One morning the news paper of the day being brought in, Mrs Thornby

taking it up, read to her daughter a paragraph which contained an

account of a battle in Germany wherein many of the English were said to

be slain, but few of their names specified. Louisa immediately turned

pale, her work dropped out of her hand and a universal trembling seized

her. Mrs Thornby was too attentive not to observe her daughter's

distress, and so kindly inquired the reason that Louisa ventured to tell

her for whom she was so much interested; and gave an exact account of

Sir Edward's address to her, her behaviour upon it, and the great regard

she had for him.

Mrs Thornby affectionately chid her for having till then concealed a

circumstance whereon so much of her happiness depended, and offered to

write to Lady Lambton immediately, and acquaint her that if want of

fortune was her only objection to Miss Mancel, it no longer subsisted,

for that she was ready to answer any demands of that sort which her

ladyship should choose to make, as she thought she should no way so well

secure her daughter's happiness as by uniting her with a gentleman of

Sir Edward's amiable character, and whose affection for her had so

evidently appeared.

Louisa could not reject an offer which might rescue Sir Edward from the

dangers that threatened him, and with pleasure thought of rewarding so

generous and so sincere a passion. Perhaps she found some gratification

in shewing that gratitude alone dictated her refusal. The letter was

immediately dispatched, and received with great pleasure by Lady

Lambton, whose esteem for Miss Mancel would have conquered any thing but

her pride. She accepted the proposal in the politest manner, and that

Sir Edward might be acquainted with his happiness as soon as possible,

dispatched her steward into Germany, ordering him to travel with the

utmost expedition, and gave him Mrs Thornby's letter, with one from

herself, containing an account of the great change in Louisa's fortune.

The servant obeyed the directions given him and performed the journey in

as short a time as possible; but as he entered the camp, he met Sir

Edward indeed, but not as a future bridegroom. He was borne on men's

shoulders, pale and almost breathless, just returned from an attack,

where by his too great rashness he had received a mortal wound. He

followed him with an aching heart to his tent, where Sir Edward

recovering his senses, knew him, and asked what brought him there so

opportunely, 'to close his eyes, and pay the last duties, to one of

whose infancy he had been so careful?' for this servant lived in the

family when Sir Edward was born, and loved him almost with paternal

fondness, which occasioned his desire of being himself the messenger of

such joyful news.

The poor man was scarcely able to answer a question expressed in such

melancholy terms, and was doubtful whether he ought to acquaint him with

a circumstance which might only increase his regret at losing a life

which would have been blessed to his utmost wish, but incapable in that

state of mind of inventing any plausible reason, he told him the truth,

and gave him the two letters.

The pleasure Sir Edward received at the account of Louisa's good

fortune, and the still greater joy he felt at so evident a proof of her

regard for him, made him for a time forget his pains, and flattered the

good old steward with hopes that his case was not so desperate as the

surgeons represented it; but Sir Edward told him he knew all hope was

vain. 'I must accuse myself,' said he, 'of losing that lovely generous

woman what a treasure would have gladdened my future days had I not

rashly, I fear criminally, shortened them, not by my own hand indeed,

but how little different! Mad with despair, I have sought all means of

obtaining what I imagined the only cure for my distempered mind. Weary

of life, since I could not possess her in whom all my joys, all the

wishes of my soul were centred, I seized every occasion of exposing

myself to the enemy's sword. Contrary to my hopes, I escaped many

times, when death seemed unavoidable, but grown more desperate by

disappointment, I this morning went on an attack where instead of

attempting to conquer, all my endeavour was to be killed, and at last I

succeeded, how fatally! Oh! my Louisa,' continued he, 'and do I then

lose thee by my own impatience! Had I, like thee, submitted to the

disposition of providence, had I waited, from its mighty power, that

relief which it alone can give, I might now be expecting with rapture

the hour that should have united us for ever, instead of preparing for

that which shall summon me to the grave, where even thou shalt be

forgotten, and the last traces of thy lovely image effaced from my too

faithful remembrance. How just are the decrees of the Almighty! Thy

patience, thy resignation and uncommon virtues are rewarded as they

ought; my petulance, my impatience, which, as it were, flew in the face

of my Maker, and fought to lose a life which he had entrusted to my

keeping, and required me to preserve, is deservedly punished. I am

deprived of that existence which I would now endure whole ages of pain

to recall, were it to be done, but it is past and I submit to thy

justice, thou all wise disposer of my fate.'

The agitation of Sir Edward's mind had given him a flow of false

spirits, but at length they failed, leaving him only the more exhausted.

He kept Mrs Thornby's letter on his pillow, and read it many times.

Frequent were his expressions of regret for his own rashness, and he

felt much concern from the fear that Louisa would be shocked with his

death. Her mother's proceedings convinced him she was not void of regard

for him; he now saw that he had not vainly flattered himself when he

imagined, from many little circumstances, that her heart spoke in his

favour; and the force she must have put on her affections raised his

opinion of her almost to adoration. He often told his faithful attendant

that in those moments he felt a joy beyond what he had ever yet

experienced, in believing Louisa loved him; but these emotions were soon

checked by reflecting, that if she did so, she could not hear of his

death without suffering many heart-felt pangs.

He lingered for three days, without the least encouragement to hope for

life, and on the last died with great resignation, receiving his death

as a punishment justly due to his want of submission in the divine will,

and that forward petulance which drove him to desperation in not

succeeding to his wishes just at the time that to his impetuous

passions, and short-sighted reason, appeared most desirable.

The afflicted steward wrote an account, of this melancholy event to Lady

Lambton, and stayed to attend Sir Edward's body home, that his last

remains might be deposited in the family vault.

Lady Lambton received these mournful tidings with excessive grief, and

communicated them to Mrs Thornby. Louisa, from the time of the

messenger's setting out for Germany, had been pleasing herself with

reflecting on the joyful reception he would meet with from Sir Edward,

and had frequently anticipated, in imagination, the pleasures she and

Sir Edward would receive at seeing each other after so melancholy a

separation. She now every hour expected him, and when Mrs Thornby began

to prepare her against surprise, she imagined he was arrived and that

her kind mother was endeavouring to guard her against too sudden joy.

She attempted to break through the delay which must arise from all this

caution by begging to know if he was in the house, desiring her not to

fear any ill effects from his sudden appearance, and rose from her seat,

in order to attend her mother to Sir Edward. Mrs Thornby made her sit

down again, and with a countenance which spoke very different things

from what she expected, acquainted her with the fatal end of all her

hopes.

Louisa was shocked in proportion to the degree to which she was before

elated. She sunk lifeless in the arms of her mother, who had clasped her

to her breast, and it was a considerable time before their cruel

endeavours to bring her to her senses succeeded. Her first sensation was

an agony of grief; she accused herself of being the occasion of Sir

Edward's death, and from the unfortunate consequences of her actions,

arraigned her motives for them. Mrs Thornby and Mr d'Avora, whom she

had sent for on this occasion, endeavoured to convince her she was no

way to blame, that what she had done was laudable, and she ought not to

judge of an action by its consequences, which must always remain in the

hands of the Almighty, to whom we are accountable for our motives, but

who best knows when they ought to be crowned with success. When they had

prevailed with her to exculpate herself, her piety and patience made it

the more easy to persuade her calmly to submit to the decrees of

providence. She soon saw that to suffer was her duty, and though she

might grieve, she must not repine. The good advice of her two friends

was some support to her mind, but her chief strength arose from her

frequent petitions to him who tried her in sufferings to grant her

patience to bear them with due resignation. Such addresses, fervently

and sincerely made, can never be unavailing, and she found the

consolation she asked for. Her affliction was deep, but silent and

submissive, and in no part of her life did she ever appear more amiable

than on this trying occasion when her extreme sensibility could never

extort one word or thought which was not dictated by humble piety, and

the most exemplary resignation. That Sir Edward had had so just a sense

of his own error, and so properly repented his impatience was a great

consolation, and she hoped to meet him whom she had so soon lost, in a

state of happiness where they should never more be parted.

Mrs Morgan had borne a tender share in all Louisa's joys and sorrows;

for in the frequency of her correspondence every circumstance that

attended the latter was faithfully imparted, though the communication

was less free on Mrs Morgan's side, who, contrary to her natural temper,

acted with reserve on this particular; induced by a double motive, a

belief that it was her duty to conceal her husband's faults, and a

desire to spare her friend the pain of suffering participation in her

vexations. She longed to attend Miss Mancel in her affliction, but dared

not urge a request with which she knew Mr Morgan would not comply. He

lived entirely in the country and seemed to be totally insensible to the

pleasure of contributing to the happiness of others. All his tenderness

was confined within the narrow circle of himself. Mrs Morgan daily

beheld distress and poverty without the power of relieving it, for his

parsimony would not let him trust her with the disposal of what money

was necessary for her own expenses, his sister always brought what they

in their wisdoms judged requisite, and Mrs Morgan was treated in those

affairs like a little child.

In matters too trifling to come within Mr Morgan's notice, Miss Susanna,

fearing her sister should enjoy a moment's ease, took care to perform

her part in teasing, as if their joint business was only to keep that

poor woman in a constant state of suffering. To complete her vexation,

Mr Morgan, who had always drank hard, increased so much in that vice

that few days passed wherein he was not totally intoxicated. Mrs Morgan

saw no means of redress, and therefore thought it best to suffer without

complaint; she considered that, by contention, she could not prevail

over their ill temper, but must infallibly sour her own, and destroy

that composure of mind necessary to enable every one to acquit herself

well in all Christian duties. By this patient acquiescence her virtues

were refined, though her health suffered, and she found some

satisfaction in reflecting that him whom she most wished to please would

graciously accept her endeavours, however unavailing they might be

towards obtaining the favour of those on whom her earthly peace

depended.

At this part of Mrs Maynard's narration we were again interrupted by

dinner, but the arrival of some visitors in the afternoon afforded

Lamont and myself an opportunity of begging her to give us the sequel,

and for that purpose we chose a retired seat in the garden, when she

thus proceeded.

The next six years of Miss Mancel's life passed in a perfect calm; this

may appear too cold an expression, since her situation was such as would

by most people have been thought consummate happiness. Mrs Thornby's

ample fortune enabled them to live in great figure, and Miss Mancel's

beauty and understanding rendered her the object of general admiration.

Had her conduct been less admirable, she could not but have acquired

many lovers; it is not strange then, such as she was, that she should be

addressed by many men of distinguished rank and fortune. Wherever she

appeared, she attracted all eyes and engrossed the whole attention. Mrs

Thornby, more delighted with the admiration paid her daughter than she

herself, carried her frequently into public and kept a great deal of

company. Louisa could not be insensible to general approbation, but was

hurt with the serious attachment of those who more particularly

addressed her. As she was determined never to marry, thinking it a sort

of infidelity to a man whose death was owing to his affection for her,

she always took the first opportunity of discouraging every pursuit of

that kind; and restrained the natural vivacity of her temper lest it

should give rise to any hopes which could end only in disappointment.

She endeavoured to make publicly known her fixed determination never to

marry; but as those resolutions are seldom thought unalterable, many men

flattered themselves that their rank and fortunes, with their personal

merits, might conquer so strange an intention, and therefore would not

desist without an express refusal.

In the seventh year after Mrs Thornby's return into England, she was

taken off by a fever, and left Miss Mancel, at twenty-four years of age,

in possession of forty thousand pounds, a fortune which could not afford

her consolation for the loss of so tender a parent. Having nothing to

attach her to any particular part of the kingdom, she more than ever

longed to settle in Mrs Morgan's neighbourhood, but feared to occasion

some new uneasiness to her friend, and was sensible that if, when

vicinity favoured them, they should be denied the pleasure of each

other's company, or very much restrained in it, the mortification would

be still greater than when distance would not permit them to meet. She

had the satisfaction of hearing from her friend that Mr Morgan seemed to

esteem her more than for some years after their marriage, and often gave

her reason to think he did not despise her understanding and was well

pleased with her conduct. The truth was, this gentleman's eyes were at

last opened to the merits of his wife's behaviour, the long trial he

had made of her obedience, which was implicit and performed with

apparent cheerfulness; if compared with his sister's conduct, could not

fail of appearing in an amiable light, when he was no longer beset with

the malicious insinuations of Susanna, who had bestowed herself on a

young ensign whose small hopes of preferment in the army reduced him to

accept that lady and her fortune as a melancholy resource, but his only

certain provision. This alteration in Mr Morgan's temper gave Mrs Morgan

and Louisa room to hope that he might not always continue averse to

their becoming neighbours.

While they were flattering themselves with this agreeable prospect, Mr

Morgan was seized with a paralytic disorder which at first attacked his

limbs, but in a very short time affected his head so much as almost to

deprive him of his senses. He was totally confined to his bed, and

seemed not to know any one but his wife. He would take neither medicine

nor nourishment except from her hands; as he was entirely lame, she was

obliged to feed him, and he was not easy if she was out of the room.

Even in the night he would frequently call to her; if she appeared at

his bedside, he was then contented, being sure she was in the chamber,

but would fall into violent passions which he had not words to express

(for he was almost deprived of his speech) if she did not instantly

appear.

When Miss Mancel heard of his deplorable situation, she was under the

greatest apprehensions for her friend's health, from so close and so

fatiguing an attendance, and begged she might come to her, as he was

then incapable of taking umbrage at it. The offer was too agreeable to

be rejected, and these ladies met after so long an enforced separation

with a joy not to be imagined by any heart less susceptible than theirs

of the tender and delicate sensations of friendship. Louisa was almost

as constantly in Mr Morgan's room in the day time as his wife, though

she kept out of his sight, and thus they had full opportunity of

conversing together; for though the sick man often called Mrs Morgan,

yet as soon as he saw she was in the chamber he sunk again into that

state of stupefaction from which he never recovered. Mrs Morgan put a

bed up in his room, and lay there constantly, but as he was as

solicitous to know she was present in the night, as in the day, she

could never quite undress herself the whole time of his sickness.

In this condition Mr Morgan lay for three months, when death released

him from this world; and brought a seasonable relief to Mrs Morgan,

whose health was so impaired by long confinement and want of quiet rest

that she could not much longer have supported it; and vexation had

before so far impaired her constitution that nothing could have enabled

her to undergo so long a fatigue, but the infinite joy she received from

Miss Mancel's company.

When Mr Morgan's will was opened, it appeared that he had left his wife

an estate which fell to him about a month before the commencement of his

illness, where we now live. The income of it is a thousand pounds a

year, the land was thoroughly stocked and the house in good repair. Mr

Morgan had at his marriage settled a jointure on his wife of four

hundred pounds a year rent charge, and in a codicil made just after his

sister's wedding, he bequeathed her two thousand pounds in ready money.

After Mrs Morgan had settled all her affairs, it was judged necessary

that, for the recovery of her health, she should go to Tunbridge, to

which place Miss Mancel accompanied her. As Mrs Morgan's dress confined

her entirely at home, they were not in the way of making many

acquaintances; but Lady Mary Jones being in the house, and having long

been known to Miss Mancel, though no intimacy had subsisted between

them, they now became much connected. The two friends had agreed to

retire into the country, and though both of an age and fortune to enjoy

all the pleasures which most people so eagerly pursue, they were

desirous of fixing in a way of life where all their satisfactions might

be rational and as conducive to eternal as to temporal happiness. They

had laid the plan of many things, which they have since put into

execution, and engaged Mr d'Avora to live with them, both as a valuable

friend and a useful assistant in the management of their affairs.

Lady Mary was at that time so much in the same disposition, and so

charmed with such part of their scheme as they communicated to her, that

she begged to live with them for half a year, by which time they would

be able to see whether they chose her continuance there, and she should

have experienced how far their way of life was agreeable to her. Lady

Mary's merit was too apparent not to obtain their ready consent to her

proposal, and when they had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs Morgan much

recovered by the waters, and no farther benefit was expected, they came

to this house.

They found it sufficiently furnished, and in such good order, that they

settled in it without trouble. The condition of the poor soon drew their

attention, and they instituted schools for the young and almshouses for

the old. As they ordered everything in their own family with great

economy, and thought themselves entitled only to a part of their

fortunes, their large incomes allowed them full power to assist many

whose situations differed very essentially from theirs. The next expense

they undertook, after this establishment of schools and almshouses, was

that of furnishing a house for every young couple that married in their

neighbourhood, and providing them with some sort of stock, which by

industry would prove very conducive towards their living in a

comfortable degree of plenty. They have always paid nurses for the sick,

sent them every proper refreshment, and allow the same sum weekly which

the sick person could have gained, that the rest of the family may not

lose any part of their support by the incapacity of one.

When they found their fortunes would still afford a larger

communication, they began to receive the daughters of persons in office,

or other life-incomes, who, by their parents' deaths, were left

destitute of provision; and when, among the lower sort, they meet with

an uncommon genius, they will admit her among the number. The girls you

see sit in the room with us are all they have at present in that way;

they are educated in such a manner as will render them acceptable where

accomplished women of a humble rank and behaviour are wanted, either for

the care of a house or children. These girls are never out of the room

with us, except at breakfast and dinner, and after eight o'clock in the

evening, at which times they are under the immediate care of the

housekeeper, with whom they are allowed to walk out for an hour or two

every fine day, lest their being always in our company should make them

think their situation above a menial state; they attend us while we are

dressing, and we endeavour that the time they are thus employed shall

not pass without improvement. They are clad coarse and plain for the

same reason, as nothing has a stronger influence on vanity than dress.

Each of us takes our week alternately of more particular inspection over

the performances of these girls, and they all read by turns aloud to

such of us as are employed about any thing that renders it not

inconvenient to listen to them. By this sort of education my friends

hope to do extensive good, for they will not only serve these poor

orphans, but confer a great benefit on all who shall be committed to

their care or have occasion for their service; and one can set no bounds

to the advantages that may arise from persons of excellent principles,

and enlarged understandings, in the situations wherein they are to be

placed. In every thing their view is to be as beneficial to society as

possible, and they are such economists even in their charities as to

order them in a manner that as large a part of mankind as possible

should feel the happy influence of their bounty.

In this place, and in this way of life, the three ladies already

mentioned have lived upwards of twenty years; for Lady Mary Jones joined

her fortune to those of the two friends, never choosing to quit them,

and is too agreeable not to be very desirable in the society. Miss

Mancel has often declared that she plainly sees the merciful hand of

providence bringing good out of evil, in an event which she, at the time

it happened, thought her greatest misfortune; for had she married Sir

Edward Lambton, her sincere affection for him would have led her to

conform implicitly to all his inclinations, her views would have been

confined to this earth, and too strongly attached to human objects to

have properly obeyed the giver of the blessings she so much valued, who

is generally less thought of in proportion as he is more particularly

bountiful. Her age, her fortune and compliant temper might have seduced

her into dissipation and have made her lose all the heart-felt joys she

now daily experiences, both when she reflects on the past, contemplates

the present, or anticipates the future.

A Description of Millenium Hall And the Country Adjacent Together with the Characters of the Inhabitants and Such Historical Anecdotes and Reflections As May Excite in the Reader Proper Sentiments of Humanity, and Lead the Mind to the Love of Virtue · 第 9 / 18 段