little friend with small but elegant presents, and entertain her by a display of foreign rarities and curiosities, many of them of considerable value. Sometimes the time was passed in a way much less agreeable to Margaret, by her receiving lessons from Pauline in the use of the needle. But, although her preceptress practised these arts with a dexterity then only known in foreign convents, the pupil proved so incorrigibly idle and awkward, that the task of needle-work was at length given up, and lessons of music substituted in their stead. Here also Pauline was excellently qualified as an instructress, and Margaret, more successful in a science for which Nature had gifted her, made proficiency both in vocal and instrumental music. These lessons passed in presence of the Lady Hermione, to whom they seemed to give pleasure. She sometimes added her own voice to the performance, in a pure, clear stream of liquid melody; but this was only when the music was of a devotional cast. As Margaret became older, her communications with the recluse assumed a different character. She was allowed, if not encouraged, to tell whatever she had remarked out of doors, and the Lady Hermione, while she remarked the quick, sharp, and retentive powers of observation possessed by her young friend, often found sufficient reason to caution her against rashness in forming opinions, and giddy petulance in expressing them. The habitual awe with which she regarded this singular personage, induced Mistress Margaret, though by no means delighting in contradiction or reproof, to listen with patience to her admonitions, and to make full allowance for the good intentions of the patroness by whom they were bestowed; although in her heart she could hardly conceive how Madame Hermione, who never stirred from the Foljambe apartments, should think of teaching knowledge of the world to one who walked twice a-week between Temple-Bar and Lombard Street, besides parading in the Park every Sunday that proved to be fair weather. Indeed, pretty Mistress Margaret was so little inclined to endure such remonstrances, that her intercourse with the inhabitants of the Foljambe apartments would have probably slackened as her circle of acquaintance increased in the external world, had she not, on the one hand, entertained an habitual reverence for her monitress, of which she could not divest herself, and been flattered, on the other, by being, to a certain degree, the depositary of a confidence for which others thirsted in vain. Besides, although the conversation of Hermione was uniformly serious, it was not in general either formal or severe; nor was the lady offended by flights of levity which Mistress Margaret sometimes ventured on in her presence, even when they were such as made Monna Paula cast her eyes upwards, and sigh with that compassion which a devotee extends towards the votaries of a trivial and profane world. Thus, upon the whole, the little maiden was disposed to submit, though not without some wincing, to the grave admonitions of the Lady Hermione; and the rather that the mystery annexed to the person of her monitress was in her mind early associated with a vague idea of wealth and importance, which had been rather confirmed than lessened by many accidental circumstances which she had noticed since she was more capable of observation. CHAPTER XIX. By this good light, a wench of matchless mettle! This were a leaguer-lass to love a soldier, To bind his wounds, and kiss his bloody brow, And sing a roundel as she help'd to arm him, Though the rough foeman's drums were beat so nigh, They seem'd to bear the burden.- Old Play. WHEN Mistress Margaret entered the Foljambe apartment, she found the inmates employed in their usual manner; the lady in reading, and her attendant in embroidering a large piece of tapestry, which had occupied her ever since Margaret had been first admitted within these secluded chambers. Hermione nodded kindly to her visiter, but did not speak; and Margaret, accustomed to this reception, and in the present case not sorry for it, as it gave her an interval to collect her thoughts, stooped over Monna Paula's frame, and observed, in a half whisper, "You were just so far as that rose, Monna, when I first saw you see, there is the mark where I had the bad luck to spoil the flower in trying to catch the stitch-I was little above fifteen then. These flowers make me an old woman, Monna Paula." "I wish they could make you a wise one, my child," answered Monna Paula, in whose esteem pretty Mistress Margaret did not stand quite so high as in that of her patroness; partly owing to her natu ral austerity, which was something intolerant of youth and gayety, and partly to the jealousy with which a favourite domestic regards any one whom she considers as a sort of rival in the affections of her mistress. What is it you say to Monna, little one?" asked the lady. "Nothing, madam," replied Mistress Margaret, "but that I have seen the real flowers blossom three times over since I first saw Monna Paula working in her canvass garden, and her violets have not budded yet." "True, lady-bird." replied Hermione; "but the buds that are longest in blossoming will last the longest in flower. You have seen them in the garden bloom thrice, but you have seen them fade thrice also; now, Monna Paula's will remain in blow for ever-they will fear neither frost nor tempest." "True, madam," answered Mistress Margaret ; "but neither have they life or odour." "That, little one," replied the recluse, " is to compare a life agitated by hope and fear, and checkered with success and disappointment, and fevered by the effects of love and hatred, a life of passion and of feeling, saddened and shortened by its exhausting alternations, to a calm and tranquil existence, animated but by a sense of duties, and only employed, during its smooth and quiet course, in the unwearied discharge of them. Is that the moral of your answer?" "I do not know, madam," answered Mistress Margaret: "but of all birds in the air, I would rather be the lark, that sings while he is drifting down the summer breeze, than the weathercock that sticks fast yonder upon his iron perch, and just moves so much as to discharge his duty, and tell us which way the wind blows." Metaphors are no arguments, my pretty maiden," said the Lady Hermione, smiling. "I am sorry for that, madam," answered Margaret; "for they are such a pretty indirect way of telling one's mind when it differs from one's betters --besides, on this subject there is no end of them, and they are so civil and becoming withal." "Indeed?" replied the lady; "let me hear some of them, I pray you." It frequently happens, that the counsel which we reckon intrusive when offered to us unasked, becomes precious in our eyes when the pressure of difficulties renders us more diffident of our own judgment than we are apt to find ourselves in the hours of ease and indifference; and this is more especially the case if we suppose that our adviser may also possess power and inclination to back his counsel with effectual as- "It would be, for example, very bold in me," said sistance. Mistress Margaret was now in that situa- Margaret, to say to your ladyship, that, rather than tion. She was, or believed herself to be, in a condi- live a quiet life, I would like a little variety of hope tion where both advice and assistance might be ne- and fear, and liking and disliking-and-and-and cessary; and it was therefore, after an anxious and the other sort of feelings which your ladyship is sleepless night, that she resolved to have recourse to pleased to speak of; but I may say freely, and withthe Lady Hermione, who she knew would readily af-out blame, that I like a butterfly better than a beetle, ford her the one, and, as she hoped, might also possess means of giving her the other. The conversation between them will best explain the purport of the visit. VOL. IV. J or a trembling aspen better than a grim Scots fir, that never wags a leaf-or that of all the wood, brass, and wire that ever my father's fingers put together, I do hate and detest a certain huge old clock of the German fashion, that rings hours and half hours, and quarters and half quarters, as if it were of such consequence that the world should know it was wound up and going. Now, dearest lady, I wish you would only compare that clumsy, clanging, Dutch-looking piece of lumber, with the beautiful timepiece that Master Heriot caused my father to make for your ladyship, which uses to play a hundred merry tunes, and turns out, when it strikes the hour, a whole band of morrice-dancers, to trip the hays to the measure." And which of these timepieces goes the truest, Margaret?" said the lady. "I must confess the old Dutchman has the advantage in that" said Margaret. "I fancy you are right, madam, and that comparisons are no arguments; at least mine has not brought me through.' Upon my word, maiden Margaret," said the lady, smiling, "you have been of late thinking very much of these matters." "Perhaps too much, madam," said Margaret, so low as only to be heard by the lady, behind the back of whose chair she had now placed herself. The words were spoken very gravely, and accompanied by a half sigh, which did not escape the attention of her to whom they were addressed. The Lady Hermione turned immediately round, and looked earnestly at Margaret, then paused for a moment, and, finally, commanded Monna Paula to carry her frame and embroidery into the ante-chamber. When they were left alone, she desired her young friend to come from behind the chair, on the back of which she still rested, and sit down beside her upon a stool. "I will remain thus, madam, under your favour," answered Margaret, without changing her posture; "I would rather you heard me without seeing me.' "In God's name, maiden," returned her patroness, "what is it you can have to say, that may not be uttered face to face, to so true a friend as I am?" Without making any direct answer, Margaret only replied, "You were right, dearest lady, when you said, I had suffered my feelings too much to engross me of late. I have done very wrong, and you will be angry with me so will my godfather, but I cannot help it-he must be rescued." He?" repeated the lady, with emphasis; "that brief little word does, indeed, so far explain your mystery; but come from behind the chair, you silly popinjay! I will wager you have suffered yonder gay young apprentice to sit too near your heart. I have not heard you mention young Vincent for many a day-perhaps he has not been out of mouth and out of mind both. Have you been so foolish as to let nim speak to you seriously?—I am told he is a bold youth." "Not bold enough to say any thing that could displease me, madam," said Margaret. "Perhaps, then, you were not displeased," said the lady; "or perhaps he has not spoken, which would be wiser and better. Be open-hearted, my love-your godfather will soon return, and we will take him into our consultations. If the young man is industrious, and come of honest parentage, his poverty may be no such insurmountable obstacle. But you are both of you very young, Margaret-I know your godfather will expect, that the youth shall first serve out his apprenticeship. Margaret had hitherto suffered the lady to proceed, under the mistaken impression which she had adopted, simply because she could not tell how to interrupt her; but pure despite at hearing her last words gave her boldness at length to say, "I crave your pardon, madam; but neither the youth you mention, nor any apprentice or master within the city of London" "Margaret," said the lady, in reply, "the contemptuous tone with which you mention those of your own class, (many hundreds if not thousands of whom are in all respects better than yourself, and would greatly honour you by thinking of you,) is, methinks, no warrant for the wisdom of your choicefor a choice, it seems, there is. Who is it, maiden, to whom you have thus rashly attached yourself?rashly, I fear it must be." "It is the young Scottish Lord Glenvarloch, ma. dam," answered Margaret, in a low and modest tone, but sufficiently firm, considering the subject. "The young Lord of Glenvarloch!" repeated the lady, in great surprise-"Maiden, you are distracted in your wits." "I knew you would say so, madam," answered Margaret. "It is what another person has already told me-it is, perhaps, what all the world would tell me it is what I am sometimes disposed to tell myself. But look at me, madam, for I will now come before you, and tell me if there is madness or distraction in my look and word, when I repeat to you again, that I have fixed my affections on this young nobleman. "If there is not madness in your look or word, maiden, there is infinite folly in what you say,' answered the Lady Hermione, sharply. "When did you ever hear that misplaced love brought any thing but wretchedness? Seek a match among your equals, Margaret, and escape the countless kinds of risk and misery that must attend an affection beyond your degree.-Why do you smile, maiden? Is there aught to cause scorn in what I say?" Surely no, madam," answered Margaret. "I only smiled to think how it should happen, that, while rank made such a wide difference between creatures formed from the same clay, the wit of the vulgar should, nevertheless, jump so exactly the same length with that of the accomplished and the exalted. It is but the variation of the phrase which divides them. Dame Ursley told me the very same thing which your ladyship has but now uttered; only you, madam, talk of countless misery, and Dame Ursley spoke of the gallows, and Mistress Turner, who was hanged upon it." "Indeed?" answered the Lady Hermione; "and who may Dame Ursley, be, that your wise choice has associated with me in the difficult task of advising a fool?" "The barber's wife at next door, madam," answered Margaret, with feigned simplicity, but far from being sorry at heart, that she had found an indirect mode of mortifying her monitress. She is the wisest woman that I know, next to your ladyship." A proper confidant," said the lady, "and chosen with the same delicate sense of what is due to yourself and others!-But what ails you, maiden-where are you going?" "Only to ask Dame Ursley's advice," said Margaret, as if about to depart; "for I see your ladyship is too angry to give me any, and the emergency is pressing.' What emergency, thou simple one?" said the lady, in a kinder tone.-"Sit down, maiden, and tell me your tale. It is true you are a fool, and a pettish fool to boot; but then you are a child-an amiable child, with all your self-willed folly, and we must help you, if we can.-Sit down, I say, as you are desired, and you will find me a safer and wiser counsellor than the barber-woman. And tell me how you come to suppose, that you have fixed your heart unalterably upon a man whom you have seen, as I think, but once." "I have seen him oftener," said the damsel, looking down; "but I have only spoken to him once. I should have been able to get that once out of my head, though the impression was so deep, that I could even now repeat every trifling word he said; but other things have since riveted it in my bosom for ever." "Maiden," replied the lady, "for ever is the word which comes most lightly on the lips in such circumstances, but which, not the less, is almost the last that we should use. The fashion of this world, its passions, its joys, and its sorrows, pass away like the winged breeze-there is nought for ever, but that which belongs to the world beyond the grave." "You have corrected me justly, madam," said Margaret, calmly; "I ought only to have spoken of my present state of mind, as what will last me for my lifetime, which unquestionably may be but short." "And what is there in this Scottish lord that can rivet what concerns him so closely in your fancy?" said the lady. "I admit him a personable man, for I have seen him; and I will suppose him courteous and agreeable. But what are his accomplishments besides, for these surely are not uncommon attributes ?" He is unfortunate, madam-most unfortunate and surrounded by snares of different kinds, ingeniously contrived to ruin his character, destroy his estate, and, perhaps, to reach even his life. These schemes have been devised by avarice originally, but they are now followed close by vindictive ambition, animated, I think, by the absolute and concentrated spirit of malice; for the Lord Dalgarno" Here, Monna Paula-Monna Paula!" exclaimed the Lady Hermione, interrupting her young friend's narrative. "She hears me not," she answered, rising and going out, "I must seek her-I will return instantly." She returned accordingly very soon after. "You mentioned a name which I thought was familiar to me," she said; "but Monna Paula has put me right. I know nothing of your lord-how was it you named him?" "Lord Dalgarno," said Margaret ;-" the wickedest man who lives. Under pretence of friendship, he introduced the Lord Glenvarloch to a gamblinghouse with the purpose of engaging him in deep play; but he with whom the perfidious traitor had to deal, was too virtuous, moderate, and cautious, to be caught in a snare so open. What did they next, but turn his own moderation against him, and persuade others that, because he would not become the prey of wolves, he herded with them for a share of their booty! And, while this base Lord Dalgarno was thus undermining his unsuspecting countryman, he took every measure to keep him surrounded by creatures of his own, to prevent him from attending Court, and mixing with those of his proper rank. Since the Gunpowder Treason, there never was a conspiracy more deeply laid, more basely and more deliberately pursued." The lady smiled sadly at Margaret's vehemence, but sighed the next moment, while she told her young friend how little she knew the world she was about to live in, since she testified so much surprise at finding it full of villany. But by what means," she added, "could you, maiden, become possessed of the secret views of a man so cautious as Lord Dalgarno-as villains in general are?" "Permit me to be silent on that subject," said the maiden; "I could not tell you without betraying others-let it suffice that my tidings are as certain as the means by which I acquired them are secret and sure. But I must not tell them even to you." ་་ to "You are too bold, Margaret," said the lady, traffic in such matters at your early age. It is not only dangerous, but even unbecoming and unmaidenly." "I knew you would say that also," said Margaret, with more meekness and patience than she usually showed on receiving reproof; "but, God knows, my heart acquits me of every other feeling save that of the wish to assist this most innocent and betrayed man.-I contrived to send him warning of his friend's falsehood;-alas! my care has only hastened his utter ruin, unless speedy aid be found. He charged his false friend with treachery, and drew on him in the Park, and is now liable to the fatal penalty due for breach of privilege of the King's palace." "This is indeed an extraordinary tale," said Hermione; "is Lord Glenvarloch then in prison ?" "You have means," said Margaret, eagerly; "you have those means, unless I mistake greatly, which can do any thing-can do every thing, in this city, in this world-you have wealth, and the command of a small portion of it will enable me to extricate him from his present danger. He will be enabled and directed how to make his escape and I" she paused. "Will accompany him, doubtless, and reap the fruits of your sage exertions in his behalf?" said the Lady Hermione, ironically. 64 May Heaven forgive you the unjust thought, lady," answered Margaret. "I will never see him more-but I shall have saved him, and the thought will make me happy." A cold conclusion to so bold and warm a flame," said the lady, with a smile which seemed to intimate incredulity. "It is, however, the only one which I expect, madam-I could almost say the only one which I wish-I am sure I will use no efforts to bring about any other; if I am bold in his cause, I am timorous enough in my own. During our only interview I was unable to speak a word to him. He knows not the sound of my voice and all that I have risked, and must yet risk, I am doing for one, who, were he asked the question, would say he has long since forgotten that he ever saw, spoke to, or sat beside, a creature of so little signification as I am." "This is a strange and unreasonable indulgence of a passion equally fanciful and dangerous," said the Lady Hermione. "You will not assist me, then?" said Margaret; "have good-day then, madam-my secret, I trust, is safe in such honourable keeping.' "Tarry yet a little," said the lady, "and tell me what resource you have to assist this youth, if you were supplied with money to put it in motion." "It is superfluous to ask me the question, madam," answered Margaret, "unless you purpose to assist me; and, if you do so purpose, it is still superfluous. You could not understand the means I must use, and time is too brief to explain." "But have you in reality such means?" said the lady. "I have, with the command of a moderate sum," answered Margaret Ramsay, "the power of baffling all his enemies-of eluding the passion of the irritated King-the colder but more determined displeasure of the Prince-the vindictive spirit of Buckingham, so hastily directed against whomsoever crosses the path of his ambition-the cold concentrated malice of Lord Dalgarno-all, I can baffle them all!" But is this to be done without your own personal risk, Margaret?" replied the lady; "for, be your purpose what it will, you are not to peril your own reputation or person, in the romantic attempt of serving another; and I, maiden, am answerable to your godfather,-to your benefactor, and my own,-not to aid you in any dangerous or unworthy enterprise.", "Depend upon my word,-my oath,-dearest lady," replied the supplicant, "that I will act by the agency of others, and do not myself design to mingle in any enterprise in which my appearance might be either perilous or unwomanly." "I know not what to do," said the Lady Hermione; "it is perhaps incautious and inconsiderate in me to aid so wild a project; yet the end seems honourable, if the means be sure what is the penalty if he fall into their power?" Alas, alas! the loss of his right hand!" replied Margaret, her voice almost stifled with sobs. No, madam, thank God, but in the Sanctuary at Whitefriars-it is matter of doubt whether it will protect him in such a case they speak of a warrant "Are the laws of England so cruel? Then there from the Lord Chief Justice-A gentleman of the is mercy in Heaven alone," said the lady, "since, even Temple has been arrested, and is in trouble, for hav-in this free land, men are wolves to each other.-Coming assisted him in his flight.-Even his taking temporary refuge in that base place, though from extreme necessity, will be used to the farther defaming him. All this I know, and yet I cannot rescue him-cannot rescue him save by your means.' By my means, maiden?" said the lady-" you are beside yourself!-What means can I possess in this secluded situation, of assisting this unfortunate nobleman ?" pose yourself, Margaret, and tell me what money is necessary to secure Lord Glenvarloch's escape." Two hundred pieces," replied Margaret; "I would speak to you of restoring them--and I must one day have the power-only that I know-that is, I think-your ladyship is indifferent on that score. "Not a word more of it," said the lady; "call Monna Paula hither." CHAPTER XX. Credit me, friend, it hath been ever thus, Since the ark rested on Mount Ararat. By the time that Margaret returned with Monna Paula, the Lady Hermione was rising from the table at which she had been engaged in writing something on a small slip of paper, which she gave to her attendant. Monna Paula," she said, "carry this paper to Roberts the cash-keeper; let him give you the money mentioned in the note, and bring it hither presently." Monna Paula left the room, and her mistress proceeded. "I do not know," she said, "Margaret, if I have done, and am doing well, in this affair. My life has been one of strange seclusion, and I am totally unacquainted with the practical ways of this world-an ignorance which I know cannot be remedied by mere reading. I fear I am doing wrong to you, and perhaps to the laws of the country which affords me refuge, by thus indulging you; and yet there is something in my heart which cannot resist your entreaties." "Ö, listen to it-listen to it, dear, generous lady!" said Margaret, throwing herself on her knees and grasping those of her benefactress, and looking in that attitude like a beautiful mortal in the act of supplicating her tutelary angel; "the laws of men are but the injunctions of mortality, but what the heart prompts is the echo of the voice from Heaven within us." "Rise, rise, maiden," said Hermione; "you affect me more than I thought I could have been moved by aught that should approach me. Rise and tell me whence it comes, that, in so short a time, your thoughts, your looks, your speech, and even your slightest actions, are changed from those of a capricious and fanciful girl, to all this energy and impassioned eloquence of word and action ?" "I am sure I know not, dearest lady," said Margaret, looking down; "but I suppose that, when I was a trifler, I was only thinking of trifles. What I now reflect is deep and serious, and I am thankful if my speech and manner bear reasonable proportion to my thoughts." "It must be so," said the lady; "yet the change seems a rapid and strange one. It seems to be as if a childish girl had at once shot up into deep-thinking and impassioned woman, ready to make exertions alike, and sacrifices, with all that vain devotion to a favourite object of affection, which is often so basely rewarded." The Lady Hermione sighed bitterly, and Monna Paula entered ere the conversation proceeded farther. She spoke to her mistress in the foreign language in which they frequently conversed, but which was unknown to Margaret. "We must have patience for a time," said the lady to her visiter; "the cash-keeper is abroad on some business, but he is expected home in the course of half an hour." Margaret wrung her hands in vexation and impatience. "Minutes are precious," continued the lady; "that I am well aware of; and we will at least suffer none of them to escape us. Monna Paula shall remain below and transact our business, the very instant that Roberts returns home." She spoke to her attendant accordingly, who again left the room. "You are very kind, madam-very good," said the poor little Margaret, while the anxious trembling of her lip and of her hand showed all that sickening agitation of the heart which arises from hope deferred. "Be patient, Margaret, and collect yourself," said the lady; you may, you must, have much to do to carry through this your bold purpose-reserve your spirits, which you may need so much-be patient-it is the only remedy against the evils of life." "Yes, madam," said Margaret, wiping her eyes, and endeavouring in vain to suppress the natural im patience of her temper,-"I have heard so-very often indeed; and I dare say I have myself, Heaven forgive me, said so to people in perplexity and affliction; but it was before I had suffered perplexity and vexation myself, and I am sure I will never preach patience to any human being again, now that I know how much the medicine goes against the stomach." You will think better of it, maiden," said the Lady Hermione; "I also, when I first felt distress, thought they did me wrong who spoke to me of patience; but my sorrows have been repeated and continued till I have been taught to cling to it as the best, and-religious duties excepted of which, indeed, patience forms a part-the only elevation which life can afford them." 66 Margaret, who neither wanted sense nor feeling, wiped her tears hastily, and asked her patroness's forgiveness for her petulance. "I might have thought"-she said, "I ought to have reflected, that even from the manner of your life, madam, it is plain you must have suffered sorrow; and yet, God knows, the patience which I have ever seen you display, well entitles you to recommend your own example to others." The lady was silent for a moment, and then replied Margaret, I am about to repose a high confidence in you. You are no longer a child, but a thinking and a feeling woman. You have told me as much of your secret as you dared-I will let you know as much of mine as I may venture to tell. You will ask me, perhaps, why, at a moment when your own mind is agitated, I should force upon you the consideration of my sorrows? and I answer, that I cannot withstand the impulse which now induces me to do so. Perhaps from having witnessed, for the first time these three years, the natural effects of human passion, my own sorrows have been awakened, and are for the moment to big for my own bosom-perhaps I may hope that you, who seem driving full sail on the very rock on which I was wrecked for ever, will take warning by the tale I have to tell. Enough, if you are willing to listen, I am willing to tell you who the melancholy inhabitant of the Foljambe apartments really is, and why she resides here. It will serve, at least, to while away the time until Monna Paula shall bring us the reply from Roberts." At any other moment of her life, Margaret Ramsay would have heard with undivided interest a communication so flattering in itself, and referring to a subject upon which the general curiosity had been so strongly excited. And even at this agitating moment, although she ceased not to listen with an anxious ear and throbbing heart for the sound of Monna Paula's returning footsteps, she nevertheless, as gratitude and policy, as well as a portion of curiosity dictated, composed herself, in appearance at least, to the strictest attention to the Lady Hermione, and thanked her with humility for the high confidence she was pleased to repose in her. The Lady Hermione, with the same calmness which always attended her speech and actions, thus recounted her story to her young friend: My father," she said, was a merchant, but he was of a city whose merchants are princes. I am the daughter of a noble house in Genoa, whose name stood as high in honour and in antiquity, as any incribed in the Golden Register of that, famous aristocracy. "My mother was a noble Scottishwoman. She was descended-do not start-and not remotely descended, of the house of Glenvarloch-no wonder that I was easily led to take concern in the misfortunes of this young lord. He is my near relation, and my mother, who was more than sufficiently proud of her descent, early taught me to take an interest in the name. My maternal grandfather, a cadet of that house 04 Glenvarloch, had followed the fortunes of an unhappy fugitive, Francis Earl of Bothwell, who, after showing his miseries in many a foreign court, at length settled in Spain upon a miserable pension, which he earned by conforming to the Catholic faith. Ralph Olifaunt, my grandfather, separated from him in disgust, and settled at Barcelona, where, by the friendship of the THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. governor, his heresy, as it was termed, was connived | his fittest name, spoke of love to me, and I listened- Could I suspect his sincerity? If he was wealthy, an opulent heiress. It is true, that he neither knew noble, and long-descended, I also was a noble and the extent of my father's wealth, nor did I communicate to him (I do not even remember if I myself knew it at the time) the important circumstance, that the greater part of that wealth was beyond the grasp of arbitrary power, and not subject to the precarious award of arbitrary judges. My lover might think, perhaps, as my mother was desirous the world at large should believe, that almost our whole fortune depended on the precarious suit which we had come tenanced out of policy, being well aware that a knowto Madrid to prosecute a belief which she had coun"But when, unhappily, my father was attacked, ledge of my father's having remitted such a large part while yet in the prime of life, by a slow wasting dis- of his fortune to England, would in no shape aid the ease, which he felt to be incurable, he foresaw the recovery of farther sums in the Spanish courts. Yet, hazard to which his widow and orphan might be ex- with no more extensive views of my fortune than were posed, after he was no more, in a country so bigoted possessed by the public, I believe that he, of whom I to Catholicism as Spain. He made it his business, am speaking, was at first sincere in his pretensions. during the two last years of his life, to realize and to He had himself interest sufficient to have obtained a remit to England a large part of his fortune, which, decision in our favour in the courts, and my fortune, by the faith and honour of his correspondent, the ex- reckoning only what was in Spain, would then have cellent man under whose roof I now reside, was em- been no inconsiderable sum. To be brief, whatever ployed to great advantage. Had my father lived to might be his motives or temptation for so far commitcomplete his purpose, by withdrawing his whole for- ting himself, he applied to my mother for my hand, tane from commerce, he himself would have accom-with my consent and approval. My mother's judg panied us to England, and would have beheld us settled in peace and honour before his death. But Heaven had ordained it otherwise. He died, leaving several sums engaged in the hands of his Spanish debtors; and, in particular, he had made a large and extensive consignment to a certain wealthy society of merchants at Madrid, who showed no willingness after his death to account for the proceeds. Would to God we had left these covetous and wicked men in possession of their booty, for such they seemed to hold the property of their deceased correspondent and friend! We had enough for comfort, and even splendour, already secured in England; but friends exclaimed upon the folly of permitting these unprincipled men to plunder us of our rightful property. The sum itself was large, and the claim having been made, my mother thought that my father's memory was interested in its being enforced, especially as the defences set up for the mercantile society went, in some degree, to impeach the fairness of his transactions. "We went therefore to Madrid. I was then, my "Our residence at the Spanish metropolis drew on So far our cases are nearly parallel; but, may Heaven forbid that the parallel should become complete! This man, so noble, so fairly formed, so gifted, and so brave-this villain, for that, Margaret, was ment had become weaker, but her passions had be- "My lover retired in passion; and I remained to "While I was in this humour, my lover sought a renewal of our intercourse. We met repeatedly in the house of the lady whom I have mentioned, and who, in levity, or in the spirit of intrigue, countenanced our secret correspondence. At length we were secretly married-so far did my blinded passion hurry me. My lover had secured the assistance of a clergyman of the English church. Monna Paula, who had been my attendant from infancy, was one witness of our union. Let me do the faithful creature justiceShe conjured me to suspend my purpose till my mother's death should permit us to celebrate our mar riage openly; but the entreaties of my lover, and my own wayward passion, prevailed over her remonstrances. The lady I have spoken of was another witness, but whether she was in full possession of my bridegroom's secret, I had never the means to learn. But the shelter of her name and roof afforded us the means of frequently meeting, and the love of my husband seemed as sincere and as unbounded as my own. "He was eager, he said, to gratify his pride, by introducing me to one or two of his noble English friends. This could not be done at Lady D's; but by his command, which I was now entitled to consider as my law, I contrived twice to visit him at his own hotel, accompanied only by Monna Paula. There was a very small party, of two ladies and two gentlemen. There was music, mirth, and dancing. |