_Memoirs of the Flint Family continued._
It was soon after this little event that my enjoyments were augmented
by the arrival of Mr. Howard, who served the parish of Tarefield as
curate to Mr. Snughead's predecessor, and who took up his residence
as a boarder and lodger at Mr. Wilson's. Few circumstances could have
more elated my spirits. The most intimate friendship had united us at
Oxford. We were of the same College, and had enjoyed the instructions,
and the good opinion of the same respectable tutor. Howard was my
senior, and unquestionably my superior in learning: I had experienced
the advantages resulting from this circumstance; for his attainments
were a fund on which I drew for my own benefit. The external graces
of this young man corresponded with the endowments of his mind; and
the elegant scholar and unaffected gentleman was distinguished at the
university, as the handsomest man there.
Comliness in form and feature, was the hereditary donation which Howard
had received from his family, with its high pretensions to ancient
splendour and honours. Fortune had so sunk its prosperity, that his
father had earned his bread by his sword; and on his death, in the
field of battle, left to his young widow, with a small life annuity,
and a pension from government, this only child, then an infant at
the breast. The spirit of Howard animated the partner of his adverse
fortune; she devoted herself to the care of her son; but with anxious
solicitude implanted in him her own sentiments in regard to a military
life; and by a rigid oeconomy, and the sacrifice of her own comforts,
she was enabled to place him in a profession, which united the ideas
of honour and safety for him, with peace of mind to herself. To
invite a guest to my father's table, was not amongst the privileges
which I enjoyed at Tarefield. Satisfied by finding myself received at
Mr. Wilson's with hospitality, and the frankness so inherent in the
mind of this worthy man, I neither regretted the apparently uncivil
omission which rendered my friend a stranger to my home, nor wished
to see him received there. Mary, approaching to her eighteenth year,
was a dangerous object for Howard's sensibility; and he was formed to
please her. These precautions of prudence and consideration settled my
mode of conduct during the first week or two of Howard's residence;
but nothing was talked of at the hall but "the _handsome curate_,"
"the _fine preacher_," who was come to Tarefield. My father, never
a punctual church-goer, and who had been long disgusted by the old
curate's Yorkshire dialect, and his ignorance, to which was unluckily
added, his not playing either at cribbage or back-gammon, had, when
disposed to say his prayers in a church, preferred that in the next
parish, now in the hands, as it was then, of Mr. Greenwood; who
was also a friend of Mr. Howard's, and who had been the principal
inducement for his acceptance of the curacy of Tarefield. I was called
upon for my report of my friend's merits, and truth dictated my answer.
"It is very strange you never mentioned his arrival," observed Miss
Flint; "your friend must entertain a poor opinion of the hospitality
of Tarefield-hall from the neglect he has received from us. It is
rather odd, that he should not have called on your father; such an
attention would have been proper; but I suppose he was prevented."
This remark was not intended to fall to the ground; and contrary to
my usual custom, I took care it should not. "It has never been a
question," replied I, "between Howard and myself, under which of our
roofs we should enjoy each others society. I neither invited, nor
repulsed his appearance here; for he never mentioned the subject: if he
had, I should have told him, that his introduction did not depend upon
_me_. My father sees no company; and I should not have presumed to ask
to his table, a _guest_, who had no better title to his notice than
being my _friend_."--"I am not unwilling, Percival," said my father,
"to receive him with that _title_, whatever you may think, provided
I can understand him better than the last dunderhead that was here.
Does Howard play back-gammon?" I could only answer for the purity of
his English, and his cheerful temper. The conference concluded by my
being desired to engage Mr. Howard and Mr. Greenwood to dine at the
hall on the following Sunday. Nearly a week's penance was softened to
Miss Flint by the preparations needful for the expected guests. To the
important concerns of the table were superadded those which regarded
her personal decorations; for, as she observed, she had lived such a
recluse, that she was hardly fit to be seen by a gentleman.
From the day of this visit, Tarefield experienced unknown delights.
My father found the curate an excellent hand at back-gammon, "when he
minded what he was doing." The honey of Hybla was on Miss Lucretia's
lips; and her smiles were the signal for every one's merriment. My
father became good humoured, and of course less the invalid. He
now thought himself equal to a journey to London, which he had long
meditated, and which he considered as indispensibly necessary to his
affairs. My sister earnestly seconded his intention, _demonstrating_
that he would be the better for a change of scene, and the exercise
it would give him. "Take your _pet_ with you," added she with a
gracious nod, "shew her London for a month, and you will return home
a young man, and leave behind you those habits of retirement, which
have contributed more to make you an old one than either your years
or your infirmities." My father observed that he should have too much
business on his hands to permit him to shew Mary "the lions," but that
the ensuing winter, it was probable, he should pass some weeks in
London, and carry with him his whole family. Miss Lucretia's logic had
been too conclusive to be recanted; and she saw my father depart for
London without his _pet_. Hope however, remained at Tarefield, and so
whispered success, that this defeat was apparently forgotten in new
expedients. These were of that sort which it was impossible for poor
Howard to overlook or mistake. He confessed his embarrassment to me;
and with that integrity of mind which marked his course through life,
he declared his love for my angelic Mary. I did not forget my duty,
Miss Cowley, although I well knew there was not a man on earth better
qualified to be her protector and to render her happy. I failed not to
place before my friend the insuperable obstacles which would oppose
his wishes, from his want of fortune, and from the influence of the
disappointed, and already too envious sister. I pointed out to him the
necessity of his being less frequently at the hall, and pleaded Mary's
peace as endangered by his persisting in a passion so calculated to
reach her innocent bosom. Mr. Greenwood engaged to do his parochial
duty for him for a month; in which time my father would be at home,
and a more guarded intercourse could be established. Mary affected
no concealments with me on the subject of her dejection when Howard
left us. Love had made her quick-sighted; and attributing my friend's
absence to its true cause, she lamented Miss Lucretia's folly as the
only impediment to her happiness, "being certain that no father could
reject such a man as Mr. Howard."
I will not prolong my narrative with the arguments which you will
naturally suppose I urged against this fond and fallacious belief. Her
tears subdued much more than her promises satisfied me, although she
repeatedly engaged "to act with a prudence which I should approve;
to wait patiently for _years_; never to cause the least vexation
to her dear father, and even to avoid offending her sister by an
acknowledgment of Howard's preference." All was easy! time would
do every thing for Mary, except to render her indifferent to Mr.
Howard! I promised to be neuter, and I kept my word. The lovers,
as it will appear, found an expedient to keep up a correspondence,
without implicating my honour, or alarming my vigilance. My father's
unaccountable detention in London was forgotten by the curate's return,
and unable to resist the attraction which drew him to the hall, poor
Howard accelerated those measures which it had cost him so many hours
of privation to retard. He was present when my father's letter to Miss
Flint announced his marriage, with orders to prepare the house for the
reception of its new mistress. Our astonishment at this intelligence
was succeeded by our cares for Lucretia, who from fury, sunk into
violent fits. When restored to more composure, she hung faintly on
Howard's arm, and said, "Be not discouraged, my dear Howard! I will
convince my father that I have as good a right as himself to be happy.
Let the minx whom he has married, be his slave. My duty shall be
devoted to a husband, who will not disgrace his family.--He shall,
Howard, consent to the justice of my demand. I will force him to be
generous; you shall have no reason to complain of fortune!" Poor
Howard, sinking with confusion and unable to speak, was relieved by my
calling him to assist me. Mary, who in stupid silence had witnessed
this scene, fainted; and he was permitted to retire, after having
assisted me in conveying her to her room.
You need not be informed, Madam, that in Lady Maclairn's now faded form
we beheld the beauteous bride whom my father, in a few days, presented
to his children. The more attractive charms of her youth may still be
traced in the modest and pensive expression of her countenance. She was
extremely agitated on her first appearance, and seemed intimidated to a
painful degree. Her brother, Mr. Flamall, accompanied her to the Hall;
and by an affected gaiety, endeavoured to encourage his sister, and to
recommend himself. Her manners succeeded much better to reconcile us to
the _stepmother_. A quiet melancholy, a mild and endearing attention
to every one around her, indicated the sweetness of her temper, and
the authority by which she had been compelled to marry a man of
seventy. For some days Miss Flint refused to quit her room. My father's
resentment was appeased by his gentle help-mate; and she entreated him
to assure his daughter, that she neither meant to interfere in her
management of his family, nor to lessen her influence. "Tell Miss
Flint," added she, "that my office in this house will be confined to
my duty, as it regards your ease and comfort; and that in order to be
happy myself, it is incumbent upon me to render your children so. I
come not as a rival, but as a friend, to this abode." She looked at
us with emotion, and a tear escaped. Some concessions produced the
submission which my father wished for; a general amnesty took place,
and Mr. Flamall so entirely diverted Miss Flint's resentments, that,
to my astonishment, she was obsequiously polite to Mrs. Flint. Howard
paid his visit of ceremony; my father received him with his usual
cordiality; but his general absence was unnoticed. Flamall played at
back-gammon with my father, and his young wife engaged his attention.
A hasty call from time to time prevented curiosity or enquiry; and
I secretly rejoiced that Howard was less in Mary's sight. She was
every day more pleased with my father's choice; and considering her
as the victim of a brother's interested views, she loved her as
being unfortunate, and approached her by a sympathy apparently well
understood.
Amiable and uniformly correct as Mrs. Flint's conduct was, you will
not be surprised, that I endeavoured, not only as a son, but _as a
gentleman_, to shew her that respect and those attentions to which she
was entitled. She loved reading, and my library was hers. Sometimes she
would steal an hour from her tiresome duties, and with her needle-work
join Mary; and I read to them. She loved flowers and plants; and I
became diligent in the culture of them. My father was pleased with this
acquiescence on my part, and one morning he asked whether I was not
satisfied that he had augmented his comforts. I replied with sincerity,
saying that I had no doubt of it; and that I was also convinced,
that in his wife Mary would find a guide and a friend. "So I think,"
returned he smiling, "I saw from the first hour that they would suit
each other." A few weeks passed in peace and comfort, when suddenly my
father relapsed into ill-humour, and was still more harsh and abrupt
with me than ever. Stung by some rudeness of this sort, I asked him
what had offended him. "Your conduct," said he roughly. "I do not want
you to make love to my wife."--"I am sorry," answered I, "that you so
little understand me, Sir; you make me wretched by your suspicions, and
injure a woman whom I believe to be truly virtuous."--"I believe her
so," returned he, "but I want no rival under my roof." He left me. I
was confounded and astonished beyond conception, and in my road to my
friend Howard's, which I instantly took, I endeavoured by recalling
my most indifferent actions, to find a clew by which to unravel this
unaccountable jealousy which my father had shewn. Conscious that I
had never in the most remote manner, either experienced or discovered
a sentiment beyond that good-will and respect which my actions had
evinced, I mentioned, in the course of my conversation with Howard, an
incident of a recent date, which at the moment struck me, and which
then appeared to explain, in some sort, my father's ill-humour, though
not his suspicions.
Mrs. Flint, at the breakfast-table, a few days before, had, with
cheerfulness, reminded my father of a promise he had made her in town.
"He told me," said she, smiling on my sisters, "that you would like
current coin better than fashionable tinsel; and thus prevented me from
adding to the incumbrances of band-boxes; but he must keep his word,
and enable me to acquit myself handsomely; otherwise, if you will help
me, we will pick his pocket now, for I know we shall meet with a good
booty." The poor fond old man kissed her, and said she could do what
she pleased with him without assistance. She blushed with genuine
modesty, took the offered purse, and gratefully gave us each a twenty
pound note. I thought at the moment that my father's brow clouded;
and I believe she thought so likewise, for, with a sweet smile, she
thanked him for his goodness to her. I received, however, my gift
with a bow of acknowledgment, not unmixed with the painful idea of my
dependance. Howard listened to this little account; but he informed
me that Mary had mentioned to him a conversation she had accidentally
heard before the wedding gift was mentioned; and that from what had
passed between Miss Flint and her maid, she was certain her father
suspected the motives of my civilities to the young mother-in-law. Let
it suffice, Madam, I determined to leave Tarefield; nor did my friend
Howard endeavour to oppose my resolution. He saw that it was impossible
I could live at the hall, and that my health and talents were sinking
under the continual checks imposed on my activity and spirits.
He solemnly engaged to watch over the only object of my tender regrets,
and to maintain his pretentions to her at the point of his life; to
guard her as a sacred deposit left in his hands, and never to urge her
to commit an act that I could not approve. I knew Howard, Miss Cowley,
and I was satisfied. The remainder of the day was given to my secret
preparations, and the following morning I was on the road to London;
my good father's wedding gift in my purse, and my blessed mother's
pocket-book in my bosom. Providence indeed was my guide! for I found a
brother in Mr. Heartley, who had recently married the amiable lady you
have heard villified at Tarefield-hall. Their union had been delayed
from motives of prudence. A patron of merit appeared, and Heartley gave
up the possession of the law for a post in the War-office. My friend
succeeded in getting me a lieutenancy of marines; and with Heartley's
management, my dear mother's dying gift was like the widow's cruise of
oil. During my detention in town I received letters from Howard and my
sister Mary. I copy a part of my friend's; these are its contents;--
"Love, my dear Percival, had supplied to our ingenuity a friend not
more secret than yourself, but much more tractable and convenient.
The hollow oak at the avenue gate received our letters from the time
your prudence refused the office. I wrote to my beloved girl the
whole detail of our conversation the day preceding your departure,
and depositing it in the wonted place, hastened to pay my morning
visit at the hall." I was prepared for the question, 'Did I know what
was become of you?' I answered to the point. You had been with me
the day before, and had mentioned your intention of setting out for
London as that morning.--'I told you, Sir,' cried Miss Flint, giving
me a significant look, 'that Mr. Howard is not one whom he would
trust with his idle schemes!'--'You are mistaken, Madam,' answered I,
'Mr. Flint was explicit with me in regard to his motives for leaving
Tarefield. He told me he was weary of idleness, and was determined
to seek employment.'--'He has pleased himself, Mr. Howard,' observed
your father, with much coolness. 'I can have no objection to his plan,
for I have long recommended employment to him; but he has learned
to despise my advice, and to think every man a _monster_ who plants
sugar-canes. A few hardships will convince him, that the bread earned
by the sweat of the brow is as laboriously earned in Europe as in the
West-Indies.'--'Percival's talents will, I should hope,' answered I,
'secure him from so bitter an experiment; and his education has not
been subservient to commercial views.'--'So much the worse,' replied
he, with passion, 'so much the worse for him! He would have been
getting forward by this time; with Oliver as his assistant, he would
have had three or four hundred pounds per annum.'--'Well,' replied I,
'let us hope he will meet fortune in his own way; and that will never
be a dishonourable one.'--'Pray do you know where he means to seek the
fickle goddess?' asked Mr. Flamall.--'Were she not blind as well as
fickle,' replied I, 'she would seek him; but real merit and persevering
courage will, in the long run, get before her.'--'In that case he
must be more persevering than he has been,' observed your father, 'and
better informed as to what will suit him. His Latin and Greek will do
him no good, for he has discovered that priestcraft is as bad as the
negro trade; but this comes of a man's having more ballast than his
head can carry.'--'Whoever has insinuated into your mind, Sir, this
opinion of your son,' replied I, 'did not know him; and I assert that
he desired nothing more ardently, than to be ordained to exercise the
functions of a parish priest.' He looked vexed, and said he had heard a
very different story. I had given my sweet girl a look of intelligence,
and she comprehended it. Mrs. Flint had tenderly taken her seat by her,
and appeared anxious to console her. Finding your father said no more
on the subject of your various _sins_, I rose to depart; and, resisting
all Miss Flint's persuasions, was fairly making my escape, when your
father graciously pressed me to stay and dine with him, adding, 'I am
not angry with you, Mr. Howard, because you are Percival's friend: he
may think as he pleases of me, and follow his own conceit. When he
is pennyless he will find out his mistakes, and it may be, not find
his father the _slave-driver_, as he calls me.'--You must, my dear
Percival, write to him, &c. &c.
I did write to my father, Miss Cowley. I wish to forget his answer.
He reproached me with having gained an interest in his wife's heart.
She had sorrowed for me, and had even solicited for my return. He
neither wished for my success, nor sent me a guinea. I embarked with
my regiment for Canada; from thence I again wrote to my father, and
also to my brother Oliver. The reply of the latter was not calculated
to have removed my prejudices, if I had entertained any which were
unfavourable to his traffic. "He was sorry that I had disobliged my
good father, by a conduct which few men could overlook, and which he
thought highly criminal, when my affinity was taken into the account.
But idleness was the root of all evil; and he hoped I should, in my
employment, retrieve my lost time, and regain my father's favour.
He had four children; his wife, a teeming woman, expecting a fifth
blessing. He wished me well, and was my affectionate brother Oliver."
Here our correspondence closed.
During my three or four years banishment I heard of my father's
increasing infirmities, and the discontents at the hall; of Howard's
having lost his mother, and his being the husband of Mary, my beloved
sister; and, in a word, of my father's death, and our inheritance of a
shilling. The lieutenant returned to his hospitable asylum a captain.
The Heartleys "killed for him the fatted calf," as the _returned_
blessing, not the prodigal. Nothing, however, could detain me in town;
and with all my worldly wealth, namely, thirty guineas in my purse,
I took my place in a northern stage-coach; and quitting it within a
few miles of this spot, endeavoured to hire a horse. Some difficulty
arising, to which my impatience could not submit, I determined to leave
my portmanteau at the inn, and to walk. I set forward, but was soon
overtaken by a heavy rain. A stage-waggon was in sight, and knowing
that I had no clothes with me, I accepted the shelter. A neatly-dressed
country woman was the only passenger. The rain poured down in torrents,
and she began her chat by observing that I had been lucky. I sighed.
"Mayhap, Sir," continued she curiously examining my uniform, "you are
not used to ride in waggon; but is it not better than being wet to
the skin?" I said I found it so; and that it was comfortable. "Oh!"
returned she, "many of your honour's poor soldiers would think it so!"
Curiosity next came forward. "Had I far to go?"--"Only to the Abbey
farm," answered I.--"We pass the door," returned she; "but you will
find Mrs. Wilson in great trouble; she is sad indeed."--"Then you know
the family?" said I.--"Know them!" repeated she; "who does not, that
lives in the parish, and I may say for miles round?"--"I am sorry to
hear she is ill," observed I, anxious for more intelligence.--"Why
as for the matter of health," returned she, "thank God, she has no
reason to complain; but she is sadly troubled to see the curate so
poorly. I suppose, Sir, you know Mr. and Madam Howard, who live at
the Abbey."--I bowed my head.--"It will make your heart ach, I can
tell you," continued she, "to see the poor gentleman; he is a going,
_that's for certain_! He has never held up his head since that old
rascal of a father died, and left Madam only a shilling out of all his
money. Dame Dobs, who nurses Miss, told me a week _agone_ she did not
know which of the dear souls would go first, for Madam Howard was a
mere _notomy_ with fretting. Ah! Sir, you may well turn up your eyes
to heaven," continued she, with eagerness, "they will find a a God to
comfort them there at least; and that is more than their enemies will.
They have the staff in their hands here, but the devil gave it them!
I would not be the mistress of the hall for this waggon loaded with
gold! They say there is no sleeping in one's bed at the hall since the
old man died. I do not wonder at it. How should his soul rest after
such wickedness? There is Madam Howard and her dear babe left with a
shilling! There is a poor son, he is drove from the hall a downright
vagabond, if he be alive; but some say he died of hunger and cold in
some great forest beyond sea, and was eaten by the blacks; and that
his spirit also has been seen in the room where he kept his books, for
he was a great scholar. I did not know him, but Dame Dobs did, and she
says he was only too good for them."--"What is become of the widow
Flint?" asked I.--"Why she, Sir, as a body may say, 'jumped out of
the frying-pan into the fire.' She married a second time, with as bad
luck as the first. She is a lady, but her husband is in a sad sort of
a way, and looks like a ghost. Poor soul! she has had hard trials! But
she is not of my mind. I would sooner beg my bread, with my children
at my back, than live as she does, like 'a toad under a harrow;' But
the money!--Aye, there's the rub!--Master Philip is to have all Miss
Flint's wealth, and so all is submitted to; but she may find herself a
loser in the end; for Mr. Flamall is as cunning as the devil himself,
and only pretends to love Master Flint for his own advantage. They are
a precious set! I would sooner wear lindsey-woolsey than Miss Flint's
silks and satins! But, dear me, she knows she is hated in the parish;
and that we all pray to God to spare to us Mr. Howard, who is a lamb,
Sir, and too good for this wicked world; and when Miss Flint comes to
her dying bed, what good will all her money do her, who has overlooked
all her relations, _if nothing worse_? It is but lately I settled in
these parts; but people have not forgot to talk. They say Madam Howard
has been cruelly treated."--Unable to suppress my agitation, I said the
vehicle incommoded me, and that I would walk the remaining part of the
road. The rain had abated of its violence, and I quitted my loquacious,
but honest companion.
Prepared as I had thus been, I could not without the pangs of despair
behold my emaciated friend; and the faded form of my once lovely and
blooming sister. I dare not recall the anguish of our first embrace!
Let it suffice; it appeared that Heaven in its mercy conducted me to
them for their consolation. Howard's spirits were renewed, the cherub
Mary smiled in her cradle, and we forgot the past in our present
comforts. Tarefield-hall was shunned; for I feared my impetuosity,
and dreaded to disturb the tranquillity of my dear invalids. Heartley
gained me three months leave of absence beyond the term allotted me,
and I was happy;--yes, Miss Cowley, happy! for I perceived that I was
the cordial of health to those whom I loved more than myself. Howard's
cough disappeared; and he began to talk of freeing Mr. Greenwood
from his fatigue of going through the parochial duties. This led him
to expatiate on that gentleman's generous and unequalled kindness.
"I will," added he smiling, "relate to you circumstances, in which
you will find that in Greenwood's friendship heaven gave me a full
equivalent _even for your absence_. So prepare yourself for a long
story, and for acknowledging that Mr. Greenwood with all his gravity
and sanctity favoured two lovers more than you did." He pressed my hand
with affection and proceeded.
You have seen detailed in my Mary's letters to me, the growth of Mr.
Flamall's influence at the hall. For a time we exulted at his success,
as it promised, that by directing Miss Flint's unfortunate fancy from
me to himself, we should be released from a serious obstacle to our
wishes. On the death of my dear mother, and after a month's absence,
I pleaded business and want of spirits for neglecting to visit my
kind friends at the hall. Miss Flint took a particular liking to
Mrs. Wilson, and visited her daily. Terrified by this attack on my
strong-hold, I consulted Greenwood; and made a full confession of
my attachment to my sweet Mary, not omitting your fatherly counsels
and her trust in my devoted heart. He could only repeat your sage
exhortations, and pity me. Mrs. Wilson was a more useful confidant,
for I had notice of the enemy's approach; and my escapes were so well
managed, that, foiled in the purpose of her frequent visits, Miss
Lucretia forgot her dear Mrs. Wilson, and at once made known her
intentions to her father. Mr. Flint's letter contained a very civil
approbation of my conduct, in as much as I had practised a prudence
which did honour to my principles, it certainly being an improbable
event, that he should favour an union so unequal in regard to fortune;
but finding his daughter's happiness depended on her marrying _me_,
and that I had only been withheld from applying to him from an
honest scruple, he informed me that I was secure of his consent, that
he should allow Lucretia four hundred pounds per annum, and on the
death of the rector induct me to the living of Tarefield. For his
further consideration he made no doubt, I would patiently wait till
his decease. Good God! continued poor Howard, what were my emotions
on reading this letter! The exchange of one word in it would have
raised me to envied bliss, and with patience could I have waited for
all other considerations had your father been determined to rival in
longevity Methusalem himself. But it was not _Mary Flint_. I answered
his letter, and with all the expressions of respect which the subject
demanded, finished by asserting, that I had long been an engaged man,
and too warmly attached to a beloved object to conceive any measured
conduct necessary; that I had on many different occasions, spoken
unequivocally of the state of my affections, in Miss Flint's presence;
and that my behaviour had never for an instant contradicted my words;
nor could any motives of interest dispose me to relinquish a woman
whom I loved. You will conclude that my favour at the hall ceased;
and in my disgrace, even my pulpit eloquence was forgotten; for the
family, when they were disposed to enter a place of public worship,
went to Greenwood's parish. Secure as we mutually were on the side of
faith and love, my dear Mary and myself contrived with the help of the
faithful old oak and those hopes to which we fondly cleaved, to support
those little trials of our patience. I had warned her never to keep my
letters, and to be prepared for the inspection of a jealous woman. She
was so docile to my wishes, that she not only obeyed me in this point,
but from a secret misgiving, to the motive of which I was a stranger,
she buried in the avenue her little store of gold. This secret I was
told when she became my wife. She had been disgusted by Mr. Flamall's
behaviour, and dreaded his cunning. Her mother-in-law's kindness
favoured her reserve to him, and with growing attachment these young
women would soon have been friends.
"Fortune now became weary of a love intrigue like ours. My beauteous
sylph was seen by Miss Flint's woman, taking a letter of mine from
the oak, and dropping one of her own into it. The alarm was given. My
letter, seized by the furious sister, and hers, brought by the vile
informer to her lady, were proofs of our intelligence which admitted
of no palliation. I had, in my letter, very freely mentioned Miss
Flint; praying to fortune that she might succeed in _her attacks_ on
Flamall's heart, who, Mary had informed me, was become her favourite.
She had gone farther into this subject in her letter, and in a word,
we had not been sparing in our animadversions on them, nor in our
compassion for the nominal mistress of the mansion, who had not the
courage to pull a bell-string in her own house. I will hasten from
the scene that followed this discovery," continued Howard, wiping the
sickly dew from his brow, "to what purpose should I repeat cruelties
at which an inquisitor, if not lost to feeling, would blush?----Mary
has told me since, that she is convinced they meant to make her mad.
Imprisoned in her room, suffered to see no one but Miss Flint, and
the woman who had betrayed her; without books, without needle-work,
or a candle when dark! reproaches! even blows, Percival! She said she
thought sometimes, that her senses were affected, for she frequently
found to her surprise, that she had forgotten to go to bed. On one
of these occasions she was alarmed by hearing some one at the window
calling her gently by name; despair rendered her fearless, and, on
approaching it, she found it was a young man who lived in the house
as groom. 'I come to serve you Miss,' said he, 'because it is my
duty. Your dear mother saved mine from the grave. I am Frank Crofts,
to whom you used to bring cakes at Chelsea. Mr. Greenwood knows all
about me, and my scheme; here is a letter for you from him; and I
shall come for you on Saturday night; fear nothing; try to be easy:
you will soon be with my mother, and honest people.' So saying, he
retired. Mr. Greenwood's letter was satisfactory. And two nights of
repose gave her strength to descend from the room two stories high by
means of a ladder. Frank securing some linen she had provided, gave
himself no trouble to remove the means of her escape. She recollected
her concealed treasure, and he disinterred it. Greenwood was at the
avenue gate with a decent looking man and a chaise. He told her she
was safe, and that her guide would protect her. She instantly got
into the carriage, which was an open, old-fashioned vehicle, with
two stout horses, and driven by her conductor. They soon lost sight
of the village. Frank retired to his pillow in the stable-chamber:
and Greenwood returned home. I have given to my tale the language of
romance," continued Howard, smiling, "we are now come to the climax.
After morning-service, this lad in passing me, said, 'Go to Mr.
Greenwood's,' and he instantly joined some people at the church-gate.
I looked at him, and I perceived there was more in his manner, than
could be understood by a common observer; with a palpitating heart I
took the road to my friend's house. I had not proceeded far, when
Frank, breathless with speed, overtook me. 'She is safe, Sir!' said
he, 'blessed be God, she is safe. Mr. Greenwood will tell you all
about it. They cannot murder her now.' He darted from me. 'I must not
be seen with you,' cried he, measuring back his hasty steps. Judge of
my feelings! I cannot describe them! Greenwood suffered my tears to
flow; and at length begun with his darling topic of the excellency
of human nature when uncorrupted by the world's contagion. This
Frank _Armstrong_, as he properly styled himself under his borrowed
name," continued my friend, "has been the deliverer of Miss Flint,
from the simple suggestions of gratitude and pity. He brought me a
letter from his mother who lives at Newcastle, in which she recommends
him, to leave no means unemployed to rescue your mistress from her
hard captivity, to consult me on every step, and to inform me of
the obligations she was under to Mary's mother. These were fully
stated, and Frank proceeded to his own confession. He preferred being
a sailor to working with his brother-in-law, a wealthy farmer, who
lived five miles from Newcastle; he left his good friends secretly,
and by chance stopped at the Ram for refreshment. There he met a
groom just discharged from the hall, and who disgusted by Miss Flint,
entertained Frank with the history of the family, and gave vent to his
own resentments. Miss Mary was the heroine of this history. She was an
'_angel_,' but with the rest, made miserable by the '_she-devil_' who
ruled in the house; and he had left the hall in a fine '_kick up_;' for
they had found out that Miss Mary had been writing a love-letter to
the curate her sister's sweetheart. Curiosity appears to have been the
first stimulus to Frank's project; he won on the landlord to recommend
him to the vacated post, and Tarefield being in no great repute for
kitchen comforts, he was engaged on trial, and entered into the family
as groom, under the name of Frank Armstrong. In a few days Frank was in
the family secrets, the kitchen account was in the captive's favour.
Anne, the chamber-maid, to use Frank's words, made his blood boil in
his veins. He wrote to his mother, promising he would never go to sea,
if she would come and take away Miss Mary. The good woman's letter to
me, was an undeniable proof of her principles and prudence. I observed,
that the only difficulty was to remove Mary from the house. 'Leave that
to me, Sir,' said he, exultingly, 'leave that to me, I will die rather
than she should! only, as Miss does not know me, I must have a letter
from you; she may think that I am an enemy.' Struck by this acuteness,
I gave him a short note and he disappeared. The next evening he called
upon me. 'All will be ready for Saturday night,' said he. 'My brother
will be here. I have contrived it.'--I stared with surprise. 'Why you
know, Sir,' said he, 'I could not do without a ladder, seeing Miss
Mary is locked into a chamber two stories high; and as for unbolting
and unbarring, were she even below stairs that would be impossible,
without making more noise than we want. So, Sir, I have provided
ladders in plenty, and what is better, as high as the house. He laughed
immoderately. It was a good thought, cried he, though I say it; for I
have made them a job which will put money into their pockets for the
use of the ladder. An explanation followed. I found that Frank could
reason on causes and effects. A six weeks drought, said he, with a new
moon, promised rain, and I was determined that there should be no want
of water at the hall when it did come, so I have been in the false
roof and have made such breaches in the tiling, that the garrets are
afloat every shower that falls, and we have had plenty! just as though
God Almighty had sent them for the purpose of serving the poor young
lady.'--But why did you chuse Saturday night? asked I, on any other I
could have gone with her. I will answer that in a moment, replied he.
First your honour must know, that Sunday is a Sabbath of rest with our
folks at the hall; I had them safe in their beds till eight or nine
o'clock, and there was time gained. Secondly, Mr. Webster, my brother,
could not so well come on any other day, because of his horses: and in
the last place, said he, rubbing his hands with vivacity, I shall never
as long as I live forget Sunday, whether I am at church or at home. The
better the day, the better the deed, say I. God will bless it again,
if I can save this poor soul! He then gave me with emotion the account
of her treatment which he had learned from Anne the chamber-maid, who
was as he said Miss Mary's '_true friend_.'
"Yesterday evening Mr. Webster made his appearance, we concerted our
measures, and all has succeeded. The rescued prisoner is now on the
road to a shelter, and she is safe from pursuit.
"I am," continued Mr. Greenwood with dignity, "perfectly satisfied with
my own motives for an interference in this business. It is the duty
of every man to assist the oppressed. Mr. Flint by his imbecility and
injustice has forfeited the rights of a parent; he has given up his
authority into the hands of an enraged and disappointed woman, whom he
well knew to be ungovernable in her passions, and under whose power
he himself groans. I have acted for this father, Mr. Howard; he may
one day thank me, as the deliverer of his child. It requires but a
superficial knowledge of human nature, and little experience in life,
to know the fatal effects of counteracted and opposed passion, in a
youthful mind, when cruelty is the means employed to accomplish the
purpose. I am not disposed to believe that many girls die of love; but
I have seen many examples of an evil more to be dreaded than death, by
an improper and harsh opposition to this passion, as well as others;
and when I saw your Mary I was convinced that I was acting in favour
of humanity and justice. I have, however," continued he, "engaged
her promise of obedience to my directions; and I now claim your word
of honour, to be governed by me. I will endeavour to see Mr. Flint;
have patience; write to your beloved Mary. I will take care she has
your letters; and you will soon hear from her. But you must not quit
Tarefield without my permission." I answered him with my tears; he was
satisfied.
A month passed. Greenwood found Mr. Flint inaccessible. He desired to
see Miss Flint; and at length gained his point. With well affected
concern she mentioned her father's illness as the reason of his
refusing his friendly visits, adding, that no consolation could at that
moment reach a mind sunk to despair, by the conduct of an ungrateful
and too tenderly beloved child. She entered into the detail of my
infamous duplicity, and Mary's as infamous advances to my preference.
I wave however, continued she, my own injuries, bitterly as I still
feel them; but the letters now in my father's hands I can never forget.
The cruel mockery, the insolence of them, as they relate to him, is
unpardonable! Would you believe it possible, added she, that amongst
these proofs of depravity in a girl so young, my father has one, which
has convinced him, that she was in Percival's secrets; and that she
favoured him in his profligate inclination for Mrs. Flint, telling him,
that in time she might listen to him more kindly. Could you give credit
to this report Mr. Greenwood asked she, on a less certain evidence than
mine? Even yours, replied Mr. Greenwood, is insufficient; for I will
maintain every syllable you have uttered to be false, till I have seen
those letters, and have confronted them with the declaration of the
supposed writers. When I see Mr. Flint less a prisoner than he is, when
he is permitted to listen to _truth_ and to _justice_, you may have,
Madam, better claims to my confidence than you have at present. If your
visit was intended as an _insult_, replied she, rising with fury, its
purpose is accomplished; and your character, which you have forgotten,
shall be your protection, till you leave this spot. It shall do more,
said Mr. Greenwood calmly, for it is proper I should warn you to
pause in the road you are in. I am well informed, Miss Flint, and I
caution you, as the minister of a master who "hateth the oppressor, and
abhorreth the workers in iniquity," to consider what you have done to
offend him; and what you still meditate to do, in order to ruin that
innocent which is God's peculiar care.
He instantly quitted the room, leaving her confounded or choaked with
rage. Mr. Greenwood soon after gave me my leave of absence. I flew
to my every earthly good. Mrs. Croft had conducted her to Berwick,
and on my joining her, we were united in the presence of as many
witnesses as curiosity and the admiration of Mary's beauty collected.
We passed a week with Mr. Webster, and finally settled here, with a
welcome of a long hoped for blessing. Frank was early in his visit of
congratulation, and our gratitude overcame him. He gazed on Mary. "Now
I see," cried he, "the same face I so well remembered; but Lord help
me! when you came, like a reed, down the ladder, and I saw your deadly
paleness, I could hardly help thinking that ghosts had bones, and that
I had one in my arms, for you looked for all the world like one. Who
could have believed, Sir," added he, "turning to me with exultation,
that a month or six weeks with my mother, could have made roses so
cruelly frost-bitten, blown again! Oh! I would give the world if Miss
Flint could see you both at this moment! she would be paid interest
for all her wicked labours! but she will have it, yes, yes, Sir, the
reckoning will stand; there are no sponges for her accounts! you know
that, Mr. Howard, no _white-washing_ in the creed you teach!"
"I am prolix, Percival," continued my brother, "but you share in the
enthusiasm, which has for its object, a character like _this_." He at
length, sedately gave us the particulars of the discovery of Mary's
escape, which, you will easily imagine, produced the utmost confusion:
I was naturally the first person suspected as having aided her; but I
had, fortunately, passed the Saturday at Bishop's-Auckland, and had
slept there. This _alibi_ proved, and my remaining quiet at Wilson's
perplexed them, and lost in conjectures, they gave up the fruitless
question. Frank was requested to convey our letters to Mr. Flint. My
master keeps his room, said he, sorrowfully; and Madam Flint no more
dares to act in the matter, than to swallow fire, or poison, poor
soul! But do not cry, my dear lady, all will turn out well in time.
Let me consider, I will contrive! Anne goes into the room, and there
is nothing she can refuse me, she is as honest as the day is light,
and loves you, Madam. Never fear, you have got Mr. Howard at your
side, and it is a long lane indeed that has no end. I know but of one
that never ends, let them take that who like it, say I; but yours is
a _sure road_, Madam, and never mind, altho' it is not, at present,
all on the nail. "Oh Percival," exclaimed poor Howard, lifting up his
expressive eyes to Heaven, "what is man when true to his endowments!
He is indeed but little lower than the angels, and worthy of the
all-perfect hand which made him! But I shall meet this fellow-mortal,
and rejoice with him in his glorious recompence! Our letters were
committed to his faithful hands. Two or three days after, he came to
make his farewell visit, and to request Mary to write to his mother,
that she was satisfied with his conduct. Our letters to the hall were
returned, the _seals unbroken_. Anne was discharged at a moment. Mr.
Flamall, said Frank, paid me my wages, and told me I did not suit my
place nor the family. I could have told you that, said I, long ago; but
you had nothing to do with me, nor I with you, Mr. Flamall. I spoke as
I felt, Sir, added he, nodding to me. He warned me if I valued a whole
skin, not to be insolent; but I told him that neither my skin nor my
honesty would be in danger from him. He said, I was a low scoundrel. I
never heard, said I, keeping my ground, of a scoundrel who was not low,
though he tacked _squire_ or _counsellor_ to his name. He advanced to
strike me, but he thought better of it, I believe, for he turned on his
heel. I wish to the Lord he had, he would have met with his match at
a hard blow, though he will never find one in his roguery. Anne says
there are fine doings going on between him and Miss Flint. So much the
better, let them have their swing, till their own noose catches them!
'tis the old one's trick, you know _that_, Sir, continued he, and
have often told us that his snares were of our own making, and that
we had arms in our hands, that would bind his, if we were disposed to
use them. But I must go, added he, to fetch my things, and I will call
again for your letter, Madam, and my blessing. He bowed, and hastily
left us, penetrated with admiration and gratitude."
From this time we have not seen him; but we hear from his mother, that
he is married and settled, and continues in the line of conduct that
was to be expected from such beginnings of virtue and goodness.
To Mr. Greenwood's and Mr. Wilson's exertions in my favour, I stand
indebted for the bread which has supported me here; the former
convinced the rector, that I was an honest man; and the latter employed
such zeal in my cause, that a paper was signed by most of my flock,
containing such a report of me, as proved that I was qualified for a
bishopric at least. Happy in the wife of my bosom, cherished by the
worthy beings who sheltered us as the honour and blessings of their
roof, I should have forgotten Tarefield-hall, with its inmates, but
my poor Mary heard continually of her father's declining health, and
prompted by her tenderness, she was as continually making attempts to
see him. A letter she sent to Mrs. Flint, reached her, and in a few
days we were surprised by the sight of Mary's clothes and linen, which
were left without a message. In arranging them, with the sweet hope
which this consideration inspired, a note dropped from a gown sleeve;
it was from Mrs. Flint, and contained a bank bill of twenty-five
pounds. "I send you as a token of my love, my dear and injured girl,"
wrote Mrs. Flint, "the inclosed trifle; this is all I am able to do. My
interference in respect to sending you your clothes, has been highly
resented. Believe, that in me you have a friend, but alas! that friend
is too much oppressed to serve you, or your unhappy father, whose heart
still turns to his child. Have patience; write no more to Harriot
Flint, she is watched, and hazards her peace even in this simple act of
humanity.
"In proportion as your father approached his grave," continued my
brother, "my wife became wretched, and my spirits were in continual
agitation lest in the concessions which she prompted me to make, I
should be censured, as being governed by self-interest. At length we
heard of his death, and in due form were summoned by an attorney, a
Durham man, to the hall, in order to be present at the opening of
Mr. Flint's will. You know its purport. When the lawyer had finished
reading, I rose, and taking my nearly sinking Mary's cold hand, I fixed
my eyes on the heiress's face. 'This is at least Howard's,' said I,
'and in his affection at least your sister is _rich_. Neither malice
nor envy dare invade these rights. The Being whom we adore is able to
provide for us, and the bread he bestows, will be that of peace and a
good conscience.' Miss Flint made no reply. Mrs. Flint, who had during
this time covered her face from observation, now rose with emotion, and
stopping me as I was advancing to the door with my precious burden,
she said, 'As Mr. Flint's wife I was dumb; but as his widow I _will_
speak. If Mrs. Howard wishes to follow her father's remains, have the
goodness, Sir, to let me hear from you.' She hastily left the room
before me. The next day my wife received from her a parcel of mourning
stuffs; but my heart revolted at favours given to _beggary_. I sent
them back with a card, 'Mrs. Howard is provided with _mourning_.' A
fever of some danger prevented my Mary's thinking of the funeral.
It was magnificent, and your mother's remains were disinterred and
brought hither to rest with her husband's. Poor Mary has been one of
Greenwood's hearers ever since; and even my nerves were for a time
shaken by their monument, which is in the chancel."