LETTERXXXVI.From the same to the same.Asyou are become reasonable, Lucy, I will tell you that Doctor Douglas is still of opinion, that I am better in the house than I should be by another buffeting from the north wind, to which he principally ascribes my late indisposition. My saline draughts, however, have now given place to orange jelly, which, as it pleases thepet, Mrs. Allen makes according to her recipe. She left me this morning to replenish her store, and Mrs. Warner’s little parlour being convenient for the purpose, the cookery was done there; the kind hearted Mrs. Warner aiding and assisting. “I wish,” said she, “I could persuade my lady to exchange her taste for rum and water, for this pleasant and refreshing jelly; I am sure it would be better for her: she is in a constant fever; and what with her poor leg, and her fretting, she is hourly sinking.” Mrs. Allen expressed her concern. “You would indeed pity her,” replied Warner, “if you knew all: she is, at times, the most miserable creature in the world; and between ourselves, I think she is losing her senses. That wasa warning voice, Mrs. Allen, that reached her from the poor captain, the last time he was in this house, or I am much mistaken. I have heard that Miss Flint was very unkind to her sister, Mrs. Howard, and the captain roused hersleeping conscience. I have lived with her nine years, and I can safely say that she is a changed woman in less than nine weeks. She has of late taken it into her head to send me to bed before her, and I hear her for hours after walking about her room. Within the last fortnight she has been writing all day, and rummaging in her cabinet for letters, which she burns by dozens: then again, her temper madam, is now quite altered; for I do assure you she is as patient as a lamb! and if you could but see her knee, you would never forget it. I am sure it makes me tremble to see how she suffers.” “Why do you not persuade her to have more able advice than her apothecary’s?” observed Mrs. Allen. “Bless you, my dear madam!” replied she, “Lady Maclairn has almost on her bended knees begged her to consult Doctor Douglas, with whom she is so pleased; but she will not consent. She says, ‘Do not urge me;you know, Harriet, that no doctor can cure me. I must bear with patience this visitation of the Almighty,’ and then she weeps for hours.”You know Mrs Allen, and you will not be surprised to hear that she has seen the miserable invalid this morning; whom she found much more changed than even Warner’s report had led her to expect. To-morrow I am to dine with the Heartleys: my doctor is the promoter of this enlargement, and will be here to see me properly equipped for the coach. I mean to be docile, for I expected this morning that Mrs. Patty, our maid, would have laid violent hands on me, for daring to cross the hall without clogs and my shawl. Be cheerful, my Lucy. I have to write to our Horace: and remember when you write from Heathcot, the words of the poet: “Where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise.” Not a word of mydreadful scarlet fever, He might fancy fiction were truth, and that your Rachel Cowley had really been in danger of death, and of thus cheating himof a wife to rule.Your’s, as truly ashis,R. Cowley.P. S. The unavoidable delay of my friend’s dispatches permits me to add to the bulk of my letter. Leaving to the lovers of the pathetic and sublime at the abbey to describe my “secret interesting languor,” and “fascinating” pale face, I shall simply tell you, that what with a hearty dinner on Mrs. Wilson’s boiled fowls, and as hearty a welcome, they sent me home with a different complexion, and as blythe as a bird.On entering the parlour, we found Lady Maclairn alone; and for once counterfeiting failed, for her eyes were swoln with weeping. Sir Murdoch with tender alarm asked, “What had happened to distress her.” “Wherefore do you ask that question, sir?” demanded Malcolm, with emotion. “Is it not always from one and the same cause that my mother stands indebted for her trials of patience?” “If you mean poor Lucretia,” answered she with mildness, “you wrong her, at least on this occasion, for I have scarcely seen her to-day: she was engaged in writing. But what will you say, when I tell you that I have to thankMiss Cowleyfor my red eyes?” She smiled affectionately on me, and added that I had left the new play of theStrangerin her way, “and if such be Kotsebue’s influence on the passions,” observed she, “in a foreign garb, what must be the effect he produces in his own language! I have been deeply interested in the piece.” “I lose my patience continually,” replied I, “when I think of the hours of comfort and amusement you give up to the silly resentment of an unreasonable woman. Why do you not cease being astrangerto your neighbours? Mrs. Heartley is formed for your friend.” “I am never so happy, asat home,” replied she, interrupting me. “I have my blessings under this roof, habit has endeared it to me; and at present, Heaven be praised! it is my own fault if I be not happy.” She fondly leaned on her husband’s shoulder as she said this. Malcolm placing himself in the vacant space on the other side on the sofa, observed, with seriousness, that contentment, at least, was in her reach; for that Mr. Wilson had secured the refusal of theWereland Farm;and could either purchase the estate, or have it on a long lease. “I am rejoiced to hear you are likely to succeed,” replied she, “for from your description of its beauties it must be an enviable spot.” “To me it would be aparadiseunder any description,” replied the son, “could I promise myself to see you and my father inmates with me there. A cottage with mud walls and independence is all I wish.” “You are right, my dear Malcolm,” answered she, with dignity. “But do not imagine your mother is a slave beneath this roof. You give to the little vexations of my life, much more importance than I do. Poor Lucretia may, it is true, sometimes appear to you capricious and imposing, and thus disturb the serenity you wish me; but I am weak whenever this happens, for I know she loves me; and whilst she lives I shall never have a wish to quit Tarefield.” “Would to God, then, she were dead!” said Malcolm. “You would be more charitable,” answered she, mildly, “did you better understand her present condition.” “Perhaps I might,” replied he, “and wish her reformation, could I believe the Ethiopian could change his skin.” “There needs no miracle to effect a reformation of our tempers, Malcolm,” said she gravely; “the attempt is arduous, the path is difficult which leads to repentance; but it is not inaccessible; and if you knew the present difficulties of this poor woman, labouring under sickness and dejection of mind, you would not wish that the only friend she hason earthshould quit her.” Malcolm was silenced; and if such be the motives of Lady Maclairn’s conductIought to be silenced.At supper Mrs. Allen joined us; she had prevailed on the invalid to call in Doctor Douglass, who to-morrow is to meet her former physician,a Doctor Tufton. Her account of Miss Flint softened the good Baronet; but I perceived that Malcolm’s prejudices were unconquered. Mrs. Allen tells me this woman is dreadfully ill; and suffers excruciating pain from the tumour on her knee. Like Malcolm my hour of conversion is not yet arrived; and if pain and sickness are necessary to her salvation, why should I grieve? Yet one does not like to hear of remedies that are worse than horse-whipping. Good night, my dear girl! Allen is weary, and I am on my good behaviour still; for Douglass is offended by my late hours; and swears he will write to Mr. Hardcastle and prevent your letters, “tempting me to evil.” Tell Mary every one here loves her, and that her sister boasts of her. You will add whatever will content you to the name ofRachel Cowley.The reader is now to be informed that Miss Cowley’s pen was for more than a month suspended by a visit which Miss Hardcastle and Miss Howard made at the Abbey. The termination of Miss Cowley’s minority, as settled by law, put her into possession of her grandmother’s fortune; and counsellor Steadman was induced, partly with a view to that business, and partly to consult his fair client in respect to a letter written by Mr. Flamall on the subject of his nephew’s secret marriage, to pay her a short visit. The young ladies were therefore conducted by him to Mr. Wilson’s; and their escort home was the counsellor’s friend, whose house at Bishop’s Auckland was his abode during his stay.It appears that Mr. Flamall acknowledged that the restrictive clauses in Mr. Cowley’s will relative to his daughter’s marrying M. Philip Flint were rendered null and void by the impossibility of her acceding to the conditions; but he insisted on his right to the exercise of his office not only as this related to the management of her property, but also to her choice of a husband. With many law arguments he proved that Miss Cowley could not marry without his consent till she had attained her twenty-fifth year, without incurring the disability declared in her father’s will for her unconditional possession of his property. “You, Sir,” continues he, “will, as a professional man, see, that, were I more disposed than I am to forego a trust committed to me by a friend whom I still revere, the law would oblige me to do my duty. Were it not so, believe me I would cheerfully relinquish an office which neither suits my health nor gratifies my feelings. I am not ignorant of Miss Cowley’s unjust suspicions of myhonour, nor of the prejudicies she has infused into the minds of her friends. My conduct shall be a full refutation of the charges she has brought against me; charges which originated from the disappointment of her romantic views; and from too implicit a confidence in those to whose care she had been incautiously trusted.” He next entered into the detail of his nephew’s ingratitude, &c. but as the reader is prepared for this subject and, it may be, disposed in favour of youthful indiscretion, rather than to sympathise in Mr. Flamal’s mortifications, I shall pass over this part of the letter, which concludes with mentioning his intention of conducting the two young Cowleys to England in the following spring, in order to place them in a more suitable situation, than with their mother, at Mr. Dalrymple’s.Miss Cowley’s friends still adhered to their first opinion, and Mr. Flamall was suffered to remain in his post without other marks of distrust than such as the counsellor’s vigilance and the attention of Miss Cowley’s friend, Mr. Oliver Flint, gave to his mode of conduct. But Mr. Flamall wanted not for acuteness; and, foiled in his ambition, he thought it prudent to secure a safe retreat. Fortunately for himself, as well as for Miss Cowley’s interest, he found for once, that “honesty was the best policy:” that by employing his talents and his diligence for the benefit of the estates he might succeed in gaining a good report, and the continuance of an employment which was advantageous and respectable.Sir Murdoch during this term of jubilee, as it might be called at Tarefield, found other faces to admire as well as Miss Cowley’s. His contentment rose to cheerfulness, and in the enjoyment of a society whose attention and solicitude were given to please and amuse him, he so entirely gained the advantage over his habits of retirement and his dejection of mind, that in Miss Cowley’s words, “she had ceased to love him, for he had the nerves and activity of a fox-hunter.” Miss Flint’s declining health and spirits were the two ostensible apologies for Lady Maclairn’s taking no part in these hours of cheerfulness and social ease. She succeeded in her request that Miss Hardcastle would divide her time between the Abbey and the Hall; and Lucy, with a candour and gentleness so peculiarly her own, was not only charmed with her, but with unceasing labour endeavoured to remove from her friend the prejudices she entertained to her disadvantage. Mrs. Allen, ever on the side of charity, took up Miss Hardcastle’s arguments; and Miss Cowley, with her natural frankness, acknowledged that her being Mr. Flamall’s sister might have biassed her judgment. Some steps were taken to produce a reconciliation between the captain and Miss Flint: these were made without his knowledge, for Miss Flint refused to see her niece; and Lady Maclairn judged it improper to urge her request; as it appeared the subject distressed her, and increased her melancholy.The departure of the young ladies in the beginning of June, again leaves me to my allotted task; and my readers to the gratification of their curiosity.
LETTERXXXVI.
From the same to the same.
Asyou are become reasonable, Lucy, I will tell you that Doctor Douglas is still of opinion, that I am better in the house than I should be by another buffeting from the north wind, to which he principally ascribes my late indisposition. My saline draughts, however, have now given place to orange jelly, which, as it pleases thepet, Mrs. Allen makes according to her recipe. She left me this morning to replenish her store, and Mrs. Warner’s little parlour being convenient for the purpose, the cookery was done there; the kind hearted Mrs. Warner aiding and assisting. “I wish,” said she, “I could persuade my lady to exchange her taste for rum and water, for this pleasant and refreshing jelly; I am sure it would be better for her: she is in a constant fever; and what with her poor leg, and her fretting, she is hourly sinking.” Mrs. Allen expressed her concern. “You would indeed pity her,” replied Warner, “if you knew all: she is, at times, the most miserable creature in the world; and between ourselves, I think she is losing her senses. That wasa warning voice, Mrs. Allen, that reached her from the poor captain, the last time he was in this house, or I am much mistaken. I have heard that Miss Flint was very unkind to her sister, Mrs. Howard, and the captain roused hersleeping conscience. I have lived with her nine years, and I can safely say that she is a changed woman in less than nine weeks. She has of late taken it into her head to send me to bed before her, and I hear her for hours after walking about her room. Within the last fortnight she has been writing all day, and rummaging in her cabinet for letters, which she burns by dozens: then again, her temper madam, is now quite altered; for I do assure you she is as patient as a lamb! and if you could but see her knee, you would never forget it. I am sure it makes me tremble to see how she suffers.” “Why do you not persuade her to have more able advice than her apothecary’s?” observed Mrs. Allen. “Bless you, my dear madam!” replied she, “Lady Maclairn has almost on her bended knees begged her to consult Doctor Douglas, with whom she is so pleased; but she will not consent. She says, ‘Do not urge me;you know, Harriet, that no doctor can cure me. I must bear with patience this visitation of the Almighty,’ and then she weeps for hours.”
You know Mrs Allen, and you will not be surprised to hear that she has seen the miserable invalid this morning; whom she found much more changed than even Warner’s report had led her to expect. To-morrow I am to dine with the Heartleys: my doctor is the promoter of this enlargement, and will be here to see me properly equipped for the coach. I mean to be docile, for I expected this morning that Mrs. Patty, our maid, would have laid violent hands on me, for daring to cross the hall without clogs and my shawl. Be cheerful, my Lucy. I have to write to our Horace: and remember when you write from Heathcot, the words of the poet: “Where ignorance is bliss ’tis folly to be wise.” Not a word of mydreadful scarlet fever, He might fancy fiction were truth, and that your Rachel Cowley had really been in danger of death, and of thus cheating himof a wife to rule.
Your’s, as truly ashis,
R. Cowley.
P. S. The unavoidable delay of my friend’s dispatches permits me to add to the bulk of my letter. Leaving to the lovers of the pathetic and sublime at the abbey to describe my “secret interesting languor,” and “fascinating” pale face, I shall simply tell you, that what with a hearty dinner on Mrs. Wilson’s boiled fowls, and as hearty a welcome, they sent me home with a different complexion, and as blythe as a bird.
On entering the parlour, we found Lady Maclairn alone; and for once counterfeiting failed, for her eyes were swoln with weeping. Sir Murdoch with tender alarm asked, “What had happened to distress her.” “Wherefore do you ask that question, sir?” demanded Malcolm, with emotion. “Is it not always from one and the same cause that my mother stands indebted for her trials of patience?” “If you mean poor Lucretia,” answered she with mildness, “you wrong her, at least on this occasion, for I have scarcely seen her to-day: she was engaged in writing. But what will you say, when I tell you that I have to thankMiss Cowleyfor my red eyes?” She smiled affectionately on me, and added that I had left the new play of theStrangerin her way, “and if such be Kotsebue’s influence on the passions,” observed she, “in a foreign garb, what must be the effect he produces in his own language! I have been deeply interested in the piece.” “I lose my patience continually,” replied I, “when I think of the hours of comfort and amusement you give up to the silly resentment of an unreasonable woman. Why do you not cease being astrangerto your neighbours? Mrs. Heartley is formed for your friend.” “I am never so happy, asat home,” replied she, interrupting me. “I have my blessings under this roof, habit has endeared it to me; and at present, Heaven be praised! it is my own fault if I be not happy.” She fondly leaned on her husband’s shoulder as she said this. Malcolm placing himself in the vacant space on the other side on the sofa, observed, with seriousness, that contentment, at least, was in her reach; for that Mr. Wilson had secured the refusal of theWereland Farm;and could either purchase the estate, or have it on a long lease. “I am rejoiced to hear you are likely to succeed,” replied she, “for from your description of its beauties it must be an enviable spot.” “To me it would be aparadiseunder any description,” replied the son, “could I promise myself to see you and my father inmates with me there. A cottage with mud walls and independence is all I wish.” “You are right, my dear Malcolm,” answered she, with dignity. “But do not imagine your mother is a slave beneath this roof. You give to the little vexations of my life, much more importance than I do. Poor Lucretia may, it is true, sometimes appear to you capricious and imposing, and thus disturb the serenity you wish me; but I am weak whenever this happens, for I know she loves me; and whilst she lives I shall never have a wish to quit Tarefield.” “Would to God, then, she were dead!” said Malcolm. “You would be more charitable,” answered she, mildly, “did you better understand her present condition.” “Perhaps I might,” replied he, “and wish her reformation, could I believe the Ethiopian could change his skin.” “There needs no miracle to effect a reformation of our tempers, Malcolm,” said she gravely; “the attempt is arduous, the path is difficult which leads to repentance; but it is not inaccessible; and if you knew the present difficulties of this poor woman, labouring under sickness and dejection of mind, you would not wish that the only friend she hason earthshould quit her.” Malcolm was silenced; and if such be the motives of Lady Maclairn’s conductIought to be silenced.
At supper Mrs. Allen joined us; she had prevailed on the invalid to call in Doctor Douglass, who to-morrow is to meet her former physician,a Doctor Tufton. Her account of Miss Flint softened the good Baronet; but I perceived that Malcolm’s prejudices were unconquered. Mrs. Allen tells me this woman is dreadfully ill; and suffers excruciating pain from the tumour on her knee. Like Malcolm my hour of conversion is not yet arrived; and if pain and sickness are necessary to her salvation, why should I grieve? Yet one does not like to hear of remedies that are worse than horse-whipping. Good night, my dear girl! Allen is weary, and I am on my good behaviour still; for Douglass is offended by my late hours; and swears he will write to Mr. Hardcastle and prevent your letters, “tempting me to evil.” Tell Mary every one here loves her, and that her sister boasts of her. You will add whatever will content you to the name of
Rachel Cowley.
The reader is now to be informed that Miss Cowley’s pen was for more than a month suspended by a visit which Miss Hardcastle and Miss Howard made at the Abbey. The termination of Miss Cowley’s minority, as settled by law, put her into possession of her grandmother’s fortune; and counsellor Steadman was induced, partly with a view to that business, and partly to consult his fair client in respect to a letter written by Mr. Flamall on the subject of his nephew’s secret marriage, to pay her a short visit. The young ladies were therefore conducted by him to Mr. Wilson’s; and their escort home was the counsellor’s friend, whose house at Bishop’s Auckland was his abode during his stay.
It appears that Mr. Flamall acknowledged that the restrictive clauses in Mr. Cowley’s will relative to his daughter’s marrying M. Philip Flint were rendered null and void by the impossibility of her acceding to the conditions; but he insisted on his right to the exercise of his office not only as this related to the management of her property, but also to her choice of a husband. With many law arguments he proved that Miss Cowley could not marry without his consent till she had attained her twenty-fifth year, without incurring the disability declared in her father’s will for her unconditional possession of his property. “You, Sir,” continues he, “will, as a professional man, see, that, were I more disposed than I am to forego a trust committed to me by a friend whom I still revere, the law would oblige me to do my duty. Were it not so, believe me I would cheerfully relinquish an office which neither suits my health nor gratifies my feelings. I am not ignorant of Miss Cowley’s unjust suspicions of myhonour, nor of the prejudicies she has infused into the minds of her friends. My conduct shall be a full refutation of the charges she has brought against me; charges which originated from the disappointment of her romantic views; and from too implicit a confidence in those to whose care she had been incautiously trusted.” He next entered into the detail of his nephew’s ingratitude, &c. but as the reader is prepared for this subject and, it may be, disposed in favour of youthful indiscretion, rather than to sympathise in Mr. Flamal’s mortifications, I shall pass over this part of the letter, which concludes with mentioning his intention of conducting the two young Cowleys to England in the following spring, in order to place them in a more suitable situation, than with their mother, at Mr. Dalrymple’s.
Miss Cowley’s friends still adhered to their first opinion, and Mr. Flamall was suffered to remain in his post without other marks of distrust than such as the counsellor’s vigilance and the attention of Miss Cowley’s friend, Mr. Oliver Flint, gave to his mode of conduct. But Mr. Flamall wanted not for acuteness; and, foiled in his ambition, he thought it prudent to secure a safe retreat. Fortunately for himself, as well as for Miss Cowley’s interest, he found for once, that “honesty was the best policy:” that by employing his talents and his diligence for the benefit of the estates he might succeed in gaining a good report, and the continuance of an employment which was advantageous and respectable.
Sir Murdoch during this term of jubilee, as it might be called at Tarefield, found other faces to admire as well as Miss Cowley’s. His contentment rose to cheerfulness, and in the enjoyment of a society whose attention and solicitude were given to please and amuse him, he so entirely gained the advantage over his habits of retirement and his dejection of mind, that in Miss Cowley’s words, “she had ceased to love him, for he had the nerves and activity of a fox-hunter.” Miss Flint’s declining health and spirits were the two ostensible apologies for Lady Maclairn’s taking no part in these hours of cheerfulness and social ease. She succeeded in her request that Miss Hardcastle would divide her time between the Abbey and the Hall; and Lucy, with a candour and gentleness so peculiarly her own, was not only charmed with her, but with unceasing labour endeavoured to remove from her friend the prejudices she entertained to her disadvantage. Mrs. Allen, ever on the side of charity, took up Miss Hardcastle’s arguments; and Miss Cowley, with her natural frankness, acknowledged that her being Mr. Flamall’s sister might have biassed her judgment. Some steps were taken to produce a reconciliation between the captain and Miss Flint: these were made without his knowledge, for Miss Flint refused to see her niece; and Lady Maclairn judged it improper to urge her request; as it appeared the subject distressed her, and increased her melancholy.
The departure of the young ladies in the beginning of June, again leaves me to my allotted task; and my readers to the gratification of their curiosity.