I was not above twelve Years old, as near as I can remember, when a Lady
of my Acquaintance, who was particularly concern'd in many of the
Passages, very pleasantly entertain'd me with the Relation of the young
Lady _Arabella's_ Adventures, who was eldest Daughter to Sir _Francis
Fairname_, a Gentleman of a noble Family, and of a very large Estate in
the West of _England_, a true Church-Man, a great Loyalist, and a most
discreetly-indulgent Parent; nor was his Lady any Way inferiour to him
in every Circumstance of Virtue. They had only two Children more, and
those were of the soft, unhappy Sex too; all very beautiful, especially
_Arabella_, and all very much alike; piously educated, and courtly too,
of naturally-virtuous Principles and Inclinations.
'Twas about the sixteenth Year of her Age, that Sir _Robert Richland_,
her Father's great Friend and inseparable Companion, but superiour to
him in Estate as well as Years, felt the resistless Beauty of this young
Lady raging and burning in his aged Veins, which had like to have been
as fatal to him, as a Consumption, or his Climacterical Year of Sixty
Three, in which he dy'd, as I am told, though he was then hardly Sixty.
However, the Winter Medlar would fain have been inoculated in the
Summer's Nacturine. His unseasonable Appetite grew so strong and
inordinate, that he was oblig'd to discover it to Sir _Francis_; who,
though he lov'd him very sincerely, had yet a Regard to his Daughter's
Youth, and Satisfaction in the Choice of a Husband; especially, when he
consider'd the great Disproportion in their Age, which he rightly
imagin'd would be very disagreeable to _Arabella's_ Inclinations: This
made him at first use all the most powerful and perswading Arguments in
his Capacity, to convince Sir _Robert_ of the Inequality of such a
Match, but all to no Purpose; for his Passion increasing each Day more
violently, the more assiduously, and with the greater Vehemence, he
press'd his Friend to use his Interest and Authority with his Lady and
Daughter, to consent to his almost unnatural Proposition; offering this
as the most weighty and prevailing Argument, (which undoubtedly it was,)
That since he was a Batchelor, he would settle his whole Estate upon
her, if she surviv'd him, on the Day of Marriage, not desiring one Penny
as a Portion with her. This Discourse wrought so powerfully with her
Mother, that she promis'd the old Lover all the Assistance he could hope
or expect from her: In order to which, the next Day she acquainted her
fair Daughter with the Golden Advantage she was like to have, if she
would but consent _to lye by the Parchment that convey'd them to her_.
The dear, fair Creature, was so surpriz'd at this Overture made by her
Mother, that her Roses turn'd all into Lillies, and she had like to have
swoon'd away; but having a greater Command of her Passions than usually
our Sex have, and chiefly Persons of her Age, she, after some little
Disorder, which by no Means she could dissemble, she made as dutiful a
Return to her Mother's Proposition, as her Aversion to it would permit;
and, for that Time, got Liberty to retreat, and lament in private the
Misfortune which she partly fore-saw was impending. But her Grief (alas)
was no Cure of her Malady; for the next Day she was again doubly
attack'd by her Father and Mother, with all the Reasons that Interest
and Duty could urge, which she endeavour'd to obviate by all the
Arguments that Nature and Inclination could offer; but she found them
all in vain, since they continu'd their ungrateful Solicitations for
several Days together, at the End of which, they both absolutely
commanded her to prepare her self for her Nuptials with Sir _Robert_; so
that finding her self under a Necessity of complying, or at least of
seeming so, she made 'em hope, that her Duty had overcome her Aversion;
upon which she had a whole Week's Liberty to walk where she would,
unattended, or with what Company she pleas'd, and to make Visits to whom
she had a Mind, either of her Relations or Acquaintance thereabouts;
tho' for three or four Days before, she was strictly confin'd to her
Chamber.
After Dinner, on the third Day of her Enlargement, being Summer Time,
she propos'd to her Mother that she would take a Walk to a Cousin of
hers, who liv'd about four Miles thence, to intreat her to be one of her
Bride-Maids, being then in a careless plain Dress, and having before
discours'd very pleasantly and freely of her Wedding-Day, of what
Friends she would have invited to that Solemnity, and what Hospitality
Sir _Robert_ should keep when she was marry'd to him: All which was
highly agreeable to her Parents, who then could not forbear thanking and
kissing her for it, which she return'd to 'em both with a Shower of
Tears. This did not a little surprize 'em at first, but asking her what
could cause such Signs of Sorrow, after so chearful a Discourse on the
late Subject? She answer'd, 'That the Thoughts of her going now suddenly
to live from so dear and tender a Father and Mother, were the sole
Occasion of such Expressions of Grief.' This affectionate Reply did
amply satisfy their Doubts; and she presently took Leave of 'em, after
having desir'd that they would not be uneasy if she should not return
'till a little before 'twas dark, or if her Cousin should oblige her to
stay all Night with her; which they took for a discreet Caution in her,
considering that young Maidens love dearly to talk of Marriage Affairs,
especially when so near at Hand: And thus easily parted with her, when
they had walk'd with her about a Mile, over a Field or two of their own.
Never before that Time was the dear Creature glad that her Father and
Mother had left her, unless when they had press'd her to a Marriage with
the old Knight. They were therefore no sooner got out of Sight, e're she
took another Path, that led cross the Country, which she persu'd 'till
past eight at Night, having walk'd ten Miles since two a Clock, when Sir
_Francis_ and her Mother left her: She was just now got to a little
Cottage, the poor, but cleanly Habitation of a Husbandman and his Wife,
who had one only Child, a Daughter, about the Lady _Arabella's_ Age and
Stature. 'Twas happy for her she got thither before they were a Bed; for
her soft and beautiful Limbs began now to be tir'd, and her tender Feet
to be gall'd. To the good Woman of the House she applies her self,
desiring Entertainment for that Night, offering her any reasonable
Satisfaction. The good Wife, at first Sight of her, had Compassion of
her, and immediately bid her walk in, telling her, that she might lye
with her Daughter, if she pleas'd, who was very cleanly, tho' not very
vine. The good Man of the House came in soon after, was very well
pleas'd with his new Guest; so to Supper they went very seasonably; for
the poor young Lady, who was e'en ready to faint with Thirst, and not
overcharg'd with what she had eaten the Day before. After Supper they
ask'd her whence she came, and how she durst venture to travel alone,
and a Foot? To which she reply'd, That she came from a Relation who
liv'd at _Exeter_, with whom she had stay'd 'till she found she was
burthensome: That she was of _Welsh_ Parents, and of a good Family; but
her Father dying, left a cruel Mother-in-Law, with whom she could by no
Means continue, especially since she would have forc'd her to marry an
old Man, whom it was impossible she should love, tho' he was very rich:
That she was now going to seek her Fortune in _London_, where she hop'd,
at least, to get her a good Service. They all seem'd to pity her very
heartily; and, in a little Time after, they went to their two several
Apartments, in one of which _Arabella_ and the Damsel of the House went
to Bed, where the young Lady slept soundly, notwithstanding the Hardness
of her Lodging. In the Morning, about Four, according to her laudable
Custom, the young hardy Maiden got up to her daily Employment; which
waken'd _Arabella_, who presently bethought her self of an Expedient for
her more secure and easy Escape from her Parents Pursuit and Knowledge,
proposing to her Bedfellow an Exchange of their Wearing-Apparel. The
Heiress and Hope of that little Family was extreamly fond of the
Proposal, and ran immediately to acquaint her Mother with it, who was so
well pleas'd, that she could hardly believe it, when the young Lady
confirm'd it, and especially, when she understood the Exchange was to be
made on even Hands. 'If you be in earnest, Forsooth, (said the Mother)
you shall e'en have her Sunday-Cloaths.' 'Agreed (return'd _Arabella_)
but we must change Shifts too; I have now a Couple about me, new and
clean, I do assure you: For my Hoods and Head-dress you shall give me
two Pinners, and her best Straw-Hat; and for my Shoes, which I have not
worn above a Week, I will have her Holliday Shoes.' 'A Match, indeed,
young Mistress,' cry'd the good Wife. So without more Ceremony, the
young unhappy Lady was attir'd in her Bedfellow's Country Weeds, by Help
of the Mother and Daughter. Then, after she had taken her Leave of the
good old Man too, she put a broad round Shilling into his Wife's Hand,
as a Reward for her Supper and Lodging, which she would fain have
return'd, but t'other would not receive it. 'Nay, then, by the Mackins,
(said her Hostess) you shall take a Breakfast e're you go, and a Dinner
along with you, for Fear you should be sick by the Way.' _Arabella_
stay'd to eat a Mess of warm Milk, and took some of their Yesterday's
Provision with her in a little course Linnen Bag. Then asking for the
direct Road to _London_, and begging a few green Wall-nuts, she took her
last Farewel of them.
Near Twelve at Noon she came to a pleasant Meadow, through which there
ran a little Rivulet of clear Water, about nine miles from her last
Lodging, but quite out of the Way to _London_. Here she sate down, and
after drinking some of the Water out of the Hollow of her Hand, she
open'd her Bag, and made as good a Meal as the Courseness of the Fare,
and the Niceness of her Appetite would permit: After which, she bruis'd
the outward green Shells of a Wall-nut or two, and smear'd her lovely
Face, Hands, and Part of her Arms, with the Juice; then looking into the
little purling Stream, that seem'd to murmur at the Injury she did to so
much Beauty, she sigh'd and wept, to think to what base Extremities she
was now likely to be reduc'd! That she should be forc'd to stain that
Skin which Heaven had made so pure and white! 'But ah! (cry'd she to her
self) if my Disobedience to my Parents had not stain'd my Conscience
worse, this needed not to have been done.' Here she wept abundantly
again; then, drying her Eyes, she wash'd her Feet to refresh 'em, and
thence continu'd her Journey for ten Miles more, which she compass'd by
seven a Clock; when she came to a Village, where she got Entertainment
for that Night, paying for it, and the next Morning, before Six, as soon
as she had fill'd her little Bag with what good Chear the Place
afforded, she wander'd on 'till Twelve again, still crossing the
Country, and taking her Course to the Northern Parts of _England_, which
doubtless was the Reason her Father and his Servants miss'd of her in
their Pursuit; for he imagin'd that for certain she had taken her
nearest Way to _London_. After she had refresh'd her self for an Hour's
Time by the Side of a Wood, she arose and wander'd again near twelve
Miles by eight a Clock, and lodg'd at a good substantial Farmer's.
Thus she continu'd her Errantry for above a Fortnight, having no more
Money than just thirty Shillings, half of which brought her to Sir
_Christian Kindly's_ House in _Lancashire_. 'Twas near five a Clock in
the Afternoon when she reach'd that happy Port, when, coming to the Hall
Door, she enquir'd for the Lady of the House, who happily was just
coming into the Hall with a little Miss in her Arms, of about four Years
old, very much troubled with weak and sore Eyes: The fair Wanderer,
addressing her self to the Lady with all the Humility and Modesty
imaginable, begg'd to know if her Ladyship had any Place in her Family
vacant, in which she might do her Service? To which the Lady return'd,
(by Way of Question) Alas! poor Creature! what canst thou do? Any thing,
may it please your Ladyship, (reply'd the disguis'd Beauty) any thing
within my Strength and my Knowledge, I mean, Madam. Thou say'st well,
(said the Lady) and I'm sorry I have not any vacant for thee. I beseech
your Ladyship then (said _Arabella_) let me lodge in your Barn to-Night;
for I am told it is a great Way hence to any Town, and I have but little
Money. In my Barn, poor Girl! (cry'd the Lady, looking very earnestly on
her) ay, God forbid else, unless we can find a better Lodging for thee.
Art thou hungry or thirsty? Yes, Madam (reply'd the wandering Fair One)
I could both eat and drink, if it please your Ladyship. The Lady
commanded Victuals and Drink to be brought, and could not forbear
staying in the Hall 'till she had done; when she ask'd her several
Questions, as of what Country she was? To which she answer'd truly, of
_Somersetshire_. What her Parents were, and if living? To which she
return'd, They were good, honest, and religious People, and she hop'd
they were alive, and in as good Health as when she left 'em. After the
Lady had done catechising her, _Arabella_, looking on the little Child
in her Ladyship's Arms, said, Pardon me, Madam, I beseech you, if I am
too bold in asking your Ladyship how that pretty Creature's Eyes came to
be so bad? By an extream Cold which she took, (reply'd the Lady.) I had
not presum'd (return'd t'other) to have ask'd your Ladyship this
Question, were I not assur'd that I have an infallible Cure for the
Infirmity; and if, Madam, you will be pleas'd to let me apply it, I will
tell your Ladyship the Remedy in private. The Lady was much surpriz'd to
hear a young Creature, so meanly habited, talk so genteelly; and after
surveying her very strictly, said the Lady, Have you ever experienc'd it
before? Yes, Madam (reply'd the fair Physician) and never without happy
Success: I dare engage, Madam, (added she) that I will make 'em as well
as my own, by God's Blessing, or else I will be content to lose mine,
which Heaven forbid. Amen, (cry'd the good Lady) for they are very fine
ones, on my Word.--Stay, Child, I will desire Sir _Christian_ to hear it
with me; and if he approves it, you shall about it; and if it take good
Effect, we will endeavour to requite the Care and Pains it shall cost
you. Saying thus, she immediately left her, and return'd very speedily
with Sir _Christian_, who having discours'd _Arabella_ for some time,
with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, took her into the Parlour with his
Lady, where she communicated her Secret to 'em both; which they found so
innocent and reasonable, that they desir'd her to prepare it as soon as
possible, and to make her Application of it with all convenient Speed;
which she could not do 'till the next Morning. In the mean Time she was
order'd a Lodging with the House-Maid, who reported to her Lady, That
she found her a very sweet and cleanly Bed-fellow; (adding) That she
never saw nor felt so white, so smooth, and soft a Skin. _Arabella_
continu'd her Remedy with such good Success, that in a Fortnight's Time
little Miss's Eyes were as lively and strong as ever. This so endear'd
her to the Knight and his Lady, that they created a new Office in their
Family, purposely for her, which was, Attendant on their eldest Daughter
_Eleanora_, a Lady much about her Years and Stature; who was so charm'd
with her Conversation, that she could not stir Abroad, nor eat, nor
sleep, without _Peregrina Goodhouse_ (for those were the Names she
borrow'd:) Nor was her Modesty, Humility, and Sweetness of Temper, less
engaging to her Fellow-Servants, who all strove which should best
express their Love to her. On Festival-Days, and for the Entertainment
of Strangers, she would lend her helping Hand to the Cook, and make the
Sauce for every Dish, though her own Province was only to attend the
young Lady, and prepare the Quidlings, and other Sweet-Meats, for the
Reception of Sir _Christian's_ Friends; all which she did to Admiration.
In this State of easy Servitude she liv'd there for near three Years,
very well contented at all Times, but when she bethought her self of her
Father, Mother, and Sisters, courted by all the principal Men-Servants,
whom she refus'd in so obliging a Manner, and with such sweet, obliging
Words, that they could not think themselves injur'd, though they found
their Addresses were in vain. Mr. _Prayfast_, the Chaplain himself,
could not hold out against her Charms. For her Skin had long since
recover'd its native Whiteness; nor did she need Ornaments of Cloaths to
set her Beauty off, if any Thing could adorn her, since she was dress'd
altogether as costly, though not so richly (perhaps) as _Eleanora_.
_Prayfast_ therefore found that the Spirit was too weak for the Flesh,
and gave her very broad Signs of his Kindness in Sonnets, Anagrams, and
Acrosticks, which she receiv'd very obligingly of him, taking a more
convenient Time to laugh at 'em with her young Lady.
Her kind Reception of them encourag'd him to that Degree, that within a
few Days after, supposing himself secure on her Side, he apply'd himself
to the good old Knight, his Patron, for his Consent to a Marriage with
her, who very readily comply'd with his Demands, esteeming it a very
advantagious Match for _Peregrina_, and withal told him, That he would
give him three hundred Pounds with her, besides the first Benefit that
should fall in his Gift. But (said he) as I doubt not that you are
sufficiently acquainted with her Virtues and other excellent
Qualifications, 'tis necessary that you should know the worst that I can
tell you of her, which is, that she came to us a meer Stranger, in a
very mean, tho' cleanly Habit; and therefore, as she confesseth, we may
conclude, of very humble, yet honest Parentage. A! (possibly) her Father
might have been, or is, some Husbandman, or somewhat inferiour to that;
for we took her up at the Door, begging one Night's Entertainment in the
Barn. How, Sir! (cry'd _Prayfast_, starting) have you no better
Knowledge of her Birth, than what you are pleas'd to discover now? No
better, nor more (reply'd the Knight.) Alas! Sir, then (return'd the
proud canonical Sort of a Farmer) she is no Wife for me; I shall
dishonour my Family by marrying so basely. Were you never told any Thing
of this before? (ask'd the Knight.) You know, Sir, (answer'd the Prelate
that would be) that I have not had the Honour to officiate, as your
Chaplain, much more than half a Year; in which Time, 'tis true, I have
heard that she was receiv'd as a Stranger; but that she came in so low a
Capacity I never learn'd 'till now. I find then, Parson, (said the
Knight) that you do not like the Author of your Happiness, at least, who
might be so, because she comes to you in such an humble Manner; I tell
you the _Jews_ are miserable for the same Reason. She cannot be such
perfectly to me (return'd t'other) without the Advantage of good Birth.
With that I'm sure she would not, return'd his Patron, and left him to
go to _Peregrina_, whom he happily found alone. Child, (said he to her)
have you any Obligation to Mr. _Prayfast_? As how, Sir? She ask'd. Do
you love him? Have you made him any Promise of Marriage? Or has he any
Way engag'd himself to you? Neither, Sir, (she answer'd.) 'Tis true,
I love him as my Fellow-Servant, no otherwise. He has indeed been
somewhat lavish of his Wit and Rhimes to me, which serv'd well enough to
divert my young Lady and me. But of all Mankind, perhaps, he should be
the last I would choose for a Husband. I thought (said the good-humour'd
old Knight) that he had already obtain'd a Promise from you, since he
came but just now to ask my Consent, which I freely gave him at first,
upon that Thought; but he is doubtful of your Birth, and fears it may
dishonour his Family, if he should marry you. On my Word, Sir, (return'd
_Peregrina_, blushing with Disdain, no doubt) our Families are by no
Means equal. What thy Family is, I know not; (said Sir _Christian_) but
I am sure thou art infinitely superiour to him in all the natural
Embelishments both of Body and Mind. Be just to thy self, and be not
hasty to wed: Thou hast more Merit than Wealth alone can purchase. O!
dear Sir, (she return'd) you ruin me with Obligations never to be
re-paid, but in Acknowledgment, and that imperfectly too. Here they were
interrupted by the young Lady, to whom she repeated the Conference
betwixt Sir _Christian_ and _Prayfast_, as soon as ever Sir _Christian_
left the Room.
About a Week after, Sir _Lucius Lovewell_, (a young Gentleman, of a good
Presence, Wit, and Learning enough, whose Father, dying near a
Twelve-month before, had left him upwards of 3000_l._ a Year, which,
too, was an excellent Accomplishment, tho' not the best; for he was
admirably good-humour'd) came to visit Sir _Christian Kindly_; and, as
some of the Family imagin'd, 'twas with Design to make his Addresses to
the young Lady, Sir _Christian's_ Daughter. Whatever his Thoughts were,
his Treatment, there, was very generous and kind. He saw the Lady, and
lik'd her very well; nay, doubtless, would have admitted a Passion for
her, had not his Destiny at the same Time shewn him _Peregrina_. She was
very beautiful, and he as sensible; and 'tis not to be doubted, but that
he immediately took Fire. However, his Application and Courtship, free
and unaffected, were chiefly directed to Sir _Christian's_ Daughter:
Some little Respects he paid to _Peregrina_, who could not choose but
look on him as a very fine, good-humour'd, and well-accomplish'd
Gentleman. When the Hour came that he thought fit to retreat, Sir
_Christian_ ask'd him, When he would make 'em happy again in his
Conversation? To which he return'd, That since he was not above seven or
eight Miles from him, and that there were Charms so attractive at Sir
_Christian's_, he should take the Liberty to visit him sooner and
oftener than he either expected or desir'd. T'other reply'd, That was
impossible; and so, without much more Ceremony, he took his Leave of
that delightful Company for two or three Days; at the End of which he
return'd, with Thoughts much different from those at his first Coming
thither, being strongly agitated by his Passion for _Peregrina_. He took
and made all the Opportunities and Occasions that Chance and his own
Fancy could offer and present to talk to her, both before, at, and after
Dinner; and his Eyes were so constantly fix'd on her, that he seem'd to
observe nothing else; which was so visible to Sir _Christian_, his Lady,
and Daughter, that they were convinc'd of their Error, in believing,
that he came to make his Court to the young Lady. This late Discovery of
the young Knight's Inclinations, was no Way unpleasant to Sir
_Christian_ and his Lady; and to the young Lady it was most agreeable
and obliging, since her Heart was already pre-engag'd elsewhere; and
since she did equally desire the good fortune of her beautiful Attendant
with her own.
The Table was no sooner clear'd, and a loyal Health or two gone round,
e're Sir _Christian_ ask'd his young amorous Guest to take a Walk with
him in the Gardens: To which Sir _Lucius_ readily consented, designing
to disclose that to him for a Secret, which was but too apparent to all
that were present at Table: When therefore he thought he had
sufficiently admir'd and commended the Neatness of the Walks and Beauty
of the Flowers, he began, to this Effect:
Possibly, Sir _Christian_, I shall surprize you with the Discourse I'm
going to make you; but 'tis certain no Man can avoid the Necessity of
the Fate which he lies under; at least I have now found it so.--I came
at first, Sir, with the Hopes of prevailing on you to honour and make me
happy in a Marriage with Madam _Eleanora_ your Daughter; but at the same
Instant I was seiz'd with so irresistable a Passion for the charming
_Peregrina_, that I find no Empire, Fame, nor Wit, can make me perfectly
bless'd here below, without the Enjoyment of that beautiful Creature. Do
not mistake me, Sir, (I beseech you, continu'd he) I mean an _honourable
Enjoyment_.--I will make her my Wife, Sir, if you will be generously
pleas'd to use your Interest with her on my Part.
To which the good old Knight reply'd, What you think (Sir) you have now
imparted as a Secret, has been the general Observation of all my Family,
e're since you gave us the Happiness of your Company to Day: Your
Passion is too great to be disguis'd; and I am extremely pleas'd, that
you can think any Thing in my House worthy the Honour you intend
_Peregrina_. Indeed, had you made any particular and publick Address to
my Daughter, I should have believ'd it want of Merit in her, or in us,
her Parents, that you should, after that, quit your Pretensions to her,
without any willing or known Offence committed on our Side. I therefore
(Sir) approve your Choice, and promise you my utmost Assistance afar.
She is really virtuous in all the Latitude of Virtue; her Beauty is too
visible to be disputed ev'n by Envy it self: As for her Birth, she best
can inform you of it; I must only let you know, that, as her Name
imports, she was utterly a Stranger, and entertain'd by us in pure
Charity. But the Antiquity and Honour of your Family can receive no
Diminution by a Match with a beautiful and virtuous Creature, for whom,
you say, and I believe, you have so true a Passion. I have now told you
the worst (Sir) that I know of her; but your Wealth and Love may make
you both eternally happy on Earth. And so they shall, _by her dear
self_, (return'd the amorous Knight) if both of 'em may recommend me to
her, with your Perswasions added, which still I beg. Say, rather you
command; and with those three hundred Pounds which I promis'd her, if
she marry'd with my Consent to Mr. _Prayfast_.
To this, the other smiling, reply'd, Her Person and Love is all I court
or expect, Sir: But since you have thought her worthy of so great an
Expression of your Favour and Kindness, I will receive it with all
Humility as is from a Father, which I shall ever esteem you.--But see,
Sir, (cry'd he in an Extasy) how she comes, led by Madam _Eleanora_,
your Daughter. The young Lady coming to him, began thus: I know (Sir)
'tis my Father and Mother's Desire and Ambition to shew you the
heartiest Welcome in their Power, which can by no Means be made appear
so particularly and undisputably, as by presenting you with what you
like best in the Family: In Assurance therefore that I shall merit their
Favour by this Act, I have brought your dear _Peregrina_ to you, not
without Advice, and some Instructions of mine, that may concern her
Happiness with you, if discreetly observ'd and persu'd by her. In short,
(Sir) I have told her, that a Gentleman of so good a Figure, such
excellent Parts, and generous Education, of so ancient and honourable a
Family, together with so plentiful an Estate as you at present possess,
is capable of bringing Happiness to any, the fairest Lady in this
Country at least. O Madam! (return'd Sir _Lucius_) your Obligation is so
great, that I want Sense to receive it as I ought; much more Words to
return you any proportionable Acknowledgment of it. But give me Leave to
say thus much, Madam; that my Thoughts of making my Court to your
Ladiship, first invited me to give Sir _Christian_, your Father, the
Trouble of a Visit, since the Death of mine. However, the over-ruling
Powers have thought to divert my Purpose, and the offering of my Heart,
which can never rest, but with this dear charming Creature.--Your
Merits, Madam--are sufficient for the Gentleman on whom I entirely fix'd
my Affections, before you did me the Honour and your self the Trouble of
your first Visit (interrupted Sir _Christian's_ Daughter.) And now, Sir,
(added she to her Father) if you please, let us leave 'em to make an End
of this Business between themselves. No, Madam, (cry'd Sir _Lucius_)
your Father has promis'd me to make Use of his Interest with her for my
Sake. This I now expect, Sir. Then (said the old Knight) thou dear
beautiful and virtuous Stranger! if I have any Power to perswade thee,
take my Advice, and this honourable Gentleman to thy loving Husband; I'm
sure he'll prove so to thee. If I could command thee I would. Ah Sir!
(said she, kneeling, with Tears falling from her charming Eyes) I know
none living that has greater Right and Power.--But (alas Sir!) this
honourable Person knows not the Meanness of my Birth, at least, he
cannot think it any Way proportionable or suitable to his. O thou dear
Creature, (cry'd her Lover, setting one Knee to the Ground, and taking
her up) Sir _Christian_ has already discours'd all thy Circumstances to
me: Rise and bless me with thy Consent. I must ask my Lady's, Sir, (she
reply'd.) See, here my Mother comes (said the young Lady) and entreated
her good Word for Sir _Lucius_. The good ancient Lady began then to use
all the Arguments to incline her to yield to her Happiness; and, in
fine, she was prevail'd on to say, I do consent, and will endeavour to
deserve the honourable Title of your dutiful Wife, Sir. 'Twas with no
common Joy and Transport that he receiv'd her Hand, and kiss'd those
dear Lips that gave him an Assurance of his Happiness; which he resolv'd
should begin about a Month or two afterwards; in which Time he might
send Orders to _London_ for the making their Wedding Cloaths. Into the
House then they all went, Sir _Lucius_ leading _Peregrina_, and the
first they met of the Family was _Prayfast_, who was not a little
surpriz'd nor discompos'd at that Sight; and more especially when Sir
_Christian_ told him, That tho' he did not think that beautiful sweet
Stranger worthy the Title of his Wife, yet now he should be oblig'd to
join her to that honourable Person. The Slave bow'd, and look'd very
pale.
All Things were at last got ready for the Consummation of their Bliss,
and _Prayfast_ did their Business effectually, tho' much against his
Will; however he receiv'd the Reward of twenty Broad Pieces. The Wedding
was kept for a Week at Sir _Christian's_ House; after which they
adjourn'd to the Bridegroom's, where it lasted as long as Sir
_Christian_, his Lady, Daughter, and the rest of that Family would stay.
As they were leaving him, Sir _Lucius_ dispos'd of two hundred Pounds
amongst Sir _Christian's_ Servants, and the rest of the three hundred he
distributed among the Poor of both Parishes.
When they were gone, the affectionate tender Bridegroom could by no
Means be perswaded by any Gentlemen, his Neighbours, to hunt with 'em,
or to take any Divertisement, tho' but for half a Day; esteeming it the
highest Unkindness imaginable to leave his Lady: Not that she could be
alone neither in his Absence; for she never wanted the Visits of all the
Ladies round about, and those of the best Quality; who were equally
charm'd with her Sweetness of Temper, as the Men were with her outward
Beauties. But in a Month's time, or thereabout, observing that he was
continually solicited and courted to some Sport or Pastime with those
Gentlemen of his Neighbourhood, she was forc'd to do her self the
Violence to beg of him that he would divert himself with 'em, as before
their Marriage he us'd: And she had so good Success, that he did allow
himself two Days in the Week to hunt: In one of which, coming Home about
five a Clock, and not finding his Lady below Stairs, he went directly up
to her Chamber, where he saw her leaning her Head on her Hand, and her
Handkerchief all bath'd in Tears. At this Sight he was strangely amaz'd
and concern'd. Madam, (cry'd he in an unusual Tone) what means such
Postures as these? Tell me! For I must know the Occasion. Surpriz'd, and
trembling at this his unwonted Manner of saluting her, she started up,
and then, falling on her Knees, she wept out, O thou dear Author and
Lord of all my Joys on Earth! Look not, I beseech you, so wildly, nor
speak terribly to me! Thou Center of all my Happiness below,
(return'd he) rise, and make me acquainted with the dreadful Occasion of
this afflicting and tormenting Sight! All you shall know, (she reply'd)
dearest of human Blessings! But sit, and change your Looks; then I can
speak. Speak then, my Life, (said he) but tell me all; all I must know.
Is there a Thought about my Soul that you shall not partake? I'm sure
there is not; (he reply'd) say on then. You know, Sir, (she return'd)
that I have left my Parents now three Years, or thereabouts, and know
not whether they are living or dead: I was reflecting, therefore, on the
Troubles which my undutiful and long Absence may have caus'd them; for
poor and mean as they may be, they well instructed me in all good
Things; and I would once more, by your dear Permission, see them, and
beg their Pardon for my Fault; for they are my Parents still, if living,
Sir, though (unhappily) not worth your Regard. How! (cry'd he) can that
Pair who gave my Dearest Birth, want my Regard, or ought I can do for
them? No! thou shalt see them, and so will I: But tell me, _Peregrina_,
is this the only Cause of your Discomposure? So may I still be bless'd
in your dear Love, (she reply'd) as this is Truth, and all the Cause.
When shall we see them, then? (he ask'd). We see them, (cry'd she) O!
your Goodness descends too much; and you confound me with your unmerited
and unexpected Kindness. 'Tis I alone that have offended, and I alone am
fit to see them. That must not be; (return'd her affectionate Husband)
no, we'll both go together; and if they want, either provide for them
there, or take them hither with us. Your Education shews their
Principles, and 'tis no Shame to own virtuous Relations. Come, dry thy
dear lamenting Eyes; the Beginning of the next Week we'll set forwards.
Was ever Disobedience so rewarded with such a Husband? (said she) those
Tears have wash'd that childish Guilt away; and there is no Reward above
thy Virtue.
In a few Days, Monday began the Date of their Journey to the _West_ of
_England_; and in five or six Days more, by the Help of a Coach and Six,
they got to _Cornwall_; where, in a little Town, of little
Accommodation, they were oblig'd to take up their Lodgings the first
Night. In the Morning (said his Lady to him) My Dear, about a Mile and a
half hence lives one Sir _Francis Fairname_ and his Lady, if yet they be
living, who have a very fine House, and worth your seeing; I beg of you
therefore, that you will be so kind to your self as to walk thither, and
dine with the old Gentleman; for that you must, if you see him; whilst I
stay here, and send to my Father and Mother, if to be found, and prepare
them to receive you at your Return. I must not have no Denial; (added
she) for if you refuse this Favour, all my Designs are lost.--Make
Haste, my Life; 'tis now eleven a Clock; In your Absence I'll dress, to
try if Change of Cloaths can hide me from them. This was so small a
Request, that he did not stay to reply to't, but presently left her, and
got thither in less than half an Hour, attended only by one Footman. He
was very kindly and respectfully receiv'd by the old Gentleman, who had
certainly been a very beautiful Person in his Youth; and Sir _Lucius_,
fixing his Eyes upon his Face, could hardly remove 'em, being very
pleasantly and surprisingly entertain'd with some Lines that he observ'd
in it. But immediately recollecting himself, he told him, that having
heard how fine a Seat that was, his Curiosity led him to beg the Favour
that he might see it. The worthy old Knight return'd, that his House and
all the Accommodations in it were at his Service: So inviting him in, he
satisfy'd his pretended Curiosity; and after he had shewn all that was
worthy the Sight of a Stranger, in the House, he led him into his
Gardens, which furnish'd Sir _Lucius_ with new Matter of Admiration;
whence the old Knight brought him into the Parlour, telling him, that
'twas his Custom to suffer no Stranger to return, till he had either
din'd or supp'd with him, according as the Hour of the Day or Night
presented.
'Twas here the affectionate Husband was strangely surpriz'd at the Sight
of a Picture, which so nearly counterfeited the Beauties of his
dear-lov'd Lady, that he stood like an Image himself, gazing and
varying; the Colours of his Face agitating by the Diversity of his
Thoughts; which Sir _Francis_ perceiving, ask'd him, What it was that so
visibly concern'd him? To which he reply'd, That indeed he was
concern'd, but with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, since he had never
seen any Thing more beautiful than that Picture, unless it were a Lady
for whom he had the most sincere Affection imaginable, and whom it did
very nearly represent; and then enquir'd for whom that was drawn? Sir
_Francis_ answer'd him, 'Twas design'd for one who was, I dare not say
who is, my Daughter; and the other two were drawn for her younger
Sisters. And see, Sir, (persu'd he) here they come, following their
Mother: At which Words Sir _Lucius_ was oblig'd to divorce his Eyes from
the charming Shadow, and make his Compliments to them; which were no
sooner over than Dinner was serv'd in, where the young Knight eat as
heartily as he could, considering he sate just opposite to it, and in
Sight of the two Ladies, who were now exactly like his own Wife, though
not so very beautiful.
The Table being uncover'd, Sir _Lucius_ desir'd to know why Sir
_Francis_ said, He doubted whether the Original of that Picture were yet
his Daughter? To which the Mother return'd (big with Sorrow, which was
seen in her Tears) That her Husband had spoken but too rightly: For
(added she) 'tis now three Years since we have either seen her or heard
from her. How, Madam! three Years, (cry'd Sir _Lucius_) I believe I can
shew your Ladiship a dear Acquaintance of mine, so wonderfully like that
Picture, that I am almost perswaded she is the very Original; only
(pardon me, Madam) she tells me her Parents are of mean Birth and
Fortune. Dear Sir, (cry'd the tender Mother) Is she in this Country? She
is not two Miles hence, reply'd Sir _Lucius_. By all Things most dear to
you, Sir, (said the Lady) let us be so happy as to see her, and that
with all convenient Expedition! for it will be a Happiness to see any
Creature, the only Like my dearest _Arabella_. _Arabella_, Madam! alas!
No, Madam, her Name is _Peregrina_. No Matter for Names, Sir, (cry'd the
Lady) I want the Sight of the dear Creature. Sir, (added the worthy old
Knight) I can assure you it will be an eternal Obligation to us; or, if
you please, we will wait on you to her. By no Means, Sir, (return'd Sir
_Lucius_) I will repeat my Trouble to you with her, in an Hour at
farthest. We shall desire the Continuance of such Trouble as long as we
live, reply'd Sir _Francis_. So, without farther Ceremony, Sir _Lucius_
left 'em and return'd to his Lady, whom he found ready dress'd, as he
wish'd he might. Madam, (said he) where are your Father and Mother?
I know not, yet, my Dear, she reply'd. Well, (return'd he) we will
expect 'em, or send for 'em hither at Night; in the mean Time I have
engag'd to bring you with me to Sir _Francis Fairname_ and his Lady,
with all imaginable Expedition. So immediately, as soon as Coach and Six
and Equipage was ready, he hurry'd her away with him to Sir _Francis_,
whom they found walking with his Lady and two Daughters in the outward
Court, impatiently expecting their Coming. The Boot of the Coach (for
that was the Fashion in those Days) was presently let down, and Sir
_Lucius_ led his Lady forwards to them; who coming within three or four
Paces of the good old Knight, his Lady fell on her Knees, and begg'd
their Pardon and Blessing. Her affectionate Father answer'd 'em with
Tears from his Eyes; but the good ancient Lady was so overcome with Joy,
that she fell into a Swoon, and had like to have been accompany'd by her
Daughter, who fell upon her Knees by her, and with her Shrieks recall'd
her, when she strait cry'd out, My Daughter, my Daughter's come again!
my _Arabella_ alive! Ay, my dear offended Mother! with all the Duty and
Penitence that Humanity is capable of, return'd the Lady _Lovewell_. Her
Sisters then express'd their Love in Tears, Embraces, and Kisses, while
her dear Husband begg'd a Blessing of her Parents, who were very
pleasantly surpriz'd, to know that their Daughter was so happily
marry'd, and to a Gentleman of such an Estate and Quality as Sir
_Lucius_ seem'd to be: 'Twas late that Night e'er they went to Bed at
Sir _Francis's_. The next Day, after they had all pretty well eas'd
themselves of their Passions, Sir _Francis_ told his Son-in-Law, that as
he had three Daughters, so he had 3000_l._ a Year, and he would divide
it equally among 'em; but for Joy of the Recovery of his eldest
Daughter, and her fortunate Match with so worthy a Gentleman as Sir
_Lucius_, who had given him an Account of his Estate and Quality, he
promis'd him ten thousand Pounds in ready Money besides; whereas the
other young Ladies were to have but five thousand a Piece, besides their
Dividend of the Estate. And now, (said he) Daughter, the Cause of your
Retreat from us, old Sir _Robert Richland_, has been dead these three
Months, on such a Day. How, Sir, (cry'd she) on such a Day! that was the
very Day on which I was so happy as to be marry'd to my dear Sir
_Lucius_.
She then gave her Father, and Mother, and Sisters, a Relation of all
that had happen'd to her since her Absence from her dear Parents, who
were extremely pleas'd with the Account of Sir _Christian_ and his
Lady's Hospitality and Kindness to her; and in less than a Fortnight
after, they took a Journey to Sir _Lucius's_, carrying the two other
young Ladies along with 'em; and, by the Way, they call'd at Sir
_Christian's_, where they arriv'd Time enough to be present the next Day
at Sir _Christian's_ Daughter's Wedding, which they kept there for a
whole Fortnight.
_FINIS._
NOTES: The Wandering Beauty.
p. 451 _two Pinners_. A pinner is 'a coif with two long flaps one on
each side pinned on and hanging down, and sometimes fastened at the
breast . . . sometimes applied to the flaps as an adjunct of the
coif.'--_N.E.D._ cf. Pepys, 18 April, 1664: 'To Hyde Park . . . and my
Lady Castlemaine in a coach by herself, in yellow satin and a
pinner on.'
* * * * *
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