"I will never go any where again without you, indeed, mother, I am
determined," said Matilda, with a sorrowful air, the following morning.
This was the prelude to a confession of error, which in part relieved
the mind of Matilda: but she was still uneasy--she felt as if Charles
would be her apologist with his family, for an error they were likely to
blame in her; but the ardour of his manner made her feel much concerned
for _him_--he was dear to her--she felt for him a sister's affection, but
felt that she could never be more to him than she was then. Anxious and
restless, she earnestly desired to see Ellen, whose gentleness and
dispassionate good sense would soothe the fretfulness and allay the
uneasiness she felt; yet she could not bring herself to call on the
family--she had not the courage to meet Mr. and Mrs. Harewood, nor the
calmness with which she desired to see the brothers. While she was debating
what course to pursue, to her infinite relief she heard that Ellen had just
called with her father, and that both of them were in the library. Before
she had time to welcome them, Ellen, running up stairs, hurried with her
into the dressing-room, and closed the door with an air of secrecy which
showed her expectation of giving or receiving intelligence of importance,
and there was in her countenance an expression which combined both joy and
sorrow, and was really indefinable.
Full of her own cares, and anxious to conceal the most interesting part of
them, Matilda for some time remained silent, nor did Ellen find the courage
requisite for her own communication; so that this much desired visit
promised little eventual satisfaction. To account for the situation of
Ellen, it is necessary to trace the events of the morning in her father's
house.
When the family were assembled to breakfast, the conversation naturally
turned upon the ball of the evening before; and Ellen, with friendly zeal,
sought to exculpate her friend Matilda from the errors which Mr. Belmont
seemed to think her guilty of, in exhibiting herself in a dance, by no
means decorous, with a young man of Sir Theodore's description.--"I do not
say," added he, "that it was a positively wrong thing, nor do I much wonder
at it; for a fine young woman, and an heiress, may be led a great way, by
the flatterers and sycophants who surround her; but I must own I expected
better things from the chosen friend of Ellen Harewood, from a girl
educated by a pious and sensible mother, and one said to possess a sound
understanding."
Edmund was silent, but his varying complexion bespoke the strong interest
he felt in the subject; Charles, on the contrary, warmly entered into it,
declaring that a few words which passed between Matilda and him clearly
proved that she had been misled by her party; that her sense of propriety
was as strong as ever; and, in short, that she was a dear, amiable, good
girl, whom he would defend as long as he lived.
The warmth of Charles's assertion called a smile from every one. During the
time he spoke, his father had been called out; the servant now entered,
desiring _his_ presence also; and it appeared that their early visitant
was a man of great importance, and the cause of his calling at this time,
by awakening curiosity, suspended conversation. In a few minutes he
departed, and Mr. Harewood returned to the breakfast-room, saying as he
entered--"I am going to announce a piece of excellent news, although it is
accompanied by a loss we must submit to; our dear Charles is appointed to
be secretary to the embassy to ----, now preparing to embark."
Mrs. Harewood burst into tears; but as soon as she could speak, she
expressed her joy, while Ellen, in a broken voice, exclaimed--"Oh, what
will Matilda say, poor girl?"
Edmund rushed out of the room, as if to seek his brother, but Mr. Belmont
well knew it was to conceal his emotion; no other person seemed to notice
Ellen's unfortunate ejaculation, and when the door was closed, Mr. Belmont
congratulated the parents upon a circumstance so honourable and desirable
to their younger son; and as they well knew the sincerity of his character,
and the affection he felt for Charles, they freely confided to him their
feelings at the event; while Ellen innocently declared that she was very
glad he happened to be with them at the time, as he would be a substitute
for dear Charles.
"Ah!" said Mr. Belmont, "if you, Ellen, could persuade your parents, and,
what is in this case of more importance, your _own_ heart, to consider me
not only now, but ever, a member of your family, I should be happy indeed."
Ellen, rather surprised at this speech than its import, for she had long
half hoped, half feared, to think on this interesting but awful subject,
turned to her mother, and hid her blushing cheek upon her shoulder, while
the parents exchanged looks of satisfaction with each other, and esteem
towards the speaker.
"Mine, Ellen," continued Mr. Belmont, "is neither a sudden nor violent
passion; I approach you by no flattery--I dazzle you by no exhibition; but
as I trust both my fortune and character will bear the scrutiny of your
friends, your only task, my sweet girl, is to examine your own heart, and
inquire there how far I am agreeable to your wishes. I have been a silent
admirer of your virtues, and I can be a patient attendant for your
decision."
Ellen gave one glance towards her mother--it answered all her wishes; she
turned, deeply blushing, to Mr. Belmont, and timidly, yet with an air of
perfect confidence, tendered him her hand; she would have spoken, but the
variety of emotion so suddenly called forth by the departure of her
brother, and the declaration of her lover, overpowered her, and he
received thus a silent, but a full consent to his wishes.
In the mean time, Edmund had conquered the more immediate pang that
laboured at his heart, and, entering the library, had grasped the hand of
Charles, and uttered a few words of congratulation, but it was in a voice
so broken, that there was more of sorrow than joy in it.
Charles had not the slightest doubt of his brother's affection, he did not
therefore doubt for a moment the sincerity of his assertion, but he was
persuaded that the idea of his own situation, as being two years older, and
yet likely to remain dependent on his father for some years, was a sensible
mortification to him; and, feeling for his situation, he said--"Ay, my dear
fellow, there is a difference between us _now_, sure enough; but there is
no doubt of your doing well by and by; besides, you are the eldest, and
deserve to be so; I am sure father can never do too much for such a son as
you are, Edmund."
Edmund gazed in astonishment to hear Charles express himself with so much
ease, at a time when he expected his heart must be overpowered with
trouble; his fears lately excited by the agitation and warmth with which
Charles had vindicated Matilda, and the unguarded exclamation of Ellen, who
evidently thought her younger brother the favourite, now took another turn;
he surveyed Charles; he was just twenty-three--a tall, handsome young man,
and one who had ever been admired by the ladies. "Perhaps," said he,
"internally, poor Matilda loves him, but without having her affection
returned: this accounts for the many great offers she has refused, for
the sympathy of Ellen, who knows her heart, and for the vindication she
undoubtedly made to him last night; whereas to _me_ she was cold and
unintelligible."
While these painful thoughts rankled in the mind of the young barrister,
his happy brother was flying all over the house, receiving from the
servants the mixed congratulation of joy in his success and sorrow for his
departure; he had also joined the _coterie_ in the parlour, wrung the hand
of his future brother-in-law, kissed his mother and Ellen, and thanked his
father twenty times for all his generous cares, before Edmund could muster
philosophy enough to join the family, and listen to its arrangements for
the day.
It was at length agreed that Edmund should assist his mother in making up
a package of books, &c., for the traveller, who, accompanied by Belmont,
should visit the city for necessary arrangements; and Mr. Harewood, who
knew that Ellen would naturally wish to see Matilda, agreed to accompany
her thither, being at once desirous to communicate this various
intelligence to Mrs. Hanson, and to witness the effect Charles's departure
would have upon Matilda, whom, at the bottom of his heart, he certainly
desired to have for a daughter, although he would have rejoiced in her
alliance with any worthy man.
We return now to the young ladies in the dressing-room, each eager to hear
and to speak, yet each oppressed, though very differently, with solicitude.
At length, Ellen, her breast labouring with sighs, and fear lest she should
wound the heart of her friend, thus spoke: "We are going to lose Charles:
he has got an appointment, Matilda."
"And is he pleased with it, Ellen?"
"Oh, yes! he seems quite happy: he is running all over the house, just in
his old way, and the servants are all laughing and crying about him, as if
he were still a school-boy."
"I am heartily glad of it--he has my sincerest good wishes, and I feel
certain of his success."
Ellen looked in the face of Matilda, to see if she did _indeed_ rejoice;
she perceived a tear twinkle in the corner of her young friend's eye, but
it was not the tear of sorrow. Ellen could now read the heart on subjects
of this kind; she felt that she had been completely mistaken in Matilda's
supposed predilection, and she was almost sorry to see her so happy.
"There is a--a--another affair going on at our house," said Ellen, after
a pause.
Matilda felt her heart beat with unusual violence; she could not speak,
but her very soul peeped out of her eyes to say--"What is it?"
"It is not a parting; it--it--is a joining."
"Oh," said Matilda, calling all her fortitude to her aid, "you are going
to have a wedding, eh?"
"I believe it will come to that, indeed, some time."
Matilda turned as pale as death; but her colour rushed suddenly back to her
cheeks, as at this moment the door opened, and Mr. Harewood and Mrs. Hanson
broke on their _tête-à-tête_. The former felt assured that poor Matilda had
heard the destination of Charles, and was suffering under it; but as he
could hardly believe Mrs. Hanson would consent to her marriage with his
youngest son, and as he thought Charles himself had no thoughts of
marriage at this time, he could not allow himself to rejoice in her
predilection. To relieve her, he said--"Well, my dear, you heard how we are
situated, some of us parting for a time, some uniting for ever; I am sure
you rejoice in all that is good, in either of these cases."
Matilda, overpowered, burst into sudden tears.
"My daughter is very nervous this morning," said Mrs. Hanson; "she cannot
help being affected with such material changes in the state of those she
loves so well; you are aware her tears are those of joy, Mr. Harewood."
Matilda struggled to recover her composure, and, turning to Mr. Harewood,
she put both her hands into his, and said, with a low but earnest
voice--"My dear, _dear_ sir, I do most truly rejoice in the prospect of
any good that can befall your family; I saw the--the young lady--the
bride-elect--she is very pretty--I hope she will be as good as she is
handsome; and I----"
Matilda suddenly stopped, unable to articulate the rest of her good wishes,
and Mr. Harewood eagerly said--"As to _that_ we will say nothing; I trust
Ellen will make a good wife; I am sure she has had a good example."
"_Ellen!_" screamed Matilda; "is it you, Ellen? _you_ that are going to be
married--you?"
"Dear me, how astonished you look! I suppose I shall be married some time.
I told you that perhaps Mr. Belmont might, _some time_----"
"My dear, _dear_ Ellen, pardon my dulness, and accept my sincerest
congratulations. May Heaven bless you, and him you prefer, and make you
both as happy as you deserve to be!"
"So, so!" cried Mr. Harewood; "if we had never come up stairs, this mighty
secret, which, for my part, I told an hour ago down stairs, would never
have been revealed. But pray, Matilda, who did you conclude was the
marrying person at our house, if it were not Ellen?"
"You have sons, sir," tremulously articulated Matilda, not choosing to
trust her tongue with a name that dwelt ever on her heart.
"Oh, tut, tut, there is no marrying for my boys. Charles is disposed of,
and if Edmund can take a wife at thirty, he will be better off than many in
his profession; he is now but a little past five-and-twenty, you know."
"He danced with a very beautiful woman last night," said Matilda, eagerly,
and with recovered vivacity.
"So I understand; she is a bride, and his first fee was given for a
consultation on her marriage-settlements."
Matilda breathed; the lustre of her eye, the glow on her cheek, could not
be mistaken by the fond parent, who now clearly understood the cause of
Matilda's frequent despondency, and the refusals she had given to all
offers of marriage.
"I wish," said Mrs. Hanson, "that you and Mrs. Harewood and our young
friends would dine with me: I am really impatient to be introduced to Mr.
Belmont."
"As you please, madam; the wanderer must certainly see you once more, and
I do not know that he can choose a better day."
Ellen proposed writing a note to her mother, and left the room with Mrs.
Hanson, when Mr. Harewood, perceiving that Matilda was again in confusion,
said, by way of diverting her attention--"You have seen Mr. Belmont, Miss
Hanson?"
"Yes, I have; and _he_ has seen _me_, to my sorrow. You remind me of a
folly I have by no means forgiven in myself. I still want the eye of a
tutor, you see."
"Charles has, however, been your advocate so effectually, that I believe
not one of the family will ever remember it again."
"Not _one_!" said Matilda, blushing deeply.
"Not _one_! Charles is a warm advocate."
"He is a dear good boy, and always was; I love him very much, and while
I rejoice in his good fortune, I shall be sorry to part with him."
Matilda's frankness assured Mr. Harewood that her heart was free where he
had supposed it bound; he was anxious to read her farther; he saw that she
even sought investigation from him, in whom she confided as a friend and
father; but he again shrunk from the idea of undue influence, and while he
walked about irresolute, time passed, and Edmund and his mother entered the
drawing-room, and Matilda was called to receive them.
An air of coldness and restraint pervaded the manners of both Edmund and
Matilda, to divert which, Mrs. Hanson began to relate the error into which
her daughter had fallen, from the _mauvaise honte_ of Ellen, as she
supposed, and this led them to speak of the ball, and the characters of the
persons present. Of course, poor Matilda was again tormented by hearing
that Sir Theodore was universally believed to be her affianced lover, and
she expressed the most unqualified vexation at the report, declaring that
she would not go once into public again for seven years, rather than
encourage the presumption of the man, or the idle gossip of his admirers.
As she spoke, Edmund was observed to gaze upon her with delight, and exult
in the declaration, as if it were necessary for his happiness; but when
she ceased to speak, he relapsed into melancholy.
"The only way to silence such reports effectually," said Mrs. Hanson, with
a tender smile, "will be to place yourself under the protection of some
worthy man, whose character you can indeed approve. I have ever objected
to your marrying under age, but I have no objection at all to your gaining
liberty, and relinquishing it at the same time. I hope, therefore, in
another year, to see you follow the example of Ellen, provided you can
choose as well as she has done."
"It is the only thing in which I cannot obey you, my dear mother," replied
Matilda.
Hurt with the extreme paleness which overspread the countenance of their
inestimable son, Mr. and Mrs. Harewood withdrew to the window; and Ellen,
whose heart wanted a pretext for watching the arrival of Belmont, joined
them; when Mrs. Hanson, drawing closer to Edmund, said--"I fear you will
not soon join these marrying people, my young friend?"
"I shall never marry, madam," answered he abruptly.
"_Never!_ you are too positive, sir; men at your age change their minds
frequently."
"Matilda knows that I am not subject to change; she may accuse me of many
errors, but not of that."
"I can accuse _you_ of _nothing_," said Matilda; "I wish you could say the
same of me."
"Matilda! Miss Hanson! I accuse you! what right have I to accuse you?"
"Every right. I behaved ill--you condemned me--I saw you did; and--you
punished me. I felt your punishment last night--to-day you forgive me; and
your forgiveness is--why should I not own it? is dear to me."
"Oh, Matilda, do not distract me by this generosity! you will throw me off
my guard--you will induce me to make a declaration that may part us for
ever."
Edmund looked at Mrs. Hanson; her brow was open, pleasure swam in her eye,
and she held her hand towards him as she said--"My dear Edmund, allow me to
ask what you mean by that look of mistrust to me? what right have you to
suppose that I am less generous than yourself, or that I desire to see my
child ungrateful to her young preceptor, or insensible of his merits?"
"Madam! Matilda! what does all this mean? is it possible that I can have
obtained such an advocate as Mrs. Hanson?"
"Edmund, can you really want an advocate with poor erring Matilda? or can
you for a moment accuse her of a fault, which never yet came amongst the
numerous catalogue of her early sins?"
Mrs. Hanson joined the group at the window, and in a few moments they all
descended together, to welcome Charles and Belmont, who soon understood the
happy footing on which those so dear to them were placed; and Charles
enjoyed a hearty laugh at the jealousy he had excited, though he could not
regret a circumstance which had in any measure led to a conclusion so
desirable.
When poor Zebby, whose sable forehead was now shaded by gray locks, was
told all that had happened, she exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm,--"All
right--all happy--Missy have goodee friend, goodee husban--him alway mild
and kind; Missy very goodee too--some time little warm, but never, _never_
when she lookee at massa; him melt her heart, guide her steps, both go hand
in hand to heaven."
The negro's conception of this union has every prospect of being verified,
and proves that the simplest and most uninformed of human beings may yet
enjoy the light of reason, and a just perception of the characters of those
around them.
When Charles had bade adieu to his family, the lovers of Matilda and Ellen
were each urgent for their respective marriages: but the awfulness of that
sacred engagement into which they were about to enter, the consciousness
they entertained of the goodness of their parents, and the happiness of the
state they were quitting, held the young ladies for some time in a state of
apparent suspense, and almost incertitude. This was neither the effect of
want of confidence in the men they loved, nor of that spirit of coquetry by
which the vain and frivolous part of the sex seek to prolong what they
consider the day of their power. Far different ideas pervaded their minds
and influenced their conduct; for not only the tenderness of their
affection for their parents, but the sense of their responsibility as
Christian wives, called to new duties and new avocations, appointed to
guide their inferiors, and submit to their future husbands, pressed upon
their hearts; and when at length the solemn ceremony took place, it was to
each party rather a day of serious thoughtfulness and fearful anxiety, than
one of exultation and exhibition.
In a short time this solicitude vanished, and a sense of happiness,
confidence, and unbounded affection spread over their minds the most
delightful serenity, and rendered every act of duty an act of pleasure.
Matilda looked to Edmund as the guardian of her conduct, and he found in
her the reward of his virtues, the companion whose vivacity enlivened the
fatigue of study, and whose benevolence extended the circle of his
enjoyments; and although apparently of very different tempers, the
affection they felt for each other, and the well-regulated minds they both
possessed, rendered them proverbially good and happy.
After residing a few years abroad, and increasing his knowledge and
reputation, Charles returned, and is now become the husband of Miss Weston,
who is an amiable and virtuous young woman, well calculated to render him
happy. The mother of this young lady still resides with Mrs. Hanson, to
whom her society is particularly valuable, since the removal of Matilda,
whose eldest child is the frequent inmate of her house.
Happy in themselves, and a blessing to the circle around them, Mr. and Mrs.
Belmont reside during the greatest part of the year upon the family estate
of Mr. Belmont in Staffordshire. Ellen, as a country gentlewoman, extends a
quiet but beneficial influence through an extensive neighbourhood, and is
universally beloved and respected.
We will now take leave of the Barbadoes Girl and her friends, with the
sincere wish that all who read her story may, like her, endeavour to
correct in themselves those irregularities of temper, and proneness to
pride and vanity, which, more or less, are the growth of every human heart,
and which can never rise and flourish there, but to the destruction of
every virtue and every comfort; and we earnestly desire them to hold in
mind, that, in order to purify the heart from these unhallowed guests, a
deep sense of religion must be the motive, and a strict principle of
self-control the agent, by which so desirable an end can alone be obtained.
This little story, written rather to instruct than amuse, can only close
with consistency, by briefly recapitulating the lesson it has, perhaps
feebly, but sincerely, endeavoured to inculcate, viz., the necessity of
watchfulness over our hearts--the excellence and advantage of being open
and ingenuous--the efficacy of repentance towards God, and humility even
towards man--and the peculiar necessity of guarding the heart, as with a
tenfold barrier, to those who are blest with riches and prosperity.