Offences are easily pardoned where there is love at bottom.
The next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out on my return
home. As we travelled along, I strove, by every persuasion, to calm her
sorrows and fears, and to arm her with resolution to bear the presence
of her offended mother. I took every opportunity, from the prospect of
a fine country, through which we passed, to observe how much kinder
heaven was to us, than we to each other, and that the misfortunes of
nature’s making were very few. I assured her, that she should never
perceive any change in my affections, and that during my life, which
yet might be long, she might depend upon a guardian and an instructor.
I armed her against the censures of the world, shewed her that books
were sweet unreproaching companions to the miserable, and that if they
could not bring us to enjoy life, they would at least teach us to
endure it.
The hired horse that we rode was to be put up that night at an inn by
the way, within about five miles from my house, and as I was willing to
prepare my family for my daughter’s reception, I determined to leave
her that night at the inn, and to return for her, accompanied by my
daughter Sophia, early the next morning. It was night before we reached
our appointed stage: however, after seeing her provided with a decent
apartment, and having ordered the hostess to prepare proper
refreshments, I kissed her, and proceeded towards home. And now my
heart caught new sensations of pleasure the nearer I approached that
peaceful mansion. As a bird that had been frighted from its nest, my
affections out-went my haste, and hovered round my little fire-side,
with all the rapture of expectation. I called up the many fond things I
had to say, and anticipated the welcome I was to receive. I already
felt my wife’s tender embrace, and smiled at the joy of my little ones.
As I walked but slowly, the night wained apace. The labourers of the
day were all retired to rest; the lights were out in every cottage; no
sounds were heard but of the shrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed
watch-dog, at hollow distance. I approached my little abode of
pleasure, and before I was within a furlong of the place, our honest
mastiff came running to welcome me.
It was now near mid-night that I came to knock at my door: all was
still and silent: my heart dilated with unutterable happiness, when, to
my amazement, I saw the house bursting out in a blaze of fire, and
every apperture red with conflagration! I gave a loud convulsive
outcry, and fell upon the pavement insensible. This alarmed my son, who
had till this been asleep, and he perceiving the flames, instantly
waked my wife and daughter, and all running out, naked, and wild with
apprehension, recalled me to life with their anguish. But it was only
to objects of new terror; for the flames had, by this time, caught the
roof of our dwelling, part after part continuing to fall in, while the
family stood, with silent agony, looking on, as if they enjoyed the
blaze. I gazed upon them and upon it by turns, and then looked round me
for my two little ones; but they were not to be seen. O misery!
‘Where,’ cried I, ‘where are my little ones?’—‘They are burnt to death
in the flames,’ says my wife calmly, ‘and I will die with them.’—That
moment I heard the cry of the babes within, who were just awaked by the
fire, and nothing could have stopped me. ‘Where, where, are my
children?’ cried I, rushing through the flames, and bursting the door
of the chamber in which they were confined, ‘Where are my little
ones?’—‘Here, dear papa, here we are,’ cried they together, while the
flames were just catching the bed where they lay. I caught them both in
my arms, and snatched them through the fire as fast as possible, while
just as I was got out, the roof sunk in. ‘Now,’ cried I, holding up my
children, ‘now let the flames burn on, and all my possessions perish.
Here they are, I have saved my treasure. Here, my dearest, here are our
treasures, and we shall yet be happy.’ We kissed our little darlings a
thousand times, they clasped us round the neck, and seemed to share our
transports, while their mother laughed and wept by turns.
I now stood a calm spectator of the flames, and after some time, began
to perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched in a terrible
manner. It was therefore out of my power to give my son any assistance,
either in attempting to save our goods, or preventing the flames
spreading to our corn. By this time, the neighbours were alarmed, and
came running to our assistance; but all they could do was to stand,
like us, spectators of the calamity. My goods, among which were the
notes I had reserved for my daughters’ fortunes, were entirely
consumed, except a box, with some papers that stood in the kitchen, and
two or three things more of little consequence, which my son brought
away in the beginning. The neighbours contributed, however, what they
could to lighten our distress. They brought us cloaths, and furnished
one of our out-houses with kitchen utensils; so that by day-light we
had another, tho’ a wretched, dwelling to retire to. My honest next
neighbour, and his children, were not the least assiduous in providing
us with every thing necessary, and offering what ever consolation
untutored benevolence could suggest.
When the fears of my family had subsided, curiosity to know the cause
of my long stay began to take place; having therefore informed them of
every particular, I proceeded to prepare them for the reception of our
lost one, and tho’ we had nothing but wretchedness now to impart, I was
willing to procure her a welcome to what we had. This task would have
been more difficult but for our recent calamity, which had humbled my
wife’s pride, and blunted it by more poignant afflictions. Being unable
to go for my poor child myself, as my arm grew very painful, I sent my
son and daughter, who soon returned, supporting the wretched
delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her mother, whom no
instructions of mine could persuade to a perfect reconciliation; for
women have a much stronger sense of female error than men. ‘Ah, madam,’
cried her mother, ‘this is but a poor place you are come to after so
much finery. My daughter Sophy and I can afford but little
entertainment to persons who have kept company only with people of
distinction. Yes, Miss Livy, your poor father and I have suffered very
much of late; but I hope heaven will forgive you.’—During this
reception, the unhappy victim stood pale and trembling, unable to weep
or to reply; but I could not continue a silent spectator of her
distress, wherefore assuming a degree of severity in my voice and
manner, which was ever followed with instant submission, ‘I entreat,
woman, that my words may be now marked once for all: I have here
brought you back a poor deluded wanderer; her return to duty demands
the revival of our tenderness. The real hardships of life are now
coming fast upon us, let us not therefore encrease them by dissention
among each other. If we live harmoniously together, we may yet be
contented, as there are enough of us to shut out the censuring world,
and keep each other in countenance. The kindness of heaven is promised
to the penitent, and let ours be directed by the example. Heaven, we
are assured, is much more pleased to view a repentant sinner, than
ninety nine persons who have supported a course of undeviating
rectitude. And this is right; for that single effort by which we stop
short in the downhill path to perdition, is itself a greater exertion
of virtue, than an hundred acts of justice.’