John Campbell continued much pleased with his situation, and all his leisure hours were spent with Mrs. Meridith and Anna, if they were at home; and when they were not, Syphax and Bella were his companions. As he was known to be countenanced by Mrs. Meridith, he would have been invited wherever she was, had not his father positively forbade it; and as Mr.Mansell's was a very domestic family, he was not without agreeable society in their house. Whenever they dined at Mrs. Meridith's he was of the party, and joined what little company they had at home; and this was all the introduction to the worldJohn met with; nor did he wish for more, as the habits of industry in which he was brought up, made him attentive to business; and he was very desirous of shewing his father that the money advanced for him would not be thrown away.
Anna became acquainted with several young people in the town, some of whom she found could be pleasing companions, when the conversation took a different turn than the amusements of the preceding evening; while others could talk of nothing else.
There was only one family who were of equal consequence in the neighbourhood with Mrs. Meridith, but of very different sentiments; and with these Anna could not converse as freely as with the rest of her acquaintance. The story of her birth Mrs. Meridith had not endeavoured to conceal; but it did not appear to affect the behaviour of any one, except the Miss Hunts, who, being distantly allied to nobility, could notbear the idea of a plebeian's daughter being on a footing with themselves.
"Her father was nobody," said they to those within their circle, "and I have heard that he is even now a common beggar; and Mrs. Meridith's choosing to adopt her for a daughter, is no reason she should force her upon all her acquaintance."
"She certainly is a very romantic woman; but my mamma says, and I think so too," said the eldest Miss Hunt, "that as she was so fond of the farmers, and country people, she had better have continued among them; and not, after confining herself to their society for ten or twelve years, have come forth again, with an attempt to introduce one oftheirfamily into the world, whom they say she has educated with all the fine sentiments and benevolent ideas which she herself possesses."
Some of Anna's friends now endeavoured to take her part, by saying she was verywell-bred, and had a good understanding; and that she was not at all vain of Mrs. Meridith's favours.
"I wonder at that," said the young lady, "for mamma says when she called at Mrs. Meridith's, after she had taken her, there was nothing talked of but thelittle Anna. Mrs. Meridith did not return mamma's call for nearly a twelvemonth afterwards; and refused every invitation which mamma sent her; so much taken up with the education of her darling, I suppose, and she has now brought her forth to astonish society."
Those of Miss Hunt's party who wished to please her, laughed at this sally of wit, and those of Anna's friends left them, to join her and Mrs. Meridith, who were at another part of the room.
It was not long before Anna perceived some of her acquaintance change theirbehaviourtowards her, for Miss Hunt was of too much consequence not to have heropinion regarded, by those who expected more entertainments at the house of her parents, than at Mrs. Meridith's; whom they doubted not would soon return to Rosewood, and there continue the same secluded life she had lately lived: so that Miss Hunt's party enlarged, while Anna's lessened; nor did she continue ignorant of the cause. One of her young friends, who still regarded her as worthy notice, took an opportunity to hint at what Miss Hunt had said; nor did Anna affect to misunderstand her.
"I know," said she, "that I am indebted to Mrs. Meridith's kindness for every advantage I possess, and that I have no claim to the title of her daughter; my birth was obscure, and my father, I fear, little worthy of that name; but my mother deserved a better fate, and her family was respected by every one, though they are in humble life, and the more so, for not wishing to step out of it. My uncle, whosesentiments would do honour to the highest station, was a father to me, till Mrs. Meridith took me under her care, when I was too young to solicit such favour, or even to think of it; nor have I used any arts to have it continued; but the sense I have of her kindness ought to make me grateful; nor can I think my whole life spent in promoting her happiness too great a return."
"Are your parents both dead?" asked her friend.
"My mother is," said Anna, "and I have reason to think my father also, as he has not been heard of since I was born: but it would give me great satisfaction to known he was become a better man; and then, let his situation be ever so poor, it would be my pleasure, as well as my duty, to assist him, as far as is in my power."
"You are certainly an extraordinary girl," returned the young lady, "but should not you be ashamed to find him a beggar?"
"Not unless his own ill conduct had made him so," replied Anna, "but if unavoidable poverty, or ill health, had reduced him to that state, he should not be a beggar long."
"Mrs. Meridith wouldprevent that," said the other.
"I have no claim upon her, as I said before," returned Anna, "and her kindness to me is no reason she should extend her benevolence to my father; though she never sees any body in want without relieving them. But the education she has given me, would enable me to gain a support for him; and inthislight shewouldprevent it."
"Well, I must again say you are an extraordinary girl," replied her visitor, "and I like you better than ever; such sentiments as your's deserve regard—how superior to the vain boast of birth and title!"
"Birth and title without these opinions lose half their value in my estimation,"replied Anna, "but with them they reflect honour on each other; and do not imagine, because I do not possess them, that I despise those advantages; these distinctions in society are necessary, and should very seldom be broke through: yet I am an exception to my own rule, as I am well aware, through Mrs. Meridith's kindness, I am placed in a very different situation from what I should otherwise be in."
Mrs. Meridith's entrance now interrupted the conversation, and Anna's new friend departed with an increased opinion of her understanding, notwithstanding she had heard Miss Hunt's account of her birth confirmed.
The late conversation dwelt much upon Anna's mind; but (whether from pride or delicacy she could not determine) she did not mention it to Mrs. Meridith; but the next time she was alone with her uncle, she repeated it to him.
"Well, my dear, I am glad of it," saidhe, "it will serve to keep the balance even; don't you remember Nancy Ward's remarks on the same occasion? They were of service to you; and these are only the same in higher life, and, perhaps, in more refined language. Depend upon it, it is a good thing to be made to remember ourselves sometimes; and I doubt not, though you could not see you needed it, and thought you kept yourself in your proper place, such helps as these were necessary when vanity had got all her forces about you."
"I did not think I was growing vain at all," said Anna, thoughtfully.
"Not when Mr. Such-an-one askedyouto dance," replied he, "and you saw that Miss Hunt had selected him for a partner; and when several other ladies were solicitous for the honour of his hand."
"Dear uncle," replied Anna, half smiling, and half blushing, "when did yousee this? surely you don't come to the balls."
"No, indeed," said he, returning her smile, "but I know such things as these; has it not been the case in my younger days, when at some wake, or fair, the two rival village girls have played the same part? Oh! believe me, the world is all alike, and what is acted at court, or in the higher circles, has its counterpart in this country town; and a second or third edition is brought forth in a still humbler set."
Anna smiled, and said, "I do not doubt it, my dear uncle; but tell me, was my father an illiterate man? had he at all the appearance of a gentleman? and was he not handsome?"
"These two last questions would not have been asked," returned her uncle, "if you had not been at L—; but I will reply to them as well as I am able. In the first place, he was not uneducated; he seemedto know many authors, and was not unacquainted with public and historical events; but he was wonderfully conceited: he called himself a gentleman to your poor mother, though we could never hear of any noble family he was allied to; and it was his handsome person and smart appearance, when in this very town she met with him, twenty years ago, that first engaged her affections."
"And what was his employment here?" asked Anna, who at this time could scarcely bear her uncle's playful manner.
"He told us," said he, "that he was intended for an apothecary, and had served his time to one, perhaps as a boy in the shop, to make up medicines; but I will not say—but he must be more skilled in that art, and more industrious, than in farming, to have had any success in it; but the truth is, he preferred idleness to work of any kind."
"And did you never hear him say whowere his relations?" inquired Anna, still more inquisitively, and anxious to gain some intelligence of a parent still unknown to her.
"No," replied her uncle, "he told us he was born in Yorkshire, and that his parents were dead; but once I heard him mention a brother who was, as he said, in business in London, but I have consulted every directory I could since meet with, and could never find his name. But let us talk no more about your father, in all probability he is long since dead. Don't you want to hear some of our village news? you seem to have forgot all your country acquaintance; aunt, and cousins, and all."
"No, dear uncle, do not say so," replied Anna, "how are they all? do they wish for my return?"
"We begin to think your absence long," returned he, "and so does all in the village; though your aunt and cousins, agreeable to Mrs. Meridith's desire, are carefulthey should not want any comfort she would allow them, if she was at home; and it is our little Mary's business to carry round the weekly money to the old and infirm."
Anna said she believed they should soon return, as Mrs. Meridith had not renewed their lodgings; and that lady soon appeared, and confirmed the pleasing intelligence, saying, that in the course of another fortnight they should again be at Rosewood.
The farmer gladly returned with the welcome news, and the intervening time was spent by the ladies intake leavevisits, and giving two or three routs at home, to make the visiting account even, between Mrs. Meridith and all her acquaintance.
"And then, my dear Anna," said she, "we will return to our own comfortable home; where, I doubt not, we shall see many happy faces at our approach, and all the beauties of the spring to excite ourchearfulness. The gardens will be beautiful in a short time, and I doubt not but the old men have done their best endeavours, as they term it, to make them flourishing."
At the time appointed, Mrs. Meridith and family returned to Rosewood; every one was pleased at the thought of once more seeing it. The village bells rang as they entered it; and all the women and children, who were not at work, or at school, were on the road to welcome their kind benefactress home.
Anna shed tears on observing their simple and hearty effusions of joy; and while Mrs. Meridith nodded to one and the other, observed how much superior these congratulations were, to all the expressions of form and politeness they had lately witnessed.
"We know the value of each now," returned Mrs. Meridith, "andtheseare endeared to us, from being conscious that we have deserved them, by our endeavours to make the poor people happy."
"You have, my dear mamma," said Anna pressing her hand; "Iam only an instrument of your bounty."
"And am I any more," said Mrs. Meridith, "in the hands of the Almighty? I am highly favoured to have such a place assigned me, and a heart to fulfil, in some measure, the duties belonging to it."
The gardens and pleasure grounds of Mrs. Meridith were her chief pleasure, and she spared no expense for labour, or whatever might adorn them, or render them productive; but no conservatory or hothouse was added to her domains; she was content with the flowers the natural soil would produce, and these were brought to the highest perfection cultivation would effect. Her fruit too was of the finest kind;and while she could see every sort which the season produces on her table, she wished not for pines or melons. Almost as soon as they were out of the carriage, she and Anna, attended by Bella, Syphax, and little Betty, visited her favourite seats and walks, and were pleased at finding every thing in the highest order, and the violets and primroses ready to appear at their feet. The most grateful feelings were excited in Mrs. Meridith at the beauties around her.
"Can I complain," thought she, "who have such a place as this allowed me, and the means in my power to make so many people happy? the affection also of this amiable girl and her family! Oh! why did I say mine was a blank in society!" and she sat down and wept on the first seat she met with.
Anna and her young attendant had strolled farther, but Bella perceiving her mistress in tears, hastened towards her.
"Why do you weep, dear madam!" said she, with the most affectionate attention.
"Sit down, dear Bella, and I will tell you," said Mrs. Meridith, wiping her eyes: "you have witnessed all my sorrows, and much of repining under them; but I weep now from a sense of the blessings I have still left me, and with shame for my former ingratitude."
"Oh, dear lady," said Bella, her eyes overflowing, "and what have I been delivered from? and what dreadful things did I know before I came to you? and yet my heart sometimes complains, because people do call me black woman; but you love me for all that, and I do wish to be more thankful and more useful to you, my dear mistress, I am not too old yet."
"And when you are, my dear Bella, that will not alter my affection for you; have I not received your former services? and I can never forget your faithful attachment to me."
"I have seen so much of your goodness, madam," said Bella, "that I do not doubt it, and so has Syphax; we never grieve to know what will become of us in old age, but lest we should forget what you have been to us."
Syphax now brought his mistress the first opening violet, which he had been carefully looking for among the shrubs which sheltered them, and Mrs. Meridith received it with her accustomed kindness; and shaking both her faithful attendants by the hand, she told them she once more welcomed them to Rosewood, with the sincerest pleasure.
"And I am sure I am glad enough we are got back again," said Syphax, "for I do not like the town at all; the boys did all run about me, and whisper black man, black man, to each other; not that I did mind that, but so much company, and saucy footmen, and chairmen, that Ithought to myself, my good lady will be soon tired of this; and I am glad I was not mistaken."
"But my mistress knew nothing of the footmen and chairmen," returned Bella, observing a smile upon her features.
"No more she did," replied Syphax; "but unless their masters and mistresses were something like herself, I am sure she could not likethem; and if theyhadbeen, I conclude they would not have kept such a set of unruly servants; and, therefore, I suppose, my lady did not like thoseshemet there, any more than I did."
Mrs. Meridith told him, "you are right, good Syphax, there was nothing at L— to compensate for leaving Rosewood at this time of the year."
Anna now rejoined her kind friend, and they returned to the house, resolving to visit the other part of the grounds after dinner.
In the afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell came to express their pleasure at Mrs. Meridith's return; and while they sat with her, Anna went to see her cousins, and give them an account of John. Her absence from them had made no difference in her behaviour; on the contrary, her regard for them was increased, when she contrasted the plain simplicity of their manners, to those of the gay ladies with whom she had lately associated.
"We shall now have an opportunity of observing," said Mrs. Meridith to Mr. Campbell, "whether Anna really prefers my quiet life to the pleasures of the town. Before this visit she knew no other, but now if she does not recur to the scenes she has left with a wish to return to them, she will gain still more of my confidence and esteem."
Mr. Campbell said he thought she would not; and he was not mistaken, for thoughAnna often talked of the balls and routs, it was only to say how far preferable the woods and walks about Rosewood were; and which were every day improving. Those of her acquaintance in the town, who could properly estimate her character, though she was so meanly born, and "the beggar's brat," which was the appellation she was now generally known by, amongst the opposite party, were happy to accept Mrs. Meridith's invitation to visit them during the summer; and Anna had often one or two young friends to stay with her: though she could never be persuaded to leave Mrs. Meridith, to return their visits. In the course of the next three or four years, Mrs. Meridith and her usual retinue visited the great metropolis, and almost made the tour of England, in order to shew Anna every thing worth noticing in her native country, and teach her duly to appreciate the comforts and advantageswhich are attached to it, as well as its numberless beauties, and variety of scenery. William Campbell, and sometimes John, when he could be spared from the office, accompanied them in several of these excursions; they visited the Dock-yards at Portsmouth, and the different manufactories in the towns they passed through, as, in whatever Mrs. Meridith proposed, improvement was blended with amusement.
Little Betty now began to be a great girl, and could read, write, and work as well as any child of her age; and she promised fair to be what Mrs. Meridith wished to make her (after the model of Bella), a faithful and affectionate servant; but she was not allowed to forget her father (whose health still continued very poorly), and his family. Every present she received from the young ladies who visited Anna, she carried the largest part to them, and when, at ten years old, Mrs. Meridith, wishing toreward her dutiful behaviour to him, allowed her to receive a yearly recompence for her services; he had his share of what she called her wages. Her eldest sister continued in Mrs. Campbell's family till she married, and the rest of the family were all put in a way to get their living.
We are now going to relate an event, in which our heroine had need of all the exertion and fortitude which the education she had received had so forcibly inculcated. Her mother's grave was always an object of attention to her; and though no pompous monument adorned the place, or flattering eulogy appeared on the simple stone which stood at its head (her name, and age, with the date of the year in which she died, being all that was engraved there), Anna regarded it with interest, because it was all she had ever known of her parent; and never passed it without reflecting on her birth, and thinking of her father; and it was on this veryspot she was destined to meet him, whom she had so often wished to hear of, and who for twenty years had made no inquiry after her.
She was one autumnal evening walking through the church-yard rather later than usual, and alone; having left Betty, who had come out with her, at her father's, to assist in preparing her younger sister's clothes, who was just then going out to service for the first time; it was twilight, and she stepped out of the path on perceiving something near her mother's grave, which she could not distinguish without approaching nearer. As she advanced she saw a man stooping down, as if to read what was written on the stone, and which the dimness of the evening scarcely allowed him to see. His whole attention was engrossed, and he did not hear her footstep.
"Anna Eastwood," said he, "daughter of William and Mary Campbell;—Ah! thatis her. But is there no other name? Is there not another Anna Eastwood? Did I not hasten the death of my child also?"
Anna heard no more, but overcome by the suddenness of the discovery, uttered a faint scream and fell senseless on the turf. The man started from his reverie; and perceiving by her white dress where she lay, at that moment lost to all animation as the dead by which she was surrounded; he hastened to her relief, and raising her in his arms, without the least idea how near she was allied to him. He supported her and himself against the tombstone, till her faint breathings informed him she revived. At this moment a labouring man passed along the path; and Eastwood called to him.
"Come here, my friend," said he, "and assist this young lady."
"Gracious me!" exclaimed the man, on perceiving who she was, "it is Miss Meridith! How did she come here at this timeof the night? Is she very bad?" continued he, on observing her tremble, and looking wildly around.
"Don't you know me, Miss—poor Thomas?—Don't be frightened, nobody shall hurt you; did this man attempt it?"
"Oh, no," replied Anna, who had now gained her recollection, and scarcely able to refrain from declaring he was her father; but reflecting on Mrs. Meridith's uneasiness at her stay, she expressed a wish to go home.
"Can you walk, Madam?" said the stranger, gathering from her appearance, and the manner in which the labourer regarded her, that she was in a superior situation. "Will you allow me to assist you? I am a stranger here, or I would offer to call some one, but perhaps this man can procure you a conveyance?"
"I shan't leave her alone with a stranger," said Thomas; "who knows what you may be?" ("Who, indeed!" thought Anna,with a heavy sigh;) "or what you have done to her? She a'n't used to be soon frightened! Miss Meridith is none of your timid-hearted young ladies."
"Indeed I am not," returned Anna; "I am able to walk now, and if you will accompany me to Rosewood, I will thank you, Thomas."
"That I will, Miss," replied he, "I will see you safe home; and be glad youbea little more like yourself again."
"And will you not permitme, Madam, to assist you?" repeated the stranger; "I do not think you can walk without support."
"I would wish,—I should be obliged;" returned Anna, in hurried accents, and her agitation became again so great, that she involuntarily rested on his arm to recover herself.
"I fear I have greatly alarmed you," said he, "but I am sure it was unintentionally."—"I hope that's true," thoughtThomas, who stood watching him as narrowly as the twilight would permit.
"How far are we from this lady's home?" asked the stranger.
"Oh not above a quarter of a mile," said Thomas, "if she could but walk."
"I can now," said Anna, "and I will accept your offer, Sir." She then advanced, leaning on her father's arm, her heart beating all the way with an emotion not to be expressed, and Thomas on the other side of her.
Neither of them spoke a word, till, as they entered the gate which led to the house, they met Syphax coming out in search of his young lady.
"O! my dear Miss," said he, "I am glad you are come; we have been quite uneasy at your staying so late."
Thomas was the only one who could speak, so as to account for it, and his relation was so unconnected, and so full of his surprise at finding Miss Meridith in thechurch-yard alone with a strange man, that little could be learnt from it, except that as he said he was determined not to leave him with her again, or he would have ran and called somebody; for which he was rewarded with some good ale by Syphax, and a handsome present from Mrs. Meridith.
When they entered the hall, where the lamp was already lighted, Anna and her conductor first saw the faces of each other; but without that emotion on his side which it occasioned on her's. "Andisthis my father?" she was ready to exclaim; but checking herself, she desired Syphax to shew him into the parlour; and begging him to wait till she saw him again, she ran, or rather flew up stairs into Mrs. Meridith's apartment, who was anxiously waiting her return; and without giving her time to say a word, she threw her arms about her neck, and exclaimed, "Oh! Mamma, I have seen my father!"
For a moment Mrs. Meridith was apprehensive that her senses were affected, but when she saw the tears which accompanied her declaration, and her pale, yet expressive face, she could not disbelieve her; but begging her to be composed, she placed her on the sofa, and then shutting the door of the room, she seated herself by her side, and desired to hear more of what had passed.
"This is an event," said she, "which was not unlikely to happen, if your father yet lived; but tell me where did you meet? and are you sure it was him?" The calmness with which Mrs. Meridith spoke, extended itself in a little time to Anna, and she related what had passed at her mother's grave, with as much composure as could be expected.
"Then he does not know you as his daughter?" said Mrs. Meridith, "You had great resolution not to discover yourself, and I am glad of it. Is he now below?"
"Yes," replied Anna, "and whatshallI do? If he makes any inquiry in the village he will soon find out who I am; and then—"
"What then?" said Mrs. Meridith, "he may be a reformed man, and what you have already witnessed seems to promise it; I will go and talk to him, and if by his conversation I find him a different man from what he once was, you may yet have reason to rejoice in your father."
"And may not I go too?" asked Anna.
"If you can command your feelings to hear the account he may give of himself, without discovery, I have no objection," replied Mrs. Meridith.
"I think I can, after what has already passed," said Anna: "pray let me go; I will not say a word;" and they descended to the parlour together.
The Stranger rose at their entrance; while Anna shrunk behind her protectress. His appearance was not uninteresting, and though a deep melancholy sat upon his features, it might be seen he had once been handsome; he looked older than he really was, and his clothes and address evinced him to be above a common person.
"Pray be seated, Sir," said Mrs. Meridith, "I am come to thank you for your assistance to Miss Meridith; I hope my servant has not neglected to offer you some refreshment," and she rang the bell. The Stranger bowed, and declined taking any thing; and hoped the young lady was quite recovered.
Anna's lips moved, but her pale and agitated countenance told him she was not. When Syphax entered, he replenished the fire, and placed something to eat and drink on the table, but still the Stranger refused it.
"Are you quite unknown in the village, Sir?" asked Mrs. Meridith.
"At present I am, Madam; but I expect to meet—Ihavebeen acquainted"—here he hesitated, and was again silent.
"You will think my questions very impertinent, Sir," resumed Mrs. Meridith, "if I do not tell you that I take your name to be Eastwood."
"And is it possible any one can know me?" exclaimed the man, and covering his face with his hand: "Oh! do not say you do; for I am truly ashamed of what I have been."
"Youarethe person I took you for," replied Mrs. Meridith, looking affectionately at Anna, whose tears flowed afresh; "yet as much altered, perhaps, in mind as in person."
"More, more, I hope, Madam," replied he with emotion; "I am ashamed of what I have been; but how could you know me? I do not recollect any one like you."
"Perhaps not," replied she; "but I have heard of you from Mr. Campbell."
"Oh! then you must despise and hateme!" said he, again hiding his face. "But indeed I am not what I was: and can you tell me," added he, "who are alive of that family? Is there any of my name among them?" and he looked with eager attention for her answer.
"None that I know of," replied Mrs. Meridith; "the old farmer and his wife are both dead; and their eldest son is married, and has a large family."
"But are theyallhis own children?" repeated the man with great earnestness; "has he notoneof mine?" His distress was so great that Mrs. Meridith, forgetting the caution she had given Anna, could not help endeavouring to relieve it by replying—
"No, butIhave;—thatisher."
It was now Anna's turn to support her father, for he sunk back motionless in the chair, only uttering, "It is impossible!"
She flew towards him, and bathed his face with her tears while she hung overhim with inexpressible pleasure and emotion. When a little revived, he exclaimed, "and have you been a mother to her, when, through my inhumanity, she had lost her own? Oh, what a merciful Providence has watched over my child! when I, wretch that I was, was totally unmindful of her!" In this way he kept soliloquizing, while he looked first at one and then the other, and then repeated his thanks to the Almighty.
"But can my child forgive me?" continued he, very impassionately.
"Do not ask it, my father!" said Anna, then first venturing to throw her arms around him, and calling him by that endearing name; "do not ask it,—I am only thankful that I am permitted to see you as you are; I have now no other wish but to evince my ardent gratitude to Mrs. Meridith for all her kindness to me; you must help me to do it, my father."
"And you, my child, must instruct me how," said he; "for till very lately I havebeen little used to any thing commendable. Suffer me to embrace you, and receive a father, who, though he has but little to offer you, has an earnest desire to make you all the recompense in his power for his former conduct towards you."
Anna could only answer him with tears, and while the whole party were thus engaged, Mr. Campbell entered the room, having heard part of Anna's adventure from Thomas, who, on his return home, reported it through the village, "how he had met Miss Meridith in the church-yard almost as dead as a stone, and a strange man with her;" and he hastened up to know the truth of it.
On his entrance, Anna looked at Mrs. Meridith to announce her father, and then at him, to observe if he recollected her uncle: which he immediately did, and turning away his face, he uttered, in a low voice, "How richly have I deserved this shame! Oh, how shall I bear it!" Mr.Campbell's countenance was all astonishment and anxiety.
"Pardon my intrusion, Madam," said he, to Mrs. Meridith, "but hearing Anna was ill, I came to see if it was so; I did not know you had company."
"A stranger," replied Mrs. Meridith, evidently much embarrassed.
"Him who was with Anna?" asked Mr. Campbell, scarcely knowing what to think. "Good Heavens! what can be the matter?"
"Oh, my father!" exclaimed Anna, perceiving him almost sinking with shame and confusion.
"Your father!" repeated Mr. Campbell in amazement, "can it be him? is it Eastwood?"
"Oh, look not on me!" said the humiliated man, "I know you must detest me!"
"Mr. Campbell canforgive," said Mrs. Meridith, feeling much at his distress.
"Notme, notme," replied he, "I cannot forgive myself."
The farmer stood in silent astonishment, while Anna took his hand, and with an imploring look said, "my father is not what he was, my dear uncle, he is sensible of his faults; can you desire more?"
"No, my child, I am not appointed his judge, or his punisher; his crimes have been their own punishment, I doubt not;" here a sigh, or rather groan, from the poor man, witnessed the truth of his remark.
"Let me then join your hands," said Anna, with emotion, and drawing them towards each other; "my dear uncle, you have supplied the place of a father to me, and now my father thanks you."
"On my knees I do!" said Eastwood; "may your kindness meet with its due reward."
"And are you indeed an altered man?" replied Campbell, overcome by his contrition, "then to my heart I can receive you; and let all that is past be forgotten."
"Unless my future conduct should remind you of it," said Eastwood, "and then banish me from your society for ever."
The rest of the evening was spent in mutual inquiries, and Anna listened with an agitated mind to the brief account her father gave of his former life.
"After leaving Downash," said Eastwood, "I went, as was reported, to sea, and what passed there I would willingly hide from all my friends; suffice it to say, though I always wished to be considered as a gentleman, my manners were so different from what properly belongs to that character, that none would admit me into their company; and I associated with the lowest of the crew; spending my time as they did, and oftener drunk than sober. But let me pass over what it pains me to remember; I was more than once or twice nearly drowned by my own temerity; and two of the ships in which I was, were wrecked, from which I narrowly escaped with mylife. For nearly eighteen years I lived this miserable life; discharged from ship to ship on account of my behaviour, till at the end of that time I contracted a very severe illness, which brought me a little to my senses. I was confined to my bed with a rheumatic fever nearly twelve months; three of which I was on board a vessel which put me on shore at Hull, in Yorkshire; and though it was in this country that I was born, I did not know I had any relations left there, for I am ashamed to say, I had never inquired for them. On my first setting out in life, being taken from home very early, and the favourite of my schoolmaster, who overrated my abilities when he recommended me to a medical friend of his, to teach me the profession; I thought myself much above the rest of my family; and on coming to London with my new master, I soon forgot them all. But I am departing from my story, and relating the follies of my youthinstead of those of riper age. Alas! what a retrospection is mine!You, Mr. Campbell, can look back on a well-spent life;Ionly on infamy!" His silence spoke his distress; and Mr. Campbell, wishing to relieve it, said:—
"I think I have heard you mention a brother."
"And it is to that brother," replied Eastwood, "next to Divine Providence, that I am what I now am. When I first knew you I was ashamed of him, and my pride made me tell you an untruth (Oh, that pride should descend to such meanness!) in saying that he was in business for himself; but at that time he was only a shopman, and not being of so dissipated and idle a turn as I was, we never met during the time I mentioned. When I was put on shore at Hull, quite a stranger, though within a few miles of my native place, very ill, and without the use of my limbs, or any money in my pocket, except a very small overplus of my pay, which was left after discharging the surgeon's bill, who attended me on board; my conduct had not been such as to gain me any friends in the ship, and but for the humanity of one of the common sailors, who got me a lodging at a small public-house, I must have perished in the streets. But what I suffered was little,verylittle to what I deserved. And now I had time to look back and reflect on the past, though I would have drowned reflection as I had often done before, had not the people of the house refused to bring me any liquor. I wish to shorten my tale as much as I can, and will only say, that my brother, who had opened a shop in Hull, and was very prosperous in business, heard my name; and his compassion induced him to come and see if it was his brother, who was formerly ashamed to call him by that name; but, poor and wretched as I was, he was not ashamed ofme. He removed me to his own house,where both himself and his wife treated me with the kindest attention.
"Oh, how is it," said he, interrupting his narrative, "how is it, that all my life through I have met with the kindest treatment from those of whom I least deserved it? and now again I experience it; what can I say for myself?
"The best medical aid was procured me, and I had sufficient time, as I said before, to reflect on my past life; and bitter reflections these were. I seemed now for the first time to recollect that I had a daughter; and when sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey, I told my brother I was determined to find her, if she was alive. I preferred coming in person to writing, because I could say nothing good of myself; but my brother told me, that, contrary to every appearance in our younger days, my father had prospered in the small farm he rented when I left him, and had left what little property he diedpossessed of, between us. 'Your share, and the interest due upon it since his death,' said he, 'shall be yours on your return to Hull; and should you be so fortunate as to find your child alive, let me advise you to settle it on her; and if my hopes of your reformation are realized, it may still be in your power to add to it by an attention to business, in whatever line you choose to enter.'
"I thanked him for his generosity and advice, determined not to accept the former, unless I found my child in a situation that needed it.
"I only arrived in this village about six hours back, and, ashamed and afraid to make any inquiry, my first visit was to the grave of my wife, thinking that if my child was also dead, I should see her name upon the same stone; and then whether I should have proceeded to your house or not, I cannot tell, but accident threw my child in my way at the very spot I went tolook for her, though I had not the least idea of who she was, but thought my appearance had alarmed her, as she was passing by."
"Your words, my dear father," said Anna, "assured me who you were, before you saw me; and it was seeing you indistinctly on that spot, which has always been dear to me, and willnowbe much more so, which led me nearer to it, that I might discover what it was."
And now the father and daughter, and indeed the whole party, rejoiced at their meeting, and the evening was far advanced before Mr. Campbell recollected that his wife would be anxious to hear who the stranger was, and hastened home to inform her. A bed was provided for Eastwood in Mrs. Meridith's house, and a servant sent to the public-house for the things he had brought with him. Bella and Syphax were informed who he was, and it was soon spread through the village,that "Miss Anna's father was come, and that he was quite a gentleman, and seemed very sorry for his past behaviour."
Most of the old folks who remembered his marriage, repaired the next morning to Mr. Campbell's, to know if it was really so; and nothing but his declaring that he had forgiven him, and hoped that he was a reformed man, could have prevented their bestowing some invectives on him, for his conduct to such a nice young woman as poor Anna Campbell was, and his neglect of his daughter: but when in about an hour afterwards, they saw him walk through the village, with Anna on his arm, and observed his dejected and melancholy looks, they altered their opinion, and thought farmer Campbell was right.
"It is a long lane that has no turning," said one old man; "he looks very sorrowful, and may be a good father yet; we, have all something to be forgiven."
"But will he take Miss Meridith away?"was the eager inquiry of all the younger ones: "What shall we do then?" And great was the anxiety and consternation in the village, till they knew what would be the result of this strange occurrence.
Anna after accompanying her father to the farm, left him there, and returned to Mrs. Meridith; while all her movements were as minutely watched by the young villagers, as those of the Emperor Alexander and our other illustrious Visitors, when they lately honoured England with their presence.
When Eastwood was told by Mr. Campbell what were Mrs. Meridith's intentions towards his child, and that she had really adopted her as her own, he scarcely knew whether to lament or rejoice at it. "It is true," said he, "I don't deserve the comfort of her society, but I had allowed myself to hope, that if she was spared, my latter days would have made up to her my past conduct: but Mrs. Meridith and you have the greatest claim to her," added he with a sigh. "You have performed a parent's part; I only bore the name."
Mr. Campbell then related Mrs. Meridith's history, and that Anna's attentionseemed absolutely necessary to make her forget her griefs. "Long may she be preserved to us," continued he, "but I have often heard her say, that at her death this adopted daughter should be the mistress of Rosewood; and of whom can she learn the duties of such a situation so well as from her present instructress?"
Eastwood remained silent, and his mind seemed agitated with a variety of emotions. "Setting interest aside," said he, "my duty and my gratitude would not allow me, to take her from such a home: but Mrs. Meridith must not be incumbered with me because she has taken my daughter; and yet I should like to witness her goodness, and to live where I could have such examples before me as you and her. Oh! had I not forfeited every claim to your friendship, I might have been still an inhabitant of this quiet village, and blessed as you are with a wife and family about me."
"Spare these self recriminations, my dear brother," said Campbell, "they are only painful to yourself and me; if you think you could like the situation, you might return to the farm you left."
"Oh, no! not that," returned Eastwood, "the remembrance would be too painful; besides, I am too ignorant of farming, and too old to learn: my brother, likewise, has a claim upon me."
"And a very great one," replied Campbell; "but I suppose him to be indifferent where you settle, so you do not return to your former habits. What think you of your first profession? I should imagine that study and practice would make it easy to you."
"I have always thought of returning to that," said Eastwood, "whenever business was talked of; and, did I know of any opening, should be glad to accept it."
"If you allow me to advise you," resumed Campbell, "it would be to enterinto partnership with some one already established."
This was certainly the best plan, and it was agreed that they would talk farther on the subject another day; in the mean time Mr. Campbell was to make inquiries, and Mrs. Meridith was informed of their intention.
It met with her and Anna's concurrence, who only hoped a situation might be found not very distant from them; and, agreeable to her wishes, Mr. Campbell soon heard of a medical man in very good practice atL—, who was desirous of taking a partner who was a few years younger than himself.
Eastwood readily accepted the proposal; the money which he was to advance was agreed on, and this was all he would accept from his brother (who was made acquainted by letter of all that had passed), as his share of their father's property; intending, if he was successful in his newundertaking, to repay it him, as a small return for his kindness in receiving and supporting him during his illness.
Till this was settled, Mrs. Meridith's house was his home; and Anna had frequent opportunities of observing that her father possessed both talents and genius, which not even the wretched way in which he had spent great part of his life could obliterate. He, had received a liberal education, both from the wish of his parents to give their children that which themselves had felt the want of, and the favour of his instructor, who admired his abilities, and hoped that they would have led him to greater things than his father intended. But, notwithstanding these advantages, Eastwood had to begin the world when between forty and fifty years old; because he did not properly value them at the first. The praises his abilities obtained, gave him a high opinion of himself, but this did not keep him from the most odiousvices; he suffered his inclination to shine in company, and to appear greater than he really was: till finding that he was not so highly thought of by others as by himself, he sunk into the opposite extreme, and had it not been for the reflections occasioned by a severe illness, and the subsequent occurrences, he would have remained a disgrace instead of a benefit to society, and among the lowest and vilest of his fellow creatures, instead of filling the place for which his education had fitted him.
In the evening before he left Rosewood to go to his new situation, Mrs. Meridith put an hundred pound note into Anna's hands. "I need not tell you what to do with it, my child," said she; "I hope it will be well bestowed, and we shall then have the pleasure of seeing a fellow creature restored to society."
Anna in trembling accents thanked her kind benefactress, and hastened to present it to her father as Mrs. Meridith's gift.
"I want words to thank her," said he, "but it is too much: do you think I dare be trusted with such a sum?"
"I hope so, my father," replied Anna, "and double that, had I it to give you."
"Oh! my child, money is not what I want," said he; "do you think I am now entering on business with a view to obtain it? No: but from a wish of employment, and of being useful to my fellow creatures. Every thing else is useless to me now you are provided for; and oh! my Anna, how amply! What a friend have you found in Mrs. Meridith! May you and I be ever grateful to her."
In the course of the next year, Anna, with her father and their kind friend Mrs. Meridith, visited Hull, and were introduced to her uncle, whom they found what the former had described, an industrious and benevolent man, plain in his manners, but an honour to the station he filled: and on their return to Rosewood, Mrs. Meridithcelebrated Anna's coming of age with all the festivity incident to the occasion.
The poor were feasted, and the bells were rung, but Anna's heart was not vainly elated by the scene; the recollection of her birth, and her father's past life, checked her rising pride; while the calm sedateness which sat on her uncle's brow, and the propriety of the sentiments he uttered, together with her father's humility, and earnest desire to render his latter days more serviceable to mankind, taught her the just value of this world's good; and from Mrs. Meridith (whose benevolence entered into every plan she proposed, and every action of her life,) she learnt duly to appreciate it; but as the means of assisting others, or, in other words, as she had often told her when a child, "the way to be happy ourselves is to add to the happiness of others, not to take from it."
In a few years she married a gentleman who was a distant relation of Mrs. Meridith's, and whose fortune was equal to her own; and that lady and her father had the pleasure of seeing her fulfil the duties of a wife and mother, as the education she had received allowed them to expect.
Mrs. Meridith lived to an advanced age, and Anna never forgot the attention that was due to her, and which she hoped to receive from her own children when she most needed it.
Her father never entirely recovered his health; but his character, which to him was far more desirable, was perfectly retrieved; and he died lamented by many who experienced his attention, and was pleased with his society.
Bella and Syphax both died before Mrs. Meridith was taken from the world; and Betsey continued Anna's servant after she was married.
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell lived some years after the marriage of their niece, and had the satisfaction of seeing their three eldestdaughters happily married, and settled in the neighbouring villages. William inherited the farm after his father's death, and John became an eminent lawyer; while a younger brother was brought up under Mr. Eastwood's care, and supplied his place at his death.