_From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle._
Letters are arrived, my dear Lucy, from our island. Fortunately, I was
at the Abbey when they were read at the hall. I rejoice that it so
happened, for I am yet but a novice in counterfeiting; and you will
judge that the contents of these letters required on my part a complete
command of my features. On returning home to supper I found the Baronet
alone, and his air more disturbed than I liked. “I am glad you are
returned,” said he, with eagerness. “We have been very much surprised
to-day; and Miss Flint is seriously indisposed by the intelligence we
have had from Jamaica.” The history of the secret marriage followed.
“Lady Maclairn,” continued he, “entreats you will excuse her appearing
to-night. She is much displeased with her son’s conduct in the course
of this business. She thinks he has been deficient on the point of
honour with you. He ought to have proclaimed his engagement the moment
he heard of Mr. Cowley’s intentions in his favour.”--“He acted from
an opinion much more delicate,” replied I, “for he gave me credit for
sentiments corresponding with his own, and he judged perfectly right
in leaving to Mr. Flamall a business of his own forging, and in which
we had nothing to do. But,” continued I, “from your statement of this
affair as it relates to Mr. Philip Flint, there appears but little for
regret. His brother approves of his choice you say?”--“Yes,” replied
the Baronet, “he speaks warmly in praise of the lady; and the romance
is likely to finish better than most of those in which Cupid is prime
minister. Even his mother would be satisfied with the _denouement_ were
she left to herself; but Mr. Flamall is offended, and we dare not be
placable.” Sir Murdoch coloured. I smiled, and observed that he would
be polite, and bend to the rising fortune of his nephew. “You do not
yet know him,” answered he with agitation. “Indeed I do,” answered I
with gaiety, “and had I known his nephew, we would have effectually
cured him of match-making by our joint labours. I am only angry that I
have had so little share in his present defeat.” The conversation next
turned on Miss Flint’s vexation and grief, of which we both erroneously
judged as it will appear hereafter.
In the morning, the incomprehensible Lady Maclairn appeared with a face
as pale as death, and with solemnity of manner, though with great
composure, she thus addressed me. “It is with much satisfaction, my
dear Miss Cowley, that I am able to recall to my memory my perfect
submission to your request and Sir Murdoch’s wishes. I have not
importuned you on the subject of my son’s pretensions. I rejoiced
at the prohibition, which pleased me as much as yourself. I was not
a stranger to my brother’s ambitious and sanguine prospects for
his nephew; but it was not so clear to me that Philip would always
remain docile to his projects. The late event has convinced me that
I judged rightly. And all I have now to wish is, that my son’s mode
of effecting his happiness may turn out better than the schemes of
his uncle.” “Never doubt it, madam,” said I eagerly; “at any rate he
will be happy for a season, and that is more than his uncle could make
him. But what says Miss Flint to this love match?” “She has shown her
affection on this occasion,” replied her Ladyship. “My brother, by
his violent invectives, has raised an antagonist where he expected an
auxiliary. She is more offended by Mr. Flamall’s resentment than by
her brother’s imprudence, and only laments his not having confided to
her the secret of his heart. She foresees that Oliver Flint’s kindness
and generosity will give him claims unfriendly to her wishes; and she
deplores the loss of her favourite, as fatal to her hopes. I have,
as usual, suppressed my feelings on this subject. I was never judged
competent to the concerns of this child’s establishment in the world.
I bless God that he has escaped the pernicious consequences of being
made of too much importance. If he be happy, I shall be satisfied.” She
drew her son’s letter from her pocket: it was like most of those which
are written on such occasions. The old man’s pleased me better; it is
addressed to Miss Flint, and exhibits a cheerful mind and a benevolent
heart. He begs her good offices to reconcile Lady Maclairn’s to the
marriage, and adds that Philip, by his timidity and secrecy, had lost
one child which might have been saved, and with him, that was his
greatest fault; for that he had got a wife who pleased him, and every
other friend, except Mr. Flamall; “but I shall take care,” adds he, “to
settle that gentleman’s future controul over my children. You would be
as fond of the little wife as we are, my dear Lucretia,” continues the
good man, “if you knew her; she is a pretty, amiable creature, and has
won my heart already. I trust I shall live to share the happiness to
which I have been useful. Philip is a worthy lad, and he is my peculiar
care: have no fears for him, for he is able to walk alone, we want no
_tutors_. So you may tell Mr. Flamall, if you please: and Philip’s
mother may rest satisfied that his conduct is such as reflects no
dishonour on his character. I could say more, but it is needless. We
are all happy at present, thanks to Providence!”
I observed that Mr. Oliver Flint’s letter was a satisfactory one.
“Certainly,” replied she, “as far as it goes; but there is yet secrecy
in the business, and with me concealment portends danger.” She was
summoned to Miss Flint, who is still much indisposed. I am going to
ramble with the Baronet.
(_In continuation._)
--Last night after supper Lady Maclairn again brought forward her
son’s marriage, “I could have wished,” said she, turning to me, “that
Philip had been more explicit in regard to his engagements with his
uncle. I cannot but think he was very wrong in permitting my brother,
for an instant, to entertain the hopes he did; and however these hopes
stood removed from every chance of succeeding, yet I am certain that
Mr. Flamall will be painfully affected by a concealment, which he will
judge an indelible disgrace on Philip’s honour. He certainly ought to
have prevented his uncle’s entertaining the prospects he has done.” “I
will have no judgment passed on _my lover_,” replied I, with unaffected
gaiety; “all stratagems are lawful under unusurped power; and till I
can discover a better reason for my censure than his keeping his own
secrets, I shall esteem Mr. Philip Flint.” “I have, however, often
reflected,” said Sir Murdoch, “that in these secret engagements, there
is one danger which is rarely insisted on. We can expatiate on the
evils of what are justly called imprudent marriages, and inconsiderate
connexions; but we seldom think of the deviations from the road of
truth which they necessarily force the unwary to tread. The plots and
contrivances, the duplicity and deceit, which ordinarily enter into
a youthful intrigue, are in my opinion more serious evils, than the
difficulties so commonly annexed to a _love match_, as such clandestine
engagements are called. The native innocence and rectitude of the mind
is broken into; deceit is become familiar, and has been found useful
to the purpose of the passions; and it ought not to surprise any one,
that a young man, or a young woman, who has attained the desired object
by the road of contrivance and imposition, should continue to profit
by their acquaintance with them, whenever it suits their views or
inclinations.”
Never shall I forget the countenance of Lady Maclairn! She had her
eyes fixed, and her brows elevated; her breath was short, and her
colour forsook her, but as it appeared in spots on her bosom. God knows
whether I judged right, but I hesitated not a moment. I rose abruptly,
and brushing her neck with my hand, I said, “It is not a spider.” She
made no reply, but drank some water from the glass before her. Malcolm,
praising my courage, and gently reproving his mother’s dread of so
harmless an insect, insisted on her drinking some wine. She complied,
and in a tone of ill-affected gaiety drank to her _deliverer_: and I am
persuaded, Lucy, that for the moment _I was her deliverer_. Mrs. Allen
observed her extreme distress as well as myself, and our reasonings
are endless. We know not the heart of Lady Maclairn! Receive the
affectionate farewell of mine which you do know, in all its weaknesses
and wanderings.