right," said he. "We are, indeed, bereaved of every thing else, and
shall we forsake each other? Ah, Amaranthé!" he continued, his eyes
swimming in tears, "time was when all our joys and all our wishes
centred in each other. How fondly you once loved me--and is it at an
end? Will you love me no more?" The native good feelings of Amaranthé's
heart, that had so long lain dormant, were now revived. Bursting into an
agony of crying, she threw her arms round her brother's neck, and sobbed
out, "Yes, yes, dear Adrian; I love you better than ever. Oh, do but be
kind to me, and I will cease to deplore the loss of my beauty." After
embracing her affectionately, Adrian, looking mournfully round,
observed--"This was the scene of our childish sports. How joyously we
bounded like fawns over this lawn! When turning our hoops or tossing our
balls, how little cared I for riches or you for beauty! And there,"
pointing with his hand, "is the shrubbery where we used to play at hide
and seek, and laugh at poor Claribel for not being able to find us. See
the woodbine that you and she used to twine round my hat and crook, when
I played at being a shepherd."
"And those," said Amaranthé, "are the trees you so often climbed to get
birds' eggs for Claribel and me to string, when we pretended to be
hermits, and called them our rosaries!"
"Happy, happy days of blessed innocence!" groaned out her brother;
"would to heaven ye could be recalled! Never again would I barter ye for
grandeur and licentiousness!"
While the unhappy trio continued weeping over these painful
recollections, they suddenly observed an extraordinary appearance in the
air. A large machine, resembling a car, was hovering in it, and at
length descending slowly to the earth fixed itself at no great distance
from them. They then saw a lady clad in a purple robe, with a long white
wand in her hand, step out of it and advance towards them. They were
immediately struck with the belief that it was the fairy, but with what
different sensations did the brother and sister now greet her, to those
which her first appearance had occasioned! Confused and dismayed, they
would have fled from her presence had not terror rendered them
motionless, for they doubted not that she was come to reproach them, if
not to punish their ill conduct. When she drew nearer, and they ventured
to look at her again, they discovered that the figure was taller and
more dignified than that of Felicia. Her face was not so fair, and its
expression was more solemn, but her countenance was more commanding, and
her aspect altogether inspired awe and veneration. "Perhaps," whispered
Claribel, "it is the fairy Benigna." The minds of her cousins assented
to this suggestion, but it by no means diminished their apprehensions.
If they had so much cause to dread the censure of Felicia, what had they
to hope from the severe Benigna?
Trembling, and not daring to speak or move, they stood before her,
while she regarded them for some time in silence, with looks that lost
much of their solemnity, and expressed pity and benevolence. Then, in a
mild tone, said, "Poor hapless victims of ignorance and error, your
consciences tell you that I am come to inflict the chastisement due to
your folly and guilt; but lay aside your fears. I can allow for and
compassionate the offences of feeble mortality. I am come to take you
from this scene of desolation and disgrace, which can only remind you of
lost happiness. Are you willing to trust yourselves with me?" Whatever
the private inclinations of the party might be, they were too much in
awe of this powerful being to offer any resistance to her will: they
only bowed in token of submission. She then placed them all in the car,
and mounting it herself after them, waved her wand when the machine
arose with a gentle motion into the air, which it wafted them through,
but at what rate, or whither to, they could not judge. They were so
amazed, and their senses so bewildered, that they almost doubted if they
were awake, or whether all that had passed were not a dream!
They could not calculate how long they had been travelling in this easy
manner, when they found the vehicle again descending to the earth, where
it rested before a white house, that had every appearance of neatness
and comfort, though not of magnificence.
It was situated in the middle of a garden, laid out in excellent taste,
and well stored with fruits, flowers, and shrubs of all kinds, bounded
by verdant meadows, with a fine river passing through them, and the
surrounding country richly cultivated, and luxuriantly beautiful.
Their conductress desired them to enter the house, where the first
objects that met their view, were Ursula and Gabriel, who had been
conveyed thither by the agents of the fairy, and who welcomed them with
raptures of joy.
Benigna led them through the apartments which were sufficiently spacious
for convenience, and fitted up with elegance and propriety. The last she
introduced them into was, a library, furnished with a large collection
of books, maps, globes, &c. "And now, my young friends," said she, "do
you think you can be happy in such a habitation as this?" Adrian,
willing to ingratiate himself in her opinion, promptly replied, "Ah,
Madam, we shall be most happy to receive any favour from you. You, no
doubt, will always continue your generous kindness, and not desert us
like the treacherous Felicia."
"Presumptuous mortal!" answered Benigna, with a frown, "what right
have you or your sister to call Felicia treacherous? Did you not
obstinately persist in choosing the gifts she warned you against? And
did either of you practise the good precepts she gave you with them? Had
they been observed, you are conscious that you might still have been
rich, and Amaranthé handsome. But come," she added, observing the effect
her words had upon them, "be not alarmed. My design is not to arraign,
but to instruct. The fact is, my sister is not treacherous, but she is
injudicious. Her power is very limited, and the few gifts she has to
bestow, are more likely to ensnare than to benefit those whom she means
to serve. She gave you, indeed, good advice, but she could not endow you
with the good sense that would enable you to follow it. Even you, my
quiet Claribel, have not, I fancy, profited much by her favor. Say, were
you very happy in the possession of your lily?" Claribel, after
considering a little, answered, "I do not know that I was absolutely
happy. I was, indeed, always contented, as she promised I should be, and
never felt inclined to repine, or be vexed at any thing; but I do not
remember ever experiencing any particular pleasure." "No," returned the
fairy, "nor would any one under such circumstances. The content Felicia
bestowed on you, was not the happy result of a well-regulated mind,
satisfied with its own exertions, and the performance of those duties
incumbent on all rational beings. It was indolence, mistaken for a
virtue. A being endued with reason, of which it obeys not the dictates;
with faculties, of which it makes no use, but is content to occupy its
station in life without fulfilling the purposes for which it was placed
there, is scarcely less censurable than those who waste their time in
riot and dissipation. Others may reap some advantage from their follies,
but no benefit can be derived from a mere moving machine."
The vaunted favorite of Felicia found herself no higher in the esteem
of Benigna than her indiscreet cousins, and felt ready to sink under her
reproving eye; but, resuming her benevolent aspect, the fairy continuing
her discourse, said, "take courage, my children, you are none of you
irreclaimable, and may hope, by your future conduct, to make some amends
for past transgressions. The fault has not been so much in yourselves,
as in those whose duty it was to have prepared you for the trials and
temptations, that you had little chance of passing through the world
without encountering. Now, let me try if this wand cannot confer more
lasting happiness than the roses and hyacinths of my sister." So saying,
she waved it gently over their heads. In a moment, they all felt like
new-created beings. They seemed to awaken to a different sense of
existence. They became painfully sensible of their own deficiencies, and
of the deplorable want of education, yet the pain was alleviated by the
cheering influence of the light let in upon them, and the earnest desire
they felt for improvement.
"You are now," said Benigna, "all conscious of the folly and uselessness
of your past lives; and if my wand has done its duty, you are equally
willing to repair the evils they have been the cause of. As I before
said, you have been less to blame than others. You wanted instruction in
every thing, but the chief and most important instruction you wanted,
was--principle! Had that been properly inculcated into you, all the ills
that have befallen you, might have been avoided. In this apartment,
(looking round,) you will find store for your minds, and employment of
the most pleasing kind for your time; but this (placing her hand on a
very large volume that was on a desk before her) must be your first and
most assiduous study. In these writings you will find how unnecessary is
the aid of fairies to your welfare, when by humbly imploring that of the
all-powerful Being who never forsakes those who resort to him, you will
secure those endless blessings that magic has not to bestow.
"But you probably wish to know where you are. Learn then that this
abode, and the fortune annexed to it, is no gift of mine; it is the
bequest of your uncle, who died in a foreign country. He, as well as the
rest of her friends, disapproved of his sister's connexion with a person
who had always conducted himself very ill towards him; and when the
marriage took place, his resentment was so great, that he forsook his
native country, accompanied by the friend whose return to it cost you
the loss of your parents. On his death-bed, your uncle's heart relented
in favour of his sister, to whom and her children, he bequeathed his
property, with an equal portion to his niece, Claribel. He consigned the
deed of gift to that friend, exacting a promise from him, that he would
deliver it only into your mother's hands. You already know how he was
prevented doing that; and when the priest, to whom he entrusted it, also
died, I took care to secure the deed for the purpose of restoring it to
your mother; but death defeated all our intentions.
"I should not have withheld your own property so long from you, had not
my sister taken you so hastily under her protection; but as I surmised
what the result of her patronage would be, I determined to reserve this
resource against the hour of distress, to which I had little doubt her
favours would reduce you. And now, my children, it only remains for you
to make a right use of these valuable possessions. You have not
boundless riches, but have sufficient to satisfy all your own reasonable
wants, and to administer to the wants of your suffering fellow beings. I
have furnished you with the means, as well as the desire of improvement.
Let the remembrance of your past errors, and the folly of your first
wishes, operate on your future conduct. Fail not to observe these
injunctions, and you will secure the love and esteem of all whose good
opinion you wish to obtain; and though I may never appear to you again,
my attendant spirit and good offices shall not be withdrawn."
So saying, the excellent fairy Benigna, casting on them all a look of
maternal affection, again gently waved her powerful wand, and vanished!
The fairy indeed vanished, and the wand was seen no more; but their
influence was still felt by the now happy and deserving orphans. They
assiduously obeyed her commands in seeking knowledge and instruction and
took care that their first study should be that volume to which she had
directed their attention. There Adrian learned that "in Godliness is
great riches," and Amaranthé found in "the beauty of holiness"--that
pure gratification and unabated happiness, that beauty of person, had no
chance of bestowing. Claribel, by "faith and good works," experienced
content, accompanied by real enjoyment, instead of the negative
satisfaction derived from her lily. She became as animated and active as
she had before been indolent and helpless.
Adrian, in acquiring wisdom, was able to indulge his natural good
propensities. He knew how to manage the fortune he possessed, and by
learning to be frugal could afford to be generous. His vivacity, now
tempered by good sense, was the delight of all to whom he was known; and
the happiness springing from a cultivated mind and corrected heart,
rendered him once more a joyous, but never a licentious spirit.
Amaranthé, though never restored to the radiant beauty of the hyacinth,
regained her original healthy and sprightly looks. The ease of her heart
was manifested in her countenance. She could behold beauty in others
without a repining sigh, nor coveted any other admiration than what her
uniform good conduct and commendable desire to please and oblige, always
procured for her.
Ursula had often the gratification of seeing her sweet young ladies
employed in the embroidery she had so industriously taught them for the
benefit of their indigent neighbours; and the faithful Gabriel enjoyed
the exquisite delight of knowing that his honoured young master and
mistresses obtained the blessings of the poor, and the respect of the
rich.
Thus these children of the old castle, whose lives began under such
unpromising auspices, and for whom I hope my young readers are
excessively interested, ended them as prosperously as mere human beings
can ever hope to do. They were happy because they were rational; and
being rational, they felt well disposed to laugh heartily at all absurd
stories about Fairies, Flower Baskets, and White Wands!
THE END.
BARNARD AND FARLEY,
_Skinner-Street_, _London_.
Transcriber's Note:
Spelling variations for choose/chuse, as well as archaic spelling
for controul and pourtrayed have been retained as the appear in
the original publication.