CHANGE OF FORTUNE.
“IT was some days,” continued Mr. Eldridge, recovering himself, “before
I could venture to enquire the particulars of what had happened during
my illness: at length I assumed courage to ask my dear girl how long her
mother and brother had been dead: she told me, that the morning after
my arrest, George came home early to enquire after his mother's health,
staid with them but a few minutes, seemed greatly agitated at parting,
but gave them strict charge to keep up their spirits, and hope every
thing would turn out for the best. In about two hours after, as they
were sitting at breakfast, and endeavouring to strike out some plan to
attain my liberty, they heard a loud rap at the door, which Lucy running
to open, she met the bleeding body of her brother, borne in by two men
who had lifted him from a litter, on which they had brought him from
the place where he fought. Her poor mother, weakened by illness and the
struggles of the preceding night, was not able to support this shock;
gasping for breath, her looks wild and haggard, she reached the
apartment where they had carried her dying son. She knelt by the bed
side; and taking his cold hand, 'my poor boy,' said she, 'I will not be
parted from thee: husband! son! both at once lost. Father of mercies,
spare me!' She fell into a strong convulsion, and expired in about two
hours. In the mean time, a surgeon had dressed George's wounds; but they
were in such a situation as to bar the smallest hopes of recovery. He
never was sensible from the time he was brought home, and died that
evening in the arms of his sister.
“Late as it was when this event took place, my affectionate Lucy
insisted on coming to me. 'What must he feel,' said she, 'at our
apparent neglect, and how shall I inform him of the afflictions with
which it has pleased heaven to visit us?'
“She left the care of the dear departed ones to some neighbours who
had kindly come in to comfort and assist her; and on entering the house
where I was confined, found me in the situation I have mentioned.
“How she supported herself in these trying moments, I know not: heaven,
no doubt, was with her; and her anxiety to preserve the life of one
parent in some measure abated her affliction for the loss of the other.
“My circumstances were greatly embarrassed, my acquaintance few,
and those few utterly unable to assist me. When my wife and son were
committed to their kindred earth, my creditors seized my house and
furniture, which not being sufficient to discharge all their demands,
detainers were lodged against me. No friend stepped forward to my
relief; from the grave of her mother, my beloved Lucy followed an almost
dying father to this melancholy place.
“Here we have been nearly a year and a half. My half-pay I have given
up to satisfy my creditors, and my child supports me by her industry:
sometimes by fine needlework, sometimes by painting. She leaves me
every night, and goes to a lodging near the bridge; but returns in
the morning, to cheer me with her smiles, and bless me by her duteous
affection. A lady once offered her an asylum in her family; but she
would not leave me. 'We are all the world to each other,' said she. 'I
thank God, I have health and spirits to improve the talents with which
nature has endowed me; and I trust if I employ them in the support of a
beloved parent, I shall not be thought an unprofitable servant. While he
lives, I pray for strength to pursue my employment; and when it pleases
heaven to take one of us, may it give the survivor resignation to bear
the separation as we ought: till then I will never leave him.'”
“But where is this inhuman persecutor?” said Temple.
“He has been abroad ever since,” replied the old man; “but he has
left orders with his lawyer never to give up the note till the utmost
farthing is paid.”
“And how much is the amount of your debts in all?” said Temple.
“Five hundred pounds,” he replied.
Temple started: it was more than he expected. “But something must be
done,” said he: “that sweet maid must not wear out her life in a prison.
I will see you again to-morrow, my friend,” said he, shaking Eldridge's
hand: “keep up your spirits: light and shade are not more happily
blended than are the pleasures and pains of life; and the horrors of the
one serve only to increase the splendor of the other.”
“You never lost a wife and son,” said Eldridge.
“No,” replied he, “but I can feel for those that have.” Eldridge pressed
his hand as they went toward the door, and they parted in silence.
When they got without the walls of the prison, Temple thanked his friend
Blakeney for introducing him to so worthy a character; and telling him
he had a particular engagement in the city, wished him a good evening.
“And what is to be done for this distressed man,” said Temple, as he
walked up Ludgate Hill. “Would to heaven I had a fortune that would
enable me instantly to discharge his debt: what exquisite transport, to
see the expressive eyes of Lucy beaming at once with pleasure for her
father's deliverance, and gratitude for her deliverer: but is not my
fortune affluence,” continued he, “nay superfluous wealth, when compared
to the extreme indigence of Eldridge; and what have I done to deserve
ease and plenty, while a brave worthy officer starves in a prison? Three
hundred a year is surely sufficient for all my wants and wishes: at any
rate Eldridge must be relieved.”
When the heart has will, the hands can soon find means to execute a good
action.
Temple was a young man, his feelings warm and impetuous; unacquainted
with the world, his heart had not been rendered callous by being
convinced of its fraud and hypocrisy. He pitied their sufferings,
overlooked their faults, thought every bosom as generous as his own, and
would cheerfully have divided his last guinea with an unfortunate fellow
creature.
No wonder, then, that such a man (without waiting a moment for the
interference of Madam Prudence) should resolve to raise money sufficient
for the relief of Eldridge, by mortgaging part of his fortune.
We will not enquire too minutely into the cause which might actuate
him in this instance: suffice it to say, he immediately put the plan in
execution; and in three days from the time he first saw the unfortunate
Lieutenant, he had the superlative felicity of seeing him at liberty,
and receiving an ample reward in the tearful eye and half articulated
thanks of the grateful Lucy.
“And pray, young man,” said his father to him one morning, “what are
your designs in visiting thus constantly that old man and his daughter?”
Temple was at a loss for a reply: he had never asked himself the
question: he hesitated; and his father continued--
“It was not till within these few days that I heard in what manner
your acquaintance first commenced, and cannot suppose any thing but
attachment to the daughter could carry you such imprudent lengths for
the father: it certainly must be her art that drew you in to mortgage
part of your fortune.”
“Art, Sir!” cried Temple eagerly. “Lucy Eldridge is as free from art as
she is from every other error: she is--”
“Everything that is amiable and lovely,” said his father, interrupting
him ironically: “no doubt in your opinion she is a pattern of excellence
for all her sex to follow; but come, Sir, pray tell me what are your
designs towards this paragon. I hope you do not intend to complete your
folly by marrying her.”
“Were my fortune such as would support her according to her merit,
I don't know a woman more formed to insure happiness in the married
state.”
“Then prithee, my dear lad,” said his father, “since your rank and
fortune are so much beneath what your PRINCESS might expect, be so kind
as to turn your eyes on Miss Weatherby; who, having only an estate of
three thousand a year, is more upon a level with you, and whose father
yesterday solicited the mighty honour of your alliance. I shall leave
you to consider on this offer; and pray remember, that your union with
Miss Weatherby will put it in your power to be more liberally the friend
of Lucy Eldridge.”
The old gentleman walked in a stately manner out of the room; and Temple
stood almost petrified with astonishment, contempt, and rage.