A Few days after the arrival of the Moseleys at the lodge John drove his
sisters to the little village of L----, which at that time was thronged
with an unusual number of visiters. It had, among other fashionable
arrangements for the accommodation of its guests, one of those circulators
of good and evil, a public library. Books are, in a great measure, the
instruments of controlling the opinions of a nation like ours. They are an
engine, alike powerful to save or to destroy. It cannot be denied, that
our libraries contain as many volumes of the latter, as the former
description; for we rank amongst the latter that long catalogue of idle
productions, which, if they produce no other evil, lead to the misspending
of time, _our own_ perhaps included. But we cannot refrain expressing our
regret, that such formidable weapons in the cause of morality, should be
suffered to be wielded by any indifferent or mercenary dealer, who
undoubtedly will consult rather the public tastes than the private good:
the evil may be remediless, yet we love to express our sentiments, though
we should suggest nothing new or even profitable. Into one of these haunts
of the idle, then, John Moseley entered with a lovely sister leaning on
either arm. Books were the entertainers of Jane, and instructors of Emily.
Sir Edward was fond of reading of a certain sort--that which required no
great depth of thought, or labor of research; and, like most others who
are averse to contention, and disposed to be easily satisfied, the baronet
sometimes found he had harbored opinions on things not exactly
reconcileable with the truth, or even with each other. It is quite as
dangerous to give up your faculties to the guidance of the author you are
perusing, as it is unprofitable to be captiously scrutinizing every
syllable he may happen to advance; and Sir Edward was, if anything, a
little inclined to the dangerous propensity. Unpleasant, Sir Edward
Moseley never was. Lady Moseley very seldom took a book in her hand: her
opinions were established to her own satisfaction on all important points,
and on the minor ones, she made it a rule to coincide with the popular
feeling. Jane had a mind more active than her father, and more brilliant
than her mother; and if she had not imbibed injurious impressions from the
unlicensed and indiscriminate reading she practised, it was more owing to
the fortunate circumstance, that the baronet's library contained nothing
extremely offensive to a pure taste, nor dangerous to good morals, than to
any precaution of her parents against the deadly, the irretrievable injury
to be sustained from ungoverned liberty in this respect to a female mind.
On the other hand, Mrs. Wilson had inculcated the necessity of restraint,
in selecting the books for her perusal, so strenuously on her niece, that
what at first had been the effects of obedience and submission, had now
settled into taste and habit; and Emily seldom opened a book, unless in
search of information; or if it were the indulgence of a less commendable
spirit, it was an indulgence chastened by a taste and judgment that
lessened the danger, if it did not entirely remove it.
The room was filled with gentlemen and ladies; and while John was
exchanging his greetings with several of the neighboring gentry of his
acquaintance, his sisters were running nastily over a catalogue of the
books kept for circulation, as an elderly lady, of foreign accent and
dress, entered; and depositing a couple of religious works on the counter,
she inquired for the remainder of the set. The peculiarity of her idiom
and her proximity to the sisters caused them both to look up at the
moment, and, to the surprise of Jane, her sister uttered a slight
exclamation of pleasure. The foreigner was attracted by the sound, and
after a moment's hesitation, she respectfully curtsied. Emily, advancing,
kindly offered her hand, and the usual inquiries after each other's
welfare succeeded. To the questions asked after the friend of the matron
Emily learnt, with some surprise, and no less satisfaction, that she
resided in a retired cottage, about five miles from L----, where they had
been for the last six months, and where they expected to remain for some
time, "until she could prevail on Mrs. Fitzgerald to return to Spain; a
thing, now there was peace, of which she did not despair." After asking
leave to call on them in their retreat, and exchanging good wishes, the
Spanish lady withdrew, and, as Jane had made her selection, was followed
immediately by John Moseley and his sisters. Emily, in their walk home,
acquainted her brother that the companion of their Bath incognita had been
at the library, and that for the first time she had learnt that their
young acquaintance was, or had been, married, and her name. John listened
to his sister with the interest which the beautiful Spaniard had excited
at the time they first met, and laughingly told her he could not believe
their unknown friend had ever been a wife. To satisfy this doubt, and to
gratify a wish they both had to renew their acquaintance with the
foreigner, they agreed to drive to the cottage the following morning,
accompanied by Mrs. Wilson and Jane, if she would go; but the next day was
the one appointed by Egerton for his arrival at L----, and Jane, under a
pretence of writing letters, declined the excursion. She had carefully
examined the papers since his departure; had seen his name included in the
arrivals at London; and at a later day, had read an account of the review
by the commander-in-chief of the regiment to which he belonged. He had
never written to any of her friends; but, judging from her own feelings,
she did not in the least doubt he would be as punctual as love could make
him. Mrs. Wilson listened to her niece's account of the unexpected
interview in the library with pleasure, and cheerfully promised to
accompany them in their morning's excursion, as she had both a wish to
alleviate sorrow, and a desire to better understand the character of this
accidental acquaintance of Emily's.
Mr. Benfield and the baronet had a long conversation in relation to
Denbigh's fortune the morning after their arrival; and the old man was
loud in his expression of dissatisfaction at the youngster's pride. As the
baronet, however, in the fulness of his affection and simplicity, betrayed
to his uncle his expectation of a union between Denbigh and his daughter,
Mr. Benfield became contented with this reward; one fit, he thought, for
any services. On the whole, "it was best, as he was to marry Emmy, he
should sell out of the army; and as there would be an election soon, he
would bring him into parliament--yes--- yes--it did a man so much good to
sit one term in the parliament of this realm--to study human nature. All
his own knowledge in that way was raised on the foundations laid in the
House." To this Sir Edward cordially assented, and the gentlemen
separated, happy in their arrangements to advance the welfare of two
beings they so sincerely loved.
Although the care and wisdom of Mrs. Wilson had prohibited the admission
of any romantic or enthusiastic expectations of happiness into the
day-dreams of her charge, yet the buoyancy of health, of hope, of youth,
of innocence, had elevated Emily to a height of enjoyment hitherto unknown
to her usually placid and disciplined pleasures. Denbigh certainly
mingled in most of her thoughts, both of the past and the future, and she
stood on the threshold of that fantastic edifice in which Jane ordinarily
resided. Emily was in the situation perhaps the most dangerous to a young
female Christian: her heart, her affections, were given to a man, to
appearance, every way worthy of possessing them, it is true but she had
admitted a rival in her love to her Maker; and to keep those feelings
distinct, to bend the passions in due submission to the more powerful
considerations of endless duty, of unbounded gratitude, is one of the most
trying struggles of Christian fortitude. We are much more apt to forget
our God in prosperity than adversity. The weakness of human nature drives
us to seek assistance in distress; but vanity and worldly-mindedness often
induce us to imagine we control the happiness we only enjoy.
Sir Edward and Lady Moseley could see nothing in the prospect of the
future but lives of peace and contentment for their children. Clara was
happily settled, and her sisters were on the eve of making connexions with
men of family, condition, and certain character. What more could be done
for them? They must, like other people, take their chances in the lottery
of life; they could only hope and pray for their prosperity, and this they
did with great sincerity. Not so Mrs. Wilson: she had guarded the
invaluable charge intrusted to her keeping with too much assiduity, too
keen an interest, too just a sense of the awful responsibility she had
undertaken, to desert her post at the moment watchfulness was most
required. By a temperate, but firm and well-chosen conversation she kept
alive the sense of her real condition in her niece, and labored hard to
prevent the blandishments of life from supplanting the lively hope of
enjoying another existence. She endeavored, by her pious example, her
prayers, and her Judicious allusions, to keep the passion of love in the
breast of Emily secondary to the more important object of her creation;
and, by the aid of a kind and Almighty Providence, her labors, though
arduous, were crowned with success.
As the family were seated round the table after dinner, on the day of
their walk to the library, John Moseley, awakening from a reverie,
exclaimed suddenly,
"Which do you think the handsomest, Emily, Grace Chatterton or Miss
Fitzgerald?"
Emily laughed, as she answered, "Grace, certainly; do you not think so,
brother?"
"Yes, on the whole; but don't you think Grace looks like her mother at
times?"
"Oh no, she is the image of Chatterton."
"She is very like yourself, Emmy dear," said Mr. Benfield, who was
listening to their conversation.
"Me, dear uncle; I have never heard it remarked before."
"Yes, yes, she is as much like you as she can stare. I never saw as great
a resemblance, excepting between you and Lady Juliana--Lady Juliana, Emmy,
was a beauty in her day; very like her uncle, old Admiral Griffin--you
can't remember the admiral--he lost an eye in a battle with the Dutch, and
part of his cheek in a frigate, when a young man fighting the Dons. Oh, he
was a pleasant old gentleman; many a guinea has he given me when I was a
boy at school."
"And he looked like Grace Chatterton, uncle, did he?" asked John,
innocently.
"No, sir, he did not; who said he looked like Grace Chatterton,
jackanapes?"
"Why, I thought you made it out, sir: but perhaps it was the description
that deceived me--his eye and cheek, uncle."
"Did Lord Gosford leave children, uncle?" inquired Emily, throwing a look
of reproach at John.
"No, Emmy dear; his only child, a son, died at school. I shall never
forget the grief of poor Lady Juliana. She postponed a visit to Bath three
weeks on account of it. A gentleman who was paying his addresses to her at
the time, offered then, and was refused--indeed, her self-denial raised
such an admiration of her in the men, that immediately after the death of
young Lord Dayton, no less than seven gentlemen offered, and were refused
in one week. I heard Lady Juliana say, that what between lawyers and
suitors, she had not a moment's peace."
"Lawyers?" cried Sir Edward: "what had she to do with lawyers?"
"Why, Sir Edward, six thousand a year fell to her by the death of her
nephew; and there were trustees and deeds to be made out--poor young
woman, she was so affected, Emmy, I don't think she went out for a
week--all the time at home reading papers, and attending to her important
concerns. Oh! she was a woman of taste; her mourning, and liveries, and
new carriage, were more admired than those of any one about the court.
Yes, yes, the title is extinct; I know of none of the name now. The Earl
did not survive his loss but six years, and the countess died
broken-hearted, about a twelvemonth before him."
"And Lady Juliana, uncle," inquired John, "what became of her, did she
marry?"
The old man helped himself to a glass of wine, and looked over his
shoulder to see if Peter was at hand. Peter, who had been originally
butler, and had made it a condition of his preferment, that whenever there
was company, he should be allowed to preside at the sideboard, was now at
his station. Mr. Benfield, seeing his old friend near him, ventured to
talk on a subject he seldom trusted himself with in company.
"Why, yes--yes--she _did_ marry, it's true, although she did tell me she
intended to die a maid; but--hem--I suppose--hem--it was compassion for
the old viscount, who often said he could not live without her; and then
it gave her the power of doing so much good, a jointure of five thousand a
year added to her own income: yet--hem--I do confess I did not think she
would have chosen such an old and infirm man--- but, Peter, give me a
glass of claret." Peter handed the claret, and the old man
proceeded:--"They say he was very cross to her, and that, no doubt, must
have made her unhappy, she was so very tender-hearted."
How much longer the old gentleman would have continued in this strain, it
is impossible to say; but he was interrupted by the opening of the parlor
door, and the sudden appearance on its threshold of Denbigh. Every
countenance glowed with pleasure at this unexpected return of their
favorite; and but for the prudent caution of Mrs. Wilson, in handing a
glass of water to her niece, the surprise might have proved too much for
her. The salutations of Denbigh were returned by the different members of
the family with a cordiality that must have told him how much he was
valued by all its branches; and after briefly informing them that his
review was over, and that he had thrown himself into a chaise and
travelled post until he had rejoined them, he took his seat by Mr.
Benfield, who received him with a marked preference, exceeding that which
he had shown to any man who had ever entered his doors, Lord Gosford
himself not excepted. Peter removed from his station behind his master's
chair to one where he could face the new comer; and after wiping his eyes
until they filled so rapidly with water, that at last he was noticed by
the delighted John to put on the identical goggles which his care had
provided for Denbigh in his illness. His laugh drew the attention of the
rest to the honest steward, and when Denbigh was told this was Mr.
Benfield's ambassador to the hall, he rose from his chair, and taking the
old man by the hand, kindly thanked him for his thoughtful consideration
for his weak eyes.
Peter took the offered hand in both his own, and after making one or two
unsuccessful efforts to speak, he uttered, "Thank you, thank you; may
Heaven bless you," and burst into tears. This stopped the laugh, and John
followed the steward from the room, while his master exclaimed, wiping his
eyes, "Kind and condescending; just such another as my old friend, the
Earl of Gosford."