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mults of a soul to whom his villainy was yet from Sindall, told her, he had taken measures unknown, and whose affections his appearance for carrying into execution the purpose it conof worth, of friendship, and nobleness of mind, tained. had but too much entangled.

It informed her, that Sir Thomas was in the However imperfectly he had accounted for house of an old domestic at some miles distance, delaying a marriage, which he always profess- where he waited to be made her's. That he ed his intention to perform, the delusion was had for this secrecy many reasons, with which kept up in the expectations of Harriet, till that he could not, by such a conveyance, make her period began to draw near, when it would be acquainted, but which her own prudence would impossible any longer to conceal from the world probably suggest. He concluded with recomthe effects of their intimacy. Then, indeed, mending her to the care and protection of her uneasiness was not to be allayed by such Camplin, whose honour he warmly extolled. excuses as Sindall had before relied on her art- She paused a moment on the perusal of this less confidence to believe. He wrote her, there- billet.—“Oh! heavens !” said she, “ to what fore, an answer to a letter full of the most ear- have I reduced myself !—Mr Camplin, what am nest, as well as tender, expostulations, inform- I to do? Whither are you to carry me? Paring her, of his having determined to run any don my confusion-I scarce know what I say risk of inconvenience to himself, rather than to you. suffer her to remain longer in a state, such as “ I have a chaise and four ready," answered she had (pathetically indeed) described ; that Camplin, “ at the end of the lane, which in an he was to set out in a few days for the country, hour or two, Madam, will convey you to Sir to make himself indissolubly' hers; but that it Thomas Sindall.”—“But my father, good heawas absolutely necessary that she should allow yen! to leave my father !”" Consider,” said him to conduct their marriage in a particular he, “ 'tis but for a little while: my boy shall manner, which he would communicate to her carry a note to acquaint him, that you are gone on his arrival; and begged, as she valued his on a visit, and will return in the evening.” peace and her own, that the whole matter “ Return! Methinks I feel a foreboding, that might still remain inviolably secret, as she had I shall never return.”—He put a piece of paper hitherto kept it.

and a pencil into her hand, the note was writIn a few days after the receipt of this letter, ten, anà dispatched by the boy, to whom he she received a note from Camplin, importing beckoned at some distance where he had waithis desire to have an interview with her on some ed." Now, Madam,” said he, “ let me conparticular business, which related equally to duct you.”- -Her knees knocked so against her and to Sir Thomas Sindall. The time ap- each other, that it was with difficulty she could pointed was early in the morning of the suc- walk, even with the support of his arm. They ceeding day; and the place, a little walk which reached the chaise; a servant who stood by it, the villagers used to frequent in holiday-times, opened the door to admit her; she put her foot at the back of her father's garden. This was on the step, then drew it back again. “Be not delivered to her, in a secret manner, by a little afraid, Madam,” said Camplin, “ you go to be boy, an attendant of that gentleman's, who was happy.” She put her foot up again, and stood a frequent guest in Annesly's kitchen, from his in that attitude a moment; she cast back a look talent at playing the flageolet, which he had ac

to the little on of her father, whence the quired in the capacity of a drummer to the re- smoke was now rolling its volumes in the calm giment to which his master belonged. Mysteri- of a beautiful morning. A gush of tenderness ous as the contents of this note were, the mind swelled her heart at the sight-She burst into of Harriet easily suggested to her, that Camplin tears—But the crisis of her fate was come—and had been, in some respect at least, let into the she entered the carriage, which drove off at a. confidence of Sir Thomas. She now felt the furious rate, Camplin commanding the postilwant of that dignity which innocence bestows; lion to make as much speed as was possible. she blushed and trembled, even in the presence of this little boy, because he was Camplin's ; and, with a shaking hand, scrawled a note in

CHAP. XXVIII. answer to that he had brought her, to let his master know, that she would meet him at the The effects which the Event contained in the prehour he had appointed. She met him accord- ceding Chapter hail on Mr Annes'y. ingly.

He began with making many protestations The receipt of that note which Harriet was of his regard, both for Miss Annesly and the persuaded by Camplin to write to her father, Baronet, which had induced him, he said, to de- (intimating that she was gone upon a visit to a dicate himself to the service of both in this af- family in the neighbourhood, and not to return fair, though it was a matter of such delicacy till the evening,) though her time of going as he would not otherwise have chosen to in- abroad was somewhat unusual, did not create terfere in; and putting into her hand a letter any surprise in the mind of Annesly; but it

manner.

happened that Mrs Wistanly, who called in the and the tears gushed from his eyes. - His-masafternoon to inquire after her young friend, had ter's were turned upwards, to that Being to just left the very house where her message im whom calamity ever directed them.—The maidported her visit to be made. This set her fa- servant now entered the room, uttering some ther on conjecturing, yet without much anxie- broken exclamations of sorrow, which a violent ty, and with no suspicion ; but his fears were sobbing rendered inarticulate.-Annesly had redoubled, when, having sat up till a very late finished his account with heaven; and, addresse hour, no tidings arrived of his daughter. He ing her with a degree of calmness, which the went to bed, however, though it could not af- good man could derive only thence, asked her ford him sleep; at every bark of the village- the cause of her being afflicted in so unusual a dogs his heart bounded with the hopes of her

Oh, sir!" said she, stilling her tears, return; but the morning arose, and did not “ I have heard what the captain's boy has been restore him his Harriet.

telling; I fear it is but too true, and worse His uneasiness had been observed by his ser- than you imagine! God forgive me, if I wrong vants, to whom he was too indulgent a master Miss Harriet; but I suspect— I have suspected to have bis interests considered by them with for some time”-she burst into tears again,less warmth than their own. Abraham, there- “ that my young lady is with child."-Annesfore, who was coeval with his master, and had ly had stretched his fortitude to the utmostserved him ever since he was married, had sal- this last blow overcame it, and he fell senseless lied forth by day-break in search of intelligence. on the floor. Abraham threw himself down by He was met accidentally by a huntsman of Sir him, tearing his white locks, and acting all the Thomas Sindall's, who informed him, that as frantic extravagancies of grief. But the maid he crossed the lane at the back of the village was more useful to her master ; and having the morning before, he saw Miss Annesly lean- raised him gently, and chafed his temples, he ing on Captain Camplin's arm, and walking with began to shew some signs of reviving; when him towards a chaise and four, which stood at Abraham recollected himself so far as to assist the end of it. Abraham's cheeks grew pale at his fellow-servant in carrying him to his chamthis intelligence ; because he had å sort of in- ber, and laying him on his bed, where he restinctive terror for Camplin, who was in use to covered the powers of life, and the sense of his make his awkward simplicity a fund for many misfortune. jests and tricks of mischief, during his visits to Their endeavours for his recovery were seAnnesly. He hastened home to communicate conded by Mrs Wistanly, who had made this this discovery to his master, which he did with early visit to satisfy some doubts which she, as a faultering tongue, and many ejaculations of well as Annesly, had conceived, even from the fear and surprise. Annesly received it with less information of the preceding day. When he emotion, though not without an increase of first regained the use of speech, he complained uneasiness. “ Yonder,” said Abraham, looking of a violent shivering, for which this good lady, through the window, " is the captain's little from the little skill she possessed in physic, boy;" and he ran out of the room to bring him prescribed some simple remedies, and at the to an examination. The lad, upon being inter- same time dispatched Abraham for an apotherogated, confessed, that his master had sent cary in the neighbourhood, who commonly athim to hire a chaise, which was to be in wait- tended the family. ing at the end of that lane I have formerly Before this gentleman arrived, Annesly had mentioned, at an early hour in the morning, received so much temporary relief from Mrs and that he saw Miss Annesly go into it, at- Wistanly's prescriptions, as to be able to speak tended by the captain, who had not, any more with more ease, than the incessant quivering of than Miss Harriet, been at home, or heard of his lips had before allowed him to do. “ Alas!" since that time. This declaration deprived An- said he, “ Mrs Wistanly, have you heard of nesly of utterance ; but it only added to the my Harriet?"-" I have, sir,” said she, “ with warinth of Abraham's inquisition, who, now equal astonishment and sorrow; yet let me enmingling threats with his questions, drew from treat you not to abandon that hope which the the boy the secret of his having privately deli- present uncertainty may warrant. I cannot alvered a letter, from his master to Miss Annes- low myself to think, that things are so ill as ly, the very night preceding the day of their your servants have informed me.”—“My foredeparture ; and that a man of his acquaintance, boding heart,” said he, “ tells me they are. ! who had stopt, about mid-day, at the ale-house remember many circumstances now, which all where he was quartered, told him, by way of meet to confirm my fears. Oh ! Mrs Wistanly, conversation, that he had met his master with she was my darling, the idol of my heart ! a lady, whom he supposed, jeeringly, he was perhaps too much so—the will of heaven be running away with, driving at a great rate on done!” the road towards London. Abraham made a The apothecary now arrived, who, upon exa. sign to the boy to leave the room.-“My poor mining into the state of his patient, ordered dear young lady !” said he, as he shut the door, some warm applications, to remove that uni

versal coldness he complained of ; and left him ter the room in the morning, though he was in with a promise of returning in a few hours, a confused slumber at the time, and might have when he had finished some visits, which he was mistaken a dream for the reality. Upon Abraunder a necessity of making in the village. ham's informing him, that Mr Rawlinson had

When he returned, he found Mr Annesly been there, that he had left the house but a altered for the worse; the cold, which the lat- moment before, and that he was to remain in ter felt before, having given place to a burning the village for some time, he expressed the heat. He therefore told Mrs Wistanly, at go- warmest satisfaction at the intelligence; and ing away, that in the evening he would bring a having made Abraham fetch him a paper which physician, with whom he had an appointment lay in his bureau sealed up in a particular at a gentleman's not very distant, to see Mr An- manner, he dispatched him to the inn where nesly, as his situation appeared to him to be ate his friend was with a message, importing an tended with some alarming circumstances. earnest desire to see him as soon as should be

His fears of danger were justified by the convenient. event. When these gentlemen saw Mr Annesly Rawlinson had already returned to the house, in the evening, his fever was increased. Next and was by this time stealing up stairs, to day, after a restless night, they found every bad watch the bed-side of his friend, for which task symptom confirmed ; they tried every method Mrs Wistanly's former unceasing solicitude had which medical skill could suggest for his relief, now rendered her unfit. He was met by Abrabut, during four successive days, their endea- ham with a gleam of joy on his countenance, vours proved ineffectual; and at the expiration from the happy change which he thought he of that time, they told his friend, Mrs Wistan- observed in his master; and was conducted to ly, who had enjoyed almost as little sleep as the the side of the bed by that faithful domestic, sick man whom she watched, that unless some who placed him in a chair, which the doctor had favourable crisis should happen soon, the worst just occupied by his patient. consequences were much to be feared.

Annesly stretched out his hands, and squeezed that of Rawlinson between them for some time

without speaking a word. “ I bless God," said CHAP. XXVIII.

he at last, " that he has sent me a comforter,

at a moment when I so much need one. You The arrival of Mr Rawlinson. Annesly's dis- must by this time have heard, my friend, of

course with him. That Gentleman's account of that latest and greatest of my family misforhis Friend's illness, and its consequences.

tunes, with which Providence has afflicted me.”

“You know, my dear sir,” answered RawAt this melancholy period it happened that linson, “ that no one would more sincerely feel Mr Rawlinson arrived, in pursuance of that for your sorrows than I; but at present it is a promise which Annesly had obtained from him, subject too tender for you.” at the time of his departure for London. so," replied his friend ; " it will ease my la

There needed not that warmth of heart we bouring heart to speak of it to my Rawlinson ; have formerly described in this gentleman, to but, in the first place, I have a little business, feel the accumulated distress to which his wor- which I will now dispatch. Here is a deed, thy friend was reduced. Nor was his astonish- making over all my effects to you, sir ; and at ment at the account which he received of Har- your death, to any one you shall name your riet's elopement less, than his pity for the suf- executor in that trust for my children—if I ferings it had brought upon her father. have any children remaining !- Into your hands

From the present situation of Annesly's fa- I deliver it with a peculiar satisfaction, and I mily, he did not choose to incommode them know there will not need the desire of a dying with

any trouble of provision for him. He took friend to add to your zeal for their service.up his quarters, therefore, at the only inn, a Why should that word startle you ? death is to paltry one indeed, which the village afforded, me a messenger of consolation !" He paused. and resolved to remain there till he saw what

Rawlinson put up the paper in silence; for his issue his friend's present illness should have, heart was too full to allow him the use of words and endeavour to administer some comfort, ei- for an answer. ther to the last moments of his life, or to that “ When I lost my son,” continued Annesly, affliction which his recovery could not remove. I suffered in silence; and though it preyed

In the evening of the day on which he arri- on me in secret, I bore up against the weight of ved, Annesly seemed to feel a sort of relief from my sorrow, that I might not weaken in myself the violence of his disease. He spoke with a that stay which Heaven had provided for my degree of coolness which he had never before Harriet.—She was then my only remaining been able to command ; and after having talked comfort, saved like some precious treasure from some little time with his physician, he told the shipwreck of my family; and I fondly hopAbraham, who seldom quitted his bed-side, ed, that my age might go down smoothly to its that he thought he had seen Mr Rawlinson en- rest, amidst the endearments of a father's care.

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I have now lived to see the last resting-place to get more perfect intelligence; his faithful which my soul could find in this world, laid Abraham met me at the door. Oh sir,' said waste and desolate !-yet to that Being, whose he, my poor master !'What is the matgoodness is infinite, as his ways are inscrutable, ter ?'— I fear, sir, he is not in his perfect let me bend in reverence ! I bless his name, that senses; for he talks more wildly than ever, and he has not yet taken from me that trust in Him, yet he is broad awake.'-He led me into the which to lose is the only irremediable calamity; room, I placed myself directly before him; but it is now indeed that I feel its efficacy most, his eye, though it was fixed on mine, did not when every ray of human comfort is extinguish- seem to acknowledge its object. There was a ed. As for me--my deliverance is at hand; I glazing on it that deadened its look. feel something here at my heart that tells me, “ He muttered something in a very low voice. I shall not have long to strive with insufferable -How does my friend ?' said I.--He suffer. affliction. My poor deluded daughter I com- ed me to take his hand, but answered nothing. mit to thee, Father of all ! by whom the wan.. -After listening some time, I could hear the derings of thy unhappy children are seen with name of Harriet. Do you want any thing, pity, and to whom their return cannot be too my dear sir ?' He moved his lips, but I heard late to be accepted! If my friend should live to not what he said.- I repeated my question; he see her look back with contrition towards that looked up piteously in my face, then turned his path from which she has strayed, I know his eye round as if he missed some object on which goodness will lead her steps to find it.-Shew it meant to rest.–He shivered, and caught hold her her father's grave ! yet spare her for his of Abraham's hand, who stood at the side of sake, who cannot then comfort or support her!" the bed opposite me. He looked round again,

The rest of this narration I will give the then uttered, with a feeble and broken voice, reader in Mr Rawlinson's own words, from a Where is my Harriet ? lay your hand on my letter of his I have now lying before me, of head—this hand is not my Harriet's—she is which I will transcribe the latter part, begin- dead, I know ;-You will not speak-my poor ning its recital at the close of this pathetic ad- child is dead ! Yet I dreamed she was alive, and dress of his friend.

had left me; left me to die alone! I have seen “As I had been told," says this gentleman, her weep at the death of a linnet! poor soul, " that he had not enjoyed one sound sleep since she was not made for this world—we shall meet his daughter went away, I left him now to come in heaven !-Bless her ! bless her!-there ! may pose himself to rest, desiring his servant to call you be as virtuous as your mother, and more me instantly if he observed any thing particular fortunate than your father has been !-My head about his master. He whispered me, that is strangely confused !-but tell me, when did when he sat up with him the night before, he she die? you should have waked me, that I could overhear him at times talk wildly, and might have prayed by her. Sweet innocence ! mutter to himself like one speaking in one's she had no crimes to confess ! I can speak but sleep; that then he would start, sigh deeply, ill, for my tongue sticks to my mouth.

—Yet and seem again to recollect himself. I went -oh!-most Merciful, strengthen and support" back to his master's bed-side, and begged him - He shivered again into thy hands ! —He to endeavour to calm his mind so much as not groaned, and died !" to prevent that repose which he stood so great- Sindall ! and ye who, like Sindall-but I canly in need of. I have prevailed on my physi- not speak !-speak for me their consciences. cian,' answered he, 'to give me an opiate for that purpose, and I think I now feel drowsy from its effects.' I wished him good-night. 'Good-night,'

CHAP. XXIX. said he, but give me your hand; it is perhaps , the last time I shall ever clasp it !' He lifted up What befel Harriet Annesly on her leaving her his eyes to heaven, holding my hand in his, then

Father. turned away his face, and laid his head upon his pillow. I could not lay mine to rest. Alas! said I am not in a disposition to stop in the midst Ī, that such should be the portion of virtue like of this part of my recital, solicitous to embelAnnesly's! yet to arraign the distribution of Pro- lish, or studious to arrange it. My readers shall vidence, had been to forget that lesson which the receive it simple, as becomes a tale of sorrow; best of men had just been teaching me;—but the and I flatter myself they are at this moment doubtings, the darkness of feeble man, still hung readier to feel than to judge it. about my heart.

They have seen Harriet Annesly, by the arti“When I sent in the morning, I was told that fice of Sindall, and the agency of Camplin, tempt. he was still asleep, but that his rest was obser- ed to leave the house of her father, in hopes of ved to be frequently disturbed by groans and meeting the man who had betrayed her, and of startings, and that he breathed much thicker receiving that only reparation for her injuries than he had ever done hitherto. I went myself which it was now in his power to make.

But Sir Thomas never entertained the most sion to do so. Accordingly, in little more than distant thought of that marriage, with the hopes an hour, during which the speed of their proof which he had deluded her. Yet, though he gress was nowise abated, they halted at the door was not subject to the internal principles of of a house, which Harriet, upon coming out of honour or morality, he was man of the world the chaise, immediately recollected to be that enough to know their value in the estimation of fatal one to which Sindall had before conveyed others. The virtues of Annesly had so much en- her. She felt, on entering it, a degree of hordeared him to every one within their reach, that ror, which the remembrance of that guilty night this outrage of Sindall's against him, under the she had before passed under its roof, could not disguise of sacred friendship, and regard, would fail to suggest ; and it was with difficulty she have given the interest and character of Sir dragged her trembling steps to a room above Thomas such a blow, as he could not easily stairs, whither the landlady, with a profusion of have recovered, nor conveniently borne. It is civility, conducted her. not therefore to be wondered at, that he wished “ Where is Sir Thomas Sindall ?" said she, for some expedient to conceal it from the eyes looking about with terror on the well-remem of the public.

bered objects around her. Camplin, shutting For this purpose he had formed a scheme, the door of the chamber, told her, with a look which all the knowledge he had of the delicacy of the utmost tenderness and respect, that Sir of Harriet's affection for him, did not prevent Thomas was not then in the house, but had dehis thinking practicable, -(for the female who sired him to deliver her a letter, which he now once falls from innocence, is held to be sunk put into her hands for her perusal. It containinto perpetual debasement ;) and that was, to ed what follows: provide a husband for her in the person of another. And for that husband he pitched on It is with inexpressible anguish I inform Camplin, with whose character he was too well my ever-dearest Harriet, of my inability to peracquainted, to doubt the bringing him over to form engagements, of which I acknowledge the any baseness which danger did not attend, and solemnity, and which necessity alone has power a liberal reward was to follow. Camplin, who to cancel. The cruelty of my grandfather is deaf at this time was in great want of money, and to all the remonstrances of my love ; and having had always an appetite for those pleasures which accidentally discovered my attachment for you, money alone can purchase, agreed to his propo- he insists upon my immediately setting out on sals; they settled the dowry of his future wife, my travels, a command, which, in my present and the scheme which he undertook to procure situation, I find myself obliged to comply with. her. Part of its execution I have already rela- I feel, with the most poignant sorrow and reted; I proceed to relate the rest.

morse, for that condition to which our ill-fated When they had been driven with all the fury love bas reduced the loveliest of her sex. I which Camplin had enjoined the postillions, for would therefore endeavour, if possible, to conabout eight or nine miles, they stopt at an inn, ceal the shame which the world arbitrarily afwhere they changed horses. Harriet expressed fixes to it. With this view I have laid aside all her surprise at their not having already reached selfish considerations so much, as to yield to the place where Sir Thomas waited them ; on the suit of Mr Camplin that hand, which I which Camplin told her, that it was not a great had once the happiness of expecting for myself. way off, but that the roads were very bad, and This step the exigency of your present circumthat he observed the horses to be exceedingly stances renders highly eligible, if your affecjaded.

tions can bend themselves to a man, of whose After having proceeded some miles farther, honour and good qualities I have had the strongon a road still more wild and less frequented, est proofs, and who has generosity enough to she repeated her wonder at the length of the impute no crime to that ardency of the noblest way; on which Camplin, entreating her pardon passion of the mind, which has subjected you to for being concerned in any how deceiving her, the obloquy of the undiscerning inultitude. As confessed that Sir Thomas was at a place much Mrs Camplin, you will possess the love and affarther from her father's than he had made her fection of that worthiest of my friends, together believe; which deceit he had begged of him with the warmest esteem and regard of your un(Camplín) to practise, that she might not be fortunate, but ever devoted, humble servant, alarmed at the distance, which was necessary,

Thomas SINDALL." he said, for that plan of secrecy Sir Thomas had formed for his marriage. Her fears were suffi. Camplin was about to offer his commentary ciently roused at this intelligence, but it was upon this letter ; but Harriet, whose spirits had now too late to retreat, however terrible it might just supported her to the end of it, lay now lifebe to go on.

less at his feet. After several successive faintSome time after, they stopt to breakfast, and ings, from which Camplin, the landlady, and changed horses again, 'Camplin informing her other assistants, with difficulty recovered her, a that it was the last time they should have occu- shower of tears came at last to her relief, and

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