Chapter XIII: Part 13

He is an untractable man, said she; but as I do not wish to quarrel with my children, I think it will be prudent for you to stay at my lord's rather than here. Mr Arnold said his obligations to lord V---- were unspeakable; for that he had promised not only to see all our affairs properly settled, but to take the mortgage of South-Park into his own hands, as he fears the person who now has it will not be so tender a creditor as himself. He also proposes (as the sale of my effects cannot amount to what my debts come to) to pay what may be deficient, and make himself my sole creditor. If it had not been for such a prospect as this, added my dear Mr Arnold, notwithstanding your goodness and lady Bidulph's, I had resolved never to have appeared before either of you.

We determined to set out for Sidney-castle in three or four days at farthest; and took leave of my mother for this night.

_December 21_

I told lady V---- this morning, that though I was determined never to mention our past misfortune to Mr Arnold, yet I owned I had a great curiosity to know what means Mrs Gerrarde had made use of, to work up his suspicions to the high pitch she had done; but I would rather remain unsatisfied, than mortify him by the recollection of this particular.

I can inform you of her whole proceedings, answered lady V----, as I had it from Mr Arnold himself; for to tell you the truth, I was as curious about that as you, and took the liberty to ask your husband concerning it yesterday, when we had him to ourselves. It was the interval between dinner, and the hour that you were expected here in the evening, that I laid hold of for this purpose, as I found him then composed enough to bear the enquiry.

He told me, that from the time of his going down to South-Park, Mrs Gerrarde had begun to throw out insinuations concerning you, that had a little alarmed him. She asked him, Whether you made a good wife? which he answering in the affirmative, she replied, she was glad of it; for that she had been told your affections were formerly deeply engaged to a very fine young gentleman, who, as his fortune was very much above your expectations, your mother, fearing your violent fondness for him might lead you into some act of indiscretion, had carried you out of town on purpose to avoid him; and was glad to marry you as hastily as she could, to put you out of the reach of harm.

Your husband acknowleges, that he believes he had himself casually informed Mrs Gerrarde of the manner of his first becoming acquainted with you, and the suddenness with which his marriage was concluded; yet she pretended to him, she was before apprized of these particulars.

He owns that those hints, though far from giving him any suspicion of your virtue, had nevertheless made some impression on him. You know, Madam, added he, that, madly devoted as my affections were to Mrs Gerrarde, I had always behaved to my wife with great tenderness and respect. This I suppose it was which raised Mrs Gerrarde's jealousy, and made her leave no method unattempted to part us. Mr Faulkland had not been long at V---- hall, when she asked me, with uncommon earnestness, whether he visited at my house; I told her he did not, and asked the meaning of her enquiry. She affected to turn it off, and said, she had no particular reason for her question; but her manner was such, as the more excited my curiosity. At length she was prevailed on to tell me, that Mr Faulkland was the man (for she had not yet named the person), whom my wife had so passionately loved. Prepossessed as I was with jealousy, I now took the alarm. I recollected that Mrs Arnold had told me at lord V----'s, upon my first seeing him there, that she _had_ been very well acquainted with him; and I even thought that I had observed something particular in his countenance when he addressed her. I was now sure that he had come into the neighbourhood merely on her account. The hell that I suffered is not to be described; for though I really fancied that I had conceived almost an aversion to Mrs Arnold, I yet could not bear the thoughts of being dishonoured. An accident happened which served to strengthen my suspicions: he then related the circumstance of his seeing you at the public house on the night of the fire; and of his finding Mr Faulkland putting you into your chariot. He owned at the same time, that he was there with Mrs Gerrarde, whom he had conducted out of the play-house, having called for her there in his return from making a visit, as he had promised to sup with her that night. Mrs Gerrarde, when she had him at her house, affected to speak with some surprize of your imprudence, in suffering a young man of Mr Faulkland's _known_ turn for gallantry, to attend you to _such_ a place, and at that hour. Though, added he, Mrs Arnold's own account of this had satisfied me at the time, yet Mrs Gerrarde's insinuations blew up the fire anew in my breast. She pretended to sooth me; but the methods she took rather increased my uneasiness. She told me, she believed my honour as _yet_ had received no injury; and to preserve it effectually, she thought I could not do better than to forbid my wife to see Mr Faulkland. The designing vile woman, continued your husband, knowing that this prohibition would cut off her visits at V---- hall, no doubt apprehended my wife would not so readily acquiesce under it; and she was sure any resistance on her part would but the more inflame me. But in this she was disappointed; for I no sooner required Mrs Arnold's promise on the occasion, than she, without the least hesitation, made it. My requiring so extraordinary a proof of her obedience, induced Mrs Arnold to enquire into the cause; and upon my explaining it, she acknowleged that Mr Faulkland had once been her lover, and that the match was broken off by her mother, who had conceived some dislike to him. This was so far from gaining credit with me, that it only served to corroborate what Mrs Gerrarde had told me. I was, however, contented for the present with the promise that my wife had made me; of which I informed Mrs Gerrarde.

He then proceeded to tell me of his finding you and Mr Faulkland together one evening at the house of Mrs Gerrarde. I must confess, continued he, this unexpected incident transported me beyond the bounds of patience: I suffered, notwithstanding, Mr Faulkland to go quietly out of the house, more for Mrs Gerrarde's sake than any other consideration, and permitted her to go home with my wife (who I then thought _pretended_ illness,) waiting in the mean time at her house for her return, in order to have this extraordinary and unexpected meeting explained.

Mrs Gerrarde, on her return expressed the utmost concern and resentment on the occasion. She told me, that as she had expected me that evening (which was really the case), she had sent to my wife to engage her for the next day, in order to prevent her coming to interrupt us, which was not unlikely, as Mrs Arnold had not been to see her from the time she was laid up by the hurt she received; and she said, she did not care to lay herself so open to her servants, as to have herself denied to the wife, whilst she entertained the husband.

I myself, continued he, having the same apprehensions, had asked Mrs Arnold, on my going abroad in the morning, how she purposed to dispose of herself for the day; and she had told me she intended to stay at home. Mrs Gerrarde said, that notwithstanding her message, she was surprized with a visit from Mrs Arnold just as she was sitting down to dinner; that she however put a good face on the matter, and received her very cordially; but in order to get rid of her soon, told her, she was engaged abroad in the afternoon. Mrs Arnold, she added, however thought proper to stay, and I could not avoid asking her to drink coffee. While we were at it, behold, to my very great surprize, Mr Faulkland sent in his name, and immediately entered the parlour.

As I guessed, continued Mrs Gerrarde, that this was a settled assignation, I own I was extremely provoked at it. Mr Faulkland, with whom I formerly had a very slight acquaintance at Bath, _so_ slight indeed as never to be visited by him, now very audaciously made an apology for not having waited on me sooner; but said, that he did not hear of my being in the neighbourhood, 'till a day or two before, and hoped I would allow him the honour of renewing his acquaintance. I had hardly temper enough to make him a civil answer; but said, I was sorry I was engaged that evening, and must be obliged to go out immediately. I thought this hint was enough for Mrs Arnold; and that she would have had the discretion to have taken her leave. She asked pardon for having kept me at home so long, protesting she had really forgot that I told her I was engaged. She begged she might not detain me any longer, saying, she had ordered her chariot to come for her in the evening, and that she would wait for it, as she found herself not very well, and therefore not able to walk home. I now saw into the whole scheme: Mr Faulkland would naturally stay to keep her company, and they would have my house to themselves; but I resolved to disappoint them both; and telling Mrs Arnold I would leave her at home, ordered the chariot to the door. Mrs Arnold opposed this, under pretence of not giving me so much trouble, and pretending to be sick and faint, said she would step to the door, in order to get a little more air; I followed her hastily, and your coming in the instant, I suppose, detained Mr Faulkland in the parlour, for he could not but see you from the window. You know the rest, added Mrs Gerrarde; and I leave you to judge, whether Mrs Arnold be inclined to keep her word with you, in regard to Mr Faulkland.

Can you blame me, Madam, proceeded your husband, if, after what I now saw and heard, I was enraged almost to madness against my wife? The base woman, who had now accomplished her wicked purpose, encouraged me in my desperation. In the midst of my fury, however, I could not help making one observation, which was, that as Mrs Gerrarde's going, or pretending to go out that evening, was a casual thing, they could hardly have expected an opportunity of being _alone_ at her house, even though the meeting was concerted. Mrs Gerrarde answered, That was very true; and she supposed there was nothing at first farther intended, than that the _lovers_ should have the pleasure of seeing and conversing together, as they had been so long separated; the other, to be sure, said she, was an after-thought, which the opportunity suggested. She then, after making me swear secrecy, told me, that Mrs Arnold had, when she followed her out to the door, conjured her not to tell me that Mr Faulkland and she (Mrs Gerrarde) were acquainted; for, said she, as Mr Arnold is of a jealous temper, and has heard that Mr Faulkland formerly courted me, he would not suffer me to come near your house, if he knew that Mr Faulkland visited you. I promised her I would not, added Mrs Gerrarde; and I make no doubt but that she hoped in time (relying on my good nature, my seeming fondness for her, and the easiness of my temper) to engage me as the confidant and abettor of her loose amour.

Mrs Gerrarde concluded with saying, that she believed nothing criminal had as _yet_ passed between Mr Faulkland and my wife, at least since his coming to V---- hall; but as there was no with-holding a woman from her will, it was very probable that Mrs Arnold would contrive the means of meeting, though not at _her_ house, yet somewhere else. I raved, threatened, talked of fighting Faulkland, and locking up my wife. She artfully dissuaded me from such violent measures by a number of arguments, which I will not trouble you with repeating: Amongst other things, she said, that I had no right to call Faulkland to an account merely from surmise, which was all I had to ground my charge on; and though there was the strongest reason to believe he had dishonourable designs on Mrs Arnold, yet as I could not directly accuse him of them, I should be laughed at for engaging in a quarrel, which to the world would appear to be so ill-grounded. As to what I threatened in regard to my wife, she said, such measures only make a woman desperate, and would be far from preventing the evil; in short, that it would be better to part quietly, without embroiling myself with her friends, or undertaking the hateful office of becoming gaoler to my wife. She found me but too well disposed to follow her fatal counsel. I wrote that cruel letter to my wife, which turned her from her home, at Mrs Gerrarde's house. She kept me with her till midnight, and had worked up my resentment to such a pitch, that I determined not to see Mrs Arnold any more. To avoid expostulations, I went to a friend's house, at the distance of several miles. When I came back, Mrs Gerrarde told me that Mr Faulkland was absent from V---- hall, and she concluded the lovers were now together.

I interrupted your husband at this part of the story, pursued Lady V----, and told him, that to _my_ knowledge Mr Faulkland had gone to Sidney-Castle, to see Sir George Bidulph, before you left your own house; and did not set out from thence on his return 'till about three weeks after your separation; at the account of which he was exceedingly surprized.

Dear Lady V----, said he, do you think I _now_ want any farther arguments to convince me what an injurious wretch I have been to the best of women?

I have one observation to make to you, Mr Arnold, added I; which is, that your lady's misfortune was intirely owing to her great delicacy, and the nice regard she had to your peace and honour.

I do not understand you, Madam, he replied.

Know then, said I, that your wife was well acquainted with your connection with Mrs Gerrarde, from the very night that you found her at the public house, to which the accident that happened to her obliged her to go. She owned to me, at the time you drove her from her home, that she had discovered your amour from a conversation she overheard that night between you and Mrs Gerrarde. This I extorted from her, by letting her know I was no stranger to the intrigue. I then repeated to him the discourse that passed between him and that wicked woman, as far as you had told me, and he very well remembered it. Now, Mr Arnold, said I, to prove the assertion I made in regard to your lady, had she reproached you with your infidelity, as _some_ wives would have done, tho' it might have occasioned a temporary uneasiness to you both, yet would it have prevented her from falling a sacrifice to that most artful and wicked of her sex; for you could not then have had such an improbable falshood imposed on you, as that Mrs Arnold would have made choice of the _mistress_ of her husband for a confidant, and fix on _her_ house as the rendezvous for a love-intrigue. The base woman herself had no reason, from Mrs Arnold's prudent and gentle behaviour, to think she was suspected by her.

Your husband lifted up his eyes to heaven; and striking his breast, Blind, blind wretch, he cried! infatuated, ungrateful monster! are there no amends--no amends in thy power for such goodness?

I could not bear such a description of my poor Mr Arnold's deep contrition. I stopped Lady V----; and, being now informed of all I wanted to know, changed the conversation.

_December 22_

We are preparing to get into the country with all speed. I have writ to Patty to set out with the two children for Sidney-Castle as soon as possible. Mr Arnold has put his affairs intirely into the hands of our worthy friend Lord V----, and we think, upon a calculation, that what we have in town, at South-Park, and at Arnold-Abbey, will go near to answer the present demands that are upon us.

Lady V---- is the best creature living; she knows that neither Mr Arnold nor I chuse to see any visitors, and she has let none in these two days. I am vexed at laying her under such a restraint, though her good-nature will not suffer her to think it one. We shall go out of town on Monday; to-morrow we spend with my mother, as do Lord and Lady V---- (who are mightily charmed with her), and then adieu to London, perhaps for ever. If my mother comes down to me, as she intends to do, I shall have no temptation ever to return to it.

_Sidney-Castle, December 29._

Here I am, my dear, in the house of my nativity. Your Sidney and her
Arnold as happy as a king and a queen! or, to speak more properly,
happier than any king or queen in Christendom. My two dear little
girls are well, thank God! and look charmingly. Poor babes! they could
have no idea of their loss when I left them, yet they now seem pleased
at seeing me again. My faithful Patty is almost out of her wits with
joy. I have no maid but her, and an honest servant, whom my mother
left here to look after her house. Mr Arnold has retained but one of
his men: the garden is taken care of by an old man in the
neighbourhood, to whom my mother allows something for keeping it in
order.

With what delight do I recall the days of my childhood, which I passed
here so happily! You, my dear Cecilia, mix yourself in all my
thoughts; every spot almost brings you fresh into my memory. The
little filbert-wood, the summer-house, the mount, and the
chestnut-close that you used to love so! but the sight of your old
dwelling makes me melancholy. I think I could not bear to go into the
house; the deserted avenue to me appears much darker than it used to
do; and your poor doves are all flying about wild; and I think seem to
mourn the absence of their gentle mistress. Oh! Cecilia, how exquisite
are the pleasures and the pains that those of too nice feelings are
liable to! You, whose sensibility is as strong as mine, know this.
From what trifles do minds of such a turn derive both joy and grief!
Our names, our virgin names, I find cut out on several of the old elm
trees: this conjures up a thousand pleasing ideas, and brings back
those days when we were inseparable. But you are no longer Rivers, nor
I Bidulph. Then I think what I have suffered since I lost that name,
and at how remote a distance you are from me; and I weep like a
child--But away with such reflections: I am now happier, beyond
comparison happier, I think, than I was before my afflictions overtook
me. Mr Arnold's _recovered_ heart I prize infinitely more than I did
when he first made me an offer of it; because I am sure he gives it
now from a thorough conviction that I deserve it, and therefore I am
certain never to have it alienated again.

_January 4_

It is almost three years since I left this place; and the welcomes I have received from all our old neighbours and acquaintance, have given me more satisfaction than I can express. Mr Arnold is highly pleased with the marks of affection which he sees me daily receive from those who have known me from my infancy. I am the more delighted with it, as I think it gives me an additional value with him. 'Tis a proof at least that I never misbehaved during the long number of years that our former friends knew me, and we must needs be pleased to see the object of our love approved of by others. This I speak from my own experience. Mr Arnold is exceedingly caressed by all our friends, and seems equally delighted with them: you know we have some of the best people in the world amongst our old set of acquaintance. If you, my mother, and good Lady V----, were within my reach, I should think Sidney-Castle a paradise.

_January 10_

I have had two letters to-day; one from Lady V----, the other from my dear mother. Lady V---- tells me her husband is bustling about for us, to put affairs in the best condition he can. She says, he has already got a purchase for the lease of our house in St James's-Street; and all the moveables in it, as they now stand. They have been valued at two thousand seven hundred pounds. As most of our plate is there, as well as our chariot and a pair of horses, this has fallen very short of our expectations; but Lady V---- says, she is sure there was not more allowed for the furniture than half their original value, though they have not been a great while in use. She tells me, that my lord has employed a person to go down to Arnold-Abbey, to dispose of the things there; but she fears we shall receive a very indifferent return from thence, as there is but part of the furniture of Mr Arnold's putting in, the old goods going together with the house to the widow. My lord's steward at V---- hall has instructions about South-Park: he writes word to his lord that he believes the whole of what is there will not sell for more than four hundred pounds: the house indeed was but small, and the furniture not expensive. Mrs Gerrarde, he says, has had an attachment laid on her house by a person who built some bauble for her in her garden, for which he claims a debt of ninety pounds, though the steward says it is not worth thirty. 'All things, however, my lady adds, shall be adjusted in the best manner we can; and my lord will not let Mr Arnold be distressed on account of any deficiency that may happen in those sales.' What a jewel, my Cecilia, is an honest, warm friend!

The contents of my mother's letter are, That Sir George was married yesterday to Lady Sarah P----. She says, the bride was most extravagantly fine; but looked neither handsome nor genteel. This was much for my good mother to let drop from her pen; but I know she never liked Lady Sarah, nor did her ladyship ever treat her with the regard due to her character, and to the person of one who was to stand in the close and respectable degree of relationship to her, which my mother now does. But I believe I have before told you, that the blessings of good sense and good temper are bestowed but in a moderate degree on Lady Sarah; and for a woman of quality, Lady V---- tells me (for I have never seen her), that her breeding is not of the highest form. But you know a great fortune covers a multitude of imperfections in the eyes of most people, and I hope her love for my brother will make her a good wife.

_January 23_

I am grown a perfect farmer's wife, and have got a notable dairy: I am mistress of three cows, I assure you, which more than supply my family; then I have the best poultry in the country, and my garden flourishes like Eden. Mr Arnold is such a sportsman that we have more game than we know what to do with; but his chief pleasure is hunting.

Your little namesake promises to be the greatest beauty in the county. Dolly, who is a pretty little cherry-cheek, and her father's great favourite, prates like a parrot. How delightful will be the task of expanding and forming the minds of these two cherubs! how joyfully and how thankfully do I look back on the troubled sea which I have passed! My voyage indeed was not long, but my sufferings were great while they lasted. I never, since I was married, enjoyed life till now. You know my match was originally the result of duty to the best of mothers; and though, if I ever knew my own heart, it was absolutely freed from all attachment to any other person, yet was it not so devoted to Mr Arnold, as to have made him my choice preferably to all other men, if I had not resolved in _this_, as in every other action of my life, to be determined by those to whom I owed obedience. When I married Mr Arnold, I esteemed him; a sufficient foundation, in the person of a husband, whereon to build love. That love, his kindness, and my own gratitude, in a little produced in my heart; and I will venture to say few wives loved so well, none better. You know I could never bear to consider love as a childish divinity, who exercises his power by throwing the heart into tumultuous raptures: _my_ love, tho' of a more temperate kind, was sufficiently fervent to make Mr Arnold's coldness towards me alone capable of wounding my heart most sensibly; but when this coldness was aggravated by the cruel distrust which he was taught to entertain of me, the blow indeed became scarce supportable; and I did not till then know the progress he had made in my affections.

Sorrows, my Cecilia, soften and subdue the mind prodigiously; and I think my heart was better prepared from its sufferings to receive Mr Arnold's returning tenderness, than an age of courtship in the gay and prosperous days of life could have framed it to. I exult in his restored affections, and love him a thousand times better than ever I did. He deserves it; I am sure he does: he was led away from me by enchantment; nothing else could have done it. But the charm is broke, thank heaven! and I find him now the tenderest, the best of men. Every look, every word, every action of his life, is expressive of a love next to adoration. Oh! I should be too happy, if the blessings I now possess were to be my continued portion in this life! There is, however, but _one_ about which I can rationally indulge any fears--My mother--Her years, and her growing infirmities, will not suffer me to hope for her being long absent from her final place of felicity. You always used to say I anticipated misfortunes: this event _may_ be farther off than my anxious fears sometimes suggest to me; so no more of it.

_March 10_

My good Lady V---- writes me word, that all our business is finished. The whole amount of our effects came but to three thousand four hundred pounds; our debts (including some charges which have occurred in the transacting of our affairs) exceeded eight thousand. Our worthy Lord V---- has paid the whole, and has made himself our only creditor. We have nothing now, that we can call our own, but my jointure. I do not reckon upon my mother's bounty to us; our income from her, and the house we live in, will be Sir George's, whenever it is our misfortune to lose her. But she tells me she is well, and talks of coming down in about a fortnight.

_March 11_

I am here in a scene of still life, my dear; and you must now expect to hear of nothing but such trivial matters as used to be the subject of our journals when we were both girls, and you lived within a bow-shot of Sidney-Castle, and saw me every day. The last three months of my life have glided away like a smooth stream, when there is not a breath of wind to ruffle it; and after you read the transactions of one day, you know how I pass all the rest.

I have told you of every-body that came to see me, and all the visits that I returned: I have given you an account of all our old acquaintance, and of some new ones. You know what my amusements are, and what my business. Indeed, what I call business, is my chief pleasure. You, who are surrounded by the gaieties of a splendid court, had need of the partiality which I know you have for your Sidney, to desire a continuation of her insipid narrative. But, I suppose, if I were to tell you, that, on such a day, my white Guiney-hen brought out a fine brood of chickens, you might be as well pleased with it, as I should be to hear from you of the birth of an arch-duchess. Indeed, my Cecilia, there is such a sameness in my now-tranquil days, that I believe I must have recourse to telling you my dreams, to furnish out matter of variety.

_March 19_

We have had a wedding to-day in our neighbourhood. Young Main (Patty's brother) has got a very pretty young gentlewoman, with a fortune of five thousand pounds. It seems, this pair had been fond of each other from their childhood; but the girl's fortune put her above her lover's hopes; however, as he has, for a good while, been in very great business, and has the reputation of being better skilled in his profession than any one in the country, he was in hopes, that his character, his mistress's affection for him, and his own constancy, would have some little weight with her family. Accordingly he ventured to make his application to the young woman's brother, at whose disposal she was, her father having been dead for some years; but he was rejected with scorn, and forbid the house.

The girl's father, it seems, had been an humourist, and left her the fortune under a severe restriction; for, if ever she married without her brother's consent, she was to lose it; so that, in that particular instance of disposing of her person, she was never to be her own mistress. In the disposal of her fortune, however, he did not so tie her up; for after the age of one-and-twenty, she had the power of bequeathing her fortune by will to whom she pleased.

The brother, who is a very honest man, had no motive, but a regard to his sister's interest, in refusing poor Mr Main: a man of good fortune had proposed for her, whom the brother importuned her to accept of; but she was firm to her first attachment.

The young lover found means to convey a letter to his mistress, in which he told her, that as he was in circumstances to support her genteelly, if she would venture to accept of his hand, he would never more bestow a thought on her fortune. This proposal the prudent young woman declined on her own part, but advised him to make it to her brother, as she was not then without suspicions that he wished to retain her fortune in the family; and that it was only to save appearances he had proposed a match to her, of which he was sure she would not accept. But in this opinion she injured him. She thought, however, the experiment might be of use, in giving the better colour to her marrying afterwards the man whom she loved.

But it was an ill-judged attempt, and succeeded accordingly: for, if the brother should have given his consent, he could have no pretence for withholding her portion; or, if he did so by mutual agreement, his motive for denying his consent before, must appear too obviously to be a bad one.

The young people, not considering this sufficiently, resolved to make the trial; accordingly Mr Main wrote to the brother a very submissive letter, telling him he would, in the most solemn manner, relinquish all claim to his sister's fortune, if he would make him happy by consenting to their marriage; without which, he said, the young lady's regard for her brother would not suffer her to take such a step.

This letter had no other effect than that of making the brother extremely angry. He sent a severe message to the young man, to acquaint him, that he looked upon his proposal as a most injurious affront to his character; but that he was ready to convince him, and every-body else, that he had no designs upon his sister's fortune, as he would not refuse his consent to her marriage with any other man in the country but himself. This was a thunder-clap to the poor lover: he comforted himself, however, with the hopes that his mistress's heart would determine her in his favour, notwithstanding the severity of the brother.

There had been, it seems, besides this gentleman's not thinking Mr Main a suitable match for his sister, some old family pique between him and Mr Main's father.

These transactions happened some time before I came to the country. Just about that juncture, the poor girl had the misfortune to receive a hurt in her breast, by falling against the sharp corner of a desk from a stool, on which she had stood in order to reach down a book that was in a little case over it. This accident threw her into a fit of illness, which put a stop to all correspondence between her and her lover.

In this illness, a fever, which was her apparent complaint, was the only thing to which the physician paid attention, and the hurt in her breast was not enquired after; so that by the time she was tolerably recovered from the former, the latter was discovered to be in a very dangerous way, and required the immediate assistance of a surgeon. You may be sure poor Main was not the person pitched upon to attend her; another was called in, of less skill, but not so obnoxious to the family.

By this bungler, she was tortured for near three months; at the end of which time, through improper treatment, the malady was so far increased, that the operator declared the breast must be taken off, as the only possible means of saving her life.

The young gentlewoman's family were all in the greatest affliction; she herself seemed the only composed person amongst them. She appointed the day when she was to undergo this severe trial of her fortitude; it was at the distance of about a week. The surgeon objected to the having it put off so long, but she was peremptory, and at last prevailed.

On the evening preceding the appointed day, she conjured her brother in the most earnest manner, to permit Mr Main to be present at the operation. The brother was unwilling to comply, as he thought it might very much discompose her, but she was so extremely pressing, that he was constrained to yield.

The attending surgeon was consulted on the occasion; who having declared, that he had no objection to Mr Main's being present, that young man was sent for. He had been quite inconsolable at the accounts he received, of the dangerous state in which his mistress was, and went with an aching heart to her brother's house in the morning.

He was introduced into her chamber, where he found the whole chirurgical apparatus ready. The young woman herself was in her closet, but came out in a few minutes, with a countenance perfectly serene. She seated herself in an elbow chair, and desired she might be indulged for a quarter of an hour, to speak a few words to her brother, before they proceeded to their work. Her brother was immediately called to her, when taking him by the hand, she requested him to sit down by her.

You have, said she, been a father to me, since I lost my own; I acknowlege your tenderness and your care of me with gratitude. I believe your refusal of me to Mr Main, was from no other motive but your desire of seeing me matched to a richer man. I therefore freely forgive you that only act, in which you ever exercised the authority my father gave you over me. My life, I now apprehend, is in imminent danger, the hazard nearly equal, whether I do, or do not undergo the operation; but as they tell me there is a chance in my favour on one side, I am determined to submit to it.

I put it off to this day, on account of its being my birth-day. I am now one and twenty, and as the consequences of what I have to go through, may deprive me of the power of doing what I intended, I have spent this morning in making my will. You, brother, have an ample fortune; I have no poor relations; I hope, therefore, I stand justified to the world, for having made Mr Main my heir. Saying this, she pulled a paper from under her gown, which she put into her brother's hand, that he might read it. It was her will, wrote by herself, regularly signed, and witnessed by two servants of the family.

Sir, said she, turning to the other surgeon, as soon as my brother is withdrawn, I am ready for you. You may imagine this had various effects on the different persons concerned. The brother, however displeased he might have been at this act of his sister's, had too much humanity to make any animadversions on it at that time. He returned the paper to his sister without speaking, and retired.

Poor Main, who had stood at the back of her chair, from his first coming in, had been endeavouring to suppress his tears all the time; but at this proof of his mistress's tenderness and generosity, it was no longer in his power to do so, and they burst from him with the utmost violence of passion.

The other surgeon desired him to compose himself, for that they were losing time, and the lady would be too much ruffled.

The heroic young woman, with a smiling countenance, begged of him to dry his eyes: perhaps, said she, I may recover. Then fixing herself firmly in the chair, she pronounced, with much composure, 'I am ready.' Two maid servants stood one at each side of her, and the surgeon drew near to do his painful work. He had uncovered her bosom, and taken off the dressings, when Mr Main, casting his eyes at her breast, begged he might have leave to examine it before they proceeded. The other surgeon, with some indignation, said, his doing so was only an unnecessary delay; and had already laid hold of his knife, when Mr Main having looked at it, said, he was of opinion it might be saved, without endangering the lady's life. The other, with a contemptuous smile, told him, he was sorry he thought him so ignorant of his profession, and without much ceremony, putting him aside, was about to proceed to the operation; when Mr Main laying hold of him, said, that he should never do it in his presence; adding, with some warmth, that he would engage to make a perfect cure of it in a month, without the pain or hazard of amputation.

The young lady, who had been an eye-witness of what passed, for she would not suffer her face to be covered, now thought it proper to interpose. She told the unfeeling operator, the he might be very sure she would embrace any distant hope of saving herself from the pain, the danger, and the loss she must sustain, if he pursued the method he intended. She was not, however, so irresolute, she said, as to desire either to avoid or postpone the operation, if it should be found necessary; but as there was hope given her of a cure without it, she thought it but reasonable to make the experiment; and should therefore refer the decision of her case to a third person of skill in the profession, by whose opinion she would be determined.

The two women servants, who are always professed enemies to chirurgical operations, readily joined in her sentiments, and saying it was a mortal sin to cut and hack any christian, they made haste to cover up their young lady again.

The disappointed surgeon hardly forbore rude language to the women; and telling Mr Main he would make him know what it was to traduce the skill of a practitioner of his standing, marched off in a violent passion, saying to his patient, if she had a mind to kill herself, it was nothing to him.

The modest young man, delighted to find the case of his beloved not so desperate as he had supposed it to be, begged she would permit him to apply some proper dressings to the afflicted part, and conjuring her to call in the aid of the ablest surgeon that could be procured, took his leave.

The brother of the lady being apprized of what had passed, lost no time in sending an express to Bath; and by a very handsome gratuity, induced a surgeon of great eminence to set out immediately for his house, who arrived early the next morning. But in the mean time poor Main had like to have paid dear for his superior skill in his profession. The other surgeon had no sooner got home, than he sent him a challenge, to meet him that evening, in a field at some distance from the town. They met; Main had the good fortune, after wounding, to disarm his antagonist, but first received himself a dangerous wound.

This accident was kept from the knowledge of his mistress; but on the arrival of the surgeon from Bath, as he would not take off the dressings, but in the presence of the person who put them on, it was thought proper that both Mr Main and the other man should be sent for. The latter was not by any means in a condition to attend; but the former, though very ill and feverish, desired that he might be carried to the house. The Bath surgeon having, in his and the brother's presence, examined the case, declared it as his opinion, that the complaint might be removed without amputation; adding, that it was owing to wrong management that the grievance had gone so far. He consulted with Main, in the presence of the family, as to his intended method of treating it for the future; he agreed with him intirely, with regard to the propriety of it; and having assured the friends of the girl, that he thought him a skilful and ingenious young man, took his leave, being obliged to return directly home.

The testimony of this gentleman, whose skill was undoubted, and whose impartiality must be so too, having never seen any of the parties concerned in his life before, wrought so much upon the brother, that he did not hesitate to put his sister under the care of her lover.

Poor Main, though scarce able to leave his bed for some time, was nevertheless carried to his patient every day, at the hazard of his life. His skill, his tenderness, and his assiduity, were all exerted in a particular manner on the present occasion; and in less than five weeks he had the pleasure to see his mistress restored to perfect health.

The consequence of this incident was very happy for them both; the brother, exceedingly pleased at his whole behaviour, told him, he was an honest generous fellow; and since he was convinced it was his sister's person, and not her fortune he was attached to, he would, with all his heart, bestow both on him; and accordingly Mr Arnold and I had this day the satisfaction of seeing this worthy young pair united in marriage.

Patty is not a little delighted at her brother's good fortune. The honest youth, who has ever since his father's death supported his mother, and as many of the younger children as were not able to gain their own livelihood, has now invited his sister Patty to live with him; but the faithful girl declined the offer; telling her bother, she would never quit me, while I thought her worthy of my regard.

I look upon myself to be much obliged to her for this, as the station she is now in, cannot be so advantageous as I hoped to make it, when I first took her into my service; but I will make up in kindness what may be wanting in profit. Indeed I consider her rather as a friend than a servant, and Mr Arnold always treats her with respect.

_March 20_

I am very uneasy at not having it in my power to fulfil my promise to poor Miss Burchell; but that is a string I dare not as yet touch upon. Indeed I cannot bear any conversation that leads to the subject. Whenever Mr Arnold begins to accuse himself for his unhappy conduct, in relation to Mrs Gerrarde, which he often does, I always stop him, or turn the discourse to something else. He never speaks of her now, but with a contemptuous indifference; and is so firmly persuaded that she went off willingly with Mr Faulkland, that I dare not as yet undeceive him; which I must necessarily do, should I express even a wish that Mr Faulkland should repair the niece's wrongs by marriage. Mr Arnold knows nothing of miss Burchell's affair. I went once so far as to say I had heard Mr Faulkland formerly liked this young lady. Mr Arnold answered, I am glad it went no farther than liking; if it had, probably I should not have been so soon delivered from my thraldom to her aunt. This reply silenced me; I am exceedingly perplexed about it. Would to Heaven Mr Faulkland would of himself think of doing the amiable unhappy girl justice My mother writes me word, that Sir George had informed Mr Faulkland, by letter, of the success of his project; and that his answer was full of congratulations, and expressions of joy. He is now in Italy; but talks of returning to England next summer. He says, he hears sometimes from Pivet, and that he and his wife live very well together.

My mother says she often sees Miss Burchell, and that she encourages her with the hope of what may happen when Mr Faulkland comes back. If this match should ever take place, it would give me most sincere satisfaction. The girl's family is not contemptible; her fortune is pretty large, her person lovely; the unfortunate false step she made, is an entire secret, except to the persons immediately concerned; so that with regard to the world, her character too is good. Mrs Gerrarde, at worst, was only her aunt by marriage; but if that circumstance should be the only rub in her way to happiness, I would sooner declare the whole affair, and run the risk of Mr Arnold's being let into this ticklish secret, than be a hindrance to the poor young creature's welfare. This affair never comes a-cross me, but it makes me sigh. God send a favourable issue to it!

_March 26_

Alas! my Cecilia, we have received most heavy news! My good lord V----, that stedfast, that worthy, that best of friends, is no more! He was preparing to go to V---- hall, three days ago, but was seized with an apoplexy, as he was coming down stairs to go into his coach, and died before any assistance could reach him. Oh! we have a severe loss in the death of this most dear and valuable man!--but why do I mention _our_ loss?--his lady--poor lady V---- is almost distracted--and well she may--the best of husbands, fathers, every thing! His eldest son, who is abroad, is sent for home on this melancholy occasion--My poor mother is afflicted exceedingly: every body that knew him must be so. Mr Arnold and I have lost more than a father. How _self_ recurs every minute; let me think of lady V---- again, and not dare to complain on my own account; but my obligations to him were of such a nature, as claim all my gratitude to his memory, and all the tears that I have abundantly shed for him.

Mr Arnold is largely in his debt, we have no room to expect the same friendship from the present lord V----, that we experienced from his father.

This circumstance did not occur to me till poor Mr Arnold put me in the mind of it: my thoughts were too much absorbed in grief, which the death alone of our friend occasioned. My mother hinted at it too, in her letter to Mr Arnold; for it was to him she wrote the mournful tidings.

What a dark cloud of sorrow is spread over Sidney-castle! and how this stroke has imbittered our little domestic joys! But let me not carry my complainings into presumptuous murmurings. I have lost a sincere and truly valued friend; but do I not still possess infinite blessings? My husband, my dear Mr Arnold, my two sweet children, the best of mothers, and thee, my ever-beloved Cecilia, whom I still call mine, though at such a distance from me.

Then I comfort myself with reflecting that lady V---- has sons, who, I hope, will be a blessing to her; that her fortune is affluent, and that my lord had passed through a well-spent life, to a pretty advanced age. He was turned of sixty. All these considerations sooth my mind, and I acknowlege, that, upon the whole, I have, by far, more cause to be thankful, than to repine.

_March 30_

Lady V----'s journey down to V---- hall having been so fatally prevented, she is obliged to remain in London. The shock she has received has brought on her a fit of illness. I find my lord has not left any ready money; his fortune was large, but as they always lived in great splendor, he laid none of his income by: the whole sum which he could command, he laid out for our use. My lady's jointure is pretty considerable; if it were ten times more, she deserves it. Oh, may her sons prove worthy of such a parent! The youngest I hear is a very fine youth. He is come to her from Oxford to comfort her, till the arrival of his elder brother.

My mother writes me word, that her old friend lady Grimston is dead! She has left her whole fortune to charitable uses: not a sixpence to either of her daughters. Poor Mrs Vere! She is content with her little income, and has no loss of so unnatural a parent, who carried her vindictive spirit with her to the grave. As for the eldest, she did not stand in need of any assistance from her; but I own, though I had not great esteem for lady Grimston, I could not help being shocked at the brutal behaviour of her son-in-law to her in her last hours. She had never seen either him or her daughter from the time I told you they had quarrelled; but when she found herself dying, she sent a message to this favourite daughter, desiring to see her; her husband, whether out of disregard to the old lady, or his wife, or both, absolutely refused to let her go. My mother remarks on this passage in these words, 'Thus was this unfortunate parent punished in kind, for denying her late husband the satisfaction of seeing his youngest daughter, when he was in the same circumstances with herself.'

My mother is nevertheless very much troubled for the death of her old acquaintance; who, she says, was a valuable woman: she considers her decease as a memento, which warns her of her own approaching end; for they were just of an age.

I fear my mother is not well, though she does not say so; for she has put off her coming to Sidney-castle, without giving me a reason for it.

_April 22_