Chapter XXII: Part 22

I beheld him now, my Cecilia, in a light in which I had never before viewed him; overwhelmed by misfortunes, of which I accused myself as being the author. I saw him an exile, likely to be deprived of a noble fortune, his heart pierced with remorse for an involuntary crime. I saw too that he loved me; loved me with a fervent and unconquerable passion. Of this, in the anguish of his soul, at a time when he was wrought up to phrenzy, he had given but too strong demonstration. Shall I own it to you, my Cecilia, I think I never loved him as I did in that moment.

My heart was at once assailed by a variety of passions; amongst which, gratitude, and the softest compassion, were predominant.

I continued silent, whilst Mr Faulkland remained ardently gazing at me.

My brother, I believe, thought us too solemn; the occasion indeed required it: but his fears for Mr Faulkland made him wish to give the scene a livelier turn.

Come, sister, said he, let us not defer the happy event for which we are now met, we have no time to waste in ceremony. You remember what our mother used to say, 'Many things fall out between the cup and the lip.' My brother rose off his chair as he said this. Mr Warner taking the hint, approached, and took me by the hand, Let _me_, said he, to Mr Faulkland, have the happiness of bestowing this best of Creatures on the man that I think _best_ deserves her.

Mr Faulkland made no reply; but in taking the hand that my kinsman put into his, his looks spoke the rapture that swelled his heart; though I saw he put a constraint upon himself, and endeavoured to assume a deportment suitable to the important and solemn occasion.

After the indissoluble knot was tied, my brother desired Mr Faulkland to retire with him into the next room for a few minutes.

I concluded it was in order to press his departure, and to prevail on him to submit to going without me.

This I found afterwards was the subject of their conversation.

They returned to us in about a quarter of an hour, Mr Faulkland's countenance less embarrassed than it was at going out of the room. On their entering, Mr Price took his leave. My brother addressed Mr Warner and me. Faulkland, said he, is convinced of the necessity there is for his immediately withdrawing from England, and he is determined to depart from hence at three o'clock to-morrow morning; for I would by no means have him leave London by day-light, as we know not who may be on the watch to trace his steps. He has consented that you, sister, should remain behind till Mr Warner's affairs will permit him to conduct you over. In the mean time, Master Faulkland is to be brought from Ireland; and if you should not be ready to depart before his arrival, you may take him over with you to Holland.

Mr Faulkland seemed rather to _suffer_ my brother to make this explanation for him, than to assent chearfully to it. Mr Warner and I however laid hold of it, and immediately entered into discourse on the subject of our domestic concerns, and the measures proper to be observed on so critical an occasion.

Mr Faulkland joined in the conversation with the utmost composure; and to my unspeakable joy, seemed perfectly settled and collected in his mind. I thought indeed he appeared a little constrained, and that he seemed to keep a constant guard over himself, lest he should betray any symptom of a too much heated imagination: but my kinsman afterwards observed with pleasure to me, that this denoted nothing more than a consciousness in Mr Faulkland of the unhappy wandering that had before so much alarmed us all; and into which he was sure there was not the least danger of his relapsing, as his heart was now perfectly at ease.

Mr Faulkland told us he had letters to write to Ireland, which he would dispatch, that he might have nothing to interrupt the few short hours we had to pass together in the evening.

Mr Warner said he had business to do that called him away, but that he would return after dinner: and my brother (that Mr Faulkland might be quite undisturbed) proposed my going home with him, and that we should come back together in the afternoon.

Mr Faulkland did not object to this, and I went with Sir George.

We returned early in the afternoon to Mr Faulkland. As my brother had let his friend into our secret, we passed up stairs without any notice being taken of us.

Mr Faulkland had writ two letters; one of them very long, to Mr Bond, which he gave my brother to read, but I know not the contents of it. The other was to that careful honest servant whom he had mentioned to us, with orders to bring over Master Faulkland with all convenient speed, and put him into Sir George's hand.

Mr Warner but just called in upon us in the evening, he said he had been making the necessary preparations for Mr Faulkland's journey; and that having resolved himself to attend him as far as Harwich, he would, at the hour appointed call on him in a coach, which should carry them a few miles out of town, where the horses were to wait for them.

Worthy, compassionate, and generous kinsman, how I love you for the honest warmth of your heart!

My brother and Mr Faulkland had a great deal of discourse about the necessary measures that were to be taken by us all; and we passed the evening in a kind of chastened satisfaction, which could not arise to happiness from the near prospect we had of parting.

About ten o'clock my brother took an affectionate leave of his friend, he excused himself from accompanying him on his journey, on account of Lady Sarah's not being well.

To see _such_ a parting, would at another time have deeply affected me, but my own hour of separation drew near. It came, and Mr Warner punctual to his time, hurried Mr Faulkland almost by force into the coach, and drove off with him.

I threw myself into a chair which he had ordered for me, and was carried home. I went not to bed; but had recourse to my pen. God preserve my dear fugitive; I can do nothing but weep.

_July 2_

My mind was too much unsettled yesterday to dictate any thing coherent. I am now, thank heaven, more composed. Sir George and Lady Sarah have been with me during the greatest part of the day; both kind and consoling. My brother seems to have all his former affection for me revived in his heart; he is indeed charmed with my justice, as he calls it. Lady Sarah, who at the bottom of her heart is no way concerned about this event, affects however to think as her husband does, and commends me for my generosity.

I feel myself easier in proportion as I think Mr Faulkland gets farther out of the reach of danger. Sir George says by this time he may be on his voyage.

I shall certainly wait till the child arrives, in order to take him with me. My two little girls will be fond of such a brother, for he is a charming boy.

My brother flatters me with a possibility at least of Major Smyth's recovering; and if so, he says that Mr Faulkland may stand his trial for the other accident, as he is in hopes Smyth will not persist in his villainy so far as to add perjury to his other crimes.

I have but little expectations of justice from so bad a man, but I would not discourage my friends in their endeavours to comfort me.

_July 3_

Mr Warner is returned from Harwich, after having seen Mr Faulkland safe on board the packet, and even under sail for Holland.

What a benevolent heart has this good relation of mine! Indeed I dearly love and respect him. His return has revived my spirits, and I begin to lose my fears. He brought me a short letter from Mr Faulkland; short it is, but his heart speaks in every syllable of it. I will not give you the contents, my Cecilia, you will think it too extravagant, too romantic, for a husband to write so to his wife.

_July 6_

I long, yet dread to hear accounts from Ireland. I fear that wretched Smyth is dead. No mail has arrived from thence these eight days. Contrary winds they tell me detain the packets on the other side very often for a fortnight together. If that be so, how fortunate was Mr Faulkland in seizing on a lucky hour for his departure from the Irish shore.

I suppose Mr Bond's family, whom he must have rendered very unhappy, particularly the daughter, are all now his implacable enemies; and are tormenting themselves in being detained from the pursuit of their vengeance. But let them come now when they will, he is far out of the reach of his foes.

I would it were possible for my Cecilia, to arrive in England before my departure for Holland. Indeed, my dear, I shall not be sorry if I am detained from Mr Faulkland, till I have the happiness of first embracing you, as our separation may be afterwards of a long continuance. I shall wait for the arrival of Master Faulkland, and who knows what adverse winds may detain him till your return. O! that I may pass though it be but one day, with the dear companion of my youth before we are again divided!

I will not send this packet off, till I am ready to depart from England, as that will be closing an important period of my life. What would I give that my dearest friend would come, and instead of this tedious narrative which I have written, receive the account from my own lips! If my wishes should not be granted in this, cannot you make Holland your way home? Mr Faulkland purposes staying at the Hague till I go to him.

_July 9_

Cecilia! have I been a murmurer at the decrees of providence? have I been an impious repiner when heaven has poured down its wrath upon my head? if not, why am I marked out for divine vengeance? before I lose my senses, or my life, for both I cannot retain, hear the last act of your friend's tragic story.

My brother called on me this day; he gave me a letter directed to Mr Faulkland, which came under a cover to him. Read it, said he, it is from Ireland, and may contain something material for us to know.

It was from the honest servant Mr Faulkland left behind him. See what he says, and then tell me if I ought to live any longer.

'Honoured Sir,

'I have the happiness to send you a piece of good news, which made
me wish for wings to have flown over to you with it.

'My lady, Heaven be praised, is not dead, nor so much as hurt. I
am thankful for this, Sir, on your account, not her's.

'I don't know what possessed the people at Mr Bond's, to tell me
she was dead; the mistake, to be sure, was occasioned by the great
confusion the family were thrown into, and indeed, from what I
myself saw, I was sure she was actually dead.

'Major Smyth lived 'till the surgeon came; but had been speechless
for two or three hours, and died whilst his wound was probing.

'My lady had only fallen into a fit, and the major having bled
prodigiously, she received a great deal of his blood upon her
linen, and as he afterwards contrived to throw himself on the bed,
which was at some distance from the place where she had fallen, it
gave occasion to Mrs Bond (who was herself the first person that
entered the room, after the sad accident) on finding my lady lying
senseless, pale, and bloody, on the floor, to suppose she had been
killed.

'This alarm ran through the family, and was confirmed to me by
every one in it, as we servants soon quitted the chamber; and the
major himself said, that you had discharged one of the pistols at
your lady, and the other at him.

'I returned to Mr Bond's in the morning, after you were gone off,
to enquire whether Major Smyth was alive or not; he was just then
dead.

'The waiting-maid informed me, that my lady, to their great
surprize, was recovered, having only been in a fainting fit, which
held her above an hour, without her shewing any signs of life; and
that she had fallen from one to another 'till morning: and she
farther said (begging your honour's pardon) it would be no great
matter if she had died in one; for she believed it was for no good
she went into the major's room at that time of the night.

'I staid about the house all the day to pick up what intelligence
I could from the servants. Young Mr Bond, with two or three men,
went to your house, and not finding you there, I suppose, rode in
pursuit of you; but, Heaven be praised, you have escaped their
hands.

'The waiting-maid, who is a very civil young woman, told me, in
the evening, that my lady, being come a little to herself (though
I believe not in her right mind) was informed of the major's
death; at which she was so exceedingly terrified, that finding
herself ill besides, she confessed the whole truth of the matter,
and proved, that the major died with a lie in his mouth: so that I
hope Mr Bond's family will not be so spiteful as to prosecute the
affair any farther.

'My lady was sent home directly in the chariot, as they could not
bear the sight of her any longer in the house. She takes on
mightily; but we all bless ourselves, that she is alive.

'I shall make bold to inclose this, according to your order, to
Sir George Bidulph; and as soon as I receive your commands about
Master, shall make no delay in this unlucky place. I am.

'Honoured Sir,
'Your dutiful and obedient servant,
'FREDERICK HILDY.'

_June 26_

Adieu, my Cecilia, adieu; nothing but my death should close such a scene as this.

Here, to the editor's great disappointment, Mrs Arnold's interesting story broke off; that unhappy lady not having continued her journal any farther.

But as this seemed to be one of the most affecting periods of her life, his curiosity induced him to enquire of the gentleman from whom he received those papers whether he could give him any farther light into her story; as he thought it not improbable that he might have learned, from his mother, some other particulars relating to her.

His friend told him, that he knew his mother had drawn up a narrative of the subsequent remarkable events in the life of Mrs Arnold, at the request of a particular friend; that he had once heard it read; but, as he was then a boy, it made but little impression upon him; that afterwards, when he wanted to have his curiosity gratified, his mother told him, she could not find the manuscript, and feared it was lost. However, he said, he would search her papers and, if he recovered it, it should be at his service.

After some time, the gentleman informed the editor, that he had made the strictest scrutiny into his mother's papers, and could find nothing relative to the subject of Mrs Arnold, excepting a few loose sheets, which seemed to have been the foul copy of the beginning of her narrative; and, at the same time, put them into his hands.

These the editor offers to the publick, as he received them, without any alteration or addition.

CECILIA'S NARRATIVE, &c.

BEING A SUPPLEMENT TO MRS ARNOLD'S JOURNAL

I set out on my return to England, immediately after the receipt of her last journal, the melancholy close of which had exceedingly terrified and afflicted me.

Immediately on my arrival in London, I flew to the dear friend of my heart; she was still at her house, in Pall-mall.

I found the dear Sidney alone, in her bed-chamber. She had been prepared to receive me; but though I had endeavoured to arm myself with resolution for this affecting interview, I was not mistress of myself at the sight of her.

The tears I shed did not spring from that sweet emotion, which long severed friends feel at seeing each other again; I wept in sorrow for the heavy misfortunes of the best of women.

But Mrs Arnold, still herself, and superior to adversity, received me with the tenderest marks of friendship, and with a composure that amazed me.

Piety, meekness, and patience, were ever Mrs Arnold's characteristics; and they now all appeared blended, and so strongly impressed on her beautiful face, that I could not look at her without admiration.

As I was astonished to find her so calm under so trying an affliction, I could not help expressing myself to that purpose; but Mrs Arnold checked me, with this reply: 'I have been set up as a mark, my Cecilia; let me fulfil the intention of my Maker, by shewing a perfect resignation to His will. I hope, my task is almost finished, and that he will soon permit me to return to the dust from which I came.'

Frederick Hildy had arrived from Ireland above a fortnight before, with Master Faulkland, a beautiful child of about five years old. They were both lodged in Mrs Arnold's house.

She told me, that Sir George Bidulph and Mr Warner had set out together for Holland, immediately after the receipt of the letter, which informed them of Mrs Faulkland's being alive.

My brother, said Mrs Arnold, thought it necessary himself to be the bearer of news so fatal in its import to his friend. He hoped besides he should be able to return and stand his trial for having killed Major Smyth, as there is no doubt of his being acquitted; all Mr Bond's family being now convinced, from Mrs Faulkland's own confession, that there was nothing premeditated in this fatal event, and that what Mr Faulkland did, was in defence of his own life.

I have writ, continued she, to Mr Faulkland, to endeavour to console him under our mutual misfortune.

At my request, she shewed me a copy, of this letter; wherein she assured him, she would take the tenderest care of his son, 'till the child could be delivered safe into his hands; and conjured him, for that child's sake, to be careful of his own interest and preservation; adding, that as their ill fated marriage was an absolute secret to every one but the persons immediately concerned, she hoped he would not suffer the thoughts of it to break in upon his future quiet; and concluded with beseeching him to forget her, as they were never more to meet.

This was the substance of what she wrote. There were no murmurings at her fate, no womanish complainings, mixed with the tender, yet noble sentiments of her heart. She endeavoured to conceal her own anguish under the mask of contentment, that Mr Faulkland might the better support this final destruction of all his hopes.

I asked her, whether she had heard since from Mr Faulkland? She told me she had as yet received no answer from him to this letter, but that she had heard severally from Sir George and Mr Warner, who both informed her, that Mr Faulkland, after his first transports of surprize and grief were over, at receiving this new and unexpected blow, had grown more calm, and seemed inclined to return with them to England. Sir George added, in the last letter she had from him, that they only waited 'till Mr Warner had accomplished the business that he had to do in Holland, and hoped, before a fortnight was at an end, to return home, and to have the pleasure of conducting Mr Faulkland back.

It is ten days, continued Mrs Arnold, since I received this account, and I flatter myself, that they may now be on their journey homeward.

Mrs Arnold said, that she waited but for Sir George's return, in order to deliver Master Faulkland into his hands, and that she then meant to retire into the country, with her two children, and Patty, the faithful companion and partner of her grief.

Lady Sarah Bidulph, who would gladly have gone with Sir George to Holland, had been persuaded by him to stay behind, in order to bear his sister company in her affliction; and Mrs Arnold said, she had dedicated much of her time to that friendly purpose.

Her Ladyship came to pay her a visit whilst I was there. I had never seen Lady Sarah before; and we were introduced to each other.

I took my leave of Mrs Arnold, and promised to see her again the next day.

In the morning, as I was preparing to go to her, I received a note from Lady Sarah Bidulph, earnestly requesting the favour of seeing me, at her house, in St James's Square, before I went to Mrs Arnold.

I obeyed this unexpected summons, and immediately waited on her.

I took the liberty, Madam, said she, of desiring to see you here this morning, at Sir George's request: he arrived late last night, and brings most melancholy news from Holland.

Sir George entered the room while she spoke. After the first greeting of friends long parted were over, I am afraid to ask, Sir George, said I, yet am impatient to learn something of Mr Faulkland, your lady has terribly alarmed me; Mr Faulkland is not returned; I dare not enquire the reason. Tears instantly sprung into Sir George's eyes. He returns no more, said he, his remains are soon to be conveyed to England to be laid with his ancestors.

Ah, Sir, cried I, what will poor Mrs Arnold say to this fresh misfortune?

It was on that account Madam, he replied, that we are now requested to speak with you, before you saw my sister. You, who are her bosom friend, can more tenderly disclose this melancholy event than any one. I have not the courage to see her. We must beg of you, dear Madam, to prepare the unhappy Sidney for the news.

I asked him the manner of Mr Faulkland's death. I cannot positively say, answered Sir George, but much I fear he precipitated his own fate.

Mr Warner, or I, constantly staid with him from the time we disclosed the fatal account we brought concerning Mrs Faulkland. Knowing as we did the violence of his temper, we were apprehensive of sudden and dreadful consequences; but he deceived us both; for after the first starts of passion were over, which though they shocked, did not alarm us, as we expected them, he assumed a calm resignation to his fate; and talked with such a rational composure of the strange circumstances of this incident, that we began to entertain hopes, that the efforts of his reason, joined to our constant endeavours to sooth and console him, would in time so far succeed, and though we never expected to see him restored to a tranquil state of mind, we yet flattered ourselves he would submit to life upon such terms as Providence thought fit to impose on him.

I was with him, proceeded Sir George, when he received a letter from my sister. His hands shook so on perceiving by the superscription that it came from her, that he let the letter drop. Read it for me, Bidulph, said he, and tell me how it fares with Mrs Arnold.

I instantly complied with his request. I found by the date of the letter that it had been delayed much longer than it ought to have been, which I immediately observed to him, as he had often expressed his uneasiness at not hearing from my sister.

Mrs Arnold is well, said I, giving him the letter; read what it says, and let her teach you fortitude.

He withdrew to a window to peruse it. After he had read it, I admire your sister's stoicism, said he, stepping back to his chair. This is true philosophy, laying his finger on the letter which he still held in his hand. _Her_ heroic soul is still unmoved, and above the reach of adversity. Happy Mrs Arnold--What a vain fool was I to think that such a mind as _hers_ could be subdued. He paused and seemed for a while buried in thought. Then putting the letter up in his pocket, he began to discourse on some other topic.

We passed the evening together, continued Sir George, and though Faulkland was far from being chearful, I thought he appeared more tranquil than he had done since my arrival.

I talked to him of his returning to England with me. He said with a smile, I think I ought to go if it were for no other reason but that I may have my dust mingled with that of my forefathers; and this office, Bidulph, I expect from you, if you should outlive me.

I laughed at him, and said I thought he had a much more material reason that pressed his return.

Your estate, said I, is unsettled; and if you were to die abroad in the predicament in which you now stand, what is to become of your son?

I have already done for my son, said he, all that I thought in justice was in my power to do: I have long ago settled my personal fortune on him, that in case my next heirs should on account of the illegitimacy of his birth, claim the family estate, he may have a handsome support without it.

And indeed I never wished to debar my lawful heirs in favour of this child; though I love him tenderly, and they are worthless people, whom I despise, and with whom I never had any intercourse.

I replied, if that were so, as the manner of the child's birth was a secret, I wished he might, undisturbed, inherit his father's fortune, when he should come to pay the last debt to nature.

He answered, where such a vast property was at stake, there would not be people wanting whose interest would engage them to discover the secret; and he doubted not but the irregularity of his wife's conduct, had already occasioned enquiries to be made.

Supposing, said I, you had had another son by Mrs Faulkland since your marriage--as you could have no objection to the bequeathing your fortune to him, would it not have appeared strange in the eyes of the world that you should disinherit your eldest son.

It might have appeared so, said he, but I certainly should have done it: and for that reason, as I have no child but him, I have made such a disposition of my fortune as I now tell you. If I live, I may increase my son's patrimony; if not, he must be contented with that which I have bequeathed to him, and let my kindred scramble for the rest.

We staid together till it was late; he discoursed on a variety of subjects, but mentioned not my sister's name during the whole time.

I thought I left him well, and his mind tolerably composed. We were to set out on our return in six days; but an account was brought to me in the morning, that Mr Faulkland was found dead in his bed.

There were no symptoms discovered on the body that could let us into the occasion of his death; but as my own fears suggested too much, I chose not to be particular in my enquiries. Wishing rather that his fatal story should be buried in silence.

Mr Warner found that his affairs were likely to delay him longer than the time proposed; and as I had nothing farther to detain me in Holland, I set out the day after my unfortunate friend's death, leaving to Mr Warner, the care of conveying his remains to England, agreeably to the desire he had expressed, which I now considered as his last injunction laid on me.

Thus, proceeded Sir George, by a series of fatal events, each of which was occasioned by motives in themselves laudable, has one of the bravest and most noble-minded men on earth been cut off in the prime of his youth--O! Faulkland, why did you suffer that gallant spirit to be vanquished?--

Sir George's emotion stopped his farther speech, I was too much affected to say any thing to him, but took a hasty leave of Lady Sarah, in order to go to Mrs Arnold.

As soon as I entered my friend's room Cecilia, said she, if your countenance be as faithful an interpreter of your mind as it used to be, you have some thing disastrous to relate; you may say anything, misfortune and I have been so familiar, I shall not shrink as its approach.

Sir George is returned, I replied, you will see him to-day.

Is he come alone, she asked? Alone, I replied. You but repeat my words, Cecilia, without adding any thing from yourself. Shall I interpret the meaning of that mournful echo? Mr Faulkland no longer lives!

I was silent--Oh I knew him too well, said she, raising her voice with energy, to think he would survive this last blow.

His death was natural, said I, for any thing that appears to the contrary. God be praised for that, cried Mrs Arnold! _If_ so, I am satisfied that he is at peace.

She then enquired after Mr Warner, and her brother, without making any farther mention of Mr Faulkland.

Whilst we were in discourse, Master Faulkland ran into the room. He had been at play with the two little Miss Arnolds, who were in pursuit of him, And he flew to Mrs Arnold to hide him. She folded him tenderly in her arms; then turning to me, Look at this boy, said she, he is the perfect image of his father.

When am I to go to my papa, cried the child, as he hung round her neck? This innocent unexpected demand quite vanquished Mrs Arnold's fortitude. She set him down without being able to answer his question, then said, Excuse me, my Cecilia, I would wish to be alone for to-day. It was not yet a season to administer consolation, and I withdrew.

She staid in London but two days after this; when, as she had before resolved, she retired to an estate in Buckinghamshire, which her kinsman had purchased and settled on her for ever.

With her brother's consent, she took Master Faulkland with her, and prevailed on Mr Price to accompany her into the country, to whom she committed the care of the child's education.

Mr Warner, whom she had acquainted by letter with her intention, approved of the step she had taken. He returned to England in about three weeks after her departure from her house in town, which she had left for his reception just as he had fitted it up for her.

Before I accompany Mrs Arnold into her solitude, I shall just briefly mention some other persons who were connected with her story.

The relations of Mr Faulkland, as he had foreseen, claimed his estate, and at length obtained it, the illegitimacy of the child being proved.

The wretched Mrs Faulkland, abandoned and despised, returned to England; but as she was there hated and shunned by every one, she remained in obscurity for a few years, and then died unpitied and unlamented.

I now return to Mrs Arnold, who, settled in her quiet retreat in the country, it might be hoped would have passed the remainder of her days undisturbed by any new calamity.

That only source of true heroism of soul, religion, had all along supported, and prevented her from sinking under the most trying afflictions. Many and bitter were the sufferings she had already endured; but she was, to use her own words, _Set up as a mark_; and the deep afflictions that still pursued her, and clouded even her latter days with misfortunes, may serve to shew that it is not _here_ that true virtue is to look for its reward. I saw her at a time when this reflection, as it had been her chief, so was it her last and only consolation.

Possessed as she was of an admirable understanding, and an enlarged mind, in the deepest solitude she had always resources of entertainment within herself. Her natural disposition ever sweet and complying, was improved by her sufferings into a patience very rare in woman; and a resignation imbibed at first from a rigid education, was heightened by religion into an almost saint-like meekness and humility.

I shall pass over the first ten years of her retirement, in which nothing material happened but the marriage of the amiable Patty Main to a gentleman of a large estate, and the death of her worthy kinsman Mr Warner, who bequeathed her his whole fortune.

Miss Arnold, her eldest daughter, was now something more than fifteen, and fulfilled the promise her childhood gave, of her being a perfect beauty, Miss Cecilia was about a year younger, and though not so handsome as her sister, was accounted one of the finest young ladies of her time.

With what delight have I seen this excellent mother, while these two charming young creatures were all attention, relate to them the extraordinary and affecting incidents of her life.

This, said she, I do, not as a murmurer at my fate, nor to move your pity at my misfortunes, but to teach you by my example, that there is no situation in life exempt from trouble. It found _me_ under the tender care of the best of parents, it pursued me into my husband's house. In my virgin state, when I was a wife, and in my widowhood, I was equally persecuted.

Poverty, I once thought, would have exempted me from every ill, but what its own hand inflicted; and had it remained my companion, the bitterest misfortune of my love would have been prevented; for, if wealth had not accompanied my hand, the world could not have persuaded me to yield it to Mr Faulkland.

Do not therefore pride yourselves on the great fortunes you are likely to possess: I have received no other satisfaction in mine, than what arose from the benefits I have conferred on others.

By such lessons as these, did this tender parent endeavour to fortify their young minds against the vicissitudes of fortune, and to teach them not to place their confidence in riches.

She dwelt so often upon this theme, that she seemed to have a presentiment of those evils, which were now ready to pour in like a torrent upon her.

Gracious Heaven! how inscrutable are thy ways! Her affluent fortune, the very circumstance which seemed to promise her, in the eve of life, some compensation for the miseries she had endured in her early days, now proved the source of new and dreadful calamities to her, which, by involving the unhappy daughters of an unhappy mother in scenes of the most exquisite distress, cut off from her even the last resource of hope in this life, and rendered the close of her history still more....

* * * * *

Here the lady's narrative breaks off, and the editor, not having it in his power, after the most diligent enquiry, to recover any more of the manuscript, is, to his great mortification, compelled to offer this fragment.

_The END of the_ THIRD VOLUME.

Transcriber's Notes

Spelling varies and is, generally, retained. However, there were a number of errors which involved transposition of characters, as well as missing or redundant characters which were most likely made by the printer. These have been checked against a contemporary edition, and corrected where necessary. The phrase 'to bed' is frequently, though not always, hyphenated as 'to-bed'.

Proper names are frequently elided with a dash, of varying lengths. All have been rendered as '----' (e.g. V----'s).

p. 4 which [in/it] inculcates Corrected.

p. 22 since you went abroad[,/.] Corrected.

p. 25 a[im/mi]able of men Transposition corrected.

p. 30 things _are_ b[r]ought Removed.

p. 37 You[r] unknown friend Added.

p. 41 [t/T]hat for his part Corrected.

p. 54 Bi[d]dulph Removed.

p. 56 (begging their pardons[)./,)] Corrected.

p. 77 unluck[l]y Removed.

p. 86 likewise[s] Removed.

p. 96 the death of her hu[bs/sb]and Transposition corrected.

p. 118 conn[n]ections Removed.

p. 120 to dine wi[ht/th] Transposition corrected.

p. 124 I will swear your hu[bs/sb]and Transposition corrected.

p. 127 requ[i]ring Added.

p. 134 r[e]gret Added.
h[i]mself Added.

p. 136 [i]n her eyes Added.

p. 148 w[i]th sorrow and remorse Added.

p. 154 [']Now, as Faulkland Added opening quote.

p. 165 Our route was settled[;]: Removed.
I told her[e] Removed.

p. 176 dis[t]interested Removed.

p. 180 threatened me with death[./,] I
should have Corrected.

p. 181 sailing w[ti/it]h an imperial port Transposition corrected.

p. 183 qui[et/te] against my inclination Transposition corrected.

p. 192 determ[in]ed Added.

p. 200 poss[s]ession Removed.

p. 203 physic[i]an Added.

p. 209 li[t]tle gleam of pleasure Added.

p. 214 be[ ]sure Missing space added.
compassion[a]te Added.

p. 219 intreaties[s] Removed.
seemed to app[r]ove Added.

p. 228 drank a dish of coffee, but [eat]
nothing _sic._
in our power.['] Added missing quote.

p. 234 you and your hu[bs/sb]and Transposition corrected.

p. 237 th[a]t looked like a slight Added.

p. 238 mort[g]age Added.
affir[m]ative Added.

p. 239 pass[i]onately Added.

p. 240 thought _pretended_ illness[);/,)] Corrected.

p. 254 satisfact[i]on Added.

p. 258 oc[c]asion Added.

p. 269 ladysh[i]p Added.

p. 271 conversat[i]on Added.

p. 283 should lady Bidulp[o]h Removed.

p. 289 f[ma/am]ily Transposition corrected.

p. 290 possib[i]lity Added.

p. 293 ass[u/i]duity Corrected.

p. 295 [']You have now Added opening quote.

p. 303 [ow/wo]men Transposition corrected.

p. 307 wor[l]dly attachments Added.

p. 315 [']A just reparation Added opening quote.

p. 324 depart[a]ure Removed.

p. 326 behav[i]our Added.

p. 339 I had them both brought [it/in] Corrected.

p. 344 pr[ia/ai]se Transposition corrected.

p. 365 circumsta[cn/nc]es Transposition corrected.

p. 378 man[n] Removed.

p. 385 some[ht/th]ing Transposition corrected.

p. 388 to [live/leave] my children greatly
provided for Corrected.

p. 391 exc[e]pted Added.

p. 393 three or four [M/m]onths Corrected.

p. 411 When [h/w]e arrived in London Corrected.
I am of your mind, replied your
brother[?/;] Corrected.

p. 415 despa[i]r Added.

p. 425 I dare not[,] enquire Removed.

p. 426 stoi[s]cism Corrected.

p. 429 committ[e]d Added.