Chapter IX: Letter LIX: From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle

I am glad you agree with me in thinking it proper that our dear Mary should know the doctor’s opinion of her aunt’s precarious life. She has consented with great reluctance to see Doctor Tufton; he confirms our fears, and has made no change in her medicines. She told Douglass that she hoped he was satisfied by her compliance with his wishes, and added, “Do not think I am to be deceived; I have done with medicines and doctors.” “I told her that in that case I should think myself dismissed from her presence as well as favour,” said the doctor. “She answered that the visits of a friend would still be useful and acceptable;” but added she dejectedly, “your prescriptions may not be more infallible for a sick mind, than a diseased body.” “I took her burning hand,” continued the good doctor, “and with sincerity of heart I told her, that in both my characters, as her physician, and as her friend, I still hoped to be salutary to her, on condition she did not desert herself. You are too low now, added I, pouring out an untasted cordial at my hand; you ought to have taken this two hours since. She put the cup aside, and, shaking her head, said, you know it will do me no good; these are not the cordials I need. I know there are others within your reach, replied I with seriousness, that would contribute to give efficacy to this, and which you refuse from a despondency of mind which you ought to check. Wherefore is it, that with a brother nigh you, and whose conversation would cheer you, you refuse to see him? His heart is melting with compassion at the intelligence of your dejection and sufferings.” “Why then does he not come and tell me so? asked she with agitation. But I know what keeps him at a distance! he cannot say, Lucretia, I forgive you! he cannot say, be comforted!”

“The offence which produced your intemperance, and his too warm resentment, has been fully expiated by the pain which both have experienced from it,” observed the doctor; “both were in fault, and both have regretted the fault. Percival thinks only of a sick and afflicted _sister_. I will pledge my life on the sincerity of his affection for you; and I know his soul seeks to meet you in peace and love.” She was oppressed, and gasped for utterance. “Oh! why does he delay?” said she, “I long to see him before I die!” “You shall see him to day,” replied I, “on condition that you will be composed. I am confident that you will find comfort and amusement from his society. She named the hour, and requested that I would come with him, not knowing how the sight of him might affect her. I thought it better to avoid the suspense of procrastinating the interview,” continued the doctor, “and Mr. Flint has been with her. Poor Percival was extremely shocked when he saw the alteration that sickness had made in her person. She gave him her hand, and told him, with more composure than I expected, that she took his visit kindly. He spoke with emotion, and said something of his hopes, and the ensuing summer. I shall not live to see it, answered she, looking stedfastly on him; but it will comfort you, Percival, to know that the prospect of the grave no longer terrifies me; I am not without hope. He interrupted her. Cherish it, said he, eagerly, and, kissing her cheek, cherish it, my dear Lucretia! and may its salutary influence restore your health as well as your peace! Is this your wish? replied she, bursting into tears. Do you, can you forgive me? You had not seen me here, Lucretia, answered the captain with solemnity, had any resentment lurked in my bosom: as I hope for pardon for my own errors and mistakes, so certain is it, that affection and compassion brought me hither. Forget, as I have done, the past; live to be my comfort; and may this hour cancel from your mind every thought that retards your recovery! He again kissed her, and she hung on his neck, groaning with her agitations. Percival, overcome by this scene, permitted me to lead him from the chamber, and he was not able to see the family; I parted with him in the avenue. My patient, fatigued by these exertions, is fallen into a dose. She is sinking gradually; and will probably be lethargic.”

Mary will be anxious to hear the result of this first interview; her aunt requested that the captain would visit her daily.

I have only time to sign the name of your

RACHEL COWLEY.

P. S. Has Alice informed you that Mr. Snughead is dead? either his son-in-law’s return, or his grief for his wife was too much for him: he died at Bath of the gout in his stomach.