[_Patty in continuation_].
Amen! Amen!--Sure my dear unhappy lady is enough to break one's heart to
see her. I was not able to go on, good madam, and begged of my brother
to set down what happened, and he has put it in better words than I
could. My lady shut herself up for the remainder of the night, and would
not suffer any one to come near her; it is easy to guess how she spent
her time: rest, to be sure, she took none; she could not, if she had
been inclined; for there was no bed in the chamber where she locked
herself up. In the morning, a lady, who is our neighbour, a worthy good
woman, came in her own coach, and took away my lady and the two
children. She neither consented nor refused; but seemed to let us do
what we would with her; for she said nothing, but suffered the lady and
me to lead her down stairs, and put her into the coach. But the sight of
the two children, threw her into such an agony, that I thought I should
have died on the spot only with seeing her.
I have writ again to lady Bidulph: if she is able, to be sure she will
come down; but I had rather she would send for my lady, for this is a
sorrowful place for her to stay in.
_May 20_
My lady has received a message from her mother, desiring her to come to
town directly with the children. She says she is not able to come down
for her, as her health is but bad; and my lady V---- has been so good as
to send down her own coach to carry the little family to town.
My brother has taken the care of my master's funeral upon himself. He is
to be carried to the family burying place at Arnold-Abbey. As soon as
that is over, we must try to get my lady to town; she has no business to
go into her own lonely house again; it would be enough to kill her.
_May 30_
Thank God we have got back safe to London. My lady keeps up wonderfully,
under the load of grief that she has at her heart. She does not complain
nor lament herself, as I have seen some do, who have not been in half
her trouble. She hardly spoke a word during her whole journey, and
strove as much as possible not to cry; but I could observe that she
never turned her eyes on the two little babes, one of whom sat on my
lap, and the other beside me, but the tears ran down her cheeks.
It was a doleful sight, the meeting between her and my lady Bidulph. The
poor old lady grieves sadly, and looks mighty ill: I am afraid she will
not hold out long; she has had great trials, for a lady so far in
years. Sir George came to see my lady; he looked troubled: I hope he
will be good to her.
_June 1_
My lady asked me this morning if I had thought of keeping any journal
for this fortnight past. I told her I had, and she desired to see it.
She shed so many tears while she read it, that the paper was quite wet
when she gave it to me again. She ordered me to make up the packet, and
send it off, as she was not in a condition to add any thing to it
herself.
[_Mrs Arnold in continuation_].
_June 20_
Yes, my dear Cecilia, I have need of the tender condolements, with which
your last packet was filled. Well may you call me a child of affliction;
I am now so exercised in sorrows, that I look forward to nothing else.
Patty, I find, has been a faithful journalist; and has carried down her
melancholy narrative to this day: this day, on which, for the first
time, I have taken a pen in my hand for more than two months; but my
eyes are much better, and I hope I shall not have occasion for the
assistance of her pen, unless some new calamity should again disqualify
me from using my own.
Yet in the midst of my griefs, ought I not to return thanks to heaven,
that I have such an asylum to fly to, as the arms of one of the best of
mothers? Oh! my dear, while I have her, I ought not to say, that I have
lost every thing. Sir George has been more obliging since my fatal loss
than he was before; but still there wants that cordial heart which he
formerly had. As for his lady, I know very little of her. She came to
see me twice since my arrival in town, in all the formal parade of a
state visit. How ill does the vanity of pomp suit with a house of
mourning! Her visits were short, formal, and cold. She seems to be
intolerably proud, and I thought looked as if she was disgusted at
visiting people in lodgings, who were so nearly related to her. My
brother and she are to go down this summer into Scotland, to see a
nobleman who is her uncle by her mother's side. She is ridiculously vain
of her family, and has taught Sir George to be so too; so that now he
hardly vouchsafes to own a relation that is untitled.
_June 21_
Lady V----, whose friendship has been one of the chief resources of
comfort to me, went out of town this morning. She is retired, for life I
fear, to a distant part of Lancashire, in order to spend the rest of her
days with her eldest sister, a widow lady, of whom she is very fond. Her
son's ill behaviour has disgusted her so, she has broke with him
intirely. Her younger son is gone into the army, not, I find, with her
approbation: and she told me, she has nothing now worth living for, at
least nothing for which she should subject herself to the cares of life.
She insisted on my corresponding with her; and renewed her assurances of
that kind attachment, which I have already so strongly experienced.
At another time the loss of this dear woman's society would have
affected me more sensibly; but I am so inured to disappointment and
grief, that I am almost become a stoic.
Patty has already informed you, that Miss Burchell is often with us; she
is more sollicitous, more assiduous than ever in her attendance on my
mother. I find she even sat up with her two nights, on an illness which
seized her on her first hearing the news of my misfortune. Poor girl! My
mother tells me she went so far as to express her apprehensions on my
being again single; but my mother quieted her fears on that head (not
without a soft reprimand for her doubting), by putting her in mind, that
besides the circumstances not being altered in regard to her, she had
received my solemn promise, that, whenever it was in my power, I would
use my whole influence (whatever that might be) in her favour. I did
make her such a promise, and shall fulfil it to the utmost.
Mr Faulkland's absence from the kingdom hitherto put it out of my power;
nor would I, without my beloved Mr Arnold's participation, have ever
attempted it. Had he lived, fully restored as I was to his confidence
and good opinion, I should have ventured to disclose the secret to him,
and got him to join with me in such measures, as I should have thought
best for Miss Burchell's happiness. It now rests upon myself alone, and
I will leave nothing unattempted to serve her.
_June 22_
You will be surprized perhaps, my Cecilia, when I tell you that Mr
Faulkland is now in England. Miss Burchell told me so this day. She
mentioned it in a careless manner, rather directing her discourse to my
mother. She had too much delicacy to hint at consequences of any kind
from this circumstance, and quickly turned from the subject. My mother
asked her impatiently, when he came; where he was; and several other
questions; to none of which she could give any answer, but that she
heard he had been returned above three months and was at his seat in
Hertfordshire. I am surprized Sir George never mentioned this to me: to
be sure he knew it; he is not extremely nice in his notions; however,
this is a decorum for which I am obliged to him. Lady V---- doubtless
was ignorant of it, or she would have told me.
There is nothing now to prevent me from warmly interfering for Miss
Burchell. Charming young woman! how is she to be pitied! The tedious
years of suspence, of almost hopeless love, that she has passed, deserve
a recompence; and her little boy, my mother tells me, is a lovely
creature. Miss Burchell brought him once to see my mother; Mr
Faulkland's former house-keeper visits the child often, and has brought
his mother frequent and large supplies for his use.
I told Miss Burchell, at parting to-day, that I had not forgot my
promise; and that, as soon as decency would permit, nothing should
hinder me from being a most strenuous advocate for her. She squeezed my
hand, and whispered, dear madam, my fate is in your power!
I would it were, then should she soon be happy. But I will acquit myself
as far as I am able.
_June 23_
I was prevailed on to dine at my brother's to-day, the first time that I
have been abroad ever since I came to town. I had no mind to go; but my
mother, not being well, had excused herself; and she said, it would be
taken amiss if I did so too, lady Sarah herself having made the
invitation. Her ladyship said, I need not be fearful of meeting
strangers at her house, as it was to be a private day. So much the
better, thought I; nothing else should induce me to go.
It was the first time I ever was in Sir George's house, which is a very
magnificent one, within a door or two of Mr Faulkland's, in St
James's-Square, as lady Sarah did not approve of that which he had
before. But, my dear, the ostentation of this woman made me sick; such a
parade of grandeur, such an unnecessary display of state and splendor, I
thought, looked like an insult upon me. I was carried into a most
sumptuous drawing-room; but as this was a private day, as she called
it, the furniture was all covered up with body-cloths; and the room,
having been newly washed, felt extremely cold.
I was told her ladyship was dressing, though it was then, as I imagined,
her dinner-time. After I had shivered here for about half an hour, lady
Sarah's woman came to desire me to walk up stairs. As the woman did not
know me, and, from the little ceremony she saw me treated with,
concluded I was some humble visitor, she took me up the back stairs to
her lady's dressing-room, where I found lady Sarah, who was not yet half
dressed, in consultation with her millener. The woman was trying some
head-dresses on her before the glass. She made me a very slight apology
for having kept me waiting so long; and, to mend the matter, told me, as
she was not near ready, if I chose looking at the house, I should have
time enough to do it before dinner. I thanked her; but said, I had
already sat so long in the cold, that I felt myself chilled; and, with
her ladyship's permission, would place myself at her fire-side till
dinner was ready. She asked her woman, carelessly, why I had not been
shewn into the dining-parlour. She then turned to her millener again, to
whom she gave a particular charge to have a suit of very rich point,
which she had fixed on, done up for her against the next night; by which
I found my sister was going to throw off her mourning intirely; that
which she had on being so slight, that it was scarcely to be
distinguished for such.
My brother entered the room while she was thus employed; and having
saluted me, looked at his watch, and asked lady Sarah, had she ordered
dinner later than usual? She told him, she had ordered it half an hour
later than ordinary, as she had a mind to make a long morning, having
dedicated it to trades-people, with whom she had a hundred things to
settle. My brother cast a side-glance at me: I thought he looked a
little abashed at the impertinence and ill-breeding of his wife.
Lady Sarah had by this time huddled on her cloaths: a laced footman
appeared at the door, who summoned us, by a silent bow, to dinner.
The millener gathered up her frippery, and put them into a band-box;
telling her, she would wait on her ladyship again. Lady Sarah answered,
You have got a monstrous way to go, Mrs--(I forget the name); and, as I
have not half done with you yet, you may stay and dine here, as we are
alone, and I will look over the rest of the things in the evening, as I
shall not have another leisure day while I am in town.
This was going a little too far: Sir George felt it. I believe, lady
Sarah, said he, this gentlewoman has a coach waiting for her at the door
(he had seen it, for he was but just come in); perhaps it may be
inconvenient to detain her: she may leave the things, and call another
time. The woman took the hint, though she before seemed inclined to
accept of the honour lady Sarah had done her. She made her curt'sey, and
withdrew. As this, however, had brought on a variety of fresh
instructions, it detained us so long, that the dinner was quite cold;
nor was our repast, had it even been warm, by any means answerable to
the elegance of the service, the superb sideboard, and the number of
attendants. In short, the dinner was composed of a parcel of tossed-up
dishes, that looked like the fragments of a feast. You know there is
nobody more indifferent to the pleasures of the table than I am; yet I
own that this, joined to the rest of this foolish woman's behaviour,
nettled me extremely. There was such a mixture of sordidness and vanity
in the whole apparatus, as made it truly contemptible.
I made haste to put an end to my visit, as soon as I possibly could
after dinner, with a resolution never to repeat it.
From these few sketches of lady Sarah, you may form some kind of an idea
of what sort of creature it is. I should pity Sir George, but that I
think her disposition is not extremely opposite to his own.
_June 24_
I am told that the widow Arnold is actually married to that vile
attorney who was the contriver, and more than partner, in her
iniquity. I am really glad she has lost the name of a family to which
she was a disgrace. Every-body now believes that I and my children
have been greatly injured; but how unavailing is compassion; it only
mortifies, when it is expressed by the pitying words and looks of
people, who have it neither in their power nor inclination to assist
you. This Mrs Arnold, bad as she is, is visited and caressed. Favour
always follows the fortunate.
_June 25_
This day Sir George and his lady set out for Scotland. He came to
take his leave of us; but made an apology for lady Sarah, whose hurry
would not permit her to call on us. My brother says, they shall stay
some months at her uncle's, Lord K----. He told me, at parting, he
should write to me as soon as he got to his journey's end, having
something very particular to say to me.
_July 7_
I have read over my journal of the last fortnight, and am startled to
think what a poor insignificant being I am! Not a single act worth
recording, even to _you_. My whole life perhaps may have passed so; yet
one is apt to fancy, that they are doing something of importance, while
they are engaged in the little bustle of the world, be it in ever so
trifling a manner; and when you find you have a variety of incidents to
relate, in which you yourself were concerned, that your time has not
been spent in vain. But for these last fourteen days, had I kept a
journal for my cat, I think I should have had as much to say for her.
_July 8_
I shall grow busy again: I have received the promised letter from Sir
George; an extraordinary one it is: but I will not anticipate the
contents; read them yourself.