On my arrival at Mr Morton's, the porter informed me, he was ordered
by his lady, to deny my entrance. My swelling heart!--a sentiment of
indignation distended it almost to suffocation.--At this moment, Anne
tripped lightly through the court-yard, and, seeing me, ran to embrace
me. I returned her caresses with warmth.
'Ah!' said she, 'you are not, you cannot be, guilty. I have been longing
to see you, and to hear all that has happened, but it was not permitted
me.' She added, in a whisper, 'I cannot love my mother, for she torments
and restrains me--my desire of liberty is stronger than my duty--but I
shall one day be able to outwit her.'
'Will not your father, my love, allow me to speak with him? I have a
right to be heard, and I demand his attention.'
'He is in his dressing-room,' said Ann, 'I will slide softly, to him,
and tell him you are here.'
Away she flew, and one of the footmen presently returned, to conduct me
to his master. I found him alone, he received me with a grave and severe
aspect. I related to him, circumstantially, the occurrences which had
taken place during his absence. My words, my voice, my manner, were
emphatic--animated with the energy of truth--they extorted, they
commanded, they, irresistibly, compelled assent. His features softened,
his eyes glistened, he held out his hand, he was about to speak--he
hesitated a moment, and sighed. At this instant, Mrs Morton burst into
the room, with the aspect of a fury--her bloated countenance yet more
swelled and hideous--I shrunk back involuntarily--she poured forth a
torrent of abuse and invective. A momentary recollection reassured
me--waiting till she had exhausted her breath, I turned from her, and
to her husband, with calm dignity--
'I thank you, Sir, for all the kindness I have received from you--I am
convinced you do me justice--_for this I do not thank you_, it was a
duty to which I had a claim, and which you owed, not only to me, but,
to yourself. My longer continuance in this house, I feel, would be
improper. For the present, I return to Mrs Harley's, where I shall
respectfully receive, and maturely weigh, any counsels with which you
may in future think proper to favour me.'
Mr Morton bowed his head; poor man! his mild spirit was overborne, he
dared not assert the dictates of his own reason. I hurried out of
the apartment, and hastily embracing Ann, who awaited me in the hall,
charging myself with a hundred kisses for Mrs Harley, I took the way to
the hospitable mansion of my friend.
I had proceeded about half a mile, when I beheld Augustus, advancing
towards me; he observed my tremulous emotions, and pallid countenance;
he took my hand, holding it with a gentle pressure, and, throwing
his other arm round me, supported my faultering steps. His voice
was the voice of kindness--his words spake assurance, and breathed
hope--_fallacious hope!_--My heart melted within me--my tremor
encreased--I dissolved into tears.
'A deserted outcast from society--a desolate orphan--what was to become
of me--to whom could I fly?'
'Unjust girl! have I then forfeited all your confidence--have you not a
mother and a friend, who love you--' he stopped--paused--and added 'with
maternal, with _fraternal_, tenderness? to whom would you go?--remain
with us, your society will cheer my mother's declining years'--again
he hesitated,--'I am about to return to town, assure me, that you will
continue with Mrs Harley--it will soften the pain of separation.'
I struggled for more fortitude--hinted at the narrowness of my fortune--at
my wish to exert my talents in some way, that should procure me a less
dependent situation--spoke of my active spirit--of my abhorrence of a
life of indolence and vacuity.
He insisted on my waving these subjects for the present. 'There would
be time enough, in future, for their consideration. In the mean while,
I might go on improving myself, and whether present or absent, might
depend upon him, for every assistance in his power.'
His soothing kindness, aided by the affectionate attentions of my
friend, gradually, lulled my mind into tranquillity. My bosom was
agitated, only, by a slight and sweet emotion--like the gentle
undulations of the ocean, when the winds, that swept over its ruffled
surface, are hushed into repose.