_Lamented goodness!--Yet I see
The fond affection melting in her eye.
She bends its tearful orb on me,
And heaves the tender sigh;
As thoughtful she the toils surveys,
That crowd in life's perplexing maze._
Langhorne
My father signalised my return from school by a change in his mode of
life. He had been accustomed to repair regularly every morning at ten
o'clock, to the counting-house; and there, or upon 'Change, he spent the
greater part of the day in a routine of business, which twenty years had
seen uninterrupted, save by the death of my mother, and a weekly journey
to his villa at Richmond, where he always spent Saturday and Sunday.
Upon placing me at the head of his establishment, my father, not aware
of the difference between possessing leisure and enjoying it, determined
to shake off, in part, the cares of business, and to exchange a life of
toil for one of recreation, or rather of repose. Upon this account, and
tempted by a valuable consideration, he admitted into the house a junior
partner, who undertook to perform all the drudgery of superintending one
of the most extensive mercantile concerns in London, while my father
retained a large share of the profits.
At the Christmas holidays I quitted school, impatient to enter on the
delights of womanhood. My father, whose ideas of relaxation were all
associated with his villa at Richmond, determined that I should there
spend the time which intervened before the commencement of the gay
winter. In compliance with my request, he invited Miss Arnold, whose
liberation took place at the same time with my own, to spend a few weeks
with me,--an invitation which was gladly accepted.
This indulgence, however, was somewhat balanced by the presence of a
very different companion. My mother was a woman of real piety; and to
her was accorded that 'medicine of life,' which respectable authority
has assigned exclusively to persons of that character. She had a
'faithful friend.' This friend still survived, and in her my father
sought a kind and judicious adviser for my inexperience. He pressed her
to make his house her permanent abode, and to share with him in the
government of my turbulent spirit, until it should be consigned to other
authority. Miss Elizabeth Mortimer, therefore, though she refused to
relinquish entirely the independence of a home, left her cottage for a
while to the care of her only maid-servant; and rejoicing in an occasion
of manifesting affection for her departed friend, and pleasing herself
with the idea that one bond of sympathy yet remained between them,
prepared to revive her friendship to the mother in acts of kindness to
the child.
I regret to say that she was received with sentiments much less
amicable. Miss Arnold and I considered her as a spy upon our actions,
and a restraint upon our pleasures. We called her Argus and duenna;
voted her a stick, a bore, a quiz, or, to sum up all reproach in one
comprehensive epithet, a Methodist. Not that she really was a sectary.
On the contrary, she was an affectionate and dutiful daughter of the
establishment, countenancing schismatics no further, than by adopting
such of their doctrines and practices as are plainly scriptural, and by
testifying towards them, on all occasions, whether of opposition or
conformity, a charity which evinced the divinity of its own origin. But
Miss Mortimer displayed a practical conviction, that grey hairs ought to
be covered with a cap; and that a neck of five-and-forty is the better
for a handkerchief; she attended church regularly; was seldom seen in a
public place; and, above all, was said to have the preposterous custom
of condescending to join her own servants in daily prayer. Miss Arnold
and I were persuaded that our duenna would attempt to import this
'pernicious superstition' into her new residence, and we resolved upon a
vigorous resistance of her authority.
Our spirit, however, was not put to the proof. Miss Mortimer affected no
authority. She seemed indeed anxious to be useful, but afraid to be
officious. She was even so sparing of direct advice, that, had she not
been the most humble of human beings, I should have said that she
trusted to the dignity and grace of her general sentiments, and the
beautiful consistency of her example, for effecting the enormous
transition from what I was to what I ought to be.
Her gentleness converted the dislike of her charge into feelings
somewhat less hostile. My friend and I could find nothing offensive in
her singularities; we therefore attempted to make them amusing. We
invented dismal cases of calamity, and indited piteous appeals to her
charity, making her often trudge miles over the snow in search of
fictitious objects of compassion; that we might laugh at the credulity
which was never deaf to the cry of want, and at the principle which
refused to give without enquiry. We hid her prayer-book; purloined her
hoards of baby linen and worsted stockings; and pasted caricatures on
the inside of her pew in church.
Much of the zest of these excellent jokes was destroyed by the calm
temper and perverse simplicity of Miss Mortimer. If by chance she was
betrayed into situations really ludicrous, nobody laughed with more
hearty relish than she. Even on the more annoying of these practical
jests, she smiled with good-natured contempt; never, even by the
slightest glance, directing to Miss Arnold or myself the pity which she
expressed for the folly of the contriver. We could never perceive that
she suspected us of being her persecutors; and her simplicity, whether
real or affected, compelled us to a caution and respect which we would
have renounced had we been openly detected. Our jokes, however, such as
they were, we carried on with no small industry and perseverance; every
day producing some invention more remarkable for mischief than for wit.
At last the tragical issue of one of our frolics inclined me to a
suspension of hostilities; and had it not been for the superior firmness
of my friend Miss Arnold, I believe I should have finally laid down my
arms.
We were invited one day to dine with a neighbouring gentleman, a
widower; whose family of dissipated boys and giddy girls were the chosen
associates of Miss Arnold and myself. My father was otherwise engaged,
and could not go; but Miss Mortimer accepted the invitation, very little
to the satisfaction of the junior members of the party, who had
projected a plan for the evening, with which her presence was likely to
interfere. Miss Arnold and I, therefore, exerted all our ingenuity to
keep her at home. We spilt a dish of tea upon her best silk gown; we
pressed her to eat pine-apple in hopes of exasperating her toothach;
and we related to her a horrible robbery and murder which had been
committed only the night before, in the very lane through which we were
to pass. These and many other contrivances proved ineffectual. As Miss
Mortimer could not wear her best gown, she could go in a worse; she
would not eat pine-apple; and she insisted that those who had committed
the murder only the night before must be bloody-minded indeed if they
were ready to commit another. Next I bribed the coachman to say that the
barouche could not stir till it was repaired; but my father, who, on
this occasion, seemed as determined as Miss Mortimer, insisting that we
should go under her auspices or not go at all, settled that Miss Arnold
should ride, while I drove Miss Mortimer in the curricle.
Highly displeased with this decision, I resolved that Miss Mortimer,
whose forte certainly was not strength of nerve, should rue the mettle
of her charioteer. With this good-natured purpose, I privately arranged
that a race should be run between my steeds, and those which were
mounted by Miss Arnold, and one of the fry which had already begun to
swarm round the rich Miss Percy. We set off quietly enough, but we were
no sooner out of sight of my father's windows, than the signal was
given, and away we flew with the speed of lightning. I saw poor Miss
Mortimer look aghast, though she betrayed no other sign of fear, and I
had a malicious triumph in the thoughts of compelling her to sue for
quarter.
'Is it not better, my dear,' said she at last, 'to drive a little more
deliberately? The road is narrow here, and if we were to run over some
poor creature, I know you would never forgive yourself.'
There was such irresistible mildness in the manner of this
expostulation, that I could not disregard it; and I was checking my
horses at the moment, when my beau, who had fallen behind, suddenly
passed me. He gave them a triumphant smack with his whip, and the
high-mettled animals sprang forward with a vigour that baffled my
opposition: At this moment a decent-looking woman, in standing aside to
let me pass, unfortunately threw herself into the line of his course;
and I felt the horror which I deserved to feel, when my companions, each
bounding over her, left her lying senseless within a step of the
destruction which I had lost the power to avert.
From the guilt of murder I was saved by the fortitude of a stranger. He
boldly seized the rein; and, with British strength of arm turning the
horses short round, they reared, backed, and in an instant overturned
the carriage. The stranger, alarmed by this consequence of his
interference, hastened to extricate Miss Mortimer and myself; while our
jockeys, too intent on the race to look back, were already out of sight.
Miss Mortimer looked pale as death, and trembled exceedingly; yet the
moment she was at liberty she flew to the poor woman, whom the stranger
raised from the ground. They chafed her temples, and administered every
little remedy which they could command, while I stood gazing on her in
inactive alarm. At length she opened her eyes; and so heavy a weight was
lifted from my heart, that I could not refrain from bursting into tears;
but unwilling to exhibit these marks of a reproving conscience, I turned
proudly away.
It soon appeared that the woman was not materially hurt,--the horses,
more sagacious and humane than their riders, having cleared without
striking her. Her cottage was not fifty yards distant from the spot, and
Miss Mortimer, with the stranger, conducted her home; whilst I stood
biting my glove, and affecting to superintend the people who were
raising our overturned vehicle. The charitable pair soon returned.
Neither of us being inclined to mount the curricle again, Miss Mortimer
proposed that we should walk home, and send an apology to our party. But
dreading that the temptation of an evening's _tete-a-tete_ might draw
something like a lecture from Miss Mortimer, I determined to accomplish
my visit; and she consented that we should proceed on foot, giving, at
the same time, permission to her companion to attend us.
I felt a sullen disinclination to talk, and therefore had full leisure
to examine the stranger, whom Miss Mortimer introduced to me by the name
of Maitland, adding that he was her old acquaintance. He was a tall,
erect man, of a figure more athletic than graceful. His features were
tolerably regular, and his eyes the brightest I have ever seen; but he
was deprived of his pretensions to be called handsome, by a certain
_bony_ squareness of countenance, which we on the south side of the
Tweed are accustomed to account a national deformity. His smile was
uncommonly pleasing, either from its contrast with the ordinary cast of
his countenance, or because it displayed the whitest and most regular
teeth in the world; but he smiled so seldom as almost to forfeit these
advantages. His accent was certainly provincial; yet I believe that,
without the assistance of his name, I could not decidedly have
pronounced him to be a Scotchman. His language, however, was that of a
gentleman; always correct, often forcible, and sometimes elegant. But he
spoke little, and his conversation borrowed neither strength nor grace
from his manner, which was singularly calm, motionless, and
unimpassioned.
Either from habitual reserve with strangers, or from particular
disapprobation of me, he addressed himself almost entirely to Miss
Mortimer, paying me no other attentions than bare civility required; and
I, who had already begun to expect far other devoirs, from every man who
accosted me, rejoiced when the conclusion of our walk separated us from
the presumptuous being who had dared to treat me as a secondary person.
As soon as we entered Mr Vancouver's house, my young companions
surrounded me, laughing and hallooing,--'Beaten, beaten,--fairly
beaten!' The victors pressed forward before the rest. 'Down with your
five guineas, Ellen,' cried Miss Arnold.--'Oh! faith 'twas a hollow
thing!' shouted the other. Real sorrow for my fault would have made me
gentle to those of my fellow-transgressors; but the shame of a proud
heart had a contrary effect.--'Take your five guineas,' said I, throwing
them my purse with great disdain, 'and you had better help yourself to a
little more--_that_ will scarcely repay the risk of being tried for
murder.' My ill-humour effected an instantaneous change on the
countenances of the group. Miss Arnold, quite crest-fallen, picked up
the purse, and stood twisting it in her hand, looking very silly, while
she tried to excuse herself, and to throw all the blame upon her
companion. He retorted, and their mutual recriminations were
occasionally renewed during the afternoon; banishing whatever good
humour had been spared by the disappointment which Miss Mortimer had
undesignedly occasioned. At last, to our mutual satisfaction, the party
separated; and Miss Mortimer, with her hopeful charge, returned home.
Never, during the whole day, did a syllable of reproof escape the lips
of Miss Mortimer. She seemed willing to leave me to my conscience, and
confident that its sentence would be just. But when, on retiring for the
night, I could not help exclaiming, 'Thank heaven! this day is
done!'--she took my hand, and said, with a look of great kindness, 'Let
me dispose of one hour of your time to-morrow, dear Ellen, and I will
endeavour to make it pass more agreeably.' I felt no real gratitude for
her forbearance, because I had argued myself, with Miss Arnold's
assistance, into a conviction that Miss Mortimer had no right to
interfere; but I could not withstand the soothing gentleness of her
manner, and therefore promised that I should be at her command at any
hour she pleased.
Next day, therefore, while Miss Arnold was shopping in town, I became
the companion of Miss Mortimer's morning walk; but I own, I began to
repent of my complaisance, when I perceived that she was conducting me
to the cottage of the poor woman who had so nearly been the victim of my
late frolic. 'Is this,' thought I, 'the way that Miss Elizabeth fulfils
her promise of making the hour pass agreeably? Such a finesse might do
mighty well for a methodist; but what would she have said, had I been
the author of it? It is wonderfully delightful to detect the errors of a
saint. On first discovering our destination, my feelings had wavered
between shame and anger; but the detection of Miss Mortimer's supposed
peccadillo restored me to so much self-complacency, that I was able at
least to conceal my reluctance, and entered the cottage with a pretty
good grace.
The apartment was clean and comfortable. The furniture, though simple,
was rather more abundant and more tasteful than is common in the abodes
of labour. Two neat shelves on the wall contained a few books; and in
the window stood a tambouring frame. On one side of the fire-place our
old woman was busy at her spinning-wheel; on the other, in all the ease
of a favourite, lay a beautiful Italian greyhound. Miss Mortimer, with
the frankness of old acquaintance, accosted our hostess, who received
her with respectful kindness. While they were asking and answering
questions of courtesy and good-will, the dog, who had started up on our
entrance, did the honours to me. He looked up in my face, smelled my
clothes, examined me again, and, wagging his tail, seemed to claim
acquaintance. I, too, thought I remembered the animal, though I could
not recollect where I had seen him; and I own, I was glad to relieve a
certain embarrassment which the old woman's presence occasioned me, by
returning his caresses with interest.
'Mrs Wells,' said Miss Mortimer, when she had finished her enquiries, 'I
have brought Miss Percy to visit you.'
In spite of my affected nonchalance, I was not a little relieved when I
discovered, by the old woman's answer, that she had not recognised me as
the author of her accident. 'Miss Ellen!' she exclaimed, as if with
surprise and pleasure. Then taking my hand with a sort of obsequious
affection, she said, 'Dear young lady, I should never have known you
again, you are so grown! and I have never seen you since I lost my best
friend,' added she, shaking her head mournfully. 'Poor Fido,' resumed
she, 'he has more sagacity. He knew you again in a minute.'
'Fido, mamma's Fido!' cried I, and I stooped over the animal to hide the
tears that were rushing to my eyes.
'Yes, miss, your papa sent him here, because he said he did not like to
have him killed, being that he was but a young thing, and the very last
thing that worthy Mrs Percy had ever taken a liking to; and he could not
keep him about the house, because you never set eyes on him but you
cried fit to break your heart. So he sent him here, where he was very
welcome, as he had a good right to be, having belonged to her; for it
was owing to her that I had a home to bring him to.'
'How was that?' enquired I, with some eagerness; for, to this day, my
heart beats warm when I hear the praises of my mother.
'Why, ma'am,' returned she, 'my husband was a sober, industrious man,
but we were unfortunate in working for great people, who never thought
of our wants, because they had no wants of their own. So we became
bankrupt, and that went to my husband's heart; for he had a high spirit.
So he pined and pined away. I sold our little furniture, and then our
clothes; and paid for all honestly, as far as it would go. But what with
the doctors and what with the funeral, my two poor little girls and I
were quite destitute. I believe it was the second night after my Thomas
was laid in his grave, that my youngest girl was crying for bread, and I
had none to give her. I saw the eldest cry too; but she said it was not
for hunger. So, with one thing and another, I was desperate, and told
the children I would go and beg for them. The little one bid me go, for
she was hungry; but Sally said I should never beg for her, and followed
me to the door, holding me back, and crying bitterly. So, just then,
Providence sent that good spirit, Mrs Percy, by our house, and she
looked so earnestly at us--for it was not in her nature to see any
creature in sorrow, and pass by on the other side:--I thought I could
take courage to speak to her; but, when I tried it, I had not the heart;
for I had never begged before. But when she saw how things were, I did
not need to beg; for she had the heart of a Christian, and the hand of a
princess. She put us into this house, and gave us whatever was really
needful for us. I was a good worker with my needle then, though my eyes
are failing me now; and she got me as much work as I could overtake. She
came, besides, every forenoon herself, and taught my eldest girl to make
gowns, and my youngest to tambour, so that now they can earn their own
bread, and the most part of mine. Yes, Miss Ellen,' continued the woman,
perceiving that she had fixed my pleased attention, 'your worthy mother
did more than this; she brought heavenly hopes to me when I had few
hopes upon earth; she gave pious counsels to my children, and they
minded them the more for coming from so great a lady; so that they are
good girls, and a real comfort to my old age.'
After some further conversation, Miss Mortimer put an end to our visit.
I own I was somewhat struck with the contrast between the cottager's
obligations to my mother and to myself; and I had a desire to place this
matter on a footing less painful to my feelings, or, to speak more
justly, less galling to my pride. For this reason, when we had gone a
few steps from the cottage, I returned, pretending that I had forgotten
my handkerchief. 'Mrs Wells,' said I, 'I have a great desire to possess
Fido,--will you make an exchange with me?' continued I, presenting my
purse to her.
The good woman coloured deeply; and, drawing back with a little air of
stateliness, said, 'You are welcome to poor Fido, ma'am. Indeed, as for
that, your mother's child is welcome to the best I have; but I cannot
think of selling the poor dumb animal. No,' said she, her spirit
struggling with the sob that was rising in her throat, 'I shall be
poorly off indeed, before I sell the least thing that ever was hers.'
I own, I felt myself colour in my turn, as I awkwardly withdrew my
purse; and I had not the confidence to look the woman in the face, while
I said, 'Give me poor Fido, then, for my mother's sake; and perhaps the
time may come when you will allow me the pleasure of assisting you for
my own.'
'One of the girls, ma'am, shall take him to the Park this evening. I
know Miss Mortimer wished to have him, but you have the best right to
him; and I hope you will make him be kindly treated, ma'am; he is used
to kindness.'
I thanked the good woman, promised attention to her favourite, and
hurried away. Fido arrived at the Park that afternoon, and soon became
the most formidable rival of Miss Arnold; nor unjustly, for he was
playful, fawning, and seemingly affectionate,--the very qualities to
which she owed my favour.
'See, my dear Ellen,' said Miss Mortimer, when I rejoined her, 'see how
your mother's mornings were spent.' Had any one but my mother furnished
the subject of this apostrophe; or had my friend Miss Arnold been
present to witness its application, I should certainly have turned it
off, by ridiculing the absurdity of a handsome woman of fashion spending
her time in teaching cottage girls mantua-making and morality. But now,
tenderness stealing on my self-reproach, I only answered with a sigh,
'Ah! my mother was an angel; I must not pretend to resemble her.'
'My dearest child!' cried Miss Mortimer, catching my hand with more
animation than she had ever shown in speaking to me, 'why this ill-timed
humility? Born to such splendid advantages, why should you not aspire to
make your life a practical thanksgiving to the bestower? I acknowledge,
that your own strength is not "sufficient for these things," but He who
has called you to be perfect, will----'
'Oh! pray now, my good Miss Mortimer,' interrupted I, 'give over for
to-day,--I am more than half melancholy already. Ten or a dozen years
hence, I shall attend to all these matters.'
Before my reader comment on the wisdom of this reply, let him examine,
whether there be any more weight in the reasons which delay his own
endeavours after Christian perfection.
Our dialogue was interrupted by the appearance of Mr Maitland, who
alighted at the wicket of the cottage garden, with the intention of
enquiring after the widow; but, upon hearing that she felt no bad
effects from her accident, he gave his horse to his servant, and
accompanied us, or rather Miss Mortimer, to the Park. A few civil
enquiries were indeed, the only notice which he deigned to bestow upon
me; and, to own the truth, I was not at all more gracious to him.
At the door of Sedly Park, stood my father as usual with one arm resting
in the hollow of his back, the other supported by his gold-headed cane;
and he not only discomposed this favourite attitude by offering his hand
to Mr Maitland, but advanced some steps to meet him, a mark of regard
which I do not recollect having seen him bestow on any other visiter. He
followed up this courtesy, by pressing his guest to dine with him, and
Mr Maitland was at length induced to comply; while I stood wondering
what my father could mean, by expending so much civility upon a person
of whom nobody had ever heard before.
I cannot pretend to have made any observations upon Mr Maitland's
manners or conversation during this visit, having previously convinced
myself, that neither was worth observing. After dinner, while he
discoursed with my father and Miss Mortimer, I, agreeably to the polite
practice of many young ladies, formed, apart with Miss Arnold and the
young Vancouvers, a coterie which, if not the most entertaining, was at
least the most noisy part of the company; the sound and form holding due
proportion to the shallowness. My father made some ineffectual attempts
to reduce us to order; and Miss Mortimer endeavoured to dissolve our
combination, by addressing her remarks to me; but I, scarcely answering
her, continued to talk and titter apart with my companions till it was
time for our visiters to depart.
As soon as they were gone, my father strode gravely to the upper end of
the room, planted himself firmly with his back to the fire, and,
knitting his brows, addressed me as I stood at the further
window;--'Miss Percy,' said he 'I do not approve of your behaviour this
afternoon. I have placed you at the head of a splendid establishment,
and I desire you will consider it as your duty to entertain my
guests,--all my guests, Miss Percy.'
A few moments of dead silence followed, and my father quitted the room.
Had this well-deserved reproof been given in private, I might have
acknowledged its justice, but Miss Mortimer and my friend were present
to stimulate my abhorrence of blame; and, as soon as my father
disappeared, I began a surly complaint of his ill humour, wondering
'whether he expected me to sit starched by the side of every tiresome
old fellow he brought to his house, like the wooden cuts of William and
Mary.'
Miss Arnold joined me in ridiculing the absurdity of such an
expectation; but Miss Mortimer took part with my father. 'Indeed, my
dear,' said she, 'you must allow me to say, that Mr Percy's guests, of
whatever age, have an equal right to your attentions. I particularly
wish you had distributed them more impartially to-day; for I would have
had you appear with advantage to Mr Maitland, whom I imagine you would
not have found tiresome and who is certainly not very old.'
'Appear with advantage to Mr Maitland!' exclaimed I:--'oh! now the
murder is out. My father and Miss Mortimer want me to make a conquest of
Stiffy.'
Miss Arnold laughed immoderately at the idea. 'You make a conquest of Mr
Maitland!' repeated Miss Mortimer in her turn, gazing in my face with
grave simplicity; 'no, my dear, that, indeed, surpasses my expectation.
Mr Maitland!' exclaimed she again, in a sort of smiling soliloquy over
her knitting;--'no, that would indeed be too absurd.'
I own my pride was piqued by this opinion of Miss Mortimer's; and I felt
some inclination to convince her, that there was no such violent
absurdity in expecting that a stiff old bachelor should be caught by a
handsome heiress of seventeen. I half determined to institute a
flirtation.
The idea was too amusing to be abandoned, and Mr Maitland soon gave me
an opportunity of commencing my operations. He again visited Sedly Park;
and, in spite of several repulses, I contrived to draw him into
conversation; and even succeeded in obtaining my full share of his
attention. But when he rose to be gone, I recollected with surprise,
that I had spent half an hour without talking much nonsense, or hearing
any. Our second interview was not more effective. At the end of the
third I renounced my attack as utterly hopeless; and should as soon have
thought of shaping a dangler out of Cincinnatus. Mr Maitland's heart,
too, seemed as impregnable as his dignity; and I was glad to forget that
I had ever formed so desperate a project as an attempt upon either.
Our acquaintance, however, continued to make some progress; and if at
any luckless hour I happened to be deserted by more animating
companions, I could pass the time very tolerably with Mr Maitland. I
believe he was a scholar, and to this perhaps he owed that force and
variety of language which was often amusing, independently of the
sentiment which it conveyed. He possessed, besides, a certain dry
sententious humour, of which the effect was heightened by the inflexible
gravity of his countenance, and by the low tones of a voice altogether
unambitious of emphasis. His stiffness, which was too gentle for
hauteur, and too self-possessed for bashfulness, was a constitutional or
rather, perhaps, a national reserve; which made some amends for its
repulsive effect upon strangers, by gratifying the vanity of those who
were able to overcome it. I own that I was selfish enough to be
flattered by the distinction which he appeared to make between Miss
Arnold and myself; the more so, because there was, I know not what, in
Mr Maitland, which impressed me with the idea of a sturdy rectitude that
bowed to no extrinsic advantage. This gratification, however, was
balanced by the preference which he constantly showed for Miss Mortimer;
and such was my craving for adulation, that I was at times absolutely
nettled by this preference, although Mr Maitland was some years above
thirty.
Towards the end of our stay at Sedly Park, his visits became more
frequent; but in spite of his company, and that of many other gentlemen
more agreeable to me, I was dying with impatience for our removal to
town. My eagerness increased, when I accidentally heard, that Lady Maria
de Burgh had already started as the reigning beauty of the winter. When
this intelligence was conveyed to me, I was standing opposite to a large
mirror. I glanced towards it, recalled with some contempt the miniature
charms of my fairy competitor, and sprung away to entreat that my father
would immediately remove to town. But my father had already fixed the
fourteenth of January for his removal; and Miss Arnold alleged, that
nothing short of a fire would have hastened his departure, or reduced
him to the degradation of acquainting the family that he had changed his
mind.
The fourteenth of January, however, at length arrived, and I was
permitted to enter the scene of my imaginary triumphs.