, and not dare to complain on my own
account; but my obligations to him were of such a nature, as claim all
my gratitude to his memory, and all the tears that I have abundantly
shed for him.
Mr Arnold is largely in his debt, we have no room to expect the same
friendship from the present lord V----, that we experienced from his
father.
This circumstance did not occur to me till poor Mr Arnold put me in the
mind of it: my thoughts were too much absorbed in grief, which the death
alone of our friend occasioned. My mother hinted at it too, in her
letter to Mr Arnold; for it was to him she wrote the mournful tidings.
What a dark cloud of sorrow is spread over Sidney-castle! and how this
stroke has imbittered our little domestic joys! But let me not carry my
complainings into presumptuous murmurings. I have lost a sincere and
truly valued friend; but do I not still possess infinite blessings? My
husband, my dear Mr Arnold, my two sweet children, the best of mothers,
and thee, my ever-beloved Cecilia, whom I still call mine, though at
such a distance from me.
Then I comfort myself with reflecting that lady V---- has sons, who, I
hope, will be a blessing to her; that her fortune is affluent, and that
my lord had passed through a well-spent life, to a pretty advanced age.
He was turned of sixty. All these considerations sooth my mind, and I
acknowlege, that, upon the whole, I have, by far, more cause to be
thankful, than to repine.
_March 30_
Lady V----'s journey down to V---- hall having been so fatally
prevented, she is obliged to remain in London. The shock she has
received has brought on her a fit of illness. I find my lord has not
left any ready money; his fortune was large, but as they always lived in
great splendor, he laid none of his income by: the whole sum which he
could command, he laid out for our use. My lady's jointure is pretty
considerable; if it were ten times more, she deserves it. Oh, may her
sons prove worthy of such a parent! The youngest I hear is a very fine
youth. He is come to her from Oxford to comfort her, till the arrival of
his elder brother.
My mother writes me word, that her old friend lady Grimston is dead! She
has left her whole fortune to charitable uses: not a sixpence to either
of her daughters. Poor Mrs Vere! She is content with her little income,
and has no loss of so unnatural a parent, who carried her vindictive
spirit with her to the grave. As for the eldest, she did not stand in
need of any assistance from her; but I own, though I had not great
esteem for lady Grimston, I could not help being shocked at the brutal
behaviour of her son-in-law to her in her last hours. She had never seen
either him or her daughter from the time I told you they had quarrelled;
but when she found herself dying, she sent a message to this favourite
daughter, desiring to see her; her husband, whether out of disregard to
the old lady, or his wife, or both, absolutely refused to let her go. My
mother remarks on this passage in these words, 'Thus was this
unfortunate parent punished in kind, for denying her late husband the
satisfaction of seeing his youngest daughter, when he was in the same
circumstances with herself.'
My mother is nevertheless very much troubled for the death of her old
acquaintance; who, she says, was a valuable woman: she considers her
decease as a memento, which warns her of her own approaching end; for
they were just of an age.
I fear my mother is not well, though she does not say so; for she has
put off her coming to Sidney-castle, without giving me a reason for it.
_April 22_
I thank you, my beloved Cecilia, for your cordial wish. Your opinion,
that all my troubles are at an end, is consonant to your desires, but I
doubt far from the real fact. The young lord V---- is returned home; but
oh! how unlike that honest man, whose title and fortune he inherits! How
deceived were his worthy parents in their hopes of him! he is a stranger
to every sentiment of virtue. I have had a letter this day from my lady
V----, wherein she laments the degeneracy of her son, whom they were
made to believe a pattern of excellence: but the tutor to whom they
entrusted him was as profligate as himself. In short, she says he is
quite a reprobate; she has not the least authority or influence over
him; she laments this, particularly on our account; we are indebted to
him near five thousand pounds, and my lady says, she fears he will press
Mr Arnold. He is profuse, she says, in his expences, without being
generous.
What can we do my dear? There is not the least prospect now of our being
able to pay this money, but by selling the only remaining stake we have
left. Had my lord lived, he made us hope that by his interest he could
procure Mr Arnold some employment which would have enabled him to
discharge this debt at his ease, without our being obliged to strip
ourselves of our all. As we purposed living with the utmost oeconomy,
this might have been accomplished in a few years. This prospect is now
lost to us. We must submit. I have begged of Mr Arnold to think
immediately of selling my jointure, for we have no reason to expect any
lenity from a man of such a character as the present lord V---- is. We
can subsist upon the income, which my mother is so good as to allow us:
it is precarious it is true, but something may happen; I rely on that
providence, who has hitherto protected me.
_April 28_
Lady V----'s apprehensions were but too well founded. We have had a
letter from her son's agent. The debt _must_ be paid; and we are come to
a resolution to sell two hundred and fifty pounds a year. We shall then
have but fifty pounds a year in the world which we can call our own! I
reckon not upon my mother's life, these afflictions I fear will hasten
her departure to another world. From Sir George we have nothing to
expect: he is absorbed in vanity; his new alliances engross him
intirely.
My dear lady V---- writes us word, she will do her utmost to promote Mr
Arnold's interest. She has numerous and powerful friends; and says, she
makes no doubt of obtaining something for him worth his acceptance.
Believe me, my Cecilia, I am not disheartened at this fresh blow. If my
dear Mr Arnold could reconcile himself to it, I could be well contented.
I will not now (though you used to accuse me of it) anticipate
misfortunes; we have still enough for the present to live on decently;
and if my lady V----'s kind endeavours should succeed, we may yet be
happily provided for. I will not let the thought of my mother's death
interfere: let me but calm the anxious fears of my poor Mr Arnold, and
all will be well.
_May 12_
Thank God we have done with the merciless lord V----! his money is to be
paid directly to him. I have recovered my tranquility; I enjoy my little
in peace; and have the comfort to see Mr Arnold's mind more at ease, and
reconciled to his lot. To lady V--'s goodness, as well as my own earnest
endeavours, I impute this. She says, she has the promise of an
honourable and a profitable post for him; but we are to wait some months
for it. The person who is now in possession of this place is to be
preferred to a better, and she says, she has the word of an _honest_ man
on the occasion; 'he is a very _great_ man too, says my lady in her
letter, but as it is on the first part of his character chiefly we are
to depend, I mention the other only by the by.'
Now, my dear, have I not reason to be contented? A thankless heart
should I have if I were not; but I am, indeed, my Cecilia, I am; and I
begin again to be happy. Our domestick felicity was but disturbed for a
while, it was not over-thrown.
Here will I close; I have an opportunity of sending this immediately by
a private hand to my beloved.
[_Here Mrs Arnold's maid Patty continues the journal._]
_May 15_
By my lady's orders I take up the pen; and she has charged me to set
down every particular. God knows I am ill able to do it! but I will
strive to obey her. My poor dear lady is in such trouble, she has not
the heart to write, nor scarcely to do any thing.
My master--Oh! madam, how shall I express myself! my poor master, now he
is so good, we are going, I fear, to lose him: I must write, according
to my lady's custom, every thing in the best order I can.
You cannot think, madam, how happy they have lived together ever since
my lady came home to him again. He seemed to grow fonder and fonder of
her every day; I believe he perfectly adored her, and he had reason.
You know, madam, my lady was always used to a chariot; but they never
attempted keeping one since they came down to Sidney-castle. She asked
my master once, if he had a horse quiet enough for her to venture to
ride on to church? I observed my master turned away his face, and put
his handkerchief to his eyes. I believe he thought of a little favourite
pad that he had given to Mrs Gerrarde. I have not one, my love, said he,
that I would trust you on. You had once a pretty horse that you were
fond of, but my desperate folly has not even left you that; but I will
look out for one that will suit you. No matter, my dear, said my lady
smiling, and taking him by the hand, I will ride double, I think that
will suit me best. Dearest of women! said my master (and he fetched a
deep sigh), when shall I be able to make you amends? He lamented hourly
the loss of his fortune for her sake. What will become of you, my
dearest creature, and my two poor children, said he (when he was obliged
to part with her jointure), if I should die before you; and then he
cried, and wrung his hands. My lady begged of him to put such melancholy
thoughts out of his head, saying, they never disturbed her. I hope,
said she, I shall never see your death; but if it pleases God to punish
me so far, a little, a very little, will content me for the rest of my
days. My master embraced her, and the sweet children; and said, if
heaven spared him life, he would yet be the happiest man in the world.
Many a time have I been witness to such discourse between them; for they
knew my love for them was so great, that they would never scruple
talking of their affairs before me. Oh! madam, I believe there was never
a truer penitent than my master. My dear lady has said to me, since they
were forced to sell her jointure, Patty, though we are now reduced to
little more than two hundred pounds a year, I have much more comfort
than when we had twelve. I have the satisfaction of seeing Mr Arnold
such as I wish him; he is an altered man, Patty; he is truly virtuous,
and I am sure he loves me now from right reason. I am content with the
little that is left us.
I always prayed for her prosperity; but, madam, God is pleased to order
things otherwise than we poor silly mortalls think the best. My lady has
always been good and pious, and I hope he will yet bring her out of her
troubles, tho' they are great and many.
My lady always charged me to be minute, and to write particulars; but,
good madam, excuse the silly way I put my words together. I have not yet
come to the dismal part of my story, and I hardly know how to go on, for
indeed I am forced to break off every now and then to cry. Reason enough
I have, to be sure; but what is _my_ sorrow compared to my lady's!
The day before yesterday my master was asked by some gentlemen in our
neighbourhood to go a hunting: he had no mind to go, for my lady was not
very well, and he was unwilling to leave her; but she persuaded him,
because she knew he loved hunting dearly; she has blamed herself for it
ever since, but she could not know by enchantment what was to happen. He
left my lady in bed, and went out about five o'clock in the morning. At
eight, as my lady was sitting at breakfast, and I attending, the other
maid called me out. Our man, who had gone abroad with my master, was in
the kitchen, and looked as pale as death. I asked him what was the
matter? The poor fellow could hardly speak; but at last said, my master
has got a desperate fall in leaping a ditch, and I am afraid has hurt
his skull: he is lying at farmer Hill's cottage, and one of the
gentleman is rid off for a surgeon; but that is no place for him, we
must get him home: but I thought it best to prepare my lady before she
sees him. My lady rung her bell before I could answer him; I ran in,
but I am sure I looked like a ghost, for my lady started when she saw
me. Bless me! Patty, said she, what is the matter? Has any thing
happened to your master? Not much Madam, said I. He is killed she cried,
and sprung out of her chair. Indeed he is not, Madam, I answered,
standing between her and the door; but he has got a fall, and is a
little hurt. She made me no answer, but flew down stairs, out at the
front door, and down the avenue as quick as an arrow. I ran after her,
and the other servants after me; we could not overtake her; but she was
soon stopped, for she met my poor master borne by four men. I suppose
she thought he was dead, for she fainted away directly, and we carried
her in after him.
My master was put to-bed; he was alive, but not able to speak. He had
got a dreadful cut in his head, and was sadly bruised besides.
As soon as my lady came to herself, we told her my master was not
killed. She went into his room, but had not power to speak, but sat like
a stone statue at his bed-side. The surgeon came in less than half an
hour. I believe he is but a sorry one; for after he had dressed the
wound, he said there was no danger in it. At first we were all in hopes
that it was so; for about two o'clock my master got his speech again; he
complained of sickness at his stomach, and violent pains all over him.
My lady, on hearing him speak, seemed to be rouzed as if out of a deep
sleep. Several of the gentlemen, who had been out with my master, had
come to enquire how he did; and though some of them came into his
chamber, my mistress did not speak, nor seem to regard any of them. The
first word she uttered was to call me; Patty, said she, what is the
reason I do not see Mr Main here? It was my brother she meant, who is a
surgeon; and I believe, madam, she has mentioned him to you, as one that
is reckoned pretty skilful in his business. One of the gentlemen
immediately said, by all means let him be sent for directly. My brother
was soon fetched, and he thought proper to bleed my master in the arm.
He would not take the dressings off his head, as the other surgeon had
declared the skull was not touched; but said, he would be present when
the wound was dressed the next day; and would watch all night by my
master.
My lady was not to be removed from the bed-side, nor could we persuade
her to take any sustenance the whole day. My poor master was in a high
fever all night; and I thought he strove to stifle his groans, that my
lady might not hear them. She did for all that; and I am sure every one
of them was worse than a dagger to her heart. She stole out of the room
several times for a minute, and I could hear her bursting into tears as
soon as she was without side the door; then she would come in again, and
sit by him, till her heart was again so full, she was forced to go out
to give it vent. The whole night passed over in this dismal way.
When my master's head was examined the next day, my brother found that
the skull was not touched where he had received the cut, but that it was
broke in two other places, and in so dangerous a way, that it was
impossible to save his life, as it was not in a part where he could be
trepanned. The other surgeon, who found he had been mistaken at first,
now joined with my brother in opinion that the world could not save my
master's life. Oh! madam, if you had seen my lady when this was declared
to her! I shall never forget her looks. I remember a piece of fine
painting at your house, which I used to hear your family commend
mightily. It was the picture of despair. My lady put me in mind of this
piece; she had the very countenance of it; but I think, if she had then
sat to a painter, he could have made a stronger and more heart-breaking
look even than that picture has.
Such another dismal day and night I believe never was passed in this
house. My brother staid with us, though he could do but little service,
except to watch my poor master, for he was between whiles quite out of
his reason--
No rest did my lady take all last night. She could not be got out of the
room; she has tasted nothing these two days, nor slept a wink these two
nights--She will destroy herself--What will become of us?--I have wrote
to my lady Bidulph, to let her know the deplorable condition we are all
in--My God! what will become of the poor children, if my lady goes on at
this rate! She cannot hold out to be sure, such a load of sorrow at her
heart, without nourishment or sleep--Oh! my good madam, I am not able to
go on with my task--We have not the least hopes in the world--My master
grows worse and worse every hour: he has his reason now, and is sensible
that he is dying. Heaven knows, if I could lay down my life to save his,
how gladly would I do it! I should be no loss, but he will be a grievous
one--
Lord help me! I am not able to go on--I have writ this by bits and
scraps--
[_Mr Main in continuation_].
_May 16, Three o'clock in the Morning._
Mr Arnold had been delirious the greatest part of yesterday; but about
six o'clock in the evening, having come a little to his senses, he was
conscious that he was going fast, and desired that prayers might be read
by him. His lady sent for the minister of the parish, but he was gone to
London: the gentleman whom he had left to do his duty, was taken ill the
night before, and was not able to leave his bed. He sent the messager
that went for him, to another clergyman, who lived about four miles
farther off, to request he would attend in his stead; but he was engaged
on the same duty in his own parish, and could not come, he said, till
next morning. The servant had wasted above two hours on this errand; it
was nine o'clock when he returned. Mr Arnold during this interval had
had several ramblings; but was now again a little composed, though
apparently worse. I whispered the apothecary, who just then came in,
that he could not live 'till morning. Mrs Arnold observed me, and begged
to know what I said. I told her tenderly, that I feared Mr Atkins (that
was the clergyman's name) would arrive too late, if he deferred his
visit 'till next day.
She made me no answer, but seemed to study a little; then went
composedly to Mr Arnold's bed-side. My dear, said she, Mr Downs is
unluckily from home; his assistant is sick in bed; and we cannot tonight
get any other clergyman to visit you: but as you are desirous of
offering up your prayers to Almighty God, I hope it will not be improper
if I read the service for the sick by you. He stretched out his hand
towards her, and said, in a faint, yet eager voice, Do, do, my good
angel! Tears stood in the lady's eyes as she turned from him; but she
quickly wiped them off, and requested of me and the apothecary to join
with her in the solemn office she was going to perform, which she said,
though she was sensible it was an irregular act, yet she hoped, from the
necessity of the case, would be accepted in the sight of God.
She ordered my sister to fetch her a prayer-book; and then kneeled down
at Mr Arnold's bed-side.
Surely nothing ever appeared so graceful; her fine hands and her fine
eyes lifted up to heaven, while the book lay open before her on a little
table. Such a reverential, such an ardent, yet such a mournful
supplication in those fine eyes! She looked like something more than
human! After having in this posture offered up a short petition in
silence, she began the service.
Never did I see true devotion before; the fervor of her looks, and the
tone of her voice was such, you would have thought she beheld her
Creator with her bodily eyes. For my part, I looked on her with such
reverence, that she appeared to me like an angel, interceding for us
poor mortal sinners.
She went through the office with admirable strength of mind (omitting
the exhortation) 'till she came to that part of the prayer, which says,
'yet for as much as in all appearance the time of his dissolution
draweth nigh, &c'. Here her voice faultered, and she stopped; but soon
recovered herself, and proceeded with an unbroken tone to the end. Every
one present wept but herself. She thanked us for our kindness in
staying, and begged we would continue by poor Mr Arnold, while there was
the least possibility of administering any relief to him.
I told her I would most willingly obey her commands, and sit up all the
night with him, though it was not in human power to give him any
assistance.
She repeated her thanks, and then sitting down by the bed-side, remained
composed and silent.
About twelve o'clock, finding Mr Arnold speechless, I entreated her to
retire to her own chamber, and if she could not sleep, to take some
little refreshment; for she had taken nothing that whole day, nor for
the two preceding ones, but a dish of tea which my sister had forced on
her.
Mr Main, said she, suffer me to continue a little longer; my task will
soon be over. I was unwilling to urge her; and she remained sitting in
her place.
About two o'clock, we heard Mr Arnold give a deep groan: He is gone,
said she, and started off her chair. I stepped to his bed-side, and
found indeed he had breathed his last. She snatched up one of his hands
that lay upon the coverlid of the bed, held it for near a minute to her
lips, and then, without any audible token of grief, went out of the
room.