This period, which I had anticipated with rapture, was soon clouded by
the gradual decay, and premature death, of my revered and excellent
guardian. He sustained a painful and tedious sickness with unshaken
fortitude;--with more, with chearfulness. I knelt by his bedside on the
day of his decease; and, while I bathed his hand with my tears, caught
hope from the sweet, the placid, serenity of his countenance, and could
not believe the terrors of dissolution near.
'The last sentiment of my heart,' said he, 'is gratitude to the Being
who has given me so large a portion of good; and I resign my family into
his hands with confidence.'
He awoke from a short slumber, a few minutes before his death.--'Emma,'
said he, in a faint voice, (as I grasped his cold hand between both
mine) turning upon me a mild, yet dying, eye, 'I have had a pleasant
sleep--Be a good girl, and comfort your aunt!'--
He expired without a groan, or a struggle--'His death was the serene
evening of a beautiful day!' I gazed on his lifeless remains, the day
before their interment, and the features still wore the same placid,
smiling benignity. I was then about fourteen years of age,--this first
emotion of real sorrow rent my heart asunder!
The sensations of Mrs Melmoth were those of agonizing, suffocating
anguish:--the fair prospect of domestic felicity was veiled for ever!
This was the second strong impression which struck my opening mind.
Many losses occurred, in consequence of foreign connections, in the
settlement of Mr Melmoth's affairs.--The family found their fortunes
scanty, and their expectations limited:--their numerous fair-professing
acquaintance gradually deserted them, and they sunk into oeconomical
retirement; but they continued to be respectable, because they knew how
to contract their wants, and to preserve their independence.
My aunt, oppressed with sorrow, could be roused only by settling the
necessary plans for the future provision of her family. Occupied with
these concerns, or absorbed in grief, we were left for some time to run
wild. Months revolved ere the tender sorrows of Mrs Melmoth admitted of
any mitigation: they at length yielded only to tender melancholy. My
wonted amusements were no more; a deep gloom was spread over our
once cheerful residence; my avidity for books daily increased; I
subscribed to a circulating library, and frequently read, or rather
devoured--little careful in the selection--from ten to fourteen novels
in a week.