Read Ebook: A Practical Directory for Young Christian Females Being a Series of Letters from a Brother to a Younger Sister by Newcomb Harvey

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 449 lines and 96334 words, and 9 pages

It is not my fault, Philip calmly replied; for all the world knows me to be a man of peace and quiet; but as to healing breaches in the manner you prescribe, give me leave to observe, Sir David, that it is a very early day for me to be thinking of a second wife before I have yet put on mourning for my first.

Yet, sir, you must think of it, reiterated Sir David, and seriously too, though I shall not hurry you in the execution of it. You shall have time to mourn, if that be what you wish for; but my spirit has been much too deeply galled by the son to bear any aggravation from the gentleman, who allows himself to be called the father--Therefore in one word--Your bond, sir, to my mother, or your blood.--There is but this alternative: so take your choice.

You will give me time, Sir David, to deliberate upon this.

Just as much time, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, as it will cost my lawyer to write out the bond. I will call upon you before two hours are past. With these threatening words the loud-tongued bravo bolted out of the room--Mercy on me, exclaimed the affrighted Philip, what shall I do now, hedged in as I am between matrimony and murder?

Faithful to his time, Sir David walked into poor Philip's room without ceremony, followed by the bearer of the bond, and accompanied by a miscreant, who, in the counterfeited dress of an officer, was in his true character and profession nothing better than a bully and assassin.

There is the bond, said Ap Owen, throwing it on the table: this gentleman, who drew it up, will read it over to you, and point out the place where you are to sign and seal. Though in itself a mere matter of form, yet where a lady's honour is concerned, it is a form indispensable. It will behove you therefore instantly to complete it: if not, this brave and gallant officer, who holds a respectable command in the army of his most faithful majesty, and is my friend, will be under the unpleasant necessity to demand satisfaction of you in my name, and settle time and place for deciding our difference by the death of one of us.

Immediately the bond-bearer began to gabble it over with that kind of inarticulate rapidity, which to Philip's perturbed senses gave little chance for understanding it. This ceremony being over, the operation of signing and sealing was pressed forward with the utmost haste, and urged by Sir David and his mock-military friend with no common importunity.

As soon as this was done, the bond-bearer folded up his paper, thrust it into his bosom and walked off: the principal and his second sate down on each side of Philip--We have now one common interest, said Sir David, and are friends for life. The injurious treatment I have received from those, with whom I shall be so nearly connected, and chiefly from your son, may now be amicably adjusted. You, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, will be united to one of the most amiable women in the world; a lady descended from the illustrious house of De La Cerda, and endowed with every grace, and every virtue, that can render the married state correctly honourable and supremely happy.

If it be but quiet, that is all I ask, poor Philip said in a desponding tone. After a short pause he added--If this gentleman has no particular objection to leaving us alone, I should wish to say a few words to you, Sir David, in private upon family concerns.

Sir David desired the colonel, as he called him, to wait for him in the next room: Philip took the liberty of informing him that he should go to England by the pacquet for the purpose of settling some affairs, that in consequence of Mrs. De Lancaster's decease would require his presence.

To this Sir David replied--I perceive you have not strictly attended to the conditions of the bond, you would have else have known that to separate yourself from my mother before marriage would involve you in the forfeiture of it. We mean to pass the winter months at Cintra, where I have engaged a house in the near neighbourhood of Mr. Devereux's villa. It is sufficiently large to accommodate us both; and you will there not only find yourself in an earthly paradise, but enjoy the full opportunity of cultivating a more close acquaintance with the truly amiable object, who is destined to make your future days respectable and happy. What a violation would it be of all the rules of gallantry and good faith were you to run over to England and desert her! No, my dear sir, no, my dear sir, he said, I could not for any consideration in life submit to part from my good father-in-law elect, for whom I have conceived so cordial an esteem, and in whose society I promise myself so many agreeable hours. Having now definitively adjusted your alliance with my mother, I shall lose no further time in sounding Mr. Devereux on the disposal of his daughter, and we may very probably effect a double marriage at the same happy moment, provided only that I find the young lady's fortune answer my expectations.

That is truly a very prudent consideration, Philip replied, and puts me in mind, Sir David, to ask you what is the fortune I am to expect with the lady your mother.

The happiest that can befal you, was the answer, and a bond of twenty thousand pounds cancelled on your wedding-day. With these words Ap Owen left the room, whilst poor Philip, silenced but not satisfied, made no further effort to detain him.

Though Mrs. Rachel De Lancaster had some grounds for expecting a proposal, she had no such plea upon the score of actual promise as could constitute a claim so peremptory as now was urged upon him; and with all the partiality he had ever felt or expressed for the widow, it may well be doubted if his dread of marriage would not in all cases have outweighed his hopes of happiness. But now, crest-fallen and spiritless, in a strange country, which he dare not quit, and conscious, that, except within the walls of his far-distant home, he had not in the world a friend, to whom he could unbosom his sorrows and appeal for succour and advice, he poignantly felt the full impression of his distressful situation. To his father he was ashamed to write; to his sister writing could not serve him; Colonel Wilson was not a man for his purpose, and there remained only his son John, whom, though he had hitherto treated as a child, he now thought proper to address by letter; and in the course of the next day, after as much meditation as his mind was capable of, he wrote as follows.

"Dear son!

"The circumstance of your mother's death, communicated to me in a letter from your aunt, has involved me in a very serious difficulty, of which I lose no time to give you an account. Sir David Ap Owen, who has settled himself here for the winter, and with whom I am upon the best terms, has used very cogent means to prevail upon me to enter into contract of marriage, claiming the fulfilment of a promise, which he states that I have made to Mrs. Rachel Ap Owen his mother, when I visited her at Penruth Abbey. Now though I will not deny but that words were said by me, which she has a right to consider as extremely flattering, I do not think they can be made to bear the interpretation of an absolute promise, as insisted upon by Sir David. I protest to you, son John, I am not a man inclined to hasty measures, more especially of a matrimonial nature, being, as you know, rather studious of my repose; and of course I took some pains to satisfy the gentleman that, with all possible respect for the lady, it would suit me better to leave her in possession of her tranquillity, and continue to enjoy my own. Sir David's answer to this was by the statement of an alternative, which was not a little embarrassing, as he left me nothing but a choice of difficulties; declaring that I must either instantly decide to keep faith with his mother, and pledge myself to marry her, or turn out with him and end the difference by the death of one of us. Now though I am not afraid of death in a natural way, knowing we all must die, yet I am for conscience-sake a most determined enemy to duelling, by which my grandfather lost his life; I therefore had insuperable objections to the latter part of his proposal; and seeing him also accompanied by a gentleman of a very martial appearance, who, though offering himself as second only, seemed by far more terrible than his principal, I thought good to compromise the matter, and executed a bond, obliging myself under a very heavy penalty to wed the lady on the expiration of three months to come. Now as every one must acknowledge the uncommon merits of Mrs. Rachel Ap Owen, and none can be more sensible of them than I am, I console myself with the reflection, that if I shall be perfectly recovered from my bruises, when the time comes that our union is to take place, it may prove the happy means of restoring that antient and accustomed harmony between our families, which with much regret I understand has of late been interrupted. You are thus possessed of what I have to say, and as I suspect that my father will be adverse to this hasty match; and doubt if even Cecilia with all her candour will be entirely reconciled to it, I conjure you by your filial duty and affection, if you find them obstinate in their opposition, to come over in person to my relief and comfort; forasmuch I am bound not to stir from this country, and so closely watched that, were I disposed to attempt it, I am certain the attempt would be frustrated, and perhaps be fatal.

"This is the first letter I ever wrote to you; lay it to your heart: recollect that you are my son, and if haply you possess that active spirit of your ancestors, which has not descended upon me, take pity on my situation, and hasten to the rescue of your affectionate, but afflicted, father--

"PHILIP DE LANCASTER."

Philip had just time to set his name to this lamentable epistle, when a young gentleman of good person and elegant address, who had been announced by the name of Devereux, entered the room. He understood Mr. De Lancaster to be in habits of friendship with Sir David Ap Owen, and, if he had not been misinformed, they were near neighbours in Merionethshire.

Philip said he had been rightly informed. They were near neighbours. Sir David's seat at Penruth was not above four miles from Kray Castle, where he lived with his father.

Penruth has been represented to me, said the gentleman, as a very fine old venerable mansion--Philip nodded assent--And the estate about it very considerable; indeed, as I have been told, very capital.

I have been told the same, Philip said; but I am not curious about people's estates. Sir Owen, this young gentleman's uncle, lived very handsomely, and very hospitably, upon it. That is all I know of the matter.

I suspect, rejoined the other, I may appear to you more inquisitive than I ought to be; but I beg leave to say in my own defence that I was particularly referred to you by Sir David himself.

Sir David could not have referred you to a more unfit man: I am as ignorant of my own father's estate as I am of Sir David's, and of Sir David's as I am of your's.

Why then, sir, I must pay a visit to Penruth myself; for I have my father's strict commands to obtain information of every particular necessary for him to know relative to Sir David Ap Owen, who, I must now tell you, has made proposals to us for marrying my sister.

Yes, and to me, said Philip, for marrying his mother; you see therefore it is a family-affair between us, and though I have not a single syllable to offer why Sir David's marriage with your sister should not take place, I confess it would not break my heart if mine with his mother was put off for ever. Now, sir, if you are bound to England, I can truly say, I wish I were going with you; but if you meditate a visit to Penruth Abbey, where there is nobody to receive you, I most earnestly recommend it to you to turn aside and go to Kray Castle, where my father and his family will be happy to see you, and where you may do me a singular piece of service, if you will take charge of this letter, which I have just been writing, and deliver it privately to my son, whilst I will trouble you to be the bearer of a few lines to my good and worthy father, simply to let him know how respectable a visitor I shall have the honour to introduce to him, when you are pleased to avail yourself of his well known hospitality.

Sir, replied Devereux, I am setting off for England in to-morrow's pacquet. Of your letter to your son I will take faithful charge, and deliver it to him in the manner you prescribe. I also thankfully embrace your very kind offer of introducing me to your father, of whose high character for worth and honour I am not uninformed; whilst I must own there is a mysterious kind of cloud about Sir David Ap Owen, through which I am not able perfectly to see my way; for I find him totally unknown to our British envoy here, and have not heard him say what brings him and the lady, to whom it seems you are engaged, into this country, having so lately succeeded to a great situation and establishment in his own. With respect to his proposed connection with my family, I must beg to say, that although we reside here in the character and capacity of merchants, we have nevertheless such pretensions on the score of noble birth and property by no means inconsiderable, as give us a perfect right to use every honorable precaution for knowing whom we are to receive into our alliance, provided the gentleman, who proposes, shall prove acceptable to us as well as to my sister; on whom nothing has been sparingly bestowed, that either nature could give or education improve.

This being said, what further passed is not important to relate. Philip wrote a short letter to his father, and having delivered it, and his secret pacquet, to Mr. Devereux, took his leave of him, and as he grasped his hand with a sensation, rarely, if ever, felt by him before, he sent from his sad heart a longing sigh towards his beloved native country, which fate, that had doomed him never more to visit it but as a corpse, gave to the winds, that dispersed it on its passage.

When the Irish tailor, who had been a journeyman botcher in London, and was now become a master of journeymen botchers in Lisbon, had invested the well-made person of Mr. Philip De Lancaster in an ill-made suit of rotten black, the mourning bridegroom elect, having paid the bill and dismissed the bill-maker, examined himself in the glass, and thus, as was customary with him, mournfully soliloquized--

"Luckless man that I am, must I put aside this habit on my wedding-day? Wherefore; on what pretence; I have undergone that ceremony once already, and by experience can more than guess to what sad hours that ceremony leads. Marriage, by high authority denominated honourable, is, through perversion of its purposes, to many become disgraceful, burdensome to most, and a blessing, as I verily believe, to few, if any, who know how to compute what is a blessing, and what is their bane. There are indeed a few soft silly things amongst the mass of female spinsters, that a man, who knows the value of their ignorance, might possibly with proper care prevent from growing wiser; but a widow-- who can keep in ignorance? Not I; not any man.

"Her eyes, her air, her action, every movement and every word prognosticate sagacity, that will not be deceived: then what a pipe? Good Heaven, if that voice, which is so shrill whilst only warbling Spanish tonadillas, that to me are unintelligible, shall be roused to exert itself in plain English argumentation, farewel to all repose! nor peace, nor quiet shall I ever know. How am I sure she is not a Jewess? She may, for aught that I can tell, be lineally descended from that wicked king, who put to death all the innocents; and if so, how shall I escape? Happy Devereux, he is on the seas: would I were on them too, or under them, rather than what I may be, aye, and shall be if that sharp-eyed widow sets her wits to work. I begin to think I made a wrong choice, and should have taken my chance of turning out with the son, rather than of turning in where I shall have no chance at all. There seems nothing left for me but to fall extremely sick, and that I may really be so without feigning, I will instantly call in a Portuguese physician, and I am resolute to take his physic. Ah, where is my good friend and countryman Llewellyn? My poor wife followed his prescriptions, and behold! here am I in his livery, black as the hands of man can make me. Ah Llewellyn, Llewellyn, in Wales it was quite enough for me to endure your company; I never wished to be your patient till now that I am in Lisbon, and under sentence of a dose more bitter and against my palate than you ever mixed--But what if John De Lancaster should come upon my call? There would be a champion worthy of my cause: Glendowr's magic could not conjure up a braver or a stouter spirit. He is young, not married, not, like me, bent to the yoke, but free, untrammeled and untamed. I'll cherish hope; I'll feed upon the thought that my brave boy will come, and vex myself no more."

Whilst this sad ditty was in recitation Devereux was wafted swiftly over the ocean, favoured by a freshening gale, that blowed direct for England, as if impatient to salute the mother of the winds and mistress of the waves, amidst which she sits safe and encircled on her chalky throne.

Mean time our John De Lancaster, from whose society we have unwillingly been separated for some short while, could hardly count the hours, so quick they passed, when with his loved Amelia by his side,

It might now be most truly said that the good old chief of the family at Kray Castle was surrounded by a groupe of happy subjects, all loyal, free and affectionate, all witnessing his benevolence, regaling themselves in the sunshine of his smile and sharing the enjoyments of his hospitable board: his cooks seemed perfectly persuaded that spits were made to turn, whilst his cellerman probably forgot that the property of a spigot was to stop a barrel. Scarce a day passed, which was not marked by the attention of his neighbouring friends; Sir Arthur Floyd and the new allies were frequent in their visits, for they had a passionate affection for our hero, and whilst their eyes dwelt with approving pleasure on the fair Amelia, they destined him to her arms, and paid her their devoirs as to a bride elect.

Mrs. Jennings, respited from all the anxious responsibility of a governess, seemed to retain nothing but that unalterable affection for her beloved charge, which was natural to her, and began to think of retiring to her independence at Denbigh--I see you now, my dear Amelia, she said, firmly seated in the hearts of this liberal and benignant family, adopted by the excellent Cecilia, and favoured beyond all my hopes by the venerable De Lancaster; and what more have I to do but to lay down my cares, and rejoice in your good fortune? I have to the best of my power fulfilled the promise, that I made to your dear father, whose conscious spirit, now in bliss, looks down upon you; my prayers for your happiness, and for the life of him, on whom your happiness depends, will for the remnant of my days be fervently put up to that Almighty Power, whose attribute is mercy. Go on, my child, in the right course, in which I strove to train you, and from which you never yet have strayed. Cultivate Cecilia: Guard your young heart against the dangerous allurements of sudden elevation, and that unlooked-for prosperity, which is at hand to put your constancy, your piety, your humility to the test. Mean, low-born persons are too apt to turn giddy on the wheel of fortune, when it lifts them from the dirt; but recollect, that in hereditary rank and dignity your pretensions are as high as those of the De Lancasters and Morgans, who in riches, not in ancestry, have an advantage over you, and riches only, as you well know, constitute no actual superiority. Let your humility therefore, though in itself one of the most recommendatory qualities you can possess, be that gentle virtue, which your religion dictates, but never let it sink below the mark, at which true conscious honour has a right to stand.

Cecilia's lessons, not less edifying, were of another cast; for every word, that fell from her lips, was tinctured with a suavity and grace peculiar to her elegance of character. When she addressed her admonitions to the heart, their object was to inspire it with benevolence, with charity, with resignation and that christian lowliness, which whilst on earth it sinks, secures its happiest surest flight to Heaven. To these Amelia listened with delight; on these she formed herself, and, happily for her, whilst she received the precept, she beheld the example, that confirmed it. Every day gave her new graces, till the charms of beauty were but as ornaments, whose only use is to set off the lustre of the real gem.

As for the grand-father of her beloved, it was something curious to remark how soon she found a strenuous advocate in him. When he descanted she was all attention; nothing could draw her from him. He would say, Amelia listens to me with good sense and apprehension: There is a marked discernment in her silence, that is more pleasing, aye, and more eloquent than all the studied praise that flattery can suggest--I have been thinking, he said one day, as they were sitting in their family circle, I have been thinking, John, that if I live to see the day when you shall be of age, how perfectly it would complete and crown my felicity, would you take it into your gallant mind to make me a present on that joyful occasion. I would have you think it is not a trifle, that will satisfy me. It must be a measure of your esteem for me, and a full satisfaction, recompence and return for all the love, the care, the fond anxiety, that you have merited and I bestowed. Look around, and tell me if you guess my meaning.

John had not far to look, for Amelia sate beside him struggling to conceal her consciousness of the allusion, and dreading to hear that, which would have given her such delight to have overheard without the confusion of being present. In this instant, most opportunely for her rescue, whilst all her efforts could not prevent her blushes from betraying her, the harp of David Williams sounded in the hall, and she exclaimed above her usual pitch--Oh, what a charming strain.

Bid him come in, said the old gentleman, addressing himself to his grandson, and if the muse has visited her votary, perhaps she will supply him with words to that strain, which our dear Amelia seems to be so pleased with--David has a quick invention when his wits are well warmed with his favourite metheglin.

The minstrel entered and was led to a seat in the corner of the room, at the farthest distance from the company assembled. Having lightly sounded the strings of his harp to prove if they were in perfect tune, he asked if the young stranger lady was in the room.

Mr. De Lancaster told him that Miss Amelia Jones was present, and had expressed herself much pleased with the melody, which he had been rehearsing in the hall: Could he play it over to them again?

Perhaps not quite the same: He would attempt something as like it as he could recollect, he hoped it would be not much worse, but he doubted if it would be exactly the same.

David, said De Lancaster again, you have enquired if Miss Jones is present; I have told you that she is, and if you could see her, and be satisfied how fair a lady you are invited to address, your muse, inspired by her beauty, would be propitious, and mere melody would not be all, that we should hear from you.

Roused by this challenge to his genius, the blind old bard spread his hands upon the harp, and having rested his forehead on the frame of it for a very few minutes, after an appropriate prelude, extemporaneously broke forth as follows.

"Lady, they tell me thou art passing fair, And blest by Heaven with a celestial mind; I hear thee speaking, but I know not where, For woe is me, poor minstrel! I am blind.

Yet when the muse inspires me, I can trace Forms, that to mental vision seem divine; My fancy can pourtray an angel's face, Dress it in angel smiles, and call it thine.

Still through the windings of these antient tow'rs Your dark musician can explore his way, For my dear patron's animating pow'rs To these benighted orbs can give the day.

Object of all our love, of all our care. To thee, brave youth, our honest praise is giv'n; Thy deeds, recorded in the poor man's pray'r, With that sweet incense shall ascend to Heav'n.

Oft have I bless'd thee, borne thee in my arms, And oft have hush'd thy wailing infant cry, Or witching thy young heart with music's charms Chang'd the loud laugh to pity's melting sigh.

And shall not he, that feels the virgin's wrongs, In some fond virgin's nuptial arms be blest, Whilst grateful bards record him in their songs In love the happiest, and in heart the best?

But who is this in bridal robes array'd? What beauteous vision is it that I see? Hail, fair Amelia! this celestial shade Is the bright form my day-dream shapes for thee."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet