_From the same to the same._
"You shall expect a letter by Miss Howard." Well, I will try, and
convince my dear girl that I am not a simpleton, whose philosophy
resembles the feather in her hat, discomfited by a falling shower, or
a rough blast. I will be your Rachel Cowley, although no longer your
_Beatrix_.
I was pleased on Thursday morning to find that my good baronet had not
finally renounced all "the pomps and vanities of this wicked world;"
being convinced that in a moderate use of them, he will be in less
danger of corruption, than many who think sackcloth and ashes the
only guards to keep off temptation. He entered the music-parlour, in
which Mrs. Allen and myself were prepared for the carriage, with an
erect air, and as I thought a firmer step than usual, to ask when the
coach should draw up. He wore his bridal suit, somewhat modernized; an
embroidered waistcoat, and, as Mrs. Allen and myself both believe, a
rich diamond stock buckle; a new hat, and a gold-headed cane. We made
no remarks on his finery; he prevented it, by instantly adverting to
my robe, which was the one we embroidered together; and paid it many
compliments. Mrs. Allen observed, that her grey silk gown and black
bonnet would disgrace the well-dressed party. "No," replied he, with
easy politeness, "that can never happen, till you keep bad company.
Wisdom acknowledges her children under any attire; and sober matron
grace is your ornament. But Malcolm means to leave his boots behind
him, and begs a corner in the carriage with us," added he, taking a
pinch of snuff from a superb gold box; "I am not sorry to see him now
and then lay aside the _farmer_ for the _gentleman_, as of the latter
class he may always be, though of the former, without sinking his
character; whereas, I have seen farmers, and rich ones, who were not,
nor could be _gentlemen_." Malcolm's entrance and dress produced the
consequences to be drawn from Sir Murdock's inferences. He smiled on
him with complacence, and said, "Why, now, indeed, you look like a
_lover_, and _a Maclairn_!"--"When I forget what either of those titles
claim," replied he, gaily, "hang a calf skin on my recreant limbs."
Thus attired we reached the Abbey. The captain in his best regimentals
was prepared to receive his guests; and leaving the baronet to survey
at his pleasure, those stationary friends which lined the room, Mrs.
Allen and myself went to Mrs. Heartley's. Mrs. Wilson was with her;
the girls were with Malcolm in the garden, and in our view. "Poor Miss
Heartley will sadly miss her friend," observed the good woman, looking
attentively on them as they walked leaning on Malcolm's arm. "It might
have been as well for _us_ had Miss Howard not passed the last month
here, as it must make parting with her more hard." I spoke of my Lucy.
"I have no doubts of her being happy," replied Mrs. Wilson, "and I know
she will be respected, and improved in her learning, as Mr. Howard's
daughter ought to be; but as to her comforts with us, they have been
always our blessings. To be sure, we could not introduce her as you
will do; but otherwise----But, if she be happy? Yet, as my husband
and I have told the captain hundreds of times, there was no reason
for his troubles on Mary's account. Thank God, we have enough for
her and ourselves too, and, though we have relations to maintain, we
never grudged them assistance, and surely we had a right to be happy
in our turn. But I saw how it was," added she, wiping her eyes, "when
the innocent lamb was sent to that savage aunt; the captain thought I
should love her too well to please my husband's nieces. Dear me! duty
and affection will not always march side by side! They were not born
in my house, I never dandled them on my knees, nor saw them frisking
before me! yet I do not forget them, they are _relations_. But this
child!"--She wept.--"I beg your pardon, Miss Cowley, but I cannot
help being sorry that she is going from us." I consoled her with the
assurance that her absence would not be many months; and mentioned my
hope of seeing you under her roof, as much a favourite as Mary. "So
Mrs. Heartley tells me," replied she rising; "but in the mean time
what is become of our young folks. They do not consider how cold it
is turned." She disappeared in order to give them the caution. "How
little do those understand the genuine goodness of human nature," said
Mrs. Heartley, following with her eyes the retreating Mrs. Wilson,
"who maintain, that it is indebted to acquired attainments and
borrowed lustre for its excellence and stability! No one can estimate
the advantages of a good education more highly than myself; but there
are some of our fellow-creatures, so richly endowed with virtuous
propensities, that they appear to me to be peculiarly marked, in
order to humble the pride of human reason; and to exhibit virtue in
her native dignity and simplicity. What system of education, or what
refinements of the polite world, could have better taught this woman
the art of conferring benefits without oppressing the receiver, than
her own heart, and the precepts in the gospel. That which thousands in
the world would consider as a work of supererogation and superlative
merit, she is firmly persuaded, is doing no more than what Mr. and
Mrs. Howard's child has a right to exact, because they were good and
unfortunate; and she left an orphan under her roof. She has not a
doubt of her being answerable for this young creature's comforts; and
her regret on losing sight of her, is by no means unmixed with the
fear, lest some mischief should arise from her acquaintance with the
world. We have happily succeeded in satisfying her on this point; and
she blesses God, that Miss Mary is not likely to see _London_. I am
frequently so struck by this good woman's purity of heart, and sound
principles of action," continued Mrs. Heartley, "that I am in some
danger of despising too much the philosophy and refinements of the
world. I cannot help believing, that, whilst immersed in its cares and
its pleasures, not only my enjoyments were more controuled, but my
heart less pure than it is at present. My ambition, which then looked
forwards to the well-earned recompence of my husband's toils, and the
honourable establishment of my children in that class to which their
parents had a claim, is now settled into the wish of seeing Alice a
good wife, and a farmer's wife: and I should be contented to leave her
with the qualities of a Mrs. Wilson, and in the protection of a man
like Wilson."
"A little refinement," answered I, with an arch smile, "will not
spoil your plan of rural innocence and peace. Malcolm may work as
industriously as Mr. Wilson, notwithstanding his wicked taste for
Virgil and Theocritus; and it will be Alice's own fault, should she
neglect the churn for the harpsichord."--"Rather say, her foolish
mother's," replied she, laughing, "who, in spite of her convictions,
could not leave her bad habits with the world she quitted. However,"
continued she, "I can give you no stronger proof of being a sincere
proselyte to the opinions I have supported, than in the disposal of
my daughter. On this important point I have so far deviated from the
prescribed rules of parental prudence, as to hazard the censure of
weakness, if not indiscretion, in permitting a girl who has no fortune,
to engage herself in a promise of marriage to a man nearly as little
favoured as herself in this essential article. It may not be amiss,"
continued she, laughing, "to endeavour to justify my conduct on this
particular head, with _one_ so rigidly attached to the doctrine of the
'suitable,' 'convenient,' and 'equal bargain' in this grand business
of human life. The truth was, I had no alternative in the question
concerning the happiness of my child. I foresaw, that circumstanced
as she was, Malcolm Maclairn would either remain a second brother, or
become her lover. There was no inequality of condition or of character,
to oppose to their growing attachment; both were virtuous and amiable;
both had the same moderate expectations; both had been educated for
a decent mediocrity, I wrote to Lady Maclairn my _observations_, not
my _fears_; for I had none. Malcolm's visits were not restrained. I
considered, Miss Cowley, that worldly prudence was not without its
victims; that human wisdom was not unfrequently frustrated, and that
an anxious eye to the future often overshot its mark. In the dread of
poverty we sometimes forget to appreciate justly the barriers which
talents, industry, and sobriety can oppose to its encroachments, and
still more heedlessly, turn from the numberless examples, in which
wealth, with the habits it induces, has been the high road to penury.
Malcolm is a practical farmer; and from the application of better
opportunities, and superior talents, he has enlarged Mr. Wilson's
agricultural knowledge, who calls him 'his master.' Malcolm was not
sixteen when I warned his mother of his _danger_," continued Mrs.
Heartley smiling; "since his father has sanctioned his views, I have
regarded him as my son. Fortunately, Alice's pedigree pleased the
good baronet; and he told Malcolm, that with such an education as he
described, and from so _honourable_ a stock, any girl was rich to an
independent and wise man. From that hour his plans have been brought
forward; and when, by means of his friend Wilson's assistance, he can
find a farm, my children will be happy. An advantageous project in
order to effect this, is now before them; and I hope will turn out as
profitably to Mr. Wilson, who is a sensible and prudent man, as to Mr.
Maclairn: in the mean time he is contented with the privileges I allow
him; and Alice calls me her friend and confidant, and is in no hurry to
change her name."
A summons to the party below prevented more on this subject. But tell
me, Lucy, what is your opinion of this mother? I thought whilst I
listened to her, that I was with _ours_! I found Mrs. Wilson presiding
at the head of Captain Flint's table. The _feast_, for such it was,
was in her parlour. A noble room, with a dark wainscoat, and a
profusion of carving, gave dignity to the repast, and also a contrast
peculiarly striking to the appearance of the guests; for we ought to
have been dressed in farthingales and Queen Bess's ruffs; and the
donor of the feast, as we suspect, to have had pages and gentlemen
ushers. Simplicity, gaiety, and ease, supplied the place of ancient
ceremonials; and I could not help recalling, in remarking the modest
but independent farmer Wilson, the times of vassalage, when pride and
abject submission bound the human race in the fetters of ignorance.
Mrs. Allen, who appeared to be particularly Mrs. Wilson's favourite of
the day, assures me, that I am forgiven for my wickedness in sending
Mary from the Abbey. Miss Hardcastle's character has effected this
lenity on Mrs. Wilson's part. "Her gentleness is exactly the thing;
for to Mary Howard, _gentleness_ is meat, drink, and clothing. She
hopes Miss Hardcastle will attend to the _little cough_, which from
time to time alarms her fears, Mary's dear parents having died of
consumptions; but then indeed these were brought on by sorrow and the
barbarity of the wicked. Miss Howard will have no such troubles; yet
she has given her the recipe for the cough, which was always useful.
How so tender a creature got through her hardship at the hall is
beyond her conception! It appears to her a miracle! She who never went
to bed or rose without a fire in her room, and who was reared like a
_cot-lamb_!" Mrs. Allen received these hints with due attention, and
with good-natured seriousness told her, that she had only one fear to
combat with, namely, that Mary would be still too much the _cotted-lamb
at Heathcot_. She smiled, and nodding her honest and contented head,
answered, "That is well: she will never be spoiled by nursing, as they
are, poor fools!"
Malcolm waits for my letter. He sleeps at the Abbey in order to
accompany the travellers one stage. I have written a note to Mary, in
which I have inclosed a bank note of fifty pounds, and in the most
dictatorial language of an _elder sister_, recommended to her care the
escort which Providence has given her to her new abode. I could not
take leave of this dear girl; it is better as I have managed matters;
nor shall I go to the Abbey to-morrow. Malcolm shall have the triumph
of consoling the simpletons there; I have enough to do, to make
reasonable your
Rachel Cowley.