. ^1 
 
 • 
 
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 .A^^ff^ 
 
 
 DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 treasure %oom 
 
■• JiTorch^ 1816. 
 
 MODERN PUBLICATIONS, 
 
 NETr EDITIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 VALUABLE STANDARD WORKS, 
 
 rRlXTEII TOR 
 
 M. CAREY, No. 121, CHESNUT STREET, 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 VOYAGES, TRAVELS, GEOGRAPHY, AND 
 TOPOGRAPHY. 
 
 PERSONAL NARRATIVE o;' Travels to tlie EQUINOCTIAL TV-" 
 GIONS of tlie NEV/ CONTINENT between the vt-ars 1799— l^oi. Py 
 AT EXANDERDE HUMBOLDT, ami AI.ME KONPLaND. Written iti 
 French, By ALEXANDER DE D UMBO LDT. 
 
 And translated into English by HELEN MARIA \V1LUAIMS. 
 In 8vo. Price 250 cents in Boards. 
 
 " Wc congratnlate tlio \iroscnt age on having prcwhiccd a traveller, armed 
 at all points, anrl completely accomplished tor the purpose of physici', 
 moral, and political observation. In ^I. Dr. Hr^MTiOLnT -we have^n astroiio- 
 l.ier, a physiologist, a botanist, one versed in statistics, and political econo- 
 aiy ; a metiiphysicinn, an antiquary, and a learned jjlnloloj.^ .t — possessing 
 at the same tirae the enlai"ge<l views, the spirit, and the U .< of true phi- 
 losophy. This assemblage of ac<inircmcnts, so seldom found in the same 
 individual, is in lum a<;conipaniefl vith the most indefatigable activity ; v. .■> 
 the zeal, the enterprise, and the vigour which are necessary to give them 
 their full effect.'- Edinburgh Jfev. A'ov. ISH. 
 
 TRAVELS in the INTERIOR of BRAZIL; prececded by an account 
 of a voya^' tothe Riode la Plata. By JOHN MAWE, 
 
 Author of a Treatise on the Mineralogy of Derbyshire. In 1 vol. 8vo. illus- 
 wated with plutes, and a map. 
 
 The principal part of tliis work relates to theintei-ior of Brazil, vherc 
 no Englishman was ever before permitted to travel, and particularly to 
 
 ♦ he Gold and Diamond districts, which he investig;ited by J)rder (>f tlie 
 I'rince Regent of Portugal. P'rom the high sanctior. muler which he began 
 
 ♦ h'' nndertaking, and the length of time he devoted to it, his narrative may 
 he expected to throw considerable light on a rich and extensive colony, 
 hitherto little explored, and at ju'esent higidy interesting. 
 
 "Of the knowh-dge, sagacity, skill and experience of this aiithor ns a 
 mi.ioralogist, we l];ive before hud the most honourat)ie tenliniony, and this 
 pni''. JctiOM cannot fail to add considerably to his r f'tUation. Ir has iilro 
 iiiuuh of tiic recommendation of novelty, for the state of the mines of Bra - 
 •. il, and of the agriculture of the couniiy, has hitherto been very imp i 
 fectl- known ; there is also-i)erhaps in '.his volume, the most s;tti!sfacti>ri. 
 r.ccouLit 'vhich we have hitherto had, of the unfortunate i \pi-ditiou agaii.- 
 Bnenos Ayres, by General Whitelocke, and the causi s of i;s failure ar<' iio 
 partinlly delailei!, and perspicnOMsly explained: altogetlier we con.sider !li^ 
 work Kb a vaUiable ailditioii to our tceograjthical colli ciions, and m</e \i;\. 
 
 \ 
 
M. PRIXTED I'OR M. CAREY, PHlLADELPfflA. 
 
 -.any acceptable, as exhibiting what has not yet appeared in any En- 
 glisli publication, a scientific account of the diamond mines and diamond 
 works of tiiis part of South America." British Critic, J\ine, 1813. 
 
 AN ACCOUNT of a VOYA(.E to ABYSSINIA, and TRAVELS in 
 the^ INTERIOR of that COUNTRY, executed under the orders of the 
 British government, in the years 1809 and 1810"; in which are inchided an 
 account of the PORTUGUESE SETTLEMENTS on the EASTERN 
 COAST of AFRICA, visited in fhe course of the voyage ; a concise sum- 
 mary of late occurrences in Arabia Felix ; and some particulars respect- 
 ing the Abori^nal African Tribes, extending from Mozambtquc to the 
 borders of Egypt, together with vocabularies of their respective Inngiiages, 
 By HENRY SALT, Esq. F. R. S. &c. 
 In 1 vol. 8vo. with a Map of Abyssinia. 
 (In the press, and will be published in May.) 
 
 " Mr. Salt was already known to the public as the companion of Lord 
 Valentia, in his Eastern Travels, and this account ot a new voyage to Abys- 
 sinia lias exalted and established his reputation as a sensible traveller, an 
 elegant writer, and an able draughtsman." Monthly JMagazine. 
 
 A JOURNEY through PERSIA, ARMENIA and ASIA MINOR, to 
 CONSTANTINOPLE, in the years 1808 and 1809, in which is included 
 tome account of the proceedings of HIS MAJE.STY'S MISSION under 
 SIR HARFORD JONES, Bart. K. C. to the Court of the King of Pei-sia. 
 By JAMES MORIER, 
 His Alajesty's Secretary of Embassy to the Court of Persia. 
 In ] vol, 8vo. with plates, and a Map. 
 (In the press, and will be published in April.) 
 •' In the elegant work of Mr. Morier, we have an interesting report of the 
 last of the English Embassies, under Sir Harford Jones. As Persia has not 
 been described by an Englishman since the civil wars that followed the usui*- 
 pation of Nadir Shah, our curiosity was powerfully excited by the ar.ounce- 
 ment of Mr. Morier's work; and wc can unreservcdh" declai-e that in its 
 perusal, we have been abundantly gratified." Monthly JMn^iiziiie, 1813. 
 
 '• The work before us is one of those which requires little recommen- 
 dation, — for the respectable situation in hfe, and important office of Mr, 
 Morier in the Embassy, sets the mind at perfect rest as to the authenti- 
 city of the facts related ; and the modern state of Persia being but slightly 
 known to us, we naturally feel an eager desire to read and be informed." 
 
 Gentleman' s Maffuzine. 
 •'Mr. Morier possesses spirit, activity and intelligence ; together with an 
 eager desire of acquiring information, and truth and judgment in directing 
 his attention to the most deserving objects. Critical Review. 
 
 A TOUR THROUGH ITALY, exhibiting a view of its SCENERY, 
 its ANTIQUITIES, and its MONUMENTS ; particularly as they are OB- 
 JECTS of CLASSICAL INTEREST and ELUCIDATION : with an ac 
 count of the present state of its Cities and Towns ; and occasional obser- 
 vations On the recent spoliations of the French. 
 
 By the Rev. JOHN CHETWODE EUSTACE. 
 In 2 vols. 8vo. with plates. 
 (In the press, and will be published in May.) 
 *' This is one of the best books of travels that has apjieared since we be- 
 gan our labours." Ed. Rev. A'o. XLII. p. S'S. 
 
 " Mr. Eustace is endowed with uU the natural and acquired gifts and ad- 
 vantages, which fitted him for intimately knowing Italy and Italians." 
 
 Moiiihlij Revieiv, Feb. p. 114, 
 
VOYAGES, TRAVELS, GEOGR WHY, kt. S 
 
 •'* Ills religious sentiments and political principles are equally liberal." 
 
 Qiiartei'h/ Jitn>if-.c, Ao. XJX. p. 2-23. 
 
 "His description of local scenery is unrivalled." Crit. liev. Afav, fi.iQ. 
 
 "His classical taste displays itself vvitli peculiar advantage and uncomuion 
 iVlieity." Quai'toii/ lievie~'v, »\o. Jf/X. //. '241. 
 
 " His style is pure and flowing." British Critic, .Iprit, p. 399. 
 
 " Tiiis is a work that no pprfion projecting a tour to Italy can hereafter be 
 V, it bout." British Revie-.i-, .Vo. X. p. Sm. 
 
 "It is a manual and guide to the wliolc country; all Mr. Eustace's read- 
 ing, all his inquiries, all his ende.avours, api)e;a- to lia\e iK'on devoted to 
 the study of this glorious theatre of ancient and mmlcrn exploits ; his vigi- 
 lance is ever on tbe alert ; his reasoning is unobstrncted by prejudice ; and 
 his work will improve the heart, while it interests the umlerstanding " 
 
 .'l/o?:. n,'v.p. 116. 
 
 " Ttie ])hilosopher, the poet, and the orator, may alike profit by the re- 
 flections, the descriptions, and the style with which tbis elegant Totu'ist has 
 adorned and eni-iched his comniiinicatious." IJrit. Jii'v. ji'o. X. p. 391. 
 
 CAREY'S GENERAL ATLAS, improved. Being a collection of MAPS 
 of the WOULD and QUARTERS, their Kingdoms, Sf.tes, 8:c. contain- 
 ing fifty-eight folio Maps, handsomely coloured. 1. Tlie AA'orld ; 2. ditto. 
 Mercator's priijecUon ; 3. North America ; 4. The British Possessions in 
 America ; 5. The United States ; 6. Vermont ; 7. New-Ha\npshiro ; 8. 
 Maine; 9. Massachusetts ; 10. Rhale-Island ; H. Connecticut ; 12. New- 
 York ; 13. New-Jersey; li. Pennsylvania ; 15. Delaware ; 16. Maryland j 
 17. Virginia, 18. North-Carolina; 19. South-Carolina; 20. Georgia ; 21. 
 Kentucky; 22. Tennessee; 23. The Mississippi Tenilory ; 24. Ohio ; 25. 
 The North Western, Michig-an, Illinois, and Indiana Territories ; 26. The 
 State of Louisiana ; 27. The Missouri TerriloiT^ ; 28. Seven Ratiges of Town- 
 ships laid out by Congress ; 29. Mexico ; 30. The West Indfes ; 31. The 
 French part of St. Domingo; 32. South America ; 33. Caracas ; 34. Pern ; 
 35. Cliih and the vice-royalty of La Plata ; 36. Brazil ; 37. Europe ; 38. Swe- 
 den, Denmark, and Norway ; 39. Russia ; 40. Scotland ; 41. England and 
 Wales ; 42. Ireland ; 43. United Provinces and Netherlands ; 44. (Germany ; 
 45. France, divided itito Departments ; 46. Hungary and Turkey in Europe ; 
 47. Spain and Portugal ; 48.1t,aly; 49. Switzerland ; 50. Poland ; 51. Asia; 
 52. China ; 53. Hindostan ; 54. Islands and Cbannels b'Mw een China and New 
 Holland; 55. New South Wales, viith Norfolk Island, Lord Howe's l.slaiid, 
 I'ort Jackson, &c. ; 56. Africa; 57. Countnes round the Norlli Pole; 58. 
 Captain Cook's Discoveries. 
 
 Price 15 dollars, handsomely half bound. 
 
 SKETCHES, HISTORICAL and DESCRIPTIVE, of LOUISIANA 
 By Major AMOS STODDARD, Member of the U. S. M. P. S. 
 
 and of the New York Hist Oilcal Society. 
 In 8vo. Price 3 dollars, in boards. 
 
 " This volume is divided into fourteen cliapters, comprehending the Jiis- 
 toi-y (if Louisiana and tbe Floiidas ; their geography, government, laws, 
 coinmet'ce, and manufactures, learning and religion. The character of (he 
 Louisianians, the state of slavery amongst tlitn), the antiquities, the rivers, 
 and mineral riches of that country ; a dci^ciiption of the aborigines, and tlie 
 arguments in favour of the conjecture that this country was settled by emi- 
 gration from W'ales, anterior to the discovery of Cohnnbus, eonchide the 
 volume. 
 
 " The style, although it assumes the character of humble narrative, is 
 jiure and chaste, and vve cordially cougi-atidate the author on the hardihood 
 of character he has assumed, for such undoubtedly it i.s, in the present day, 
 to be so unclassical as to write •ommon sense. He shows lumsel(to be a 
 
 !/ 
 
4 PRINTED FOR M. CAREY, PHlLADELPmA. 
 
 master of Uie materials that he manages, and, while conversing with his 
 page, we have found ourselves seated -with him by the side of solitary riv- 
 ers, plunging into the glooms of inextricable wildernesses, or climbing the 
 heights of desart mountains, instead of foigctting all these and admiring the 
 brilliancy of a paragi-aph. We wished to explore the regions of Louisia- 
 na : and bv the light of his lamp we have explored them." Port Folio. 
 
 TRAVELS THROUGH THE CANADAS, containing a description of 
 the pictures(iue scenery of some of the Rivers and Lflkes, with an account 
 ol the Productions, Commerce and Inhabit mts of those Pr'ovinces. 
 BY GEORGE HERIOT, ESQ. 
 In 12mo. Price 1 dollar, in boards. 
 " Altogether we deem it one of Uie most cui'ious publications that has of 
 late appeared." Jfonthli/ J^■Iap■. 
 
 A VOYAGE TO THE DEAIERARY, containing a statistical account of 
 the settlements there, and of those on the Essequebo, the Berbice, and other 
 ceatiguous Rivers of Guyana. By HENRY BOLINGBROKE Esq. 
 
 In 8vo. Price 150 cents in boaixls. 
 
 THE STRANGER'S GUIDE through PHILADELPHIA, containing 
 a plan of the City, with an alphabetical list of all liie Squares, Sti'ects, Roads, 
 Lanes, AUevs, Avenues, Courts, Ship-Yards, Public Buildings inc. in tho 
 City and Subuibs. By JOHN ADEMS PAXTON. 
 
 In 12mo. Price 150 cents, handsomely half bound. 
 
 CAREY'S AMERICAN POCKET ATLAS, containing 23 Maps, riz. 1. 
 Vnited States ; 2. Vermont ; 3. New-Hampshire ; 4. Maine ; 5. Massachu- 
 setts; 6. Rhode-Island ; 7. Connecticut ; 8. New-Yoik; 9. New-Jersey ; 10. 
 Pennsylvania ; 11. Delaware ; 12. Ohio; 13. Maryland ; 14. Virginia ; 15. Ken- 
 tucky ; 16. North-Carolina ; 17. Tennessee ; 18. South-Carolina; 19. Geor- 
 sfia ; 20. Mississippi Territory ; 21. Upper Territories of the United States; 
 22. Louisiana ; 23. Missouri Territory. With a BRIEF DESCRIPTION 
 of each STATE and TERRITORY. Also the Census of the Inliabitants 
 of the United States for 1810, and the Exports for 20 years. 
 
 4th. edition, greatly improved and enlarged. Price 2 dollars, bound. 
 
 " Much useful, geograpliical, and miscellaneous information is compressed 
 into this pocket volume, and with the Maps it will be found a very convenient 
 book for persons in general, and more particulariy for those who are travel- 
 ling in the United States. It is well printed, and the maps are neatly exe- 
 cuted." .American Beviev) and Literary Journal. 
 
 THE AMERICAN MINOR ATLAS ; 4to. containing the same Maps 
 as the preceding. Pi-ice 150 cents, half bound. 
 
 SCRIPTURE ATLAS, containing 10 4to. -Maps, viz. 1. Journeyings of 
 the Children of Israel from Rameses to the Land of Promise ; 2. Map of Ca- 
 naan as promised to Abraham and his posterity ; 3. Map of Egj'pt ; 4. Map 
 of the places recorded in the five Books of Moses ; 5. Map of Canaan in the 
 time of Joshua; 6. Map of the purveyorships in the Reign of Solomon; 
 7. Syria and Assyria ; 8. Map of the Dominions of Solomon ; 9- Map of the 
 Lapd of Moriah, or Jerusalem and the adjacent country ; 10. Map of the 
 Travels of the Apostles. Price 150 cents half bound. 
 
 A GENERAL ATLAS, being a collection of MAPS of the WORLD and 
 QU.\RTERS, their principal Empires, Kingdoms, &c. Containing 58 
 Maps and Charts, viz. 1. The World ; 2. ditto Mercator's projection ; 3. 
 North America; 4. United States ; 5. Eastern States, with part of Canada ; 
 6. Middle and Western States ; 7. Southern States ; 8. North Western 
 Territories ; 9. Vermont; 10. New-Hampshire ; 11. Maine ; 12. Massachu- 
 setts ; 13. Rhode-Island ; 14. Connecticut ; 15. New-York ; 16. New-Jersey ; 
 17. Pennsylvania ; 18. Delaware ; 19. Maryland ; 20. Virginia ; 21 . Noith- 
 Caroliua ; 22. South-Carolina ; 23. Georgia ; 24. Kcutucky ; 25. Tennessee ; 
 
MISCELL\XEOUS. ;. 
 
 26. Mississippi Territory ; 2". Oliin : 28. Upper Territories; 29. Louisiana ; 
 30. Missouri Territory ; 31. West IiiiUes ; .32. Cluirt otdo. ; 33. SoLith 
 America ; 34 Kurope; 3.5. llussia, Northern P.trt ; 36. Southern do ; 37. 
 Sweden, Uenniurk, Norway ; 38. Pol.ind ; 39. Scotland ; 40. England and 
 Wales; 41. Ireland ; 42. Netherlands ; 43. United Provinces ; 44-. Gcr- 
 ni.Tny ; 45. France ; 46. Switzerland ; 47. Italy; 48. Spain and Portugal; 
 49. Turkey in Viurope ; .'50. North Sea; 51. Asia; 52. llindo.stan; 53. 
 Turkey in Asia ; 54. Islands betveen China and New Holland ; 55. New 
 South Wales ; 56. Africa ; 57. Countries round the North Pole ; 58. Cap- 
 tain Cook's Discoveries. In 4to. Price 5 dollars, half bound. 
 
 SHEET IVI.VPS of the UNITED ST ATIS and of all the STATES and 
 TERRITORIES, SOUTH AMERICA, Brazil, Chili, Peru, Caracas, isc 
 Pi'ice 75 cents each, colourcil. 
 SHEET MAPS of EUROPE, ASLV, AFRICA, and the Kingdoms into 
 •which they arc divided. Price 50 cents each, coloured. 
 
 ATI>\S MINIMUS, or a new set of POCKET M\PS of various 
 EMPIRES, KIXGDO.MS, and STATES, with Geographical e.vtracts 
 relative to e.ich. Drawn and Engraved by J. GIBSON. 
 In IBmo. Price I dollar, half bound. 
 
 THE TRAVELLERS DIRECTORY ; or, a POCKET CO]MP ANION 
 
 showing the coui-se of the Main Road from Pliiladelphia to New York, and 
 from Philadelphia to Washington, with descriptions of the jdaces through 
 which it passe>:, and the intersections of the cix)ss roads. Illustrated vith an 
 account of such remarkable objects as are generally iiitei'estingto travellers. 
 From actual survey. By S."S. MOORE and T." W. JONES. 
 Second Edition. In 8vo. Price 2 dollars, bound. 
 " The design and contents of this volume are fully expressed in the title- 
 page. The work is handsomely, and we believe, correctly e.\ecuted. Every 
 traveller on those roads will find it a useful and instructive companion. The 
 pL-'.i. of this directory is so judicious, that we hope the authors may find it 
 ("or their interest to extend it to other parts of the United States. 
 
 Amer. Rev. and Lit. Jour. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE E.\R TH, AND ANIMATED NATURE. By 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. A new edition, with con-cctions and additions. 
 By WILUAM TURTON, M. 1). 
 
 Fellow of the Linnoean Society. In 4 vols. 8vo. ^^ ith 57 plates. 
 (In the press, and will be published in Julj".) 
 
 lUSTORICAL MEMOIRS of MY OWN TIME, from 1772, to 1784 
 By Sir NATHANIEL WILLIAM AVRAXALL. 
 
 In 8vo. (In the press.) 
 
 DR. RUSSEL'S HISTORY OF MODERN EUROPE, continued dowa 
 to the Treaty of Amiens in 1802. 
 
 By CH.\RLES COOTE, L.L.D. 
 
 The large annual impressions, which for more than thirty years were cal- 
 led for to supply the demand for this excellent Wo;k in Eiighand, ni.ay be 
 considered conclusive evidence of its merits in the public estimation. During 
 the iinthoi-'s life time, each snceeeding edition was improved by himself: — 
 he lived to make it a perfect Compendium of Modern History, and has left 
 it an honourable monument of his fame and talents. 
 
 This work contains A Hrief View of the Decline and Fall of the Roman 
 Empire. The Rise of Mo<lern Iving<1oms generally. A particulai- History of 
 the French Moaarchy. A paiticular llistorv of Spain from the Doininioa of 
 
 ■A % 
 
6 PRINTED FOR M. CARF-V, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 the Visigoths. Italy, with the rise and progress of tlie Temporal power ofttie 
 Popes. Britain — from its relinquishment by the Romans. Irelanil. TIik 
 Gtrraan Empire — from Charlemiigne. The Empire of Constantinople — till 
 its overthrow. Empire of the Arabs. Rise and progress of the Tui-ks, and 
 fall of the (jreek Empire. History of Portugal. View of t'ue Progress of Navi- 
 gation. Conquests in the East and West Indies. Discovery of America, &c. 
 History of Sweden, Dcnm u-k, Norway, Russia, Poland, antl Prussia. North 
 America — as connected with Eui-opean History. The rise, progress, and ter- 
 mination of the Revolutionary War of this Country. The progress and im- 
 mense aggrandizement of the British power in India. The Wai-s of the 
 French Revolution till ihe Treaty of Amiens. A very comprehensive and 
 highly useful Chronolos^j, . 
 
 Third American edition. In 5 vols. 8vo. Price 15 dollars, Bound. 
 
 MEMOIRS &c. of GENERAL MOREAU, with a fac simile of his 
 last letter to his v.ife, and im enerraved plaji of the passage of the RhiikO 
 at Strasbourg. By JOHN PHILIPPART, Esq. 
 
 author of " Memoirs of Bernadotte," kc. &c. In 8vo. Price 2 dollars, in 
 boards. 
 
 " A faithful account is here given of the campaigns in Germany and Italy 
 since 1794, as far as they relate to the operations of General Moreau ; also, 
 a detailed account of the siege of Kehl, and the movements immediately pre- 
 vious and subsequent to that event, from the celebrated work by General 
 Dedon, publislied at Paris, and which is illustrated by a most coiTcct map, 
 flescribing every operation at the siege of Kehl, as well as the passage of the 
 Ilhine, enccted by General Moreau in the environs of Strasbourg. 
 
 '* These, and every other event, connected with the public and private 
 life of General Moreau, the author has drawn together, and embodied with 
 the utmost fn^elity and circumspection.'' Eur. Mag. JMavck, 1814. 
 
 NAVAL HISTORY of the UNITED STATES, from the commence- 
 ment of tlie REVOLUTIONARY WAR. By THOMAS CLARK. 
 2nd. edition. In '2 vols. I'imo. Price 2 dollars, in boards. 
 
 THE OLIVE BRANCH; or, FAULTS ON BOTH SIDES, FED- 
 ERAL and DEAIOCRATIC. A serious Appeal on the Necessity of mu- 
 tual Forgiveness a;id Harmony. By M. CAREY. 
 Seventh edition, enlarged. In 8vo. Price 275 cents, handsomely bound. 
 
 " Faction is the madness of the many for the benefit of a few." 
 
 " Frenzied be the head — palsied be the hand — ^that attempts to destroy 
 the union." Oen. Eaton. 
 
 " Truths would you teach — or save a sinking land ; 
 
 •• All fear — none aid von — and few understand." Pope. 
 
 •' Every king<.lom divided "ag.'sinst itself, is brought to DESOLATION." 
 
 Matt. xii. 25. 
 
 "In dissensione nidla sains conspicitur." C'lCsar. 
 
 " If we pay a proper regard to truth, we shall find it necessary not only 
 to condemn our friends upon some occasions, and commend our enemies, but 
 ;dso to co.nmend anil condemn the same persons, as different circumstances 
 may require ; for it is not to be imagined, that those who are engaged in :., 
 srreat atfaii-s, should always be piu-suing false or mistaken measures; so 
 neither is it probable that their conduct can at all times be exempt from : 
 error.' Polybius. 
 
 THE PARIS SPECTATOR ; or, L'HERMITE DE LA CHAUSSEB 
 B'ANTIN. ConUiining Observations upon PARISIAN MANNERS and 
 CUSTOMS at the Commencement of the Nineteenth Century. Translated 
 iixm the French, By WILUAM JERDAN. 
 
 luSvofc. 18mo. Price 225 cents, in Boards. 
 
 This lively and entertaining View of the State of Society in Paris, at tlie . 
 aiqst eventful period ot" its anuals, obtained great celebrity in that City, and-. 
 
ISnSCELLANEOUS. r 
 
 tius been uiianimouRly accoiucd a high rank among the periodical productions 
 of French literature. The amusements, annoyances, pleasures, and discom- 
 forts of a Paris fashionable life, are sketche<i with a humorous and witty 
 hand ; nor has there ever issued from the press of that covmtry, a more ani- 
 mated and close imitation of our own exquisite Spectator. 
 
 ENGLAND'S JEGIS ; or the Militan- Enei-gies of the Constitution. 
 
 By JOHN CAR r WRIGHT, Esq. 
 ♦'There were in Israel eight hundred thousand valiant men that drew the 
 <?word ; and the men of Judah were five hundred thousand." Samuel. 
 From the third London edition. (In the Press.) 
 
 RULES AND REGUl.ATIONS for the SWORD EXERCISE of the 
 CAVALRY. By JOHN HEWES. 
 
 With '28 plates. In 8vo. Price 250 cents, bound. 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE DRILL, and the method of perfonnini? 
 the Nineteen Manauvres. By Lieut. JOHN RUSSP^LL. 
 
 With 53 plates. In 12mo. Price 125 cents, in boarvi's. 
 
 THEAMERICVN MISCELLANY. Prose and verse. Original and 
 Selected. In 2 vols. 12mo. Price 2 dollars, bound. 
 
 AN ACADEMY FOlf GROWN HORSEMEN. Containing the com- 
 jdetcst Instructions for Walking, Trotting, Cantering, Galloping, Stum- 
 bling, and Tumbling. By GEOFREY GAMBADO, Esq. 
 Riding Master, Master of the Horse, and Grand Equerry to the Doge of 
 N'entte. 
 
 Embellished witli J2 Caricatures, from designs by Bunbury. In 12mo. 
 Price 75 cents, in boards. 
 
 " To turn and ^\ ind a fierj' Pegasus, 
 
 " And « itch the world with noble Horsemanship." 
 
 " With great delight do we hail this satisfactory reimblication of a work 
 originally pr.blished before our critical e.vistcnc'.", but always the source of 
 hi'arly merriment and gratification to us. The singular and truly original 
 liumour of the writing, and the unrivalled burlesque of the plates, have al- 
 ways made these Iwoks prime favourites, with all who had any relish for 
 harmless wit and satire, by which no individual is liurt. liTit. Cnt. 
 
 THE MORAL MIRROR ; or, aLOO!:iNG GLASS for Sots, Parasites, 
 'Gluttons, Clowns, Praters, Tiine-Servers, Preteiulers, Knaves, Knights of 
 the post. Atheists, Zealots, Hypocrites, ^c. kc. selected from the "Char- 
 acters," by BUTLER. Author of Hudibras. lu 24nio. Price 50 cents, 
 half bound . 
 
 CHESTERFIELD TRAVESTIE ; or, SCHOOL FOR MODERN 
 MANNERS. With Caricatures from Drawings by ROWLANDSON. 
 In 12mo. Price 63 cents, in Ixsards. 
 
 THE CRIMINAL RECORDER ; or, an AWFUL BEACON to the 
 RISING GENERATION of both Sexes, erected by the arm of Justice to 
 ])ersuade them from the dreadful Miseries of Guilt. Collected from au- 
 thentic documents. By A FRIEND OF MAN. Witli 6 Engravings. 
 In 12mo. Price 1 dollar, bound. 
 Extract from the Preface. 
 
 " The object of the editor of this volume, is to present to the heads of 
 families in the United Stales, select and monitory stories of guilt and misery, 
 in a foiTi* M'hich may facilitate their precious labours in the domestic scene. 
 The guardians, the directors, and the nearest friends of thoughtless childhooil, 
 ancl unreflecting youth may find, perhaps, tliat they cannot procure a more 
 convenient auxiliary in the periormance of those duties on which de- 
 pend the peace of their families, and the reputation and happmcsa of tht- 
 tender objects of tlicir an.xious care." 
 
8 I'RIX FED FOR M. CAUEV, I'HIL.VDELPHI.V. 
 
 THE HOUSE CARPEXTEIVS BOOK of PRICES, and Rules for Mea- 
 suring and Valuintjall their diffcrLMit kinds of work. 
 
 In l'2mo. Price 75 cents, half bound. 
 
 THE IMMORTAL MENTOR ; or, MAN'S UNERRING GUIDE to 
 f» Health}', Wealtliy and Happy life. In ;) parts. 
 
 By LEWIS CORNARO, Dr. FRANKLIN, and Dr. SCOTT. 
 
 Reason's mKosc pleasure, all the joys of sense 
 Lie in three words — Ht'alth, Peace, and Competence, 
 Blest health consists with tenipei-ance alone. 
 And Peaee, O Virtue ! ]ieace is all thy own. Pope. 
 
 In 12nio. Price 1 dollar, bound. 
 
 A SENTIMENTAL .TOURNEY thrOHe;h France and Italy. 
 
 By LAWRENCE STEKNE. 
 
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 BY M. CAREY, 
 
 (Price One Dollar in boards, J 
 
 The Heart and the Fancy, 
 
 OR 
 
 YALSINORE. 
 
 .i TALE. 
 BY MISS BENGER. 
 
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 Gentlemen's Masasine, Vol, Q^^pae^e 161, 
 

 THIS DAY IS PUBLISHED, 
 
 By J\L Carey J 
 
 (Price Tivo Dollars in boards,) 
 
 VARIETIES OF LIFE; ' 
 
 OR, 
 
 Conduct and Consequences. 
 
 A NOVEL, IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " SKETCHES OP CHARACTER." 
 
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 .slang of abigails and vale^ all is in its place, all is true to na- 
 ture." ,iu^ustati Reviexv, Oct. 1815. 
 
 V\ 
 
r^ 
 
 THE HEART AND THE FANCY, 
 
 VALSINORE 
 
 A TJLE. 
 
 BY MISS BENGER 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 PLBLISIIED BY M. CAREY, No. 121, CHESNUT STREEI; 
 AND WELLS & LILLY, BOSTON. 
 
 1816, 
 
 7, 
 
 c. 
 
m^ 
 
5C- 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN the followinsc Talc, tlie scenes undoubtedly refer 
 to soni<^ period piior to that state of waiiare whidi has 
 so 1 >n.2j prevailed in Europe : but to one which is evi- 
 dently not far reuT^te from our own times. The princi- 
 pal persona2;e behun^ decidedly to the present age : 
 his sentimeuls have been imbibed from our friends and 
 compatriots ; his virtues are exemplified by our living 
 cotemj)orarics ; and we have lately witnessed the tri- 
 umi)b »f Ids piiilanthropic principles. 
 
 Valsinore is no chimera of a romantic imagination; 
 his story may be fictitious ; but his charact.r, divested 
 of the singularity which might have attacbed to it half a 
 cent;iry ago. is no longer even of tbc novel cast. Such 
 a being is not only (»f our age, but oiir }K'op!e ; liis pro- 
 totypes are <!iscovcred in that country where tlic pro- 
 gress jfeivdizatim is still attested by tlie diffusion of 
 trut!i and b<>ni vohnce ; by respect for the noblest pre- 
 rogatives of luinvn fiature, and for the best and dear- 
 est iiitci-cst of mankind. 
 
 A 
 
'^^^^^'^^/r/^. 
 
 ALSINORE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE curate of Beaclulale was takin^^liis usual mor- 
 ning walk thron,gh the shrubbery, so completely absorb- 
 ed ill meditations on his beloved plants, that he heard 
 not the shrill voice behind, exclainiiiig, Valsinore ! Val- 
 sinoi*c ! the mystery must be one day discorcred ! He 
 quietly pursued his steps to the green-house, and was 
 most aftVctionatcly greeting a new-blown Hydrangia, 
 when Celia Gladwin came running towards him, almost 
 brealliless with haste and perturbation, and at last 
 touching his shoulder, cried, " So, Mr. Bruce, you have 
 not kc})t your word ; you have not yet revealed to Her- 
 bert Altamont his obligations to that unknown benefac- 
 tor." The good curate, who would have been seriously 
 alarmed by such symptoms of inquietude in any other 
 person, coolly turned round, and confessed the truth, 
 that he had broken his word, because he forgot to keep 
 it. " You must forget no more," returned his female 
 complainant ; and then drawing u]) her long, lean neck, 
 and raising her arm to the configuration of the handle 
 of a tea-urn, she began to speak, whilst Mr. Bruce fully 
 prepared for the thcalrieal exhibition, picked ofTthc dead 
 leaves from a Fusda, and appeared to listen with atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The Celia in question resembled not the Celias of 
 poetry and romance ; she had reached the stand-still of 
 life, and was not unwilling to assume that matronly ti- 
 tle of J/?-s. which is sometimes permitted to attest the 
 triumplis of spins-jU'ship ; but however ready she might be 
 t© disclaim pretentious to ju^enilit^ , it was ijnpossible te. 
 
 A2 
 
 / 
 
fe vAL&lNORB. 
 
 discover in her the marks of approaching age; she re.- 
 tainvnl all the ohisticity of yoiitli or even of chihlhood. 
 N') girl of fifteen had more vivid impressions, no hor 
 more energetic impulses, more rapid movements. Ra- 
 iher ardent tKan tender, she was seldom seen to weep 
 ii'om pity, but often to skip with gladness. Sorrow 
 was no inmate of her bosom, for of hoj)e and credulity 
 .s]ic had a fuiad inexhaustible, and to siispicicns or selfish- 
 ness was wholly a stranger. Her actions inspired ad- 
 )nii'ation ; yet was it difficult to see her, and not to smile 
 at her oxpence ; for to a tail, lank figure, and a dark, 
 homely visage, to a person in which Time was baulked 
 of his spoils by the original penury of nature, she added 
 that picturesque style of (h'ess, equally distant fi-om 
 procisif n and elegance, and which at once offends the 
 ^rave, and diverts the gay. 
 
 Yet was Celia ever brooding on visions of celestial 
 beauty, for the basis of her character was romance ; she 
 delighted to trace the progress of mutual sentiment, and 
 had cases and precedents without number concerning the 
 tender passion. Her own heart had once been eminent- 
 ly susceptible of/a/ici/.^f not of love ; but her chagnns 
 had never b- en deep or permanent, and so quickly did 
 ©ne «lream efface anotlier, that she was now persuaded 
 she had never really suffered but for one object, the fa- 
 ther of Herbert Altamont ; and it was probably this cir- 
 eumstarice wliich really prom])tPd her to take so warm 
 an interest in his future destiny. Of late, indeed, her 
 speculations had assumed a iiigher cast : she talked and 
 thought of the Roman senate, and the House of Com- 
 mons ; of patricians and peers j of the forum and the 
 bar ; but all with some mysterious reference to Herbert ; 
 and a secret being ahnost as necessary to lier happiness 
 as an idol, she had idioms and gestures of her own to 
 indicate the most common occurrence. With this vo- 
 cabulary her intimate friends were so perfectly familiar, 
 tin\t when Mr. Bruce saw her enter the green-house with 
 suc'ii theatrical agitation, he expected only a repetition of 
 the emphatic phrases to which he had been long accus- 
 tomed to Ustca with indulgcr.t complacency : « Mr 
 
VAXSINORE. 5 
 
 Bnicc, the lilcsaveappi'oacluiic:, it is time to malie tlie 
 essay on llerbei't's cluiractcr, I see his fatliei 's spirit in 
 him ; \m fathei- was foiinedto vvin all iiearts. and c!;anu 
 all eves. Descender! tVoni one oftiie iidbl; st h<iiLses in 
 Iieland, lie sjjeiit his little pati'imony willt th.e !ib:'i'ality 
 of his nation and his tempir ; hut in notliinj^ that dis- 
 ^^I'ac'Ml liim.'' *» 1 dare say not," said Ale. JJriice, who, 
 j)erceiviiiji; an insect abont to settle on the p(>tals of his 
 //;/,/ra»^w, took out his microscope, and beij;an to ex- 
 amine it. '* Ob ! he \Tas .ajallant as Alcibiades, and 
 generous as Cyrus ; he was the only man I ever saw 
 Yvhoditlnot lose dignity in walking;,' a minuet. I al- 
 ways called him my Grandisoii,and be perliaps thoiii^iit 
 mo Ids Clementina. Ah ! first impressions arc indelible. 
 ncvei'f never to be erased.'* 
 
 <• [ hope not always so, Miss Gladwin." " "NVhy 
 I do not mean to make a rule without exception : for 
 T l)elievc Altamont's widow loves you as mucli as if you 
 hud been her first husband. Well, characters differ ; 
 m'l had^c is constancy f I shall Jilways cherish Herbert 
 for his father's sake ; and therefore, Mr. Bruce, I do 
 solemn/// conjure you to reveal to him this very day, the 
 mysterious benefaction of Valsinore." *' That is surely 
 his mother's cotjeern, he certaiidy is now of an age to 
 choose a profession " "A j)rofession ! would you con- 
 demn him to the sorry drudgery of a prof -ssion ? No, 
 let him go to c )llege with Edward Valiancy." " Ad- 
 mitted ; but let this be done w ilh some specific o!»ject." 
 " //ts object," retorted Celia, jerking her elbow with a 
 vchemency that alarmed Mr. Bruce for the glass win- 
 dow, " his object must be honor, his goal, glory. Why 
 don't you see his transcendent talents ? don't you know 
 liowsupei'ior he is to your pupil Valiancy?" ** They 
 ai'e different, hut perlia|)s not uneq'ial.'^ " Not unequal ! 
 this is all modesty. You disparage Flerbert, because he 
 is your wife's son, and extol Valiancy^ because lie is the 
 grandson of Lord Marmiton," **5iiO, Miss Gladwin^ 
 no human being can impute to me such flattery ; this is 
 the first and last conriexion I have ever formed with the 
 great, and 1 am, you know, indebted for it to the re- 
 
VALSIXORE. 
 
 eommoudation of jMr. Do L:\hf who was williiig, in tliB 
 way, to requite !iy wile's kindiics.s, in giving pi-olcction 
 to his daughter Cordelia." 
 
 «'Aye, ihat Do Lille is an Apollo." "Surety," re- 
 torted Mr. Bruce,^ in whom the insinuation against his 
 independenco iwtd inspir;'d unwonted cnci'gy, " surely 
 he is buta Mere^iry." "Why he is not so grand a 
 creature as mt/ Altamont; Herbert resembles hhih ; ' 
 Herbert will be, must be a great man. I see geniii 
 Lis eyes ; I discover talents in his translations ; and 
 certainly construes Cicoro, or Demosthenes, with nu;;. 
 spirit than any other person 1 have ever known. 1 fore- 
 see he will be the first orator in the house." <« My dear 
 Miss Gladwin, how unlikely it is that Herbert should ever 
 sit in Parliamerit. You know the provision made by 
 Valsinore is not large : my income exT)ii-cs with me ; 
 and should I ever be so happy as to return to Switzer- 
 land, I should not be able to dispose of my property in 
 that country in his iavor. The best lesson, therefore, I 
 can give to Herbert, is moderation and diligence. By 
 pursuing a profession, he may make himself hai)py and 
 respectable; without it, he must either languish in ob- 
 scurity ,. or crouch to dependence." "Well, well, keep 
 biityour v/ord; lettlie escritoir be produced this night;, 
 let the letter be read, let him learn to venerate the name 
 of Yalsinore." "With all my heart," said Mr. Bruce, 
 ^' I will persuade my wife to perform this task, which^ 
 pei'haps, as you say, has been too long delayed*" 
 
 Here, finding by his watch that he had exceeded his 
 usual time for going to his pupils, he tenderly stroked a 
 MlmosOf ami turned into one path, whilst Celia, to allay 
 the tumultuous sensasions the conference had excited^ 
 darted through another, overturtiing with tlie train of 
 her gown a beautiful myrtle, just opening its delicate 
 white blossoms, the sight of which might have discom- 
 posed even Mr. Bruce, who, having spent his childhood 
 in Switzerland, of which his mother was a native, had 
 imbibed in its romantic scenery an ardent passion for 
 the beauties of natiu'e ; and though married to an amia- 
 ble woman, was disposed to consider flowers as the loye- 
 liest, if not the best, pai't of the creation* 
 
fm])resspd uali respect for tlr- n;;!, s-nj^ :;i(.,;;:i virtues 
 »f Miss Gladwin, ho looked with tender indul^'cnce on 
 her ex(r;vvag;inec, find never suffered his oi'derly muscles 
 to bo drseoinposed by lier oddity to indocorous risibility. 
 Althn;ie:h at first sifj;Iit tliis sijisjidiir beinjs,' had the air 
 of a recluse, she bad lived in the world, and,bcin.i^ i^en- 
 C'ellv connected, was admitted with her small stipend to 
 ^' ' is called the best society. Many al'asiiiojiabh^ la- 
 cleomed her to the toilette, wfto would not bave 
 :• ii seen with the iil-dresscd creature in public for aii 
 r;." wnrh!. S!ic had correspondents by do?e!JS, from 
 V horn she received long and tender episjtles, in whicU 
 -he was addj'csscd as the »♦ best and dearest Ceiia ;" the 
 ■ oiiLi and only behaved." Sometimes, indeed, on her 
 "■-.lis to tliesc professing friends, she was struck with tla; 
 dis; irity in tneir letters and tlieir looks ; but then, tho 
 recollection of some tender parting came opportunely 
 o console her for the frigid meeting. Enthusiasm war, 
 • ransferred from the pres'f nt to the absent; and stiil 
 -•vTvolvingin one circle of amiable egotism, her dream of 
 life, like the siiifting sands hi the hour glass, changed 
 ITS position, but not its course. For the last ciglit years, 
 and almost IVom the commencement of her acquaintancvJ 
 with the afHicted relict of her cherished frst lore, aU 
 other confHkMits and correspondents had been secondary 
 objects of interest ; her /if a/if, and even her/a«C7/, setm- 
 «'d stationary at Beachdale. Nor did her friendship va- 
 ry, wlieii Mrs. Altamont consented to become the w ife 
 oftlic amiaide yiv. Bruce ; and since tliat e\ent she had 
 regidarly spent some months of every summer at the* 
 vicarage, where she caught the spirit of her classical 
 circle with c!iihl-like docility, and learnt to talk of the 
 heroes of Greece and Rome with as much fluency as of 
 Lovelace and Sir Charles Gi andison. This pedantry 
 flowed IVom sywipathy, and like every thing in her char- 
 acter, was bl nded with romance ; even her benevolence 
 partook of this mixture ; and after having diligently as- 
 sisted Mrs. Bruce, in working for the poor, and comfort- 
 ing the afflicted, she found her reconi])encc in imagining 
 some state of society iii which no luisery should exist- 
 
 ,(M 
 
8 YALSINOK£. 
 
 If ever there was a scene congenial to such Utopian 
 visi'ins, it was to be found in Mr. Bruco's s'udy : tli« 
 world was there excluded, and peace and concord reign- 
 ed within. It was a scone of quiet, home-bred hapj)i- 
 ness, supplying a regular succession of cheap, salubri- 
 ous pleasures. Theroom oi)ened on a lawn, on which 
 the syringa and rose acacia now iijtermingled their lux- 
 urious bljssom. The lawn sloped towards delicious 
 fields. A lofty amphitheatre of hanging woods rose on 
 the otiier side, concealing in its first ascent the ambitious 
 hill, whose sunjmit bounded the horizon. 
 
 It was a sweet pastoral landscape, arid never was wis- 
 dom piesentcd under a more engaging form, than in this 
 happy academy ; wliere, in !iis own do'iscstic circle, Mr. 
 Bruce aluiost forgot the Lake of Geneva, and the en- 
 chanting scenery of Lausanne. His two pupils, Her- 
 bert x\ltamontand Edward Valiancy, had each his clas- 
 sical pursuit. At her work table appears Mrs. Brace, 
 altf^rnately occu]ued with her needle or her book, often 
 casting an afTectionate glance on her son, or exchanging 
 a few friendly Vvords with her ever-approved and api)ro- 
 ving husband. Near her sits Cordelia, the youngest of the 
 group, now veiging on thirteen, who has for some years 
 been llevhert's jnipil, and cheerfully pursues her allotted 
 task, but always suspends her diligence when she hears 
 the voice of her preceptor. It was the privilege of this lit- 
 tle community, that though each had his in.lependent pur- 
 suit, none was insulated from the rest; thei-e was no 
 solitary interest, no undivided pleasure. When Mr, 
 Bruce and his young friends dwelt with delight on some 
 splendid classical passage, Mrs. Bruce, in noticing tiic 
 expression of each animated countenance, had her share, 
 and perhaps the largi\st share of the enj )yment. 
 
 Another privilege belonging to this social academy, 
 was its perfect exemption from Pythagorean discipline. 
 Even in th^ hours of study, no other laws and limita- 
 tions were imposed on the liberty of speech, than those 
 w')ich good sense and good breeding dictated. In a 
 laiger circle such liberality might liave proved pcrni- 
 «ious 5 but here, m tliis family of Lai'mony a»d love, it 
 
 I 
 
 M 
 
YAISINORE. 9 
 
 producod only that flow of cliocrfiilnoss, wliich is the pu- 
 rest source of bcnovoloncr ; and improvcuu'iit was not 
 really itnjK'ded, th'mi;li s^aioty and {^ood huniniir wne 
 essentially promotd, by occasional dij^ressions from 
 books to the "bsr-rvations thry su.2;gcstcd. Hcib'st was 
 sparinsj in iiis use of this p!Mvilra;(^ ; but to Valiancy, it 
 formed tlie fii'st blessinj^ of existence. Lively and de- 
 sultory, he fluttered from paqe to pas:e with su<h vola- 
 tile rapidity, that he would seem to have tasted no beau- 
 ties, when he had in reality extracted all. He bad a 
 strona^ relish for husnour, and a ni<ist poii^nant sense of 
 ridicule; l)utthis mcninj^ he was so uiuisiially serious, 
 that not even tho entrance of Celia Gladwin excited his 
 spirits. He had now enterrd on the last week of his 
 residence at Reachdale ; and thoii.e;!) hy the sudden 
 death of his elder brother, o.j w horn he conceived both 
 his mother and ^grandfather to have lavished undue par- 
 tiality, he was himself put in possessif)n of the rank and 
 consideration he had formerly envied, ho could not with- 
 out regjret relinquish his accust<nned place in the friend- 
 ly circle, where his heart had been first awakened by 
 kindness to gratitiule and sympathy. 
 
 It had been the intention of Lord Marmiton, who, on 
 his son's death, had taken upon him the sjiiardianship of 
 his .e^randsons, that both Edward Valiancy and his 
 brotljcr, till tliey ai-rived at a ])roper aa;e to be sent to 
 colles;e, shoidd receive under his own e}e a domestic ed- 
 ucation. Mr. De Lille, a j:;entleman who had been for- 
 merly useful to His Lordship in a diplomatic underta- 
 kin.e^, was the person to whmn he entrusted the care o? 
 their tuition. It was bow-ever soon siie;ajested by this 
 gentleman, that a separation between the brothers was 
 absolutely necessary to their future welfare ; and it was 
 owina; t'» his interfer-'nce, that Edward was sent to 
 Beaelidale. in w liose amiable domestic circle he forij^ot 
 to he perverse, and found no tc.nptation to be ani^ry. 
 His literary pro?^r< ss eonrsnonded with his moral im- 
 provements. Oripi'inally desie;ned for t!ie church, it was 
 thouc,'lit necessary to make him a scholar : but now 
 that bis destination was changed, it waa Lord Marmi- 
 
10 YALSINOKr, 
 
 ton's earnest wish that he should be ushered intosocicl 
 more conversant with the world. A few years ago Val- 
 iancy would liave hailed with rapture the approach of 
 liberty ; but now he was serious and Herbert almost 
 dejected,* for he had not only to endure the loss of his 
 friend's society, but to strug.^le with his own eager- 
 ness to aecom|»any him to college, to silence the whis- 
 pers of ambition, and calm the ardent, aspiring soul 
 that now languished at the name of tranquility. 
 
 Nor was even Cordelia without her cares ; since Her- 
 bert, who, in com non with all jiivenil? masters, was 
 apt to be somewhat rigorous in his exactions, had late- 
 ly taxed her with want of memory and attention, pro- 
 testing his astonishment, that she, who had heard so 
 much and so long of Gr-cian and Roman history, should 
 yet know it so little. The timid girl, who, whatever 
 repugnance slie might occasionally discover to the re- 
 quisitions of Mrs. Bruce, to him, at least, was ever 
 loyal and obedient ; after shedding some bitter tears, un- 
 seen, unnoticed, resolved to repel the charge, heroical- 
 ly resumed her studies, read by stealth, and with sueh 
 ardour, tliat she almost fancied she had known the he- 
 roes of Marathon and Thermopylai, She commented on 
 what rshe had read, and, inspired by a mind superior to 
 her own, soon produced a comparison between the pat- 
 riots of Greece and Rome, whieli would not have dis- 
 graced her s'vere preceptor. This task atchieved, 
 there yet remained another, of far greater difficulty-^in 
 what inanner to present to his eye, for whom alone it 
 M'as written, the honorable record of her diligence and 
 docility. And now, how many plans were suggested 
 and ri'J'jcted ; liow many questions canvassed and dis- 
 missed ; how many thouglits and feelings, till then un- 
 Jcnown, were con)plicated in this first secret, and were 
 harboured in her innocent bosom. To give it to him, 
 might appear too bold; to slip it into his desk, too cun- 
 Jiin^-; she fears not his censure, butfeolsshe could not 
 beai'the cold, unthankfid silence ; or, bitterer still, the 
 faint, forced praise. Already, on this delicate point, 
 she iias ac;!'uircd a new facidty of discrimination, that 
 
VALSINORE, Ji 
 
 sense of dignity shrinking from intrusion, that pride 
 mingled with humility, which asserts itself by gentle- 
 ness and forbearance ; that tender, timid conscious- 
 ness, so sensitive to alarm, so jeah)us of reproach, 
 wiiich belongs exclusively to the female soul. The re- 
 sult of all her long deliberation, was to hide her perform- 
 ance in Mrs. Bruce's worlc-basket, leaving to chance a- 
 lone to make the momentous disclosure. 
 
 Miss Gladwin, had also ample subject for reflection, 
 in the expected conununication. She took up the news- 
 paper, but in reading tlie debates, at every animated 
 speech, was ready to exclaim, *' And sucli shall be Al- 
 tamont !" Nor was she satisfied with adjudging to him 
 the prize of senati)rial eloquence. In fancy she had 
 Jong since burthciied him with the oppressive charge of 
 the budget ; and being led by this reflection, to specu- 
 late on future blessings to be derived from his adminis- 
 tration, she exclaimed, involuntarily, " What a conso- 
 lation it would be. to seethe national debt paid oft"?"* 
 <*For which," cried Valiancy, you require notliing nn'rc 
 than the philosopher's stone !" " O yes," said Celia, 
 who always overlooked raillery in her zeal for argument, 
 ** we require a patriot king, and an immaculate min- 
 istry." «* Dear Madam, do you require otdy tliis? You 
 believe then in the ti'ansmigration of souls." •» Who, 
 I, believe in any article not to be found in the church 
 of England ?" <• You admit the existence of a])pari- 
 tions and d?emons." '* Who, 1? what do you take me 
 for ? J have no such absurdity." ♦* You at least reverence 
 the miraculous head of Januarius ?" ** Nonsense, Val- 
 iancy ; what has the head of Januarius to do with Al- 
 tamont's being Prime Minister ?" " Altanumt ! atMl is 
 it from him you expect a greater miracle than ^^ase- 
 ver wi'ouglit by alltlie .saints of the calendar?" 
 
 Celia \A as pre]>aring to demand an explana^icn. when 
 an incident occurred wliich completely^ deranged the 
 argument. 
 
 * The observation of Celia will not appear so extrara- 
 t^axit when it is known that it was made prior to the French 
 reTolutioD. 
 
 U/^ 
 
i^ VALSINORt. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE village of Beach d ale was at some distance from 
 any public icad. ami Ihe wliite walls of the vicciriige 
 Mere ho co.iplftci^ s-questcicd, tJiatit was possible to 
 spend in thciH the long'srsiinimer's-day, witlsoiit being 
 oiic.^ rsninded of the bus;y, tea'balint world. V. iiat 
 tiki) was the surj)i'ise ut its amiable inLabitants, when a 
 c;:ai*i'»t and foirwas descried, heavily rnilint;- ovi r the 
 gree.j sw I li wiuit'j imp ded its pDjjiess, tJiroiif^h the 
 lonjs; oitidij|.o< laoe, 1 ading to the, h</iise In one instant 
 the raii.iJv vveri- ail iti motion. E\en the sednte Mr. 
 E'tce pi«t(!o vn !iis {olio, and took up liis pjci^et teles- 
 cope : and LMia herself was in sucii suspense, tirat for 
 two niiu.tcs s!iv .stood still, and looked like other peo- 
 ple. CoMJeeture was now ended ; for liic caeiii;^e sti;pt, 
 an-.l the p t-so alighting fron> it was no other il;an Mr. 
 De Lille, the father i,f Cordelia. He was ins' anllj sur- 
 rounded by the whole family, all ofl". ;".ng the n.ost cor- 
 dial wtlcome. But De Liilr v. psevi ^ntly impatif nt of 
 every impedin:ent to his uiissi(>n ; and aft»'i- paying his 
 comjdiments to ail, an: m st obspqia;>usly to Valiancy, 
 he abrnotly aiinounced the o'L-ject of his visit, which 
 was to take back his Cordelia. At tlie same time 
 he assured Valiancy tliatb »th his nmthtr isnd Lord Mar- 
 miton were perfectly well, and expecting to see him 
 in his '\a.y to college. 
 
 Tl\e tears started to Cordelia's eyes, which had 
 been rrsdiant with joy at her fathers approach. To sof- 
 ten her regret, De Lille assured her she should refirtt 
 in a few weeks tr Beaehdale. ♦* But surely," cried Mi*s. 
 Bruce, "you will not lea e us to day." He was extrenie- 
 ly sorr}, it was very i^nfortimate. but it WiiS absolutely 
 necessary he should tear himself away " .-lere again 
 his fine eyes \» '^re east down, \>hilst aconscio-issmile of 
 ex'.ltatin stole .ver his countenance. But perceiving 
 his daughter's dejection, he pinched her cheek, and prK?« % 
 
VAXSINORE. IS 
 
 ■mised not to detain her more than one fortnij2;ht ; addin.^ 
 J *« I have a tlioiisaiid things to say to you/' JtJor eyes 
 ( brij^hlcncd attliis assurance, but still her heai't was hea- 
 vy ; and thou.e^li witen felicitated by her tViont's on her 
 approaching- «'\ciirsi. in. she tried to smile, she felt so 
 niiich more inelin*'d t(» nncc p, that she was jjjlad to steal 
 out of the room, softly murmitriiie; to hei-silf, «*Had it 
 been bat to-morrow, I should thon perhaps for once have 
 pleased Herbert." And for that once, tliat all-precious 
 moment, even fancy could sug'gest no equivalent. The 
 heart is too tenacious to accept a compromise. Da 
 Lille, aft ;^r s:Iancing from one to the other, with a mys- 
 terious ail*, addressing Mrs. Gladwin, pi'ofessed to have 
 some connnission w ith whicli to intrust her ; and she, 
 enchanted with any thing in the shape of a secret, in- 
 stantly arose, and with great complacency permitted 
 him to conduct her to an arbor in the garden. Val- 
 iancy followed them with his eyes ; and wiien he ob- 
 served C<dia's energetic gesticulation, and saw by the 
 violent motion of her muscles, that she was in raptu- 
 rous amazement, he exclaimed. " If David Hartley had 
 known the, I siiould not have wondi'red at his theorj 
 of thoughts and vibration." De Lille was in every 
 respect the pupil of the graces, and strikingly exemjdi- 
 fied the remark of Lord Chesterfield, tliat superficial 
 rKgancf almost invariably extorts success b( fore solid 
 nnattractive morit. Mr. Bruce Avas a man of sound 
 learning, of coireet taste, of strict piet}, and unblemish- 
 ed reputation ; but Ids maimers were cold and reser- 
 ved, ami though generally «'steemed, it w as necessary 
 that he shoi.ld be intiniatt ly known to be loved. A 
 moderate competence iuid been the boundary of his 
 ? ambitio:), and he seemed destined to live and die inqui- 
 [' et obscurity. 
 
 ' 0* Lill' ,wit!i scarcely any advantage other than a capti- 
 vnMrgcxreri'ir, though originally v ithont fortune or eon- 
 n .\i>Mis, had shaped his wa> To som.'tldng like distine- 
 ti''f>. In early life Isc had won the affections of a lovely 
 'J^ii I of famijy, who f)r his s.'.ke inci>;red the parontal 
 malediction, and was renounced by all her connexions. 
 
 B 
 
1* VALSIXOKE. 
 
 •She possessed some foi-tiDic indepciiilont of her father, of 
 Avijich Df Lillc was ])ut into possession, but Mliich was 
 soon dissipated in fashionable follies. Reduced to indi- 
 gence, he was hapi)il}- recommended as private secivta- 
 ry to Lonl iMarmiton, who wtis then going abroad in a. 
 diplomatic capacity. To this polite nobleman, l)e Lille 
 "Was foi'tunate enough to rendci-some essential services, 
 and on his return to England was invited by hun to su- 
 perintend the education of his two grandsons, till he 
 sliould be able to procure him a situation more worthy of 
 his tal-nts. De Lille contrived to rend' r this office a 
 sinecure, by getting rid of the younger Valiancy, whose, 
 brilliant capacity was but too f )r!uidable to a man of 
 his moderate attainments. Her'c therefore he lived at 
 ease, ilattei-cd and carressed by Lord Marniiton, who 
 was hap])y to discover so cheap a mode of compensating 
 former services, and trusted and courted by the moliicr 
 of his pupil, who conjmonly resided with her father-iu- 
 law, under his immediate protection. 
 ■ In the meantime, the unhappy wile of Do I/dle died, _ 
 withci'ing in her bloom at iieachdale, to which she liad ' 
 retired for cheapn* ss and privacy ; and with her last 
 breath implored Mrs. Bruce to taki^ her little Cordelia 
 under her maternal care. xVlrs. Bruce had so well per- 
 formed her promise, that Coi-dclia scarcely felt the loss 
 of either parent ; she had indeed simietimes seen her 
 father for a few days, and in common with every body 
 else, thought him the handsoniest man in the world : but 
 it was not possible, during such transient interviews, 
 to inspire all the filial love of whicli her nature was ca- 
 pable, and little could it occasion surprise, that slie was 
 alarmed by any intimation of being removed from the 
 vicarage. It was the first time such a requisition had 
 ever been made, and Mrs. Bruce had a painful surmise 
 that the separation was intended to be final ; she 
 therefore awaited with some impatience the conclusion of 
 the c mference between De Lille and Miss Gladwin. 
 Wh^n they at length rct'^rned, exultation was still more 
 strongly imprinted in !iis countenance ; Celja's eye spark- 
 led with pleasure, and most unusuuliy the crimson min- 
 
 <h» 
 
^^*j[ VAXSINOKE. 1» 
 
 glcd with the yellow in her sun-bnrnt cheeks. *<Surely," 
 whispers Valiancy to Mrs. Bruce. <*he has iKade love to 
 her." Mrs. liri.ce was in no hcniour to rcllHii the pleas- 
 antry, and never was any siirn»ise more invidious. Celia 
 w as tlie e;i;!)ti,st of fancy, hut her lieart was pure from 
 selfisii feelinj!»s : natiire hinl stampt on it an honoraUle 
 sin.2;ularity. for jscenerosity and eccentricity. A disinter- 
 ested being; is seldom undcistood and appreciated. 
 
 C :>r(hdia now thi-owin:^ her arms aromid Mrs. Bruce's 
 neck, spoke not, lest slie slioidd s;)b aloud : her fiiend, 
 equally affecf<'d, pressed her to lier bosom in silence ; 
 the a.j^itated .«;ie!, spreadini;: her hands over her face, 
 and notdarnig'to look back, was passively conducted by 
 her father to the carriaj^e, 
 
 a Very strangle," cried Valiancy, <* that my mother 
 should not Iiavc written by him, and strangei* still, that 
 he should have come to day, when. Iiad he waited till 
 next week, we mi2;ht liave.e;one toj^ther.'' 
 
 *» l)c Lille has acted with the utmost delicacy," said 
 Celia, <' he has left a letter fror.i your mother, which he 
 would not produce lest he should distress you ; and 
 he has taken aw ay his daughter, lest the sight of her 
 should offend you." 
 
 «' Offend me ! how can I be offended by Cordelia ?" 
 
 " You may happen to be displeased with licr father 
 without a cause; for was he bound to sacrifice his own 
 ha])piness, and that of a being dearer than existence 2 
 No ! no ! there are limitations to saei'ifice." 
 
 " Of wT»at sacrifice are you speaking?" " He has 
 shewn his disinterested regard, since her jointure cannot 
 be touched, and the remainder of her fortune he reserves 
 
 ronly to the chance of survivoiship." 
 ., »* For heaven's sake, of what are you speaking ?" 
 
 " You nnist exert your magnanimity ; he is married 
 to your mother." 
 
 •* Married to my mother ! impossible !" "It is true." 
 *' What, the honorable Mrs. Valiancy, tlie sister of 
 JBaron Rouvigny, the discreet, prudent widow, who has 
 lived in such strict retirement !" 
 
 " And that was the verv reason. For one instance of 
 B2 
 
16 . VALSINORB. 
 
 love in town, ilicre are known ten in the country : — then 
 they livid in the same hotise, and love is all i;itality.'* 
 *< Pray, Madam, let me hear no more of fatalities. I 
 do not believe it.'' 
 
 <' There's your mother's letter, then j will you admit 
 such evidence ?" 
 
 Valiancy tore it open, and discovering by the signature, 
 that what he had heard w as true, tlirew it down indig- 
 nantly, exclaiming, "Married ! and within two months 
 of my brother's death !" 
 
 " A most unjust aspersion," replied CcJia, they were 
 privately united tv/o months before." 
 
 ♦'What, steal a match too ! Worse and woj-.se, the ve- 
 ry climax of degradation ! and docs my grandfatlier sanc- 
 tion this union ?" 
 
 ** Assuredly, — he has set you a noble lesson of mod- 
 eration and magnanimity." 
 
 «» Oh, spare me the euh^gium of Lord Marmiton's 
 magnanimity! As well might you celebrate my mo- 
 ther's delicacy and propriety. No, if his Lordship choo- 
 ses to harbor a paranu)ur and a seducer, I shall not 
 trouble him with my presence." 
 
 " Well, sir, that obstacle will soon he removed j your 
 mother and Mr. De Lille are going abroad." 
 
 " Oh, I am glad of it, I rejoice that they can yet feel 
 ashamed." 
 
 «< And is my sweet Cordelia to go with them ?" said 
 Mrs. Bruce. 
 
 « I believe so," replied Miss Gladwin, ** hut don't 
 grieve, she will be happy with Adela." 
 
 "Oh, that was my brotlier's inten(U'd. Miss Rouvigny's. 
 fortune was to have been kept i)i the family. 1 well 
 know my nj:)thor's motive for taking cliarge of her <^<1| 
 cation ; she lias at least afforded her a warning, if n<y 
 an example." 
 
 *» She ma> be your bride, perhaps," said Celia, will- 
 ing to soften [lis imlignation. 
 
 « My bride ! never j may I perish if I ever take a 
 girl who has been brought up under Mrs. De Lille's aus- 
 
■V.vL'siA'OI.L. 
 
 picos. As to Lord Marmitoii, he must act us lie thinks 
 p!V)})f r, but for invst'ir, I never" — 
 
 Iloi-e Mr. Bruce entreated liini to bo calm. Mrs. 
 Erticc wept. Herbert looked his l"celin.e,s. Valiancy 
 was so much toncUed by this commiseration, that, check- 
 in;^ iiis violence, he only said; ♦' Leave me to myself, I 
 will endeavtjr to master the folly. 1 am not now fit for 
 society." AVith these words he rushed out of the room, 
 and retired to his own apartment. 
 
 Mrs. Bruce could not restrain her tears, at the idea 
 tliat s!ie liaUinally parted from Cordelia; and Celia, 
 willin.c^ to divrt lier thoughts from the principal subjeci, 
 remindetl ^\lv. Bruce of the promised communication. H- 
 looked at his wife, as if he feared to afllict he)', "but she 
 readily assented to the I'eqiiest ; and whikst slic left the 
 rotni to feteii the eseritoir containino; the manuscripts, 
 her husband jjere-ivins; the sui'prise in Herbert's coun- 
 tenance, thus address"d lum : ♦• You are not' i.ijnorant 
 that your father. Captain Altamont, was several years 
 in America, where be married your mother, at that time 
 in tiie bloom of yo!.*<!. He retui-ned to Europe previous 
 to the com*nenc,Mn'^)it of Ijostilities between Great Brit- 
 ain and the C'donies : and that he mii^ht not serve a- 
 jL^aiust a p•^>ple for wh^m lie f.dr 'paternal aftectioii, lie 
 sold his commissim, and leaviiij^ bis wile at Beach- 
 dal?. adventured in an expedition to one (tf the new set- 
 tlements, with tjje Iiiipeofsoon realizini^au an.ple for- 
 tune. Of the events which happened after his embarka 
 tion. it r»v.nait»s for ymir mother to inform you ; anfi 
 sh"? wiiljit the same time ex])lain what our fiicnd Miss 
 Gla Iwin means by the mysterious bencf.ietor." At this 
 moment iilrs. Bruce returned ; wlien her husband, bav- 
 in::;, as he bo])ed, facilitated her destined task, with that 
 iinjate dsdicacy vvliich nature firq lently dnies, and 
 which edicUion can never fully su])ply, quickly with- 
 drew, unwillinjij; to embarrass the expression of those 
 feeliu.s^f, wliicli the i-ecital must call up in the heart of his 
 beloved wife. 
 
 Mrs Bruce then produced lier eseritoir, from which 
 alio took out a pocket-book inscribed with the uaiue of 
 
/■ 
 
 ^S yALSINOKE. 
 
 Valsinoic. •• in tlii.s pocket-book, lieru-, n, > on wiil tind 
 a little narrative of our misfortunes, v\liich. liad it nleas- 
 0(1 heaven to take me during* your childhooil, waste have 
 served for a ni('mt)rial of our unexpected deliverance.'* 
 Here Mrs. Bruce appearirij; affected, Celia offered to 
 read the letter ; and ali^jost tearing the ])aper in her 
 cag-erness to favor Herbert with its contents, began as 
 follows : 
 
 '* My dear son, I have been in great and overwhelm- 
 in affliction, of which you, the innocent witness, were 
 happily too yoinig to partake. Lest the hand of death 
 should snatch fro;n you your only remaining'j)arcnt, she 
 submits to paper, for your future information, the events 
 which saddened the morning of your existence. 1 arri-' 
 ved in England with my husband, and for some months 
 enjoyed perfect felicity. Hostilities now commenced 
 with America ; and your father, though fondly attached 
 to military distincth)n, renounced all bopes of preferment 
 by the disposal of his commission, which he was sensi- 
 ble he could not keep without serving against my native 
 country. 
 
 An expedition of a commercial nature was at that time 
 planned for the New Settlements, and my husband, but 
 too zealous for my welfare, and that of ids child, resol- 
 ved to engage in it with the greater part of bis property, 
 not doubting hut that he should soon return to me with 
 aflflueuce at Ids disposi I. 
 
 Previous to his departure, he placed me in this quiet 
 cottage, leaving in his agent's hands a considerable sum 
 for my use. His tempter was so sanguine, his heart so 
 genoi'ous,tbat he seemed insonsi!)le to every thing but 
 my comfort and security. When we parted, he promised 
 to return in fifteen months ; aiul though tears were steal- 
 ing from bis eyes, there was the smile of hope on his lips. 
 I know not how 1 endured the separation. I mourned 
 over him as if he had been already dead, till his first 
 better arrived ; and when I saw his writing, and recall- 
 ed his words, I seemed once more to live under his pro- 
 iection* But 1 was soon forced from our pleasant re-^ 
 
TALSINORE. , " ^^ 
 
 treat, by the failure of t!ie ai^cnt in whose hands lie had 
 placc'l ilic money destiniMl r>r niv support. 
 
 On tliis uni'xpoctcd intelligence, I liasteticd to London, 
 tli'Kigh totally ignorant oftlie turuis of business, wlicrc 
 I learnt that tliis l);ise man had appropriated to his own 
 enxd .nient the iih ney wiih which he should have ensured 
 my husband's life and property ; that lie had absconded 
 with the greater part of liis eftects, and was now shel- 
 tered from Justice in a foreign country. AVhilst 1 was 
 slill lingering in the metroptdis, unwilling to comniuni- 
 i ate such intelligence to my absent husband, a dreadful 
 iuiol' reach'-d me, that the ship in which he had sailed 
 .,as wrecked, and that all luul perished. It may ap- 
 pear strange to you that I, who had before desponded, 
 HOW resisted despair : that I clung even to doubt and 
 suspence, with ol)stiuate unbelief. But too soon the 
 confirmation came of this fatal news, which rendered 
 nie the most desolate of human beings. 1 was left with- 
 out money in a land of strange is ; of your father's re- 
 lations 1 knew nothing, but that he had renounced 
 them : of his friends as little. f»)r they had been estran- 
 ged by his long absenc*. In the great metrop(dis I 
 could scarcely ch;illcn;ve a single acquaintance. 1 was 
 precliuled from the provision to which, as an officer's 
 widow, I should have been entitled, by the sal'^ of my 
 husband's commission. The agent's fraud had inter- 
 ceptetl wluitever henelit I might have derived from other 
 resources. I ha<! no means of retiirr.ing to my native^, 
 country, and had I even been lrans[)ortcd tidther, I *i^ 
 sliould have found no home. My family were all scat- 
 teri'd, many had perished, and the survivors were drawn 
 to the Back S<^ttl "ments. 
 
 <' By the'disposal of my few valuables, I raised a 
 small smn, very inadequate to our f aure subsislence. 
 In a few months I became experienced in penury and 
 misery, and having no other resource, took in ])laiii 
 work ; in which I persisted, till I became afllicted witl* 
 a numbness in my joints, which remlered or- incapable 
 of that ex'M'tion. Then, indeed, I saw no help under 
 heaven^ and ufteu did I say^ I shall see iny child perisl^ 
 
20 VALSINORE. 
 
 in a land of sf ran.^ers. Wo were lodji^ed in a .garret, 
 \vh!)sc smoke-staint'd walls were less (iis^'ustiiij^ than the 
 squalid looks ami coarse brutal manners of my landlatly 
 and lier other inmates. Often, win n no lon,i;;(r able to 
 employ my hands in industry, have 1 stolen forth with 
 you, dearest Herbert, haj)])) to escape; awhile from my 
 loathsome quarters, by goin.i^ to any cinnch or meeting 
 in the neiahborhood. How reluctantly did I quit those 
 sacred walls, where I was at least sheltered fr(un wan- 
 ton ii2si:lt i witii what bitter despondence did I turn from 
 those doors, wl^ere only admission was offered to the 
 wretched and the destitute ! 
 
 At length, after having pawned every ai-ticle of the 
 smallest value, I was enabled to resume my employment, 
 and had just pi'ocured a fresli s!i])ply of work, when my 
 landlady, to whom I had been for some weeks in ar- 
 rears, abruptly entering my wretched apartment, de- 
 manded immediate payment. Not having morjey enough 
 to discharge the debt, I besought her patience till the 
 morrow : she despised my entreaties, and after having 
 cast on me the most odious aspersions, insisted tluit I 
 should either pay, or turn out that very night. Terri- 
 fi(Ml by her abuse, I promised to depart 1 knew not 
 whither. 
 
 " Among other articles left in pawn, was an elegant 
 seal ring, whicli 1 had liitlierto jjrescrve^l for you, as 
 a last relic of your fatlier's memory, ami which I jtrized 
 far bi'vond its value, because it bore his name, and the 
 ci'est of his ancestors. In this extreme distress, 1 re- 
 solved to dispose even of tliis last record, of n»y happy 
 days. Tiie shop in which it was h'ft was at some dis- 
 tance ; but I determined to go thither. It was a chill 
 November evening, and much it grieved me to expose my 
 Herbert to the damp unwholesome air; but to trust him 
 from iny arms was imp )ssii)le. So, wrapping Viiy cloak 
 around lou, I salli<'d fortl), a sort of <le8p- rate hope 
 floating in my mind that we might perhaps die together. 
 
 «• Wg ha<l not pioceeded far, wlien there came on one 
 of those dense fogs which sometini* s cause real alarm. 
 It was a dark and fearful obscurity ; even tlie peoplcit 
 
w 
 
 VALSTNOTIE , rli 
 
 who jostled me. as tlicy passed, till we came in actual 
 colli act, I'emuined invisible. 1 know iiiil m what direc- 
 tion I was procecdiiij^ ; 1 knew as little wbv'tlicr to ad- 
 vajjce or retreat ; every inonieiit teriitird, abused or in- 
 sidted, I exclaimed, "'And is this F^n.a:lanJ. tiie r»f;ion 
 ol' eliarity :iul benevolence!" I ^\as at kiiiitli ])itsbed 
 <lo\vii. and must iiave been trampled undei' toot, but tor a 
 ja;euilenian. who, diseovviiiij^ our situiiliui, raised ns 
 both i!i bis arms, a?id findins^ me stunned by the fall, 
 C(mducted lis to a chemist's shop, wiiere be used proper 
 means fee tny recovery. When ( was r^stn e;t to con- 
 scioiisjii ss, my fidi heart irlievec'. itself in teais. *' Bo 
 «a!-n. be compose<l," wei-e tbefii-st woris that met mine 
 ear: an»i in a voice so deep, so clear, so harmonions; 
 tin' first impiessieu tliey J::;ave me, was. that frf bein.(5 
 translate<l to a baj)pier world. I 1 oked up, and beheld 
 a man, not a.a;ed, ijut vcnerai)le, vvh?'S< countenance bad 
 in it s unethiuj; beyond frail mort<dity ; so benis;n, so 
 saintly, yet so noWle, so majesiic. He,pe revived in my 
 soul ; and wir n. seoin.e; my tears, be said, * Take com- 
 fort,' I felt C'ins<ded already. He enq iired whither t 
 was J^oin.a^. I named the street, and lie pi oniised to be 
 our i^uard and {^iiide. When we readied the place, I 
 will own I felt ashamed of my sad errand ; but it was 
 not for me to be thus delicate ; so 1 asked for the riii.a:, 
 and bea^j^ed to receive its full value. The man declared 
 lie had al''eady advanced nn.i'e tlian it was worth. At 
 this news I staiCffered, and had almost fninted. * Ob, 
 God !' cried I, * and what will become of me r* [ had in- 
 voluntarily turned to our condiietor, and met those eyes 
 that Sv'emed to speak only of pity and benevcdence. 
 
 " Let me see therin.i^," cried he, »•[ will he the pur- 
 ebaser/' With these words beslipjied into my liand five 
 {guineas, and tlien. as if to divei-t my attintion. beu:an 
 to exaniiin' the imjn'ession on th" seal. On observing 
 tlie name (if Altamout. he changed countenance. "\>'hoso 
 crest is t.liis?" *• It was my husband's." *< Ar.d is this 
 your name?'* " Tliat name Sir, belon.2;s to nie and this 
 boy, who has now no other friend." '* And have you 
 then no connexions in this country ?" ** No Sir, I was 
 
,i, VALSINOUE. 
 
 born in Amprica ; mvli(isl)an(l brouglit me to En inland ; 
 he was then an oliicei*, but sold bis commission.*' A 
 commission! and was he not j^rcatly yom" chler?" 
 <* Only fifteen yt^avs." Heraise<! his eyes to heaven, 
 with a piteous expivssion : then he breathed ade('psii2:h, 
 as if hiss')id was de})artin,2; : but he shed no tear; and 
 I felt that it would have been a sort of sacrilege to see 
 him weep. 
 
 Turning at length to me, as if he liad been suddenly 
 roused fi'.an a di'eam, he exclaimed, <' And you are my 
 sister in affliction, bereaved and desolate ; let me guide 
 your steps." I ai^ain leaned on his arm ; but he no>y ' 
 shook so viidently that [ had to lend him s;ipp<»i"t. At' 
 length he said, <« I shall restore yo.ui* ring, and to-mor- 
 row you must give me your history." When we reach- 
 ed my sordid door, I was abashed that he should see me 
 enter s uch a place. Peih aps lie guessed my f :>el i n i\s, yet he 
 insisted on mounting to my garret ; he gazed all around 
 on the dreary walls, the almost fireh-ss chimney, tln^ bare 
 rug and uncurtained bed ; and, seating himself, exclaim- 
 ed, < I feel I am punished for obduracy ; what a lesson 
 for humanity ! Tell me by what strange fatality you are 
 thi'S cruelly reduced.' 
 
 Mv story was soon told, and when it was ended, I 
 offered to confirm it by doc-jments, stich as the certificate 
 of my mari'iage, and the iiistrimient by w hich yoiii* fa- 
 ther had snld his commission. He passed his hand over 
 his forehead. " No, no, I want no other evidence ; I 
 have that within." striking his bi'east, *' which voucIks 
 for you : too well have 1 presaged that you wercmv sis-^ 
 ter in affliction. And that poor boy, — I perceive the 
 resemblance ; he is like his family." " How !" cried I, 
 with involmtary transport, "did you kntnv my hus- 
 band ?" He cast down his eyes. " I iiave seen Ijim 
 once, and in a moment never to be forgotten." These 
 words \>'ere miirmured in a low, deep tone, with fear- 
 ful solenmity. A cloud passed over his countenance, and 
 another piercing sigh burst from his heart. At length 
 he arose abruptly. *< You shall not stay in this purga- 
 tory another hour : come, my inn will supply better uc- 
 
 i 
 
VAiSlNORE. 23 
 
 commorL'iHon for tlic night. To-morrow I leave this 
 great cit^, n'^vtrto retian, I am like \oii, avvaiulerer, 
 an iiiiive sal ar^^n," He then bade uic follow him ; and 
 there was sohk thing in liitj manner which eonipclleU obe- 
 dience. 
 
 I si'lf^red him to conduct us to an inn, where, at his 
 request, a c>mf<»rtable apartment \> as assigned for our 
 use, with suitable acconunoclation. 1 saw him no more 
 that tiight : the next morning the servant informed me, 
 th ' f >r' ign gentleman (for by that a])peHalitn only was 
 he .lisfinguish '«l) was g oie «»ut, bit had left word that 
 lies'ioul 1 e\p' el to und me there in tlje aftei-noon. I 
 waited witii a conxiciion that he would not be un]ninc- 
 tual ; n »r was i deceived in my expcctaticnis : Ir^ ciune 
 atthe hour appointed, and his aspi'et was cn'tw and se- 
 rene. He en'j;iii'ed where 1 had lived (»n in} first arri- 
 val in England, and earnestly reconnnfnded to me to 
 return to I3r.ic!;dale. He (.hen restored the ling, but 
 wiHr)ut any allusion to what ha<I passed the prece«ling 
 evrning. Lie sat about half an h -ir; tin n rising fi ni 
 his Stat, p vt lot 1 m.\ bands a p;)cket-bo<«k, exclainiifig, 
 in asohMUu voice, "Be tliis tlie meijoiial of our meet- 
 ing." He ih?n took you in ins ai'ins- aiid 1 p«TCi ivc d a 
 tear drop on your cheek ; but ho soon put you down, 
 without any earressos or any words of tender endear- 
 ment; and b^for^- I coiild ariieolatc a word, he said 
 <* Fai-ewell !*' and vanished. I started frf)m my s; at ; 
 I wo d 1 liave call* d him back, butan impression of awe 
 restrain -d my iiupati^^nce ; I returned to tlicroom. and 
 op'Miingthe pocket-book, found tlie foll-iwing letler : 
 
 •» In this pocket-book you will find a paper aiilhori- 
 zii'g you to clainj a c<"rtain sum vested in your and your 
 son's name, whidi will at least preserve you fi'oni penu- 
 ry. Cl»ei-is!i this ias sci^n of a nobl'" house, atid may 
 I h«^ prove a bl'ssing to bis mother, and an honor to his 
 co.mtry! 1 am heaving this country, in which ! find no 
 plaef. I am a poor ( a&t-away ; but wherever 1 may- 
 be drif'ttd b> destiny, be assured of niy fervent pie.^ers 
 for your peace and prosperity. It has pleased God to 
 
.J" 
 
 2* YALSINORE. 
 
 make me your comforter, and thus to administer to my 
 own consolation. 
 
 Valsinore/* 
 
 By these papers, I found myself entitled to claim three 
 thousand poun.ls in the 3 porcin's, to whicli, for our 
 imnif'diatc necessities, our hcnefactor had added a bill 
 for 80). so carelully had he consiflt r(Mi every circumstance 
 in my situation. It will be needlpss to say how much 
 I was o(»pressed by gratitu<ie. It was some relief to my 
 full heart to ad'>pt liis kind suggestion of returning to 
 JBeachdale ; stlli better would it liave satisfit'd me to 
 have iad some sjonger test of obedience. It remains 
 for you, my son, to discharge the debt I owe to this mys- 
 terinis being, who has been to me a messenger of hope 
 and mercy. May you but fulfil his wishes — and your 
 mother must be liappy." 
 
 Here a^iss Giadwiw paused, and Mrs. Bruce said, tak- 
 ing up the p.»ek'.;t-hook, *' I pres -rved for you this sacred 
 relic of Valsitiore." *' And the letter !" exclaimed Her- 
 bert. " It is here,'* she re[)lied : " [ give it into your 
 possession." Her son received it with reverence, and 
 eageily en(|ui!*cd if she had over since seen him. «' Nev- 
 er, Herbert, nor am I in the least degree able to divine 
 liis particular motives for showering on me such munifi- 
 cence." " He mentioned my father ?" *< Yes, but I 
 am wholly unacquainted with any circumstance in your 
 father's life which could have related \y) suci) a man ; yet 
 I cannot doubt tliat there was some secret cause ft)r his| 
 agitation on discovering the name of Altamont. And 
 now," continued she, ♦' I have only to add, that on my 
 mairiage with Mr. Bruce, he insisttid on securing Val- 
 sinore's bounty for your sole advantage. It is wliolly 
 yoijrs ; and I doubt not you will use it wisely." 
 « And," rrj^ined Celia, who had hitherto been silent, 
 « i trust ^o/^/i/«" She fixed her eyes on Herbert, who 
 was at tiiat !u >m'Mit s ) little disposed to bear the scroti- , 
 ny that he siidil uly <larted froin the room, and walked ^ 
 out, invoking the epii its of solitude and meditatiia to 
 ^m his perturbed iuiud. This romantic friend gazing 
 
 i 
 
VALSIKORE. 25 
 
 after liim, exclaimed, <♦ The spell works ; lie has re- 
 ceived (he inipressioii ; that K'tler shall be to him like 
 tlie inscription oil tl»c bust of Brutus, < Thou sleepest.' 
 Brutus awoke, and so sliall Altaniont ; he is nearly 
 ci.«;hteen, and oii,e;ht to put on the manly toga. Ah ! I 
 sec it in his eyes ; he will rcstoic the honors of his 
 house. Trust me, he is born to he a peer of the i*calm, 
 and to rival the noblest of his ancestors." 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 WHOEVER lias been suddenly presented with a 
 iivini^ example of virtue, loni^ since cherished in the 
 dreams of fancy, but never before attested on the re- 
 cords of experience, will easily conceive with wliat rap- 
 turous emotions Altamont contemplated the sublime clia- 
 raeter of Valsinore. Hitlicrto Ins sensibilities had been 
 restrained by a situation which .e;ave no scope for ener- 
 gy «)r entlnisiusm. In the respectable Mr. Bruee, he 
 had an object (»f esteem ; in his mother, of tenderness 
 .ind affection ; in Valhuicy he had a companion for his 
 gayer hours ; but no where did he find the bcin,^ who 
 answered to hiu»self, who could paitake his hi,t',hvr feel- 
 ings, and at once excite and satisfy liis noblest faculties. 
 
 The mystery of Valsinore had revealed to him his 
 o^\n lieart, and the ardent romantic spirit, so long 
 latent and repressed, burst forth ; his mental horizon 
 was suddenly expanded, a now glory seemed to eman- 
 ate on the eartii ; he felt ennobled by the thoughr that 
 he belonged to the same nattire with so exalted a i-.-ing, 
 ** And slialL I never sec him !" cried he ; '< tliis tuan 
 ©f sorrows, as he calls himself, bereaved and destitute, 
 yet lives to comfort the hilpless and afflicted. At this 
 notut'iit even gratitude was absovbed in a stronger sen- 
 tiiiicnt. He ivad and re-read the letter, and dwelt with 
 mingled diiUdencc and pride on the passage in which he 
 
 C 
 
26 VAISINOEE. • 
 
 was mentioneil as a future honor to his country. For 
 the first time lie remembered, with complacency, the 
 dignity of his family, and became ambitious, not only 
 of tlisdiiction, but of excellence. 
 
 Nothing could have been more flattering to Miss Glad- 
 win's prognostics than to have witnessed his perturba- 
 tion ; but when he returned to the domestic circle lie jiad 
 resumed his wonted self-command ; and as he had the 
 defect incident to all chai'acters of extreme susceptibili- 
 ty, that of being disposed to distrust tl»e sympathy of 
 others, he struggled to conceal tliose high impassioned 
 feelings for which he expected neither pai tici])ation nor 
 indulgence. In vain, therefore, did Lelia watcli iiis 
 countenance, in wliich the strong impressions he had 
 lately received were no longer legible. 
 
 In a few hours, Valiancy had also recovered his spi- 
 rits, and freely indulged his satiric vein against the in- 
 constancy of women. Tlie next <hiy he received a letter 
 from his grandfather, requesting liim to visit his mother, 
 for whose conduct he seemed di.si>osed to suggest excu- 
 ses ; for his lordship was the most candid of all human I 
 beings, whenever he had no interest to be otherwise. In 
 tlie present instance lie considered tlsat the evil WeiS with- 
 out a remefly : and since he was fully sensible of his own 
 serious obl'-gations to De Lille, he was, perhaps, in his 
 heart not very sorry, that his dauglitcr-in-la\v had sa- 
 ved :;im the trouble of repaying them ; finuUy he rciiect- 
 ed, that his grands') n's interests were not essentially in- 
 jured, si/,ce of her joititure he could not be deprived ; 
 an'.' of l.cr remain ing property, should s!ie survive her 
 pr s nt husband, slie might dispose in his favor. 
 
 Lac'n'iy f r lue success of his negociati(Ui. he conceal- 
 ed in his own b<is>jn» this consolat(>rv rei5ecti»»n, or it 
 would have }>rodMce{i an effect far diiferent from what 
 he wis'ied in tl«e higls spirited Valiancy ; wJio, after two 
 or Ihreff other ineftVclual attempts at reconciliation, at 
 length graciously consented to meet his mother in Lon- 
 don, on tiic e3{.press condition tl-at there should be no 
 witness of then* interview. He was induced to make 
 this restriction, by having discovered, in his corres- 
 
yAtSINORE. 37 
 
 pondence with Lord Marmiton, that liis mother had 
 triDisfoi red to hint licr interest with the yruiig ludy pre- 
 viously destinofl to liis hroth'-r : and that much of her 
 anxiety to ''ffect the r conciliation arose IV:ii\ her zeal 
 to seciiH' Adehi and her foiiune to Ijcr own fcuniiy. 
 Tliere was a natiiral pirverscness in Vaih\nc>'s tem- 
 per, which, though softened, was not subdued : to have 
 persisted in open hostility to his niotlier wojiUI have giv- 
 en hidi pain ; hnt in lirectly to thwart her views, and 
 mortify her expectations, atf'>r(h>d him extirme plea- 
 sure. — lie was hiij>py to have found out the means of 
 inflictina; punish aient at the very moment when he seem- 
 ed t(» have overlooked the delinquency ; and when he 
 met Mrs. De Lille, affected to have c<inceived an anti- 
 pathy to her niece in childhood ; ]m fitestinj? he won- 
 dered his brother could have been induced to think of 
 her. 
 
 He was infinitely amused by her solicitude to remove 
 
 this prejudice: he listened with malicious exultation to 
 
 I her assurances that Adela was so much impn)ved in 
 
 I person and manner that he could no longer know her ; 
 
 I and with contempt, to her repeated insinuations, that 
 
 j whenever he went abroad it would be incumbent on hini 
 
 I to visit his uncle Baron Rouvigny, mIio washy birth aii 
 
 I Irishman, but had entered the Austrian sei-vice, and 
 
 held a post of considerable eminence under the Emperor 
 
 Joseph. 
 
 Valiancy assented to all she said, secretly wishing 
 that this visit should be deferred till his cousin's return 
 to England ; for as great part of her fortune had been 
 bequeathed by her maternal grandfather, on condition 
 that she should marry an Englishman, the Baron had 
 consented that she should always make her residence i« 
 this country. 
 
 Flattered by her son's concessions, Mrs. De Lille 
 parted from him with strong professions of attachment, 
 and two days after, accompanied by her husband, her 
 niece, and Cordelia, embarked for Ostend, in her way 
 to Frankfort. The latter sent, ou this occasion, a 
 
 C2 
 
VAXSIKrORE. 
 
 farowell letter to Mrs. Bruce, cxpressiiij?, uitli mTidi 
 simple pathos, her grief and surprise at not having been 
 allowed to revisit Beachdale : she begged to be remem- 
 bered most gratef'illy to Herbert, but never alhided to 
 the manuscript left in her friend's custody. She seemed 
 already to have learnt reserve, and to have submitted to 
 i-estraint. 
 
 Altamont would have missed his little interesting pu- 
 pil, had he not been now completely absorbed by the idea 
 of Valsinore. Since Valiancy's dci)ai'tiire he had indul- 
 ged a tliousand romiaitic dreams in his solitary rambles, 
 and was happy to escape from any society which inter- 
 fered with these delightful speculations. ^Miss Gladwin 
 observed the change with delight, Mrs. Bruce with 
 alarm, her husband with regret. It was in vain to ui'ge 
 on him the necessity of clioosing a profession ; tlie young 
 man revolted at its limitation : he no longer desired to 
 go to college ; he rather wished to ex])lorc some other 
 country, with the vague hope of meeting with the myste- 
 rious stranger. At this time an incident occurred the 
 most favourable to his wishes. By tiie death of his ma- 
 ternal uncle, a small estate near Lausanne devolv«^d on 
 Mr. Bruce, who having always ho})od to spend his last* 
 days in Switzerland, joyfully resigned iiis cuiacy, and 
 dismissing h.is two p ipils wiiom he had received since 
 Vallfir.ey's establishment at college, ])i'epared to fix his 
 residence in Switzerland. ]Mrs. Bruce readily acquies- 
 ced in the c'liange. inured in youth to adversity, she 
 8u])mittcd gracefully to all the ligliter trials of domestic 
 life ? and though proud to consider her son as an 
 Englishman, she had no diflSculty in consenting to love 
 her husband's coimtry as her own. The only objection 
 she could have formed to the proposal was obviated by 
 the ardor vith which Altamont offered to accompany 
 them, and which rendered her satisfaction compleat.- 
 But it was otherwise with Miss Gladwin, who ceased 
 not to em]))oy all her emphatic arguments against a 
 waste of talenls so contrary, as she conceived, to the 
 wishes of Valsinoi'C. ^, 
 
 She had been one morning expatiating on this subject 
 
with even more thiin ». ri^y, wiien a letter arrived 
 
 addressed tor Altamu)'... . iic cluiiaetn; v>;i8 ur.kuown, 
 aiid lie tore open tlic seal with impatience i h'.n ij;rcal; 
 was his surprise wlicii a bill for i ;iOl. drojiped iVoiu tlio 
 envelope, which contained only t'l.so woril.s, »< Aerept 
 the enclosed to en:>l)le you to pursue yoi'i' Htudies at col- 
 lege, to b-'come an honor to your coiir.try, — troni yom* 
 father's friend." — " And does iic really exist?" cried 
 AUamont. « No dnubt he docs,'' echoed Miss Glad- 
 win, who had carefully watched the variation in his 
 connitetiance, ♦* and he comniar.ds you to t!;o t;) colles^e." 
 — '• Surely," c»'i''d Mrs. Erijce, " this cannot C(nno 
 from our benefaiior, the writing is so diiiereiit." — «* Hut 
 tl)ere is the initial of his n:une. nn ihe seal," .said Miss 
 Ghulwi)u — "ThatV." rejoined AUamont, " migiitsuit 
 "N'allancy, but then he is ignorant of tiic circumstance." 
 Here xsVms Cladwin-poi.ited out tiie jihrase ♦< an honor 
 to his country," so exactly corrospondijig with the sen- 
 tence employed by Valsinore. Tliis evidence a])peai"ed 
 almost conclusive even with the rational, judicious pas- 
 tor, when his wile sf;ggested tliat the enclosure might 
 liaps come from De Lille, in return for her attenti- 
 t ,,8 to his (laughter ; and site fancied she had once men- 
 t tioned the circumstance to Miss Gladwin in Cordelia's 
 presence, who might easily have furnished her father 
 with the necessary hints for as.-^uming the character of 
 Valsinore. The downrigiit Mr. Briifc could see no 
 cause for such subtle refinement, Besides, De Liile was 
 too vain to hide Ins bsoeficcnce ; Altamont recoiled from 
 the supposition ; 2vliss i^iladwin protested against it ; 
 and the subject was finally dismissed for another ecjually 
 interesting. It was decided that Altamont should lose 
 no time in going to Cambridge, and that his visit to 
 Switzerland should be deferred to a later period. His 
 mother endeavored to subdue her selfish regrets, and 
 " f. Bruce, happy to observe tliat tlic mind was roused 
 ii om its dream of romance, no lv)nger insisted on the 
 Subject of a profession, but trusted to chance and oppor- 
 tunity fur Altamont's making a final dccisiou* 
 
 C3 
 
TALSlNOIiE, 
 
 CHAPTER l\ 
 
 TiiK reunion of the two youns; friends was a soiiree- 
 of mutual pleasure: thoug!) essentially difForenl in char- 
 acter, tiicy were now associated in similar pursuits, and, 
 aspired without rivalry to the same object : but Valian- 
 cy, was still as little capable as ever of sympatliizing in 
 Altamoiit's ronuictic esitluisiasm ; and Altaniont, to es- 
 cape the raillery of Valiancy, was often at some ])ains 
 to cor.ceai his owr. feelings. Thus, tiiough he !>ad now 
 coiniiiunicated all he knew, he was far from contcssin]^ 
 all he expected, of his mysterious benefactor ; and Val- 
 larscy, tliough struck with the circumstance, could not 
 help hazardin;^ the facetious surmise, that the late dona- 
 tion had come from the presiding genius of love and mar- 
 riage, the fjiiry Amatonda, by which name he always- 
 designated Miss Gladwin, *' You forget," said Alta- 
 mont, " that the amount doubles her income.'* *» Re- 
 ally that is a very impertinent suggestion now," an- 
 swered Valiancy ; '< however, who knows but she may 
 be in possession of some wonderworking talisman?"' 
 '• W ho knows, indeed," said Altamont, ♦* but I have 
 been a changeling, and that I shall at some future period 
 become an emperor." 
 
 Witli all these points of disagreement, there subsisted 
 between the young men a sti'ong and sincere attachment. 
 There was no clasiiing of interest ; no contention for 
 pre-eminence. Valiancy was content with popularity ; 
 Altamont aspired to fanje. The former slighted the 
 muses for the graces, and was more lunbitious of pos- j 
 sessing wit than ehiquence ; he cultivated his taste for 
 satire, and was alvv ays throwing out epigrammatic cen- 
 sures ; not because he was ill-natured, but because hei 
 aimed at being piquant, Altamont on the contrary, em- 1 
 ployed no arts to extort applause; saw few by whose 
 * ^4 notice he could be flattered, and none with whose praise 
 ^e should be satisfied. In one word as Cclia once oh- 
 
VALSl]SrOR£. 31 
 
 served, with her usual aptness at classical allusion, Al- 
 taiuoiit would iiave accepted only of the triuinph, whilst 
 ^'a]lancy would have canvassed I'oe the oration. 
 
 I'be two fi'i( lids spent the lotii^ autumnal vacation at 
 Loi'd Mainuton's seat, which was distant about twenty- 
 five miles li'om Beaclidalo. Aiuoni; the otlit r visitors 
 collected by his htvsijitality, was a young man, sonic 
 yeais older than Allamonr, who had been lately recom- 
 mended to his Lordship's patronaj^e. Llis name was 
 "^Voodville ; born in tiie condition of a s;cntleman, and 
 accustomed rather to confer favors than to solicit them, 
 he was alto!i|;other new to the state «»f dejiendencc. He 
 had lost llis father in inraney ; his education was domes- 
 tie ; and the sensibilities of his soel had been fostered by 
 inatenral tenderness. Endued with exquisite sympa- 
 thies, and a delicacy which sliouldsccm to belone: exclu- 
 sively to the female chaiacter, he wanted but the boons 
 of fortune to have been the ti lend and benefactor of man- 
 kin«l ; but his mother, v ho had been left oicumbercd 
 with a law-suit, after a loii;^ interval of suspence, was 
 sudtieiily by its unfavorable termination reduced to a 
 small stipend, whieli beinsj only for ler life, secured no 
 provisi'm to her hi loved Jl'ustaee. lieinj^like tlie rest 
 of llis family, a Catholic, he was excluded by his reli- 
 gion fn.m most of the professi<ins : and by his habits of 
 eleejanceand retinenient, unfitted for ordinary pursuits 
 and vulirarocci.palioriS. They had hitherto residejl in 
 abeautiful rctisement. in thetvorHi of England ; but it 
 was too painful to remain in tiie same nei,ii,!i!)erl:ood,ex- 
 citini^ ])ity, where they isad f-jnuerly dispens-d ehaiity. 
 They therefore removed to avillas;e near London, where 
 the aft'ctionat'- mother tiattered liersejf it was iirp ssi- 
 ble, but with all their run < rous and respeetahlof! ieids, 
 they sho'ild m^^et \Mths'>nu who were '»)ih Milling'; aud 
 able to nrakc ex< rtions i f intenst in favoi'of her son. 
 
 Of all men, ])erhaps Woudville was tlie m; S( ii reslsU- 
 l)ly eiie;a.e;ina;; but the least likely to forc^^ Itis way to 
 pi'cfevment : not «inly his (h^lieaey rev.»ltetl from the 
 Bieannrss of solieilali'n ; bui his hc.-ntM, l.is iute.2:i'ity5 
 aud cveuliis bcnovolciice. He was always piucin^- Uiiu- 
 
VAXSlWORr,. 
 
 ^solf in the situjition of those from wlmm he expected as- 
 sistance : his caivlid mind suggested the various calls on 
 their duty? the 11 iunerous claimants for their influence j 
 ho was grieved to occupy their precious moments ; griev- 
 ed to he the occasion of intercepting one of their social 
 pleasures. But if his/rie;i(/ liad to ask another/rie?iff, 
 tbi' his sake to be exp;)sed to i-udeness and repulse, he 
 \vas oppressed by gratitude; he was overwlielmed with 
 thankfulness; whatever success resulted from the mag- 
 nanimous effort, liis genei'ous, suscr,])tihle soul could set 
 no limits to the kindness and the obligation. 
 
 >Yith such feminine diffidence, and susceptibility, 
 Woodville was ccitain to bo neglected and forgotten. In 
 the coarse of a few months, he learnt from experience, 
 not indeed to suspect a promise, (for of thai his honora- 
 ble nature was not capuble.) but to distrust its pei'form- 
 ance. Still his heart resisted chagrin, in suhnntting to 
 disappointment ; he was so suscejJtiblc of enthusiasm, so 
 tremblingly alive to the interests, the pm'suits, the pleas- 
 ures of others, he was so mne!i gratified by participa- 
 tion, so accessible t^^ all amiable and happy inllucnces, 
 that he secmeu to share the felicity he w itnessed ; and 
 w hen he was admitted to some cheerful domestic circle, 
 forgot his own mortifications, and felt that he was satisft- 
 c(L Hitherto, howevei', he was but little acrjuainted 
 w it!i real adversity. His mother's stipend, small as it 
 was, secured them from penury ; honor, delicacy, in 
 some degree supplied to both the place of discretion. 
 They contracted no debts, and cheerfully submitted to 
 privations to preserve tranquillity. Woodville had still 
 access to elegant socieiy ; and his mother, though she 
 renounced the world for herself, yet for his sake, was 
 anxious to preserve their common connexions ; and when 
 she saw his preparations to visit those she had once hos- 
 pitably entertained at her own table, was flattered by a 
 secret presage of his approaching fortune. Among his 
 various well-wishers, he at length obtained an introduc- 
 tion to Lord Marmiton, who was well pleased to add to 
 liis list of dependents, a gentleman of Woodville's ap- 
 pearance, aiiU cordially invited him for the shooting sea- 
 
VAXSIJrORE. 33 
 
 soil, to his splendid niaiision. Woodvillo was so toucl'cd 
 by (he iinoKju'ettMl kiiK'ni'ss. tliat without shariiic; in liis 
 niotli'^r's sanpi'dine aiiticiiiations, he was fullof e;iatitudc 
 and delii^^ht ; for when he ri .H'ivcd hom another that 
 dclicatc! attrntion which his own heart wouhl liavc dic- 
 tated, he rejoiced not merely for his own sake, hut for 
 the credit of human nature ; and said to himself, ♦« I am 
 salisfird." UiuUr such ideasina; aT;s;)iccs was Alta- 
 mont's acquaintance formed \\ ithNVoodville. w ho wasevcr 
 afterwards accustomed to onsider tliis ciictimstance as 
 one of the few bris:ht specks in liis exist«'nce. liis soci- 
 ety was an incaleidahle improvement to his youn.a; friend ; 
 since Mdodville liad wisiiom for every h(;dy but himself, 
 and condemned, by his prec'cpls, even the romance iio 
 sanctioned \\ith Ids example. In ins private conversa- 
 tions with Aliasnont, he strenuously recommended him to 
 pursue the bar. for which he possessed tal^its. ♦' No 
 man,'* added he, breathina; a conscious sij^h, *' can so 
 truly a]>preciate tlie advantage of a pro^^ssion, as the 
 man who is without one." lie encouraged not the vis- 
 ionary hope of meeting Valsinore. ♦» Make lionor," 
 said he <• your first object, and leave to chance the 
 rest." 
 
 W ith all his ration alit}\ however, there were some 
 Sul)ject.son which Woodvillc vied witli Altiimont in en- 
 thusiastic sentiment : lie had an ardent belief in human 
 excellence, and for human errors uiibounded charity : 
 never was there a more liherjil or Irenevolent faith. 
 
 In tliis delightful intercourse nothing was w:(?itingbut 
 mutual ennfidonc ; but the lUdicacy of Woodvi'.k's mind 
 
 (dted fi'om a full disclosure of his situation. Why 
 
 . mhl he sadden his friend with the representation of 
 
 e\ i!s he could not redress ? ^^'Ily abridge the few brief 
 
 . imenls of happiness, by anti(i|)ations of future care 
 
 i| embarrassment ? This fatal jieriod a])proache(l 
 
 >ner than he expected. liis mother was suddenly at- 
 I ked by alarming symptoms, and he hastened back to 
 her humble home, cmly to watch one night by h >r pillow, 
 and S! c her die. On the first news of her illness, he 
 had flit too much for her to feel for himself j grief exelu- 
 
34 VALSINORB. 
 
 dcd all sordid participation Nvitli care ; povci-ty was for- 
 gottm, and every want, or privation, of which tlic heart 
 was not sensible,. 
 
 Onqiiittiiii^-Lord Marmiton's splendid mansion, he 
 had made no provision for this event ; and His Lordship, 
 who had ncvrv iiitenchid t<i offer any thing better than 
 polite attentions, sisnTercd him to depart with abundant 
 pr<>fossions of concern, and no allusion to his former 
 promises, which Woodville nevtr ar.^ant to recall to his 
 memory. It v»'as enougli for hiiiK that he had recived 
 kindness : he had not only too nnich df^licriey to be im- 
 portunate ; he was too grat'ful to be iiiti sisive. 
 
 Altamont heard with deep concern of Ids fri' nd's do- 
 mestic loss, and believed he fuilv sympathized in his 
 feelinsis. Little did lie think for what woisc cares, what 
 revolting puisuits, his pensive friend was compelled to 
 forsake his cherislicd parent's lonely grave. Little did 
 he ijnagine in what difficulties he was involved, or what 
 bitter caiiso there was to inoiirn the loss of freedom and 
 indtpendencc. Tlie spirit of Woodville could not easily 
 adapt itself to his fortunes. He still felt as a gentleman, 
 even when forced to descend to revolting occupations for. 
 immediate subsistence. He still loved mankind when 
 he was pining in neglect ; and even cherished dreams 
 of benevolence, when lie was himself the victim of self- 
 ishness and apathy. It is true he now siiunned his for- 
 mei- friends and associates, but it was to sj)are them tha 
 pain of witnessing his struggles with misery. 
 
 AVith Altamont, however, he continued to corres- 
 pond, though always with the same reservatiniKon his 
 own affairs. But however he miglit suppress such facts, 
 he was sometimes unable to disguise his feelings : and 
 he occasionally wrote from the impression of the mo- 
 ment, but M ilhont any reference to his own destiny. ** It 
 is a great evil," said he, in one of his letters, " to have 
 been born a gentleman. It is without wealth an attaiii" 
 der of all our useHd and happy faculties." " It is dan- 
 gerous," said he in another, '• to cliei'ish the dreams of 
 fancy, for they make the heart sensible at every poi-e." 
 In another letter, he said, « An unfortunate man bears 
 
^ALSINORE, S£» 
 
 flie curse of Cain : every one fears as an enemy, the 
 wretcli wlifj is known to want a /r?>f!</.'* 
 
 In gvneral liis IcUcrs were of a more chrci*ful turn : 
 he continued to f^ivv Altaniont liic best advict, |)la\ftilly 
 observing, *< that since prudence would not stay in liia 
 ark, he hoped she wotdu take up lier abode in the ujive 
 bower of Ills ntiiiii'itic fiiend/' It at length happcMud, 
 however, that .Utaiuont was accidentally infornied t'lat 
 AVo'Klvillc was in in<iigent obscurity. He haU just re- 
 ceived a sjcond reniittanco fr.nn bis unknown pation, 
 and inniiediatoly disjjatebed two thirds of it to his dis- 
 tressed friend, tl:(»u.q;b by this frank lib* iiility, be ren- 
 dered biniself unable to accompany Valiancy on his tour 
 through Italy : and higidy was t!.at gay c()mj)ah:<.n of- 
 fcnded Avhen hep jsistid in not leaving Enghmtl till an- 
 other year. Lut tb<^ ^i-;insi<Mit ps'tulance was soon sub- 
 dued, and they p;iit''(i with unaft'icted cordiality, ncm'ly 
 at thv same tiiin- tliat the Ue Lilies, accompanied by 
 Miss Rouvigny and her father, returned t(t England, 
 and took up t!^<nr residt-nce in Beachdale. Allauu-rt, 
 who was no 1 ^iger noticed by Lord ^larmiton, spji»t bis 
 vaeatit >ns in Lon<l< n, wiicrc be had hoped once more to 
 enjoy tbc sceii-ty of Vi oodviile. 
 
 In this expectation be was disappointed ; as never 
 once, sincr ! is li!)tM\tl remitt;tnee, bad he receive*', from 
 him any e;)isttdary corniu'.inieation. He could not doubt 
 but tbat M otflville su'-miscd fivun what quarter tbe br)un- 
 ty came, and was resr.lved, by th^s seemingly ungrate- 
 ful si!- nee, to restrain his future liberality. To cons;)le 
 him for this chagrin, he !iad the satisfaction to receive a 
 third ann'ial reiniltancc, with an intimati(»n that this 
 was tiie last ti.nc he woiild be addressed in England, 
 since his friend wished him to spc nd two years on the 
 Coi!tin« nt. He was then enjoined to return to his native 
 country, where, if he was not Avanting to himself, ho 
 migbt one day possess botb fame and fortune. 
 
 There was snw thing in the style of the last epistle 
 which irresistibly bro:igbt Mi^s Gladwin before bis eyts j 
 but, reeol!. eting her narenv ciieun.sranccs, Ise instant- 
 ly condemned the suggestion, and was happy to dismiss 
 
36 VALSINORE. 
 
 i 
 
 Jin i(]pa so little connjoiiial to his romantic foelinji^. The 
 hill 11 p.vt'iici; s:(J Was till' 300). by whlcii it appCiU'ed that 
 the donor iiad nicoly ctilfiilatt'd the p riod of iiis al;sencc. 
 He prei)ai'ed thei\ tbre lor his joiirjiey witli joyful ala- 
 crity. 
 
 Indepcnd nt of his ardent longings to see so cli.ssieal J 
 a counti'y as K;dy, he imd tlie delightiul aiiticiputi.ms 
 of visiting Mr. ami Mrs. Bruce, in tiieir ronjantic re- 
 treat, and of being re-united to Ins fi-iend Valhtncy. 
 Amidst tliese a.ur 'eable oxpectatitnss. how was his^joy 
 enhanced, by Iji'dvI'v^, just as he was on the eve of em- 
 barkation, thai !;:3 uiend U oodviile, who had been for 
 soniC moiiihs en'i,aged as dosnestic tutor in a family in 
 Ireland, was niuried to a young lady who had been 
 one of its innuues, and who possessed a handsome 
 forj-Uiie. 
 
 Of tlils report, as usual, half was truth, and the other 
 fal;eiiood. It was no nkistake that Wot)dville had held 
 tFh' sitiiation of tutor; it was equally correct thathehad„ 
 married ; but the lady so ch'jsea was merely a poor de-^ 
 pendant, who. 'y partaking his chagrins, had insensi- 
 bly stoleti his affections. 
 
 Too generous to involve another being in his adversi- 
 ty, Woodviile would have struggled with his own pas- 
 sion, had not the too siisec ptible girl so weakly betrayed 
 her feelings lo ohss-rvation, as to incir for ins sake the 
 contoiiipt and censure of her ungentle patroness. Not 
 only love, but hn\ior, now ini polled hijn to rescue ids 
 auiable vietini fiom unkindness and reproach ; butj 
 wlipn he frankly offered his hand, he conc:'ak'd not how 
 sniall ihe sum of worldly goods !ie had to best >w ; but 
 poor as h? was. he j >yf il!v pledged himself to her pro- 
 tection : and ;;nfortunate as he was, she rejoiced to be- 
 come tl>€ partner of liis pov. rty. 
 
 Iinraed'.atcl} after this in uispicious union, he returned 
 with Iiis brule to Lon!l>«, intending, for her sake, to 
 ov rco.ne his repjgHancc to stdi; it favors, and biddly to \ 
 ci 1 ige assistane.f from his former ci nn^xi )ns. Hadji 
 h . .ppi nc^ ' to »i>oet witii Altamont, he W'»Mld prohabl* 
 have renewed his application to Lord Marmiton, bi»| 
 
V.4XSIN0RE. 45 
 
 ly to De Lillo, she bc.j^ffcd to have a few moments coti- 
 vci'salioii with him ; he readily assented to hei- ivqiust, 
 too happy to escape feom the lynx-eyed suspicion that 
 had thrown him into such confusion. 
 
 Mrs. D<' Lilh^ could nuw think and talk only of Val- 
 iancy, and she w as ever fiuent in Ids piaise. Sir I' red- 
 eric assented, but Cordelia was sih nt, lor she was mn- 
 sinij; on her former preceptor. In about half an hour 
 Mrs. Gladwin returned, with a face full of myste- 
 rious interest. Mi's. I)e Lille ikjw very naturally turn- 
 ed tlie convetsatiun on AcU^Ja Rouvie:;ny, ohservinsj; that, 
 *♦ though they had never met since they were cliildren, 
 there was in every point a remarkable coincidence be- 
 tween them ; they weie both lively and si)ortive ; they 
 had the same style in their conversation and letters ; an«l,'* 
 cried she, ♦< it is really curious, they even write so much 
 alike tliat 1 have some difticulty in distinguishing one 
 
 , hand from the other." 
 
 Miss (Jladwin listened with profound attention, then, 
 suddenly raising her voice, exclaiuifd, '• D«p( nd • n it 
 they are too similar to sympathize ; covir(u,i is the soul 
 
 I of harmonij ; take my wcrd for it he will fall in love with 
 Mome pensive maid, devout and pure, sonn^ damsel that 
 looks like a nun." Iler^ her e^is ghineed on Cordelia, 
 who. rccollectiug hei* father's conversation, colored deep- 
 ly, ami unfortunately met Mis. I)e Lille's scrutijn'zin.^ 
 eyes ri\eted on her countenance ; whilst Ceiia. wholly 
 regardless of the sensation she Iiad excited, with a sud- 
 den elastic Jiik. bade them good morning, and hurried 
 aM ay to assist her ohi ■proie;^ce in dispensing ahns to some 
 poor ])ensioner; for at the call of distress she always 
 desconded from her inia/'inai-y 01;. mpus, and instead of 
 being the fo.d of fancy, beeuiue tlie agent of charity. 
 That task ]tci lornied. slie resumed her (►riginal pi'.' l)en- 
 
 (tsity to dreaming, and. in In r n\\n mind, created for 
 those she had relicA'ed a» state of h licity to comiiensate 
 for all their f.iruier suiTeiings and piivations: never 
 Were t\V(^ beijigs n:()i<e different ihiin Celja in these two 
 capacities; Ik r transformation v, as sirdden. as that of 
 the silk-worm spinning his web, to the giddy moth byz/ 
 
46 VAISINOHE. 
 
 zinj;; in the siin-heams, and sipping nectar, from all the 
 flowers ofparrdise. 
 
 Little did this bcnevolont being imagine that ahe had 
 lodgt'd a pnison«-(l arrow in Mrs. De Lille's bosom. 
 Jealosjs ot hir- hiisband's ^icwsffij' Cordelia, slie instant- 
 ly C('n<eived that there was some collusion between him 
 and Celia. to the exclusion of Adela -Rouvigny. Cor-^ 
 dflia hc'.silf was involved in her suspicions, and sopoFg- 
 lumt was her disph^'suro, that, f.)rgetting her usnal<lis- 
 cn'tion, slie i'X<-,Jaiin« d, ♦• What jjakry artifice ! as if 
 any body co;ih? siipp'^se contrast produced syni'/athy. 
 Pray, Miss Dc l.illc, is it with such dis'i'.iisitions she 
 entertains vouin these longcoufidtntial interviews?'* 
 
 « Dcprj)!! on it," said Sir Frederic, anxious to avert 
 her indignatltn fr.mi Cordelia, there is no treason plot- 
 ting betnt en Ibfui." 
 
 <' Biit you l\>rgct she was talkipg of my son Valian- 
 cy." 
 
 '** And of Herbert Altamont," added Cordolja, now 
 anxious to reiuove t!ie iinpression. which she ^ercfcived 
 to have sunli into Mrs. De i.illc's niind. 
 
 " Oh, lu; was } our tuhu* I think." 
 
 *< Yes my iirst pcecpptor, and to him I owe the little 
 Icnowledge I possess, of that language my father has 
 interdicted." 
 
 " And was this 1 nsg ago ?" asked Sir Frederic. 
 
 •• Oil, sevoral years, but I have not quite forgotten Ms 
 instriicti(ms." . 
 
 *• Yom- first j)ivcf"ptor has been most fortunate, in 
 nsaking his w irds indelible." 
 
 ** Y» as my son also your tutor 2" 
 
 " Oh, never." 
 
 <* He set you no task, troubled you with no correc- 
 tions?" 
 
 *♦ He n^ver troubled himself abont me ; and to con- 
 fess the trnth, I "nvii.i him a little, beca ise," added 
 s\h\ coloring as she spake, " he was alwavs with Her- 
 be.-t." . ^ ' 
 
 Mrs De Lille was chained with this H»geniousness> 
 li|l suspicion whispered that this might all be artifice. 
 
VAIS7V0RE. 39 
 
 was solaced with the fiicndship of Adda Rouvi.cny, who 
 ii'ivv lavished on her confulr'nce and aRcciinn. Tiiis cor- 
 dii'l iMjion was ' fiUJilly (iisjiloasing to tiiC specious Uc 
 Liile and his n:iyi'>M'\:rini|; parUici.. Thr latter liad that 
 piissivo st'Wisl)Tjfes whic!:.trtkrs slscllcr in ohliquity, with- 
 onl vont u'in^^on any positive violation of rectitude ; she 
 would havps!i.i(! !v ( rjury, yet scinj-Kd not to 
 
 e!nph)y du])l!ci(> a ii<n: she woithl not have in- 
 
 vented a culiMtMiY. but was id way 8 ready to pn!]nic:ate. 
 scandal ; ;'s mIii< was sireniu/Qs in piirsidngher ovn real 
 or iin;;.e;iiii . she was apt to attgh^te iho 
 
 same sinisu r*i ■« .1 II oih-i-s, and cor.sequently passed 
 her liicin C^^raplt'ss and ofi.v;n causeles,-* pei'^urhation and 
 anxiety. In inarryinti; De Lillet she !iad oftcrcd violence 
 to l»er own character, whic'i wasincap:d)Ic t^ delicacy 
 or {^i'tiei'osity*; nor \n as* hei* passion suflicirnfly ardent to 
 blind lie!' to the di^fi^dte of him for \vh:)in she had made 
 the sacrifice ; she was too quick stv,htrd not to discover 
 ihat her ht'shand was anximis to captivate all wo-.ian- 
 kiiid , the tvirch of h vc soon grew' dim, obscured by the 
 sullen elonm of jenlousy. ,i^ ^». > 
 
 De liil'-, in wbain vanity wasibe . passion, was 
 
 at once-ieazod and flattered by her sdicitud^', lie ])iqued 
 Idms'If. wirh ■ )me reason, on his pawns qi' fuscinRtioii 
 with the fetnale sex ; and so l^^aldy did he prize Tfiis 
 supp')sed supremacy, that* he even lavislied eoinpliments 
 on Coi'1 lia and Adela, with the hope of enchanting 
 them by his -gallantry. 1^ please his wife, lie would 
 oftiMi extol the beauty of her niece.; and whenever he 
 had ap')int to carry, he aflfected to ti^eat his daughter 
 wi'Jj coldness and neglect, in spite of finesse and arti- 
 iicp, Mrs. De Lillcj with her usual aptitude in iina.fi^ining 
 "'J, imputed to him the design, of urHting" Cordelia to 
 Valiancy, to the exclusion of her darl'--^ scheme of Adela 
 Rouvigny. W henever this suspicion ^,. assessed her niind^ 
 she was gloomy and ihtractahle, and Cordelia was the 
 first to feel that she had offended, witliout, divining the 
 nature of her transgression. 
 
 It is doubtful whether thentatHmonial scheme «o rnuch 
 depreciated by Ids wife, woiild have entered into De 
 
 D 2 
 
'^I 
 
 40 VALSINORE. 
 
 Lille's calculations, had it not been so often mentioned 
 in their altercations, that he began to consider whetlicr 
 it was not feasible, and was actually excited by her ac- 
 cusations to make the very effort slie so much wished to 
 prevent. Happily for his hojjcs, the Bavon Roiivigny, 
 after re!nai)iingsouje months in England was obliged to 
 retnrn to the continent, and his daughter was so much 
 alarmed by his declining liealth, that she insisted on be- 
 ing his companion. 
 
 ^Irs. Dc Lille was inexpressibly grieved by her depart- 
 ure ; but consoled herself with the reflection, that per- 
 haps her son might meet with her on his travels ; or at 
 all events, if she married a foreigner, the estate, which 
 formed hei- greatest attraction, would revert to hrr own 
 family. Fi'om this jXM-iod, however, she grew more and 
 more dissatisfied with her husband and herself. Val- 
 iancy became the object of her mostbigottcd attachment. 
 She talked of him continually, and her eulogies were al- 
 ways accompanied by a disdainful glance at the innocent 
 Cordelia. 
 
 A few day's after Adela's departure, Cordelia was 
 cheered by the sight of Miss Gladwin, wlio, though no 
 longer admitted to the vicarage, continued her annual 
 visit to Beachdale, where siie had f )und an asylum of 
 peace and content for an old lady she was accustomed 
 to call lier protegee^ and was through her means, ad- 
 mitted as a boarder to tlie family of a wealthy farmer, 
 residing iu the village. Miss Gladwi)i was cordially in- 
 vited to Valiancy house, where she at first amused Mrs. 
 I)e Lille with her eccentiicilies, as much as by lier spon- 
 taneous admiration she flattered her husband ,• Mltilst 
 Cordelia was moie happy than she could express, Ho 
 converse with one who corresponded with Mrs. Braces 
 and sometimes received a few lines from Altamont. 
 
 The genial influence of joy called up to her counte- 
 nance so many nameless cliarms of animation, that De 
 Lille, meeting her just after she had parted from Celia 
 in the park, could not help exclaiming, 
 
 " Cordelia, how astor.ishingly you are improved 
 since your return to Knglauil ! You are now ten times 
 more beautiful than your mother ever was." 
 
VALSINfORE. 41 
 
 Cordelia felt her heart beat at tliis unexpected com- 
 plinient, foi' she tliought how nuich she shoiild like to be 
 HOW seen by Herbert. 
 
 Her i'iither, ta])jjins!^ her cheek, said, " Play your 
 cards well, and you sliall be a viscountess," 
 
 <• A viscountess, Sir ?" 
 
 " It w ill be strange, iiidecd, if yon are not preferred 
 to Adela." 
 
 Coi'drlia now coniprehendinii; his meav.inj^, said very 
 seriously, " Heaven forbid I should ever interfere with 
 the happiness of one I love." 
 
 " Tooh, d(n»t you know she is rich, ami may have 
 the peeraj^e at her feet; but yon. Cordelia, have no 
 fortune, and mine dejjends on contingency." 
 
 At this s|>cech she cast down her eyes, abashed and 
 aileirt. 
 
 *' Ifcw now, gill, %i'e you angry with your father, 
 for wishing to see yon a peeress ?" 
 
 " Ah^ bir, angry is not the word I can ever use with 
 yon." 
 
 '* But yon are displeased, Cordelia." 
 
 " 1 was grieved, Sii-," she hcyitated for a moment ; 
 t!ien raising her eyes, added with gentle firmness, »* I 
 would no<? for the world be accessary to the disappoint- 
 ment of one who loves you." 
 * <• Why, sjjc li)ves not you, Cordelia." 
 
 " liCt lae at least be grateful to her for yonr sake." 
 
 " Well, well, do not be so pathetic, 1 only meant a 
 little pleasantry." 
 • " No," cried she eagerly, <' I a*n sure yon did not." 
 
 •• But supposing I had been serious, what then, Cor- 
 delia ?" 
 
 Too sincere to dissemble, she returned no answer^ 
 De Lille, flinging from her contemptuoesly, ad«led with 
 a sarcastic smile, " J suppose you meant to renounce 
 your father. I'hanks to Mr. Bruce and his pious \> ife, 
 for having filled your head with such puritanical vaga- 
 ries. Pity but ycyi were a catholic, to be canonized." 
 
 Here, to the i lAnife relief of Cord-lia.. tfie coiiversa- 
 tion was interrupted by the appearance of Sir Frederic 
 DS 
 
-is VALSINOKE. 
 
 Mowbray, who was one of the few visitors always wel- 
 comed to Vailiiiicy house. This gentleman, who was 
 now Utile more tiian tliirty, had married in early life a 
 woman of fashion, from whom lie was soon oblia;rd to 
 separate. Respect for her connexions, or rr^ard for 
 his own interests, prevented liis seeking a div<;rcc. To 
 divert !iis chagrin, ho had phiiigcd into jmlitieal intrigues, 
 and for same time acquitted himself with respectability 
 in a post of some eminence. 1 
 
 By a change of administratis, he was obliged to re- 
 treat from public life ; and in this interval of leisure re- 
 turned to St. Quintin's abbey, which was in tlie neig}»- 
 borhood of Beaclulale. It was here he renewed his ac- 
 quaintance with Baron Rouvigny, to \\hom he was le- 
 lated ; and who, anticipating his own dissolution, in-VT, 
 dueed her daughter to name fiim as her gi^-dian. >Sir 
 Frederic acc( pted tlic trust, ,^anA was iii consmYfence 
 almost considered as g? part of tljje family. AViil^t. be- 
 ing brilliant, he had much of the spirit of so^id^', and 
 was universally acceptable to his ac([uaintanceV He had • ,* 
 the happy art of putting people in good humor with them- 
 selves. He was every where dismissed with praise, and 
 by cveiy one greeted with complacency. Since he h^cl "^ 
 been elected the guardian of Miss Rouvigny, yehfuf af- 
 fected to consider her as his pupil. Every nforning he • , 
 had some book to read, some drawings to ci-itjciae, iftjf^ ". 
 some music to correct ; and Cordelia shared in his in-'' 
 structions, and at least divided, if she did not engross 
 his attentions. ■/ 
 
 The sight of Sir Frederic Mowbray was at atiy timo^ 
 suflTicient to restore De Lille to good humor ; h^ there- 
 fore instantly resumed his smih's, whilst Cordelia, iinX- 
 willing to b< tray her agitation, hastily withdrew to h^B^^ 
 cliamber to meditate and weep. She was convinced tliat 
 her father really meant what he had saitj of Valiancy ; " 
 she f?lt ashamed and afflicted foi^is g^ke ; she strug- 
 gled in vain to think him worthy 6f esteem and- confi- 
 dence. A secret terror oppressed her innocent heart ; 
 she trembled, lest she shocdd have admitted some im- 
 proper suspicion^ or baibored sonde uuiiliai sentiment. 
 
i. 
 VALSINOBiE. 43 
 
 Sl>c (lofcrmiiied to cnnipensixto, as far a<! possible, by 
 *Siil)inif<si 111, for the involnntai'y failure of aflectioii ; ami 
 she loiigt (l to shew attention wiiero she couKl not compel 
 revernice. 
 
 For sonic flavs, tlie;*( fore, after this interview she 
 e:i;^ei|y \vaii» <! for her fatlKi's con niands. an'! antieipa- 
 ted hi8 wishes ; she ])reseiite(l his favoi-ite flowers, and 
 ■. piayed wliatever air or lissnii she ha»l heard him ap- 
 prove ; but De Lillc was too much otftnded to aft'ord 
 her the satisfaction she, coveted ; his vanity was wojuid- 
 ^od; she had iniliot"d apani?«»n his e.s;otisn> by miinif^st- 
 ^h)'S hei* r< ;?;;ird lor Mr. and Mis. Bruce, to whom he 
 'Tjp'iidged even that esteem he thoeii^ht not wortli tlie trou- 
 ..Hble to piirchasc. Scornf.dly, therefore, did lie rej» ct all 
 /jiersih'nt pleadini^s, hei' amiable advances to rec;>nc;lia- 
 Jn m ; wlien she piactiscd his favoiite lt\ssons, he turned 
 Stf*ay in uni!;rac:ons silence, or addressed Iicr with a 
 siafcastic loolc as Saivt Cordelia. Mrs. De l.iMe per- 
 ceTving his sullen estrangement, witho'it gn* s.siup; the 
 cause, became, she knew not why* disposed to treat hor 
 wilh more kindni'ss and complacency. 
 
 Sir I'rederic, entering one day and perceiving her 
 unusual d jsction, took occasion to urge her to devote 
 more time to music. 
 
 . " Sir,'' said l)e Lille, " she scorns the gamut ; no- 
 
 ;■- thing s;itisfi( s her but daetylcs and spo.idees. MOuld 
 
 y(Jj hi lieve it ? sh»e seeks siditvide, not to impi-ove in any 
 
 cl'gant accomplishment, but to pore over a dead lan- 
 
 & •'^'^■ • 
 
 *' Indeed, Sir," replied Cordelia, afTocting to smile, 
 1^*' I cL) not think you can prove that allegati-.n." 
 
 *♦ Qid I not detect you yesterday in explaining a nuis- 
 ty epitaph ?" 
 
 Here he looked at his wife, from whom he expected 
 jf>the m' st cordial su])po't, well Knowing with what an- 
 tipathy she alwa\s spoke of al-'arned lady. To hissiir- 
 pris<' she was sihnt, and Sir Fredciie s; i;! h>^ sho;.ld bo 
 pt- >iid if be mi^lit there also be permitted to assist her 
 studic!:;. 
 
ii tAlSINORE. 
 
 « Why surely you would not recommend her to waste 
 her bloosn in siicli iin|)i'(>rital)K' purs i its !" 
 
 *« Considi-r, my d.^iir Di' Lilh', you h;ive so mucli of 
 her countenance, that she may be pardoned for stealing 
 some of your mind." 
 
 De Lille was so w^U pleased with this compliment 
 that he remitted his displeasure, and said lie should he 
 satisfied whenever she w;.s with Sir Frederic Mowbray. 
 
 Scarcely was this cause dismissed, wlien a servant 
 entered with a L'tter to Dc Liilc, whieli appeared to 
 cause liim no small disturbance: it was neither very 
 elrganlly fchled nor vttry legibly directed ; ** Who 
 brought this?" *» A ]){)or boy, Sir." *< And what is 
 become of Lim ?" ♦' He went away diixctly, Sir." De 
 Lill", V, ho by tliis time liad broken open the seal, chan-» 
 gei] Ci;l;)r, but cai'f lessly saving, '• I see 'tis an appli-' 
 cation for charity," put it into Iiis })ocket, in cvidei'it 
 perplexity. *' 
 
 *' If it was an application for charity," observed his 
 wif.s " it is somewhat stran.^e tlie bo} shoidd go with- 
 out waiting for an answci." *• If — " retorted De 
 I.ille, with unguard.'d vehemence, *» it is imptKssiblc I 
 sltould be misfaki^n in its contents ;" and risi)ig, he went 
 to tl)e wind w in <'vid nt disj K asure. Mrs. Dc Lille 
 threw on him a ^lanee fill (»f suspicion mingled with 
 anxi ly. Cor(i( li i v. as alain ed by his unusual ejn- 
 barj'assment. Sir Fr. deric hd<l thought of twenty (jufe- 
 tions to cimnge ihe sohjeet. nith(»ut pronouncing one, 
 wlieu thf ('o ;! 'p ned. and Mis. Gladx^ in appeared, her 
 eyes radiant \\it!i joy, and ev(r> muscle moving with 
 deligat. She had just recciv d a l'tter fiMm Mis. ik-uce, 
 to wiiich was s i-jj dnc*;l a p»stcript from Altainont. 
 <' They are all w; 11," cried she, " and oh ! Mrs. De 
 Lill '. I'-Av mv Herbert, for he has .saved your son's 
 lit"-?"' — « Mv s>n, giod heavens ! and when was my 
 s >n'v lif indnngi?" •* Oh ! going on the water in a 
 boai the other day. he fell into it, and had not Altani .nt, 
 wh^ swims like Jhlius Cresar. juntped into the water af- 
 ter hiiii, he nr:st have b^ en drowned; oh ! trust me, 
 JUtaiuout vsiil be a great mau." TUeu turoing abrupt* 
 
VALSINORE. 61 
 
 ed, iind many a creaking pew hclokcncd impatience, and 
 many a shrill cough iniimaipd (iispl.asiirf, whilst Mr. 
 Qiiiiitin, witlj l(»oks at once dolorous and indiij,nant, en- 
 deavored to make tlic Reverend iMr. Bland smsihle ot* 
 his want of duty anU decorum. The cause of the delay 
 was soon explained, A\hen tour persons entoird the Dc 
 Li llr gallery, in inie of whom Valiancy discovered Lord 
 Marmiton, in the second his motlierj but of the third 
 and fourth, a venerable old man and a beautiful young 
 wo»)an, neither he nor Altamont had any inmicdiato 
 recollection. ♦» Surely," said the foi-mer, ** it must be 
 Cordelia;" *' Si. rely," said the latter, " it cannot bo 
 Cordelia." " This looks like an angel," said Vallan- 
 v\, " but the I ncognit a was a woman." 
 
 Altamont attended not to this observation, so much 
 was he delighted witli the object before him; not that 
 , lier face poss-.'sspd a faultless symmetry ; the fine open 
 forehead was st)me\vhat too high, but that defect was 
 concealed h\ her chestnut braided hair ; her profile was 
 exquisitely fine, yet an artist might have wished for a 
 rounder corJonr. JBut criticism was disarmed by the 
 eloquence of her eyes ; all petty strictures were forgot- 
 ten in contemplating a countenance so happily formed tf> 
 express every noble, every tender sentiment, that it dif- 
 fused the love ot viitue with the light of beauty. 
 
 Valiancy was lost in conjectures respecting the causa 
 of Lord Marmitcm's ap])earancc. As he wisljed to sur- 
 prise his mother, he waited till she had l^ft the clinrcl!, 
 and then stealing out with his friend at a private door, 
 by a well known field path, quickly reached the house, 
 and both had taken tbeii- station on the law^i, \> hen Mrs. 
 De Lille and her party aliglited from tli'e carriage. Lord 
 Marmiton was again the prominent personage ; he gave 
 liis arm to the matron, leaving the young lady to the 
 venerable man, a Mr. Halter, who Inid in reality occa- 
 sioned his Loi'dsldp's visit. This admirabie being had 
 been long distinguished in Germany fer his active bene- 
 volence, and wiis indebteil to Baron Rouvigny for his 
 introduction to Lord Iriu ,\>,iiton. through whose mcdl-n^ 
 he hoped to rccomm€n*,^'"^\)e of his pliilantluopic pUii.s 
 
62 VALSIXORE. 
 
 to the British government. His lordsliip received the 
 proposal with his accustomed suavity and apathy : in his 
 heart he cared for nothing hut his own personal intiM'cst 
 and the aggrandizenjent of his family. He was, howe- 
 ver, willing to shower down civilities on Ualler, whom 
 lie almost conjptlled to remain at his seat much longer 
 than was desirable to his unworldly guest ; who having 
 at li ngth expressed his anxiety to be introduced to the 
 aunt and friend of Miss Rouvigny, his Lordship protest- 
 ed he would convey him to Beachdale, to enjoy to tli» 
 last moment the privilege of his society. 
 
 They had now' spent a week in the village, much to 
 the satisfaction of Mrs. De Lille, and to the infinite de- 
 light of Cordelia, w ho already considered Haller as tlie 
 first of human beings. At sight of her son, Mrs. De 
 Lille utters an exclamation of joy, and then throws a 
 look of solicitude on Cordelia. His lordship, compre- 
 hending the cause of her agitation, springs forward, 
 hut being somewhat purblind, opens his arms, not to 
 Valiancy, hut to Altamont. Mrs. De Lille reproachful- 
 ly asks if he has forgotten her son. Valiancy, with ad- 
 mirable grace, removes the aukwardness this blunder 
 had occasion.-d, by saying, <* Lord Marmitou was right, 
 for your son's preserver siiould be welcomed before your 
 son." Lord Marmiton immediately paid his compliments 
 to Altamont, whom thougii he had once well known, he 
 appeared to have w holly forgotten ; and Mrs. De Lille 
 favored hiin w ith a most gracious reception. In the mean 
 while Cordelia and Hallcr arc left to themselves: she 
 waits in vain for the recognition of Altamont, who still 
 gazes on her with mingled admiration and incredulity. 
 It is impossible to identify his little i)upil, with the tall, 
 graceful, dignified creature before him. ** She must 
 surely be older, or has Cordelia leapt into perfection ? 
 Imagination cannot improve her !" Cordelia at length 
 perceives his embarrassment, and scarcely knowing 
 whether to be flattered or mortified, advances a few pa- 
 ces, and offering her hand w itli an air of modest fran' 
 ness, says in a voice whose ever.v tone inspires delig' 
 «* And must i w ait to be i^t'^ educed to my old, ar 
 
VALSINORE. 63 
 
 curtseying \vitli an involuntary expression of archness, 
 " my veiirrablc preceptor?" 
 
 Altauu>nt took lier hand with seeming cohluess ; a 
 sentiment of res])ect repi'essed the impulse of aft'cction. 
 ** You are, indeed, presented to me in a new form." 
 
 " And had you then (ptite forgotten Cordelia ?" 
 
 *' I know not Iiow to reconcile the two Cordelias to 
 each other." 
 
 *• Oh! don't imagine you see a changeling; I could 
 hriiig a thousand proofs to conviPice you I am tiie same 
 creatui-e who was so tenderly protected hy Mr. £rucc> 
 and so often lessoned and corrected hy ijou.'^ -- 
 
 Altamont was ready to protest agaiiist the word cor- 
 rected ; the j)upil now appeared so perfect, so supreme 
 in loveliness, that it was painful to imagine she had ever 
 been otherwise. 
 
 And now, continued she, " as I can never be your 
 preceptor, let m<' introduce you to Mr. Haller, wlio is 
 worthy to iiave the best and noblest of human beings for 
 liis pupils." 
 
 If Altamont was grateful for tliis attention, Cordelia 
 Avas gnficful from the recolhction of his former kind- 
 ness; and each had unconsciously inspired the otiicr 
 with the same sentiment. 
 
 ,. And now Haller, who had already learnt to translate 
 'the language of C(»rdelia's countenance, approached and 
 rec( ivcd the stranger with an air of cordial friendship. 
 
 ♦* Ml. Altai)i(mt," said he, with a genuine smile, 
 « ever since [ have known this lady, 1 have been under 
 OMiigiitions to you : for you, she tells me, were her first 
 ptvcc|)ioi-." At this unexpected compliment, which 
 fi'om such venerable lips, seenn d to descend like a ben- 
 ediction, Cord( lia cast down her eyes, whieli glistened 
 'with ddight; she could not but be proud to receive such 
 praise from Haller; and she was prouder still, that the 
 fair rep«>rt was niacle to Altainont : — yet she breathed a 
 secret sigh, hst she should not be found worthy of the 
 precious distinction ; but then she mentally promised to 
 become so. Her heait was oj)preRsed with gratitude and. 
 humility, and yet she almost hold her breath, as if to 
 F 2 
 
*>* VAISINORE. 
 
 prolong the delicious sensation. Haller drew his young 
 friends to a retired walk, leading to the park ; whilst 
 Mrs. De Lilk^, who had been gratified by the division 
 of her party, conducted Lord Marmiton and V^allancy to 
 a summer-liousc opening on the garden, which was call- 
 ed the pavilion. 
 
 The philanthropist was delighted with his young 
 companions ; active and cliccj'ful, he seemed not sensi- 
 ble to the pressiire of age ; he confessed, indeed, a slight 
 degree of lameness, hut it was scarcely perceptible to 
 the nicest eye ; and as lie leaned on his staff, his cai-ri- 
 •Agc was no less dignified, than his aspect was open and 
 mMugriTHits— FtTr the last two years, he had also found 
 his hearing partially impeded ; but the sense of this in- 
 firmity, occasioned only the habit of inclining his head 
 towards the person he addressed, which made his coun- 
 tenance appear still more gracious : and sometimes he 
 extracted from this defect an excuse for shunning with- 
 out sullenness the conversation of those with wliom he 
 felt he could have no communion. Then his eyelid gen- 
 tly falling, his head somewhat reclining to one side, he 
 appeared to abstract himself from the present sofsne, and 
 to take shelter in liis own peaceful meditations, in 
 Lord Marmiton's society, he had often occasion to sink 
 into this attitude of abstraction ; with Mrs. De Lille he 
 was not sorry to be somewliat dull of apprehension : but 
 to Cordelia, he had opened immediately with compla- 
 cency and cordiality, and almost at the first glance ap- 
 peared to have given her his paternal benediction. To 
 Altamont he shewed equal fiankness ; and putting him- 
 self between them, he engaged in conversation with his 
 new acquaintance on the countries they had visited, and 
 was evidently pleased with the spirit of his observations. 
 
 Bailor was one of the few old men who relish the en- 
 thusiasm of youth ; and when Altamont confessed, that 
 he could not help regretting those classical ages of Greece 
 and Rome, when the halo of glory encircled tlic head of 
 genius; lie dropt not his eyelids, (that idiomatic ex- 
 pression of dissatisfaction) he merely inclined his head, 
 an unconscious smile stealing to his lips, and after a 
 
VAISINOBE. 65 
 
 momentary pause, replied, « if you recollect that you 
 are a Briton, you will not surely wish to have been a 
 Roman." Tliough Ha'h i- never mentioned f-^ni^hmd as 
 his native country, it was impossible to conceive that he 
 belonged to any other. 
 
 This amiable conlerence was interrupted by Vallanc}, 
 who, escaping from his companions, requested Alta- 
 mont to join him ; and taking his arm, setined to have 
 something important to connnunicate, llaller looking 
 after Altamont, exclaimed, witii a sort of sigli, <• That 
 is a nohlc creature ! but I fear he is reserved for bitter 
 disappointment. Such a spirit as his accords little with 
 the world." Cordelia, who luvd almost feared he would 
 misconceive his character, thanked him witli hert\vos 
 for doing justice to her first preceptor. Ilaller had a 
 second time blessed her witlj the music of praise; and 
 her heart was again attuned to joy; but she had now, 
 no doubt, no ditVulcnce, no humility : he spoke of Ik r 
 master and her friend, and in him her faith was jirm ami 
 immutable. 
 
 Valiancy had called to Altamont, to observe a pic- 
 ture which had met his eyes the moment he ente;cd the 
 pavilion : it was a female figure in the character of Flo- 
 ra. On enqniiing for whom it was intejulcd, his mother 
 had carelessly re})lied, it was a fancy sul>jcct copied by 
 Cordelia." But," added he, " it is the most striking 
 likeness possible, of tlic Incognita. I plainly perceive 
 my mother is manauvring; find out if possible whose 
 picture it is, for I never can believe sucli a marked le- 
 scmblance is accidental." Valls^ney was peit'ccth cor- 
 rect in his conjectures ; but the charge to Altamont came 
 too late. Mrs. De Lille having in that interval separa- 
 ted Cordelia from Hallor, to give her a strict injunction 
 to secrecy, at the same time observing, that hrr son was 
 obviously charmed with the portrait, Coidelia simply 
 expressed her satisfaction ; but Mrs. De 1^111- ])rej)os- 
 scssed with the idea that this imiocent girl luul formed 
 th? ambitious design of cajjtivatiiig Valiancy, and deter- 
 mined to thwart her supposeil wishes, fancied she de- 
 
66 VAXSINORE. 
 
 tected some chagrin in her countenance, and exulted in 
 the anticipation of her (Jisappointment. 
 
 Being now assembled in the drawing room, Haller 
 Mas for tlic first time introduced to Valiancy, who was 
 still in liis most amiable mood, and so gaily sportive that 
 he could scarcely restrain the exuberance of his spirits. 
 Lord Mann iton and Mrs. De Lille enjoyed his sprightly 
 sallies ; and His Lordsliip, always complimentai, said, 
 « I do not know. Valiancy, that you could fill up a 
 pause in a diriJier at a Lord Mayor's table ; but I am 
 sure you will idways be ready to amuse the house, when 
 the right member is not at hand to support a motion." 
 
 " But, my Lord, I am not going, like Mr. Quintin, 
 to be a trigger to the treasury bench ; and I shall, I be- 
 lieve, be tlje firat of our family (females excepted) who 
 Las ever entered the ranks of oppositioii." 
 
 Well, Sii", you are a young man, and therefore it is 
 but natural you should be in a minority : but, take my 
 word for it, Valiancy, whe*n you come to be married, 
 you will give your vote," looking significantly, *' on the 
 right side." 
 
 •• Does your lordship mean to say, that a married 
 man is merely Ms wife's proxy, or that he cannot be a 
 fion content ?" 
 
 " Have a cai-e, Signor Benedick," cried Mrs. De 
 Lille, <• or you will surely meet with your Beatrice." 
 
 " No, Madam, my vows are pre-engaged to a St» 
 Cecilia, in Italy.'* Then, turning abrubtly to Cordelia,^ 
 lie added with affected gravity, ** Pray, are you very 
 cruel to your votaries ? for I saw more knees prostrated 
 to you, than to our lady of Loretto, It is true, upon 
 my honor, you are so very like a saint, who is wor- 
 shipped from morning to night at Naples, that when I 
 saw you at church, I fancied you had started from the 
 canvass.'* 
 
 " Mrs. De Lille colored, whilst Lord Marmiton said» 
 with much gallantry, " How can } ou compare her to 
 any thing so ijtanimate ? Shew me the artist who can 
 do justice to nature ?" 
 
 ' Oh, my Lord, this picture was a happy sketch of 
 
VALSINORE. Qf 
 
 (he fancy, a prefigu ration of boaiity licreaftcr to exist, 
 01' peiliaps a rellection of beauty that had previously ex- 
 isted. It is very delightful to behold so niauy impressi- 
 ons of one beautiful faee : for instanee, now that fi,y;ure 
 of Flora, which you say is a fancy pieco, is so like a 
 faee I have somewhere seen, tliat 1 should call it an 
 original." 
 
 Mrs De Lille eagerly enquired, Avhere he had met 
 with the person of whnm he was i-eniinded. 
 
 »< Where? Wliy 1 think. Madam, it was about two 
 years ago, at Bologna." 
 
 Mrs. De Lille looked so dissatisfied, tliat tlie bene- 
 Tolent Ualler, wlio had hitherto sat wrapped in abstrac- 
 tion, was just going to address her, when the dignified 
 Mr. Quintin stalked into the room, and having heard of 
 Valiancy's arrival, formally congratulated his nmther 
 : on his happy return. The vivacious Valiancy, eagerly 
 anticipating the end of the sj)eeeh, started up, exclaim- 
 ing, "* My dear Sir, \v<uihl a on have recollected me ?" 
 Quintin, taking out his snuK'box, and very deliberately 
 putting into his nostrils the pungent poN\ dor, to ap])ly a 
 stimulus to his memory, replied at length, « Most as- 
 suredly. Sir." 
 
 <* What a morTifying sentence have you pronounced 
 against me. 1 had flattered myself I was so much im pro- 
 ved, (pardon me, motlier, corrected,) that I should no 
 longer be recognized as the same person j but I see how 
 it is, Mr. Quintin, you have not forgotten the court, 
 wheie if a man is once pricked down on the black list, 
 the gates of preferment ai'C forever shut against him." 
 
 Lend Marmiton, now finding it impossible to be silent, 
 observed, " it is a man's own fault to get upon that list. 
 He lias undoubtedly made a capital UHScalculation in ta- 
 king the wrong side of fortune. Such a man. Valiancy, 
 must be a green horn, an enthusiast, a knave, or a fool," 
 
 " Do you observe, Altanmnt, His Lordship's para- 
 phrastic translation of your favorite name of Patriot? 
 Mr. Quintin, my friend and I have long carried on a 
 controversy, which is still undecided, on ancient and 
 modern times. We are very dilTercnt, you perceive 
 
 ./ 
 
 ^ 
 
 "^ 
 
6S tAXSINORB. 
 
 from other young men of our age. "We have really 
 spent our days like two students fagging to become sen- 
 ior wranglers. We have studied diagrams, instead of 
 frequenting polite circles. We have been star-gazers, 
 instead of dancers. We have scarcely opened oui- lips 
 to a woman ; and as to beauty, it is only since our arri- 
 val," glancing at Cordelia, " that we have been blest 
 with the sight of it." 
 
 " Well, Sir," said Mr. Quintin, w ith inflexible grav- 
 ity, " and may I presume to enquire the subject of your 
 debates ?" 
 
 « Sir, my friend, though he insists that there was 
 more public virtue in the classical days of Greece and 
 Kome than we can pretend to, yet insists also, that for 
 the last fifty years, we have taken a turn for impi'ove- 
 ment, and are likely by degrees to lose all traces of the 
 barbarism and ignorance of our poor grandfatheis." 
 
 " Barbarism aud ignorance !" reiterated Mr. Quin- 
 tin, knitting his brows with much asjjerity, « and pray 
 Sir," addressing Altamont, " in wliat modern foppe- 
 ries does this boasted improvement consist ?" Altamont, 
 perceiving his friend's malicious drift, gravely answer- 
 ed, ** You will, at least, allow a man cannot now be 
 ptit into the inquisition like Galileo, for discovering that 
 the earth moves round the sun." 
 
 ** Sir, that is out of the question j we will confine the 
 comparison to our own country. Can you sincerely 
 affirm, that we are wiser and better than our fathers 1*' 
 
 " We ougbt at least to be happier ; an old woman is 
 not now liable to be burnt as a witch ; and a learned 
 man does not create artificial misery by musing on 
 dreams, or casting nativities." 
 
 « But tljcn," retorted Valiancy, " I maintain, that 
 as soon as one stock of folly drops off, we are blessed 
 with another. Credulity, like the Lama of Thibet, is 
 immortal. There's quackery, supplies the place of sor- 
 cery. Instead of v/earing a harmless amulet round the 
 neck, we swallow down all the minerals and metals, and 
 absorb into our own systems the elements ofeai-thquakes 
 ^id volcanoes. To be sure, there is no Sorboune to de^ 
 
VAL3IN0RE. 69 
 
 sfroy us alive, but the Collc.^e of Physicians supplies its 
 place. We have escaped IVoin the cont'issor, to be en- 
 thi'alled by the lawyer. And when we die, our heirs, 
 instead of purcbasin.e; peace for our souls, have enough to 
 do to liberate our possessions from Chancery." 
 
 " But the great evil of ail," said Quintin, is, that a 
 geutleman is not now to he distijjg'uished from a man of 
 yesterday. It is inconceivablv* in wiial ignorance all your 
 youn.ej ])eo])le are of Ihcii' ancestors." 
 
 '< Ah ! Mr. Qniniin, the greatest evil of all is, that wo 
 have lost so mucli liberty." 
 
 « No, Sir." 
 
 " I fancy that I can prove it. Sir, to demonstration." 
 
 " Sir, begging your paidon, the demonstration is 
 impossible. Tlic King has lost much of his preroga- 
 tive." 
 
 ♦« Then the Queen has gained so much more influ- 
 ence." The one sex has constantly gained ground upon 
 the other. Formerly beauty miglit be mari'ed even in 
 youth ; but now, a handsome woman, thanks to innocu- 
 lation," bowing to bis mother and Cordilia, " instead 
 of being elected like the mistress of the robes for a sin- 
 gle administration, as Sarali Diiteliess of Mai'Iborough, 
 kce])s her power like one of the twelve judges for 
 life." 
 
 Mr. Quintin now first perceiving the irony, rubbed his 
 eyes, and rapped his box, and was utterly discomfited. 
 Lord Mai niiton, enjoying Ids conf. si )n, wliisuored, 
 " Ah my poor pedigree." HaHer w. is again going to 
 speak. — his mild eyes announce*! soi-u thing like rebuke 
 to Valiancy. But at this nv mei>t an unexpected addi- 
 tion was made to the conipany, which rendered his in- 
 terference uunecesary. 
 
? 
 
 5^0 YALSIXOBE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHEN De Lille parted from Sir Frederic Mowbray, 
 he mentioned his Nvifc's intended visit to Kent ; which 
 happened, how ever, to be nothing more than one of her 
 usual manoeuvres, with which from habit she was always 
 amusing or perplexing her husband. De Lille had re- 
 ally motives for visiting the metropolis, and he was still 
 detained there by serious business, when he heard of 
 Lord Marmiton's visit to Beachdale. At this news, all 
 otiier considerations were suspended ; and leaving his 
 affairs unfinished, he travelled with such expedition, 
 that he reached home before the hour of dinner, and 
 made his appearance just in time to give Quintin an op- 
 portunity of retreating from the argument. De lyille 
 had hastened to the drawing-room with such precijjita- 
 tion, that he was not apprized of Valiancy's arrival ; 
 but scarcely had he paid his compliments to Lord Mar- 
 miton and Mr. Halkn-, when Mrs. De Lille called his 
 attention to her son and Altamont. At tlie sight of the 
 former, he experienced only a momentary embarrass- 
 ment : but in nceiving !»is friend he bi^rayed an unusu- 
 al c ddn^'ss ; it was some time before he enquired for Mr. 
 or Mrs. Briic". 
 
 *< How can 'v^ be so ungrateftd ?" sighed Cordelia. 
 « Why is he s > g'>ner'uis ?" thoJiglit Altamont, who 
 attribited t!iis air of c >nstr<unt, to the consciousness of 
 his secret donation ,• and yet, could not help revolting at 
 the conviction. 
 
 The sumnvnis to dinner proved a seasonable relief; 
 wIk'u Valiancy, all gui'.-ty and gallantry, gratified De 
 Lille by taking the chair fi-^xt Cordelia, on whom he be- 
 stowed his undividiMl att' ntion. Hitherto Mrs. De bille 
 had regarded her husband with unwonted complacency ; 
 but now, though too discreet to raise licr voice in anger, 
 she shewed her dip.satisfiiction in various trifling circum- 
 stances, perceptible only to the nicest observation j sli« 
 
YALSINORli. "ta 
 
 complaiiK who made mc promise to serve in parliamoiit." 
 ; she siiciiHe, now tliinkiiig it incumbent on him to unite 
 I Tb common cause, said, with the host ^a;race i in as^in- 
 ■> le'V, " 1 trust Mr. Altamont is loo j^ood a patriot to 
 ; fljsist sucli a plea." Altamont did not resist ; he was 
 nit too happy to obey ; and his actpiicscence diffused 
 general satisfaction. V'allancy whispered to him to as- 
 certain whether Miss Rouvigny was not the original 
 Flora, and repeated his injunction of secrecy respecting 
 the Incognita. Lord Marmiton then proposed that Dc 
 Lille should accompany them, observing facetiously, ho 
 was a most successful canvasser with the ladies. Th« 
 evening passed in perfect liarmony. Mrs. De Lille was 
 lightened of half her cares ; her husbaiul not divested 
 of his hopes ; Valiancy animated by anticipations of 
 success : Quintin was gladdened by a bustle, which re- 
 minded him of a levee ; Haller was pleased with the 
 general expression of content ; and Cordelia, satisfied 
 with her father, charmed with her step-moth.er, delight- 
 ed with her preceptor, how beautiful was her counte- 
 nance ! what lovely visions played around her fancy ! 
 what a tender delici«)us joy filled her heart ! With those 
 sweet, pensive features, those downcast eyes, how umjcU 
 , more than gay, how happy was Cordelia ! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DE LILLE, though unwilling to lose the tclat of 
 Siccomi>anying Lord Marmiton, from whom since his 
 marriage he had never before received any mark of at- 
 tention, was little satisfied with the arrangement, which 
 left Cordelia so accessible to her first preceptor. Pi-c- 
 vious to his departure, he took an opjwrtunity of re- 
 peating to his daughter all the encomiums Valiancy and 
 lus Lordship had pronounced on her beauty, again as- 
 suring her that Mrs. De Lille was incensed at her supe- 
 
 G 
 
 .M 
 
f* VALSINORE. 
 
 Hority to Miss Rouvigny. He tlien expressed his coii- 
 coin that tlie hfuisc was to be cncunibciCil diirinji; his ab- 
 sence with such a young man as Altairiont, not that he 
 distrusted her pmdencef on the contrary he was sure she 
 ^vould know how to presei've l«ei' own dignity and re- 
 pulse his attentions, it' he siioiild dare to obtrude them. 
 Me concluded by saying, that l»e Ijopcd she would defeat 
 his wife's malice, whose aim it had ever been to keep her 
 in humble obscurity. He then left her abruptly, un- 
 willing perhaps to involve himself in any thing like an 
 altercation, which might very naturally arise in her 
 zeal for the vindication of her first preceptor. 
 
 Cordelia, it will easily be imagined, was no longer 
 satisfi d with her father, and when she returned to the 
 company slie was almost equally dissatisfied with Alta- 
 mont. He had no longer that look of animation and en- 
 thusiasm ; she missed the ardt-nt expression of admira- 
 tion she had before obsci ved in his countenance ; he now 
 wore a grave, and almost a melancholy, aspect. Cor- 
 delia fancied lie regretted his friend's departure, and 
 Wondered how it Iiad come to pass that every body had 
 appeai'ed so happy yesterday. 
 
 Wlieu the canvassers were gone he retired to his own 
 apartment, to write letters to Switzerland, or perhaps 
 to indulge ids own meditations. Till he was once more 
 in Bcachdale it had never seriously occurred to him, how 
 little he had employed his talents since he left it ; and 
 till he saw Cordelia he had never deeply regretted those 
 illusions of fancy in which, he had wasted his youth. To 
 what purpose had he hitherto lived ? His talents were 
 not known beyond the college, or tlie circle of his friends ; 
 lie had travelled ; he had acquired a fund of knowledge, 
 ^nd still he had liv?d for no lionorable, no noble objpct. 
 Those anonymous letters, those mysterious remittances, 
 were now remembered witli regret, almost with disgust. 
 All tilt se reflections were sufliciently obvious, but he was 
 indebted for them to Cordelia : by a single impression 
 made on the heart, the dreams of fancy dissolved in air, 
 and returned to theip primitive nothing. Nor was this 
 his only source of painful reflection ; he knew not whe- 
 
VALSTNORE, 75 
 
 titer to consider Do Lille as ungrateful or generous. 
 W'lieu lie compared all tlic ciiciMustanees attending those 
 secret donations, lie agreed with Mrs. Bruce, that they 
 could have been transmitted (Voin no other quarter ; but, 
 Avhcn he saw and heard the- suj^posed donor, he almost 
 suhscrihed to his tViend \ allaiu.v's o])inion, that it was 
 as likely to have come from the Genii. 
 
 This state occasioned sucli painftd alterations of feel- 
 ing, that he determincii not, even if Cordelia should in- 
 duce him, to remain at Beaclidfde, if he c )idd not dis- 
 cover whether De Lille was oi* was not his pri\ ate bene- 
 factor. Notwithstanding all these severe resolutions, 
 his pensivcncss vanished, he knew not how, when he 
 had been half an liourin her society. But the cloud 
 that had rested on his countenance passed to her's, when 
 Hallor observed, that having failed in the object of his 
 mission to England, he should return to Gri'manj' in 
 three or four weeks. Mrs. l)e Lille was profuse in ex- 
 pressions of regret ; and having exhausted all she had 
 to say on the subject, somewhat abruptly asked, if he 
 was not an Englishman. <» In my father's right, Ma- 
 dam, if not in my own ; I was, I believe, horn in this 
 kingdom, but have spi'nt almost all my life out of it !" 
 After this question he sunk into his meditative mood, 
 from wiiich he \\ as only rouzed w hen Cordelia proposed 
 a walk, lie readily assented. Altaniont was invited to 
 join them ; and as Mrs. Dc Lille had happily no relish 
 for such rural plrasiires. they proceeded, without her, 
 to a heath-eovtred hill, which had been Altamont's fa- 
 vorite haunt in childhood; and was so celebrated for its 
 salubrity, that a])plications were often made for the ad- 
 mission of patients to the farm-house, (the only habita- 
 tion it afforded,) for their recovery. 
 
 The path wound through green lanes and delicious 
 fields, ])resenting a constant variety of landscape. At 
 first, Haller walked with his two young friends, equal- 
 ly delighting them with his funds of knowledge and 
 thought, his rcrmcd sensibilities aud unaffected benevo- 
 lence. He never entered on p(ditical or metaphysical 
 discussions ^ he had a few simple principles to which 
 
 G2 
 
>»»>.»« wfi. ' "^"vjn 
 
 76 VAtSlNORE. 
 
 all liis wisJom appended ; he loved to think tliat society 
 like man was in a pi'Oi^pessive state, and that virtue and 
 tnitli were advancinsj their course. To talkloni;, how- 
 ever, even on these most congenial tlicmes, seemed to 
 fatigue his attention ; he required the fs'ecdom of silence 
 and solitude for peace and meditation. When they 
 reached tlie summit of the hill, therefoi*e, he quitted iiis 
 com])anions, and, stationed on a verdant knoll, con- 
 templated the distant sea, so dimly seen, tl»at its sub- 
 lime storms were only present t(» the eye of fancy, wliilst 
 the wide expanse of country suggested images of peace, 
 plenty and security. Altamont and Coidelia gazed on 
 his mild religious aspect. " The first moment 1 saw 
 him," cried Altamont, " I could have wished to call 
 him father." « I'hat was exactly my feeling," rejdie<l 
 she ; then blushing with the consciousness that she might 
 seem tn reflect on her own parent, she added, " for he 
 apjjcars to be the common guardian of the human race.'* 
 
 " Tiiosc very words," cried Altamont, " were on 
 my own lips ; but why does he lead this melancholy ex- 
 istence ?" 
 
 *« Melancholy ! he is surely the most cheerful old man 
 I have ever known ; and though he has neither wife nor 
 chihlren, he seems not a solitary being ; he creates for 
 his heart so many interests, and he has so much tender- 
 ness, I chould readily make him a confessor." 
 
 Altamont's eyes avowed that hctho'tshe had no faults 
 to acknowledge, hut he checked the expression of Ids feel- 
 ings, and, looking at her steadily, said, " I believe I 
 oould convict you of an amiable treachery ?" 
 
 " My conscience answers, not guilty." 
 
 <* Is it not to you I owe"— he stopt, unwilling to pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 " You owe mc r.othing. I am, and ever shall be, 
 your mother's debtor." 
 
 *' Cordelia, yes, I must once more call you Cordelia, 
 tell me truly, have you never heard of Valsinore's mu- 
 nificence to my mother?" 
 
 " Till this moment I never heard his name." 
 
 " No ! — ^then it could not be — and yet it must be." 
 
VAI*SISORE. 77 
 
 Here he appeared lost in perplexity. Cordelia ven- 
 tured to enquire what he meant by his questions. 
 
 Altauiont, wlio, since he had nothing else to oflt-r, 
 found it soothing to give his confidence to Cordelia, rea- 
 dily commenced his mother's story ; and pei-ceiving that 
 Haller had quitted his station, and was quietly n sting 
 in tlie porch of (he farm-house, caressing tlie chihhen 
 oftlic famUy, who had gathered round him, ho led Cor- 
 delia to a plantation of fir trees, where, in his boyish 
 days, he had I'aised a swing for her amuseiiK'nt. Cor- 
 delia well remembcivd the trees between vliiclj the sim- 
 ple macliinc used to be suspended ; its ])lacc was now 
 sui)plied by a riistic bencli, where Altamont, inviting 
 her to rest, soon fin.ished his little narrative; at which 
 she was so much touched, timt had lie before distiiisted, 
 he must now have been convinced of her sincei'ity. He 
 then mentioned all he had lately heard of Valsinore ; 
 and as she had partici])ated in his romantic Ju)pcs, sho 
 shared deeply in his regrets. <» But still," said Cor- 
 delia, " I cannot understand why you should suspect 
 me of treachcr} ?" Altamont w as at first embai-rasscd 
 by tlie question, but repulsing t!ie disingenuous inii)ulsc 
 w hich would Iiavc induced concealment, he coidcssed the 
 mysterious enclosures ; adding, " under these circum- 
 stances, you will not wonder if I am grown suspicious 
 of obligation.*' 
 
 Cordelia lequired no farther exjdanation, for she ea- 
 sily comprehended that he alluded to her father. " Let 
 ns yet hope," she answered, *• that Valsinore exists ; of 
 this I am certain, there is no one \\ithin my acquaint- 
 ance, who has the power to confer such benefits. Be 
 assured you have never yet seen your noble bcnefuctoi*." 
 
 Here, perceiving that Haller was approaching, they 
 rejoined tlieir venerable associate, who was agaiji dis- 
 posed to relish S(Kiety, and conversed with exquisite feel- 
 ing on the poetical sentiment associated with picturesque 
 scenery, and the inexhaustible varieties of natuie. »• Im- 
 agination." said he, «* peoples every delightful scene 
 with the vii'tucs; most amiable^ most bencficeut ta mati" 
 
 G3 
 
78 VALSINOEB. 
 
 kind. I am now shut out from a tlioiisand avenues of 
 hope and pleasure, I have lost many faculties of enjoy- 
 ment j but this remains, for it is mental and immortal/* 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE confidence reposed by Altamont in his formcj- 
 pupil had restored them to the frankness of familiar 
 friendship. Cordelia secretly pronounced her father's 
 surmises unjust ; and exulting in the conviction of his 
 honorable principles, she magnanimously resolved to 
 prove tliat theii* mutiial sympathy was not incompatible 
 with the most disinterested attachment. 
 
 She had heard such modes of attachment stigmatized 
 as dangerous and delusive ; but though gentle and timid, 
 she had too much imagination to subscribe, on all occa- 
 sions, to the dictates of prudence. She was, besides, 
 an enthusiast in the cause of virtue, and had a generous 
 disdain of all sordid cautions, all vulgar susj)icion. She 
 had lived too much in her own world, to relish the tru- 
 isms which mclanclio\y experience has forced ujion man- 
 kind. In short, she had all that sensibility which so of- 
 ten proves dangerous to its possessor; bat her senti- 
 ments were always noble : her heai't disclaimed commu- 
 nion with all but noble beings. Having decided that 
 Altamont was to be her friend, she daily annexed to 
 that title some new privilege, some still more sacred 
 duty. 
 
 Recollecting that her father had stigmatized him as 
 a dangler on Valiancy, she ventured in her turn tp be- 
 come the monitor, and urged him to embrace some pro- 
 fession which should give scope to his talents and ambi- 
 tion. She confessed how much her own childish pride 
 ha«l been mortified by his rebukes of her inattention, 
 and by what exertions she ha4 sought to regain his ap* 
 probation* 
 
YALSI?fOTlB, 79 
 
 AltamoTit almost feit compiincticn at tho assurance 
 that he liad ever caused her to wee}). Cordelia was cer- 
 tainly rcven,2;ed for his former aKjH-riiy : site ,G,lorie(! in 
 tJie possession (ifsucU a friend, and residved he should 
 be forcM-r the object of her sisterly afi'ection. 
 
 I'hc friend was not indociK; to her atlnionitions ; he 
 (/i</ think of tl'.e ijrofession she nrp;ed him to embi-ace, 
 and he sometimes thonght, too, lliat Corddia herself 
 might at some futr.rc ])eriod recompencc his exertions 
 and bless his choice. 'J'hns, if the first fantastic dream 
 of youth was gcnie, anothei* almi^st equally romantic, 
 but infinitely more deligiitful, si;pplied its ph.ce. In 
 the meanwhile he was hajipy in anticipations of happi- 
 ness ; whilst Cordelia, on the contrary, wanted nothing 
 to compleat her felicity, but the assurance that it should 
 be pei-mancnt. 
 
 She often wished her friend would confide in Ilallcr, 
 'but knew not how to suggest this wish. One morning, 
 liaving expressed her eagerness to see the manuscript 
 as a relic of his benefactor, Altamont j)iesented it for 
 her inspection, and she was gazing on it w ith reverence, 
 when ilaller, observing that none of tlie characters were 
 visible, offered to restore them by a simple process with 
 which he was perfectly acquainted. Altamont eagerly 
 accepted the proposal, but now a delicate scruple took 
 possession of Cordelia's mind. The manuscript was 
 perhaps the dejxKsitory of Valsinore's most seci-et 
 thouglits, and was it right to f(trcc them from their re- 
 ligious sanctuary ? At the name of Valsinore, IJallcr 
 listened with augmented interest; he had himself heard 
 of such a man, and his character was calculated to ex- 
 cite curiosity. 
 
 Altamont explained by what means these papers had 
 ]Come into his p»)seession ; ami Ilaller, after praising 
 Cordelia's singleness of soul, ])romised if he discovered 
 any charge of seeiecy, not to penetrate beyond the first 
 page. »» But may I ask what excites in you so mueb 
 curiosity for this Valsinore ?" ' 
 
 . ,;« Only,'* replied she eagerly, "that he was one of 
 ihe noblvst and most benevolent of human beings.'* 
 
80 VALSIXORE. 
 
 Altamont was silent : Hallcr enquired no farther, but 
 took the manuscript into his possession and withdrew 
 into his apartment. Cordelia wondered Altamont had 
 not chosen to repose in him more confidence. He guess- 
 ed lier thoughts, and irplicd to them, " No, I could 
 not relate to him the transaction ; 1 would not seem to 
 challenge interest, or claim assistance, even from such 
 a man as Haller.'* 
 
 Cordelia now thought him right, and again listened 
 to him with the deference due to her first prece])tor. But 
 this conviction of his superiority, by sanctioning her 
 choice, served only to fortify and confirm her affection. 
 In the evening, she was still prouder of her friend, when 
 in their rural walk, he avowed his intention of accom- 
 panying Haller to London, to procure his admission to 
 Lincoln's Inn, adding with a smile, he had but too long 
 indulged his idleness. 
 
 Cordelia, though delighted the first moment, was not 
 quite so happy the second ; and the period for departure 
 being so near, only three short days to intervene, she 
 may be pardoned for this involuntary regret. 
 
 To increase her chagrin, Mrs. De Lille, who was 
 now in daily expectation of Miss Rouvigny's arri\ al, 
 no longer urged Altamont to return to Beachdale ; for, 
 observing how agreeable he was to Cordelia, to whom 
 she had given him unbounded freedom of access, it oc- 
 curred to her, that he might happen to l)c equally ac- 
 ceptable to her niece ; and as she w as, w hen others 
 "were concerned, always anxious to nip folly in the bud, 
 she did not, when he mentioned his intended excursion, 
 think proper to remind him of his promise to consider 
 her house as his home. 
 
 Cordelia was so chagrined by this forbidding silence, 
 (purely, as she fancied, because it appeared ungrateful) 
 that in the evening, wlien called u})on to play dui'ing 
 twilight, she coidd only think of melancholy tunes. 
 <* What a dismal ditty !" cried Mrs. De Lille, perceiv- 
 ing that Haller was more than usually ahsfi acted. 
 
 « No," said he, « it is only too delightful. In lis- 
 teuing to a sweet strain of music I am caiTie^ back as , 
 
V.VISIXORE. 81 
 
 in a dream to fwlii^^s -and impressions uhich had lap- 
 sed into oblivion ; what is forgotten is not missed : re- 
 gret is the gift of remembi'anee." 
 
 For the last two days, Ilaller was the most cheerful 
 of thcj)arty; but on the eveningpreceding their depart- 
 ure, Mrs. Dv liilh^ suchlenly recollected that Altamont 
 \Nas her son's lepresentative, and that she could not 
 permit him to go without a solemn ])romisc to return. 
 
 The motive of her hosi)itality is easily accounted for 
 by her having received a letter from Sir Frederic, an- 
 nouncing Miss Rouvigny's farther detention ; and ano- 
 ther from Lord Marmiton. in which, after congratula- 
 ting her on her son's success, he mentioned his intention 
 of revisitiiig Beaclulale. 
 
 The delay was explained also hy Miss Rouvigny hav- 
 ing caught a fever during her journey, which, though 
 not dangerous, rendered it improper to travel till she 
 should have regained her sti'ength. Sir Frederic, it 
 will easily be supposed, was provoked at this unseason- 
 ahle detention ; and witli all his politeness, his letter 
 discovered less concern for his ward's indisposition, than 
 his own personal inconvenience. 
 
 Relieved from the fears of losing Altan)ont, Cordelia 
 was now grieved at tlie departure of Ilaller, from whom 
 she had vainly attempted to obtain the promise of cor- 
 wspondence. 
 
 " No," said he " an old man should have no intima- 
 cy but wilh those he can benefit. I came to England on 
 a public mission ; I return to Germany wilh the iiope of 
 obtaining, for a private individual, an act of equity and 
 justice. If I prosper in this, perhaps, last worldly bu- 
 siness I shall have to transact, you will see me again ; 
 otherwise" — lie stopped abruptly — tliere was a mourn- 
 ful pause — no one ventured to renew the subject. 
 
 He did not restore the manuscript till Ihe morning of 
 his departure, when it was given into Cordelia's cus- 
 tody, who voluntarily engaged not to loak into it with- 
 out Altamont. Hallcr, smiling with benignity at her 
 scrupulous integrity, observed, it would be much better 
 they should read it together j adding, she would die- 
 
::jr^_-^rm 
 
 82 VAISINORE. 
 
 cover it was ^VTittell for her particular instruction. 
 
 " But does it i-et'cr to Valsinore ?" 
 
 <' The vvritiM-'s name is not divulged ; but it contains, 
 in part at least, tlie history of some man wlio has tasted 
 an excess of hajipincss and misery. And now, is not 
 your curiosity excited ?" 
 
 « Yes ; but 1 shall still be faitliful to my trust— I 
 shall still wait till \vc can read it together." 
 
 Altamontj it niay be presumed, was iiot ungrateful for 
 this artless association. liallcr looked at them both 
 with affection; but though his eyes were bent on Alta- 
 montwith kindness, their more tender expression was 
 reserved excl usi vely for Cordelia. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ALTAMONT had not left Beachdale without a strug- 
 gle with inclination, for which he was, however, sopn 
 rewarded, by the consciousness of having acted in a man- 
 ner that rendered him more worthy of Cordelia. As 
 long as he indulged in his own meditations, or enjoyed 
 the society of llailer, his hopes were pure and ardent. 
 He cotdd anticipate a period of lecompsnce ; Ijc 
 cojdd imagine a scene of happiness, which invig- 
 orated his eiforts, and converted caie to pleasure. But 
 when he entered into company, he was sure to lose ma- 
 ny of tlmse bright illusions: the general tone of conver- 
 sation never failed to lower his feelings — ^to enfeeble his 
 energy. Every one liad kept a register of those who 
 had failed in the arduous undertaking. The old spoke 
 from cxpeiience, tlse young from authoritT^ : one quoted 
 precedent, another produced example ; and all concur- 
 red in representing a young man's probation for fame 
 as the most hazardous and hopeless of all exi)eriments. 
 
 lie complained to Haller of this discouraging lan- 
 guage, and its injurious influence. 
 
 " jRcscard itn'>t-' it is tlie faftlt, or perhaps the mis- 
 
VALSINORE. S3 
 
 fortune, of your countrymen to want entbusiasm ; but, 
 to tlieir lioMor, tliey are as liberal in rewaidiiiu; merit 
 once aeknowledj^ed, as tbey are slow in its tliscovery. 
 Let ciMiiai^e and perseveranee-he your motto, and you 
 A\ill ti*iiin)i)h over diseoiiragement. I am not indeed 
 f;. miliar witb tbc details of your profession, but 1 feel 
 assui'ed, it is one in wbicb real merit cannot lt)n,fi^ remain 
 buried in obscurity. But you must forj^et tbe romantic 
 visions of youtb — every tbing," added be smilinsj, ♦' but 
 Cordelia." 
 
 «* And tbat vision," said Altamont, " is perbaps tbe 
 most extravagant of all." 
 
 " Not totli(^ man w bo sball really deserve bcr. Am- 
 bition," add'd be, *' is a nobb^ passion ; but let it bnd 
 some object in tbe beart, ami lose its native bardncss, by 
 mingling \vi_tb tbe best and jlearest affections." 
 
 In sucb conveisation Altamont insensibly forgot tbo 
 ■'disparity in tbeir age, and poured fortb bis youtbful 
 feelings witli ingenuous confidence. 
 
 Ualler oncv^ said, " Tbe young accuse tbe old ofM^ajit 
 of sympathy ; but it is tbe old who arc sligbt«-d and 
 iieglccied, because tbeir feelings can only be understood 
 by tbose vvlia liave arrived at tbeir own experience. 
 The same passions wbich now reign in your soul bavc 
 prevailed in mine : I understand tbeir language, and 
 am iiu adept in tb;'ir idioms ; but i bavc since known 
 feelings witb wbicb you bavc yet formed no acquaint- 
 ance, and for these I should vainly ask consideration or 
 6y\upiitby." 
 
 AlSanifuit was sometimes iTminded of bis intimacy 
 witb VVoodvillc, of whose cliaracter be gave a sketch 
 witli equal animation and fidelity. He lamented tbe 
 lapse in tbeir e;rrt'spondence : but conscdcd bin>stlf 
 with the pcrsuasi.Mi, tbat bis friend was now enjoy- 
 ing t use and prospej-ity. 
 
 Uu'- evening as be was walking witb TIaller, convers- 
 ing on this siii>j*ul, and r>-giMtting tiuit a man of such 
 talents sli- i:lil have been lost to tbe world, be passed a per- 
 son whis; (ig^ire so strongly resrujbled Woodvilb's that 
 be had aiuiost pronounced bis name, when he was start- 
 
84. VAXSINORE. 
 
 led by liis ghastly hat^gard countenance. A moment's re- 
 flection convinced him this could not be Woodville. In 
 his momentary view of the sti*angei', he had observed 
 that he was sliabbily dressed, and had the appearance of 
 abject poverty ; besides, he looked so much older, that 
 it was clearly impossible. The impression, however, 
 dwelt on his mind, and he was unusually pensive, when 
 Haller suddenly begged him to take the address of a 
 Hamburgh banker, w ith whom he was acquainted, and 
 through whose mediimi he might always hear of him 
 whilst he continued in existence. 
 
 At parting for the night he bade him farewell, and 
 sliook his hand twice, but without intimating his intend- 
 ed departure ; nor was it till the next morning that h« 
 knew his friend was really gone, having left the house 
 at day-break, and, as was supposed, with the intention of 
 proceeding immediately to the place of cmbaikation. 
 
 Altamont was dissatisfied with this abrupt exit, in 
 wiiich he almost fancied he detected an eccentricity un- 
 worthy of so sublime a character. But he dwelt not 
 long on this Invidious subject; he recollected his en- 
 gagement to return to Beaclidalc, and with such precip- 
 itation did he prepare to fulfil it, that he took his seat in 
 a coach which only went witliin fifteen miles of Valian- 
 cy house, when, by waiting another hour, he might have 
 been conveyed within half a n»ileof the village. 
 
 On leaving the coacli he was fortunate enough to 
 procure a horse, on wliich he proceeded with such ex- 
 pedition, til at before the close of the day he came within 
 view of the hill to which he had so lately walked with 
 Haller and Cordelia. The sun was again sinking be- 
 neath the horizon, and Altamont animated by love and 
 ambition, contemplated the scene with unusual delight. 
 He has now just entered a wild romantic heath, by many 
 a childish ramble endeared to remembrance. It was here 
 and theie planted v. ith ti'ces, but raoi'e connnonly che- 
 quered only with furze, and of so uneven and undulating 
 a surface, that at evei'v ton paces the traveller obse"v- 
 ed a new landscape ; and though within sp quarter of a 
 mile of a public road, perceived no vestige of any human 
 habitation. 
 
TALSINOKEr %5 
 
 AUamont was gallopinj^ down a declivity, when lie 
 jpercoivcd before liini another solitary liorsenian.towhoin 
 a footpad, wlio at tiiat moment issued from an adjacent \ 
 
 thicket, was presenting a pistol. lie instantly spin-red ' 
 
 his horse to the spot ; the j^entleman was in the act of 
 delivering his pursf, when the robber, perceiving Alta- 
 Tnont, dropt the pistol from his hand, and darted back 
 to tbe c.)pse, yet not,so precipitately but that liis feat- 
 wres might be distinguished, and discoverd again the 
 pale haggard countenance so strongly resembling Wood- 
 ville. In tbe meanwhile, Altamont's horse having ta- 
 ken fright at the ))isto], which exi)loded in its fall, threw 
 his rider w ith such violence, that his right arm was Jis- 
 locuted. 
 
 Tbe person to whose relief he had arrived thus oppor- 
 tunely, and who was no other than De Lille, now ad- 
 vancing to the spot, assisted him to rise, and with many 
 acknowledgements for his kind interposition, conducted 
 him to a hovel on the other side of the heatli, from 
 whence he dispatched a boy for a surgeon, who lived in 
 the next village ; and then, as Altamont declined rc- 
 nvuniting ills horse, De Lille left it with liis own to tho 
 charge of the peasant who lived in this hut, and walked 
 with !iim leisui*ely to Bcacbdale. On tiieir way tht y 
 could talk of nothing but the late adventure. De Lille 
 ubsorvod, that often as he had traversed that lieath, it 
 was the first time he had ever met with any interrup- 
 ti')n ; and then added, that to spare his wife and daugh- 
 ter unnecessary uneasiness, it wouhl be well to suppi-ess 
 any mention-of the intended robl>ery. "Not," added 
 he, ♦* that I do not wish to do justice to your gallantry.** 
 
 Altamont readily concurred in the proposal ; and De 
 Lille added, " as to the wretch who attacked nie, I 
 could identify him at any time ; had you not a view of 
 his face l*'' 
 
 " I certainly had a glimpse of his features, and they . 
 stv'Migly reminded me of a much esteemed friend, whom 
 it is inip'jssiblc it should be." 
 
 " 'Tis a strongly mai'ked countenance," replied De 
 Lille, " and I should know it in any fpiaitcr of the globe. 
 
 H 
 
S6 VALSINOItE. 
 
 lie has a remarkable furrow in his foreliead, probably 
 occasioned by accident, \\ hich would distinguish him a- 
 jnong ten lliousand." 
 
 *' Do you tbink so slight a mark decisive ?" said 
 Altamont, *' for tbat 1 remeniber too in my fiiend." 
 
 « Oh, there ai-e otiier marks," said De Lille, care- 
 lessly, " but for the present, wc will say nothing about 
 liim> 
 
 Altamont was nearly exhausted when he reached the 
 house, from whicli Cordelia happened to be absent on a 
 visit wiih Mrs. De Lille ; and he therefore missed what- 
 ever pain or pleasure he might have experienced from 
 observing her countenance. In receiving the news, she 
 probably exerted some fortitude, since iier father, from 
 that time, seemed to have dismissed his suspicions of 
 lier friend, and now mentioned liinj with cordiality and 
 esteem. For some days be was confined, by the conscr 
 quences of tbe accident, to his chamber ; it was certain- 
 ly tantalizing to be thus estranged from Cordelia ; nor 
 was he consoled by her fatlier's daily visits, and specious 
 but lieartless courtesies, for the loss of her endearing so- 
 ciety. During bis impiisonment, he received a very 
 sprightly letter from Valiancy, who app.'ared to have 
 almost forgotten the Incogmtu in liis parliamentary anti- 
 cipations. 
 
 De Lille received an invitation to Lord Marmiton's, 
 which he was too politic not to accept ; and liaving now 
 detected the secret of his wife's perversi ncss, he menti- 
 oned Altamont to her, in terms of praise very difleivnt 
 from the language he had once addivssed to Cordelia. 
 This judicious stratagem succeeded ; and when the inv 
 lid was sufliciently recovered to rejoin the family, wiiic] 
 happened during De Lille's absiiice, he might have bee 
 struck with the change in her deportment, if he coul 
 iiave attended to any thing so insignificant in the pre- 
 sence of Cordelia. Not that he was immediately restO' 
 rfed to all the privileges he had previously enjoyed. 
 
 Each liad acquired a certain consciousness, whic 
 checked the flow of sympatliy ; and both missed th( 
 venerable aspect of iiaUer, iii whose society they couli 
 
VALSIXORE. 
 
 sy 
 
 watch each other's looks, witliout bctrajino; vis^ilance 
 or fi'ai'inj^ detection. This new situation jjrodiiced not 
 in eacli a similar change of sentiment. Altaniont, oh- 
 scrvini^ in Cordelia so mtich more reserve, was secretly 
 discouraged by her altei'ed deportment ; and as his jias- 
 sion increased, his confidence diminished. Conlelia 
 from her anxiety to prcseivc his friendship, had a la- 
 tent sus])icion of his h)ve ; not that she admitted to her- 
 self, Nvluit slic at once hoped and feared, and douhted 
 and believed ; b;it siie (hvaded her fathei"\s scrutiny, 
 aiid, as she coidd n.)t be disingenuojis, his enquiry. 
 She dreaded the possi!)ility of seeing him treated by her 
 family with rudejuss and contempt. Above all, per- 
 liaps, she diraded the susi)ension of that familiar inter- 
 course, the loss itf that endearing sympathy, at once so 
 satisfying to the heart, so congenial to tht' fancy, froni 
 which slie received siich deliglit. In this dihtnma of 
 sentiment, l«>ve itself became her monitor ; and as they 
 weiT fully at liberty to select their own amusement, she 
 re(|uested him to renew his instructions: protesting she 
 was ambitious to convince him that she could now be an 
 exeniplai-y j)upil. A monarch could not have conferred 
 on Altamont a title he held so dear, as that of Cordelia's 
 prcce])tor. 
 
 But what shall be the subject of their studies? She 
 has magnanimously resolved to forsake the Elysiaii 
 fields of poetry, for the higher regions of philosophy. 
 Timidity, for once, jissinning the office of wisdom, in- 
 volves in one ruthless proscription all the enchantiujj; 
 graces of the imagination ; and that every thing Icadini; 
 to sentiment may be banished from conveisation, she 
 professes a desire to ascend to that mathematical sphere, 
 so rarely explored by her sex. Altamont himself has 
 little relish for tins absti'acted world ; but any world 
 becomes deliglitful with Cordelia. And now behold her 
 listening with patient endurance, to such words as, 
 
 ** Isosceles and parellel, 
 «» Words hard to speak, and hard to spell 5'' 
 
 H2 
 
88 VALSINOKE. 
 
 <^hilst Altamont, with composed gravity, discourses on 
 tlic radii of the circle. But little docs this frii^id laii- 
 cjiiagc correspond with the impassioned enthusiasm kin- 
 diinj^ in his eyes, whenever he glances on the lovely pu- 
 pil, who receives the lesson with a bewitching air of 
 deference and docility, yet often fails to collect its im- 
 port, from the attention spontaneously offered to the 
 now indulgent and devoted tutor. The perusal of tlie 
 legend is still postponed to some more propitious mo- 
 ment ; it is perhaps an innocent device of the heart, to 
 prolong by the anticipations of fancy, the precious inter- 
 val of enjoyment. But this felicity approaches its close. 
 Mrs. De Lille, with triumph in her eyes, atmounces the 
 arrival of Miss Rouvigny in England, and instantly re- 
 minds Altamont of his promise to entice her Valiancy 
 back to Beachdale. 
 
 Cordelia loved Adela ; yet she could not rejoice at the 
 intelligence, since she had a presage that her arrival was 
 to be the sig'nal for Altamont's departure. *« She was 
 too much fatigued to write herself," reiterated Mrs. De 
 Lille ; " but Sir Frederic, who is all impatience to re- 
 turn, promises she shall be restored in a day or two." 
 
 Cordelia changed countenance ; her emotion escaped 
 the wary Mrs. De Lille, but was observed by Altamont, 
 so much more lynx-eyed is love than even susj)icion. 
 
 The first moment she was alone \\ith Altamont, she 
 offered to restore the manuscript on condition that he 
 should read it to her on th^ morrow. Altamont is too 
 Iiappy to escape from Euclid; his ardor for the manu- 
 script is revived ; for, of late, curiosity had been sus- 
 pended, and even gratitude absorbed in a dearer object. 
 Thotigh delighted with to-day, he tiierefore longs fop 
 the morrow, which promises him so much enjoyment. 
 
 The morrow came ; tiie family as usual assembled at 
 -Jie breakfast table, v/licn both Altamont and Cordelia 
 were struck with tlse perplexity in Mrs. De Lille's coun- 
 tenance, who, having hastily swallowed a cup of tea, 
 arose, and darted through the park towards the Grange, 
 the residence of tUo wealthy farmer Mr. Mapletoft, and 
 i'or some years the retreat of Mrs, Gladwin's aid protegee. 
 
VALSINORE. 89 
 
 In the last three weeks, Mrs. De TJIle liad often vis- 
 itc<l tins worthy croatiuv, to whom i\,v three 3 cars be- 
 fore, she IkuI scareely vouchsafed a siiiiijle civility. It 
 will be necessary to account for this ehan\i;c of condiut, 
 thou.a;Ii Mrs. De Lille herself would have been at a loss 
 to exphiin the motives by which she was seci'eily ijillu- 
 cnced. 
 
 It may be remembered, that th.e introduction of Celi- 
 a's fi'i( nd to tlie Grange, nearly coincide*! with the pe- 
 riod of Mr. nriice's departure from the vicara.i^e; and, 
 like evei'V other transaction effected by her ac;ency, was 
 conducted in the shape of njystery. INIis. Winifred was 
 no spinster, and expressions often escaped her, wliicli 
 intimated, that she had been peculiarly unfortiniate iu 
 Iier conju,2;al connection. No mention was ever made 
 of her family ; she was obviously illiterate and unedu- 
 cated ; but, what was most surprisinj^, she a])pear'Ml to 
 consider Celia as eminently her superior, though she 
 paid for her boaid alone, a sum more tlian equal to the 
 income of her nominal patroness ; and it was soon dis- 
 covered, that s!ie dispensed aluis to a considerable 
 amount. Her ptirse was almost as accessible as her 
 medicine ebest, in which siic took infinite delight. She 
 made soups for the sick, distributed clothes to the naked, 
 and was soon worsiiipped as the Lady Bountiful of the 
 parish. In all but goodness, indeed, she was a strikini^ 
 contrast to her romantic iViend. She was always atti- 
 red with plain and scrupidous neatness ; the cap and 
 pinner never forsook her head; and a gown of plain 
 grey silk was her constant unifornu llcr dress was 
 not plainer than her speech ; s!ie made no pretensions 
 to literature ; and, though she had oncs'^ at Celia's re- 
 quest endeavored to wade through the History of En- 
 gland, she soon desisted from the task, alledging that, 
 npon this occasion, she dozed so mucii by day, she 
 could not sleep at night. 
 
 With novels she experienced not the same diffic.ilties ; 
 and often did she sit in her easy chair, grcraning over 
 the sorrows of her distressed heroines, and raving at 
 tiio diabolical tricks of their male persecutors, FroDI 
 
 / 
 
90 VALSINOEE. 
 
 this exercise of fancy alone e«nil<l it have been suspected 
 that she was eapahic of one vindictive sentiment: but 
 sympathy betrayed this secret of hei* heart, that with 
 all her kindness, all her benevolence, and even Iiei* 
 charit)', she never forgot or forgave an injury ; often, 
 in her simph; language, declaring, that she eonld soon- 
 er die than iiless her enemy. In Mr. Mapletoft's 
 h)uschold, slic had happily found an object for her 
 •warmest affections, in a poor slighted youth, who had 
 been ti-ansplanted from a numerous family ; and who 
 received his maintenance from his rich relation, as an 
 act of charity. Feeble and sickly, with a decided aver- 
 sion to all active pursuits, he was found wholly useless 
 on the farm j and as Mr. ^Mapletoft chose not to throw 
 away money on his education, he was left to himself^ 
 and stigmatized a3 a zany, and considered as an in- 
 cumbrance, till he found a friend in Mrs. Winifred ; 
 who having nursed him in an ague, soon conceived for 
 her docile patient the most tender friendship. Having 
 discovered that he was fond of reading, she procured for 
 him through the interest of Mrs. Gladwin, full access to 
 ihe library at the abbey ; where it was his fortime to 
 attract the notice of Mr. Quintin, wlio sometimes em- 
 ployed him as a secretary, sometimes as a reader, and 
 now and then gave him in return a lesson in the latin 
 grammar, and a pompous dissertation on heraldiy. The 
 jBituation of Aleck Satchell (as he was called) was now 
 «hanged. The Mapletofts, perceiving Mrs. Winifred's 
 predilection, imagined he was to be Iier heir. Mr. Quin- 
 tin, flattered by his docility, pronounced him a prodigif 
 of application ; and Aleck himself was perfectly satisfied 
 that he should some day or other realize aU the fond fan- 
 tastic dreams of greatness, which had been, he knew not 
 when, or how long since, impressed on his ductile fancy, 
 A visionai-y is almost always the outcast of nature ; a 
 being, whom fortune should seem to have excluded from 
 happiness, and rarely admitted within the dear domes- 
 tic circle ; he has not shared in the rich, unbartered 
 blessings of friendship ; the cheap, yet precious, plea- 
 sures of home. lie is not found iii the lowest dftss oS 
 
VALSINORE, 91 
 
 poverty. Whoever has to earn the bi*cad he cats is in 
 no dan,2;er of wandering into dreams: but he who wants 
 everything which the soul re(jiiires, must inevitably be- 
 come obtuse or fantastic. It was thus wiih Akck. whf) 
 during infancy had no phvy mate, having been adopted 
 by a superstitious grandmother, who duly every niorn- 
 ing shook her tea-cup, and descanted on her dreams. At 
 iiiglit she was often disturbed witli that little spick-r, 
 whose tick-iike murmur has been supi)osed to betoken 
 death. She saw portents in the candle ; and if a coal 
 bounced from the fire, believed it was a s-unmons totliC 
 grave. She was accustomed also to calculate on years, 
 even and odd ; and had a thousand other vagaries, which 
 were dropt into Aleck's car. She had taught him to 
 read, and Jacob lU'thmen, and the History of >V itch- 
 craft and of Apparitions, formed his first studies. Once, 
 too, this care-worn personage took him to a cunning 
 woman, who told his fortune ; and predicted that he 
 should one day be a great man. The grandanic laugh- 
 ed ; but ever after, if she was pleased with the boy, 
 would stroke his head, repeat the pro])hecy ; and then, 
 looking into an old court calendar, count over the places 
 by the jmssession of which, it might be accomplished. 
 Aleck's natural iiutolence left him passive to impressions ; 
 he insensibly acquired some vague conceptions, that he 
 was born to no common destiny, lie amassed in ima- 
 gination a little treasury of lu)pe, and was satisfied ^^itll 
 l»is lot. >Vhcn he was transferred to l.T.'. Mapletoft's 
 family, where he had no longer this fond flattering 
 grandame, he endured eveiy slight and mortification, 
 still trusting, he knew not why, to this mysterious pro- 
 phecy. Though not blessed with instruction, he read 
 voraciously whatever books he could meet with ; some 
 of tlipse, the refuse of an old lumber chest, hapi)ened to 
 be of a metaj)hysical cast. His early superstitions were 
 clinging to his mind, but this new course of study 
 taught him to despise their names, whilst hcstill nou- 
 rished his fancy with their essence. A passion to ac- 
 count for every thing, sudileiily took possession of hia 
 uuud^ and; reflecting on his grauUiuutUer's dieftois^ ho 
 
 /* 
 
 Li. J' i 
 
92 ▼A19IN0RE. 
 
 began to think tliat if he knew the events of the day, he 
 couhl easily predict tlie visions of the night. He pursu- 
 ed tiiis fanciful enquiry witli success ; for as he was per- 
 severing in iiis questions, he generally extracted an an- 
 swer to coriespnnd with his previous calculation. He 
 now went one step farther; lie began to speculate on 
 the composition of dreams, and at length fancied he 
 could, by making certain imjjressiotis on the mind, in- 
 duce any i)articular j)erson to dream as he pleased. In 
 this too he succeeded, for the same i-eason as before ; as 
 by dint of im})ortunity, he sehloni failed to extort the 
 concession he wished. It is seldom possible to retrace 
 our dreams ; the effort of memory is commonly aided by 
 faney ; and with the uneducated people, on whom Aleck 
 operated, one illusion is often mistaken for the other. 
 
 *» Why do we fall in love ?"' was once said sportive* 
 ly by a young man as lively as Valiancy. 
 
 Aleck began to ponder on the subject, which apppared 
 to him pregnant with piiiloso])hy. He considered, that 
 the general susceptibility to tender impressions coidd by 
 no meaMS explain the circumstance of particular predi- 
 lection. The caprice of the passion was proverbial ; it 
 was not(»rious that neither beauty nor talents extorted 
 the preference ,• and what detcrmine'd the affections to 
 o)ie individual more than another, was often a problem 
 to the understanding ; and the occult cause had often 
 been resolved into secret sympathies, charms, spells, 
 and incantations ; he observed tiiat few people dived in- 
 to this subject, without admitting tlie operation of a cer- 
 tain species of fatality, wliich supposed the attraction 
 to he invincible. But might not all this, thought Aleck, 
 be resolved into intermediate mental agency ? May not 
 two individuals be impelled to think of each other, be- 
 cause they have been accidentally associated together in 
 the mind of a third pei-son ? Might not tliQusfht flow 
 like light, and was not its action produced by vibrations ? 
 This influence might hitherto have been accidentiiily ex- 
 erted, tiioiigh the existence of its principle was unsus- 
 pected ; as the magnetic property of steel existed long 
 before its application to tlic compass. And might not 
 
VAISINORE. 93 
 
 some superior luind. by intense, velirment, efficient ap- 
 plication, acquire the steerage of the liuniun affections? 
 
 To the obvious objection, that such powi r might be 
 misapplietl, he had an easy answer ; that such power 
 could never be exercised by any one, wlio was himself 
 under the dominion of the passions ; because it demand- 
 ed that ardent and perfect devotedness to an absti-act 
 subject of whicli no impassioned miiul was capable. The 
 hypothesis once launched, S(dved a thousand things 
 w hich had beoi hitherto deemed insoluble. It elucidated 
 the fables of mythology, Axhich he conceived to be no- 
 thing more tiian personifications of this princii)le : this 
 medium of sympathy, was by liini to be reclaimed for 
 mankind. To this be attributed the attachment of the 
 Spartans to their Lycurgus, and tiie submission of 
 Athens to her Solon. 
 
 <* It was by intense abstraction in these sages," cried 
 Aleck ; " it was by thinking constantly and vehemcnlly 
 of their fellow citizens, that they established tlieir men- 
 tal ascendancy." Tlien he reasoned, that the being who 
 should be sublime enough to compel the affections, might 
 also in time be powerful enough to still the passions, 
 which had been hitiiert(> pernicious to tl»e woild : and 
 the golden age of the poets, and the Utopia of pliiloso- 
 phers, would be realized, wlienever there sliould be a 
 sufficient number of superior minds to balance and har- 
 monize the moral sympathies. Enchanted with his tlje- 
 ory, he put it to the test of experinunt ; and for this 
 puriM.so, associated in iniaginati )n two young people of 
 the village; tliinking of tluni to the fXclt;sion of every 
 other idea, and witli an ardent aspiratiiui for tlicir fu- 
 ture fllcity. 
 
 The result was flattering ; for it Iiappcned that they 
 were soon united. Charmed with his first success, he 
 made the trial on another couple with similar results; 
 and for the course of two years, ()[)erated on many more, 
 some of whom proved refractory. But being onee pre- 
 possessed witli his faith, such failures did not depress 
 his courage ; and, by degrees, he resolved all siKdi cases 
 into unsuitable tempers, or prcvious attachment. EU- 
 
 / 
 
9i VALSIXORE. 
 
 therto however, he had tried only on tlic youni:^ and sus- 
 ceptible. To ascertain the extent of his power, he deem- 
 ed it necessary to associate in his mind two individuals 
 of another class. There lived in the vilhige a carrier, 
 whose name of Nicholas was familiarly abbjwiated into 
 Nick. He was a tall lank fii^urej reniarkahle for no- 
 thing* but his care and tacitnrnity; he trudged twice a 
 week to the noighbourittg town, at the side of a little 
 light cart, drawn by a single ass. He had buried his 
 wile, and api)eared not to think of another, indeed, ho 
 never wasted time in unprofitable discourse, even to hia 
 customers : and day after day jog^^^d on, scarci'ly open- 
 ing his lips, except to admonish his dog, or rebuke hi» 
 ass. 
 
 In Mrs. Mapletoft's household, was a tall elderly dam- 
 sel, so staid and circumspect, that slic was treated with 
 the deference d;ie to a matron. Aleck, being persuaded, 
 that these two people would harmonize together, thoogjit 
 of them intensely ; and even at ctuireh kept looking 
 from Nick to Betty, by which unsuspected manoeuvre, 
 ho really caused them to look at each other. Whether 
 Betty mused on this extraordinary symptom of attention 
 in Nick is not knov,'n ; but the next day she was sent 
 to the carrier, by Mrs. Winifred, with a small parcel, 
 to which she attaclied some importance. The damsel 
 found him too hoarse to speak : she reported his case to 
 the kind-hearted d.';ctress, who immediately sent a bot- 
 tle of elder wine and a posset by the same messenger ; 
 various other frien()ly offices succeeded; and Aleck, 
 who had devoted himself to tlie object with unremitted 
 ardor, had at length the satisfaction to see them united ;. 
 and often, on passing their snug little cottage, which 
 had been neatly furnished by Mis. Winifred, and by 
 Betty's care was rendered iight and tidy, he secretly fe- 
 licitated himself on having been the unknown and un- 
 susp- "ted agent of their mutual satisfaction and tran^ 
 quilit}. Tills last effort was so decisive, that he hasten- 
 ed to Mrs. Winifred, to whom alone he dividged his dis- 
 covery, and for whose satisfaction he now attempted to 
 explain his principles. 
 
VALS1N011£. ^i 
 
 Tooxj)Iain to another what he knows, or fancies that 
 lie knows, is always a severe cftort to the visionary, who 
 iiistincliyely shelters the otlspring of his hrain in quiet 
 ohscurity. 
 
 Fortunately for Aleck, the person selected for his con- 
 fidence, opposed no slartlinia; objeeti'ns to his darling 
 system, of wliich she did not conijjri bend the iiiijiort. 
 Fortunately too, he liad learnt to invi st his ideas with 
 a di5j;nihed nonjenclatiire, whicli niateiially scftened their 
 absurdily. In imitation of many other ori.s^inal think- 
 ers, \w env<'l<>ped liis meaninj^ in a ])oinpoiis scientific 
 phraseolo,a;> . and talked of the lever of tlie hrart, and 
 the momentum of an impression : he talked of cogent, 
 and passive ai^ency ; the cqtiilibrium and the harmony 
 of the affections. With tliese maj^nificent analot^ies, 
 liCvScemed to iiave raised a substratum for his s^st* m, 
 and in pronouncing certain words, he was himself as- 
 to)iish< <1 at liis own fluency. 
 
 Mj'h. ^^ inifred lisUtied with delight, conceiving all 
 he meant to eonimunieate to refer to some spiritual mis- 
 sion ; and with hcnust pride, told him she always thought 
 he woiihl come to be somebody. 'J'iien, as froni tho 
 crabbed words be used, she coneei\'ed his operations, 
 vbate\er they n.ight be, to be attended witit painful ef- 
 forts, she wouhl lise from her seat, and bid him take 
 her easy cliair, wliilst she wf*nt to fetch sontething to 
 comfort his poor st(uiiaeii. Cheered by her kindness, 
 (foi- wl;en does kindness fail to exhilarate.) Aleck again 
 pi'opouuiled an<i c::poinded, whilst bis good old friend, 
 looking sometimes up, and SiUii* tyrtfSl.dov.n, pursued her 
 knitting, yet often si<.le a riiotunnary ghiiulf' at the 
 sp< aker ; as an old affect i'liafc'pui^, sit* Wi/ikinf^ '^^* ^ 
 plt^yf j4 puppy^or nxn'c fv.)lieksoine Mtten, gar.;lii#wig . 
 ro;;jui itflffiwu tali, fb' ii qiri<«tJy siiMits hi^eyes. and drops 
 hih w!!isk;M'g#yct', btill purrine^^ fomlyorfiiinp^ftoHf-^ 
 ♦pbcjiney. , 4^ 
 
 #-41i tiie mitfst o^*j^eck*s ahstvacti||fis Slie wo»4.d rhice 
 her hand '>n bis n^ref < ad, atffl turn back his hair, ^1^ 
 «in<:ojh ^ igain^ AV!tht>vt causing eitl:''r ('.isturbacee^iP^ 
 displeasure 5 soineUftiei delighted with the sound othis 
 
 L i..,'\iui. 
 
'I 
 
 96 
 
 vaxsinore; 
 
 voice, she moved licr lips after liis ; but alas ! those 
 Iiard words were not to be iiiticulated by ber lecble or- 
 gans, and slie niiiitteied mob ior mobile, and mum for mo- 
 Qiientum. Tbe lever she constantly perverted to tho 
 cleaver, not without shiiddering attlie involuntary asso- 
 ciation. But his dirine harmony she was [deased to 
 hear, audit scenud to do ber heart good to pronounce it 
 after him. Sometimes as she gazed on Aleck, wonder- 
 ing what his fate should be, and whether be would be 
 recompenced for his exertions in behalf of his fellow- 
 creatures, a tear dropt on her knitting needle, and as 
 she softly Miped it away, she sighed *• God bless thee," 
 It was a scene at once tender and ludicrous. The bc- 
 nev(lent HalUr would have raised his eyes to heaven, 
 and scci'etly rejoiced tiiat the human heart was so richly 
 furnislied with sympathies, supplying the place of intel- 
 ligence : and that the simple and the wise, the illiterate 
 and rli'" !carnp<i, could intercliange kind confiding affec- 
 tion, and amicably consort together. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING Aleck^s rcserre, and Mrs,| 
 
 f Vv^inififMj's discretion, it was rumoured in the village 
 
 that heposs'sscd Qjjct'>in occult powers. As a seventh 
 
 eon Iie'^i^as aheadyvkiitb d to some i-everence : and, 
 
 ^ from thc'gii^ .d of l^J^staUlwIsment in Mr. Mapletoft's 
 
 f'^IJ^jiiiy, iPnV fy^T^ntHM^i s dicited to furnish anuiiUits 
 
 '' faPT(;e ho(»]);Mg-chu£!i and,^igae. ^^^^'^MiWcSuj^^imhr 
 
 \^«^>o?^i;jorw6^iimjk^)icautj)%(^^ given t^o the 7ki;'rried par 
 • — ^. s, X ^as wn^ljuefed, tloit herj^ojrldon^k-C ik>!^de fl^ 
 '- ^\^J >^""V'?^'^:«i*'^dra^Sjj^ induce s 
 
 -'l|^'>^'''/*^''^Ji^''d cwre cither' eolds or fevci'S without uiedi 
 V cTSi^ i hMfiltle ho^ g wer^ sUewee^-^-IlVi afS^^^.c^' X^a 
 
 -^- iiieir.motIl€^ji8 ofteh stiikdS£eirH3Ss^urs^Yith his name'. 
 
VALSIXOKE. 97 
 
 Some of lliese riimoi*8 had reached tlic domestics in Val- 
 iancy house: and Mis. Dc Lille, who sonutinies listen- 
 ed to hei- j2;ossi|)in.£^mai(l, had been higid} amnscd with 
 the relation. The story was repeated with additions, 
 and she still laughed, but wondered what could have giv- 
 en rise to such a belief. 
 
 Sometinics, in thinUing of her .son and Miss Ronvig- 
 iiy, she heartily wished that such a power as w as attri- 
 buted to Aleek. should be lodged with motliers, to induce 
 coni])liance w ith tlieir reasonable wishes when they could 
 no longer extort obedience ; not that she gave the least 
 credit to these tales, but she w as curious to trace their 
 origin. It might, perliaps, be possible to extract front 
 this strange Aleck vsome useful hint to direct her own 
 movements ; at any rate it was a harndess and divert- 
 ing si>eculation. The idea floated in her mind, witliout 
 exciting akiy correspondent action, till after her son's 
 arrival at Beachdale : then, sceptical as she was, she 
 visited the Grajige, courteously carressed .Mrs. Winifred, 
 and by professing a wish to see Aleck puisuing somft 
 
 1 lionorable profession, obtained her complete confidence. 
 
 [At first, she could with difficidty refrain from laughing; 
 
 [but when Mrs. Winified called in Aleck, and desired 
 him to impart his knowledge ; he spoke witli sucii ])romp- 
 titude and confidence, avowed liis owti convictions w itii 
 such unpi-emeditatcd energy, aiul so veiled their absurd- 
 ity by schidastic or philosopliieal language, that jMrs. 
 De Lille found herself utterly confmnuhd, and instead 
 ©f smiling, w-.islostin doubt and ama/.ement. 
 
 Perceiving he had made a favorabl' impression on his 
 auditress, he launched forth with unusual energy ; »•' It 
 is nothing occult or strange : it is \\hat v\n'\ where 
 takes place. Kvery one possesses the faculties for this 
 ineiitnl operation ; every one is unconsciously accustom- 
 ed to ( mploy it." * ! 
 
 •' Sir." said Mrs. De Lille, »« do you mean to say 
 «iicli power as yoiir's can be acquired at w ill ?" 
 
 ♦* I do, Marhim. My secret is merely tittnition and 
 obdraction* You have only to think intensely of certain 
 
 1 
 
 /^C 
 
 '.4 
 
96 VALSINOUE. 
 
 persons, purelijfor their sdkCf without any calculations of 
 interest, any impsilses o^passion.'* 
 
 " Well, Sir, and shall I thus compel them to think di 
 each other ?" 
 
 " If thire he notlung imcompatihlc m their tempers, 
 «o previous prepossession, you will ; — he assured, Mad- 
 am, the thing happens every day, without our suspect- 
 ing it." 
 
 Ilere Mrs. De Lille very gravely asked, if he really 
 could name any particular instance in which this influ- 
 ence had produced an union. Aleck smiled at the 
 question, arose, went up stairs, and presently returned 
 Avith a book, in which he liad entered the names, and 
 detailed the progi'css, of every individual on whom he 
 had operated. In facts tliere is always something that 
 imposes respect. Mrs. De Lille was staggered, and it 
 immediately occurred to her that the real object of De 
 Lille's recent attentions at the (Grange, was to engage 
 Aleck's assistance in creating an attachment between licr 
 son and Cordelid ; slie sickened at tlie surmise, and 
 even went again to ascertain if it was just. 
 
 Aleck never mentioned her husband, and slio was r»t 
 length persuaded her conjecture was unfownde;! ; but. in 
 the course of her conferences with tlie Vincrnanjf she 
 so often thought Ids syst; m desira'de that slie began to 
 think it feasible ; she was too sensible to ridicule to 
 commit herself on such a subject, and therefore caret'id- 
 ly concealed all her newly acquir;^! kiiowledgci. But 
 ■whilst Altamont was initiating Cordelia into njathemat- 
 ical truths, she was endeavoring to initiate Iiersvlf into 
 Aleck's subtleness, secretly resf.ivingnot to trust btit to 
 nse him ; to attend to his hints ; to cdlcet all Iiis ide;is; 
 and, if possible, to operate with her own faculties in the 
 jmanner she wished. In ins instructions ho exacted two 
 things,; almost eqn;dly diliicult and repugnant to her 
 chariicter ; that she should not tiiink of hers( if, nor of 
 any other being, vith displeasure. Such abstraction as 
 tl»is was indeed difficult, if not impossible ; yet Mrs. De 
 liille iiad now so strong a motive to use s< If-restraint, 
 that, for a whole week, she was never out of temper. 
 
 =H. 
 
 
VALSIS'ORE. 99 
 
 The sight of Aleck Avas nmv rsscntial to her tranquili- 
 ty ; aiul, when she had so abnii)tly quitted tlic breakfast 
 table, she hurried to the Graiiqc, almost with as much 
 ardor as AUamont attended Cordelia to the pavilioiu 
 Tliis imposing name wiiicli had been given to an apart- 
 EHMit open to the garden, fitted up as a study, and em- 
 bellislied with the portrait of Miss Rouvigny, in 
 the. character of Flora, liad glass doors on each side, 
 tho one opening to the lawn, the other to the fiowery 
 j)arterres, which cmbaluicd the air witli d^'lieious i'ra- 
 grance. Here Cordelia presented to Altamonitl'.e manu- 
 script, precisely as she had received it from Ualler. 
 Altamnnt (ibserved, at the commencement of tlic first 
 page, these words, '• A legend lor njy children." Tho 
 writing was licrfectly distinct: Coidelia took out her 
 svojk, an<l he began as fijllows : 
 
 *~ *♦ 1 was born on the l)aid;s of the Shnnnon, and ca^jght 
 from my nurse the ])atriotic strains of Erin go briigh, 
 I was proud to trace my descent to a line of heroes, 
 though conscious that, by inheriting the ancient faith of 
 my fathers, I was for ever excluded frojn the best and 
 dearest privileges of a Briton. 
 
 ** At the moment of my birth, the son of a Catholic, 
 by pr(»fessing the Protestant faifh, acquired a discre- 
 tionary power over his fath'n-'s property, and usurped 
 , from his non-conforming bi'othc rs the rights of primo- 
 geniture. It happened, tliat one of niy father's broth- 
 <^rs thought proper, by viituc of this law, to engrops an 
 estate, which, in the established oider, shoidd haAC been 
 divided e(|aally in the family. "J'lic bas< ness of our 
 unworthy kinsman was imprinted on my infant n.ind, 
 and with it an invctera,tc pi-ejudice to the heresy he had 
 embraced. 
 
 " These sentiments were nui'turcd by (education ,* for, 
 as among other vexations restrictions, no Catholic was 
 permitted to exercise the functi(»ns of atutor, I was sent 
 to a foreign university, where I imbibed, from the class- 
 ics, an im]nissir)ned enthusiasm for the name of liberty, 
 I became loyally devoted to the house of Stuait, whom 
 1 had been taught to consider as the only true reprc- 
 
 I i 
 
 LlL 
 
 r!A 
 
100 VALSINOKE. 
 
 sentativcs of our nationfil sovereigns. To explain tliis 
 contradiction, it should be recollected that, as an Irish- 
 man and a Catholic, I belonged to a degraded class of 
 citizens; and that from experience and prejudice, 1 at- 
 tributed all the evils of which I had cause to complain, to 
 the intrusion of a foreign dynasty. 
 
 ** At Rome I became intimate with the exiled princes, 
 to whose cause I was attached. I was admitted to their 
 familiar society, and once, in a moment of sympathy 
 and confidence, tendered to them, w henever they should 
 be pleased to claim it, my fidelity and allegiance. 
 
 <* During my residence at Rome, I was united in 
 brotherly friendship with a young Englishman of my 
 own persuasion, whose sister bad lately j)rofcssed her 
 scruples to our communion, and avowed her preference 
 of the reforuicd faitii. 
 
 *•' My friend Albert, deeply lamenting her apostacy, 
 repeatedly employed liis pen to combat her new princi- 
 ples, and sometimes engaged my clandestine assistance 
 in tiie correspondence. In return for such petty servi- 
 ces, he communicated to me her letters, which were 
 sometimes unavoidably on the same subject. In her re- 
 plies to his arguments, she often discovered powers of 
 reasoning wliich extoi'ted our admiration. It was im- 
 possible not to be charmed with tlie eloquence of her 
 style, the energy and iutiepidily of her seiitimcnts, 
 
 ** But I was, at this ])criod, too muc!> the slave of 
 pvejudice, to relish in an individual of iier sex such 
 proofs of mental inde|)endonce ; and when Albert once 
 intimated a wish that it might be my fate to reclaim her 
 to the primitive faith, and to receive her hand as tiie seal 
 of her conversion, I secretly revolted at the suggestion ; 
 and, though assured tliat she was young and lovely, still 
 imagined for her a masculine form, and a harsh, repul- 
 sive aspect. 1 hadj however, a strong curiosity to see so 
 extraordinary a female, and, at parting from Albert, 
 promised to visit him at his uncle's seat (where he resi- 
 ded with his sister,) as soon as I had seen my father, 
 who, from cares and moi'tifications, was prcmaUirely 
 ^^iriking to t\\t s^r^yc^ 
 
VALSINORE. 
 
 101 
 
 « I rpturiicd, then, to the dear native country whicli 
 a l()nj»' scas.)U of c.straii,i;Tnioiit had not banislicd from 
 remembrance ; but I itch ivod no joyful welcome. From 
 the period of mv uncle's tisiirpation, a soliism had pre- 
 Yailed in our family. My elder brother had been a ])ro- 
 digal, and my father, overwhelnied witii cha{;rin ami 
 disappointment, was about to make a V(iya!;e to Lisbon 
 for his health, attended only by my sister, who- had lonti; 
 aspired to the reli.^ioiis vocation. The monuntof meet- 
 ing was almost inunediatcly saddened by that of part- 
 in. g ; and for what purpt)se was I returned? The curse 
 of banishment still pursued my steps. In this our belo- 
 ved country, 1 was an alien rather than a citizen : I 
 foinnl no occupation for talents, no scope for antbition ; 
 .wherever I turned, some invidious cause of prosciiption 
 opposed my pro,e;ress: to whatever I as])ircd. jealousy 
 or suspicion stiginatized the clFort and intercepted the 
 reeom pence. 
 
 ♦» The love of fame, that noblest impulse of the youth- 
 ful mind, that active spirit wiiich \ ivifus patriotism, and 
 scatters through a [Vee peoj)le the germs of every gener- 
 ous aiid heroic sentiment, in me was but a self-aunisin,aj 
 passion, fatal to my owli peace, and l)Oonless to the 
 community. It was little to be excluded irom power 
 and privilege : 1 w"a.s debarred fiom hope : I v,as not 
 allowed to participate in tuitional gloi-y. The oblation 
 I would have offered was i-ejected ; I was like a stran- 
 ger in the land of my fatlr.M's ; I had no access to the 
 temple of honor, and was ulmost robbed of life in being 
 condemned to obscm'itv . 
 
 " Under such circinnstances, T determined to en- 
 gage in the Austrian service, in which foreigners often 
 rose to eminence and distinction. 
 
 ♦< Un leaving Ireland I did not forg' t my frietid Al- 
 bert, who had reminded me of my promised visit, and 
 was earnest in his entreaties to ]n'event lay final expa- 
 triation. 1 determined to pass some lime at his uncle's 
 seat, and from thence to proceed on my foreign career. 
 Having taken a silent farewell of the nninsion in whicli 
 I received, my biitii; I commenced my solitary journey :.- 
 
 I 3 / 
 
 >1 
 
102 VALSINORE. 
 
 indulging a sort of mental intoxication, on which I can- 
 not now reflect without astonisliinent. The painful cir- 
 cumstances in \Yliicii 1 hail been lately placed no h)nger 
 operated 0)1 mv mind. In imagination, J <)vcrlea]?t all 
 narrow bounds and circuinscrii)tion. 1 had a thousand 
 visions of futurity, ail viist and magnificent ; my auibi- 
 tion was pure fiom envy ; there was no pinnacle of 
 greatness, to wliich another had reached, btit my heart 
 iiad secret aspirations for some nobler pre-eminence. 
 
 Tliese splendid illusions of fancy were at length dis- 
 missed, when I arrived on the western coast of England, 
 and, happy to escape from the limitation of a vessel, 
 proceeded on foot to my friend's habitation. In retra- 
 cing this pas.sage of my life, an agitation like that of 
 youthful liope trembles through my fi-ame. The most 
 minute circumstances arc i-ccallcd with the vivid sensa- 
 tions of the moment, for of that delicious evening not one 
 emotion is lost ; not a look escaped ; nor is one word, 
 ene thought forgotten. 
 
 *< It was twilight when I approached ihe house, and 
 though unable to discern a single feature of tiie landscape, 
 1 had a general impression of its beauty. Tiie vernal 
 fragrance in the air ; the luxliriant foliage interposing 
 its grateful gloom ; the mingling shadows of hills and 
 dales, contrasted with the blue horizon ; the dashing ofH 
 a cataract, heard only in intervals of silence, when ru- 
 ral sounds, and all the little nameless notices of human 
 neighborliood were suspended : all these conspired 
 to create a picture for the eye, and to give a foretaste 
 of future enjoyment. 
 
 The house had once been a priory, and was still ap- 
 proached by along avenue planted with elm trees, which, 
 still gave it a religious aspect. I was here kindly greet- 
 ed by Albert, who had been watching my arrival, and 
 who, perhaps to i)rolong the first precious mometits of 
 confidence, conducted me by a circuitous route through* 
 the garden to the house. The room into which he ush- 
 ered me w as lofty and spacious. I perceived at one of 
 the Venetian windows a female figure, not one feature of 
 
 fvbosQ face was now (Usc«mbk. gUe was imstautljr wr, 
 
VALSIJTORB. 1(^3 
 
 ijoiinccd by my friend as his sister ; the Susanna, with 
 vIiosLi mind I fancied myself so well acqmiinted, but who 
 welcomed me with so sweet «iid fianlc a voice, as at 
 once disarmed nic of half my prejudice. When she left 
 the room to ajive orders i'nv my reception I perceived a 
 sort of glooniv void ; when she returned ami renewed 
 the attentions due to her hrotlier's friend, joined in tho 
 conversation, >\itli tliat modest frankness, tbat charm- 
 ins; spontaneous (;oiirtesy, which belon2;s to iini(»cencc, 
 I forgot wlu're 1 was ; 1 h_ad no faculties for any other 
 object. Yet, m liilst my eyes followed her gi-aceiid mo- 
 tions, and 1 listened almost w ilh devotion to her encliant- 
 ing accents, 1 wished to jn'olong the obscurity by which 
 she was half concealed, with an avaricious love of plea- 
 sure. I almost feared to see her face, lest it shouhl not 
 harmonize with the image already traced by fancy. But 
 the apprehension was unfounded ; her countenance re- 
 vealed the loveliness of her character ; her fine featju'cs 
 were alw ays lighted up w ith intelligence and sensibility ; 
 but at times there was in her eyes an emanation of soul, 
 ! a look, an expression, all unearthly : not the transient 
 lustre of youth, but the bright refulgence of immortidity. 
 ♦♦ I retired w arm with admiration ; and by a st?*ange 
 contradieti<m, 1 found the very qualities by w hich I had 
 ^previously been repelled, among tlie most powerful and 
 irresistible of her attractions. That a woman, so young 
 and so gentle, should have been capable of such energy 
 and intrepidity ; that she, who seemed from her delica- 
 cy and softness, formed for love n!one, shoidd have da- 
 red, from princii»le. to brave the reproofs, or, what 
 was more, the atfeetionate persecution of her famih .— • 
 it was this paradox in character that at once touched 
 and subdued my soul : it was for Susanna alone to re- 
 concile such contradictions : there could be no second 
 Susanna in the universe ! • 
 
 *♦ Yet with all my enthusiasm, I sighed for her apos- 
 tacy; and, with a lover's zeal, deternnned to attenipt 
 her conversion. It was on a delicious morning, and du- 
 ring a rural excursion wliich had been j)lanned f.r flie 
 pui'pose, that 1 entered on my aiduoiis task. The iuob* 
 
 1^ 
 
1! 
 
 toil VALSINORE. 
 
 voliii)tiious odour embalmeil tlie air, the birds were sing- 
 ing- around lis, and the sonj^s of the merry rustics re- 
 sounded on every side. >,\ver wiis there such a scene 
 for polemical discussion, and never was tlicre so lovely a 
 disputant. But h(Av was 1 astonisl)cd t'» discover, un- 
 der her Si;entle, modest, unobtrusive simplicity, the most 
 comprehensive p'iw;^'rs of understandin.s;, enforced by 
 tise most touchin.j^, artless, all-p'-rsuasive eloquence. 
 Insicad of reformin.K; hei- faith, 1 endangered my own : 
 Ijcr answers cxcit d doubts never before admitted to my 
 mind : for the first time, 1 leai-nt to distrust the impo- 
 sing name of authority : love bad given a lesson of can- 
 dor, an<l I suon became so liberal in my concessions, that 
 Susanna would say, with a smile, I was more than half 
 a heretic. But our social hours were n!>t confined to 
 such subjects. Tiie delights of licr society ^^erc inex- 
 haustible; her judgment was so prontpt, her taste so 
 exquisite, hei' impressions so vivid, — and yet so dcej/, 
 so lively, and still so p?rtnanent : her sympcsUucs were 
 so widely diffusive, her principles so pure, her benevo- 
 lence >so expanded, she inspired virtue by her bold con- 
 viction of its existence. All her ideas were of sponta- 
 neous growth, and she scattered them with fi'ank and 
 guileless simplicity, unconsciously cnriciiing every sub- 
 ject on wliich she toucli d. 
 
 ** Several months passed in tliis delightful intercourse, 
 in which, without ever mentioning love, we mutually 
 demonstrated affectioii. My intended travels were sus-ji 
 pended, or rather forgotten. 1 became more ardently|l 
 attached to liberty for Susanna's sake: she inftised into 
 me a new soul : the mist of prejudice dispersed from my 
 eyes : the leaden weight of bigotry was removed from 
 my heart. 
 
 *' Albert bad at first obsoi'ved our friendship with 
 • pleasure; an»l he again inlimated, that if Susanna's con- 
 vei'sion w as effected, the disparity of fortune on my part 
 Would form no objection with his uncle, on whom he and 
 his sister were equally <lepende)it. But I was no longer 
 anxious to aecf>mplisli tliis object : and I was too inge- 
 nuous to disguise the change in my scntiiueuts. fVom 
 
VALSTNORB. 105 
 
 hat moment, my friend assumed a different aspect. I 
 ,was Ijtgiiinin.s; to perceive the <'Strant;emcnt, wlien, fa- 
 tally for me, the Fi-etcnder made his loni^ meditated in- 
 vasion, and recalled my former pledge of scivice and 
 fidelity, 'riionii^h far fnun liavinpj ac((uii'ed Just concep- 
 tions of tlie Knglish constitution, I had insenHibiy cor- 
 rected many of my foimer eirors, and was no lon,ij;er 
 abstird enough to conceive, that the welfare and pros- 
 perity of those powerfid realins should he hazarded, for 
 the sake of one unfortunate, hut imprudent fauiily. Yet 
 a pronjise was so sacred an obligation : to desert a fi-iend 
 in the monuiit of difficulty and danger, implied such 
 dereliction of principle, sucii baseness of sentiment, tliat 
 1 could not dcci(U' to cancel the engagement. Albert, 
 thoiigh he blamed my former infatuation, now not un- 
 willing to see mc separated from his sister, pronounced 
 my eitgagement irrevocable by the laws of honor ; and, 
 by my romantic mind, the laws of honor were omnipo- 
 tent. I could conceive no degradation so dreadfid as the 
 consciousness of deliberate tivaehery, and pusillanimous 
 desertion. Rashly, therefore, I engaged in an enter- 
 prise, from its first movement dcvote<l to destruction ; 
 madly tore myself from Susamia, though 1 witnessed 
 iier silent anguish, and discovered, even in her averted 
 eyes, the assurances of tenderness and affection. 
 
 " I pass rapidly over this act of folly, on wliich I 
 ciinnot now v. itii ])atie!iee ivflect. The fate of the ex- 
 pedition was soon decided ; and foi' myself, I had ha- 
 zarded and lost all for honor. I was kno\vr« in the 
 eariip by a Scotch name, which I had assumed from mo- 
 tives of tenderness to my family, wisom [ was unwilling^ 
 to involve in the consequences of my temerity. Under 
 this fictitious title n«y person was minutely described, 
 :uk1 a reward offered for my apprehension. Various 
 were the stratagcnr. I employed to elude discovery and 
 pursuit; not for the sake of piolonging life, since I 
 twice rejected the ojjportunity of» escaping to France; 
 but with the hope of once more seeing: rny Susanna, whose 
 image, supreme in loveliness and tiutli, still threw a 
 gkam of niomeutary bliss over my wretched existence. 
 
106 VALSIXORE. 
 
 Animatofl by lliis object, I encountered perils and bard- 
 ships innumerable, till finally I arrived within a few 
 miles of the spot where I had first knowii her. At this 
 distance from the .scene of hostility, I conceived myself 
 safe, or ratiier had no further inducements for consult- 
 inj^ safety ; I tliercfure discarded the dis.^uise in wliich I 
 had performed the last part of my journey, and eagerly 
 proceeded ; not with liie dejected aspect of an outlawed 
 m;in, but i-ather with the ardour of the bappy lover, wiio 
 desi'iics the goal of hope, and already anticipates the 
 rapturous v/clcoa:e. I approaclied ti:c niansion, and 
 tliougli no longer greeted in the avenue, i almost me- 
 chanically struck into the same path by which Albert 
 had led me to the garden ,• and without seeing a servant, 
 or other human beiug, pi-oceod-^d as before to the room 
 in which I had fiist beiudil Siisanna, when I found it 
 blank and empty. A sudden fear chilled my Iicart. I 
 shoidd have concluded the house to be desolate, had I 
 not beard fi'om an adjoining apartment, two voices in 
 angry altercation. M} own name was pronounced with 
 churlish imi)atience ; 1 scarcely attended to the import 
 of tlie words, so intense was my stdicitiule for Susanna.- 
 As I listened, [ heard an outer door recoil with violence; 
 tbei'e was t lien a pause of sil'Miee, in which I had no 
 power to move. A c juvnlsive tremor shook my wiiolc 
 frame. I dreaded to hear that Susanna no longer exist- 
 ed. At this moment I was startled by a sigb, so deep, 
 so plaintive, tbat it might have touciied the most obdu- . 
 rate heaii:, but to mine it was the blessc^d harbinger of 
 joy, for Susanna S]joke with her own dellghtfiil voice. 
 
 " * Oh brother, how can you change from so warm 
 a fi'iend, to so bitter a foe ?' 
 
 *' * 1 loved him, till I'.e betrayed my confidence ; and, 
 with base by])ocrisy, under the pretext of restoring your 
 faitii, inveigled your affections.' 
 
 *' < Coriieliiis is incapable of hypocrisy : how can 
 yon be so suspicious^' 
 
 " ' How ean you, Susanna, be so credulous ? Think 
 not he w ill be constant in love : this apostate from hisi 
 eluirchj this hypocrite who deluded yoiir brother j this 
 
YAiSIXORE. 10^ 
 
 ooward wlio conceals liis name ; this traitor, wlio has 
 cojitrivcd to niiikc his i sc;i])o, in sonic pitiful disguise, 
 uilhiot lonj^- Uiink. oi tlic gill, who would sacrifice for 
 him the honor other faniil v.' 
 
 " I coidd liold no lon^rr, but transported at once with 
 love and indignation, ruslicd into the room. < No,* cri- 
 ed I, * I assume in) disguise. 1 attempt not to escape. 
 Take my liiV. Satisi';> vour revenge.' 
 
 " Susanna, who was at fust motionless with aston- 
 ishment, now, tlirovNinghrrselt* between us, exclaimed, 
 < Oil, my friend, my biotiier.' 
 
 " Alliert haughtily replied, < Fear not, Susanna, that 
 I shall sally ni\ sword with liis blood ; but he is a rebel 
 publicly piochiiined, and were my uncle present, he 
 woidd delivoi* bim to Justice.* 
 
 " * Impossible,' cried Susanna ; * he could not be so 
 cru^].- 
 
 *» H'nv, girl, would you sacrifice all your family to 
 this apoatato ? Are you not aware, that it would be at 
 ourpnil to harbor him.' 
 
 *' < Heaven forbid.' cried I, * that any shoidd suffer 
 for my iwiwerihy sake. I came but to take one last and 
 <'>ei"!i<sting look J and now let me go hence, no matter 
 Wuithor.* ' 
 
 " Nov, first feolirg the loss of strength, I staggered 
 towards (lie (!o;»v ; a iiiist gathered before my eyes, as I 
 strained them to gaze, on my Susanna. iVrrif'cd by 
 my pale eountcnaiM/r. she caught my arm, and ^itb gi n- 
 tlo vi<,!r nee, coiapdled me tv» be seated, AlbOrt hinisi Sf, 
 fi.>»r. ail invohtntarx impidseef jiity, brought a ciiiifil, 
 wide'' bis sister prr s<'nn\« tonn^ lips : at that moiiK nthe 
 heaid i is inch's voice, ant' with evident alarm, exch'im- 
 ed, ♦ \> Itai shall we (io ? !o cannot be concealed. My, 
 Cornelisrs ! I would not hav< ! im saerificcd.' 
 
 •< < No,' cried I, » here would J die ; here would I ob- 
 tain my reieasv* 
 
 »« < Madman, yoa must not die beneath this roof,' cri- 
 ed he. 
 
 *♦ * Oh, my brother,' cried vS i(-arna ; "goto my un- 
 cle, prcveiit liis entrance, whilst i assist him to csgape.* 
 
 jin^. 
 
 L 
 
168 VAXSINOHE. 
 
 « He instantly obeyed ,• and Susanna, openini^ a ,a:lass 
 ilooi* wliicli coMinniMicated will) tltc i;ariien. coiulueted 
 me h\ a covei'e«l waiU to a gjotto, through which was a 
 subteiianeoiis passage to the Park, which o])ened to 
 the country. Here hiddin"' tne remain, till she should 
 send her nurse, a trusty old domestic, to convey me to 
 a secure retreat, she hastened back totlieliouse to pre- 
 vent suspicion, and to watch over njy safety. In about 
 lialf anhour, her faithful agent aniv^Ml, and having fur- 
 nislied me with the disguise of a ph>ughman's frock, con- 
 ducted me by the subterraneous route to an old ruinous 
 edifice excavated from a cliflT; wiiich, l»eing supposed to 
 be liaunted, was a place of impregnable security. Here 
 she usheiT.d mc into an apartment, vvhieli, though dark 
 and dreary, was to my surprise, furnished with various 
 articles for my use. And 1 learnt from my attendant, 
 that Susanna, liaving lung expected my ari-ival, had 
 chosen this spot for my sanctuary ; she added, that her 
 uncle was soon to accompany Albert on a visit to a la- 
 dy, to whom he was to !)(^ united; and that she would 
 then see, and restore me to liberty. 
 
 '< The next day she revisited me, with new admo- 
 nitions to vigilance. 'ITiough I had happily not been 
 seen to entei'thc hous<^, my approach through tiie Park 
 was observed : and th*" pusillanimous uncle, jealous for 
 his own exculpation, bad lodged an imformation against 
 me. She a<ided. thai A i!)ert believed I w"as proceeding 
 on my Journey : and that Susanna conjured nie, fur her^ 
 sake, to submit with ])atiencc to my dreary captivity. 
 Iwas so carelrss of life, that I should scarcely liave 
 obeyed tlie in)iiucti> n : but for my ardent desire to liave 
 one nu>re iut'iviewwiih m\ beloved. I^ven with this 
 motive for oltvdi IK". I found the time int<derably tedi- 
 ous; soujctiuus my att'-ndant conveyed a book to my 
 dreary apartuierd. I had my single lamp, my solitary 
 seat ; sanctity alone was wanting, to render this a her- 
 mit's ell. ^Ty in prtiv'nce became extreme, and I was 
 tem})t' d once more to go Ixddly to the house, and extort 
 my promised n.teting. 
 
 ** One evening, when even my attendant had been for 
 
YALSINORE. 100 
 
 two days absent, a light footstep descended to my gloomy 
 apai'tnient, and smiling like a benignant ungd of jwacc 
 and liberty, I beheld my Susanna. 
 
 •* « At length,' ciiedslic, » J am come to fulfil my 
 pnmiise. My brother, fully persuaded that you aro 
 now far distant, is gone on his intended visit. With 
 the assistance ot your incomparable guide, I have pre- 
 pared every thing for your escape : your passage is ta- 
 ken in a vessel which is to sail to-morrow for Lisbon,' 
 and horses ai-e now waiting to convey you to the port** 
 At these words her countenance changed, and her voice 
 faultered, as she added, < Go then Cornelius, whilst you 
 may; and in your cruel exile sometimes remember Su- 
 sanna.' 
 
 « ' No, never,' cried I, * my life is forfeited, nor 
 shall yours be endangered by having aided my esca[)e.' 
 
 *♦ She began to use that language of entreaty, which 
 from her was almost always irresistible, « No,' cried 
 I ; * since I was infatuated enough to join the standard 
 of rebellion against the country in which you received 
 your birth, let the folly be expiated with my blood. I 
 should not shrink from common calamities ; neithej* po- 
 verty nor persecution would shake my fortitude ; but to 
 have a gulph placed between me and happiness, n< ver 
 to return — never to hope for your recompensing love ; 
 such a separation as this is despair. When 1 so part 
 from thee, welcome death, for life is over.' 
 
 ** Here she hesitatrd — she cast down her eyes — * But 
 suppose the case reversed, Cornelius ; suppose that I 
 were the delinquent, and, like you, an outlaw, would 
 you not make desperate efforts to redeem my life ?' 
 
 « * Susanna, you know I should not think it could 
 be purchased at too dear a price j and were I only 
 doomed to exile, you would jjerliaps consent to leave 
 your country for my sake. Susanna, I could be su- 
 premely blest with you in any i-egion ; tlie love — — .' 
 Thei-e was a short but awful pause ! She trembled— 
 she bowed down her head — her lips moved as if she la- 
 bored for utterance, aiid at lengtli, v\ith half averted 
 eyes, she said, * Cornelius !' — but in a tone so low, s* 
 
 - 
 
 k 
 
lie valsinore; 
 
 plaintive, that as she paused, she cast on me a timiil 
 i'lance, uncertain wliethcr she was understood, till, by 
 my increasing agitation, she peiceivcd that I had heaid 
 lier ; re-assured, she at length proceeded — * Cornelius ! 
 if you could do so much for me, think me not quite in- | 
 canable of the same constancy : if you could renounce 1 
 fortune, honor, fame, it is little for me to relinquish a 
 counti'y in which I have no longer connections or friends ; 
 4'roin this moment, therefore, be our destiny the same ; 
 and if you accept me, Cornelius, 1 am wholly yours." i 
 
 *« Amazement locked up my faculties, and for a mo- ^ 
 ment I was lost in rapturous entranccmcnt ; but herge- 
 neiosity recalled my sense of justice; I resistf^d her of- 
 fer ; 1 even rejected her love ; but she, who had bow 
 
 regained her native energy, continued : * It was 
 
 through me you incurred this penalty : but, for me, you 
 would have been in another country, free, prosperous, 
 and happy : you cannot banish from my mind the dread- 
 ful impression, that 1 liave caused all your misery. The 
 munificence of a friend, who died dtiring your absence, 
 has supplied me with a small sum, sufficient at least to 
 secui-e us from penury. Though feeble by nature, I 
 can learn, for your sake, to grow familiar with dan- 
 ger. Fear not my cowardice ; even now we arc almost 
 of tlie same persuasion ; let us taste the same cup of ad- 
 versity, and our communion will be perfect.' 
 
 « With such arguments Susanna prevailed: I siib- 
 jnJtted to her gtidance, and in three weeks \ve were both 
 transported to another country ; a sacred indissoluble 
 bond attesting our union, 
 
 <* We arj'ived at Lisbon in time to sec my father, who 
 frankly forgave my rashness, and bestowed on us both 
 liis paternal benedicti<m. Though evidently dying, he 
 had been |K?rsuaded to try the effects of a voyage to Ma- 
 deira, and gladly listened to our proposal of embarking 
 with him. My sister, who had at length taken the veil, 
 remained in a convent at Lisbon ; but her place was most 
 tenderly supplied by my Susanna, who, as she looked I 
 at me, seemed t(» regard my parent witli more tlian filial I 
 loyQ* Grateful for her attentions, he was eager to au^ I 
 
valsikort:. lUb 
 
 ment our litrle treasure ; but he Imd been so much im~ 
 povoi'ished by liis brother and his elder son, that lie 
 could only bestow on us t!»c little property he liad lately 
 I'eeeived iVom a relation who had died in Portugal, and 
 to secui'e winch had been one of his original motives for 
 leaving Ireland. 
 
 *< But wealtli was not wanting to us in our delicious 
 retreat, wliich was situated on the first ascent of a 
 mountain, and was indee<l an eartidy paradise. But it 
 was not long ])ei mitted to my lather to witness our feli- 
 city : he expired without pain, and his remains were 
 buried in the church which has been erected onthescita 
 of Macham's Cave, w here tradition has placed his An- 
 na's tomb.* 
 
 (Here Aliamont found a sudden break in the manu- 
 script; the character appeared somewhat changed, the 
 style still more altered at the recommencement.) 
 
 " And this is Madeira still, the same island to which 
 I bore her, and I am at this niomentwitiiin view of that 
 spot which contained our earthly paradise. It was here 
 that, day after day, we contetnplated the same beautiful 
 scenes, and found our admiration constantly renewed. 
 We breatiied in an air soft and delicious as our mutual 
 love, find friendly to all. Tiie feverish dreams of am- 
 bition vanished from my mind. I was reconciled to the 
 loss of glory, since it was replaced by truth, nature, and 
 Susatma. Oui* quiet pursuits, our simple recreations, 
 were all heightened by emiearing sympathy : even our 
 cares wei'c converted to jdeastires, by forming between 
 us an augmeni<Hl bond of union. So perfectly did we. 
 now harmonize, that I had a tender com])unction in 
 witnessing any superstitious rites and observances which 
 might oflend my beloved ; whilst she, for my sake, by 
 degrees regarded, with somewhat of reverential compla- 
 cency, the errors we now equally disclaimed. 
 
 * Macham is supposed to have discovered the island in 
 the 14^11* century. He had conveyed to it his mistress, who 
 died of fatigue. The tale has been too ofttn told to require 
 repetition. 
 
 K2! 
 
112 VAXSINORE. 
 
 " We liad acquired a peculiar taste for happiness— 
 a subtle and mysterious faculty of enjoyment. Our fe- 
 licity rci)oscd on integrity, confidence, and truth. With 
 what delight did she listen wiien I expressed a generous 
 sentiment ! How refulgent were her eyes, when I eon- 
 firmed it by an action of kindness and benevolence ! To 
 such bliss there was but one alloy, the fatal anticipation 
 of its close. 
 
 It was from this rock, where I am now sitting, under 
 the shade of a branched palm, which was then but be- 
 ginning to shoot from its slender stalk ; it was from 
 this spot that I pointed out to my beloved the dale be- 
 side the church, where tradition has placed Macham's 
 and his Anna's gi-ave. How bitterly did we lament their 
 fate ; how gratefully contrast it with our own ; how ten- 
 derly we wept for their sorrows, as if they were still 
 conscious to love or pity. < And yet,' cried Susanna, 
 * it is a consolation to reflect, that one did not long sur- 
 vive the other.' The same sentiment was on my lips, 
 and at the same moment an agonizing pang of separati- 
 on chilled our hearts. Neither of us spoke, but the im- 
 age of death rose to our eyes ; and, as Susanna sunk 
 in my arms, we wept together. 
 
 «* * But we are immortal,' I at length said. * Yes,* 
 rejoined she, with her wonted energy, < God will not 
 suffer two sucli hearts to be smidered forever.' And is 
 it really on tliis spot that 1 have tasted of happiness ? 
 By what strange mysterious process am I tlnis changed, 
 that I can )io hjnger pay any tender tribute to the mem- 
 ory of her who formed my supreme good. 1, who could 
 so fi-eely weep for the sorrows of unknown, perhaps ide- 
 al, beings, have no longer a tear, to give my own. My 
 heart is dried up. The iron has entered into my soul, 
 and it is benumbed forever. I may give alms in chari- 
 ty ; I may even speak words of comfort to the afflicted ; 
 hut I am no longer touched witii distress; I am grown 
 familiar to the contemplation of evil ; I no longer desire 
 good ,• here am I, wretched and desolate. Wliat a drea- 
 ry ruin, what a dark sepulchre is my bosom ! I am so 
 bereaved of hope, I have no new forfeiture to make to 
 
VAXSlNOUte. 113 
 
 disappointment. It cannot be that I have ceased to 
 love; since, even in writing her name, the warm life- 
 blood rushes to my heart. Slie is never absent from my 
 thoughts; but I am banished from her presence. The 
 sweet image no longer visits ?ny dreams ; I cannot bring 
 her before my mind's eye ; t!ie features are ever vanish- 
 ing ; the shadowy form dissolves away. 1 have a con- 
 viction tliat shi' lives ; yet for me, methijiks. she no 
 more exists. My faith is immutable, but hope is gone. 
 I am so estranged from Joy, I catniot imagine any thing 
 fair or lovely. I know that I must live h( reafler, but 
 the aspirations for felicity arc departed frouj me. I am 
 ready to say, • And wi»o shall shew me any good ?' l 
 began these memoirs for n»y children. I fondly antici - 
 pated the moment when I should present them with this 
 picture of their incomparable mother ,• but now for whom 
 should I write oi* speak ; there is no human being who 
 can commune with me on the only tht nie that could givo 
 solace to my heart. That chureli, tliis rock, this pahn, 
 arc the only objects tliat speak to me of Susanna." 
 
 Altamont had proceeded thus far, wlien his voice, 
 long faltering from etnotion, totally failed him. Cor- 
 delia was equally touched ; asluimed of her tears, una- 
 ble to restrain them, she reclined her head on her hand, 
 concealing her eyes that they might not too sti or.gly be- 
 tray her feelings. ** We will read no more now,*' said 
 she, softly, perceiving the manuscript was not finished ; 
 ** it is too much." «< And yet Cordelia," cried Alta- 
 mont, looking at her with newly inspired hope, " they 
 were the happiest njjon earth." A sigh escaped her ; he 
 took her hand, but was alarmed by its icy coldness. S!i& 
 assiu'ed him she was well, but her looks contradicted 
 the assertion. Altamont bent over her with mingled an- 
 guish and delight; his soul hovered on his lips; he had 
 no longer any power to suppress tlie communication ; 
 but at this moment, when, all impassioned, he had for-- 
 gotten every thing but one object. Cf)rdelia suddenly 
 "Withdrew her hand, started from her seat, sprung to the 
 door opening to the lawn, and, without a word or look, 
 basteued towards the house with the utmost precipitati- 
 
 K3 
 
114 VALSINOBE. 
 
 on. Altaniont gazed in astonislimcnt, uncertain whe- 
 ther to attribute her flight to terror or rcsentnient ; but 
 he saw not the real cause of her disturbance, which was 
 1)0 other than the appearance of Sir Frederic Mowbray; 
 vho, at the moment of this ini.seasonabic interruption, 
 was approaching from the garden to tiie pavilion. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 WHILST Cordelia retires in terror and confiision, and 
 Altajnont reflects with chagrin inexpressible on hei* pre- 
 cipitate i-etreat; Sir Frederic Mowbray realizes all the 
 chimeras which had ever liaunted his diseased imagina- 
 tion. Till this moment, he had not suspected the ex- 
 change of names adopted by the two young men he had 
 met in Flanders, when he was himself travelling under 
 the assumed title of Baron Cromek. Mrs. De Lille 
 had, in tlie first transports of congratulation, confessed 
 her son was not at Bcachdale ; and Sir Frederic, exhil- 
 crated by the intelligence, quitted the ladies (among 
 \A horn was Mrs. Rivers, the late c/wpcron of Miss Rou- 
 Tigny,) and passing through the garden, ostensibly to 
 proceed to the abbey, indulging the hope of surprising 
 Cordelia in lier favorite retreat. At the same moment 
 that she perceived his approach, he was himself appal- 
 led by the glimpse of a line martial form, in which he 
 easily recollected the young man he had seen in Flanders 
 as Valiancy. 
 
 His first impulse was to turn from an object that caus- 
 ed him so much pain, and he hastily struck intoasliady 
 path, to conceal his agitation ; but he soon determined 
 to confront this real or supposed rival, and again ap- 
 proaching the pavilion, found it empty. Not only was 
 Cordelia flown ; Altamont had made his exit, taking; 
 with him the manuscript of Cornelius. Sir Frederic, 
 60 often the sport of imaginary terror, now obstinately 
 
TALSINORK. 11$ 
 
 Insisted the most probable evidence ; and calmed liis 
 spirit by declaring, in tlie true spirit of tyrannic love, 
 that none but himself should possess Cordelia. 
 
 HavJTig re])ressed his agitation, he returned to the 
 house, where he found Mrs. Dc Lille in almost rapturous 
 delight, at the unexpected arrival of her son ; m ho, re- 
 pining at his long separation from Altamont, had accom- 
 panied De Lille to Beacbdale. It was long since Ids 
 mol her had greeted her husband with such cordial smiles 
 of complacency. For the moment suspicion was lulled 
 asleep, and she was sufficiently com})osed and easy, to 
 have practised the difficult lessons of Aleck. To com- 
 plete her satisfaction, she now learnt, from the mutual 
 recognitions which passed between her son and Sir 
 Frederic, the history of their former meeting, and de- 
 tected in defiance of the effin-ts of Valiancy, that hep 
 iieice was really the original, recalled to his recollection 
 by the picture of Flora. Elated with this discovery, she 
 overflowed with good humor, and Altamont, on joining 
 the company, was received with unusual cordiality and 
 kindness. But Valiancy, w ho at once perceived her joy, 
 and its latent source, and who had already half discard- 
 ed tlie Jneognita from his mind, by a sudden revolution 
 of caprice, was prompted to thwart her expectations; 
 and without expi'cssing the least desire to see his cousin 
 who was closeted with Cordelia, walked out with Alta- 
 mont, pTOtesting he should no w^ never look in Adela's 
 face, witliout thinking of papers and parchments. 
 
 ** The Incognita,''^ added he, " was a charming girl, 
 to while away an hour with ; but this heiress, with all 
 her leases, always came to my fancy like a clumsy Cy- 
 bele with a tower on her head, instead of appearing a 
 nymph or a grace.*' 
 
 «* You are not romantic enough to quaiTcl with hej? 
 for being rich." 
 
 *» No, truly, if I could but forget it ; but you may ||3 
 assured, she has been taught to impute sinister motives 
 to every man who speaks to her. Injustice to myself^ 
 I oughtto treat lier with indiffi^rence j so let lis spe^iN 
 late on a tour to Ireland." 
 
 « Will you go without seeing her J'* 
 
 / 
 
116 TALSIirORJi. 
 
 *< No, no ; not so .savage neither ; I am really sorry 
 to leave tlie poor thing shut up here, witli my mother 
 and old Quintin ; and Sir Frederic not much hetter, 
 since he is already encumbered with one wife, and pre- 
 contracted to a second." Then without giving his frie»i J 
 time to reply to this remark, he started to another sub- 
 ject i " 1 forgot to tell you, I liave heard of poor Wood- 
 ville." 
 
 " And what have you heard ? why should you call him 
 poor ?" 
 
 " Because he is poor, and miserahle enough. In my 
 electioneering expedition, 1 had occasion to spend two 
 or tliree days in London, where I met with Jack Nev- 
 ers, who knew Woodville in his prosperity ; and after- 
 wards saw him in Ireland, where it seems he married a 
 gill without a penny. He has since been trying to es- 
 tablish an academy, hut failing in that, he attempted to 
 give lessons to grown gentlemen ; that scheme failed 
 likewise, and he has since accepted some insigniiieant 
 clerk's place, and occasionally translated for the mails> 
 or reported for the house." 
 
 *' But wliere was he to he found ?" 
 
 ** That V. as my own question. His residence was not 
 known, but he was to be heard of at the Chapter coffee- 
 house. I had not time to make enquiries myself, so I de- 
 sired Nevers to do it for me." 
 
 " And the result," cried Altamont impatiently. 
 
 « Ah, the result ; to tell you the honest truth, the 
 circumstance slipped out of my mind. Well, don't look 
 so disconsolately, I ha\e spoken for him to Lord Mar- 
 miton, and I will write to Jack Nevers, to find out where 
 he is ; and I will send him money." 
 
 <* You must do it with delicacy. Woodville will nev- 
 er forget himself, however he may have been furgot- 
 ten." 
 
 " Oh ! do not think he would be so ridiculous as t» 
 refuse assistance, he has been in such distress ; his wife 
 takes in plain work ; he skulks about, in dread of being 
 arretted ; and he is 60 altered Jack says, one should not 
 know him." 
 
tAlSIXORE. lir 
 
 " Ishmild*^ cried Altamonf, now recollecting the 
 person lie had past, who so sti'oni^ly resembled liim ; and 
 shuddei'ini? at the involuntary impression he had receiv- 
 ed on the iieath. 
 
 " What is the matter, Altamont? you look in des- 
 pair." 
 
 " Nothing; but I would have given any thing I 
 possess, to have had this information sooner." 
 
 " Well, well; I will write to Nevers immediately;" 
 and this time he kept his word j whilst Altamont too much 
 interested for his unfortunjite friend, to trust again ta 
 ValKancy's memory, sat by him till the letter was sealed 
 and dispatclied to the post. 
 
 In performing his task, Valiancy mentioned Nevers 
 as one of Woodvilkvs early friends, who had since dropt 
 his acquaintance, because he could not relieve his dis- 
 tress, and feared to wound his delicacy ; in reality, be- 
 cause he was too indolent to make exertions in his be- 
 half i and too proud, or ratlier perhaps, too mean, to 
 sanction any claim of intimacy, from one who could no 
 longer support the appearance o{ vi gentleman. 
 
 Altamont was indignant at the description of such a 
 friend. Had he consulted Woodville on this subject, he 
 might perhaps have learnt, that from the associates of 
 his prosperity, an unfortunate man seldom experiences 
 so great a kindness as neglect ; that calumny too com- 
 monly visits t4ie house of poverty, and drags back to in- 
 vidious remembrance, the wretch whom sorrow had dis- 
 missed to uncommiserated suffering, and unhonored ob- 
 livion. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ADELA ROUVIGNY, though older than Cordelia^ 
 possessed a more youthful aspect ; her form was suffici- 
 ently light for an Ariel, her compaction glowed with the 
 animation of a Hebe, her soft blue eyes were radiant 
 
118 VALSINOEB. 
 
 with hope and joy. The buoyancy of her spirits gave 
 a volatile rapidity to all her looks and motions ; yet was 
 every glance engaging, and every movement graceful. 
 In spite of the adulation which had been breathed into 
 her infant car ; in spite of tiie prejudices instilled by her 
 aunt into her youtliful mind j her temper was sweet and 
 open, lior heart aifectionate and grateful. Some faults 
 she certainly retained ; but charming as she was, it 
 would have been impossible to wish her to aspire to per- 
 fection. Vanity had not destroyed sympathy ; and 
 though she certainly was not satisfied without the hom- 
 age of the otiier sex, she could have wished to obtain it, 
 without exciting envy in her own. The most amiable 
 of coquettes ; though she aimed at every heart, this love 
 of empire was but the love of pleasure. She thought 
 not of inflicting pain, but she was eager to diiTuse de- 
 light ; and whether she was with the splenetic Quintin, 
 or the elegant Valiancy, her syren voice was modulated 
 hy the gentle wish to please ; and her seducing smiles, 
 animated by the consciousness of her own attractions, 
 bespoke her own perrennial gaiety, and irresistibly com- 
 pelled participation m her enjoyment. 
 
 For the first five minutes, after meeting with Cordelia, 
 she was saddened by the recollections of her father, and 
 intermingled tears with smiles; but the cloud was tran- 
 sient, she recovered her vivacity ; and having mention- 
 ed the expedient adopted by Sir Frederic Mowbray, of 
 travelling under tlie name of Baron Cromek, she rela- 
 ted the incident which had introduced her to Altamont 
 and Valiancy ; confessing siie had herself sportively de- 
 vised the artifice which disengaged them from tljeir com- 
 panions. Instead of having gone to Dunkirk, they had 
 taken a day's journey j and on tiieir return, had the 
 satisfaction to find the travellers had followed their pre- 
 tended route. " Imagine," added she, " my triumph 
 on having thus secured the pleasure of a surprise^ be- 
 sides keeping within the pale of decorum , and yet these 
 righteous intentions of mine were ill recompensed j for, 
 in our little excursion some malignant genius visited me 
 with tlje fever, which so long detained me from dear 
 England." 
 
YAX5IN0RE. 119 
 
 Cordelia, in her turn, related with what interest 
 Valiancy had contemplated her picture. 
 
 *' And pray what do you think of Valiancy ?" 
 
 Cordelia was liberal in his praise, yet professed to 
 Jiave seeji little of liim. 
 
 *« tVnd what do you say to Altamont ?'* 
 
 *' He is now here, and was, you know, my first pre- 
 ceptor." 
 
 *♦ He is now liere !" echoed Adola, adjusting the 
 glosf y ringlets that waved round her neck, »» he is now 
 lieie, you say; well, 1 Juive not yet determined which 
 •of tlieni siiali be my cavalier." 
 
 Whether the information slie had received, accelera- 
 ted the operations of the toilette ^ or whetlier she at 
 length recollectx^d, how improper it was for her chuperon 
 Mrs. liivers, to remain so lung absent j certain it is, 
 she fniished her dirss with great dispatcli, and immedi- 
 ;ate]y proposed returning to tiie drawing-i'oom. Corde- 
 lia, who had not tlie same motives for diligence j and 
 "who, indeod, trembled at the Ihoughis of meeting Alta- 
 mont under \wv tA'.Ucr's eye, i)ersuadcd her to proceed 
 alone J vainly hoping, in this interval, to regain com- 
 jposure. This expectation was compleatly fallacious ; 
 for tlie longer she th(Might of her precipitate reti-eat, the 
 ^ore she incirased her confusion and regiet. Inno- 
 (Cenee does not always inspire courage ; and when sho 
 ,at length quiitf d her room, it was with the sensations 
 cof a culpiit. In the mean while Adela had been unde- 
 ceived, and re-introduced to Altamont and Valiancy; 
 who galhuitly reproaciied her desertion, whilst she sport- 
 ively n toiled the chaI•g<^ of deception. 
 
 ** I l)elieve, said Mis. De Lille, you must exchange 
 forgiveness." 
 
 «♦ For§:ivevcsn,'* cried Adela, " is almost as hard a 
 word as ohedieice.'^ 
 
 « No," said Valiancy, " wc will have nothing to 
 
 remind us of any laws, civil or canonical. Wc ackii'iw- 
 
 ledge no authority but that of beauty, and no court but 
 
 honor." 
 
 ♦* Ob, yes, the court of honor ; and pray let us make 
 
1 
 
 129 TAXSIJfOKE. 
 
 it something in tlic style of chivalry. I think, as uo 
 damsel cvtr entered the lists heisclt", I must i-emit my 
 cause to Mr. Altamont ; tor though lie is not my rela- 
 tion, I hope lie will not cease to be my friend." 
 
 Altamont bow: d, nor was Valiancy displeased with 
 this courtesy to his own intunate friend j but finding he 
 was an exclusive object of attention, he redoubled his 
 efforts to extort the preference, to which vanity taught 
 him to think he was entitled. " I know not how it iiap- 
 pens,"' said he, advancing to his fair companion, but I 
 certainly seem to have been long acquainted with you, 
 and yet I am long lik-^ly to remain ignorant of the most 
 interesting part of your character, for 1 suspect nobody 
 will U'W ine of your faults." 
 
 *' I'o save time and trouble, you may set down to my 
 account, as many as to other people, who are not undci 
 any gi-eat or terrible temjjtatiims." 
 
 " No, that is infinitely too vague and unsatisfactory ; 
 I would give you virtues en masse, hut not a single fault 
 gratis ; I class all my friends by their defects ; not one 
 enters my heart, without some such voucher of sympa- 
 thy." 
 
 " So then, you w^onld have them wear a black niark^ 
 to prove that they belong to you." 
 
 " Not black, I can be satisfied with the most delicate 
 tint, be it of the sajyphire or the amethijst; *tis enough 
 iftheijnt but marks the gem. As to my female fiiends, 
 I can be content if I may but cypher them in sympathetic 
 ink, which to no eyes but mine shall be visible." 
 
 ** And pray is Mr. Altamont in this mysterious cy- 
 pher ?" 
 
 ** I am afraid, if it was not for his romance, and en- 
 thusiasm, he would be incorrigihh." 
 
 " Oh ! t.hen^ if such cpialities w ill procure admission, 
 Cordelia lierself may be of your corps (Telite ?" 
 
 « Cordelia perhaps ; but foi* yourself ( shall certainly 
 exact a more liberal proportion of fallibility. I know 
 you labor under natural disabilities to envy and malice; 
 yet 1 don't despair, for i rt^all.^ think you have a strong 
 propensity to mischief. The rattlesnake has lent you his 
 most destructive property I" 
 
VAI.SI.VOUF,, 12t 
 
 *• Ymu ai'L' loo tantalizing to attribute to mo tlic pro- 
 |irrties I most uish to possess. I admire cntliusiasts, 
 and you see (looking towards Altamont) I caimot fas- 
 cinate them.*' Vallaiic} was, perhaps, not liattered by 
 this attention to his friend, but he had no time to express 
 displeasure. , 
 
 De Lille, who had been playing chess with Mi's. Riv- 
 ers, suddeidy exclaimed, in a tone of vexation, " by 
 hearens, here's C\iia Gladwin '" " Welcome to Am- 
 atonda," cried Valiancy ; whilst Altamont flew to the 
 lawn, to greet his ev«>r ardent and affectionate friend. 
 Mi's. Gladwin approached not the house with her wonted 
 complacency; for, having accidentally heard of Alta- 
 moufs arrival, she had lost no time in travelling froia^ 
 Cinnberland, to aniu)unee her surprise at his neglect, in 
 not haAing himself communicated the important intelli- 
 gence. He had brought a letter from bis mother, which 
 siionld have apprized her of this circumstance ; but which 
 having been entrusted to Lord Marmiton to be franked, 
 had never reached the place of its destination. The cir- 
 cumstance was no sooner explained, than all her anger 
 vanished : to say tlic truth, she had scarcely seen her 
 hero, and contemplated his improvements, when she 
 frankly pronounced his abs(dution ; and joined the party 
 with even a dcuible portion of cheerfulness and ])leasure, 
 ' De Lille, though evidently embarrassed, received her 
 ••■with his wonted courtesy ; atul his lady, knowing she 
 had always a home at the Grange, was not disturbed by 
 her presence. Ey Mr. Quintin alone, who w«is just ar- 
 rived with SirFrederic Mowbray, was she i^eceived with 
 indifference ; but to him she was peculiarly distasteful, as 
 she seldom listened to his harangues, and had no rever- 
 ence for his heraldry. Far different was the reception 
 - she met with from Cordelia, w ho, still struggling with 
 :timi<lity, was happy on her entrance to have so good an 
 ^•excuse for not noticing Altamont; and it was also some 
 '^ consolation to shower on his friend the kindnesses she 
 \Vas fitrccd to withhold from himseHV Sir Frederic now 
 atlvanced, and, having smoothed his brow to perleet 
 composure, addressed hci w i(h his accustomed ease, and 
 
 L 
 
122 YALSiiVOUE. 
 
 almost insensibly enejrosstMl her conversation ; whilst 
 AliHJnont, atfrilmlini^ licr late precipitation to displea- 
 sure, and scein.!;^ in her jncscnt estrangement not timid- 
 ity, but coldness ; far from attempting to divide her at- 
 tentions, seemed to shun all opportunities of approaching 
 her. The Baronet was not slow to perceive this dis- 
 tance j and, as he knew Cordelia to be incapable of ar- 
 tilicej imputed their mutual shyness to some concealed 
 i-eseiitmcnt ; his own hopes were raised by this sugges- 
 tion, ajul as he watched IIr m both with insidious vigi- 
 lance, he had a malicious satisfaction in anticipating for 
 his despised rival, those jealous pangs which had so long 
 tortured his own selfish bosom. 
 
 in the meanwiiile, Altamont was honorably distin- 
 guislied by Miss Rouvigny, who appeared willing to 
 transfer to him the righis of relationship. It was im- 
 possible that any man should be insensible to the atten- 
 tions of the charming Adela ; he certainly wished too, 
 not to appear ungrateful ; and Miss liladwin, who 
 watched them both, was soon persuaded they were mu- 
 tually enamoured. Happily her thoughts were not au- 
 dibly expressed; happily too, they were not sjifFei-ed by 
 Mrs. De Lille, who was so much delighted with the un- 
 looked for coalition between her son and herneice, that 
 she overiiowed with complacency ; and was suilieiently 
 composed and harmonized to have ])ractised the lessons, 
 and she now remembered them, of the mystical abstract- 
 ed Aleck. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 << PRAY Aleck," said good Mrs. Winifred, half 
 rising from her easy chair, *' why flan't you talk over 
 matters with Miss Celiii, who would talk to you agaiu 
 in your own way?" .^■J-'' 
 
 This was precisely the reason why Al&ck did not dis- 
 cuss the subject with Miss Celia j and he muttered, she 
 was an enthusiast. 
 
VALsrifoRE. 1:23 
 
 •• 1 am sure, rctunie({ Mrs. Wihifrod, " she is a wise 
 Moiiiaii : and speaks Just like u book !"' 
 
 ♦< Yes," said Alt^ck, " slio is fluent ; but she is a lit- 
 tle visionary,'^ 
 
 \- " I wish, dear Aleck, she knew all that is in you. 
 J5y what I can undoisiand, you arc in many tilings much 
 oC one mind." 
 
 -Alexander Satchell was blessed with u sedative sweet- 
 ness of tempe!', a eonip.isecl equanindty of ndnd, thai 
 notliini^' Could vnCAv, oi- resist ; hut at this indirect com- 
 parison between him and Mis. (iladwin, his spirit rose, 
 the glowof ambition mounted to his cheeks; and he ex- 
 claimed, ** he had lately thought of a new modification 
 of his ])rinciple ; and such as lie conceived woidd be more 
 useful to mankind. He liad rellected, t'.iat to excite the 
 Inr.uan afiections was seldom so <!esirable as to allay 
 th( »u ; and he was convinced he had now discovered the 
 true seci'ct of usefulness and and felicity. In short, he 
 added, he should in future study to produce tranquility 
 and equanimity in his fellow-creatures : and leave to 
 buch as J/rs. Gladrcin. the more obvious, hut less salu- 
 tary, influence, i»y wliich the dormant passions could be 
 awakened into life.'' In reality, this idea had been 
 Uoating in his mind evei- since lie had Iieard Cclia assert, 
 with vebemence, her coji\ iction that thei*e was a mutual 
 sym])atliy between Altamont and Adela ; she had even 
 protested that they must love ; shv? would defy them to 
 help it. Touched by these words, and offended with 
 any thing like approximati(m to his own peculiar science, 
 Aleck had instantly reformed his nomenclature, and li- 
 mited his own mental actions to a province in which she 
 would not atiempt to |iartieipatc. 
 
 Mrs. Winifred was pleased nith the modification, 
 since she could more readily comprehend the language 
 in which it was expressed. She asked if his mental 
 agency might not prevent law-suits? He evaded Ihe 
 questicm by observing, that law-suits were uot generated 
 by the affections. <* That's true, indeed," said she, 
 ** there's nothing so good in them." As she promulged 
 this opinion she looked at Aleck, who uttered no i-epro- 
 

 124 VAISINORE* 
 
 ving sentence. She was so ploasrd, and so proud to find 
 she could converse on such hig,li nuitteis, thai slie could 
 not but feel endeared to Ah ck, to wliom she owed , so 
 new and delightlul a perception ; and for the rest of tho 
 day she thought only of this mental agency, and its won- 
 der-working influence. 
 
 Three weeks have passed since the arrival of Miss 
 Rouvigny ; three sliort weeks have glided away, and 
 Valiancy still remains at Bcaclidale ; so much jiiqued 
 by his cousin's indifflrence, that he totally forgets his 
 resolution to shun her society ; and though at first 
 merely actuated by vanity, by degrees comes to experi- 
 ence the restlessness, if not the tenderness of love. 
 Altamont, too, still lingers near Cordelia ; but he no 
 longer enjoys the privileges of intimacy and confidence ; 
 l)e no longer explains to her the pi'oblenis of Euclid, or 
 weeps with her over the fragment of Cornelius ; he 
 still sees her, but it is under painful lestraint ; he ap- 
 proaches her with embarrassment, and she meets him 
 with equal reserve j he has lost the hopes that impart- 
 ed to every object such deliglit ; he is sunk to the vassal- 
 age of fear; his gallant, generous nature is attainted 
 with jealousy. For the first two or tiiree days, he had 
 imputed her estrangement to displeasuie, at the too ar- 
 dent expression of feeling which escaped him in the pa- 
 vilion. In her caution and circumspection, he saw only 
 a marked and studied discouiagcment. He was.prompt- 
 cd to leave Beachdale ; but there was still so much gen- 
 tleness mixed with her reserve, that he could not resolve 
 to renounce the delight of seeing lier : and tlte recol- 
 lection of tlie sympathy she had also betrayed for Su- 
 sanna, ci»nvinced him that her coldness was at least not 
 produced by insensibility. Cordelia perceived the change 
 in his deportinent, and even detected the cause j !)ut slie 
 could not allude to the past, without hazarding the fu- 
 ture. She observed her father's eyes watciiing all her 
 movements, and to elude his vigilance, was liaj»py to 
 attend to Sir Frederic Mowbray, of whose passion she, 
 was unconscious, and in whose society she experienced 
 all tlie care and confidence of established friendship^ 
 
VVLSINORE. X'2h 
 
 Slic exerted all her self-conimp.iul. to piv>o)iL Do Lille 
 from stispoctiiiii; tiio iiiiciv^t s!ic took in Allamont's p<m- 
 vcrsatioii ; it was for iiis Sakc, and v,it!i tin.' Iiojic of 
 prolo!i!i;i!ii:; Iiissojdtis-n al IJ.'achdale, that sl-r snlMoittctl 
 to this rostiaint. aiul tor him slie could ahno.si; practise 
 the diiplicily her iuitufv'ahliorrcd. (M'ttn, when vw^a- 
 ged in a ^anie of oiu'ss villi Quintin, (tr a tetr -a-lct'.* 
 with Sit* Fredeiic, she was tajitalizcd hy the totuHot" 
 Altaniont's voice, vlsen cxcUided tVoiu liis dis^iiv.i'sc. 
 Soinetiines, ituhvil, sh.o ii!>S('racte<l h.ci self sutliiicatly to 
 collect its iin})(ui : whilst others hear.'', Cordelia eai^-er- 
 Iv listeiied, efHiaity ]U(i;i(l to reuiarlv iiissiiperitnity ovrr 
 liis companions; and to liiul t!:e sym})ati!y attested. I y 
 the assent w!ue!i her heart sporituntoiisly dictated to ail 
 his opiniovi*-. 
 
 In a few day-^ how«>ver, s'lc perceived a still p:reriter 
 change in his (ie]):»rt!nent : lie no longer discc\Tied any 
 ardor to enjoy her siK-icty ; whetlier hc!' fcLthcr was 
 j)resont or altsent, he had the same iTSorved aspect ; iV 
 he addr(ssed iier. i*" was in no peculiar aeccPit ; ii' liiey 
 >vere evei* accidentally left alone, they liecaine miiitinny 
 embarrassed. No allusion was ever made to the pic- 
 ceptor ; there was no mention if the manuscript. As 
 the future seemed al);iiu!oned to clianee. liir past was con- 
 signed to oblivion; noi-could it e5-c:^.])e her obserAaiiou'; 
 tliat Adela lavished on liim iier nr.;si f,attei i:i,2; atf. tit ions ; 
 i'"it was ])ossil)le. she made Itim her C(Mnpanioii in tlioir 
 walks, and she neverseemed satisfied if hc listened not 
 to her conversation. Cordelia dreaded to ask w hich was 
 the Caralici: and for the first time thought an heiress a 
 nmst cnvialde being. "NViiilst she sullered from this re- 
 mote source, she was little aware that Altamoiit consid- 
 ered her almost as the proj)erty of anotiier. A allancy, 
 vithhis usual carelessness, had casually mentioned wliat 
 liis mother had imparted to him on his first arrival at 
 Beachdale, that she believed Sir Frederic was desperate- 
 ly enamored of Cordelia ; and that whene\er Lady 
 ^lowbray died, an event which could be at no great dis- 
 tance, there would be a marriage. Valiancy repealed 
 his mother's strict injunctions to secrecy, and quietly 
 
 La 
 

 i'ZC, Valsinoiik. 
 
 <Usmisi^e;l tt)C subject from 1ms tlio!ip;]jts. Altainont \vas 
 j<t Hrst inciv;]iil.)i:s ; biit wlien Ik* obsoi'vcd Sir I' i-ci'cm'- 
 ic's as5ji<!iiiti(\s, and tl;f f.icility vvitli Vvlucli she adi-iittcd 
 th.'iii } Avlicn liLM-ccullccUd (hat all licr irscrvo, or ois- 
 ploasii!';\ or eiuhai-rassnuMtt, could bo tracfd tVoiu the 
 day oriiis rctiii-n to Bv-aehdalo ; hislaitli was staj^'i^cr- 
 cd, his heart seemed to have pai'tcd iV<»;!i Itope. Corde- 
 lia aj)pearcd no longer the fawltlcss beinp* he had wor- 
 s!»ipped. yet was she perhajjs iunocrnt of the onj^agc- j 
 ment \\hich bad beci! formed with herfatlicr; she was I 
 [jerhaj'S lucrcly the (/hjcct of attaehir.ent. But why ex- 
 tend to him siicii 5:miK s o("encoiira.a,'ement ? A,c;aiii. was 
 she arrai.^ncd andc oiitlen.iied : an(l every day hv- wished 
 to leave the hoifs:*, yet never once ret^-rettcd tliat he had 
 so loii!^ been its inmate ; on tiic contrary, be cherished 
 evci-y dream of deiiarted jileasmc, and found in fancy a 
 balm for the wounds it had indicted. Mrs. De Lille con- 
 tinued in her happiest mood. Her husband was pei'fect- 
 ly satisfied witli his daui^htei-'s conduct. Sir Frederic, 
 not so easily decciN od, still Siiw in the neglected Alta- 
 mont bis rival ; and, discarding delicacy witli probity, 
 resolved to leave no arts tMtemi»l(»yed, to produce a sep- 
 aration between those conscious, though unacknowled- 
 ged lovers. 
 
 The spoitive gaiety of Adila was always creating 
 some new and i.nexj)ectp<l su! j;'ct of amusenjcnt. In 
 her company, it uas scarcely possible to be tenacious of 
 gi'avity or ill-humor -, even Mr. Quintin was compelled 
 to smile at the follirs of tiic age, and inseii.^ibly forgot 
 his propensity to omimms predictions. Sometimes, in- 
 deed, his fair tyrant \a ent farthei- ; and having heard 
 him and Mrs. Gladwin expatiate on the grace and dig- 
 nity, which, d I ring the best of sill administrations, had 
 been exhibited in a court n^iu'iet, she insisted that they 
 should delight their friends by walking one together, and, 
 to tVieir own astonislmient, extorted their obedience. 
 " Oh, sorceress," whispered Valiancy, " by what magical 
 spell have you brought these two antipodal spheres in 
 contact ?" " By a sound sweeter than the music of the 
 spheres — with their own praise. Observe Mr. Quin- 
 
VALSIXOUK. 127 
 
 till," slie added : •• 1 protest he shall be niv Cava- 
 
 '• Observe ^Trs. Gln'Uvin," eefiirned he; '• ah, she is 
 now tii'(.aiii!ii,q," . r l.era:'- tired C'A\)i. Altaiisoi*'!-.-" 
 
 Colia was l<»idsiii.i^ at 5 i'rl>c;'i', \v»*.iosc eyer^sli faneicd 
 to be rivetted on A 'ila ; ar.vl s-. f'.U ^/as she of this idea, 
 that at the close (4" V e. luiiiiiot, ^!ie, wr-.s be.;-i-iniTi.^* it a- 
 i^aiii willi •rree.^ c t.ikis'H'o : 'i!:t was st(>j)t )v Qidntiii, 
 who e\chii'iied, i!f ', they we?-" nMeiicored. 
 
 " Yes, in h-ed, b t you are." cei<>'l Adela ; " since 
 that hhss( d a/^e eaniiot ret^.rn, you shall at least give 
 us asi'cond irpresentati-n." 
 
 Q'lintin turniri!:^ al) uptly from his partner, said, 
 • She knows Mothini^' of the court, poor thiii,^\ I do 
 not stipjxise she ( \("rR;uvthe Louvre d: need in her life. 
 Do yoti thiiiU siie st' ps like a countess?" 
 
 '* Xo," \\hispeiTd \'alhincy, " but very like a nneen 
 at chess, when she s'vej.s, wiih, a single move, feoui 
 one corner of the h)r\rd to the other." 
 
 Soiui times V.'itia eMe;aj2;e<i in an ar^'inient with Quin- 
 , tin on the rights an«i wronps (»f W(»?iien. till lie was al- 
 jv.osi anqry ; and then soothed hiii. into j^'ood humor by 
 playfidly repi atin;^ lis penii^rec. (hi those occasionsit 
 was ns^fal f'>r Valiancy to assert tie ])i in Ji;ative of his 
 sex, whilst AltatiKitn ajid '6iv r'rederlc alfected to re- 
 main n Miter, '^i'lie M"st energetic disputant was Celia 
 Gladwin, who alwa;, s claihied fur her sex pre-ejiiinence 
 in truth, fortittide, and constancy. 
 
 ** Cf)nstanc\ . l^iadaiu," cried Quintin, they may 
 have by dint of obstinacy ; Init to consistency. ^ believe 
 a woiuan seMoiw has any pretensi'-ns. (t'.onj|^b 1 confess 
 I wis'ii vou could liave proved thcui to possess discre- 
 tion." ' 
 
 *• Oh. my dear Sir." cried Adela, ** that is so com- 
 mon-place a qi'alit} •" 
 
 ** IMot so. fair lady ; in discretion I include prudence, 
 prftpriety, and secrecy ', now in my opinion, a love-sick 
 girl is the only feuiah^ capaMe of c^nct aliment.'* 
 
 •' Mr. Oiiintin," eriec. C-lia, rising with vchrnienee, 
 '* I predict, yon will, ei-e many days, chans^c your opin- 
 
128 VALSlNORfe. 
 
 ion. What would you sfiy, Sir, to /«'o women dividing' 
 a secret between tlicni lor lifteeu veai's ?*' 
 
 " Say Madam ? That tlicir secret woukl not admit of 
 a subdivision ; it must have been some partnership in 
 fraud — some sisterly com})aet oFiniquity." 
 
 •'* No, Sir, n(! — tlie prejudice is unwoilhy of you : I 
 could bring" witnesses i Mr. De Lille can vouch." Here, 
 suddenly checkiii.y; herself, she added, •• Mr. l)c Liile 
 e(udd prove to you that Nvomcn arc capable of discre- 
 tion." 
 
 ** Very true, ISIadam ; he has an eMan!])Ie in his own 
 wife." 
 
 Mrs. De Lille colored at this unlucky compliment, 
 but lier oMu consciousness di(i not prevent her re- 
 marking her hus[>and's embarrassment, and she was 
 revisited liy a (juaim of snspieion. Adela. now anxious 
 to close the coutmtiou, called up(ni Aitanumt to vindi- 
 cate the charaelei- of iier sex. 
 
 " 1 am not sure," said lie, <•' that it would be any 
 compliment to them, to allow that they equal inen in 
 every property of ])rudcnee. They have so few iaults, 
 that they are perliaps )iot equally circums])ect in con- 
 cealiuii; them. Innocence is almost too ingenious for 
 discretion. ^ 
 
 *' Througli chr'istal walls the slightest moth will peep.*' 
 
 " Their ehartei-ed virtue is modesty ; and if to that 
 we add generosity, tinith, constancy, candor, and benev- 
 olence, 1 btlicN c \vc shall not too much enlarge their pro- 
 pert}." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, Mr. Altamont," cried Adela, 
 <* for this kiiul interposition. May truth, constancy, 
 and generosity be youi' handmaids as long as you are 
 ready to protect them." 
 
 Altamont and Cordelia exchanged a momentary glance. 
 Both thought of Susanna, but the latter had also an un- 
 easy re(!ollection of the word cavalier. Valiancy was 
 by no means flattered ; hut Celia was enchanted; she 
 translated this half sportive sally into a delicate iiitimii- 
 
 
VALSliVORE. 129 
 
 tion of attachment ; and almost wondoi'cd Herbert could 
 be so slow to perceive the lad v*s partiality, till she re- 
 colh-etrd that timidity ami (list i-ust were always insep- 
 erahl • from gcjiuine love ; and with this solution she was 
 satisfied. 
 
 Adcla possessed rare talents for mimicry, and she 
 would often imitate the tone and manners of some of the 
 first theatrical |)erformers witli a felicity that indicated 
 talents of no inferior order for the stage. She was one 
 evenin;^ cxliibitinj>: in the comic style, in the pavilion, 
 when Mr. Quintin suddenly made his appearance, and 
 with reproving;- {gravity contemplated her i)orformancc; 
 easily comprelundin.a; his looks, she suddenly approach- 
 ed him, ajKl ^rivccfully droppins; on the knee, *» Most 
 potent, grave, and reveiend signior, — " but, j)erceiv- 
 iug no smile, she arose, and retreating a few paces, 
 *' No, I will not be a beggar, but a queen : you shall 
 confess I have a noble ambition, for I will he the daugh- 
 ter of the great Gustavus; and you shall be my Lord 
 AVhitelocke ; and Valiancy, Prince Charhs my success- 
 or : Cordelia is the Grace of my court ; and all the rest 
 of you are English, with the exception of Mrs. Glad- 
 win, who must condescend to be my lady of honor. Will 
 this satisfy my guardian? Will he suffer me to take a 
 part in such a mask as this ?" 
 
 Mr. (^uintin's dark heetled brows w'ei*e instantly un- 
 bent ; the furrow in his left ciieek was softened into a 
 sn^ilc ; and he again fanciid himself in the atmosphere 
 of a court. 
 
 The new queen unbinding from her waist a blue rib- 
 bon, suspended it from her neck, to designate Ciiristi- 
 na's favorite order of the Amaranth ;* aiKl stealing from 
 f''>rdelia a sprig of myrtle, she seated herself at the up- 
 ]ir end of the room, to receive the compliments of liei* 
 iilusirious visitor. Mr. Quiniin advanc^'d with much 
 dignity, and bowed thrice to the earth j the queen i*e- 
 
 * The order of the Amaranth was instituted Iiy Christi- 
 na, and she was accustomed to wear the blue ribbon, which 
 was its badg? on every occasion. 
 
 ifk '>i^' 
 
1 
 
 130 VALSIXOHE. 
 
 turned the salutation with as many courtesies ; and hav- 
 ing exchani^i'cl a f>'\v court plirasis, in which the anihas- 
 sador's i^iavity almost destroycil the composure of the 
 spoctatoi's, the vouiiii,' queen, with a .a^racious smile, en- 
 quired if il;erc was no EngTisIi gentleman that would 
 accept from hn- iiands thsd hadge of hei* tuvorite order 
 of knightho!»d — the bhie ribbon suspended from her neck, 
 and the sprig of myrtle in her hair, which was to re- 
 present that paradasaic liower, the Amai'antli ? 
 
 »' Wiioevcr accepts this [sledge," said she, must be 
 loyal to his sovereign, and constant to liis lady. 1 trust, 
 for tlie honor of your country, My Loi'd, you can pre- 
 sent some one not unwortiiy of this fair tlistinction.'* 
 
 ** I trust, Madam," said Valiancy, *• you will not 
 confei such a mai*k of favor on a foivigner." 
 
 " Oh' prejudice of man, disjlaimed by woman. Why 
 should we limit virtue to our latitude ? I am a princess, 
 it is true, but my proudest title is to be a philanthropist." 
 
 The ambassador, with much ceremony, presented 
 Altamont, to whom the queen offered her pledge of con- 
 stancy. Altamont perceiving that Valiancy was uneasy, 
 and, unwilling to excite in him even a momentary jea- 
 lousy, would have declined the honor, on the plea that 
 he was destined to be a vagrant. 
 
 ** The more reason, then, you should belong to this 
 oi'der of kiiighthood : take this symbol of hope, which 
 is the fairest flower of paradise." 
 
 Altamont. — " Lady, I renounce the hope." 
 
 Q'lecn. — ** You cannot ; hope is winged, and, like 
 Otho*s falcon, which won her way from Elsinore to Cro- 
 mer, shall follow you. Take, then, this pledge, and 
 be happy." 
 
 Altamont, bowing with appropriate gallantry, kissed 
 the lady's hand on receiving the blue ribbon ; and with 
 it the flower, which he immediately put into his bosom. 
 
 ** Given like a Queen," oied Quintin, in an cxtacy 
 of admiration. 
 
 Valiancy, who had been inipatient at this sentimental 
 trifling, advancing, demanded admission to the same 
 order. 
 
VALSINORE. 13i 
 
 *< No, Sir," cri(Ml the queen, half leptoaeli fully, 
 •* loyal yoM cannot b(\. for you are (Icstiiuil to rrigu : 
 c«)nstant you \\ili not be, since y<ui ar<' sure to conquer. 
 You need not hojjc, since yow are already rich in plea- 
 sure ; besides all this, you are my heir, and 1 abdicate 
 royalty in your favor." 
 
 It was w ell for Mrs. De Lille that she was not present ; 
 Valiancy bowed and retreated witii an air tliat bespoke 
 displesisure : .iltaniont was embarrassed; Mrs. Glad- 
 win could wilii difficidty re])rcss her transports. 
 
 ** L'])on my word,*' cried Qnintin, '• this was brave- 
 ly acted." 
 
 « Yes," rejoined Valiancy, «» to the vcrj- life, — 'twas 
 ' the masque of nature." 
 
 Sir Frederic, observing with infinite satisfaction his 
 ill-disscmblcd reseutment, whis])ered to Citrdelia some- 
 thi»)g to which she was incai)ablc of attending; wliilst 
 Adcla. with ati air of unconscious iniujcoice, approach- 
 ing Valiancy, begged he would now act his i)art. 
 
 *< No," said he, " when I act, I shall be afnarJ" 
 
 *< Well, pronounce any vow— but that of silence — '* 
 
 He was again pleased, in spite of himself; but fling- 
 ing from the pavilion, exclaimed, « Incomparable co- 
 quette! I will leave Beachdale." 
 
 i\ltanu)nt had made a similar decision ; he recalled 
 the last words «)f Haller, he fancied he had l)een deceived 
 in Cordelia, ami proniis;>d to waste himself no longer. 
 
 When the party assembled, every one but Adela wore 
 a stnnbre asj)ect. 
 
 De. liille IukI gone out early on one of his secret ex- 
 jjcditions, and to his wife's inexpirssible chagrin, was 
 ju>t leturn; il. Slie had, intleed, no reason to i»npute his 
 absence to any unfortunate accident, since he had eliar- 
 ,gcd his servant to inform her, he might spen I two or 
 three days fr<>m home ; but the m\stei'y recoiled all her 
 former suspici »us, and whatever efli'orts she made, she 
 fo nid it ini[)(issiblf to appear in spirits. She sat, there- 
 fore in mood\ silence, almost as ahst^raeted as Al^ek, 
 till she was suddenly roused by AKamont's announcing 
 hi9.iut€nUon of ijoing to London on the next day 5 whcni 
 
1J2 VALSIIVOKE. 
 
 Valiancy instantly deciai'cd his rcsoliitionto aceonipany 
 
 llili). 
 
 Similar expressions instantly burst from Mrs. Dc 
 Lilk; and Mrs. Gladwin ; " you will Jiot p^o, 'Valiancy^-* 
 Avas ctn^rgetically parodied by •• You shall not ijo, Alia- 
 
 Sir Frederic looked at Cordelia, and she clianajed 
 countenance ; Cordfl»a stole a glance at Adehi, and fan- 
 cied her bi'ow was clouded with care. . Mis. De Lille 
 continued her entreaties ; but Altamont was firm, and 
 Valiancy affected to4)C inflexible. 
 
 *' But wlien will you return ?" 
 
 Valiancy pretended to have a predilection to visit Ire- 
 land. Altamont, from a sudden impulse, professed an 
 inclination to go to Germany. Cordelia's eyes bright- 
 ened, for she hoped he meant to join Haller, who had 
 always been a point of union between them. !Mrs. Glad- 
 win considered a few moments, and then asked if De 
 Lille would not be at home to-n)orrow ; but, as if sud- 
 denly illumined by a happy presage, added, " Yes, I 
 pledge myself for his return ; I have his promise, and 
 that I am sure he holds sacred ; at any rate, delay would 
 be dangerous. Herbert Altamont, by the memory of 
 your father, I conjure you to stay till after to-morrow ; 
 and then," lor>king significantly at Adela, « if you 
 choose to go, I shall not oppose your departure. I shall 
 expect all of you who are young, to accompany me to- 
 morrow mornina:, on a little expedition, no matter whi- 
 ther. Mr. Valiancy, I sliaU not excuse your attendance.*? 
 
 « You have gi\ s^n me too strong a motive for obedi- 
 ence ; a mystery possiisses for nie a thousand attractions; 
 if I was ever to marry, it should be in the oriental fash- 
 ion, without seeing my bride." 
 
 " Ah! Mr. Valiancy, yoii have not yet leai'nt what 
 it is to luve." 
 
 «• 1 confess, Madam, 1 am rio apt scholai* in acqui- 
 ring that profound science." 
 
 " jNo," resumed she, " you have never yet seen the 
 woman who could be your monitor." 
 
 f< No, Madam, 1 am persuaded 1 might pass through 
 
r 
 
 VALSINOKB. 133 
 
 all (he transmi.j^pations of Indur, before I should meet 
 xv'itli sucli a pr.nligv." 
 
 Here Mrs. De Lille, with some alarm, interrupted 
 the controversy •, and as Altamont had consented to de- 
 fer his journey another day, she pressed Mrs. Gladwin 
 to remain, durini^that interval, under her root^ — a pro- 
 posal which was gratefully accepted, as she confessed 
 she wished much to see All*. De Lille, previous^ to the 
 excursion. 
 
 V allancy, sniilin,&^ at this idiomatic expression of se- 
 Ci'ecy.. insensihly recovered his .^ood humor ; though he 
 still preserved an air of sullenness towards his cousin, 
 rwho resumed her vivacity. It was otherwise with Cor- 
 delia i she was still >)ale ; slie again saw only tiie stem 
 preceptor i she longed to remind him of the unfinished 
 manuscript ; not that she was now interested in the des- 
 tiny of Cornelius or Susanna: she could think but of 
 one object, and to liiin She had, perhaps, appeared ca- 
 pricious or ungrateful. Why could he not guess her 
 thoughts ; why v>-as not her heart transparent ? Yet 
 slu" wislud nor tiiis. With all her tendeiness and enthu- 
 siasm she would not for the world, have betrayed her 
 feelings : so truly did delicacy supply the place of pride, 
 ,:and even of prudence, to Cordelia ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IT is painful to relinquish any habits confirmed by 
 
 time, and attachment, but particularly painful to re- 
 
 ^n<Mince the commerce of the heart, to suspend the liabit 
 
 of familiar communication and unreserved confuh-nce. 
 
 /Cordelia and Adcia, who bad been long accustouied, on 
 
 ^•retiring for the night, to spend sometime in walking to- 
 
 .g<tlir, did not depart from this established usage, though 
 
 in the present iustanee, it certainly contributed little to 
 
 their enjoyoicjit. The conversation was languid And 
 
 M 
 
13i VALSIVORE. 
 
 constrained ; each seemed afraid lest she should gues 
 tlic other's thoughts, and instead of canvassing t!ie inci- 
 dents of the evening, they talked of Haller and of Ger- 
 many j and Adela ^ave some interest! jig anecdotes of a 
 first lover, whom she confessed to have made some im- 
 pression on her heai't. 
 
 Whilst th<;y were thus engaged, Valiancy ^as also 
 conferring with Altamont on subjects of a very different 
 nature; his momentai-y jealousy had yielded to his 
 friend's ingenuous conduct, and at the same time he re- 
 collectetl, not without compunction, how inattentive he 
 had been to that friend's most earnest request, having 
 kept for tliree days an unopened letter, from the person 
 to whom he had written for information respecting tlie 
 "Woodvilles. Such carelessness was almost habitual with 
 Valiancy, and might be called the indolence of pr'ospe- 
 rity. Naturally humane, he was not insensible to his 
 error, and, in the present instance, reflected on it with 
 real concern and regret. 
 
 The letter contained some interesting and melancholy 
 particulars of the imfortunate Woodville. He had been 
 arrested about a month ago, and, by some means un- 
 known to Nevers, was enlarged. Since that period hii 
 had, by means equally unknown, obtained the situation 
 of captain's clerk, and was just embarked for the West 
 Indies. " If you wish to see him," added Nevers, you 
 must set out instantly for Spithead, where his ship is 
 now under sailing orders." 
 
 ** And I will see him," cried Altamont. *< You can- 
 not," said Valiancy. " The sliipsaih d yesterday. Had 
 I opened the letter soonor— — but I will honestly confess, 
 I forgot to K>ok at it. — Here's some information respect- 
 ing his wife. — Nevers gives her address. Well, we will 
 go and see her : we could have done him no good. Here, 
 take the letter, .^Itamont ; I am a shabby fellow, but I 
 cannot help it.". He t.'ien taliped of Adela's coquetrj'^, 
 protesting he would n-it return without Altamont, to 
 Beachdalc, " Not that you can find much amusement 
 here, I confess j for you won't laugh at Amatonda, and 
 
TAXSJNORE. 185 
 
 there's ii© pleasure xvith Cordelia, she is so cugrossed 
 with the lifiroiK't. 
 
 « 1 s/m// not return, Vnllancy, I lun resolved. 
 
 « But why ?" 
 
 ** Oil, never ask why j tlierc arc a thousand reasons.*' 
 
 « Now, Altaniont, you have botrayiMUhc seeret» and 
 my mother shall not vsee ine here witliout you " 
 
 ♦* I guess your surniise : itiswiiolly unjiist. Mrs, 
 De Lilie has uuilbrnily treated mc with respect and cor- 
 diality.'* 
 
 " And her husband ?" 
 
 « I have seen little of him->-but he has behaved with 
 perfect propi'i(>ty." 
 
 ♦* And are yoti cui-ed of your romantic suspicions, Al- 
 tamont ? Do you now attribute to him those mysicriuus 
 remittances?" 
 
 " No, no ; on that subject I anj satisfied." 
 
 " And wliat then can determine you, at this season^ 
 to leave Beaehdale ?" 
 
 « I am always a vagrant," (tliis unlucky word recall- 
 ed to Valiancy's mind tiie expr<>ssi<>iis used by Christi- 
 na, which had so lately offended hiui — he c<»lor», d, and 
 was silent,) whilst Altamont added, *• and 1 believe I 
 must answer in Amatonda's phrase, * tis my destiny.' " 
 
 « (), well, 1 seek not to |)>nctrate the mystery," cri- 
 ed Valiancy, to whom it now oeeurred that his friend 
 had discovered in Adela some dicisive symptom of at- 
 tachment ; but tliis surmise was so humiliating to van- 
 ity, he resisted it with all his energy, and these fricndji 
 also parted with mutual reservation and coBceaUuent. 
 
 Ms 
 
136 TALSINORE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WHEN the family assembled at breakfast, it was dis- 
 tovered that Mrs. Gladwin was absent, having taken a 
 walk to the Grange, to prepare for the projected excur- 
 sion. She returned not till it was nearly twelve, at 
 which hour the carriage was to be ready. She again 
 enquired, witli earnestness, for De Lille, and express- 
 ed groat vexation at his prolonged absence. " Howev- 
 er," cried she, " I have given my word, I sliall not re- 
 tract. Come what may come, I have crossed the Rubi- 
 con." 
 
 Valiancy, perceiving her uneasy looks and restless 
 perturbation, forgetting his spleen to Adela, entertain- 
 ed her with a ludicrous picture of Amatonda's distress. 
 *♦ Pity but De Lille were present to answer her with cor- 
 responding looks. Could you not imagine them both 
 transformed to two carrier pigeons, exchanging pretty 
 billets ? Pray enquire of her — 
 
 *« Is it treason ? is it love ? 
 
 *f Tell me, tell me, gentle dove.'* 
 
 « Oh," cried Adcla, <* 'tis neither love nor treason j 
 'lis simply plotting j and woe to you if the ])lot be not 
 discovered." 
 
 " Tlic great seal of England should not console me 
 for the disappointment." 
 
 During the.se lively sallies, CQ;rdelia, standing near 
 the bow window, had hoped she would exchange a few 
 words with Altamont; but just as he was approaching 
 her, they were into-nipted by Sir Frederic Mowbray, 
 who had invited himself to the party, and who, under, 
 the mask of civility to the one, and of friendship to th« j 
 other, was always harrassing tiicir movements. 
 
 And now the clock strikes, the landau is at the door, 
 and Celia, still repining at Dc Lille's absence, leads the 
 
VALSINORE. 137 
 
 way, an(! is followed by her wondering companions. 
 
 Tiioy w( re no sooner seated than she exchiimed, " Mr, 
 Quintiii sliould have been present, to be convinced that a 
 wonian was capahlo of discretion ; but I will not antici- 
 pate," added sh«.i i •» the secret shall remain to the last 
 nioinent i" and indeed she was revolving in her niiinl in 
 what manner to give the most theatrical effect to her in- 
 tended discovery. 
 
 <« But, dearest Madam,'* cried Valiancy, will you 
 not favor us witlisome ijiiiuKitiou of this prodigious mys- 
 tery ? Docs no one share the burthen witii you I" 
 She sliook her head. 
 
 " It concerns not you, Tallancy." She tlien tlircw a 
 significant look on Altamont and Adela, and i-elapsed 
 into her reverie. The latter had her accustomed viva- 
 city, and as all the rest of the party were pensive or agi- 
 tated, she conversed almost solely with her cousin. 
 
 " Really," said he, " I think we are the only inter- 
 locutors among the Dramatis Persona;." 
 
 « And pray," retorted she, " do you assign me the 
 place of a mute or a confidante ? thougli, on recollection, 
 the one is synonimous with the other." 
 ** 1 make you the heroine — the quecnJ" 
 Here Celia. roused from her musing fit, exclaimed, 
 *' The Ac?-o of the piece is Herbert Altamont, and here 
 we are, at this spot wc shall alight." 
 
 « What! here, Madam! why, wc Iiave come but 
 four miles. Is tbis to be the scene of your grand denoue- 
 ment? 
 
 No answer was returned, but the carriage stopped 3 
 Sir Frederic assisted Celia to alight, who, without his 
 aid, must have fallen to the ground, from extreme per- 
 turbation. No pot^tas^ter hammeiing for a rliyme, no 
 parliamentary probationer conning a maiden speecli, ever 
 shewed moi-o perpU -xity ; mj quadrUle-lffcing dame de- 
 claring the saiiH prendre vole ; no hardy chess j^ayer, 
 redeeming the game with a stale mate, ever experienced 
 moiT agitation. 
 
 They alighted at tfic gate of a meadow, which led to 
 a laim house. Celia, preceding the groupe, walked ob 
 MS 
 
 .xVfe^-'if.'*-. 
 
138 VALSINORE. 
 
 towards a plantation of firs, on tlie brow of a hill rising 
 in front of tliis rustic mansion. At some distance ap-^ 
 peared a bower, to vvhicli she directed iier steps: it was 
 called the llieiiiiitaji^e, and was suiroundcd by a laurel J 
 hedge, the iitdly and the ewe, with foiked arms, fe;iiard- * 
 ing the entrance •, the seats were cushioned witli moss 
 and ivy ; a grey stone was the only tabic, and on it was 
 placed a clasped book, in which a silver pencil was en- 
 closed. This lonely spot commanded a delightful view 
 of the forest walks, bordered on either side with luxuri- 
 ant corn fields. " Here," cried Celia, *' you may see 
 tlie whole demesne." Then taking up the book, sh« 
 requested each of the company to write in it some senti- 
 ment suggested by the occasion. 
 Sir Frederic wrote, 
 
 " Happy the man whose m ish and care 
 
 " A few paternal acres bound ; 
 *' Content to breathe his native air 
 
 " In his own ground." 
 
 Adela being next challenged, hastily wrote, 
 
 *' I seek not fortune, bring to me 
 
 " The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty." 
 
 Valiancy followed, with Mrs. Piozzi's paraphrase of 
 the distich addressed by Johnson to Miss Aston : 
 
 *' Expressions of freedom fall oddly from you ; 
 *' If freedom we seek, fair enslaver, adieu !" 
 
 Cordelia expressed her secret nnhappiness in a qiro- 
 tation fiom Mrs. Grevillc's ode to indifference : 
 
 *' Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, \ 
 
 " That, like the needle, true, I 
 
 " Turns at the touch of joy or woe, ] 
 *• But, turning, trembles too." 
 
 jUtamont; meutaDy alluding to Cordelia^ wrote^ 
 
VAX3IN0RE. 139 
 
 ,» " Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, 
 " My lieart, unlravelled, fondly turns to thte." 
 
 Celia herself added a line from Thomson, and taking 
 the book under her arm. ])roposed they should proceed 
 to a sumnjer-house, at some little distance, originally 
 erected as an object by the late proi>rietor of the estate 
 before them ; and which, by a private messenger dis- 
 patched in the early part ol" the morning, she had pre- 
 pared for their reception. 
 
 Wo opposition was made to the proi)osal ; and leading 
 them down the gentle declivity, they were suddenly pre- 
 sented with a little romantic dell, fenced on one side 
 with the light clematis, and over-arched by birches, al- 
 ders, and aspens *, on the other, the path was so narrow, 
 that tlic company were obliged to separate ; and it for 
 once happened, in spite of all Sir Frederic's precautions, 
 that Ahamont was next to Cordelia. 
 
 For a few moments they proceeded in total silence, but 
 a thistle impeded her foot. Altamont stooped down to 
 remove it, and as she thanked hiui she inadvertently 
 called him Herbert. In an instant hope and confidence 
 returned to his heart, as Cordelia exclaimed, ♦* You 
 will not, surely, go to-morit)W ?" 
 
 " Did you wish me to stay, particularly, over to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 " Only, you know, we never finislied the legend j 
 and" added she, hesitating, " it was agreed we should 
 read it together." 
 
 Altamont was beginning to answer in a tone of de- 
 light, when the i)ath widened, ami Sir Frederic again 
 hung on their steps. Yet not even his unwelcome pre- 
 sence could now divide them from each other ; and though 
 their conversation was suspended, they were restored, 
 they scarcely knew how, to the privileges of intimacy 
 and confidence i so completely indeed wci-e they absorb- 
 ed in their own feelings, that they heard not the dashing 
 of a cascade at some distance, till Valiancy expi-essed 
 his wish to explore the spot from whence the murmur 
 issued. Altamont objected to tbis; that the sight of a. 
 
140 yalsikoue. 
 
 Mater-fall was commonly less picturesque than tlic 
 sound. Valiancy advanced a fe\v paces, and tlien re- 
 turnijig, exclaimed, *' I am clearly in the wrong : the 
 source of idl these sentimental murnturs was nothing but 
 a milK and njy impertinent curiosity haschcated mc of 
 the pleasure of fancying this a second Tivoli. Even 
 Nature owes so many charms to fancy." 
 
 He was here interrupted by Cclia, wlio, having ad- 
 vanced before her company, now halted, pointing to a 
 small octagonal building, which was to be the bourn of 
 their excursion. It was simply constructed of wood, 
 but had been so ingenuously painted as to rei)rescnt an- 
 tiquated stone, and was now nearly covered with laurel 
 and ivy, which ambitiously asjiircd together, but afford- 
 ed a snug retreat to the goldfinches and red-breasts, who 
 divided their verdant premises with much concord and 
 harmony. 
 
 The door stood open, and presented to view a wind- 
 ing staircase, by which the company ascended to the on- 
 ly apartment the house contained. It was lighted from 
 the roof, but had one glass window reaching from the 
 floor to the ceiling, and opened on the terrace beneath, 
 with wijicli it oimmunieated by a narrow flight of steps^ 
 V, hich were intended to represent the time-worn stairs 
 of a ruinous edifice. The walls and ceiling were paint- 
 ed blue; the oak floor was of transparent brightness ; a 
 round table, covered with a damask cloth, and a few 
 low sofas, comprised the whole of the furniture. 
 
 This building had been called Severn's Folly, but was 
 this day named by Celia, Oberon's shell ;jand that none 
 might mistake the ap})ellation, it was placarded on a 
 screen which stood in the centre of the apartment. 
 
 « Do none but fairies own this house ?" said Valian- 
 cy, observing no traces of human inhabitants. 
 
 « You shall not find you need attendance," replied 
 Celia, removing the damask cloth, under which a choice 
 collation was prepared for her guests, the sight of which 
 redoubled their good humor and cordiality. 
 
 « Sui«ely," said AUela, <« we ai'e indeed served by the 
 |airies,'^ 
 
TALSINORE. 141 
 
 At this moment a gale of fragrance, produced by pota 
 of mignionette and other . odorifci'oiis flowers filled the 
 room ; a)i(l the slow vibrations of two ^^)lian hai'ps 
 were heard intermingling, in solemn accord, their wild 
 mellilluous harmonies. 
 
 *♦ Chai'ining fairies," cried Valiancy, " I pf^rceive 
 the place is fidl of spells and enchantmen(s. Dear Mrs. 
 Gladwin, can you tell me of any charm by which to es- 
 cape the danger of falling in love." 
 
 " You," replied she, ♦' arc in no danger ; remember 
 your boast of yesterday." 
 
 " Oh, trtist not a boaster's promises j I assure you I 
 am in great jieril at this moment." 
 
 ** I can give you a spell against temptation," said 
 Adela archly. 
 
 ** Lady, it comes susi)icionsly from ycni. I must ex- 
 pect treachery in the gift." 
 
 " 'Tis no gilt, but simply a piescription which is 
 offered gratis : keep constantly talking, and you shall 
 escape the fascinations of a Cij'ce or a Calypso." 
 
 Valiancy insta)itly aiose, and with his wonted grace, 
 recited Mereutio's speech of Queen Mab. Celia instant- 
 ly challenged Altamontto ])ronounce Hamlet's soliloquy. 
 Adela herself folh)wed with a speech from the Temp( st, 
 and surpassed them both. Sir Frederic was invited to 
 take a pari, but he was too mucli occiijied in watching 
 the lovers, to feel sufficiently at ease, for such an exer- 
 cise of memory, ♦• And now," cried Celia, unclasping 
 the Album, *» it is my turn to commence orator." She 
 then deliberately read every sentence inserted in the 
 hook, till she came to her own, which was a line altered 
 from Thomson ; when raising her voio, rtnd rivetting 
 her eyes on Altamont, whilst licr cheeks were flushed, 
 and even her respiration interrupted, she exclaimed ; 
 
 " This house, this nianor, all, my fjiend, are thine.-'' 
 
 Here she pauspd, and raising her hand, added, '< Such 
 is the oracle of destiny. The fair demesne you have 
 Been, you may from this day consider as your's. You 
 
1*3 VALSINORE. 
 
 are now in possession of 15001. per annum, which you 
 will hold on this single cotulition, that you use it wisely." 
 Here she stopt; her heart too full for utterance, and 
 burst into teai's. Valiancy stared, Adela's looli.s be- 
 spoke incredulity, Sir Fi-ederie reddened one moment 
 and turned pale the next, when he beheld Cordelia, who 
 had been seized with a sensation of faintness, and 
 clinging to her chair could with difficulty save herself 
 from failing on the floor. Altamont would instajitly 
 have flowii to her support ; but he was intercepted by 
 Sir Frederic, who drew her to tJie window, where though 
 he hung over her with ill-dissembled fondness, he al- 
 most trembled with rage, from the convicticm that ano- 
 ther possessed the heart of the woman lie adored. 
 Cordelia soon recovering, imputed her indisposition to 
 the powerful scents diffused through the apartment, and 
 hastily disengaging lierself from Sir Fredeiic, whose 
 attentions slic for the first time observed with a sort of 
 uneasy distrust, she took Adi la's arm, and with her 
 descended to the terrace, promising in a few minutes to 
 return to the company. 
 
 Celia, who had at first been disconcerted by this in- 
 teruption, now resuming her subject, confirmed her 
 former assurances, of Herbert's good fortune. " Tiiis," 
 cried slie, « is the secret so long buried in my bosom ; 
 a. secret never revealed, but to the man whose assistance 
 was necessary to its consummation. This estate, of 
 which the title-deeds will shortly be put into your pos- 
 session, is purchased foi" you by a friend, to etiable you 
 to i)ui'sue your politicid career in peace and glory. And 
 now you will easily understand why I opposed your ta- 
 king orders, since a clergyman is not eligible to Pai'lia- 
 ment ; you will easily comprehend why 1 urged your 
 being sent to college, and employed some artifice to per- 
 suade you that your mother's mysterious friend was still 
 watching over your welfare. 
 
 " Through the same medium, I exerted my influence 
 to induce you to spend some yeais in sStiing other coun- 
 tries. It was my ambition to render you in every res- 
 pect proper for public life. This was my experiment^ 
 
VAL9TN0RE. 14S 
 
 nnd it has succeeded ; tltis was my labor, and it has 
 prospered ; this was my mystery, and it ts unlokU;d. On 
 the most interesting day oC my life, 1 can |)r«uilly say, 
 Cornelia had not more cause to glory in the Gracchi. 
 
 ,1 envy not a mother." 
 
 On anotlier occasion, Valiancy would have smiled at 
 the extravaganee of this compliment; but now he 
 \vas spell-bound in amazement ; and C'elia, the only 
 person, perhaps, to whom silence gave encouragement, 
 proceeded, »« I make no boast ; it is all owing to your 
 own goo{hiess. that my e,\'p(>riment hits succeeded ; yet 
 suffer me to say, iiad you disappoiiiti'd my hopes, you 
 had forfeited youi'recom])ence. The estate is to be held 
 in trust, for tlie good of mankind. 
 
 *» Mistake me not; 1 do not mean to exclude you 
 from the bh>ssings of domestic life. I have discovered 
 the woman formed to harmonize with you, to soften all 
 your cares, and recomi>ence your exertions. I can trace 
 the progress of a mutual attachment, and I can venture 
 to say, Pliny and 11 ispulla were not happier than you 
 will be." 
 
 The gratitude and surprise of Altamont at an event 
 so strange and unexpected, could only be exceeded by 
 his confusion at this intimation ; biit while the name of 
 Adelatrciubledon her lips, she was suddenly checked by 
 her re-enti"ance with Cordelia. Altamont and Valiancy 
 had equally tlieir cheeks dushed with crimson, the one 
 from perplexity, the othei- from resentment ; both made 
 
 . an involuntary movement to the door, to pn*vcnt farther 
 elucidation. Sir Frederic relieved their embarrassment 
 by proposing an immediate return ; and as ViUlancy's 
 servant had l<i'oughta horse, Altamont eagerly mounted 
 
 , liinj, to avoid any further allusions to a subject so dis- 
 tressing to his feelings. The rest of the party resumed 
 tlieir phiees in the eairiagc, but all woi'e totally chan- 
 ged ; allgairty was dimissed ; all animation had van- 
 ished. Adela w as tlioiightful. Valiancy taciturn, Cor- 
 delia looked ill, ami Sir Frederic, in his fear of exci- 
 ting suspicion or displeasure, constiained himself so 
 much that he apiiearcd perfectly frigid. Celia herself. 
 
1 
 
 144 VAL31NORE. 
 
 exliaustocl by her efforts, leaned back, scarcely able t« 
 restrain her teais, and now and then dropping a pithy 
 sentence of nmraliry , on the mutability of liunian sensa- 
 tions. *• 1 expected it," cried slie, '• to have been a 
 day of joy, but joy is overpowering. 1 wish those flow- 
 ers liad not made Cordelia ill i 1 have been saddenetl 
 ever since." 
 
 On reaching Beachdale, she eagerly enquired for Do 
 Lille, expressing equal wonder and disturbance at his 
 absence. Slie then joined Altainont, privatily assuiing 
 him, that to-morrow he should have better evidence than 
 her word, to convince him of the fact she had announ- 
 ced ; for the present, she would not enter on particu- 
 lars ; besides, she wished to spend an hour at the Grange. 
 Slie told liim in confidence, it was to speak to Mrs. Win- 
 ifred ; and then admonishing him to entire secrecy, she 
 resumed a njystcrious air, and stealing through the 
 park, proceeed by a circuitous route to her friend's hab- 
 itation. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HITHERTO it was not necessary to anticipate the 
 fcommunieatirm which was to immortalize Celia Glad- 
 win's pre-eminence in discretion ; but now that the in- 
 evitable moment is arrivetl, it will be proper to explain 
 the nature of that mysterious connexion, whicli had so 
 long subsisted between her and the kind-hearted protes^ee. 
 Her acquaintance with this artless creature had com- 
 menced in her youth, and during the annual visits she 
 was accustomed to pay to some I'ich relations in Mon- 
 moutlishire ; she then shewed much kindness to Winny, 
 at that time the contented wife of a petty farmer, who 
 occ.ipied a dairy ; but soon after removing with hisj 
 wife to another county, Celia remained for many yeai"^ 
 in igni rauce of the changes which had occurred in he 
 destiny. 
 
 I 
 
VALSINOnE. 145 
 
 Afferalon,^ interval she discovorcd her in London, 
 earning ajnai'!(»nancc ?)v her (!ail> lahor, and steadily 
 refusing to live with her present bushand ; who having 
 been an itinerant player, won her heart by a talc of dis- 
 tress ; wasted thesaviiigs of the good farmer's industry; 
 and. finally, kept another woman in open infidelity. 
 Indignant at this last outrage, >V inny vowed never to 
 live with him again ; and, with Celia's assistance, pro- 
 cured the situation of housekeeper in a gentleman's fam- 
 ily. Warm with gratitude for her benefact'css, she 
 longed, most ardently, to make her some acknowledg- 
 ment ; and, by dint of frugality and diligence, saved 
 enough to purc.iase a lottery ticket. The transaction 
 remained a pro fotm<l secret, till she discovered that it 
 was drawn a first pi-ize ; when almost ovcrwhelmt d with 
 the intelligence, sho tlew to her good M?ss Celia. and 
 implored her acceptance of the ticket; deel.>ring she 
 wished for nothing so much as to sec her living like a 
 lady, and to put herself under lier protection. With 
 equal generosity Celia resisted the plea, and there v as a 
 lonr contest of kindness bttween thein. But Wi- ny 
 foinuled lier plea on a point of English law, with whjcli 
 the lower orders are mil acquainted ; that a woman af- 
 ter njai'riage is incapable of possessing any thing inde- 
 pendent of her husband, and protested tliat she dreaded 
 nt)thing so much as seeing the jn'oduce of iicrgood for- 
 tune extoi-ted from hei- by her nov, detested protiigatc. 
 Celia, though highly applauding tliose heroic sentiments, 
 refused to enrich herself by what w(mld be termed a le- 
 gal fraiu', however defensible on the abstract princi- 
 ples of equity and justice. At bngth the matter "was 
 Icompromised between them, Celia consenting to receive 
 (lio mon^y to vest it in the fiiuds in her own namf* : to 
 .transmit to Winny an annual sum sufficient forbersup- 
 Ipoit ; and to let the surplus accumulate, to be hereafter 
 ■^applied to sjme gt cat object of patriotism or charity. 
 "For herself she siill rigidly rclus«"ii to accept even the 
 ^isn'Allist ieco'.ii|)ence ; and wa^- inort iiaj>py in thus dis- 
 'iclaii;;ing fortune th.^n another in possessing it ; she des- 
 ffpiseU the personal risk incurred by her intrepidity ; 
 
 N 
 
 Y 
 
146 V.VXSINOKE. 
 
 she gloried in the possibility of b 'itig persecuted for hav. 
 ing dared to evade a law whicii, whether jiistly or not, 
 she conceived to be among thi' rvrongs of ruoinen. hhc 
 was, however, soon sensible that Winny's appi-ehensiinis 
 from her husband's persecution were not wiioUy chimer- 
 ical. He had disovered her retreat i and, wondering 
 at the comfort in which she lived, insisted on living witli 
 her. Celia, at length by bribes induced him to desist ; 
 but from that period siie had d'-emed it n -cessary to use 
 more precaution for her cdd friend's security. 
 
 The occasion was most inviting to her h.ve of mystery, 
 and though the importunate husband was now go!ie a- 
 Lroad, slie suggested her dropping his name, and re- 
 stricting herself to the appellation of Mrs. M inn if red, 
 by which alone she was known in Mr. Mapletoft's fami- 
 ly. Celia having been long persuaded that Altamont 
 was destined to perform some signal service fcr the 
 state, conceived it impossible that the estate should be 
 more wisely bestowed, and proposed to her protegee the 
 scheme she had formed for the benejSt of mankind. 
 
 Winny, who had never ventured to consider as her 
 own property what she owed to Celia's friendship, sub- 
 mitted implicitly to her decrees. Yet she was not with- 
 out some repining wishes that her poor dear Aleck might 
 have shared with Altamont, but this condition she never 
 ventured to suggest ; for such was her gratitude andi 
 her probity, that she never conceived the possibility ol 
 resuming any liglits she liad once surrendered to her pro- 
 tectress i and fondly as she doated on Aleck, she pi'e- 
 sumed not, even for his sake, to make any claim to the 
 prejudice of her first engagement. Of bonds and settle- 
 ments she knew nothing, and to legal forms had an in- 
 vincible abhorrence ; but to her upright mind a word was 
 equally binding with an oath ; the promise that had 
 passed her lips could only be cancelled by injurious treat- 
 ment ; yet she never blazoned this religious faith witl 
 an imposing name. A simple Christian, she merely as 
 pired to jierform her duty ; and the point of honor wm 
 with her b ut the test of cousciencc. 
 
VALSINOBK. It7 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE predilection which Mrs. (iladwin h.id, almost 
 from the fii'st glance, conceived lor Do Lille, uni- 
 ted to tiie necessity oC some assistance in her project, 
 had detennined her to entrust him with Winny's desi(;n. 
 He was Hattered by the confidence ; gave her nnhoimde<l 
 promises !)f service, and every assurance ol" fidelity. At 
 her eaiMK'st request, he had secretly pnrcliased the es- 
 tate conti.e:uoiJS to Valiancy manor, which had occasion- 
 ed so much speculation in the ncighbori)ood. The title 
 deeds weiv at present in his possession, but were final- 
 ly to be transferred to the intended proprietor. I'his 
 confidence was not, however, mutual ; and the incident 
 of the letter, which excited such uneasiness in Mrs. Do 
 Lille, nnsjht, had she been prone to suspicion, have in- 
 spired in Mrs. Gladwin eriual distrust. From that pe- 
 riod, he .had been less cordial .ind ingetmous : he never 
 spoke of the intended donation with any j^low of plea- 
 sure i and he was always su.gj^estinj^ some reason for 
 prntraetiiii^ the term of probation and concealment. 
 
 On the return of Altamont to England, however. Ce- 
 :lia had resolved that the communication should take 
 place; but De Lille alledged that there was still some- 
 thing wanting to make the conveyance complete. 
 
 In their last conversation, perceiving her somewlial 
 irritated, in reality, from her lively conception of Alta- 
 mnnt's secret contiiets and sufferings, (the pangs of hope- 
 less love) he promised in another week to be I'cady for 
 thr eclaii cissevient ; yet on the morning after he had giv- 
 en hei" this assurance, he went on his private excarsion. 
 It was not her intention to have proceeded without his 
 f BOncurrenee ; but having been thrown off her guard by 
 ''le resolution expressed by Altamont to leave Beach- 
 de, and proceed to Germany, she had hastily prccip- 
 tated her promised elucidation ; considering that though 
 bhe coidd not produce the title, deeds, she could pledge 
 
 N 2 
 
148 VAiSINORE. 
 
 lier Avord for tlicii* existence. She was also somewiiat 
 piqued by De Lille's procrastination ; and had conse- 
 quently the less repugnance to hazarding this step with- 
 out his approbation. Besides all this, the secret she 
 liad so long preserved with such ease, was no longer 
 supportable with i)atience. From the moment she had 
 approached the cixsis of diseovei-y, slie was occupied 
 with her theatrical denouement. 
 
 The mystery now pressed for developement with an 
 impetus which was not to be resisted : and she mistook 
 the impulse of her own ardent nature, for some secret 
 inspiration omnipotent and inevitable as destiny. 
 
 On approaching the Grange, she longed for sympa- 
 thy and reciprocation wiih her good old Winny. Sur- 
 prise and doubt had appeared to absorb Altamont's plea- 
 sure ; and her own anticipated raptures were strangely 
 intercepted ; but with this kitid-hearted confidant, she 
 expected to taste unalloyed delight. A trifling circum- 
 stance again thwarted her wishes : Winny had been in- 
 duced by Aleck to ride out in a chaise he had borrowed 
 from the Abbey ; and was gone, according to her cha- 
 ritable pi'actice, to visit some sick person at a short dis- 
 tance from the village. Celia now recollected that her 
 friend had mentioned in the morning her projected excur- j 
 sion ; commenting, with much complacency, on the| 
 readiness Mr. Quintin had shewn to oblige Aleck ; but 
 neither the informati(m nor the reflf^ction made the slight- 
 est impressi(m on Celia's mind at the moment. Now, 
 however, that she sighed to tlisburtlien her heart, she 
 would gladly have followed Winny wherever bhe might 
 be, to enter on hej; purposed explanation ; but the Ma- 
 ])htofts were out, the servants knew nothing of heir 
 friend's movements ; there was no remedy but patience,] 
 and of that vii'tue she was the least capable. For the 
 first time she found solitude irksome ; and in this inter- 
 val of suspense, almost regretted that she had been so 
 preci{)itate with her disclosure. 
 
 She yearned for her affectionate Winny's assurancfrj 
 that whatever she did was cojisistent and best ; she, for 
 •nee, distrusted her judgment, and doubted of her owii 
 
VAI.9IN0R&. 149 
 
 faith ; she was even visited by some compunctious seru- 
 J)l s, for liaving so frankly disposed of another's pro- 
 pi'rty ; and dcterniiiuHi to stipulate for some conditions 
 in favor of Ali ck. She even missed the secret, over 
 wliich slie had so long brooded, that to part from it Would 
 make a ehasin in existence. 
 
 All these gloomy reflections were occasioned by not 
 finding N> inn} at home ; it was a check to the buoyan- 
 cy of expectation ; and fancy, for once, left the heart 
 subdued to nature. On this day of her triumph, — this 
 interesting epoch of her life, she wept; and after hav- 
 ing spent some hours in expectation of » inny'.s return, 
 at length rejoined the circle at \ allavicy House; not t<» 
 enj »y society, but to cheat suspense of i'.s lifigering toi • 
 meats. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 *< SHALL I advance or ivtreat, Edw aid ."'* said Al- 
 tamont, pcic;>iving his friend seated at a writing-desk, 
 and apparently insensihle to his approach. 
 
 Valiancy having exhibited unecjuivocal symptoms of 
 iIl-liuu)or during dinner, had willidriwu to his own 
 apai-tment, in order, as he said, to write some letters 
 previous to his journey. Altamont sus}>ecting the tiutt 
 cause of his estrangement, determinesl. by a fiank tdair- 
 cissement, to put an end to his susp'-nso. '' Valiancy," 
 repeated lie, »• will you not spare a quarter of an hour to 
 a tiiend ?" 
 
 *' ()b» Sir! Mr. AIta?nont, 1 perceive," — Tl.rewas 
 no playful affectation in tliis formality ; it was tlie genu- 
 ine cxpi'cssioH of strong displeasure, 
 
 ** Jlr. Jiltamant ! what a i-ebuke to my want of <leco- 
 rum ! I supp(»st^ 1 m.ist in future semi ip a servant to 
 amiounce my name, witli all dite puric'ilio." 
 
 <* In future every thing will be diliereut from what it 
 has beeoj tUero is a revolution since ycaterdaij, \Viiej;i 
 
 N3 
 
150 VALSIXOliE. 
 
 am I to wisli yon jot ? for among other changes it seems 
 you arc likely to become my kinsnuin.*' 
 
 *' I thought to find you in a uioic serious mood." 
 
 " I was never moi-e so in my life. It is you that 
 still choose to be something for wliich I really can't find 
 H name,— -ciMitious, ciicumspect, enveloped. For n)y 
 i)art, I doii't undejsland obliquity, — or shall 1 call 
 it delicacy ; and really should not scruple asking an old 
 friend if he v. as going to bo married ?'* 
 
 •< And do you sincerely imagine I am going to be 
 married ?'' 
 
 " And why not, when the lady smiles, fortune jumps 
 iVoni tlie bag, and nothing but the lawyer and the bishop 
 are wanting ? I'll tell you what, Altamont, among other 
 novelties, do got a new habit of ingenuousness; that 
 cautious air of mystery is necessary to the man who 
 i^lrudges at a profession ; and for that very reason is dis- 
 claimed by every one who has the privilege to be borti a 
 gentiemun.^' 
 
 •< 1 hardly know how to answer you. Valiancy." 
 
 *< Oh, you might know, for you possess all the eom- 
 f)0«nd tenses in perfection ; there is no elaborate phrase,, 
 iio elegant artifice in laiiguage, of which you arc not a 
 master." 
 
 " Come, come, this is all the captious petulance of a 
 dissatisfied, restless lover." 
 
 " Oh no; don't imagine 1 am a lover. I like a coquette 
 to while away an hour with | I don't pretend to be stupid 
 or invulnerable as a beetle; but you are really over nice 
 about Miss Rouvigny. You miglit have safely entrust- 
 ed your miitual attacliment ; 1 never cared for her enough 
 ^o have j)ut her in competition with a frientTs welfare j 
 never would have risked for her my integrity ; no, no, 
 though 1 may have laughed at romance, I hold honor 
 sacred , though 1 might never affect patriotism, I really 
 did believe in tiie existence of honesty ; and could so far 
 strt^tch my imagination as to give a man credit for une- 
 quivocal sincerity." 
 
 " To wliat does all this lead ?" 
 
 4* 01i> merely to elucidate a point in <juestion^ WU* 
 
VAXSINOI«[C< 151 
 
 ther three niontlis after you have been presented at court, 
 (you and your bride.) you may not be spoakina; in the 
 House i)j piaisc of all you have hitherto abused ? Who 
 knows but you and 1 may sit on opposite sides, at once 
 complimenting and controverting each other ?" 
 
 " So then, if I should really have this accession of 
 fortune, I am to lose your friendshij)." 
 
 " If yo7i should. Oh, subtle casuist ! Where is the 
 contingency ? Your fiiend asstits the fact, and my fa- 
 ther-in-law, it seems, is to substantiate the assertion. 
 The estate is obvious to view, and still you express a 
 doubt or a surmise. Nay, Altamont, don'i take the girl's 
 word that she loves you, but exact an affidavit proi>crly 
 and regularly attested." 
 
 ♦•' If 1 could not find an excuse for your spleen, I 
 siiould think it strange you did not rejoice in a friend's 
 prosperity." 
 
 "But where is there a friend, Altamont ? A friend 
 should be an equal ; a partner, entei'ing with ardor, 
 into all my pursuits ; sympathizing in my tastes and 
 wishes ; loving even my faults, and respecting my 
 weakest prejudices. The friend should be my otlu-r s»if ; 
 the same life's blood should How between us. Now, Al- 
 tamont, such an union has never subsisted between us j 
 you were always aiming to be the benefactor^ aiul 1 brook- 
 ed from you admonitions and reproofs 1 could not have 
 enduird from a superior.'^ 
 
 Hero Valiancy jmused. Altamont prrsorvcd a cold 
 silence. Irritated by a forbearance he attributed to con- 
 tempt. Valiancy resumed, »* No other i)eing should have 
 usurped such authority ; but the tutoring seemed to sat- 
 isfy your punctilious dignity, and I tlierefore franiJy 
 submitted to the yoke." Valiancy again paused, and 
 was again unanswered. " Yet thcugh I irpined at your 
 i-eserve, though I was always sensible to your want of 
 sympathy, 1 would not have believed a tale to your pre- 
 judice ;/"I had an obstinate faith in your iiitegjity ; nor 
 W(tuld I have admitted, on any authoritv but yoiu' own* 
 that you were capable of disingenuous artifice — seeking 
 wUat you affected to disclaim, aud engrossing the verj 
 
152 ViXSINOKE. 
 
 object yon professed to despise. No reasoning, bo rhet- 
 oric, not even your own eluquence should have persua- 
 ded mp to believe tbis." 
 
 ♦< And do you seriously suppose I have stooped to 
 such duplicity ? — tliat I have sougiit what 1 disclaimed, 
 and engrossed tiie object 1 professed to despise ?'* 
 
 Altainont repeated tbcse words with delibei-ate solem- 
 nity ; and Valiancy, siiocked by their import, in his turn 
 was silent. 
 
 « Tbese are strange words to conne from the associate 
 of one's childhood, and include a cbai'ge which, allow 
 me to say, I sbould better know how to answer to any 
 other than you." 
 
 " If I have transgressed decorum, Sir, I am ready to 
 make the reparation due to the feelings of a gentleman.'* 
 
 " No, Valiancy, I shall not accept the permissi'm ta 
 inflict on one of us everlasting remorse. My courage, 
 at least is not suspected ; and I warn you no provocation 
 on your part shall ever make me attempt tbe life of one, 
 I have so long considered my fiiend." 
 
 Valiancy, recollecting that bis ow n life had been pre- 
 served by tbe person be bad just abused, stood abashed ; 
 conscious of bis error, but not noble enough to avow his. 
 feelings. 
 
 *' I, can account, however, for your petulance," resu- 
 med AUamont, »• and in part foigive the caprices of a. 
 lover." 
 
 « I disclaim the title!" 
 
 " 'Tisin vain ! N-tliing but passion could have so 
 perverted your judgment, tiiat you should nt)t discover 
 you were yourself the real object of Miss Kouvigny's 
 aifection." 
 
 " My dear Altamont.** 
 
 " 1 wish not to excite your presumption, but as w« 
 are so soon to part, I repf at sbe loves you." 
 
 " What strange vagary is this ? Does.she not treat 
 me with indifference and caprice ?" 
 
 " Because sbe distr':S^s \oup steadiness ;, ,sbe love* 
 you, but se^s your faults, and has too miieb sense an^ 
 spirit to sufiw inciiuatiott to prevail over judgtueat.** 
 
YALSINORE. 153 
 
 " And I like lior all the bettor for it ; but still, my 
 sapient casuist, how should you see throuu;ii her hnut?" 
 
 " Because 1 liad an interest in your happin' ss, I 
 observed tiiat her eyes always Ijiqhtened at youv ap- 
 proach ; and that v hocver was tlie person slie address- 
 ed, her animation was increased by your presence.*' 
 
 *' Blither attentions to yourself, — was that mere co- 
 quetry ?" 
 
 " Yes. a coquetry the most innocent. Consider the 
 dispaiify in our situation ; and what a coxcomb must 
 that n)an be, who nnder my circumstances could impute 
 her politeness to interested motives. No, Miss Rouvig- 
 ny esteemed me tf)0 much, to suppose I was capable of 
 such egregious vanity. . As a last proof, since this morn- 
 ing her behaviour is changed." 
 
 " But may not that be from the delicacy of affec- 
 tion ?" 
 
 ** Valiancy, you arc surely in love. By this diffi- 
 dence, this distrust, I sec you are really capable of the 
 passion; now I heartily forgive your injustice.'* 
 
 ** forgiveness is not enougli, Altamont : you must 
 forget my folly.*' 
 
 <• I know not that I ought to do so ; your heart prompt- 
 ed some bitter things i you intimated, that we had nev- 
 er been truly fi lends.'* 
 
 (( Forget tliose foolish words." 
 
 ** You will, F know, rcmeujber longer than T shall re- 
 sent them ; yet, one thing I must say, should I ever be 
 thrown on adversity I could Mot now, without meanness, 
 find aneliorage i»i Valiancy." 
 
 *« Well, but you shall never be tiirown on adversity.'* 
 
 *• I could never dismiss the recoll^etion. that you re- 
 membered our ineqi!ality : never persuade myself to 
 challenge your services : never, without incurring lity 
 own reproaches, pernnt you to tax my gratitude with 
 unrequited obligation." 
 
 On rejoiniug the family, they found, sitting quietly to- 
 gether, Mrs. Gladwin and Mrs. l)e Lille, who had h-eu 
 but imj)erfectly api):i'/Ad of the incidents of the morning, 
 and was musing on her husband's absence and her son's 
 
154 YALSINOIIE. 
 
 "I 
 
 intcjifled departure. Adela wasi)layin;5to Cordelia, who 
 stood by her side ovrrlookiiig tlie niiisie, wlicn Altamont 
 enquired, if she was recovered from iier indisposition. 
 Sije blushed, from the C')nseions?i<;ss tliat her disorder had 
 been oecasi(jned by the interest she took in ids destiny. 
 Ilei- emotion was not unobserved ; and hope, tiie more 
 dclieious for being imperfect and restrained, once »norc 
 st«de to ids heart. He began to flatter himsi If, that all 
 he heard respecting Sir Frederic was erroneous, but 
 however tins might be, neither honor, nor delicacy now, 
 forbade the avowal of his own attachment. 
 
 To one who has long pined in c;)neealnient, the privi- 
 lege of disclosure is comparatively the termination of 
 his sufferings. Altamnnt seemed once mtire to commu-, 
 nicatc with Cordelia, and, by a single glance, to divine 
 all she would have said. The music suspended conver- 
 sation, and was this evening aec?ptablc even to Valian- 
 cy, who now hoped to descry in Adela some marks of af- 
 fection. • She happened to play a march, to which Ilal- 
 ler was partial i when Altamont rising from the sofa,. 
 in which he liad been indulging some poetical dreams of 
 happiness, asked if she still wished to finish the manu- 
 script of Cornelius. Her assent was so unequivocal, 
 that he ventured to propose their resunung it, on the 
 morrow morning, in the pavilion. As she had no time 
 to start objections, and tacitly cimfirmed the engage- 
 ment, Altamont had now sufficient matter for specula- 
 tion. 
 
 On this important morrow too, he was to learn from 
 Mrs. Gladwin all the mysteries of his fottunc ; but this 
 circumstance at the moment esca})ed his recollection ; he 
 thought only of being permitted to dedicate fortune, 
 fame, his faculties, his feelings, his hopes, his joys, hi» 
 iifc. and all tliat ennobles life, to Cordelia. 
 
VALSrXORE. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 CORDELIA, always accustomed to be punctual, a 
 haV.it slic dfi-ivcd I'.aia tliat moral s} upatliv, wliich is 
 ever pi'uiiipting a drlicato coiisidcialion for the ease 
 and comfort of others; was this morniTig ready long be- 
 fore tiie hoiir api)ointed for the int»Mvie\v ; but fearing, 
 as woman is nat;ir.Uiy born to fear, slic might seem too 
 importunate for the promised plcasui'e, she remained in ' 
 her own room, till w ithin a fi w minutes of th<' time v and 
 then, descending to the ^garden, glided over the lawn 
 without once glancing towards the pavilion : though 
 sometimes stopping unconsciously, with the persuasion 
 that she heai'd Aitamont's step, since she could not but 
 believe he had been long watching her approach. To 
 her surprise, however, she received no summons ; she 
 met with no iiitcrruption -, she slowly returned ; and with 
 due juocauticm, deigned to look towards tlie pavilion, 
 which she instantly perceived to be empty. Deeply chag- 
 rined, half offended, she again sauntered towards the 
 paik, but beheld not the olijict of her pursuit ; and af- 
 ter spending some time in these fruitless exp'^ctations, 
 she was joined by Adela, and sorrowfully relinquished 
 the engagement. 
 
 The summons to breakfast was much earlier than usu- 
 al. For Adela had a fancy to be a gleaner, and called 
 herself Phop lie ; whilst Valiancy, witli much pleasantry, 
 supported the character of Tonclistone. Cordelia heard 
 not one word of their conversation, till she saw Alta- 
 mont enter so pale, so languid, so unusually pensive, 
 *hat all her purposed vengeance was suspended, and 
 wiien he approached, she addressed him iuAtduntarily in 
 a low voice as Herbert. Both rose from the table as 
 soon as pussible, and se])arating fiom Valiancy and 
 Adela, strolled towards the shiubbery, appearing mu- 
 tually to shun the spot, whicli should seem to remind 
 them of thcii* lapsed engagement. 
 
156 ViX9IN0K£. 
 
 " If time could but return," cried Altamont; if to- 
 morro'v coidd be like josteriltiv — 'T>v;iS uli a dieum. 
 My roinanric iViend invcsti^d nw with a visionary j^ood. 
 'T-'.vas an icj'-!)alace, and is now dissolved. My 15001. 
 a-year is eouipl.'tcly dissipated; y»t 1 rtpinc not at the 
 privation, sine*' it reverts to a man, in some resj'vcta, 
 iiearer to my heart than any relation upi»n eartli." Cor- 
 delia looked her surjirise. ** This is no time for oxpla- 
 nation. The mpments are too jH'ccious ; periiaps this 
 may be my last hoMr «f happiness." 
 
 ** Good heavens ! what ni ."lan you ?" 
 
 « Not that 1 am dying," rctnriied he, with a njflan- 
 choly smile. " I may long consume da^s and jcars, 
 and yet survive life ; for wlicn hope is gone, tlie Ir^art 
 is dead forever; yet» Cordrlia. I siiall never lament 
 having missed wealth or splt^ndor. Tli« re is hut • ne 
 man i should ever envK} and that man, whatever ids 
 cares or privations, in -#4esert or a prison, i shiudd 
 deem the hap[>iest upon^^^^h." 
 
 Cortlelia answered notj^^it there was in his voice a x 
 tender touching 8<deainfty her heart tai.ght her to in- 
 terpret; yet she cast down her eyes, stiil fluctuating 
 between liope and distrust ; still dreadiiig to hear, what 
 she most wished to believe. 
 
 *' If such a being exists," cried Altamont, my fate is 
 indeed decided ; and whether I remain in tiiis country or . 
 seok another, t must oc an alien from hope and happi- 
 ness every wijere." h 
 
 Cordelia now looked up with unaffected perplt^xity ; 
 but before she could pnicecd to juakc tiie enq-iiry, widcli 
 might forever liave dispelled from his uiind t!»e suspicion 
 of Sir Fredi. ric, they wei*e interrupt, d by De Lill", who, 
 bowing stiffly to Altamont, and smj'dni, sarcastically on 
 his daughter, desired her to look in the study for his 
 pocket edition of Shakespeare ; and long b«fote ^he 
 could execute this c.smnussion, had drawn her compan- 
 ion to another part of tiu- garden, evidently engag'-d in 
 a C( nvt isation of too serious d, east to warrant intrusion. 
 
 It la liroper to explain ^\hy Altamont failed in iiis ap- 
 pointment, ile had gained the pavilion, as Cordelia 
 
VAXSINORB. lB)r 
 
 divined, long be Fore tlie hour of meeting ; and was 
 standing at the entrance, wlicn he found liis arm grasp- 
 ed hy Mrs. Gladwin, who, begging a i'ew niinutes eon- 
 versation, led liini down the cliesnut walk towards the 
 village, and eagerly entered on her intended explanati- 
 on. She was never gifted witlirbrevity ; her thoughts 
 spread into so many ramifications ; and in the present 
 instance, she was so often impeded by sentiment, that 
 they i-eachcd the end of the avenue, before she came to 
 Winny's ticket. Tiien leaning against tiie park pales, 
 which were just opposite to tlic Grange, siie pn^posed 
 stepping out, to ask if her old friend was returned. Said 
 and done with her was the operation of the same mo- 
 ment; and greatly was she rejoiced to obs<rvc, at the 
 window, the object of her search, who eagerly throwing 
 up the sash, besought her for G«Hl's'sake to come in for 
 two moments. 
 
 " Worthy creature," cried Celia, as sbc crossed the 
 threshhold j " 1 liave pledgej^^ myself, my dear Alta- 
 1)10 tit, that you fihall provide j&ir Aleck," 
 
 Th(v were met at the door J)y Mrs. Winifred, whose 
 countenance hesj)oke not jcty.^but perturbation and sad- 
 ness. *♦ Ah! dear, dear Miss* Celia, I have such a 
 tale for you !" 
 
 « You may speak freely before Altamnnt. He knows 
 all. I have told him every thing.'* 
 
 <* I am sorry for it. It was not my fault ; no, nor 
 poor Aleck's neither ; he meant all for the bpst. But 
 what shall I say to this good Mr. Altamont. Oh ! dear 
 Miss Celia, you will never forgive me." Thru wring- 
 ing her hands, she sunk back in her easy chair, whilst 
 both Altamont and Mrs. Gladwin said every tiling they 
 could suggest to give her encouragement. At length 
 they learnt, that she had yestor<lny attended Aleck to 
 Tisit a dying man, who had lodged for the last three 
 weeks in the farm house on Cordelia's favorite hill ; so 
 celebrated for the salubrity of its situation, Mr. Framp- 
 ton having heard of Aleck, who was S'sppos* d to pos- 
 sess some occult art in tlse cure of diseases, expJrssed a 
 strong Uesii'e to see him. Aleck was introduced^ and 
 
 
 
VALSIXOKE. 
 
 iiiimediately became stmngly interested in liis recovery, 
 ^jothing is so mortify mg to a generous mind, as to 
 have any power attriljuted to it uliieii it does not pos- 
 sess. AJeck's iieart was touched by this appeal to his 
 kindness, but his fancy instantly kindled at the sugges- 
 tion, and with his accustomed facility, he began to spc* 
 culate on the possibility of administering relief. Might 
 not the malady originate in some diseased affection of 
 th" soul; and would not tlie lungs be healed with the 
 htai t ? Fraught with tiiis idea, he repeated his visits 
 xto Mr. Frampton, thought of him incessancly, and of- 
 ten talked of him to Mrs. W inifred, who delighted to 
 find that he had at length an object intelligible to her ap- 
 prehension, and proud to co-operato in so good a w»rk, 
 repeatedly sent, by his hands, jellies and conserves to 
 the afflicted patient. Mr. Frampton now lieard, in his 
 turn, of Mrs. Winifred, and naturally expressed a de- 
 sire to see her. Ah ck, who accounted her a wondeix)us 
 Ijeachy and simply be'\ ved her recipes availed beyond 
 the doctor's skill, pressed her to accompany him ; and 
 to obviate her only objections respecting distance, pro- 
 cured a one-horse chaise from Mr. Quintin for her ac- 
 commodation. 
 
 Gladly did Winny alight from the carriage, contem- 
 plating, with maternal complacency, her benevolent 
 Aleck ; bui she was not a little shocked to learn that 
 Mr. Frampton was materially worse. The curate, 
 Mr. Bb'idy came down stairs to meet her, and by hinn 
 she was ughered into the sick chamber. The fii'st ob- 
 ject slie beheld was a couch, on which the sick man was 
 reclining ; beside liim sat a person writing from his die- 
 tation: his hostess followed Winifred, making many 
 apologies for the littered apartment. 
 
 <* Make no excuso», my good friend," said Winny -J 
 K we m\jst ail bear with one another." 
 
 , At the sound of her voice the patient, raising his 
 '4iead, exclaimed, ** it is my wife!" and Winny, with 
 a piercing shriek, discovered her husband, of whose 
 death Mrs. Gladwin had, as she imagined, received dei* 
 ^sive evidence. The recognition was instantly made; 
 
VALSINORB. 159 
 
 and the stinposcd Fniniptou said he should die in ])eacc 
 if he nii,e;ht but obtain hiM- f»ri;ivt'iiess. " And llicn,*' 
 said Mrs. WinilVed, " he hioked so teriihiy, and spoke 
 so pitifitlly, that (liough 1 never believed I shoidd coasc 
 to hate him, I could not help being sorry to see hiui suf- 
 fer. And then he asked nie if i was not eni'iched by a 
 lottery ticket ; and as 1 cuuld not tell a lie. I answered 
 nothinj^. And then he said, * I know it is so.' And 
 he desired the man who was writing, to shew nic a let- 
 ter he had received without a name, which gave him the 
 account. And then he said, * You did not well to de- 
 ceive me so long. I speak not for my own sakd but 
 yours. I have a nephew who would not let me want for 
 any tiling.' And just then who siiould come in but your 
 friend, Mr. De Lille, who turned up the whites of his 
 eyes at seeing me, and could scarcely believe I was his 
 unck*s tvife.^' 
 
 « His uncle's wife !" exclaimed Celia, " that is iiu- 
 possible !" 
 
 ** But indeed, for all that, 'tis true ; there's the pa- 
 rish register to prove it. Mr. De Lille's fatlier was my 
 husband's own brother." 
 
 " But how could Loyle be De Lille ?" 
 
 " Oh, 'twas called Loyle, but it should have heen 
 Lisle, and that he changed it to Lille ; for what cause 
 he knows best : but certain it is he was my husband's 
 nephew ; and the man in black who was writing so fast, 
 shewed me the copy of a bond he had given him long 
 ago, to take to himself all the property he either had. or 
 should come to have, in the world : and my husband said 
 lie was glad I had never been found out, for that then 
 tliat deed would have been put in force against me." She 
 tlien ])roceeded to relate, that, being ov'rpowered with 
 the discovery, she was conveyed to an ad joining apai't' 
 ment, where De Lille joined her, protesting his concern, 
 and declaring he was not aware who she was. Here 
 Celia shook her head, with strong indications of incre- 
 didity. 
 
 Mrs. Winifred then briefly concluded her narrative : 
 the surprise occasioned by her presence appeai-ed to have 
 
 02 
 
16§ VALSINORE. 
 
 brought on a violent paroxysm, in wliich the patient 
 breathed his last. She was again I'enioved to another 
 room where De Lille paid her most assiduous attention, 
 and repeatedly assured her of his friendshi]) ; offered to 
 concur in any scheme for Aleck's estahlishment ; and 
 finally bi'ought her home at a late hour, with as much 
 respect as if she had been a queen. 
 
 « But now," cried she, " what shall be done for 
 god'i^^r. Altamont? for you know the law spares no- 
 thing,^ and 1 shall only have my own dower; for Mr. 
 Bland and the man in black, both said Mr. De Lille 
 was my husband's natural heir ; and you know he has 
 every penny in his possession." 
 
 " Surely," cried Celia, " Jaspar De Lille will not 
 be so base as to take advantage of a crooked turn in the 
 law ? What ! can you believe him capable of commit- 
 ting an act of whicli a felon might be ashamed j — of abu- 
 sing trust and betraying confidence ?" 
 
 ♦< But he says, dear Miss Celia, that if he should 
 decline the property, the next heir would take it ; so 
 there's no end of vexation. But you shall hear what 
 he says himself; for, not knowing you were at his house, 
 he left tliis letter for you, which I saw him write; and 
 indeed it came from his pen as if it had been before in- 
 dited." 
 
 This indiied letter being produced, was given to Alta- 
 mont, who, at Mrs. Gladwin's request, read as follows : 
 " My dear Madam, 
 
 « In a moment of extreme agitation, I employ my 
 pen to explain to you the most painful occurrence of my 
 fife. I will lay open my heart, and throw myself on 
 your candor. The most generous of women will not 
 distrust tlie purity of my motives, or the disinterested- 
 ness of my conduct." 
 
 (Here Celia, jumping up, exclaimed, " I told you so j 
 I knew he would be noble and disinterested.") 
 
 " It is curious to reflect, that my present uneasiness 
 arises from a sovirce whence it could be least suspected ; 
 that it is produced by your confiilenee; and that what 
 was at first my supreme tiiumph, is become the instru^ 
 meat of my most exquisite torment." 
 
VALSINORE. 161 
 
 (Here Celia's eyes brightened ; Altamont looked down, 
 unable to disguise bis disapprobation of sueii fulsome 
 flattery. Winny looked up, as ifsbc would have asked, 
 What is all this to the purj)ose ?) 
 
 *♦ By what fatality have you been inJluenced, by what 
 mysterioJis insj)ira(ion were you directed to repose such 
 unlimited trust iu tlie person you should have been ujost 
 anxious to avoid ? That I iiave not viduntarily bvtruy 
 cd vour trust, is now my only bapjiiness and consola- 
 tion." 
 
 (•' Ah, bow elegantly be writes ! what magic in liis 
 pen!'' murmuied Celia. Nobody contradicted lier. 
 AViiniy was seized witli a fit of coughing, which for a 
 short time suspended the reading.) 
 
 ** It is necessary to explain to you the circumstance 
 which occasioned the delusion under which we liave botii 
 acted; a circumstance which involved the most moment- 
 ous event of my life — the or.ly secret I have not reposed 
 in your faitliful sympatiiizing bosom."' 
 
 (Ah ! sighed she ; ah ! thought she, his wife is not a 
 woman to confide in.) 
 
 •* 1 am descended from a clergyman of the name of 
 Lisle, which custom corrupted to Loyle. 6ej)arated 
 from my family in early life, I had no intercourse with 
 any bra)ich of it but my deceased uncle, the unworthy 
 lius!)and of your excellent friend Mrs. Winilrcd. Thougli 
 Unacquainted with ids blameless wife, I was aware of 
 bis flagitious conduct, and 1 trust it was from no impro- 
 per or unbecoming piide, that I wished not to acknow- 
 ledge so disgraceful a relation. The slight change in 
 my own name, wbicli had beeti adopted in my youth, in 
 a great measure shielded me from exposure, and I bo- 
 ]fcd to pass through life without even participating in hi»^ 
 reproach. Yet though tremblingly alive to the delicacy 
 of rej)ntation, I was not callous to the claims of humanity ; 
 and when this distressed kinsman, seven years ago, im- 
 plored my aid to save him from the horrors of a jail, I 
 did not witbhoM assistance ; but having supplied his 
 Wants, pr(»cured hin» a situation abroad, to which, with 
 a vi«w of escaping from bis creditors, he went under » 
 
 03 
 
162 VAtSINORE. 
 
 fictitious name ; and by these means you were induced 
 to credit the rumor of his death. 
 
 " It was durin.^ this interval that you reposed in me 
 your confidence, and that I became entrusted with the 
 property to which my uncle was legally entitled. That 
 1 had no suspicion of this fact is, however, not extra- 
 ordinary ; for as, with that discretion for which you are 
 so eminently conspicuous, you disclosed not Mrs. Wini- 
 fred's sirname, it was impossible 1 should arrive at such 
 a conclusion : I therefore entered into negotiations for 
 the estate, which appeared so desirable a purchase j but 
 of which, owing to the minority of one of the parties 
 concerned, no conveyance has been formally executed 
 in Mr. Altamont's favor. Whilst maturing your sug- 
 gestions for his advantage, without knowing why he 
 was thus selected, 1 received another application from 
 my unfortunate kinsman, who had returned to England 
 with a broken constitution, and was again pursued by a 
 merciless creditor, whom he had previously softened 
 with promises of payment. In this extremity he threw 
 himself on my charity ; and you will easily conceive I 
 was unable to resist the supplication. Sincerely did I 
 deplore the circumstances which rendered his introduc- 
 iiion to my own family impracticable ; heartily did I wish 
 it had been possible to shelter him under my own roof, 
 and to sooth the complicated sufferings of age and infirm- 
 ity. Precluded from this satisfaction, I procured him 
 an asylum within a few miles of my own house, where, 
 to escape the importunity of his creditors, he lived in 
 the strictest privacy, known only by tlie name of Framp- 
 ton, and only visited by a medical attendant. The state 
 of liis health excited most seiious alarm, and called for 
 every possible indulgence. To procure farther advice, 
 I clandestinely accompanied him to London, where the 
 first physician of the age pronounced his ease hopeless. 
 This sentence I cai-efully concealed, but redoubled my 
 former cares and attentions. 
 
 <* It was at this period that he communicated to me 
 many interesting partieulai^ of his wife Winifred, of 
 whom he had so long lost all traces^ that he suppo6e<Jl 
 
VALSINORE. 
 
 16S 
 
 licr io be dead. He had formerly been imformed, b> "* 
 an iniptirtiinate creditor, that she was possessed of 
 considerable property, the produce of a prize in the lot- 
 tery. He now received an anonymous letter to this pur- 
 port, from some person who liad penetrated his ficti- 
 tious name, and who intimated that this money had pass- 
 ed from hcrliands to those c^f a stranger. 
 
 *♦ He construed tiiis passaj^e into an intimation of 
 her death; and, to do him Justice, expressed mucli con- 
 trition for his former transgressions : yet, conceiving 
 himself somewiiat indebted to my kindness ; conceiving 
 too, tliat lie and liis heirs were at least as fully entitled 
 to tlic property as strangers, he caused a bond to be 
 executed in my favor, by whi; ii I should, at any tin)e. be 
 enabled to seize on the effects (whatever they might be) 
 so long sequestered from his use. 
 
 " It was at this i)eriod that, for the first time, I had 
 even a surmise that the person for whom 1 had acted as 
 a trustee was Mrs. Winifred. 1 resisted the suspicion •, 
 and on my return to Bcachdale, anxious to escape the 
 predicament in which I must be placed by such a con- 
 nection, 1 made no new researches, 1 used no means of 
 enquiry. I am persuaded \our memory will suj)ply a 
 thousand instances in which 1 have shunned the subject 
 I miglit have so easily elucidated. The discovery which 
 has at length taken place, was produced by means inde- 
 pendent of my agency, and appears to have been s(dely 
 the work of destiny. My unhappy kinsman was evi- 
 dently drawing near his end ; yet, with that sanguine 
 spirit which belongs to his malady, still cherisliing dreams 
 of recovery, and still sighing to prolong cxistenc*';. He 
 had heard of the salubrious air of the neighboring 
 downs. I removed him tiiitiier. He there heard aKsa 
 of an extraordinary young man, who was sii])posed to 
 possess some occult power, extending fiu* beyund the 
 limits of medical science. Mr. Satcliell was introduced 
 to him, and, unsuspected by me, induced Mrs. Winifred 
 to visit the dying patient. What followed was inevita- 
 ble. My unfortunate kinsman is now at rest. In the 
 last moments of life, heat once experienced the pai>ga 
 of remorse and the teiidcrucss of cousolatiou. 
 
^Q. TALSINOKE. 
 
 • "I now come to the most painful part of my task, 
 the publicity of this Iratisaction haviiii; rciuk'i'ed it im- 
 possible that 1 should continue to puiticipate in a legal 
 fraud. As heir-at-law, 1 am to perform the rigid duties 
 of an executor, which are, 1 conceive, in total opposi- 
 tion to the intended (h)naiion to Mr. Altamont. — Hajjpi- 
 ly the conveyances have not been executed in his name, 
 which will prevent some confusion : haj)'j)ily, too, your 
 incomparable prudence has v.ilhhehnVom him those ex- 
 pectations which must now inevitably terminate in dis- 
 app(>intment." 
 
 Hitherto Cell a had listened with some sentiments of 
 coni])lacency, but now she suddeidy broke forth : — 
 « For all tliifi, if he does not make it all over, he is the' 
 veriest wretch on earth !" She then snatched the letter 
 from Altamont, adding, *' Either he is a great man, or 
 a great villain." 
 
 " Good Mi*. Altamont," cried Winny, Hap])y had 
 it heen for me to have died ere it had come to this." 
 
 Here Altamont, touched by her distress, besought' 
 her to he comforted ; adding, that he should heartily re- 
 joice in Mr. De Lille's acrjuisition. 
 
 " How !" cried Celia, •' would you connive at itii- 
 quity and injustiee ? Was not this money obtained 
 through the bounty of others ? was it not destined through 
 your medium, to diffuse blessings to mankind ?" 
 
 " My dear friend, you are deceived by the ar- 
 dor of your affections. Had I sooner kno\vn in what 
 manner this property was ohtained, 1 .should kave, par- 
 don me, voluntarily declined a donation so i-epugnant' 
 to the nicer feelings of honor. I a«n not going to dis- 
 euss the principle of abstract right : 1 readily allow the' 
 laws are unjust, hut 1 scorn to evade them." 
 
 <* Ah, dear Miss Celia," cried Winny, why would' 
 yt)U not take it to yourself ? all had then been well. Mr. 
 De Lille indeed offers, in this letter, to settle part of it' 
 On you ; and he said something about compromising' 
 matters (that was his word witli Mr. Altamont j) any 
 thing to avoid a law suit." 
 
 <♦ Motliing," x'eturned Altamont, ** should induce me 
 
VAtSINORE. i65 
 
 to litigate with Mr. Dc Lille ; but I should fool dogra- 
 ded by listeni:ig to any terms of compromise. There 
 is here no difference, no arbitration necessary ; one jtulge 
 is sufficient ; the verdict is already given, and there lies 
 no other appeal." 
 
 <* Good, excellent young man !" ci*ied Winny ; " oh, 
 may you find your reward !'* 
 
 " Noble creature !" reiterated Celi a, forgetting even 
 disappointment in her admiration of his magnanimity; 
 "and can you so easily relinquish case, pleasure, inter- 
 «st, and love ?" 
 
 « The last word probably, recalled some painful im- 
 pressions to the mind of Altamont ; hut forcing a smile, 
 lie was about to answer her in a soothing strain, when 
 he perceived De Lille issuing from the park, and unwil- 
 ling to confront him at such an aukward moment, has- 
 tily withdrew, just in time to escape the renconter, re- 
 turningjby a circuitous route to Valiancy house. 
 
 Do Lille approached the Grange with no enviable 
 sensations. At the moment when he was felicitating 
 himself on the success of one stratagem he was baffled 
 in another ; Celia's premature discovery, by thwarting 
 his views of concealment, had wounded the stronger 
 passion of his little soul — his vanity ; and he came with 
 a determination either to win her to unbounded submis- 
 sion, or to provoke her to open enmity, lie found her 
 standing in front of the door, holding in her hand tl»e 
 half-read letter. Winny sat moaning in her easy chair, 
 and Aleck, wiio ftdlowod his steps, placed liimself on a 
 low stool in an opposite corner. On his entrance tliere 
 was a momentary pause. Celia waving her liand, said 
 « Well, Sir, I am sure you will do all that honor re- 
 quires ?" 
 
 <* I trust," replied he, ** I shall do my duty." 
 
 <* Tiie first duty is to fulfil your engagements ?" 
 
 He began to recapitidate the sum of his letter, which 
 Wlnny said liad been long since indited. She listened 
 witli downcast eyes, violently struggling with her angry 
 sensations. W' hen he spoke of Winny's fulfilling her 
 iutcntioiis in favor of Aleck, a smile of contempt partetl 
 
166 VAISINORE. 
 
 hor lips : wlicn lie alluded to terms of compromise M'ith Al- 
 taniont, her cheeks flushed, yet she coiitroiiied lier speech : 
 but when he ventured to repeat what he had also previous- 
 ously intimated, that he wished she also should receive a 
 gratuity, she raised her eyes, and vehemently exclaimed, 
 ♦* Jasper De Lille, my soul disdains thee ! measure not 
 your views with mine; oh, man of little faith and low 
 dcsii'i's ! Krjow, Altamont also contemns your pretended 
 terms of compromise ; keep the property you have pur- 
 loined from unsuspecting confidence and virtuous integ- 
 rity i keep your money, it is not for us — we barter not 
 our honor :" thentearing the letter, she strewed it over 
 the floor, adding, *' Thus be our friendship sundered 
 forever." De Lille attempted to sooth her, but she was 
 intractable. He then retorted her own breach of faith, 
 in having accelerated the discovery without his know- 
 ledge or approbation. Imjjatient of lebuke, she retort- 
 ed with acrimony, observing, if he was sincere in his 
 professions, he might administer to the property, and 
 restore it solely to Winny, who would know how to rCliu 
 derit ustfjil to society. 
 
 De Lille perceiving this was the critical moment, and 
 that since she could not be appeased she must be bravedj 
 fired at her insinuation, chafed again, and made the 
 breach eternal. Yet, on quitting the room, he had the 
 addrt ss to take Aleck aside, and to assure him, that had 
 be acceded to Celia's proposal, Mi-s. Winifred would be 
 accessiI)lo to othei* claimants, by wliom she must eventu- 
 ally he involved in a ruinous litigation. Then repeating 
 his offers of service, he left the house, happy to think him- 
 self rid, on so fair a pretext, of one who, as a friend, 
 mitrht ha\e made such claims on his generosity as he 
 was little disposed to allow ; and who was too notorious- 
 ly eccentric to have any power, as an enemy, to injure 
 his reputation. Yet his satisfaction was far from being 
 complete ; and scarcely could the pi'ospect of acquiring 
 so much property console him for the publication of his 
 real name and connexions. 
 
 His father and uncle were the two elder sons of a 
 Welsh curate, who struggled hard to maintain a numer*. 
 
 >^ 
 
VALSiyoits. 167 
 
 «»s family. The former was cnaljled, by the partial 
 munificeiice of a ii-aiiU'ii aunt, to obtain an cnsigncy j 
 his biother, u pinijiii, at the driidgei^ of an attorm y's 
 ofticc, t ntered the army also» but under very ditfercnt 
 aus]>ic<'s ; he enlisted; and, to the .i^iief of liis lather, 
 was sent ab!"oa<l before any efforts could be made for 
 pniciii ing his disehaii^e. The father of Jaspar embark- 
 ed for tlie East indits, and duiinj^the voyage captiva- 
 ted a >oung portionless lady, wiio was going out under 
 the protection of his colonel's lady. A clandesti)ie mar- 
 riage was the con.s<'quenee ; a reluctant reconciliation 
 wiihthi' lad} 's friends took place. 1 he young man was 
 beginning to hope foi* some advancement of fortune, 
 when he was carried offbj a coup de soldi, just after his 
 wife had brought into the world a son, who was called 
 Jas])ar. 
 
 It was not likely that so young a Midow sliould long 
 pine in weeds i lier protectress suggesbd that the infant 
 boy siiould be sert to England to the father's relations. 
 Tho widow resisted, till she was addressed by a man of 
 fortiMt , and tijen consented. Jaspar was conveyed to 
 Englan'l, remain* diliree years in Wales, and seemed 
 destined to pass his life in hun>ble obscurity. In the 
 meantime the younger Dc Lille had als(> met with his 
 adventures, and. having obtain<'d his discharge, was fi- 
 nally re-estaldished in his father's house. He became 
 fondly attached to his nephew , anM discovering that he 
 possessed a talent for music, cultivated it with such care, 
 that, before he was six years of age. he was distinguish- 
 ed by the appellation of the Little Minstr^^l. About thid 
 time his uncle learnt that Lis nsother, \\h<- since l»er hus- 
 band's ileath had formed a spl'-ndid estal)lishment, was 
 returned for ht*r health to Knglund, and resided at a 
 be.'»vUtiful seat in Sfnuej-si-tshire, Anxious for tho wel- 
 fare of liis brother's offspriijg, he contrived to intM.duce 
 him to his lady's manor ; pixsented lum as a pioligy in 
 music : and perceiving she was c-^ptivated «vitn bis skill, 
 divulged the relationship between them. Velatilr as she 
 >vits, she could n't be whollv insensiMe t(. the tender 
 pleadings of nuturc : and she fondly detained the boy to 
 
168 TAISINOKE. 
 
 be brought up witb her two other children, lavisliing on 
 him tlie vSiiiue luxuries, \^ithout reflecting that he wii» re- 
 serv* (i for a far (iiffercnt destiny. 
 
 Under Ik r auspices, Jaspar acquired elegance and flu- 
 eiic} , a keen relisl, for pleasure, an exquisite tact in cun- 
 ning, and above all, an inordinate degree of vanity. His 
 education was injudiciously expensive ; but his mother 
 flattered !i< iself she should be able to provide for him ad- 
 vantageously in India ; and she instilled into his ir»in(i the 
 same ag!veable expectations : but her unlooked foi* death 
 destroyed thes? first visions of youth. Jas])ar was left de- 
 pendent on the guardians of his half-brothers, whom he 
 seci-etly hated and envied, and by whom he was in turn 
 suspected and contemned : finally, he was dissmissed 
 with a thousand pounds, and an eiisigncy, and left to 
 shape Ids way to fortune. He was now almost an out- 
 cast on society, for as he was unwillingly owned by his 
 motlier's connexions, he co;dd scarcely bear to acknow- 
 ledge the remnants of his father's house. The curate 
 hac long since ])aid tlie debt of nature ; some of his des- 
 cendants were reduced to the lov/est station ; but his 
 uncle, the only being besides his mother who had ever 
 shewn him affection, still claimed a recognition, which 
 was yielded witfs reluctance. 
 
 After passing tlirough many vicissitudes, this man^ 
 at hngtli, became an itinerant player, in which situa- 
 tion he neither asked n*r received notice. Jaspar had 
 ambition, cr rather th a- vanity wiiich aspires t«) ambi- 
 tious distinction. Hig pr)fession giving no scope to his 
 passion, he took a tiip to Frar.c**, softening his name of 
 Lisle into De Lille. At Paris he engaged the affec- 
 tions of a lovely girl, who was just witiidrawn from the 
 convent, and destine d by her father, an English baronet, 
 for the son )t that la*ly inw!»ose house s'.ie was now an 
 inmote. To escape from an union to which she had con- 
 ceived an insu]>erabl- avt rsion, AJiss M .-rdaent listened 
 to De Lille's solicitation for a private maiTiage, 'ind ac- 
 coirr.panied him to Liirhtud, wiiere she was entitled to 
 ree-Mver. handsome iegacy/(vhich was eventually her 
 only fortune. 
 
VALSTNOHE. 169 
 
 The father incensed by this act of disobedience, and 
 shocked to discover that she was united to a man of h)\v 
 fan.ily, formally renounced his daugliter ; and tliat he 
 might not be tempted to i-evoke his vows, fixed liis resi- 
 dence on the Continent. 
 
 The De Lilies were in a few years reduced to indi- 
 gence ; the elegant Jaspar found it necessary to dispose 
 of his commission, and gratefully accepted that ambigu- 
 ous situati(»n whicii procuivd his final establishment with 
 Mrs. Valiancy. A short time previous to Jiis marriage, 
 he was api)allcd by an application from his uncle, and 
 eagi'riy purchased his silence and dismission, by procu- 
 ring for him an appointment in the \S'est Indies. Du- 
 ring his absence, it was reported that he was dead ; and 
 it was under this pei"suasion, that Celia consulted De 
 Lille on the means of purchasing an estate for AUa- 
 rinont. 
 
 The i*eturn of Lisle to England, his ill health, the 
 persceutioji of his creditor, his supplications to his ju'os- 
 perous nephew, and the relief he obtained, all liappoied 
 precisely as he had detailed in his letter to Mrs. Glad- 
 Min. His first stipulation for concealment was prompt- 
 ed by vanity ,^but to this was soon added a stronger mo- 
 tive of interest. He had originally accepted Celia's 
 confidence, for the pleasure of exciting her enthusiasm 
 and rec«ivi)ig her adulation. He ha(l paid little atten- 
 tion to her ravings of Altamont, and undertook to pro- 
 inot<^ her views, purely to ha^ c the. edat of disinterested 
 generosity. But in conversing with his uncle, he was 
 apprized of circumstances which soon convinced him, 
 that this destitute kinsman was the husband of Mrs. 
 Winifred. His vic\> s were then soon extended. Vani- 
 ty was almost supplanted by cupidity, and he w as solely 
 occupied in devising plans for securing to himself the 
 fnr»ncy, so ^nvitiugly placed within his reach. His first 
 impulse was to divulge the transaction to his uncle ; but 
 on second thoughts, he reflected that he might not be 
 Tienefited by securing his independence ; that the pro- 
 peity might be disposed of among por.rer relations; and 
 that in this case he should have sacrificed his own repu- 
 
 P 
 
170 VALSINORE. 
 
 tation without obtaining a recompence. In this dilem- 
 ma of selfishness !.f had recouise to a refined and elabo- 
 rate system of artifice. He afftcted to feel for his un- 
 cle the most affectionate solicitude, and besought him to 
 remain on that sequstered spot, for the facility of fre- 
 quent communication. 
 
 The eld«n' Lisle, whose health was really in a perilous 
 state, and who had been chastened by adversity, was not 
 insensible to kindness, and readily acqjicsced in tlic sug- 
 gestion. As his malady gained ground, De Lille thought 
 proper to convey to him some intimati >ns of his wife's 
 clandestine wealth. An anonymous letter was fabricated 
 for ihis purpose, wliic.h being received in London, and 
 at the time he was staying there with his nephew to re- 
 ceive medical advice, rendered iiim anxious to return 
 to liis former retreat. De Lille confirmed him in the 
 persuasion that his wife was dead, and that the proper- 
 ty ha<i passed into other hands. He lamented the cir- 
 cumstances which must render any personal interference 
 on his part hazardous to his personal security, and sug- 
 gested the expedient of a bond being given to himselfyj 
 which, should any traces of the effects be discovered, j 
 ■would enable him to take the most rigorous measures I 
 for their recovery. With this proposal tlie elder Lisle, 
 wh«! could have no suspicion of his latent \iews, cordial- 
 ly acquiesced, and the legal instrument was accordingly 
 put into De Lille's possession. 
 
 On the patient's return to the Heath, he grew worse ; 
 and as Celia began to manifest great impatience, De 
 X»ille determined to bring about the «liscovei'y, by means 
 so simple and apparently so natural, that no evidence 
 should be adduced of his immediate interference. The 
 removal to the White House, the mention of Aleck, and 
 the final interview, all followed in due course ; and as 
 Celia ha(' always withheld from him Winifred's sirname,iil 
 he took advantage of that circumstance to disclaim alllii 
 consciousness of the relationship between them. Ii 
 
 In withholding the estate from Altamont, he was shel- 
 tered, not mrr-^ly by the privilege of being heir-at-law, 
 fcut by the specious plea, that were he to relinquish hi» 
 
valsinore;. 17i 
 
 •wri rights, he could not annul tliose of the other rela- 
 tions. He was aware, that he iiiii^lftsaf<4y oiler a com- 
 pensation to Altaniont, whose I igh spiiit would ii ver 
 stooj) to incur ju'cuniarv oblit^ations. To the accusations 
 of such a fantastic being as Ctlia, he attached little ini- 
 poi'tance. Sle>' iiad certainly been accessary to a legal 
 fraud, a charge which was revolving to tho public car. 
 Romantic generosity was al\va^ s scanned by the w >rM 
 with suspicious distrust ; andexpfMifnc miglit load hiiu 
 to expict, not otily to divert censtne from liis own c n- 
 duet, but to (ix it on the very person who had been du- 
 ped by his artiiicc and duplicity. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 DE LILLE had at first disliked Altamont, from the 
 idea tiuit he was an impediment to his views of interest ; 
 he then distrusted him from the consciousii'^ss, tl'.at he 
 was himself undeser>'ing of confidence ; and he nov/ ha- 
 ted him, from the conviction that lie was one wh(»m he 
 had injured, and from whom he could not extort esteem. 
 Vanity was always his master-spring of action ; and 
 this restless passion now suggested another motive for 
 augmenting his prejudice to Altamont. He had not been 
 blind to Sii" Frederic's passion for Cordelia; and as lie 
 appeared to him in many respects more disirable, as a 
 son-in-law, than Valiancy, he often contemplated, with 
 raj)turc, the probability of so splendid an alliance. 
 From the combination of these circumstances he was 
 greatly displeased to obsei-ve the lovcr-Iike appearance 
 of Altamont and his daughter, whose ciicumspection 
 had hitherto eluded his vigilance. No sooner, therefore, 
 had he dismissed the latter, than he haughtily asked, if 
 Altamont participated in the sentiments of his friend, 
 Mrs. Gladwin? Altamont repli* d, that excellent as 
 ilshe was, he must disown ma)iy of her prejudices j and 
 
 Pj2 
 
172 YALSINOHB. 
 
 then, with a grace, a candor, a frankness, which it 
 was scarcely possible to resist, disclaimed all pretensi- 
 ons to the property in rpirstion. De Lille compliment- 
 ed his liberality ; but not doubting that he expected from 
 Cordelia his reward, was more than ever desirous to 
 expel from his liouse so dangerous an inmate. Unluck- 
 ily too for Akamont, he happeiicd to express his satis- 
 faction, that Aleck was to be benefited from Winifred's 
 liberality. De Lille's vanity was instantly offended, 
 and when the ingenuous advocate added, that he trusted, 
 her interest in the property was secured under every 
 possible contingency, he coolly rejdied, the whole would 
 be submitted to tlie arbitration of Mr. Quintin and Sir 
 Frederic Mowbray, through whose medium he wished 
 to offer to him some recompence for his disappointed ex- 
 pectations. Altamont negatived the proposal with so 
 much spirit, that Dc Lille's pride was wounded ', and, 
 in spite of himself, he envied and esteemed, where he 
 hated and contemned. 
 
 Daring this conference, Mr. Quintin having heard 
 the story from Aleck, came purposely to talk of it, and 
 to his great delight, found his news had not been fore- 
 stalled. His details were not long, — but his comments 
 were most copious. He expatiated with delight on the 
 ignorance of women in business, and their incompetence 
 to any transaction of real importance. His dogmas 
 M ere no longer controverted by Adela } and he had no ] 
 other interru])tion tlmn that of seeing his auditors one | 
 by one glide away. Mrs. De Lille, agitated by doubt j 
 and hope, wont in quest of her husband. Cordelia, i 
 ovei'whelmcd with various feelings, withdrew" to her i 
 chamber. Valiancy, also, having loudly inveighed 
 against De Lille's duplicity, rushed out to deposit his 
 indignation with his injured friend. Adela too rose, 
 and Mr. Quintin, not relishing a tete-a-tete, returned 
 to the Abbey. 
 
 Valiancy found Altamont reading a letter, which ap- 
 peared to have deeply affected him. He put it into his 
 friend's hands, saying, «< My mother is i)erhaps by this 
 time again a widow, in a land of strangers." The le^< 
 
tcr was written by a friend ; and announced that Mr. 
 Bruce was so ill, in consequence of a paralvtic seizure, 
 that a few hours micjht probably terminate his existence. 
 In addition too to this melancholy intellij^ence, it con- 
 tained an intimation, that, owin^ to tlie neglect of some 
 legal formalities, it was doubted whether Mis. Bruce 
 might not forfeit the income, which ijcr husband had in- 
 tended to be a provision in hrr f;ivor. 
 
 « You see, theref»)re," sai<l Altainont, liowmuch my 
 presence is re(]iiirod. My mother is so ill fitted for such 
 struggles, that even with my assistance, she will almost 
 siiik under grief and care. I have therefore not ono 
 moment to lose, and must instantly proceed to London." 
 '• I will accompany you thither," cried Valiancy, 
 touched with gen. line sympathy, adding with a new 
 perception of delicacy, *» I was already going; and bu» 
 for you, must have had a solitai'y journey." Altamont; 
 thanking him for the kindtiess, began making the neces- 
 sary preparations for his dep;irture, whilst Valiancy or • 
 
 . dereil his phfeton with all possible expedition. 
 
 ' This second news spread with no less rapiility than 
 the first ; and when Altamont. fully equipt for his jour- 
 ney, ivturned to the parloi-, with the single exci'iHion 
 of De Lille, he foinid the whsile family assendiled. SVitli 
 what different feelings did he now ap{)roach that sofa, 
 on which he had so lately sat indulging every dear ro- 
 mantic vision of hope and love. Ahsorbed in the idea 
 of his mother's sufterings, he entered with a mild com- 
 posed asjieet, and paid his farewell compliments to Mrs. 
 De Lille and Miss Rouvigny, ^^irh dignity and projiii- 
 cty. Flitlierto his eyes had n'>t sought Cordelia ; but ho 
 suddenly perceived her leaning against the window, in 
 a distant corner of the apartment, lie approached witU 
 a serene, though melanch(dy, smile, which seemed to 
 attest his r signation ; but, when he saw her pale looks, 
 and touched her cold trembling hand, the artificial snulo 
 vanished; th'- heart almost ff)rced a tear; and, with a 
 gl.ince that sp>ke volames, he said, in a low 
 voice, « Cordelia !" then, breaking away, be followed 
 his friend to the carriage. They stopt but for two 
 
 f 3 
 
i74f TALSINORE* 
 
 minutes at tho Grange, to apprize Mrs. Gladwin of tlK-ii^ 
 sudden departure ; and then proceeded with tlie utmost 
 expedition to London* 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 .« 
 
 *.. 
 
 T'JEVER, since early youth, had Altaraont and Val» 
 fancy been so truly cordial, as during tliis journey. The 
 recollection of theii* recent difference served only to en- 
 dear tlieir present union. It impressed Valiancy with 
 augmented, respect, aiul disposed Altamont to be mope 
 affectionate, lest he should seem to harbor any remain- 
 ing resentment.. Valiancy poured fortli invectives against 
 De Lille, demanding of Altamont, when he should havo 
 suggested any thing in extenuation of his conduct, if he 
 «ould defend his duplicity to Mrs. Gladwin I 
 
 *< Certainly not." 
 
 *• And woidd you have taken advantage of the most 
 crooked part in the law, to steal a fortune to M'hich youb' 
 liad na right 2" 
 
 ** Nay, never appeal to me," rejoined Altamont^ 
 pained to hear any thing to the prejudice of De Lille, 
 ifthom he still wished to respect as tliC father of Corde- 
 Sa; Fet us, rather taJli of my mother." 
 
 Valiancy remembered lier affectionately^ and, though 
 checked by the recollection of liis fiiend's late assertion, 
 that should he ever be tin-own on adversity, he could no 
 longer find anchorage iu his affection, ventured to inti- 
 mate, tliat he should in future expect to be admitted to 
 a friend's most hon«,>rabIe privilege* 
 
 Altamont easily gupssing his intentions, replied, that 
 lie was just going to solicit his assistance^ Valiancy's 
 eyes sparkled with pleasure 
 
 " Yes^ I must make you my bondsman, to fulfil the 
 engagements I had formed in my own ujind with Mrs^ 
 Woodvillef for 1 have been romantic enough to dispose 
 
VALSINORE. ±7B 
 
 of part of my visionary property before it came into my 
 possession." 
 
 ** Tias is the kindest thing you ever said to me. What 
 shall I give her ?'' 
 
 ** I had intended to remit to her for the present year 
 60 or 801." 
 
 " Pooh, I owe Woodville lOOl. for having neglected 
 liim ; here's a i30l. hill, and a draft on my banker to the 
 same amount i take them both, and in future suffer me, 
 as you have often chidik'n my itileness, to pursue the 
 profession of a banker to one individual, at least." He 
 stopt, checked by the gravity of his fiiend's aspect, " I 
 am pleased with this importunity, since it is so honora- 
 ble to your feelings^ that it ought not to be unwelcome to 
 mine; but you know my sentiments on this stibject, and 
 they are innnutable," Then fearing lest his friend should 
 think he retained any latent displeasure, he forced a 
 smile, and began talking of Miss Houvigny. 
 
 " Unparalleled coquette !" exclaimed Valiancy.— 
 *' And do you really think she is well affected to me E 
 Come, come, you don't believe she loves me." 
 
 « Put that to tlie test, and don't triile with happi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Happiness ! 'tis so ridiculous, — and this is the very 
 girl I liad determined to dislike." 
 
 " For which very reason you are bound to make her 
 ample reparatiofi." 
 
 " Wliy, yes, I begin to think there's a fatality in it, 
 as Mrs. Gladwin says ; yet the little witcli is not beau- 
 tiful, — she is so low of stature." 
 
 *' So is the Venus de Medicis."' 
 
 ** Then her visage is so round." 
 
 " Doubtless you have never seen her dimples." 
 
 " Siu> certainly is not half so handsome as Cordelia." 
 
 To this remark Altamont made no irj<»inder^ Val- 
 iancy resumed. 
 
 " Apropos, — I never told you Sir Frederic has at 
 length obtained a dispensation for taking a second wife. 
 He received the account of Lady Mowbray's death yes- 
 terday, and for that reason was not of our party in th& 
 
176 VAISIJfORB. 
 
 eveninj^. It is, perhaps, well for me she did not set him 
 at liberty sooner, he might have angled for Adela in- 
 stead of Cordelia.'* 
 
 Altaraont had, two hours before, believed he could 
 renounce hope ; love, for the moment, yielding to the 
 imperious dictates of nature ; but he now felt an unut- 
 terable pang, which convinced him, that if he should re- 
 sign hope, he could not escape fear 5 and that jealousy, 
 at least, had stiil access to his bosom. His emotion was 
 not perceived by his coin])anion ; who, liaving returned 
 to the subject of Miss Rouvigny, after all his affected 
 disparagement, became fluent in her praise, and found 
 the tlieme so copious, that it was not half exhausted 
 AvJien they reached London. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 HAPPY to escape from the restraints of uncongenial 
 society (for how can sorrow sympathize with hope,) Al- 
 tamont, leaving Valiancy at the hotel, proceeded imme- 
 diately with the offering of his munificence to Mrs. 
 \VoodvilIe's lodging. It was situated in an obscure court, 
 surrounded liki^ a prison by other buildings; and it was 
 not without difficulty that he ascertained which was her 
 penurious habitation. He entered by a low^ door, and 
 Ijaving descended by a diily staircase to the second 
 floor, was ushered into a small room of the most gloomy 
 aspect; its close unwholesome atmosphere seemed loaded 
 M ith care, and on the smoky walls you might trace the 
 dreariness of desolation, dai'kened by the shadows of 
 disapiwintment ; yet in spite of the low ceiling and tat- 
 tered carpet, the three or four rush-bottomed chairs, and 
 the crazy wainscot table, it exhibited some indications 
 of taste and refinement : a few j)erishing flowers ap- 
 I)eai'ed in a glass goblet 5 a few shells were arranged on 
 
VALSINORE. 177 
 
 tlie niantlcpiccc, and some elegantly sketched patterns 
 were strewn on tlieflooi-. 
 
 Mrs. Woodville was fondly hanging over one sick 
 child, and endeavoring to appease the clamor of the 
 other. At the sight of a stranger she started, and a 
 faint color tinged her pale cheeks ; but her eyes bright- 
 ened when Altamont announced his name ; and she ea- 
 gerly exclaimed, yes, she had often heard her husband 
 speak of him. Gratified by this proof of remembrance, 
 he now enquired when she had parted from Woodville, 
 and when she hoped to hear of him. She sighed deeply 
 at these enquiries, and confessed she scarcely hoped to 
 hear till he should be arrived in the West Indies. " I 
 will, then, transfer to you Madam, the commission I am 
 charged with, and which has occasioned you to be trou- 
 bled "witli this visit." 
 
 Mrs. Woodville turned pale ; for she had been so long 
 accustomed to calamity, that she fancied in every object 
 the liarbinger of evil. 
 
 *< 1 hope, Sir," said she, and she paused and trem- 
 bled. 
 
 *» A friend of mine, who has been long indebted to 
 Mr. Woodville, retui-ns you this in part of payment." 
 
 A weight seemed removed from lier heart — her respi- 
 ration was again free, she begged him to be seated, flew 
 to readi him a chair, and a])ologized for tlie homeliness 
 of his reception. One other cliildren had been danger- 
 ously ill, and slie was most anxious to remove to the coun- 
 try for his recovery : this she hoped now to do, Alta- 
 mont instantly presented to hei' the pocket-book, a be- 
 nevolent expression beaming in his countenance. 
 
 She to«)k the book respectfully, but seemed loath to 
 examine its contents, unwilling, perhaps, to discover the 
 precise limitation to those latent hopes which once more a- 
 rose in her bosom. She then spoke of her Woodville ; and 
 looking as if there was something she feared, yet longed 
 to communicate, added, «• Yes, indeed, Sir, your name 
 is familiar to me j we shall ever have occasion to re- 
 member it." 
 
 Altamont expressed his chagrin at his fiiend's es- 
 
178 VALSINORE, 
 
 trangement. Mrs. Woodvillc frankly confessed that 
 tliey liad lately known many cares, but she trusted tlie 
 worst was over. " But wliy should I not tell you all ? 
 my husband was lately on the brink of a jnison, >vlien 
 some friend of yours—some angel in the fonn of man, 
 who had heard of him through you, paid the bill, and 
 set him at libeity." 
 
 Altamont had no difficulty in attributing this benevo- 
 lence to Haller, but he was surprised he had remained in 
 London so long after his supposed departure. On fur- 
 ther enquirj, he learnt that Woodville had seen him on 
 the very day when he was committed to the Fleet ; and 
 that he had no sooner asked his name, than he enquired 
 if he was not acquainted with Altamont. He had then 
 dismissed tiie writ, and loft a small sum for their imme- 
 diate relief. On the same day Woodville liad met with 
 an old acquaintance, wlio offered him the clfoice of going 
 to the West Indies. Haller had changed their d« siiny, 
 and Mrs. Woodville gratefully im])uted every thing to 
 his influence ; yet she seemed ciinscious that, in thus 
 frankly disclosing tlieir distress, she had offended her 
 husband's scrupulous delicacy ; and she confessed (color- 
 ing deeply) he had not wisiied these particulars shoidd 
 be communicated to Altamont ; not that he was un- 
 thankful, but he was always so much afraid to appear 
 intruding. " But had he seen you," she rejoined, "I 
 am sure his gratitude could not have been suppressed." 
 
 Altamont, wishing to relieve her embarrassment, des- 
 cribed Haller*s character, and related in what manner 
 he had been introduced to his acquaintance. At the 
 name of Beachdale, Mrs Woodville smiled i and how 
 soon was her satisfaction reflected to Altamont, when 
 he learnt that the place to wliich she purposed going was 
 no other than the White House, on that favorite hill 
 from which she might descry the mansion that contained 
 Cordelia. 
 
 There was instantly a revulsion in his feelings ; he 
 was again only sensible to hope and love ; and whilst 
 Mrs. Woodville, now yielding to unreserved frankness, 
 mentioned her having been lately employed in drawing 
 
TAlSISrORE. 1^9 
 
 patterns, an occupation which, as soon as she should be 
 8uj)plie(] MJtli orders, she couM pursue with c(ju;il ad- 
 vanta,i^o in town oi cu;tnti'y, Altaniont, scarcely hciuing 
 what shr said, ncolhcted that she might find a Itenc- 
 factress in Cordelia — recnlhctcd too that he couhi not 
 have wished for a ntore ha[»py moment to address her. 
 Elated with tliie thoui^ht, lie suddenly interrupted iter, 
 to desire she should convey a note to Miss De l WW, to 
 introduce her to Valiancy House ; and in the same bnatli 
 extoited a promise, that sh< should transmit some ac- 
 count of iuM'si'lf and iiis friends immediat''ly on her ar- 
 rival. At this moment it occurred to him, that he had 
 another pretext r>;' oritin!!? to Cordelia, havintr in his 
 pireipitation h'ft behind liim tlie legend of Cuiin lius. 
 He was clieered by this ivfieetion, nierely because it 
 eecnjed to form a link of commm\ic.iti ju i)etween them, 
 and gladly accepted pen and ink for his Jirst billet to 
 Cordelia. 
 
 He was now reused fiom his pleasing abstraction by 
 an exclamation from M; s. Woodville ; who having at 
 length. Mpcn'Ml the pocket-book, was rapturously con- 
 templating its contents S!»e ga/ed on the hills ; turned, 
 examined th'Mn ; and being at length satisfied that it was 
 n<> illusion, caught lier children in her arms, and, to 
 make tiiem p irtake hei- Jovs. lavished Ifer caresses. But 
 her <ra';s])orts were cheeked by the reflection that her 
 \\)odvill" could not share her happiness. She grieved 
 that he Iiad not h.'en provided with more comforts for 
 his voyage j yei she was consoled by thinking, that she 
 coijld easily ss nd <«ut any artieks he wanted. Then 
 slie reeoilectec' !iis debts, and she l« nged to de<licate the 
 viiiole sum to dise;:i>rge theui i but, looking on her two 
 sickly ehildren, she believed il sent by heaven for their 
 aid and preservation. Hhe »m;( a thousand uses for the 
 gift, and each of them \N as sacred. 
 
 Altaoiojit. ^t/(mgh r. ciinded of his mother's trials, 
 eouhl wit'i dll'Aculty restrj'in his tears ; but having uiged 
 his req-usi to lu^ar of !vlf hvi JJeaehdale fji-ncis when 
 Mrs. SVoodvi'i^ shou!'"' hv s' IiUmi la her new habivation, 
 and comuiitteU Ids address to the pocket-book (precious 
 
180 VAISIIfOTlE. 
 
 depository of her new treasure.) he took his leave, and 
 returned to the hotel witli his heart lightened of lialf its 
 carrs. 
 
 He was preparing to reward Yallancy with the de- 
 scription of iSIrs. Woodvillc's raptures, but found, to 
 Ids surprise, that he was leaving London, having been 
 summoned to attend his grandfatlier by a special mes- 
 senger, who had followed him from Beachdale. ** I 
 must hurry away, my friend, aiid have only time to beg 
 you to present this trifling token of remembrance to 
 your mother, (putting into his hand a lai'ge gold snuff- 
 box.) and let her not cease to remember ber hare-brain- 
 ed Yallancy. As brief parting, like a quick operation, 
 is the best, we must now separate : there will soon be 
 tides between us ; but remember, as tiiere are some 
 things you cannot forgive, there is one being I can ncA^- 
 er forget. Farewell." 
 
 Witb these words he shook hands with his friend, and 
 hurried away, leaving him surprised, but not displea- 
 sed, at his abrupt departure. He was. indeed, relieved 
 by his absence, since it gave him liberty to meditate on 
 Cordelia. Willing, however, not to neglect Ins friend's 
 memorial to his mother, he took up the snuff-box, but 
 found it fastened by a secret spring, which resisted his 
 efforts to open. Accident, in this case, effected more 
 than exertion. Happening to let tbe box fall, the spring 
 was touched by the shock, lie saw the lid open, and ini» 
 mediately <hew out an elegant gold purse, on the ribr, 
 bon appended to which was delicately wrought the naw^ 
 of Sir Frederic Mowbray. This name was of all otiiers 
 the least acceptable to xAltamont ; but fis he recollected 
 to have seen the purse in Mrs. De Lille's fingers, he 
 had not a doubt that it had been inclosed in the box by 
 some mistake of Valiancy, whose volatile temper render- 
 ed him perpetually lialde to commit such bhrndej-s. His 
 immediate impulse, therefore, was to restore it to the 
 right owner ; and inclosing it in a blank paper, proper- 
 ly directed, he imnudiatcly took it to Mrs. Woodville, 
 whose wretched lodging was not far from tho. hotel. 
 
 In this second brief interview he reiterated his entrea- 
 
 I 
 
TALSIIfOR?;. ISl 
 
 ties that she should write ; and she, imputing all this 
 solicitude to his affectionate interest for her W'oodville, 
 thanked him again and again ; and, happy to relieve 
 her grateful heart, by performing for him even the small- 
 est service, received the purse with mingled pride and 
 joy, promising to guard this secojul deposit with no less 
 fidelity than that to which she owed so many blessings. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FOR a few days Beachdale appeared deserted. Sir 
 Frederic thought proper to absent himself from Valian- 
 cy House, and spent that interval in London, whilst 
 Mrs. Gladwin i-cturned to lier friends in Cumberland. 
 Dc Lille found himself in an aukward predicament iu 
 providing for his deceased kinsman's interment. To 
 avoid the mortification of making a public acknowledg- 
 ment of their consanguinity at Beachdale, he caused his 
 remains to be removed to a vdlage fifteen miles distant, 
 wliich hapjiened t<» be the next parish to the lonely house 
 in which he had so long resided. The funeral was con- 
 ducted witli all possible privacy ; but now a second dif- 
 ficulty might iiave occurred with regard to mourning; 
 happily, however, most happily as he thofight, a prince 
 ^f the blood had just paid the debt of nature, and al- 
 most the meanest subject, from the poor paralytic in her 
 easy chair to the child lisping tlie alphabet, was invest- 
 ed with the sable garb. The only remaining difficulty 
 was in what manner to behave to his uncle's widow, who 
 certaiidy was entitled to some consideration from the 
 family; but he had the satisfaction ♦<» t^«ul t!iat V/inny 
 prized independence far beyond such an biguous honors. 
 She had always feared Mrs. De Lille, and in spite of 
 liis friendly professions, harbored, she knew not hy, 
 some distrust of her husband's sincerity. With regafd 
 to the discovery, she was satisfied that it was purely ac- 
 
 Q 
 
18S VALSINORE. 
 
 cidental ; and her husband being now dead, she felt fl« 
 much soflem-d towards liis memory, that had Altatijtmt 
 been rewarded, and Miss Cclia satisfieiU slic wouhl not 
 have been sorry to enrich his relations. Two circiim- 
 stanees consjared to render her thus indulg;ent j thu fii-st, 
 that Aleck, who secretly liked Mrs. iiladwin less than 
 any human being, had been flattered and conciliatt d by 
 the De Lilies; the second, that Cordelia who, from the 
 sweetness of her nature, always lavished endearing at- 
 tentions on age and infirmity, wjis, in her eyes (after 
 Aleck,) the most engaging of all human beings ; and the 
 affection irresistibly inspired by the daughter, extorted 
 some complacency for the father. Then, with regard 
 to the property, slie was perfectly satisfied with the 
 shai'e allotted to her ; and as De Lille, anxious for his 
 reputation in this single instance, secured her interests 
 in the estat(-, the conveyance of which was now duly ex- 
 ecuted, she seemed much richer than she had ventured 
 to be whilst the money was locked up for Altamont. Nor 
 was she insensible to the privilege of being able to hoard 
 for Aleck's sake, and repeatedly wished Miss^ Celia 
 eould be as well pleased as herself. 
 
 In the meanwhile, De Lille suggested to Alecks 
 through the medium of Mr. Quintin, a strong desire to 
 visit other countries. To gratify this inclination, it was 
 necLSsary that he should acquire some otlier language 
 than latin and English ', and to facilitate this acquisition^ 
 good Mrs, Winifred, as she was still called, consented 
 to leave Beachdale, to which she had conceived a super- 
 «titiO'is prejudice since her husband's death, and cheer- 
 fully accompanied him to London; where, resuming 
 her former habits of activity, she officiated as his house- 
 keeper and seamstress, hoarding for his sake, and de- 
 dicating the fruits of her economy to his future good ; 
 jei still reserving a p<)rtion for her dear Miss Celia; 
 and always speculating on some second prize which, in 
 the revolutions of fortune's wheel, should turn up fot 
 Altf>.n»ont. Aleck was the object of her tenderest care, 
 her fiindest hopes ; i»ut hej' heart was peculiarly formed 
 fur gratitude and affection^ and ebe deeply regretted 
 
VAXSiyORS. 18* 
 
 that her beloved benefactress slioiild liavc been so erncl- 
 ly disaj»j)()iiited on tlie veiA' verge of onlVi-riii^- In-iKTits 
 and enjuyincut on Altamoiit, v.liose nu'rits wei-e additi- 
 onally apparent from his invariable attention to the ob- 
 ject of her own fond partiality. 
 
 The deseition of so many of the inliabitants of Beach- 
 dale threw a tem])orary gloom over the scene ; and for 
 ten days Valiancy House had scarcely any other visitor 
 than Mr. Quintin ; the young member being still de- 
 tained, much against his will, by his grandfather ; and 
 the wary Sir Frederic still remaining, for the sake of 
 decorum, in London. On his i*eturn to the Abbey, he 
 became impatient to observe hovv Cordelia bore her se- 
 pai'ation from Altamont. At the (list glance, she ap- 
 peared not more thoughtful than Adela, who certainly 
 sighed for more company ; but he soon discovered in 
 her mild, uncomplaining look, a quiet, unrepining sor- 
 row, a placid yet settled dejection. She affected not to 
 tlecline society ; she continued to listen with complacen- 
 cy, but spoke with reluctance ; assersting to the opini- 
 ons of her companions without interest, and smiling at 
 their spiightly sallies with«)ut gladness. Sir Frederic's 
 jealousy was now envenomed by wo;;jided pride and vin- 
 dictive resentment : and to undermine this absent favor- 
 ite in her esteem, to strike at the very roots of her bi- 
 goted attachment, became almost as much the object of 
 ambition as of love. But whatever hatred he might 
 nourish against x\ltamont, he was too well practised in 
 dujdicity to have any difficulty in disguising his senti- 
 ments ; and artfully contrived, by significant looks and 
 half-i)roken sentences, to insinuate his regrets for the 
 past, and to impress her with the beli'^f, t'-at he did jus- 
 tice to her early preceptor ; but he was once indiscreet 
 enough to speak of him with compassion. 
 
 Cordelia's cheeks glowed with indignation, as she 
 coolly replied, that " A man of talents ought not to ex- 
 cite pity, but admiration." 
 
 <* oil, I merely mean that he has no profession, a 
 aituatini of ?11 oihcrs most p^^rilous to a young man of 
 quick parts and generous feelings.*' 
 
 Q2 
 
 ^i. 
 
184r VALSINORE. 
 
 " He is not too old, sir, to acquire that distinction.** 
 
 Sir Frederic dropt the subject with the unwelcome 
 conviction, that this was no ordinary love, no evanescent 
 impression of youth, but an ardent, enthusiastic senti- 
 ment. Yet was he less than ever disposed to renounce 
 hope. His passion w^as irritated by opposition j and 
 sometimes he was so much provoked to find how little be 
 could give her pleasure, that he almost wislied for tlie 
 privilege of inflicting pain. The return of Valiancy re- 
 stored gaiety and animation to Beachdale. He, at first, 
 so far resented De Lille's conduct, as to take up his 
 quarters at the Abbey ; but the representations of Sir 
 Frederic, and \v!iat was more, the secret influence of 
 Adela, induced him to forbear noticing the duplicity of 
 De Lirfe ; and though lie no longer made Valiancy House 
 his home, he was almost its constant guest. 
 
 At first, Adela, who had hcen unusually serious evep 
 gince Altamont's departure, and whovse gravity some- 
 times created a most painful sympathy in Cordelia, ap- 
 peared not to resume her animation ; and even became 
 more serious than she had been in his absence. But one 
 <!ay, following Cordelia into her favorite retreat, (the 
 classical pavilion,) she exclaimed with all her native 
 gaiety, " Would 1 had a confessor, in you, Cordelia." 
 
 " I fancy your transgressions are of no very serious 
 nature ; conscience has at least no power over your 
 smiles." 
 
 (' No, my dear, I have not the grace to feel peni- 
 tence. 1 have sinned because I was a woman ', and yet 
 I am half sorry to have played false to you." 
 
 " Played false to me, that is impossible ! What can 
 you mean ?" 
 
 « WHiy, I understand from my trusty Cerberus, 
 Quintin, that Mis. C*'lia Gladwin, that nectar cup of 
 conlirience, the cVsain bearer of Cupijcl, as Valiancy says, 
 took it into her head 1 was sighing for Altamont; now 
 I do really and vevil v believe you were of the same opin- 
 ion. Nay, now 1 ara sure you did, by that blusli, so 
 don't he honest by halves. You really were cheated as 
 much as Celia." 
 
tAlSINORE. i;85 
 
 «♦ If I had not perceived your attentions to liini I must 
 have heen hood-winked." 
 
 <* Hood-winked you must have heen, to tliink I ca- 
 red for him ; do you tliink I wouhl stoop to con(|uer ? 
 No, the excess of my attention was the first symptom 
 of my indifFcrcnce." 
 
 " 1 perceive you do indeed want a confessor, Adela 
 hut really cannot in conscience .e:ivc yoti ahsohition." 
 
 »* And will you cnu'lly piMsist in giving that vile name 
 of coquetry to the cliaiming art of pleasing? An art, 
 Cordelia, so Ihie, so elegant, so liberal, and ahovc all, 
 so natural : — how can you be so censorious ?" 
 
 ** Out suppose vou should have endangered his tran- 
 quillity ?'' "■ ., /,v 
 
 ** It is perfectly impossible : he is too dignifiewoRe a 
 lover; as Heatricc says, he istoo finef<ir an every-day 
 suit, and slsould only he worn on Sundays. Not hut if 
 one was pt ilVctly at hisure, or shut np with him in a 
 snow stoi-m, it might be worth while to try how far such 
 a sublime !)eing was penetrable. — Apropos, Cordelia, I 
 have-a most important question, whether it is moie flat- 
 tering to make sucli a man look silly, or a gay, volatile, 
 airy creatuiv, grave ? — Or shall I put it in more learned 
 terms, to dissolve the gold, or fix the quicksilver ? There'» 
 a problem for your philosopliy.*' 
 
 ** Tiiat problem you ha\ e alreadj'^ resolved, by ex- 
 perimenting on Altamont and Valiancy." 
 
 ** Tliere again, you arc quite mischievous this morn- 
 ing. — What has a question of philosophy to do with Val- 
 iancy ? Iha\en knows there is little in him; he is all 
 impulse aiul caprice ; never has a reason to act on | 
 likes or dislikes, he knows not why, and cares not 
 wherefore ; angry or pleased for any thing or nothing, 
 just as fancy sways him; and for his talents, thougli, 
 to be sure, he is not stinted by nature, he stems to use 
 them as the old Indians did their gold, merely for trink- 
 ets and baubles to play with, Oli, he has a legion of 
 fauKs, it would require more arithmetic than 1 am mis-- 
 tress of to count them.'* 
 
 ♦• And for wliicb of them do you like hioi best V' 
 
 4* 
 
186 VAISINOEE. 
 
 «< Pafienco forl>id T sbould like him for any of them ! 
 "Why I have hotn i'siug my bc^st endeavors to correct tlie 
 creature ; imCt leiiilv, Cor(itlia. \\ lien we set up for 
 school-inistressc'S lo nun. we stand greatly in need of 
 tliat most j)()lik- ami amial)!;' of arts, wliicli you seem to 
 include Avitl; those wicked pT)n;ps and vanities wliich are 
 renounced ftr us l)y our G;od-motlicrs.*' 
 
 " Now, 1 know you are so kind a mistress, I am not | 
 surprised to find you so dutiful a disciple ; for you have 
 surely learnt all tlie sophisms of your Valiancy." 
 
 « Jly Valiancy ! mine I Do you think 1 include him 
 in my possessions ? No, no, he will never he appro- 
 priated ; he has always one foot at sea, and one on 
 shore. 
 
 " To one Ihiog eonstoot never." 
 
 '• And here he is, to thank you for the compliment." 
 
 ** And pray, ladies," asked Valiancy ,^ " is yourconr 
 lerence ended ?" 
 
 « Ended, indeed! No, Sir,'* retorted Adela, " it 
 is not even begun j I wonder you should think of such 
 intrusion." 
 
 " Oh, I perceive the secret is likety to be bottled up 
 as long as the poor.DiaUe Boiteux, if I do not vigorously 
 make tiie explosion." 
 
 « Mischievous man, beware how you invade our 
 sanctuary."^ 
 
 *< Lady, beware how you profane our sanctuary. The 
 truth is, Cordelia, she has used you ill ; she has lately 
 listened to a tale slie kne\V*long ago, and kept every 
 word of it from you." 
 
 « Cordelia, don't take his word."^ 
 
 « Cordelia, take the evidence of your own senses ; 
 don't you see how like we are to two reflecting mirrors, 
 er two hflrps in perfect unison ? Every thought of mine 
 has an image in her mind ; aye, and to every sentiment 
 of hers, my heart returns an echo. So perfect is the 
 sympathy, I am only afraid that some day or other 
 ^Heaven avert it long J) we shall, like good old Baucis 
 and Philemon, shoot into the eartlj, and become two ten- 
 isr Aca«ias; piping to U^q wiude together.'^ 
 
 * ■.*•» ' "^a* 
 
VALSINORE. 187 
 
 ** No, you will never be stationary, Valiancy, you 
 could as easiK be silent." 
 
 " Tberc again, how admirably we barmonize ; for 
 like two partitioning sovereigns, we divitie the realms 
 of speech between us." 
 
 i* « Usurping to hims«*lf noun, pronoun, verb, partici- 
 ple; and leaving tome notlnng but a poor, melanclio- 
 Jy, monotinious interjection '" 
 
 »* 1 ])rotcst she stole that thouglit from me, yester- 
 day ; I do move, that whoever steals another's ideas 
 sliall, at least, not presume to mould them into a better t?^ 
 .shape." ^ ', 
 
 ♦• So this friend of freedom would extend his autlmri- • ■ -i^ 
 ty to the government of the tongue ; dear little fi'an- . . ' 
 
 chisc ! nevei' shall it part from its chartei-ed piiviicges !" '^\ 
 
 " Yet it is never heard, but it might be convieted of , 
 
 hribenj, to say nothing of corruption. Ask her, Corde- 
 lia, wliich of my faults she best likes." -i 
 
 .« I have already put this question, and she declines 
 •an answer." 
 
 « I will be more liberal in my concessions, — I love her 
 for her worst faults ; her constancy, her caprice, and 
 even her coquetry. Stani]) but lier impression on the 
 coin, and 1 accept it as steiling ; and yet she used Alta- 
 mont ill } he must be of an asbestine temperament to re- 
 sist th(5 impression* Head I been so flattered, so noti- 
 ced—" 
 
 *< You would have cared for mc no more than for Ce- 
 lia Gladwin ; remember your prejudices, your perverse- 
 ness, your inco^mstency, and be silent. Your tyrannical 
 sex, by y)ur prohibitions, compel us to concealment, and 
 then persecute us for duplicity." 
 
 « Why, yes. Nature has made women to revolve in a 
 sphere of obliquity." 
 
 « Not one word against women ; Cordelia has put 
 ^ into her common- place book, a sentence from an anony- 
 mous author against you : ' AVomen are the only beings 
 who have not been degraded by slavery. In bondage, 
 they ai*e not sordid ; under persecution, they are still 
 , gcuerous j they preserve their faith to the faithless } they 
 
188 VAtSlNORE, 
 
 employ kindness to soften the cruel ; in sufferingv 
 they lose not benevolence ; in tl»e most afflictive trials, 
 tliey jxtssess magnanimity ; tlieir love oi" glory is found- 
 ed on sympathy ; excluded fi-om power, privilege, ajid 
 distinction, they have entlmsiasm for every great design, 
 for every splendid aeliievement ; their aftl ctions are i)u- 
 rified from selfislincss ; tliey rejoice in diffusing joy, and 
 are grateful for blessings in which they are not allowed 
 to participate." 
 
 *' Upon my word, they must be fallen angels to exist 
 in such purgatory." 
 
 *' Viper-tongued w retch !" 
 
 " Hush ! softly, and I will for once, tboTigh a lover, 
 confess the truth : woman is here an alien, a wanderer 
 fronj some brigiiter sphere ; she still retains the im- 
 pressions of a purer nature ; she has idioms of truth and 
 goodness, which belong to a better order of brings ; her 
 virtues are like a few precious pages of some divine 
 work, redeemed from Hercnlaneum, of winch the origin- 
 al is lost. The felicity to which slie would lead ns, she 
 has brought us with her from a purer world ; it is a soft, 
 delicious strain ; a few desultory, delightful notes, be- 
 longing to a melody not learned oneartli ; for woman is 
 the mock-bird of Pai-adise." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. ^ 
 
 THE mutual attachment of Adela and Valiancy was 
 not immediately discovered to Mrs. De Lille, whose ex- 
 treme solicitude f )r this favorite object, naturally occa- 
 sioned a diffidence of its accomplishment. The anxiety 
 she still betrayed was frequently a source of amusement 
 to iier mischievous son, in wl|©m even love did not al- 
 ways supply the place (I" rainery. In the mean w hilcy 
 he was surprised at Altamont*s silence ; at another time 
 he might have been tiaeasy, but now he was so agree*- 
 
VALSINORE, ±^ 
 
 bly occupied, that he had not leisure to reflect on the cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 One evening, on rcturniuc; to the Abbey, from which 
 he had been absent the w hoU^ day, in a pleas;int excur- 
 sion with thela<lies, he was surprised by Sir Frederic 
 putting into !iis hand a bill of exchange on a Paris bank- 
 er, which had been concealed in the g(dd purse, return- 
 ed by Altamont. This purse he had stolen from his 
 mother in a playful mood, intending to restore it indue 
 time to the right owner. He forgot to execute these 
 righteous intentions, and the purse i-emamed in the pock- 
 et-book till he accompanied Altamont to London, w!ien 
 he slipped into it the bill he had just procured for his 
 friend's use ; and introducing both into the S!jutF-bux, 
 was jiersuaded he had found an infallible expedient for 
 forcing his gratuity on his friend's acee])tance. 
 
 That Altamont should have been either shocked or 
 offended by the discovery of Sir Frederic's name, had 
 never entered into his calculation ; and he was therefore 
 equally surprised and mortified to have his fiee-will 
 offering so contemptuously rejected. Sir Frederic had a 
 malicious satisfaction in observing the displeasure, which 
 was but too visible in his countenance ; he had this 
 day received a visit frotn Mrs. Woodville, who, two days 
 after her interview with Altamont, received an invitation 
 from a pei-son whose childicn had l)een formerly in- 
 structed by her husband, to spend a few weeks at a vil- 
 lage about^ fifteen nnles distant from Beach(hde, This 
 alteration ni lier plans did not prevent her executing 
 Altamont's commissi(m, and she had thankfully accept- 
 ed the accommodation of a one-horse elmisc, to convey 
 her to St. Quintin's Abbey, wh^re learning from Sir 
 Frederic that Miss. De Lille was from home, slje sur- 
 rendered her letter to his care ; natii rally imagir.ing it 
 was safer with him than with the servants of Valiancy 
 House. 
 
 Sir Frederic, whose curiosity had been strongly ex- 
 cited by !ier appearance, employed all his address to 
 discover her situation -, and, under the pretence of hav- 
 ing some communication to make on the subject of their 
 
490 Y.VXSINORB. 
 
 muttial friend, Mr. Altamont, requestpd her permissioH 
 to call on her during her visit in the neighborhood. 
 Mrs. Woodville was embarrassed by attentions, she at- 
 tributed to !iis ignorance of her humble station, and with- 
 out relating her history, communicated enough to make 
 him sensible of her indigence. His attentions were 
 now redoubled, and she at length loft him, penetrated 
 with gratitude for that respect, which, to the unfortunate, 
 always seems frauglit with sympatiiy. He easily guess- 
 ed that the draft would excite irritable feelings in the 
 impetuous V allancy ; nor was he disajipointed in his ex- 
 pectation ; he instantly pronounced a })liili])pic on petu- 
 lence and pride, and finally begged nothing more might 
 be said on the subject. Sir Frederic easily acquiesced 
 in the charge of secrecy, and then considered in what 
 manner to dispose of the letter so unexpictodly ]uit into 
 his possession. Though hacknied in duplicity, he still 
 revolted from violating the seal committed to his trust, 
 and long held the billet in his hand with a wavering 
 purpose i at length the wax was bent, the last post of 
 honor surrendered. Poorly, however, was this treache- 
 ry repaid, for the billet contained only the following 
 lines : 
 
 " I feel I sliall not need to apologize to Cordelia for 
 introducing to her Mrs. Woodville, the wife of one of 
 my earliest and most valued friends. To say she is un- 
 fortunate is, 1 well know, giving her the strongest claim 
 on your kindness ; she is going to spend some time in 
 the neighborhood of Bcaehdale, and in my mind*s eye I 
 shall foiiovv her to that dearest spot on earth. She has 
 promised to write to me from thence, and may perhaps 
 encourage me to hope that the unwilling exile is not 
 wholly forgotten. Remember there is but one thing 
 that can render him an alien to his country and ymirs. 
 H. A. — I forgot to tell you tlie maiuiscript of Corne- 
 lius is left in the jn'ivate diawer f)f the bureau in my a- 
 partment ; it is committed to your care ; you will find in 
 it asolusion of his mysterions benevolence." 
 
 Sir Frederic read this letter till every word was stamp* 
 on his remembrance. At first he detected in it little to 
 
VAISINOKX. i9i' 
 
 inflame Ijis jealousy ; it was obvious that the writer was 
 neitiiCM- sanguine nor prosuniptunus. But, on a le-poru- 
 sal. he was irritated by the insinuation of that only cir- 
 cumstance wiiich might render him an alien to liis coun- 
 try ; he blessed the chance wliieh prevented Mrs. Wood- 
 ville from attaining an interview with Cordelia ; lie 
 found his own inquietude augmented, and dertermined 
 to double his former vigilance and circumspection. Yet 
 he felt degraded in his ovvn eyes by the total dereliction 
 of h'lnnr ; he did not even venture to pay his accus- 
 tomed visit to Valiancy House in the morning, — he de- 
 feriid it Jill the evening, and then entered under the 
 protection of twilight. MissUouvigny rallied liim on 
 his relish for obscurity i but as Cordelia enquired for 
 liis health with moi-e than usual interest, he was satisfied. 
 All his scruples were silenced ; all his regrets dismissed ; 
 the monienlarx compunction served only to increase his 
 hatred to Altamont. 
 
 Amo)ig all the changes incident to human destiny, 
 there i{5 nothing so melancholy as the mutability of 
 the affe. tions. The nn>st trivial accident, a word mis- 
 eppiivd, a look misconstrued, an omission the heart 
 disclaimed, shall often intcj'pose between anient friends, 
 and sunder what had seemed to be a ri vetted attachment. 
 Valiancy was offended by the supposed repulse of kijid- 
 ness; and when he received a fr\> short lines fi-om Al- 
 taniont, merely announcing liis aiiival, and that Mr. 
 Bi ' ce was still living, he was more pffended still. Not 
 one word of acknowledgment or explanation } his impa- 
 tient sj)irit cojild ill brook disdain : and he determined 
 to be in no haste to sen?' an ansM'-r to so laconic an 
 epistle. lie persevered iit this resolution so h)ng, that 
 he missed the opportunit;. of sending a reply to Geneva. 
 
 Mr. Bruce was suftltiently recovered to remove, and 
 attended by his wife smd Aitanifnl, proceeded to the 
 German Spa. Valiancy learnt tiiis intelligence from 
 Sii FiTdcric, who had paid his promised visit to Mi's. 
 "Woddville, to whom Altiunont had written, to apprize 
 her of the change, uu'l to request slie would tr<insmit 
 to him immediately \n hatever she had to communicate of 
 
192 YALSINORE. 
 
 Beaclulale. Valiancy was ready to ask, why he had 
 not deigned to give him tlie same notification. Aeain 
 impatience rendei-ed him unjust. Altamont had written 
 under cover to Lord Marmitcm, with whom the letter 
 was detained so long, tljat it was not probahle an an- 
 swer would reach him at Spa. Valiancy, however, 
 sullenly acquitted iilmself of this epistolary debt, and no 
 subsequent demand was made on his correspondence. 
 In his confidential conversations with Miss Rouvigny, 
 he would sometimes speak with asperity of his friend's 
 intf actable spirit. He once mentioned Mrs. Woodville 
 as his protegee, and on being pressed for explanation, 
 hastily changed the subject, ni'M'ely because he was un- 
 willing to make the avowal of his own liberality. His fair 
 companion instantly concluded, that more was meant 
 than met the ear ; and, as she had tho weakness to v, ish 
 her lover to liave no intimate of the other sex, she was 
 unconsciously disposed, by this sentiment, to cherish 
 any impr.-ssions to the prejudice of Altamont. Whate- 
 ver she thought, she in.parf«'d to Cord*"lia in their late 
 nocturnal conference s, and certainly hazarded some sur- 
 mises of n » charitable nature, of Mrs. Woodville and 
 her suppnsei! protector. 
 
 Cordelia repehid the insinuation with a fervor which 
 excited in Adela some suspicion of her attachment. Hi- 
 therto she had fancied her heart impregnable to love, 
 and S'HoetinN's rvi.-;retted there was, on tliis point, so 
 little 8} nripathy between them ; biit now she became 
 alar!VK-d for the conwqiences of s'.;c!i an imprudent 
 ■choice, and heartily wislied, f r Cord lia's sake, to per- 
 suade her tliat Alrainont was unwovthy of her alfection. 
 She was perhajjs pi.jued at h-'r r''i.'n(!'s obstinate con- 
 cealment. ;.ike Valiancy, she d< niandcd an unrestrict- 
 ed interchange of tJ* >ijght an.l sentiment, without re- 
 flecting tliat if hvr sursaisis were just, the h -stility she 
 ha(i HViiwcd fv-r Ahamon^ must exclude her from Corde- 
 lia's confidooce. Cordflia felt she was alone ; and since 
 noon'' did justice to AHaoiont his name was banished 
 from hf r lips, though his image was ever present to her 
 thoughts. 
 
VALSiriORE. ±9$ 
 
 This mental reservation, without producing apparent 
 abstraction, rendered her indiffei-ent to society. To 
 lierself it seemed that her sensibilities were blunted, 
 since slie now road, witliout emotion, tlic passages by 
 whicli she had been most deeply aftccted. Yet, in other 
 instances, they were more exquisite. At the name of 
 alien or exile, she was ready to weep ; if she heard of 
 Switzerland, she was revisited by sensations of pleasure ; 
 to speak of it was a still dearer privilege. 
 
 Tins depression was not solely owing to concealed 
 love ; it was in part produced by the apprehension of 
 her father's disingenuous conduct. If the parent is 
 bumbled by the unworthy child, the child feels also 
 equally degraded by the disiionorable parent. Cordelia 
 now always trembled at her father's apjJViJHch, the sound 
 of his voice was painful, she distrusted all his ju'ofessi- 
 ons, and wislied to remain blind to his movements. Tiie 
 conscious De Lille was not slow to perceive what was 
 passing in her mind ; and, as one act of injustice inev- 
 itably leads to another, he conceived for Altamont, to 
 wimm he imputed this esti-angoment, a hati-cd equally 
 fervent with Sir Frederic's jealousy. 
 
 One day he was so n»uch provoked by witnessing her 
 dejection, that he vented his spleen in poignant satire on 
 Mrs. Gladwin's male prots'^ee. Cordelia was too much 
 hurt to offer any reply, and taking refuge in her own 
 reflections, walked into the park, where she was sur- 
 prised in tears by Sir Frederic Mowbray, who, in his 
 most persuasive accent, entreated he might participate 
 in her sorrows, Cordelia hastily replied, she disclaim- 
 ed commiseration for the weakness she sought to combat ; 
 adding, " I trust I as little need a confident as a con- 
 fessor." She then changed the subject, and Sir Freder- 
 ic presumed not to press farther ; but, perceiving she 
 was deeply affected, he instantly went to De Lille, cx- 
 torte«l an avowal of ail that had jiassed, and having 
 convinced him of his error, finalh ot)tained a promise 
 that he wouhi i ever again mention Altamont in ierms of 
 ridicule or reproach, never by word or look convey an 
 
 R 
 
194 Valsinore. 
 
 insinuation of contempt, by which he could not fail t» 
 be endeared to the generous Cordelia. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WITHIN three months after De Lille*s accession of 
 fortune, he was, for some real or imaginai-y services, 
 advanced to the dignity of knighthood. Whether this 
 elevation was owing to Lord Marmiton, or Sir Freder- 
 ic, is perhaps not very material ; by whatever means 
 obtained, it was highly acceptable to Sir Jaspar and his 
 ^.ady, who prepared on this occasion to accom])any her 
 niece to London, and once more make her appearance 
 at St. James's. 
 
 To complete her satisfaction, she was now assured 
 that her fondest wishes were realized in the reciprocal 
 affection of her son and Miss Rouvigny ; and in this hap- 
 py moment appeared to think herself absolved for her 
 former trespass against the canons of prudence and pro- 
 priety, and sudderdy to liave resumed pretensions to 
 dignity and importance. So completely was she exhil- 
 irated by her new hopes, that she seemed to have cast 
 off the native suspicion of lier soul, and to overflow with 
 kiiH^'uess and confidence to all human beings. This hap- 
 py change \\as prelusive to a more awful revolution of 
 nature. She had lived a week in perfect harmony with 
 her h'.isband, and, for the first time since her marriage, 
 had shewn affection to Cordelia ; when, one evening, 
 just as she liad been speculating on her approaching vis- 
 it to the metropolis, and speaking with some compla- 
 cency of her intended restoration to court, she was sei- 
 zed with a chil!, the forennmcr of a violent fever, which 
 in one fortnight terminated her existence. 
 
 In the early part of her illness, she-vexacted from Miss 
 Rouvigny a promise, that she would abridge her son's 
 
YAISINORE. 
 
 1^5 
 
 probation, by bocominej bis M'ife as soon as she shoiilrl 
 have seen lier next bii(,Ii-(lay. Witb tbis promise she 
 was so well satisfied, tbat she appeared to leave life witli 
 a t^ratcfiil sense of enjoyment. Newspapers announced 
 hei* busband's gi-ief ; tbe sculj>tor attested bis grateful 
 commemoration of her exalted virtues : all tbis migbt 
 be venal, but there were some real mourners, who fol- 
 lowed to ber grave. Valiancy recalled, with deep, be- 
 cause unavailing, regret, bis former levity and cajjricc. 
 Even Adela liad some compunction for having so latel;'" 
 cons|)ired with bim, to witbbobl IVoni ber tiie assuran- 
 ces which were so essential to her tranquillity. Corde- 
 lia grieved that she should be snatched from tbe world, 
 ■when she seemed most to enjoy it. But Quintin missed 
 her most ; be strenuously maintained she was a pattern 
 for ber sex ; the only surviving model of female elegance 
 and propriety. 
 
 In consequence of tliis melancholy event, Mrs. Riv- 
 ers, with whom Miss Rouvigny and Cordelia bad pre- 
 viously engaged to spend the winter, kindly came to 
 Beachdale, to condole with the mourners, and to claim 
 their immediate presence at her house in Berkeley- 
 square. Cordelia wotdd have preferi'cd remaining in 
 the country ; but if she could have resisted ber friend's 
 entreaties, she would not oppose iier father's commands. 
 De Lille had lately treated her witli much more aftection ; 
 \ Ins vanity was gratified by tbe prospect of Sir Freder- 
 ic's alliance ; and to win his daughter's consent, be now 
 lavished every partial attention, and promised the most 
 tender indulgence. He concurred with ber lover in 
 wishing to draw ber from a scene of retirement, where 
 she bad too much leisure to muse on Altamont; but an 
 incident occurred previous to her leaving Beachdale, 
 which counteracted the salutary effects be migbt have 
 expected, from the change of scene, and strongly con- 
 I firmed ber attachment. 
 
 One day. in searching for something in the bureau 
 which stood in Altamont's apartment, she aceidcntly 
 opened the private drawer in which was deposited the 
 legend of Cornelius. At first, she was ready to con- 
 
 R2 
 
196 VAXSINORE. 
 
 elude that the manuscript had been left by accident, but 
 she read on the envelope these words, •< To the care and 
 perusal of Cordelia j*' and, simple as tliey were, they 
 touched Cordelia to the soul. They seemed to intimate 
 that the manuscript was bequeathed to her care, and 
 that its owner would never return to i-eclaim the trust. 
 At another time, she might have resisted the impression 5 
 butli^re, in this house of death, slu^ found it invincible, 
 and slie touched the paper as a relique of one she should 
 see no more, but whom she secretly promised to love 
 forever. 
 
 And now she slowly went over the first part of the 
 »arrative ; slowly, that she might read each line, each 
 word, as read by Altamont. When she came to the di- 
 vision in the manuscript, she shed torrents of tears ; but 
 they no longer flowed for Cornelius. At length, having 
 regained composure, she proceeded with the reeom- 
 mencement of the narrative, the writing of which ap- 
 peared much more recent. 
 
 Sequel of the Fragment 
 
 " From the moment that I anticipated the title of a 
 parent, I reflected with extreme i)ain on the infatuation 
 which had prompted me to renounce the privileges of a 
 Briton. I had insensibly imbibed my wife's sentiments 
 on tltis subject, and was equally anxious with herself, 
 that our children should receive their first impressions 
 from a peo])le not unacquainted with civil and religious 
 liberty. We determined, therefore, to remove to some 
 English settlement, where they would at least be famili- 
 ar with the language of our native country. To effect ' 
 this object, we embarked for the Havanna, from thencs 
 proceeded to Florida ; and finally .settled in Albany, on 
 the frontier of Canada. I here purcliased, under the 
 fictitious name I had assumed at Madeira, a small es- 
 tate, which at once gave me occupation and independ- 
 ence. Our habitation, though not elegant, was com- 
 modious. I at first regretted those delicious scenes in 
 which we had almost exhausted felicity j but the pre- 
 
.0 
 
 VAISINOHB. 197 
 
 scnce of Susanna reconciled mc to the less genial aspect , 
 of the new W')rl(l; and the projecting slated roof, under ' 
 which my son received his hirth, was dearer in my eyes 
 tlnm the house of my fathers. Yet never was the mem- 
 ory of those venerable ancestors cherished with such 
 fond enthusiasm, as when I first felt the beatings of his 
 innocent heart, and folded in my arms the fragileWittlo 
 being, by whom I trusted my name should be transHiitted 
 to posterity. <jrV 
 
 My ambition was not extinguished, and in giving f 
 
 him the patrimonial name of Reginald, I indulged the 
 flattering presage, that he at least was destined to pos- 
 sess that rank, in society fiom which I seemed fon^r 
 excluded. The splendid phantoms which had so loiig 
 floated in imagination, now found a stationary point iii^H^ 
 the new object of my affections ; and even whilst I saw 
 liiui slumbering on liis mother's bosom, I was occupied 
 in suggesting plans for his future aggrandizement. I 
 iniparled not all these speculations to Susanna, who, 
 descending with dignified liumility to her present stati- 
 on, ai)p;>ared to have acquired a relisli for its homely 
 duties, and even to have forgotten the rank and ele- 
 gance she had frankly relinquished. Slic exerted all 
 lier eloquence to persuade me, that since her hrotlier, 
 to whom she had twice written since her departure from 
 England, was still implacable in his resentment, it was 
 better tliat the Atlantic should roll between us ; but in 
 this single instance her influence was unavailing; ami 
 before Reginald could articulate the name of Britain, I 
 
 Ihad determined he should receive his education in Eu- 
 rope. 
 
 « For the first ten years, indeed, I believed I should 
 myself be fully comi>etent to his instructioij. 1 had for- 
 tunately made a valuable addition to the few classical 
 books we had brought from Lisbon, by the purchiise of 
 
 Ian English library, the collector of which (a new set- 
 tler) had died within six months of my arrival in tho 
 country. With such a resource for oui* hours of leisjire, 
 ♦ ho winters proved not tedious ; and, though too reuiote 
 iVom the town of Albany to have any iuteicourse witli its 
 
 R3 
 
198 YAlSINOBE. 
 
 inhabitants, we bad no regrets for the absence of society, 
 
 " The only distiiibance to our tranquillity arose from 
 tlie occasional incursions of the Indian tribes, who, whe- 
 ther they esjjouscd tlie interest of the British colonies, m 
 or of their Canadian neighbors, were almost constantly II 
 engaged in petty warfare with each other. In the tiiird 
 year of our residence, my wife blessed nie with a daugh- 
 ter j but the period of her birth was connected with an 
 event which produced the firet cloud to the felicity of our 
 liamonious union. 
 
 « My wife had humanely taken under her protecti'm 
 a young Indian female, the widow of a Jrencli scbaer 
 wIm) had been killed during the late season of hostili- 
 ties. Her kindness was repaid with gratitude and at- 
 tachment. Slie became our son's nurse ; received reli- 
 gious instructions with apparent docility ; and in all 
 ^ respects behaved with such propriety, as not to leave tlie 
 smallest reason for suspecting her fidelity. It is not 
 •probable tiiat this woman would have betrayed her trust, 
 but for the temptation of returning to her own people j 
 and such was her fondness for my son, that she deter- 
 mined he should be the companion of her flight, 
 
 *' Her plan was so well concerted, that we were for 
 some time led to suppose they had both been surprised 
 and forcibly carried into captivity. Such incidents were 
 of no rare occurrence, and at first appeared to be the 
 only probable conjecture ; but by the indefatigable zeal 
 of another Indian, who was really honorable and faith- 
 ful, we at length ascertained that they were both living 
 among the Hurons in perfect safety. 
 
 ** On this discovery, a formal application was made to 
 ihe French governor of Montreal ; and after many tedi- 
 iDUs and difficult delays, we at Fength obtained his I'csto- 
 ration. During this interval several years had elap- 
 sed ; his parents were totally obliterated from his mem- 
 ory J his native language was forgotten ; he had been 
 dragged by force from his Indian mother i and was so 
 much altered, that but for a natural mark on his forehead, 
 ^e should have found it diiti«ult to believe^ that the tall^^ 
 
VAXSINORE. 199 
 
 grave, taciturn boy before us, was indeed our own Regi- 
 nald. 
 
 *« At the first glance I revolted from liis picturesque 
 Indian garb, and passionately exclainied, * I could not 
 own him till he was drest like a native of Europe.' 
 The change of attire produced not the transformation 
 1 expected; his countenance still bore a resemblance to 
 that of his treacherous, but beloved nurse ; he submitted 
 to our customs with reluctance: he replied not to our 
 endearments ; he was oflVnded by his sistei''s caresses ; 
 and thougli already imbued with the fortitude peculiar 
 to his adopted poople, could not always suppress his se- 
 cret grief, I was, however, still willing to persuade my- 
 self that much of his estrangement was occasic^ned by 
 ignorance of our language, and that this obstacle being 
 once surmounted, he would become more suseei)tible of 
 kindness and attachment. How eagerly did I catch ev- 
 ery English plirase that droptfrom his lips ' his moV 
 ther, too, watched their motions, . t from a far differ- 
 ent impulse. She longed to hear him express his wants 
 and signify his wishes. It w as a solace to her maternal 
 tenderness, to make him sensible of her solicitude to give 
 him pleasure. By degrees he acquired our language, 
 but his reserve was scarcely diminished ; he had no 
 childish gaiety j he recoiled from an European play- 
 mate ; he disliked our modes and habits of life. To 
 entice him to study, seemed at first impossible ; betook 
 no interest in sedentary pursuits, or domestic pleasures j 
 his spirits flagged, even his health deeliricd ; under 
 the patei'ual roof he languished in hopeless captivity. 
 
 ** His mother was at infinite pains to instruct him in 
 the Christian religion : but he cotdd not listen to th** di- 
 vine precept which enjoins forgiveness, without contempt 
 and disgust. Any effort to excite in him a liberal aui^ 
 bition, proved equally unsuccessful. If 1 related a trait 
 of history, he distrusted its truth ; if I tried to win hi^ 
 attention to poetry, he was incapable of transferring its 
 imagery to his own uncultivated mind. Aritlmietic pleas- 
 ed him most, though it cost him such intense lahmv as 
 always to occasion stupor j yet was uot this indifference 
 
200 VAISIXOEE. 
 
 the result of natural insensibility. I once took him witli 
 nic on the lake, in a fea^eajtequipt in the Indian style : 
 for the first time I saw his fine features ; and as we ad- 
 vanced toward the woods, he was all life, soul, and ac- 
 tivity. On our turning back, his eys filled with tears ; 
 he gazed on the country he had left, till it sunk fiom 
 his view, but no murmur escaped his lips. Touched by 
 his resignation, 1 would have made any sacrifice for his 
 happiness but that of seeing him a savage. I once said 
 with my natural vehemence, < I was a i*ebel to my fa- 
 ther's house, and my son will be a deserter.* I knew 
 not that he was listening ; but a sudden tinge of red in his 
 cheeks convinced me lie had heard those words, and un- 
 derstood their meaning. My wife gently ciiecked my* 
 impatience, an<l proposed that we should no longer per- 
 secute him \A ith books ; but trust to time, and the latent 
 spirit of emulation within him, for his future improve- 
 ment. I desisted, and despaired ; but suddenly a revo- 
 lution was effected in his character. He had been se- 
 verely ill, and during his confinement, became sensible 
 to our affections ; his sister read to him, and he pres- 
 ently chose to read for himself. His mother observed 
 that he pursued, by stealth, those studies to wliieli I had 
 so long urged him in vain ; but she w as careful to con- 
 ceal from me this circumstance, hoping, on some future 
 occasion, to enhance my pleasure by the surprise of dis- 
 covery. 
 
 « One evening, as I pensively approached our parlor, 
 I was struck with the sound of a deep sonorous voice, in 
 the exercise of poetical recitation. I listened at the 
 door, and was soon convinced that the exclaimer was no 
 other than Reginald ; his sister was his only auditress ; 
 he had himselfchosen the subject, which was from Pope's 
 Pvohsgue t'> Cato. He pronounced, with an emphasis 
 that electrified my soul, the line, 
 
 " And honored Csesar's, less than Cato's sword." 
 
 " At this moment, Susanna surprised me, almost lost 
 in rapturous amazement. 1 could hold no longer, but 
 
VALSINORE. 201 
 
 rushing into the room, embraced my son with trans- 
 ports of joy and tenderness. His niothi'r wept with de- 
 ligiit j we all mingled teais and caresses ; and I eagerly 
 exclaimed, < I am repaid for all the siiilerings of the 
 ))ast.' Yet it was on tliat most happy evening, I resu- 
 med my ambitious projrcts. 1 attributed Reginahl's late 
 efforts to a transcendant genius ; but not daring to pro- 
 pose his future separation from his mother, I determined 
 to make every eftort for my own restoration to Britain. 
 
 " From this tiuie 1 bestowed on my son's mind class- 
 ical cultivation ; and as soon as he was able to read a 
 Latin author, Csesar's Commentaries became his great 
 deliglit ; he was still moi*e enamored with Plutarch's 
 Lives ; his eyes flashed at the name of Coriolanus ; he 
 wished he had been born a Roman. Yet even whilst I 
 was exulting in his heroic sentiments, he daslied my tri- 
 umph, by saying, that Regulus, the supi-eme object of 
 his veneration, had acted like a Huron, 
 
 " I perceived that his prepossessions for savage life 
 still continued ; yet my hopes were ardent. The heir 
 apparent to the throne of England had avowed the most 
 liberal sentiments for the House of Stuart ; and I w as 
 eneoui'aged to take some active steps for recovering my 
 British birthright. I privately communicated my situ- 
 ation to the governor of New Yoik, who promised to 
 use whatever influence he possessed in my favor. 
 
 «* In making tins eff<)it, it formed no part of my in- 
 tentions to enforce any claims on the remnant of my fa- 
 ther's property. Misfortune had visited every part of 
 our family. The uncle, to whose injustice we owed our 
 first lapse from prosperity, had been iuipoverished by 
 his j)rodigcil children. The estates were sold, and the 
 descendants of the younger son were left to indigence 
 and obscurity. 
 
 « Some years ela])sed. The governor was recalled ; 
 but still promised his assistance. In tlic nioantiine, the 
 war was carried on with tljc Frencii I'aniulians ; and 
 as R<'ginald had evidently a predilection f >r military 
 adventure, 1 took him with me to visit the Briiish lin* s. 
 He was x-emarkably tall for his age, nnd aheady pos- 
 
202 VAXSINOBE. 
 
 sessed a martial aspect ; I enga,2;cd him to serve as st* 
 voliuitecr, imaginin.a^ 1 could not devise a more effectu- 
 al method to erradicatc his remaining Indian prtju- 
 dices. 
 
 *< In taking this step I had not consulted Susanna, 
 whose matoi'ual tenderness would, I feared, revolt from 
 the suggestion. Yet I could not he easy witliout appri- 
 zing her of the transaction ; and liaving placed my son, 
 as I hoped, in his proper sphere of action, I returned 
 home to dissipate her fears, and reconcile her to his ab- 
 sence. 
 
 " In announcing my mission, I tried to persuade her 
 that the choice had been my son's ; that it was whvdly 
 made for his gratification. Slie turned pale, but onlj 
 said, * May Heaven sanctify the choice.' I had been 
 prepared with arguments, but her resignation shook my 
 own confidence, and I could not be satisfied witiiout re- 
 turning to tlie camp. My daughter expressed her child- 
 ish delight at the idea of seeing her brother in his mili- 
 tary dress, and by her smiles dissipated lier mother's 
 sadness. 
 
 " In a few days I again repaired to the British quar- 
 ters } hut what intelligence awaited me ! My son was 
 a deserter, in a sliglit skirmisli with the French he had 
 shewn the most intrepid courage ; but two or three Hu* 
 rons having been captured, his former affbction revived, 
 and, to effect their release, he had absconded with them, 
 and thus entailed on his memory everlasting reproach* 
 
 " I was at first stunned by the calamity, and wound- 
 ed where I was most irritable, in tlie point of honor. 
 I seemed, for the second time, banished from society : 
 my fondest hopes were blasted : not even Susanna could 
 now administer to me consolation ; and it was some days 
 before I could prevail on myself to re-approach my des- 
 olated liome. Never before had I crossed tlie threshhold 
 without anticipating a smiling welcome ; but now I shud- 
 dered at the idea of hearing my wife's voice, or receiv- 
 ing the caresses of my sole surviving child. 
 
 " I found Susanna alone, and iier countenance, tFiough 
 pale, was placid. I knew not how to enter on my 
 
VAXSINORE. 203* 
 
 di'eadful task. I Imd expected she would make some 
 enquiry concerning In r son. I at lenqtli thought it best 
 to niake the disch»siire in my daughter's presence, and 
 asked where she was. My \a ife struggled for speech j 
 but 1 at length diseovei'cd that this dear child had died, 
 after an illness ol scune hours, during iny absence. We 
 had lost our darling wIk n she should have been our best 
 comfort. 
 
 *' * This is too much,' cried I. * I came to afflict tliee, 
 Susanna, and my erraiul is already anticipated.' 
 
 <' She looked at me wistfully, and at length said, in 
 a low, alm(»st whispering voice, « I perceive you are 
 again alone.' A dei p groan followed ; and clasj)ing her 
 liands together, sheexclaiuied, • Speak ! for I will bear. 
 I promise to be resigned. Where is oui* son ?' 
 
 it « Where !* cried I ; * would he had never existed !' 
 
 ** * Oh, Cwrnelius, say not so j I can endure any thing 
 but this. Surely, lie has not disgraced you ?' 
 
 ** 1 explainecl, and she wept. At the sight of her 
 tears my indignation was changed to pity. 
 
 ** « Unhappy boy !' said she, * 'twas the sin of igno- 
 rance.' 
 
 ** My rage was then directed against myself. I cur- 
 sed my fatal obstinacy, my own unextinguislied, unap- 
 proved ambition. 
 
 " * No,' leturned she, with her native energy, *I 
 only am to blame. I who entrusted him to an Indian.' 
 
 " * And that also, Susanna, was the consequence of 
 my surliness/ 
 
 " * Oil, Cornelius, let us not thus aggravate misery. 
 Man is born to suffer ; resist not the will of Providence, 
 but submit meekly to its mysterious dis])ensations. And 
 here,' added she, falling on my neck, and shedding a iiood 
 of tears, * here is one, that shall at least sorrow with 
 thee." 
 
 " Thus did this heroic woman recall my fortitude by 
 her own noble magnanindty. She was my angel, my 
 guide, my cons(d« r^ but whilst slie soothed my spirit to 
 traiiqiiiJiity. she was herselt consumed with grief. At 
 night i was startled by her deep-drawn sighs 3 she wast- 
 
204 V.VI.SINORE. 
 
 
 ed in my sii^ht ; still slie made efforts to smile, but the 
 smile was awful. Generous as ever, it was foi' me she 
 suffered, whilst she sought to fortify my mind for its ap- 
 pi'^iaeliiiig trial. 
 
 *« On the first symptoms of her indisposition, I had 
 transported her to Albany, and called in the most es- 
 teemed physician. She submitted to iiis prescriptions 
 \vitii hei' accustomed sweetness, but I soon saw that all 
 prescriptions were vam. 
 
 " * Let us leave this country,' said she one day, with 
 unusual animation ; * we are here remijided of wiiat we 
 have lost. Let us sell our plantations, and seek another 
 home.' 
 
 <* I followed this suggestion, and wc removed to New 
 York, whtM'o, feeble as she was, she Mould have enticed 
 me into society. 1 too well coniprcliended her motives 
 for expressiJig a wish, which, during seventeen years, 
 had nevor passed her lips. 
 
 «* One day she proposed that we should travel. « But 
 whither, busanna?' * To Madeira.' As she spokeyii 
 she raised her languid eyes, and appalled me with th©|| 
 view of her dying countenance. Never before had I re- 
 nounced hope ', but now that she mentioned Madeira, 
 «nd that I belield her so changvd, so faded, from that 
 resplendent beauty in wijich S had borne her to our deli-j 
 cious paradise, the terrible conviction struck my soul,|! 
 and I exclaimed, * No, nevei* to Madeira, never !' 
 
 « * Say not so, ans\^el•ed she, with a faint smile; 
 * some time honc" it may comfort thee to go thither.' 
 
 <* She articulated tb( s<^ words with a slow yet tender 
 solemnity, that revea'ed their secret meanirig. Sh*' saw 
 she was uTiderstood ; and whilst my impassioned an- i 
 guish b'lrst forth, said, with nn angelic smile, * Shall > 
 there not td ways be this snb-h'.teltigence between usr'jl 
 From that moment I had eonstajitly before my e^es theil 
 image of ou' porting — in ovei-y object I beheld tljr fin- 
 ger of d''ath predicting her destiny IIo})e I bud none j 
 but there was a sort of stispens". th-at state of doubt, 
 winch, at a happier porio«l, \ should have deemed in- 
 supportable, but which was now most precious. 
 
TALSlNOniB. ;J0& 
 
 DiirinJS^ this interval, my soul was absorbed in one 
 object, i scarcely ever left her — I watched witli avari- 
 cious vigilance over the few remaining momeutsj — they 
 were all numbered, and each was sacred. 
 
 <« It was an luispeakahle satisfaction to minister to 
 her tiiosc unavailing di*aughts she took for my sake. 
 Still there was little in her apartment that had the air of 
 sickness : she even strove to disguise the patient under, 
 a tlr»^s8 i)eculiarl>y acceptable to my t^ste ,* for neve^ to 
 the latest hoin*, did she remit those sweet attenimns 
 which endear the most trivial >part of existence; but, 
 with all her generous duplicity, I coUfd not be insensible 
 to the rapid approach of death. . • 
 
 •> " 0^ the ever-mcmorHble day of our separation,.! 
 received from the agent I had before empl >yed, respect- 
 ing my restoration to Brjtain, a letter, in which 1 was 
 assured of pereonal indemnity whenever I should return 
 to my native country. At what a mom§n£ was this pro- 
 mise given ! when I had lost every' motive for wishing 
 to retm'n. and could no longer jWh^ion, withqirt a sense 
 of degratfation, the land of m^athcrs. 
 
 Susanna took up the lettxw I had read in mournful si- 
 lence. " Yms, you inrisj; return,' cj'ied aJic j i it i%a 
 debt you owe to nature : hitherto you have cared too 
 much for one to think of tlie^anyy*. * 
 
 " * Surely,' I replii^r, *^ou wouhj not have ^le^-e- 
 call that ambition which lia§ been "my d.isti*oycr.' 
 
 <* * No, Cornelius, I would not leave fan in such vas- 
 salage. Cherish independence ; but even a solitary in- 
 dtsido^I may cast fortLaliglit that shall be rellected 
 through the world. Remember what you once said, 
 tiiat ignorance and prejudice were the roots of all the 
 selfish feelings, and you will adv^ocatc the cause of truth. 
 Recall your own lessons, and you will need no other 
 monitor. Let the stigma of slavery bo wiped from the 
 Christian name. Think that you have many brothers, 
 many childrf n i and if you can but b«^queath one bless- 
 ing to humnnitv, you will not iiave lived in vain.' 
 
 " Here obner . ing that she seemed pxiiausted, I urged 
 her tu lie down on her couch, and kuecling by her side^ 
 
 S 
 
206 YAIiSINORB. 
 
 with one Land locked in mine, I watched her till she 
 sunk into a gentle slumber. Her dark hair, escaping from 
 her cap, was finely contrasted with her pale forehead 5 
 a hectic bloom flushed her cheeks — a gracious smile play- 
 ed round her lips. She soon awoke, and turning on me 
 those eyes which beamed with enthusiasm, attempered 
 by sweetness, she said, * I cannot sleep, Cornelius ; nor 
 ^yould I now lofSyin sleep the iew moments that may yet 
 lye diared. between us. How much wo«lii I gatl#r into 
 this little space ! My\ best fiiend, we must separate. 
 In this, as in evcfy othJSf.instanee, it has pleased Hea- 
 ven tifict ll^iouldmthe favored .partner ;• andfet itcohr 
 sole youX*a' my departure, that you arc suifering for 
 Ji\\ sake.' She saw my tears, and added, in l^mmost^v 
 sobtlfcig accents, * We^lravejiad ^ long lease of mippi* -A 
 ^ess, and -our souls^j^Vfe.rijjeinftd in love. It is for you \ 
 t^pay my part to socrety'.^^Tfeiturn to Europe ; let yotlr 
 heart flow tJut'Njg tKp humaff r^e ; make Van interest in 
 - the desolate, the per'&«^ed, the afflicted.* V j 
 
 .., " -Sh^here pron^^U her son's name, and inVblun- ' 
 tarilv I bestowed on liim mv wafm^t bR;ssin^?^An in- 
 
 from which Tbwe xj^iii^^^vaking. 
 
 l^.i^V^as «someJJ^ befoSj vy^jsjcon^sbious of her dis-> 
 solution — heVspiVifsfenieirhovering over me — it was a 
 Sabbath of lof^ and sorrow, in which my soul was in- 
 capable of one angry cntQtioli, one vulgar care : ^1 the J 
 ordinary passions rt'tirftri^afl^' the majesty t.\^>5*.'* ^ 
 Recollecting Ih-l* c(H}yv'rs%io\fs^ rJabored to extract from 
 theuj somc.paiting reqtVst, Itine^dying injunction. I 
 could only discover thatsht' wished me to ivturn to Eu- 
 rope, 5»n(l this 1 determined t<> do, as soon as I shoidd 
 have setihd my few w rhlly concerns, and obtained j 
 some inteiligenee concerning Ket-inahl. 
 
 <« Sijfteued by afflictitm, 1 could now quietly resign all 
 the d;a=<«s ofambititm, and J yearned but to beh<ihl my 
 Si u, tlir sole iilie of Susanna's lov»-. An exchange of 
 prisoners was about to be luade^ by some of whom i ho- 
 
VALSINORE. 20y 
 
 ped to trace my fuJ:;itivc. I commenced my journey to- 
 wards tlie back settlements. In my way I luul to pass 
 the British lines, and bein.a; m;ifflli'(l up to escape observ- 
 ation, I gained courage to a])pi'oacb the camp. It was 
 a glorious morning, and I felt my spirits somewhat re- 
 vived by the loveliness «»f natuie. 
 
 " As I advanced to tlie «)ut-i)ost, I observed tlie soldi- 
 ers drawn up, as if there was to be some grand military 
 spectacle. On enquiry, I was informed by a sentinel,, 
 that it was to witmss the piniishmcnt of some deserters. 
 At this word my blood was congealed with horror, till 
 recollecting that Reginald had no associate in his flight, 
 I became somewhat re-assui-ed, aiid pi'oeeed'e<l to the 
 spot whei-c one of the delinquents was submitting to chas- 
 tisement. At the first glance I was easy, for the suffer- 
 er was totally unlike my son. and tui-ned my steps to 
 another part of tho cam]), where I heard a faint niur- 
 inur of his youth and beauty. I proceeded \\ ith faltering 
 steps, too much agitated to make any enqiiiry, but the 
 word death vibrated on mine car, and suddenly raising 
 my eyes, I beheld my Reginald guarded, yet standing 
 in deep thought, with much dignity in his mien, and un- 
 alterable firmness in his countenance. At my cxclama- 
 ti(Mi of anguish he looked up : I stretched out my pater- 
 nal arms, but he deigned hot- to notice my presence. 
 * Oh, Reginald,' cried I, ' wilt thou not own thy fa-4 
 thcr ?' 
 
 " * If I had a father,' he replied, * he would revenge 
 inc.* 
 
 . <« < My son, I am not an Indian ; nor was revenge a 
 part (»f thy mother's faith." 
 
 " « My mother !' said be, in a softened voice, < tell 
 my mother 1 am going to that world where the wicked 
 cease from troubling, and tlie weai'v be at rest.' 
 
 " This passage, wliich he had learnt when a cliild, 
 from her lips, he repeated with her own delightfid ac- 
 cent. 1 fell on his neck, I wept aloud. Touched by 
 my grief, the sentinels retired a few paces, to allow j.s 
 to converse moi*e freely together. 
 
 ** Wlicn he found we were not overhcai'd, he said, 
 S2 
 
208 VAL9IN0RE. 
 
 « Do you observe that old soldier ? He would last night 
 have assisted me to escape, but [ would not listen to the 
 proposal, lest he, too, should be punished as a traitor. 
 I deserted not from fear, but gratitude. I would not 
 wrong my friends, though (frowning awfully) I despise 
 my enemies. Tlierefore, my father, reward that man, 
 for he would have preserved my life.' 
 
 « Oh ! my Reginald, thou art now indeed my son^ 
 worthy of thy ancestors, thy country, thy mother. Thou 
 shalt not die , I will move heaven and earth to save 
 thee.' 
 
 " He shook his head. < Can you suppose I would 
 survive the scourge ?' 
 
 " At this moment 1 heard the drums beating, and, 
 anticipating the dreadful signal, I flung from my son, 
 and asked for the commanding officer. I was directed 
 towards the spot, where he appeai"ed on horseback, two 
 or three military comrades standing round him. As I 
 approached, I loudly exclaimed, « Save my son.' The 
 officer, though of a mild engaging aspect, turned away 
 his head, and desired I might be conducted to his tent. 
 * Hear me,' I cried ; but at that moment, spurring his 
 horse, he darted away ; and, with almost incredible ve- 
 Socity, vanished from my sight. 1 would have follow- 
 ed, but was restrained by force, and dragged, in s])ite 
 A of resistance, towards the tent ; where, as I redoubled 
 my efforts to escape, I was put under arrest. 
 
 *♦ A few moments after, 1 heaid the cannon which 
 was to proclaim my son's doom. All my struggles were 
 then over, 1 fell prostrate on the ground, and remain- 
 ed, I know not how long, in a sort of death-like insenr 
 sibility. But I was, at length, roused, by hearing the 
 voice of that young man I liad before supplicated in 
 vain. I instantly arose, asking with vehemence, where 
 was my sun. He east down his eyes, with a mournful 
 expression. 
 
 «* « If you have murdered him, let me also die, for I 
 wnB thp first transgressor.' 
 
 »< * Would it had been possible to save him.' 
 
 *< » And is it really finished?' I said no more; but 
 again, bowing my head, suiUt to the ground. 
 
VAISINOBB. 20^ 
 
 " The officer, sighing deeply, exclaimed, * Unhappy 
 father !' 
 
 ♦• < Wretcli!' cried I, rising with ungovcrnahlc fury, 
 * canst thou pity i»im thou would'st not succor ? Why 
 was I not heard ? why was not the sentence suspended 
 or repealed? Your rii^id discipline has made me deso- 
 late ; childless and forsaken 1 sliall descend to the grave. 
 Cursed be tlie wretches who have bereaved me of iuy 
 son ! cursed be that sense of duty which could sanctify 
 such cruelty ! B«. assured you will some day feel com- 
 punction. Yon, too, may become, like me, wretched 
 and desolate ; your wife may be left to mourn ; your fa- 
 tlieiless children remain without a helper, 'rrcmble, 
 } oung man, for your iieart was steeled to the holy sup- 
 plication of nature.' 
 
 ** * Hear me,' he cried, * you are deceived. I would 
 have saved } our son ; he refused to make submission ; 
 he scorniMl to accept mercy.' 
 
 *' ' And could no allowance be made for his youth ?' 
 
 ♦' < I w p.s hei-e but in place of a superior. I had no 
 authorily to absolve his crime; his condemnation had 
 been already pronounced ; all that remained for me w as 
 to suspend its execution.' 
 
 ** * And even tlmt you refused to do ?' 
 
 *« < That, Sir, you will find was done. I waited foi' 
 the return of my general; and it was to him I was has- 
 tening at the moment you would have stopt mc in the 
 camp.' 
 
 <♦ < And was yonr general then inhuman ?' 
 
 « ♦ No, he relented ; but your son had decreed his 
 own destruction ; and no sooner was he released, than, 
 to escape, as he imagined, the degradation of chastise- 
 ment, he rushed on a naked bayonet, and fell, pierced 
 with a mortal wound. He yet breathes, if you would 
 see him.' 
 
 « In another moment I was with my dying^Reginaldr 
 who confirmed tiiis statement. When all was over, I 
 was again cojiveycd to the tent ; where the officer 1 had' 
 s<) unjustly accused, took upon him the care of a private 
 iutcrmc&t* Tlie soldier who woidd l^ave rescued mf 
 ' 1^* 
 
^10 VALSINORE. 
 
 boy was my fellow mourner. I j^ave him my purse ; I 
 offered him all I })ossessed ; he refused the gift : he too 
 was a husband and a father. 
 
 «' This last duty performed, I wislied once more to 
 sec the man who would have been my benefactor. 
 Touched with contrition for my former in)])atiencc, 1 
 would iiave offered some excuse, but he refjised to listen, 
 I saw tears rolling down his cheeks : overpowered by 
 this mark of sympathy in a stranger, I fell at his feet ; 
 I was wholly unmanned ; I wept. But what was my 
 anguish when I discovei-ed that he was my kinsman, the 
 descendant of my father's brother. I had now an unut- 
 terable pang at the recollection of my maledictions ; but 
 I divulged not the relation between us j I had lost all" 
 power to allude to the past. 
 
 " I was conducted from the camp by a person who 
 liad known me in Albany, and who compelled me to 
 accept his assistance ; of effort or resistance I was no, 
 longer capable ; 1 was seized with a stupor, bordering^^ 
 on derarigement. A voyage was thought advisable, and 
 being now wholly passive, 1 was easily induced by my 
 host to embark with him for Jamaica. In tliis new situ- 
 ation I recovered my perceptions, and with them all the 
 enci'gies of grief. 
 
 " During my residence in the island, I again sunk 
 into heartless despondence, but was roused by indigna- 
 tion on witnessing the detested traffic in lunnan beings, 
 1 recalled my wife's dying words, and resolved to ex- 
 pose to Europe the horrors of slavery. I had no soon- 
 er formed this resolution than my mind becamj;^ more 
 easy ; and I now recollected, with the longings (^i^affec- 
 tion, that delicious island in which I had tasted every en- 
 joyment. "With my friend's assistance, my business be- 
 ing now transacted, I once more landed in Madeira ; 
 where every ol)jcct spoke to me of Susanna. 
 
 ** It was liere 1 met with a wretched miser, who had 
 remitted money to every considerable bank in Europe^ 
 anxious to avert the evil of poverty, though he lived int 
 the priviition of every enjoyment. He was in the last 
 tgtage of ati'ophy j his recovery appeai'ed unpossi))lc, au<l 
 
TALSINORE gll 
 
 lie was siuUlonly impressed with the desiiT of making 
 some atoiiemout for his former rapacity; he had neither 
 w ife, nor children, nor any relations for whom he caiHsd ; 
 his hard lieart was equally incajnible of piety or benev- 
 oh^nce. He had heard of my sing(ilar ojjinions, and 
 sti'uck v.ith my contempt for money, determined to make 
 me his almoner ; foi* this purpose he g'ave me an order 
 on the llamburt^h bank for a considerable sum, to be 
 solely dedicated to objects of charity ; hut he annexed 
 to tliis a restriction aj^ainst usini;;it previous to his own 
 decease. He had an avei'sion to the idea of making a 
 will ; and at his death, wliich happened two or three days 
 before I left Madeira, his immense treasures, with 
 the exception of that small portion committed to my 
 trust, enriched only tlie rtspectivc governments of those 
 Countries, in wJiich they were placed. 
 
 " From tliat tune to the i»resent, I have religiously 
 observed my engagement, having never diverted from 
 its proper ol)jeet this little fund of charity. On my re- 
 turn to Europe I assumed a new name, and with it com- 
 menced a new career. The reccdieelion of my couniry 
 Avas too ]JHinl'ul to be dwelt on ; Ihad no motive for re- 
 suming the jH'ivileges of a Briton. I was long tortured 
 with the ago)dzing consciousness of privation ; I gave 
 alms without pity J 1 advocated the cause of man with- 
 out benevolence. I was at lengtli induced to visit Eng- 
 lan'l, where I found, in the deepest distress, the widow 
 and son of my unacknowledged kinsman. In witness- 
 ing their aillietions, my heai't was again visited by 
 co!np;;nction ; I would not violate the fund of charity, 
 bu^ I borrowed from it a sjm equivalent to all my own 
 worldlv i)t)Ssissions ; and this 1 bestowed on them, with 
 my fervent benediction. The aiiibition that once raged 
 in my so d is extinguislied. The salutaiy counsels of 
 Susanna liavc, at length, restoi'cd me to peace. I have 
 yet one wish uiigratified : it is, to administer consola- 
 tion to the comp.ini'm of my yoiitli. Albert yet lives; 
 he has been schooled in adversity } he is chastened by 
 disappointment; could 1 discover his retreat, I woidd 
 seek Uiin in any corner of tlie globc^ and divide with 
 
212 VALSINORE. 
 
 him the p<?ace which is now the inmate of my breast. I 
 would teacii iiim, in Susanna's words, to Jet his love flow 
 out to the human race. It is with the tears, wiped from 
 other eyes, that we heal our own bosom wounds. It is 
 by renouncint^ selfishness and cherishing sympathy, tliat 
 the once wi'etclied, despairing man, restored to tiie 
 privileges of a human being, learns to say, * It is good 
 for met© have been afflicted.' '' 
 
 Onorieof tiie blank pages following the narrative, Al- 
 tamont had written with a pencil, *» My kinsman and 
 my benefactor, whom my heart has so long sought ! The 
 m^ sterious being to whom I am so greatly indebted, for 
 such you certainl}' are ! misfortune lias indeed visited 
 our house : its patrimony is dissipated, its honors lap- 
 sed, its name almost foi'gottcn. We are all wantlerers 
 ori^f he earth ; buttiiou hadstthy Susanna, and with her 
 a term of more than human happiness. I too love, but 
 without hope. I leave my country, and witii it the sole 
 object who could make life worth acceptance." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 FOR the first three months of their residence in Lon- 
 don, neither Adela nor Cordelia had much intercourse 
 with the world.' * The foinner was reconcil'.d to hei* reti- 
 red life by the society of Valiancy, who was almost their 
 daily guest ; the latter had lost all relish f )r gaiety, and 
 could she have been permitted to make her choice, would 
 have gladly devoted herself to solitude and seclusion. 
 Whenever she saw her father he was cordially affec- 
 tionate ; and she was almost persuaded the former 
 fluctuations in his deportment had been ocsasioned by 
 Mrs. De Lille's jealousy. Hewoidd sometimes confess 
 the errors of his early life with such apparent candor, 
 that she was ready to pronounce him incapable of delibe- 
 rate duplicity ! and while she lamented Mrs. Giadwiu's 
 
VALSIWORE, 21S 
 
 estrangement, belle vcd slie did lierfatlier great injustice. 
 In tiKse confidential conversations Do Lille souictimes in- 
 timated, that he was addicted to idavj and that he in- 
 tended to settle on her a certain fortune, to secure her 
 from the eftectsofhis inipriidence. He would then add, 
 th.it he placed implicit confiilence in the rectitude of her 
 principles ; and that he w as convinced, the possesion 
 of independence would never weaken her sense eft filial 
 duty. ^ 
 
 . It was impossible that so much kindness should not 
 -l-iQifch a heart so tender, so susceptible of filial atl3,ch- 
 mcMif. Cordelia was really endeared to her fatltcr by the 
 sensibility she now discovered to his attentions ; sm? Be- 
 came the darling, not of his heart, but his fauey. H^ 
 delighted to anticipate her future establishment with 
 Sir Frederic ; and he had a sort of malignant satisfac- 
 tion in the belief, that ho should inflict mortification on 
 the too presumptuous Alt;4!nont. In tlie meantime, his 
 elected son-in-law was cautious not to hazard an avowal 
 wliich might exclude him from the piivileges of intima- 
 cy which he now enjoyed. In submitting to the restric- 
 tions imposed by prudence, he, however, persisted in 
 tiiat course of small, silent attentions which, without au- 
 thorising repulse, sufficiently express attachnjent. In 
 adopting tliis cautious line of conduct, he purstied the 
 counsels of Miss Rouvigny, who was now his confidante 
 and his advocate ; and who, from well-meant zeal to 
 eradicate what she considered as a most unlM'tunate pre- 
 possession, seized every opportunity to cxwthis worth, 
 and depreciate that of his rival. 
 
 Cordelia was not insensible to Sir Frederic's merit : 
 his society was really pleasing ; slie distiusted not the 
 rectitude of his princi[»les ; but extreme circumspection 
 often ])roduced in liis manners a sort of artificial frigi- 
 dity, which repressed the genial flow of sympathy and 
 confidence; and. without attempting to d-fine her feel- 
 ings, she always found something wanting to perfect en- 
 joyment. 
 
 Miss Rou\ igny certainly injtn'ed Ins ca'ise whenever 
 she hazarded any insinuation wliich could provoke a 
 
214 VALSINORE. 
 
 comparison between liim and Altaniont, whose brilliant 
 talents dazzled the imagination of Cordelia, whilst the 
 conviction, tliat lie was neither pi^ospcrous nor hap])}', 
 subdued her iieart. Then she was persuaded, tliat he 
 loved, without cherisliinj^ hope, and became ambitious 
 of emulating him in disinterestedness of sentiment. She 
 recollected too her obligation to his mother's kindness, 
 and willingly found in gratitude a plea for constancy 
 and stability. In her conversations with Adela, how- 
 ever, she never mentioned Altamont ; but her friend 
 was now peifcctly aware, that it was for his sake she 
 professed her I'esolution never to enter the married state. 
 
 One day, perceiving her unusually dejected, she ex- 
 claimed, " Cordelia, what will you say if 1 give you 
 some intelligence from your first preceptor ? You must 
 know. Sir Frederic has access to that pretty Jilrs. Wood- 
 ville, with whom he keeps up a constant correspond- 
 ence ; and wh(» being lately m want of money was sup- 
 plied by Sir Frederic's liberality. The protegee inform- 
 ed your friend of the circumstance, and here is a note, in 
 which was inclosed a 40l. bill for repayment. So you 
 see he can find money for this pretty m oman, we will 
 hope, for his friend's sake ; though to him it might ])er- 
 haps, have been indifferent whether the supply came 
 from Sir Frederic or Mr. Altamont." 
 
 Cordelia took the note, which, to her extreme "sur- 
 prise, contained an acknowledgment of the money lent 
 to Mrs. Woodville, and a request that he would accept 
 the inclosed in payment. 
 
 *' I assure you," added Adela, with a malicious smile, 
 *• I had some difficulty in coaxing that bit of paper out 
 of him. It was merely to quiet y(»ur apprehensions for 
 his safety that I asked the boon ; but I ]»romised not to 
 shew it to Valiancy ; so you see he is well at least, if he 
 is not happy." 
 
 *' I can perceive," said Cordelia, " that he is at least 
 honorable, and inde])endent." 
 
 It was easy to divine her friend's motive in making 
 this communication ^ and, for the first time, itoccuried 
 to her, that Sir Frederic was capable of artifice and du- 
 
VALSINORE. 2iB 
 
 plicity. Her estcom for Altamoiit was not destroyed by 
 the insinuations of Miss Roitvigny, who cnnl'cssed to the 
 Baronet with some chagjin, that she had found her 
 friend more sceptical than she expected." 
 
 Tliis intelligence was sufficiently mortifying, as he 
 had emi)h)yed in this scheme a considerable portion of 
 ingenuity and address. 
 
 The idea had been suggested to his mind in one of his 
 friendly visits to Mrs. Woodville, who having sent to 
 London the 401. draft she had received from Altainont, 
 which was simply an order on Vailancy-s banker, was 
 inexpressibly cliagrincd when it was returned to her, 
 with the unpleasant intimation, that the banker, not 
 having received proper notice of the demand, refused 
 payment. 
 
 Sir Frederic, who was sitting with her on the receipt 
 of tlie letter, perceiving the change in her countenance, 
 easily prevailed on her to explain the nature of her em- 
 barrassment. He instantly offered to rectify the mis- 
 take ; supplied the sum she had expected to receive, and 
 took the order into his own possession, advising her to 
 transmit to Altamont an acc(uintof the transaction, 
 
 Mrs. Woodville obeycjl, and her letter, hai)pening to 
 reach Altamont nearly at the same time with Vallanev's 
 lae.uiic epistle, excitid, as Sir Frederic had fiueseeii, 
 strong resentment for his friend's levity and caprice. 
 
 Too much offended to avow displeasure, he i-etm-ned 
 no answci' ; but, scorning to remain under an obligati- 
 on to Sir Frederic M(>whray, borrowed of Mr. Bruce, 
 and n uiitttd to him a draft, inclosed in the note whicli 
 had be<'n sh"wn to Cordelia. Sir Firderic pivserved 
 this note with malicious eare ; and when Miss Rouvigny 
 intimrtTts'l, that she fear' d Cordelia was rendered unea- 
 sy by Altam<.ut''s silence, he ventured with some hesita- 
 tion to pi(!d;icv his signature as a proof of his existence ; 
 he tlieu rrliiled as much of the history a[)p luled to the 
 note as suited his own purpose, and l.ft her lo make 
 what report sin pleased to Cordelia; but with ,\ strict 
 inj'netic!! n it to divulge it to Valiancy. For tliis in- 
 juncuon he had^ whenever dctcctiou should occur^ the 
 
216 VALSrNORE. 
 
 all-prevail Inc: P^^a, that he would notajivr him pain j a 
 pka (Very day ptrverti'd to gloss (/vei- (lu[)licity, and 
 sai^iify decej)tirni. Had Adela possessed his address, 
 the »n-nti)ri .f Mvs. Woodvilie's convspondcnce, sup- 
 ported by thisdocunieiit, might have made some impi'ess- 
 ion on Cordelia's mind; but her friend's motives were 
 too pa{j>able to be n.istaken, aiul she pcihaps was more 
 than evei- attached to Altamont ; not for c rresponding 
 with a young and pretty woman, but fur being, as she 
 concv^ived, aspersed by calumny. In this insfauee, the 
 Baronet did not speculate with his usual felicity, b( ing 
 loweiTd in her esteem at the very moment when he ex- 
 pected to make s(jme progress in her legard. 
 
 Hi^ passion was now sustained by a spirit of oppositi- 
 on that ill aeoi'ded with th<' tenderness of affection. 
 Like the gamester, he had hazarded every thing on a 
 single stak( ; and, beyond the attainnunt of success, had 
 no df'cams of flicity, no anticipations of tliat mutual 
 confidi nee and seeunty, which are the true sources of 
 cl(.*;'Stic endearment. As his gratification was selfish 
 it w-,s limited. Conscious that he deserved not Corde*. 
 lia's love, he was unabis* to conceive that he should e^er 
 discard the vigilance and caution of jealousy. - In ob- 
 taining her hand, he expected net to satisfy her heart : 
 in supplanting his rival, he ,bope<l no^ to engross tlic 
 fe* lings so long devoted to artrtiH^r. Many circumstan- 
 ces, how;'v< r, conspired in his favor ; he had all the pri- 
 vileges of fr ir^idship ; and month after month elapsed 
 witiiout producing any tidings of Altamont, who was 
 now almost dismissed frojn Mi*^s Rouvigny's mind ; 
 whilst Conlelia so rarrly pr.nounce<l his name, that to 
 all but Sir Frederic it might have appeivrc I. Hiat the in- 
 teresting s'.bjcet of her thoughts was consigned not 
 merely to silence but to oblivion. 
 
TALSINORE. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. .! 
 
 ALTAMONT had left Eng-laiul witjftlie persuasion, 
 that ibir Frederic iM(»\vbiay wouhl r\(M devote, his hand 
 and heart to Cord-Iia. To relieve tlici tortui-os of sus- 
 pense he had wiitti n to Mrs. Woodville, and was inex- 
 pressibly chagiined to find she was so far distant from 
 Beaclidale. Unfortunately too, though Sir Frederic had 
 taken the precaution to inform her that the letter intrust- 
 ed to his care had been lost, she had suppressed all men-«^ 
 tion of this circumstance; purely because, as she sup- 
 posed it to have been written on her account, she wriuld 
 not occasion additional trouble to her husband's friend. 
 Altamont was, therefore, disapp!)inted at Conlelia's si- 
 lence, tliough without ever having hoped for her cor- 
 ^ respondence ; he endeavored, iiuleed, to pei-suade him- 
 [ self he was philosophic enough to renounce her ; and 
 fancied he was making some progress in his restoration, 
 to mental independence, when a letter from Mrs. Glad- 
 win, who, though she no longer saw any of the De 
 liiile's, had lately heard of thim in London, announced 
 the intended marriage of Valiancy with Miss Rouvigny, 
 and of Cordelia to Sir Frederic ^Iowbray. 
 
 Though the source of this intdligi-nco was somewhat 
 suspicious, he did not, at first, hesitatf. to admit its au- 
 thenticity ; at fii'st, too, he fancied it was a rrli<4' to es- 
 cape from suspense to arrive at any ctTtainty however 
 unwelcome, to exeliangc doubt aiul solicitude for imiif- 
 fcrence and despondence : but where was now his pro- 
 fession, his occupation, the sphere of usefidness and ac- 
 tivity in which he had so lately hop- J to arrive at hon- 
 orable eminence ? His engagement had been formed 
 I under Cordelia's auspices , without her he lost the ener- 
 gy inspired by hope ; no other object could gild tlie per- 
 spective of a long and dreary pn^bation j he had no ear- 
 nest of reward ; no solace for the laborious pursuits and 
 distasteful drudgery inseparable from the profession. 
 
 T 
 
21* TAISIXORE. 
 
 Like Woodville, lie had dwdt too mncli in liis own 
 woild ; lie was too familiar with the ditams of fancy, 
 too^uth refined by fastidious sensibility, for persevering 
 ■e^^rtion or liealtbful enjoyment. RelieAed from all anx- 
 iety on his mother's account, he liad no moiivcs of duty 
 to rouse liim from inactivity ; he had almost determined 
 to renounce his En^^lish connections, and make a pedes- 
 trian tour over Europe, when love, disguised as pride, 
 prompted him to return to England, to prove that he 
 was still ambitious of Cordelia's esteem, and not un- 
 Avortliy of her friendship. 
 
 He had no S'.,-oner arrived at this decision than his la- 
 tent hopes revived, and he became impatient to com- 
 menee his journey. No objections were started by his 
 mother or Mr. Bruce ; but to execute a commission for 
 thv' latter, he made a deviation from tiie regular road, 
 Aviiich considerably retarded his pi-ogress. Provoked 
 by these unseasonable delays, he w as amazed at his re- 
 cent listlessness and resignation, and magnanimously 
 resvjlved never again to submit to the same impression. 
 Impatience became his active principle, till he found him- 
 self near London, when, by a strange contradiction, he 
 wished himself at a hundred miles distance. 
 
 To what purpose should he be near Cordelia if they 
 never meet ? and how shall he intrude on her father's 
 notice ; how endure the exultation of her supposed lov- 
 er ? Since his arrival in England he had already ob- 
 served in the papers an intimation of Valiancy's nuptials, 
 but not one syllable of feir Fi'ederic Mowbi'ay. He still 
 indulges a hope that resists annihilation ; and as he rolls 
 along the streets feels reanimated, even by the conscious- 
 ness of breathing in the same city as Cordelia. 
 
 Wlien the carriage sto])t, he suffered his baggage to 
 be carried into the inn, and tijen pniceeded mechanically 
 tow'aids tlie hotel where he had last i)ai'ted from Valian- 
 cy. As lie approached the house he felt his arm grasped, 
 and, turning round, behe'd not his volatile, thoughtless, 
 captioi'S friend, but the generous, the venerable Haller, 
 <* And am 1 so soon fori^-ctlen ?" said the sage, perceiv- 
 ing his amazement, Tlie joy that flushed from Alta- 
 
YALSINORE. 219 
 
 niont*s eyes contradicted the assertion ; mutual enquiries 
 and explajiatioiis snccccdcd j and Altamonl knint lliat 
 llalI»M-liad arrived i>i London buttlie inccediiia; eveuiiij^, 
 and was to leave it in a few hours. '« Let iis s«]>«'nd 
 this little interval to.a;<'ther," said the old man, eonduct- 
 inr; him to ids «(iiarlers ; ♦• and now tell inr IJiat >ou 
 are |irei)aring to prove yourself an Kn2;lisfinian. It 
 is time 1 should hear of your exertions, as well as your 
 attainments." 
 
 *< Altaiuont shook liis head. " It is true I eame to 
 this country with the iTsolution to redeem wasted time, 
 but a spell overhangs my destiny, a?id there is one con- 
 tingency on which 1 should leave it, perhaps, forever." 
 
 *• Rouse, Altamont ; a noble mind should break the 
 enchantment. Is reason, trutli, or principle, to litng 
 suspended by a poor contingency? Tliis soj)histi,\ is 
 all passion and dclusimi ; you dream to-night, you will 
 awake to-moT'ro\v ; you will tlie next day wonder wlionce 
 came the ])hantoni so lately invested with omuipotence." 
 
 Altamont, C(mvinced, but not persuaded, was unable 
 to \'c[t\y ; thei'c was a short ])ause, w hen Haller s:ud, 
 ** Where is the volatile Valiancy, and his sedate grand- 
 father ? Where is (he jiolislied De Lille, and, above all, 
 tlie ingenuous Cordelia?" 
 
 " With Valiancy I have lately bad no correspondence: 
 but I find be is soon to he married to Miss Rouvigny; 
 and Corddia to Sir Frederic Mow bray." 
 
 *' Indeed, said Haller, looking incredulous, " I 
 should almost doubt that intelligence." 
 
 Altamont, thrown off his guard, exclain»ed with rap- 
 ture, ♦< You really doubt ? She is in London ; when 
 will you visit her?" 
 
 ♦• Nut till I have accomplished the j)urpose for w hich 
 I lefl (iermany. Not till I return from tiie retreat to 
 wind) J am now hastening, perhaps for hei" sakt ; an 
 old man is not swayed b\ contingencies; and the y»>i<ng 
 man who would rise, above an ordinary lev<'l in f{<me or 
 Ti''ttr.>. rn.;st r'Sti-itin the vagrant iunvilses. v- iucli < ither 
 render liiin weak or wickul. miserable or contemptible." 
 
 T2 
 
"1 
 
 4 
 
 ^0 TALSINORE. 
 
 He then changed tlie subject. AUamont was again 
 sensible to the inttuen(re of liis precepts. 
 
 « You will call nie unfeeling," said Haller, « if I tell 
 you, that the mots of liunian misery are to be found in an 
 ill regulated imagination. To yon, indeed, misery is 
 but a name, without a substantial image ; but if you can 
 spare me two hours, 1 will introduce you to a scene 
 which may at once iiispire fortitude and pity." 
 
 Altamont readily acquiesced ; and, renovated by Hal- 
 ler's incrediility to the report of Cordelia's marriage, 
 resolved not to let the morrow close without making an 
 «ffort to see her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE friends stepped into a hackney-coach, which 
 convt yed them to tbe entrance of a prison. " I never 
 come to a gi*eat city," said Haller, " without paying a 
 visit to these haunts of terror and remorse. It is one of 
 the hardest trials I can impose on my nature, and is the 
 only penance to wliich I now submit for errors which, I 
 trust, have been expiated by former suffering. I carry 
 with me a purse, which affords relief to some few 
 debtors ; hut for the other unforttmates what shall 
 be done I Seldom is it in the power of any man to offer 
 hope, and without it, what is consolation? I do not 
 bring you here to soften your heart, but to call youi* at- 
 tention to an evil which demands redress ; the debtor is 
 immured under the same roof, and often witliin the same 
 cell, viis the ci'iniinal ; and the man who has, perhaps, 
 been only weak and unfortunate, is degraded by asso- 
 ciation with the guilty : attend to this, and let it be one 
 of your future objects to remove the obloquy from your 
 national legislature." He then ushered him into some 
 of the condemned cells ; from thence they |)rocee(^ed to 
 the other c:)url:s of the prison. Haller having jnade en- 
 quiry concerning some petty dehtors whoai he wished to 
 
YAXSINORE. 221 
 
 liberate, and not clioosin.j^ to Iiavc any witness of liis 
 bountV) <I sired Altamoiit to wait in one of the outer 
 courts, wliilsl lio proceeded on l»is mission of charity. 
 
 As he was Iip)*c runiinating' with that solemn awe 
 which imptrss s an unhackneyod mind on the contem- 
 plation of h nnan calamity, he obs 'rved a pretty little 
 boy, aixxit tlii-e ■ years ohl, i«s lin'^ from one of the pass- 
 ages; h ihiiiiu: in his hand a ball, with which he was 
 amusin.^ Ins solititih". Altamnnl drew near, not a little 
 surpris'd at Ids beauty , the neatness of his divss, and 
 his air of j^-ntl iiess and courtesy. Tlii^ litth' fellow at 
 lirsi relrealed, as if lie liad been afraid he should be cii'- 
 ciimsciiluMl in his lil>eiiy. •• Where do you live, my 
 pretty cliild ?'* *• Witli maiiinia." •' And where is 
 that ?*' The boy tinned towards the ])assa.a:e whence 
 he had issued, and then h)oked l»ack, as if be had offer- 
 ed to show his habitalion. Altamont followed, almost 
 mechanically, till tiie c'.iild led him to a door which was 
 fastenoil within; here he tappc<l. callin.^ out mamma; 
 and at the sound of his soft ])laiij1ive voice the door was 
 opened, and Altamont was admitted with him. 
 
 The room was so daik, that on his first entrance, he 
 merely perceived a female fi.^Mire standing on one side, 
 and at the other end a man reclining on a couch ; but 
 no sooner was the door closed than the lady uttered a 
 piercing shriek, and he recognized ^Irs. Woodville ; hej* 
 husband, starting from his retreat, flew to her relief, 
 but on discovering Altamont, s])read his haiuls over his 
 face ; whilst his wife, falling on her knees, exclaimed, 
 <* Oh, do not, do not ruin him •, for mci'c> 's sake be- 
 friend him.'' In the utmost astonishment AUamoiit de- 
 manded an ex])lanation. '* Do you not know ? Oh, yet 
 then all is well!" and rising with precipitation, sh^ 
 bolted the door, and looking around with fearful vigi- 
 lance, said, almost in a whisper, ♦< Then pray don't 
 
 ^|«ay y<iu knew him ; you could not bear t(» betray him ; 
 'tw'.mld break ymir heart to do it ; oh, your heai't is 
 kiml and good, I know it widl.** 
 
 Here Altamont. ncollecting th*^ terrible impression 
 
 .J. h» kad i-eccivedtMi the heath, exclaimed, " OU! Wood- 
 
222 VALSINOKE. 
 
 ville, can I believe what I have seen, what I now sP/e 2*' 
 
 »' No," cried !iis wile, chisping her hands in agouy, 
 ** no, no, you have not .sc<^n, yoci merely fancied that 
 you saw; 'twas all a dream j you did not, could not, 
 know him." 
 
 At this moment, Wood ville, uncoverinp^ his face, cried, 
 ** Do not talk thus, my love ; for, sunk as 1 have b'^en, 
 wretched as 1 must be, I would not purciiase existeniJ^ 
 by a friend's perjury." 
 
 " But Sir Frederic," she cried, « has assured me 
 there can be no other evidence produced." At tlie name 
 of Sir Frederic, Altamont listened with yet stronger in- 
 terest ; and he now learnt that Woodville, who had re- 
 turned but a few weeks before from the West Indies, 
 had been recognized by De Lille in the gallery of the 
 House of Commons ; and being, as he supposed, traced 
 to his lodging, was the next morning apprehended and 
 taken into custody. 
 
 After his commitment, Sir Frederic had visited him 
 in prison, professed the utmost sorrow for his situation, 
 ^nd declared, that had De Lille been apprised of his former 
 intimacy witli Valiancy, he would by no means have en- 
 gaged in the prosecution. He added, however, that as 
 Altamont had been sj ated to be the only witness of the 
 fact, it was impossible to criminate him without his tes- 
 timony j and that on the failure of such evidence he must 
 be discharged without a trial. 
 
 Valiancy, though unable to prevail on himself to visit 
 a prison, had remitted money through the medium of 
 Sir Frederic, and had written to Geneva to acquaint 
 Altamont witii the melancholy transaction, and to pi*event 
 his immediate return to England. 
 
 Having related these particulars, Mrs. Woodville, 
 throwing herself at Altamont's feet, exclaimed, " If you 
 are seen and known we are undone. Forgive this im- 
 portunity i to us every moment is precious : save him, 
 and my children will ever, ever bless you." 
 
 Here the little boy put up his hands, in imitation of 
 Ms mother, whilst the father exclaimed, " When I first 
 tsmi iuUier she believed me iimuceut ^ wUcu I confess^ 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
VALSINORE, 2JS 
 
 C(l all to her, I seemed to have notliing more to suffer. 
 .Altamont! should I die by your evidence, I must yet 
 hlfss you as my preserver: you saved me from that 
 desperate deed : your voice recalled me from p* idi- 
 tion r 
 
 *' Cease, if you would not kill me," cried Mrs. 
 W'oodville, direct! U2J an imploring; look to Aitamont. 
 
 *< Be calm, dear Madam, 1 will instantly tly from 
 tills country : from me you shall have notliine; to fear ;" 
 then hastily unbolting the door, ho was pnparing to 
 withdraw, when, to his consternation, the veneral)le Hal- 
 ler entered. A deep crimson flushed Woodville's cheeks, 
 and his wife obseivinsj that Altamont was known to the 
 stranger, staggered to a seat, and sunk down, the imag^c 
 of despondence. 
 
 " Am I quite forgotten," said the sage, with a mildly 
 reproachful aspect. 
 
 " Never," cried Woodville, « never can I forget the 
 debt of gratitude 1 owe you." 
 
 " I fear," said Ualler, <• you are now suffering un- 
 der still greatei' calamity ; but you are, I doubt not, 
 supported by the consciousness of innocence," 
 
 There was a momentary pause. Mrs. Woodville, re- 
 covering presence of mind, exclaimed, " Oh yes, he is, 
 he must be innocent." 
 
 « Then fear nothing ; it is the privilege of every 
 Englisliman to be protected by the laws of his country. 
 If this charge be brought forwai*d in malice, it will be 
 defeated of its end." 
 
 Here Woodville, raising his eyes, whilst hectic color 
 flushed his cheeks, said, " Your friend. Sir, can best ex- 
 plain why I am here ; and as the hist favor I shall, per- 
 haps, ever ask, L earnestly beseech Mm to relate to you 
 all he knows of this unfoitunate tiansHi^tioii." 
 
 At these words his wife relaps«'d into tei-ror ; her 
 limbs shook — her heart beat audibly — the cold <lr<)ps of 
 sweat stood on her forehead — her lips moved — she strug- 
 gled to speak, but a convulsive groan ahme escaped 
 her. 
 . ►. « My love, forgive me," cried Woodville j "but I 
 
224 VALSIWOBE. 
 
 would not tleceive my benefactor for worlds. "Vo, no," 
 added he, his eyes once more bea'uing witli generous 
 exultation, " there is a point of degradation not to be 
 survived." 
 
 Haller now comi)rehen(ling the whole, taking her 
 hand with a look of in ftniiJe benignity, said, ♦• Be com- 
 forted, ^^c are all faithfiii fiiends." 
 
 W oodville then drew from his pocket an ujifinished 
 letter, and, giving it to Altaniont, said, " This will ex- 
 plain what cannot be excused." 
 
 At that nictmeiit lialierpronorinced his farewell in the 
 most soothing accent. Altaniont ((.IJowed liiu) in sih Jice 
 to the portal of the prison, wh<re having le-enteivd the 
 coach that was in waiting for thtni, lie dr; w up both 
 glasses, and leaned back in his seai as if lie had still been 
 conscious to Mrs. Woodville's terrors. After a mourn- 
 ful pause, he began to relate the adventure on the heath ; 
 but suddenlj^ interrupting himself, exclaimed, ♦♦ Akid yet 
 it seems but a dream, — the man to whom I have looked 
 up with such admiration 5 the accon)plished l>eing to 
 whose precepts i have so often listened with delight." 
 
 *' I see," replied Halier, *< how it has been : you 
 stall alight at the hotel, whilst I return to the prison, 
 to give them comfort : wait but here an hour, and you 
 shall hear what has passed." 
 
 This suggestion was pursued ; Altamont withdrew to 
 a private a})ai tment, and there i*cad tlie following letter : 
 
 " It is some years since J last addressed you ; — to 
 me it appears to have been many «ges. I have exi>e- 
 rienced such awful changes ; I have fallen into such an 
 abyssof misery I Scaic« ly w ill you comprehend by what 
 infatuation I have been involved in this stupendous ca- 
 lamity. 
 
 " On retracing my steps T am astonished T could have 
 mistaken my duty ; the ])ath was too obvious tx) be miss-' 
 ed. I had unhappily cherished a sentiment of egotism, 
 wliich led ii.c to ascribe to untoward circumstances all 
 the errors in my conduct, all tlie iniirmilies of mj nature. 
 At |>res« nt, 1u»w light ap])ear those evils at which I once 
 le^uued; aud which my «wn weakness ixinUereU omnipo* 
 
VALSTPJORE. ft2S 
 
 tent. Oh ! Altamont, when I recollect at what plian- 
 tomsl once started, by what chinicrical bari-iers 1 was 
 once appalled ; and Kxtk at tlie substantial walls of my 
 prison, and feel at my lieait the insufterable woi.^lit of 
 remorse, I am stiipificd witli .a:riif, my rfastn is shaken ; 
 I lose myself in dee]) and feai ful amazement. 
 
 ** The true source of my misery has been the weak 
 and pernicious indulij;ence of an ardent and too suscepti- 
 ble imagination. From early }outh, whilst I basked in 
 the sunshine of pros])erity, 1 was accustomed to impov- 
 erish my stock of happiness by an anxions anticipation 
 of enjoyment : at that period when I was called amia- 
 ble, and Ihelan.^uage of candor dwelt on my lips, I har- 
 bored a fastidious spirit, repugnant to friendsliip and 
 benevolence ; 1 mcasui-ed character by other rides than 
 those of truth and rectitude ; 1 required a certain fan- 
 tastic elegance, a romamic delicacy and refinement, to 
 excite conficU'nce and aftVction ; and seldom could any 
 being be found to satisfy my visionary expectation. 
 Wlien it was my fortune to taste of adversity, to be ex- 
 posed to trials and disappointments, 1 was still the same 
 creature of impulse, the fool of fancy, the victim of ca- 
 price ! I could now discein the modifications of egotism 
 in the false shame shuddering at the detection of povir- 
 ty ; the spurious delicacy, shrinking from exertion ; the 
 mock dignit} , not oidy i-efusing st-licitatinn, but almost 
 depreciating assistance. Whatever '■ attempted, failed; 
 my efforts were too spiritl ss to succeed, (ften were 
 the interests of my Nvit» an*} c'- irien sacrificed to the 
 stubl)orn pretensions oi priue, iinti the puerile affectation 
 of magnanimity. 
 
 ♦* At length, when I saw the dear infants committed 
 to my care, witlirring with disease, their mother faded, 
 • and myself vast! ng in premature decay, 1 becanu' im- 
 pressed with a drradful ])resage, that 1 was destined to 
 commit some atrocious crime. 
 
 *' In vain did I seek t'> escape this new chimera of a 
 restless imagination. Itwasadaik speck ever fiitting 
 before my sight ; and shuddering at the penalties of re- 
 morse, 1 longed most passionately for the moment of my 
 
226 VALSTNORE. 
 
 dissolution. One day when I had loft home to attend 
 a few ])u]nls, and iifteiwai'ds failed in my a])plifatinu 
 for money which was really owinj; to nie, but for which 
 I still wantvd the courai^e to proclaim my pressing neces- 
 sities: it siiddenl_y occurred to me, that if 1 was to leave 
 Londiin and enter as a sailor, I should, at least, escape 
 the ignominy of a jail, with which I had heen repeatedr- 
 ly menaced by an impatient creditor. I had been wan- 
 dering all the day, and, on returning in the evening, 
 fancied 1 caught a glimpse of your face, and that you 
 looked after me as if you exj^ected a I'ecognition •, to 
 escape such notice, I proceeded in an opposite direction 
 from my own habitation, to the west en(l of the town : 
 from a sudden im])ti!se of desperation, I placed myself 
 on the top of one of the public stages, and v as conveyed, 
 before morning, to a considerable distance fron) London. 
 Luckily I had left it doubtful whether to return to my 
 wife on that evening ; I therefore trusted she would not 
 experience much solicitude for my absence. I proceed- 
 ed without any settled purpose to an obscure village, and 
 there finding my money reduced to one shilling, and 
 having nothing in my pocket but a pistol, which with 
 superfluous caution I had been accustomed to carry with 
 me in m\ little excursions nearLondcm, J alighted ; and 
 having pi'oeured bread to satisfy hunger, sti-uck into the 
 neigliboring fields, and there spent several hours in 
 gloon-y solitude, abandoned to the most dark and teri'ible 
 inediliitions. 
 
 *• Hitherto, ardently as 1 lonsed for death, the idea 
 of SM?ci(le had never been admiti* d to my mind. The 
 rites ifourcliurch had rendered i( aldiorr-nt to my 
 thoiiglits ; but now. that the self-erealed nhnntou* ofim- 
 agiiiiition pursued my stej)S. thai the sciift' Id or the gib- 
 hi-L rose l)efore my e}(s. that I sjin u»y children srigma- 
 tisi d for m,» \Yjetch"<I sjike, I resisted no htnger : I even 
 bill -ved they woiJd find f» lends when I was no longer 
 with ihem } and tirat the CMise bv w'lich J was pursued 
 Wi)i.|:) b'i p jtealed wIi'mi nr, fate ^\'.\-: sevrd f'^n iheii-s. 
 Froi.: Miis s«:,i!-;:estior3 1 .si:m>! d Ci i!(i;ge. p.nd en'-, waited 
 for a favorable luoiiicnt to fulfil m^ awful purpose. At 
 
VALsiNeRE. 22ir 
 
 this moment T was accosted by a bci^^ar woman, with 
 two liili>lrss ijilanis, soliciting my cliiu ity ; I stalled 
 from lur witii hoi ror ; nij own wile and lailKrlcss cliiU 
 drcii came before my eyes ! 1 cursed my coNMirdly piir- 
 pose of dcscition ; and i-ushing towards (he heath, ox- 
 chumed, • llather let me perish for their sake in fulfill- 
 ing my destiny.' *#*#** Al(an)ont, you 
 can fill u|) lliis blank. Y^m well know wliosi- voice ar- 
 rested my hand, and recalli'd me to reason and nature. 
 I instantly retin-ncd to the road, an<l, sacrificing pride 
 to duty, solicited and obtained a gratuitous convey anco 
 to London. 
 
 *• When I arrived, it was yet early j I scarcely ven- 
 tured to hojje 1 sliould find any one risen in our habita- 
 tion ; I even dreaded to enouire for my wife. J Mas 
 prepossessed with the idia that some new calamity had 
 befallen hei* in my absence. I approached the house 
 with trembling liml)s ; 1 scarce lifted the knocker, and 
 then di'opped it with a most feeble sound ; but it was 
 suflicieiit for my wife's wakeful ear, she hurried down 
 stairs, she could scarcely contain her transports at my 
 return. My first impulse of joy was quickly clianged 
 for contrition and remorse; 1 evaded iier enquirirs. but 
 I could not silence her rapturous exclamations f >r my 
 safe!} . I secretly blessed lieaven fm* my escap*' ; I won- 
 dered at my own pervcision and delusion; and vowed 
 never again to desert her. 
 
 1 was soothing her with these assurances when the 
 door was opened, and after the circumlocution usual in 
 S»ieh Ciises, the writ was served, (in vvliich I was con- 
 ducted to prison, but almost immediately liberated by 
 the munilieence of a venerable man, who had no sooner 
 learnt that you had been my friend, than he became my 
 ben* factor." 
 
 Here the letter broke off. Altamont wns still musing 
 on its contents, when Haller re-entered ; from whom 
 he harnt that Woodville was to he remanded to the pri- 
 son olth'' county where the oflenee sviis committed ; liQ 
 added, that they had settled a plan for future corres- 
 pondence ; on his discharge he was to leave Eogland ; 
 
228 VAL81N0RE, 
 
 " and then," added llallcr, *' you will be at liberty to 
 return to it. Iji t!u- niCrtntinie, you could c ihbok me 
 mucli by partaking my jouriuy -, ajid I tliink it nmy open 
 to J on new sources of pleasure and intorniation." To 
 this proposal .Vltaujont returned a grate fisl aetiuicsceuee, 
 and in a few iiours they left London together. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 CORDELIA was naturally so ingenuous, that she 
 expeiionced pec-iliur pain in submitting to concealment j 
 confidence was lier eh ment ; and though long accustom- 
 ed to subdue h'-r will, she knew not hi>w to suppress her 
 feelings ; happily, the irksomeness of her situation was 
 soficnpd by t!it ingenious expedient of keeping a short- 
 hand jf.i rn;tl, wl:ich being written in a character she 
 had learn: from Altamont, seemed to establish a certain- 
 tacit con;munication between them. 
 
 The f IJowing extracts from this »Rcret register of 
 sentiment, will sufficiently prove how little time and ab- 
 sence 1 ad diminislied his influence on her affections. 
 
 *< Another day, another Meek is gone, and like the 
 fornio!- has not h ft one vestige of its course. I seem to 
 myself to be in a sort of trance, in which my most ac- 
 tive faculties are suspended. Those I meet with to-day 
 I sbrdl forget to-iuorrow , and shoidd 1 even live with 
 them a century, 1 should still know them as little as at 
 this moment : every thing is vague, desultory, and sha- 
 dovvy; the phantonis are forever changing; my own 
 sadness remains the same. A year ago, how different 
 were my feelings; how delightful was the month into 
 which we ar- n«)w enteiing. IJttle do those about me 
 auspect my r al motiv« fcr deciiiiing to join the brilliant 
 paj I V for this evening. 1 could not support the contrast 
 pr >•« nt; <] by H r<om croiuled with iniliff rent spectators, 
 to the recoUectio;! of that delicious scene which nature. 
 
TALSINORB 229 
 
 formed for our hearts, on which wc hoth gazed with such 
 dcliglit. It was there thaleonfulcnce was tstablished be- 
 tween us, and we became frienils. It appears to me 
 tliat life connucnced but from that moment j and I liold 
 its aimiversary too sacred to be wasted in frivolous 
 amusement. 
 
 " How little do tliey know my heart, who think that 
 its affections can be checked by so poor a thing as vanity. 
 They tell me he is susceptible of impressions ; that he 
 has been often touched, but never attached ; that he re- 
 sists love, and that ambition is the master passion of his 
 soul. 1 can listen to all this with patience, and even 
 with docility ; and yet is my faith unshaken in the rec- 
 titude of bis jninciples, his honor, and integrity. How, 
 indeed, should I exact constancy fi'om one, w ho receiv- 
 ed no hope? How should I expect him to waste in fojid 
 futile repinings those best and most piecious years of his 
 existence ? It would ill become him to yield to such 
 weakness. IIow" many women will he find to console 
 him for her he once loved ? Yes, it is proper he slioukl 
 respect himself, and act up to his dignity ; but with me 
 the case is quite otherwise. To what purpose should I 
 seek to wean my heart from him, who first infused into 
 it the love of virtue ? For w hom should I reclaim those 
 long dedicated affettions ? For an establishment, a title, 
 a name ? Oh how shall I learn to discover in these an 
 equivalent for Herbert ? To forget him, w ould be a de- 
 relictioji of principle and sentiment, a degradation of 
 character, an a]>ostacy equally base and contemptible. 
 What a perve»,jion of language, to talk of enjoying hap- 
 piness with any but the beings we love ! Happiness ? 
 it is surely an arbitrary idiom ; I lose all conception of 
 its meaning, |^ hen Adela tells me, Sir Frederic Mow- 
 bray is formed to give me happiness. I am not consci- 
 ous tiiat I cherish any pn judiee agaiiist liini. I can as- 
 sent to all the good she reports of this man ; and yet he 
 wants that openness of countenance, that manly frank- 
 ness, that energy of thought and feeling, which can 
 alone inspire my confidence. He is too cautious, too 
 circumspect, too measured, too elaborate, I will not say 
 
 U 
 
 ^ 
 
230 VALSINORE. 
 
 artificial, to give me ploasui'c. A week has been spent 
 in dissipation, and, nirtl)inks, I was never more com- 
 pletely in solitude, i endeavor to conceal wliat >vould 
 be called extravaj^ance and romance. I would not grieve 
 my father by declaring; that sjdendor oppresses me with 
 fatigue. 1 will not shock Adela by confessing that all I 
 ha\e seen in this great city, would not compensate for 
 the sacrafice of one dear quiet delicious hour at Beach- 
 dal' . If 1 siiould be called romantic, 1 cannot help it. I 
 am incapable of altering my tastes ; pleasure must be 
 spontanetjus ; [ cannot force my heart to dance with 
 hope, to throb witb delight. A year ago, those sensa- 
 tions came to it without a prompter. 
 
 «' The knot is tied. Adela will, I trust, be happy 
 with her Valiancy i gay, I should rather say, since nei- 
 ther of them seems to understand the pensive spirit of 
 happiness. They know not how much two intelligent 
 hearts can bestow. There is a little world within the soul, 
 to which they have nevei* penetrated ; it was surely re- 
 served for the unprosperous, or those, at least, who have 
 no part in the revolutions of fortune. It is the paradise 
 of adversity, into which the great cannot entei*. 
 
 *' This Sir Fredeiic gives me pain ; his attentions 
 are now too marked to be mistaken ; yet, will he not be 
 explicit enough to allow me the privilege of explanation. 
 I have repeatedly avowed before him, my election of the 
 single state : he has seen with what firmness I withstood 
 raillery and even reproach ; he will, perhaps, spare us 
 the mutual pain of I'ejection. I fear my father is inter- 
 ested in his success. How often have I wished that he 
 had another daughter, who could enter into his views of 
 life, and gratify that ambition of which I am unable to 
 participate ! I am grieved to discover this eternal bar- 
 rier between us : sonn^times he looks at me \\ith such 
 pleasaie, and so kindly anticipates my wishes ; he even 
 permits me to be bis almoner, he desires me to distribute 
 a part of his property in charity. In such moments I 
 "^vould give the world to make him happy ; every thing 
 but my heart, and that is inalienable." 
 I mmediatcly on the marriage of Valiancy and Miss 
 
VALSINOBE. U.oi 
 
 Rouvigny, tlicy set out accompanied by Cordelia, on a 
 tour throiigli WaUs, tVoni wiienc- they proceeded to Ire- 
 land, with the inteniion of spending some months among 
 the beautiful scenes of Killarney. 
 
 The bride had a villa in the nei;^hborhood of Mucruss ; 
 wliieh having been her fatlier's bii'th place, was on that 
 account particularly selected for t!uM!- retreat. It was 
 a house in the cottage style, einctcd at the foot f Green- 
 hill, and commanded various interesting views of the 
 lake. 
 
 Cordelia was charmed with the retreat ; but she soon 
 found that it was suftlciently accessible to society. Sev- 
 eral of Vallanc\'s acquaintance were in the neighbor- 
 liood as tourists ; with whom many parties Wi-re formed, 
 and many aquatic excuisions pi-ojected. The first week 
 brought another visitor, who, to tiie Valiancy's at least, 
 was neither unexpected nor unwelcome : this \\as Sir 
 Fi*ederic Mowbray, who had suddeidy discovered some 
 serious call of business to Dubliju and most ingeniously 
 contrived that his friend De Lille should have the same 
 motives for taking the journey. Sym]»athy did not. how- 
 ever, conduct the latter to Gi-eenhill ; he contiiitod him- 
 self with paying a visit to one of Sir Frederic's friends, 
 at about forty miles distance, where he was sufticiently 
 near to watch the progiess of his suit, and to aid it with 
 all his parental influence. As he was persuaded tliat 
 Cordelia iiad no correspondence with Alfanuynt, the Ba- 
 ronet hoped to find her disposed to rec<'ive impressions 
 in his own favor; he trusted she would be stimulated by 
 picpie or jealousy, or ambition, to give him encourage- 
 ment; hut he VNas deceived ; her rejection was decided, 
 though softened with assurances of esteem, and profess- 
 ions of friendshij). 
 
 Cordelia imagined he ])rofessed too much delicacy and 
 generosity to persist in his im]»ortunities ; but she also 
 was deceived : he renewed his S(dicitations, enforced 
 with all the elo({uence of Mrs. Valiancy ; ho even ])ro- 
 tested he should relinquisji ho])e, but with life. 
 
 Cordelia, shuddering at his vehemence, exclaimed, 
 « When you know all, you \\ ill retract this sentiment." 
 
 U3 
 
233 VAISINORB. 
 
 For the first time it occurred to him, that she miglrt 
 liave formed some clandestine engagement, and he cried 
 with unguarded warmth, *< Sui-ely you cannot belong 
 to another?" 
 
 " I will not deceive you. I have formed no engage- 
 ment, btit to you I dare not be disingenuous.. You ask- 
 ed for my heart, and it cannot be given twice. After 
 this frankness, you will not 1 am sure renew the only 
 subject which can ever make a breach in our friendship." 
 
 Disconcerted by her ingenuous simplicity, he took her 
 offered hand in sullen silence j but soon recollecting him- 
 self, replied, " But if that heart should be reclaimed, 
 should you be but once convinced, that it lias been thrown 
 away on one who cares not for the gem 1 would give my 
 life to purchase ; should it be proved that the man pre- 
 ferred to me is an ungrateful prodigal, will you then^ 
 Cordelia, condemn me to despair ?" 
 
 " I did not expect. Sir, my frankness would extort 
 such cruel insinuations, but the heart which had been 
 so blasted would be unworthy of your acceptance ; and 
 pardon me if I add, that were I once so cruelly deceiv- 
 ed, I vshould lose all faith in human virtue." 
 
 Sir Frederic perceiving he had gone too far, passi« 
 onately conjured her to projiounce his pardon. 
 
 <•' Well, then, let all the past be consigned to oblivi- 
 on ; let this be a farewell to the subject." 
 
 " It will be more easy to say farewell to life, Corde- 
 lia." 
 
 She left him witli extreme sadness ; seriously alarmed 
 by his perseverance, and anxious to extinguish those 
 Lopes she could not realize. She immediately wrote to 
 lier father, avowing what had past, and intreating his 
 permission to return with him to England. Though 
 naturally timid, the apprehension of exciting his dis- 
 pleasure, was less powerful than the dread of failing in 
 lier own internal fidelity to Altamont. Foi" (he rest of 
 the day, she avoided her importunate lover; and in the 
 evening, when the company went as usual on the lakcj 
 contrived to se])arate herself from him entirely, by going 
 in another barge. Vexed at this desertion, he proposed 
 
v.iisiyoRE. 23.» 
 
 to Mrs. Valiancy to land at the peninsnla, to explore tlic 
 habitation of a recluse, who liad for some time lixeU in 
 this neij^hborhood. Th{>iii2;h averse to society, he had 
 been occasionally met in his lonely rambles, and was of- 
 ten seen in a light boat, navigated by an Irish boy, wlio 
 formed part of his small houshold. He was supposed to 
 be fond of music, as tlie minstrels of Killarney were of- 
 ten hired to play on the lake, which was at a short dis- 
 tance from his sequestered dwelling. Mrs. Valiancy's 
 curiosity being strongly excited by this description, the 
 whole party landed at Caniillan point. The ])ath run- 
 ning over a ledge of rocks, proved tedious and fatiguing. 
 Valiancy at length observe<l, he saw ?io vestige of any 
 human habilition. " Yet," iTplied Sir Frederic, •« you 
 are now within a few paces of the entrance; that ash 
 tree springs from the rock which conceals the roof." 
 
 Mrs. Valiancy advanced with ivdoubled eagerness, 
 when lo ! in the narrow pass before them appeared two 
 men bearing a coffin, which was destined f >r the recluse. 
 At this unwelcome sight she started, and insisted on 
 turning back ; she even returned w ith precipitation, and 
 eagerly seated h<istlfin the barge, as if she still feared 
 she was pursued by tlic image of death. During this in- 
 terruption. Sir Frederic regained his accustomed station 
 by Cordelia. Some of the company waited foi* the re- 
 turn of the two men, from whom they learnt, that the 
 deatli of the recluse was occasioned by his having fallen, 
 a few days before, from the cliff; some internal injury 
 having catised Ids dissolution. 
 
 " llis name," said Sir Fi'ederic, observing she was 
 interested in the subject, *• was as singular as his cha- 
 racter : he was called Valsinore.'* 
 
 « Valsiuore !" eclioed Cordelia, with unutterable as- 
 tonishment, •< arc you siu'e it was Valsinore ?" 
 
 « Yes, that was the name.'* 
 
 Is it possil)lc. thought she, it should have been Alta- 
 mont's mysti'rious friend ? SJic w as more reserved than 
 ever to Sir Frederic. The name of V.ilsinore brought 
 Altamont before her eyes ; and she could scarcely feci 
 cumplacciicy for bis rival. She was otTeudeU with iu^ 
 
 US 
 
\r,i 
 
 23* VALSIXORE. 
 
 po)'severanpp ^ sl»c secnlly accused liim of wanting deli- 
 cacy iind .^iiivicsily ; and nrithcr looked at liiiu nor 
 sp ke to !iif:., but ^^i{h npiiuMiiiiice. 
 
 That ni.u,!it Cordelia felicitated' herself in her journal, 
 on having taken the first stej)s to ciii'e iiis passion ; but 
 tlie next morning slic was not a little suipiiscd to find 
 him missing at tlic breakfast table. Mrs. Valiancy in- 
 formed lier with much ciiagrin, that he had left the house 
 at day break, and witiiout any intimaticm of his return. 
 *:* I am grieved, (wrote Cordelia,) tltat I treated an old 
 friend with such iinkindness : why wotdd he not sooner 
 pi'ove that he possessed delicacy and generosity ? Me- 
 tliinks I would fain sooth liim with renewed assurances 
 of my esteem a»id friendship.'* These reflections pre- 
 vented her not from thinking of Valsinore : but the sub- 
 ject was distasteful to Adela, and the house was full of 
 company, and resounded with music and merriment. 
 
 On the third evening after Sir Frederic's departure^ 
 she excused hei-self from attending her friends on the 
 lake, and indulged her pensiveness with a ramble to 
 ^lucruss Abbey ; once the venerable seat of njonastic 
 learning, and still the popular place of interment. On 
 approaching these venerable \yalls she passed an oak> 
 that appeared coeval with their foundation ; and on en- 
 tering the grove of ash-trees leading to the church, she 
 seemed to have suddenly plunged into tl»c shades of 
 night : she found the doojs of the Abbey open ; a funer- 
 al procession having just crossed the cloister, towards 
 the cemetery, unattended by the crouds and boisterous 
 clamors s') common \Aith the Irisli people. The pall had 
 fcutfo'.r supporters, and was followed by as many mourn- 
 ers* whrse siknc'-^ deepened the iiupressions of religious 
 solemnity. Cordelia approaclied with secret awe the 
 patriarciifl yew, whose dusky foliage, fitfully moved by 
 the hat's r; stling [nidons, threw over the antique pillarsv 
 and e.e"' 1 ng eclioing aisle, a sortof supeistitious gloom 
 and f a. f il obscurity : whilst every object presented an 
 imatie of deaths or a memorial of desolation. She ad- 
 "vaneod t(; the narrow postern through which the ])rocess- 
 km Liad Uisappc^'cd; and wUkli evidently conducted t^ 
 
VALo..; 
 
 the clianibers of tlse dead. As slsc lins^rrod near the 
 portal, slic recalled Altanifnif's dt sciiptioii oi" his scnsa- 
 tious Oil desce.idin.e: to IleiTulaiieuin ; and \v;is still me- 
 ditating; on tills siihject, when the procession rc-ciossed 
 the eloistei', and she observed that one ol" the mourners 
 was missijry; ; it innnedlately occurred to her. that he 
 was perhaps the only one really interested iii the late of 
 the deceased, and that he had returned to the j^rave to 
 weep unobserved. Touched with this reflection, she 
 waited for liis return, till she fancied she heard a deep 
 e,roan ; pity giviii!^ her courage, siic was advancing to- 
 wards the passage whence the sound proceeded, when 
 she felt her arm grasped, and turning round, beheld Sic 
 Frecki'ic Mowbray. It lequired some foiiitude to su])- 
 press the cmotipn of terror this sudden ajiparition exci- 
 ted; but her own agitation seemed not equal to his. He 
 trembled as he drew her away, exclaiming, *' Cordelia, 
 whither arc you going ? let me bear you from this house 
 of death." She was at first ])assivc from surprise ; but 
 when she reached the extremity of the cloister, she re- 
 collected the groan, and enti'cated him to return to the 
 assistance of the solitary nmurner, 
 
 ** Let me first see you in safety," replied he, hurry- 
 ing her on, till they again emergc^l to the open day, 
 where she pei-ceived De Lille, who, at Sir Frederic's 
 request, undei-took to explore the cloisters, whilst he 
 attended (Cordelia to the cottage. 
 
 *< In their way he informed her, that having met with 
 her father on his way to Dublin, he had returned witli 
 liim to Greepjiill. " Not," added he reproachfully, 
 <« again to offend you with my importunities : 1 am go- 
 ing to another part of the country. I should not even 
 have staid here one night, had I not been alarmed for 
 your safety, by hearing of your solitary ramble." 
 
 " And what danger could be apprehended in this 
 peaceful sjiot ?" 
 
 " Oh, there is danger every where. — Have you seen 
 no one ?" 
 
 *♦ Only a funeral procession." 
 *' And had yon I'Cidly no motive for visiting tjiis 
 spot V* 
 
.; VAISINOKE. 
 
 « What motive should I have ? I know no one ; and 
 have not exchanged a syllable with one human being." 
 
 Evidently re'lieved by tiiis assurance, he endeavored 
 to divert her attention to anotlier subject, by observing, 
 that the funcnil she had seen was that of the recluse. 
 
 '< How !" cried Cordelia, ♦< of Valsinoi'e ! and have 
 I unconsciously followed him to his grave ?" 
 
 ** And what interest then liave you in his name ?" 
 
 *« Oh, the strongest interest possible ; but it is not my 
 own secret, and I have nu right to divulge that of ano- 
 ther." 
 
 Sir Frederic again eyed her with suspicion, and walk- 
 ed by her side in gloomy silence. AVIien they reached 
 the house, they foujid the Vallaneys, who rallied her on 
 her taste for solitude ; but cordially welcomed back her 
 companion. Scarcely waiting to receive their compli- 
 ments, he hurried out to meet De Lille, with whom he 
 at length returned, with a still more perturbed aspect. 
 After the first salutations, De Lille announced his inten- 
 tion of taking back his daughter to England. Mrs. 
 Valiancy protested it was impossible: but Cordelia in- 
 sisted on obeying her father's summons, 
 
 " It is true,*' said he, " I am come rather abruptly : 
 but I do not despair of restoring her to you a few 
 Aveeks hence. I have at present serious motives for 
 claiming her society." 
 
 Mrs. Valiancy again resisted : but when she heard it 
 was his intention to commence the journey on the mor- 
 row evening, she became almost offended ; since she 
 had formed a party for Innisfallen, and could not sub- 
 mit to Cordelia's absence. De Lille was at length com- 
 pelled to promise that she should partake of the excur- 
 sion, before Adela would be appeased. He then drew 
 his daughter aside, and said *< You see, Cordelia, what 
 1 do to oblige you." 
 
 ** And 1 trust you will not find me ungratefid." 
 
 « But if 1 was destined to fly to another country — if 
 I was forced to go to France instead of England^ would 
 you s- ill accompany me ?" 
 
 ^ Can my father ask that question ?'^ 
 
VALSli* / 
 
 ** You would not then repine at exile ?'* 
 
 « Not with my father." 
 
 « Well, be ready for your departure ; we must com- 
 mence oui" journey to-morrow evening. I have been un- 
 fortunate, but whilst I have such a daughtpr I shall not 
 be unhappy." 
 
 Cordelia, who had expected reproofs and displeasure, 
 was so touched with this unlooked for kituhiess, that she 
 melted into tears. The solitary mourner and the rt^cluso 
 were dismissed from her mind ; even the intim^nco of 
 Altamont yielded for the present to her filial sentiments : 
 and she loujsjed most ardently to discover the cause of 
 her father's uneasiness, and to administer sympathy 
 and consolation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ON his late rejection. Sir Frederic had immediately 
 re])aired to the house at which De Lille was visitina:, to 
 consult with him on the best means of vanquishing his 
 daugliter's inflexibility. The disappointed fatlier, who 
 had just received her application for permission to re- 
 turn with him to England, at first suggested schemes of 
 severity ; but to this Sir Frederic would by no means 
 consent : he insisted that lie should have recourse to ar- 
 tifice and address, and rather operate on her generosity 
 than her timidity. It was then agreed, that he should 
 acquiesce in her present wishes ; but that in taking her 
 to England he shovdd communicate an exaggerated ac- 
 count of his lossi s at play, confcssijig he was under the 
 strongest obligations to Sir Frederic's liberality. 
 
 " And what do you expect from this plan ?" asked 
 De Lille. 
 
 ** Every thing, if you manage wisoly : for t!ie pres- 
 cnt, however, you cannot be too prompt in conveying her 
 from Ireland. 
 
•-7 
 
 VAISINORE. 
 
 De Lille submitted to this advice, and they travelled 
 together towards Grecnhill ; when stopping at Rillaniey 
 t<) give some orders lespecting letters, they saw entering 
 the inn a person in whom they easily recognised Altaniont. 
 
 At this unwelcome apparition iSir Frederic exclidmed, 
 « We arc betrayed ; he has carried on a clandestine 
 correspondence with Cordelia." 
 
 <* In that case,'' said De Lille, « she would not have 
 X^'ished to leave Grecnhill." 
 
 " You are mistaken ; that is merely a feint to amuse 
 you, whilst she cimcerts a plan for the elojienjent." 
 
 " My dear Sir Frederic, this is so extravagant, so 
 totally unsiiited to her character, I will pledge myself 
 his appearance is accidental." 
 
 He then pi'ivately applied to the landlady, from whom 
 he learnt that Altaniont had been for several weeks in tli« 
 habit of frequenting her house, from whence he was ac- 
 customed to make excursions in the mountains of Kerry, 
 Be was just returned from a long pilgrimage to Ivei-agh, 
 and was to sleep at the iim that night, but on the next 
 in(;rni ng to take liis depai'ture to explore the beauties of 
 thelak«s, De Lille insisted on this circumstance asf a 
 proof of his daiightcr's innocence Sir Frederic's suspi- 
 ci. ns were athngth appeased; and as they proceeded 
 to Grrenliiil, it was deti'rmined that no time should be 
 lost in transporting C )rdelia to some spot where she 
 Woi.M be in no danger i>f meeting with Altaniont. 
 
 On their arrival tliey were almost equ.iliy alarmed to 
 find her absent, and l)otb were again leadv to impute to 
 her the most com|!iicated d iplicity. Luckily, a servant, 
 whom she had past in her lonely walk, was enabled to 
 apprize them of her uDvements. and by his direction 
 thi'v traced her to the al»i»e_v, whcie her ina:eniious simpli- 
 city almost dissipated Sir Frederic's former im|)ressio«is» 
 Hecuncurre(!, Iiowever, strongly with De Lille in con- 
 ceiving it Ui cessary to remove her immediately from 
 Greenhill. Tlie latter having lately been engaged as se- 
 cond in an affair of honor, was to allege the necessity of 
 witbdiawing for some time to France. Cordelia was to 
 be tiie companion of his flight : Sir Frederic was to join 
 
VAtSINORE. 239 
 
 them at a convenient season, when either artifice or per- 
 secution was to extort licr consent to tlicir union. Had 
 Dc Lille ti'usted iini)licitly to his (laughter's integrity, he 
 would have revolted from so desperate an expedient ; 
 but, duj)ed by iiis own artilice, he was incai)able of gi ne- 
 rous confidence, and doubted not that Conhlia \\o.ild 
 seize tlie first opportunity to elope with a fjtvoied lover. 
 Sir Frederic, on the other hand, who distri.sted all man- 
 kind, scarcely relied even on l)e Lille*s friendship, and 
 wished to involve him in some labyrinth of iiiiquity> 
 wiiicli should render their interests ijiseparal)le. 
 
 During these macliinatiinis, Altamont, who had seen 
 in the papers an .account of Valiancy's marriage, hut was 
 wholly unsuspicious of liis being in Ireland, left Killar- 
 ney to proceed, according to llaller's directions, to his 
 sequestered retreat. 
 
 Siuce his first arrival in the country he had not seen 
 his venerable friend, wiio had been stationary near the 
 lakes, whilst he himself had visited the seite of his fore- 
 fathei's by Ballyshannon, and penetrated to the remote 
 region of Iveragh. 
 
 He liad taken his departure from Killarncy at an ear- 
 ly hour, and with the assistance of a guide, who had been 
 previously sent to the inn for the occasion, and which 
 was an expirienced dog, had no difficulty in discovering 
 the entrance to tlie cottage, which, though built almost 
 on the water edge, was completely screened from view 
 by a rampart of jjrojecting clifts. His faithful sctti.t, who 
 belonged to the cottage, eager to return home, clamber- 
 ed up the rock, and struck into tlie little shelvini.!; path 
 which led to this retired <lweliing. Hailer a])pt arod 
 resting on a rock before the house ; one hand cressed 
 on ids breast, the other supporting his venerable head. 
 His eyes were fixed on the ground : he raised thcns at Al- 
 tamont's approach : they were glistening with tears. 
 
 " You arc welcome, my yourg friend ; I cannot say, 
 indeed, witlj Joy, for of that sensation I am no longer 
 capable, but with satisfaction and afTection, !"ince onr 
 separation, I have parted from the only being to whose 
 mind I could refer for the register of my own past recol- 
 
'! 
 
 .▼AXSINOBE. 
 
 Wtions : lic was a remnant of myself — my coeval — ^thc 
 suiviver of my youth. These are tiic last drops of na- 
 ture : to-day, I can only think of him ; to-morrow, we 
 wiil talk of other things." He then conducted him to 
 the house, the entrance to which was by a window, reach- 
 ing' fi(>m lop to boUom, widcii in warm weatlier was 
 Jeft open, a lattice being let down, which at once exclu- 
 •ded the rain and auuiiited the air. There were two 
 rooms, one within the other, on the ground floor, and 
 ^s nmny on the floor above* The furniture was ex- 
 tremely plain and simple ; but Altainont was sur])rised 
 to observe a head of Christ, by Guido, placed by one of 
 Kapiiael's Madonas. Haller then put into his hands a 
 letter he had received from Woodville, who from the 
 .deficiency of evidence had been necessarily liberated, 
 and had embarked with his family for Canada, where a 
 email appointment had been procured him by the interest 
 of V allancy. In tiiis affecting letter he took an ever- 
 lasting leave of England, in which he could no longer 
 Lope to enjo)' an unblemished reputation. 
 
 ** He who has been ai-raigncd cannot be cleared with- 
 ■out a public trial, and, till thus absolved of delinquency, 
 has forfeited all pretensions to the confulencc of his coun- 
 trymen. Farewell, then, to my dear native country, of 
 which I am no longer worthy to be called the son, and 
 in which my children must be disgraced by tlie memory 
 of their misguided father! Farewell to you, my gener- 
 'jOUs benefactor, with whom, at a happier season, 1 should 
 have been proud to hold communion, but whom I could 
 not now meet without the anguish of reproach ! Let not 
 Altamont suppose I can ever cease to cherish his re- 
 membrance, though I scarcely regret having been spa- 
 .red that solemn parting which is to prove eternal. Never 
 •iould I have been re-admitted to the privileges of his 
 friendship. A suspected criminal is no associate for 
 upright honorable men ; any coalition with my dishon- 
 ored name would sully l.is unblemished reputation. 1 am 
 a weed which must be rooted from society ; 1 have been 
 a brand plucked from the flames, and am now moulder- 
 ing in silence and oblivion. In my wife and my chil- 
 
 U 
 
VALSINORE, 2it 
 
 dren I still possess objects of tender endearment. May 
 I but live to secure peace to the one, and to lay the 
 fomidation ui respectability for the other! May I but 
 guard them from the errors on which 1 was wrecked ! 
 May I but piT.ser\e them from that too sensible pore ot* 
 feeling, that resll(ss imagination, by which my princi- 
 ples were undermined, my irason perverted, my peace 
 and integrity destroyed, and I shall not have lived in 
 vain ! I shall perhaps die w itb the sweet consolation 
 that my sons are malting a haj)py voyage, though theil* 
 father w as fatally shipwrecked !" 
 
 Altamont was dee})ly affected by the pernsal of this 
 letter; ahd whilst Ualler was engaged iii looking over 
 some papers committed to his care by his late friend^ 
 he left the cottage, and took a ramble, exploring thft 
 beauties of the lake. It will easily be divined to what 
 point his fancy was attracted by this delicious landscape 
 —the thoughts of Cordelia •, no other object was w ant- 
 ing to i-ender this romantic spot a paradise. After hav- 
 ing gazed long on the majestic sweep of mountains^ 
 wliose deepening shadows wei-e reflected on the smooth 
 translucent lake, he was suddenly attracted by a little 
 Hylvan path, closely fenced by the delicate ash and sil- 
 very birch, w hilst the crimson blossoms of the x\rbutus 
 spread luxuriantly along the cliff. He turned into this 
 imibrageous path, and beheld, instead of the capacious 
 lake, a serpentizing stream, a river, or rather a rivu- 
 let, flowing under the base of the towering cliflT, and 
 forming between its wooded banks a little sheltered bay, 
 Altamont paused with delight on this scene of seclusion, 
 when suddenly he heard a strain of music, which should 
 seem to have been wafted thither by erichantment. Ho 
 listened in delicious amazement, when suddenly the 
 sweeps of the measured oar fell on his ear, and he per- 
 ceived, as shooting from the woods, an elegant barge, 
 with its gaudy pennon and sprightly company, followed 
 by a smaller boat, from whence issued sounds of delight- 
 ful music. Altanmnt, though himsell' concealed, had a 
 distinct view of the party ; but what was his emotion 
 when he beheld first his friend Valiancy, and then; aeat- 
 
 V 
 
// VAXSIXORE. 
 
 A between De Lille and Sir Fi'ederic Mowbray, his 
 Cordelia ! He scarcely breatlied or moved for astonish- 
 ment, and anxiously strained his sight to take another 
 and another glance. But the first moment of joy was 
 cruelly alloyed by jealousy ; and rushing from the spot^ 
 he hastened back to the cottage to impart his discovery 
 to Hallcr, who gravely answered, «♦ It is true ; 1 find 
 they have been some days in the ncighborliood ?" 
 
 « And is she married, or engaged ?" cried Altamont. 
 « Not married, surely ?'* 
 
 " [ know no more at present, but shall hope to see 
 her to-morrow." 
 
 « To-morrow !" echoed Altamont, whose eyes seem- 
 ed to add, " and why not to-day ?" Haller noticed not 
 his emotion ; he was writing something by which he 
 seemed deeply affected. Altamont turning away, inter- 
 nally exclaimed, <♦ He was right when he said there 
 could he no friendship between youth and age, for there 
 is no sympathy." 
 
 Though no longer capable of relishing the beauties of 
 nature, he continued to wander on the margin of the 
 lake. A variety of vessels was exhibited on the water ; 
 many of them were destined for Innisfallen, which is 
 the fairy region of love and pleasure. The Vallancys 
 were to dine in the grove of ash trees which sliade the 
 ruins of the abbey ; from thence, till the evening, they 
 'were to wander in little social groups, witli a promise of 
 Te-assembliug for the dance in the ivy -covered oratory 
 that overtops the cliff. Ignorant of this arrangement, 
 Altamont repeatedly climbed the highest bank of the 
 peninsula, poring through his pocket telcsco])e, with the 
 hope of descrying the barge on its return. After repeat- 
 ed disap{)ointments, he began to relinquish expectation, 
 but he still mechanically hovered near the spot from 
 "whence he had snatched that momentary glimpse of 
 Cordelia. 
 
 It was now late in the afternoon, and dark volumi- 
 nous shadows were falling from the mountains, when 
 suddenly a white cloud appearing in the horizon, their 
 lofty summits were wrapt in a mist of darkness j a tre- 
 
VALSINORE. 2*3 
 
 mendous clap of thunder reverberated from the hollow 
 cliff's, the watx'rs of the lake were a.fijitatcd : the white 
 spray mountinj;^ over the flood, which presented the 
 mimic \vaves and billows of the ocean. Altamont, who 
 had so hnisj wished fur the appearance of the barj^e, now 
 rejoiced in its absence ; still lie looked with a sort of un- 
 easy solicitude towards the lake, and was struck with 
 the perilous position of a little skift', which contained 
 but three persons : a gentleman, a lady, and tiie row- 
 er, who had imprudently diminished the labors of the 
 oar, by extending his flimsy sail. Though tossed on 
 the flood, the boat seemed still capable of preserving its 
 balance, till it came near the one-arched bridge on 
 which he stood; here the current becoming stnniger, 
 the gentleman tore down the sail, and by that move- 
 ment overset the boat. Altamont, wlio had anticipa- 
 ted its fate, and confided in his skill in swimming, pre- 
 cipitated himself from the parapet, grasped the lady's 
 robe, and continued to draw her towards the shore. He 
 at length bore her to a little cove into which a fisherman 
 had just pushed his skilf for shelter ; he desired the man 
 to row to the assistance of the other sufferers, whilst he 
 supported his senseless charge towards the cottage. 
 
 Hitherto he had only ftdlowed the dictates of lunnani- 
 ty. The lady's long dishevelled tresses Avere spread 
 over her face, and completely disguised her features ; 
 but in removing this matted veil, he discovered, almost 
 incredulously, the countenance of Cordelia. His agita- 
 tion, on this discovery, almost deprived him of the pow- 
 er to make any efibrts for her assistance ; happily, how- 
 ever, he met with the male domestic of the cottage, with 
 whose assistance she was soon sheltered under its quiet 
 roof; where the old housekeejier, under Haller's direc- 
 tions, pursued the proper means for hei" recovery. 
 
 She had been thrown into this perilous state by the 
 imprudence of De Lille, who had persuadecriier to steal 
 with him from the paity at Innisfallen, un<ler the })re- 
 tcxt of proceeding imnjediately on their intend<'d journc}'. 
 He Uim\ laid s-ich stress on this point, that she became 
 anxious to fulfil his wishes ; and, not doubting that the 
 
 V2 
 
/ 
 
 VAXSINORE. 
 
 icys would easily for«j:ive this clandestine move- 
 _. oj when they know by what motive it was dictated, 
 she eagerly assented to his proposal of enga(2;ing a little 
 boat, which had been plying round the island, to trans- 
 port t)»em to the opposite side of the lake. 
 
 The execution of the plan was facilitated by the party 
 having dispersed in various groups through tlie island ; 
 and De Lille and his daughter Iiad been long absent be- 
 fore they were missed by any of the company except Sir 
 Frederic Mowbray, whose duplicity was sufficiently pu- 
 nished, during the storm, by the tortures of suspense. 
 Unable to suffer in silence, he imparted his suspicions of 
 Dc Lille's elopement ; and as soon as the elements were 
 cleared, embarked in the smaller vessel, in pursuit of 
 the deserters. 
 
 On arriving at Mucruss, he found De Lille, who, by 
 clinging to the keel of the boat, had floated towards the 
 narrow channel communicating with the inner lake, 
 where, by grasping some branches of birch and ash, he 
 kad gained the shore in safety. 
 
 The boatman, whose senses had been previously dull- 
 ed by libations of whiskey, had swam across tlie lake ; 
 but no traces were discovered of Cordelia. De Lille 
 fancied he had seen a person leap from tlie bridge to her 
 assistance j but the impression was vague and unsatis- 
 factory, and he fully participated with his coadjutor in 
 the torments of shame and suspense, of terror and re- 
 morse. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 IT was long before Cordelia gave any signs of re- 
 turning animation ; by degrees she began to have a most 
 painful consciousnCvSg of existence : every object swam 
 before her ; she fj'.neied slie was in a cabin, and open- 
 ing her eyes, looked around for imaginary \vav( s. A 
 cup was presented to her lips, of which she tasted, and 
 
VAtSlNORE. 245 
 
 then sunk into a heavj- slumber. On awakin.a;, she ob- 
 served a venerable form, familiar to her eyes, though 
 the name liad escaped her remembrance ; she was again 
 lulled asleep, and awoke nonioretill the morning, when 
 she was so perfectly recovered as to have a distinct re- 
 collection of what had befallen her ; and observing an 
 old woman sitting on a cliair by her bed-side, slie asked 
 for her clothes, and became extremely importunate to 
 leave her apartment. The housekeeper, wlx) being Flem- 
 ish, was by no means familiar with the English lan- 
 guage, instantly called in llallcr, who, having quieted 
 her apprehensions for her father's safety, promised to 
 gratify her curiosity, when she should join him at break- 
 fast. Her drenched garments had been dried by the 
 housekeeper's care, and she soon descended to the par- 
 lor, where she found only Ilaller, who thus addressed 
 her : " From your astonishment on meeting me, I should 
 almost conclude you were ignorant of my having been in 
 this country, yet your father met me the other evening in 
 Mucruss Abbey." 
 
 « Good heavens ! were you, then, the solitary mourn- 
 er ? did you follow the recluse to the grave x" 
 
 " 1 did, Cordelia. In returning to tlie church-yard 
 I met your father, and announced my intention of see- 
 ing yon in a few d.ays. In reply he gave me an inform- 
 ation, at which I was somewhat surprised, that you 
 wei*e on the eve of marriage j I presume, with Sir Fred- 
 eric Mowbiay." 
 
 *^ Impossible ! could my father say so ? impossible ! 
 Ilis news, then, was premature ; lie deceived you. Sir." 
 
 *' You, perhaps, deceived yourself; you may not 
 know how much your affections are engaged." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, I feel 1 shall never be the wife of 
 Sir Frederic Mowbray." 
 
 <• Well, well, let us drop the subject. When did you 
 see Altamont ?" 
 
 « It is long, indeed." 
 
 ** Wlicu did you hear of him." 
 V3 
 
VALSINOUE, 
 
 J 
 
 « Tliat too is loiij;. lie is dead to us all j he has re* 
 nounceil our fi'londsiiip." 
 
 •' Have you then lioard nolhini^ of him ?" 
 
 " Nothing, hilt that ho eorrcsimndod with one Mrs. 
 "Woodville. 1 know not who she is." 
 
 « 1 do ; that coirespondenee does him honor/' 
 
 <* 'Tv\ as all calumny, then," exclaimed she, half rising 
 from her seat ; " my heart told me he was incapaUe of 
 baseness." 
 
 " I will confide to you one secret respecting him, 
 Cordelia. He has just won my eternal gratitude, hy 
 preserving your life." 
 
 «' Was it he ? Then my life shall ever be precious for 
 his sake." 
 
 Here Altamont, who had been purposely placed with- 
 in the inner room, rusliing from concealment, threw 
 himself before Cordelia, who shrieked witli surprise ; 
 and leaning back on Haller, concealed, under the air of 
 terror, her excess of joy and tenderness. " Compose 
 yourself, my child," cried Haller, " and I will soon re- 
 jnove your perplexity." 
 
 After some time passed in mutual expressions of de- 
 light, from the pleasuse of an intercourse so painfully 
 regretted, and so unexpectedly renewed, Cordelia called 
 «pon Haller for the promised explanation. 
 
 'f You remember," said the venerable sage ; <* I left 
 in your hands the manuscript of Cornelius ; and I doubt 
 not you have both grieved for his many sorrows. The 
 manuscript put into my hands by Altamont, was mere- 
 ly a manuel of monastic devotion ; that which I left with 
 you, as its substitute, contained my own history. I 
 was once that Cornelius. Your father, Altamont, was- 
 my kinsman. I, too, was that Valsinore, who endeav- 
 ored to I'epair, by present kindness, former injustice." 
 
 Exclamations of wonder burst from his auditors; 
 «nd both enquired, at the same moment, who then was' 
 the Valsinore who lived here so lately. 
 
 « That you shall soon hear. The name of Valsinore^ 
 3iad often been assumed by my friend Albert in his youth , 
 W^it wftS; {>erh^pB; front some associatioja with 
 
VAXSINORK. 247 
 
 memory, that I was induced to annex that sip,nattire to 
 the letter I left with your widowed mother. 1 had previ- 
 ously borne a Frcneh name ; on my return to Germany 
 I exchan,a;ed it for Uallcr, hy which 1 have ever since 
 heen known. On my first ai rival in Europe 1 liad re- 
 solved not to make any enquiries respectint? n)y own or 
 Susanna's family, lest I should relapse into that dr< a'iful 
 state from which 1 iiad been so lately restoroci. Many 
 years had elapsed i and I was, in many respeets, become 
 a new bein£?, when I accidentally heard of Albert's do- 
 mestic misfortunes : his wife had proved unfaithful ; his 
 daughter had eloped with an adventurer; he had re- 
 nounced his country, and, haviiii? lodged his property in 
 the Hamburgh bank, lived in total seclusion from ti»e 
 world. By his annual demands on this bank 1 ascer- 
 tained his existence, without being able to discover his 
 retreat. It was from Baron Rouvigny 1 first learnt that 
 lie had a grand-daughter not unwortliy to claim ailinity 
 with my Susanna. To see you, therefore, Cordelia, was 
 one of my motives for visiting England ; and my s«de 
 inducement for cultivating your father's acquaintance. 
 From your account of the monkish manusci-ipt, 1 con- 
 jectured that Albert might have been the person who 
 had assumed the name of Valsinore ; and that, instead 
 of having perished in the Avalanche, he had selected 
 some other place of retirement. 
 
 *< Pursuing this hint on my return to Germany, I 
 learnt, from my banker, that Sir John Mordaunt was 
 certainly living in Ireland, but by what name was un* 
 known. I soon after learnt of a recluse near Killarney^ 
 whose unsocial habits corresponded with the account I 
 had received of Albert. It was to pursue this hint that 
 I arrived in this romantic country. 1 had in my possess- 
 ion a short-hand copy of the history I had left at Beach- 
 dale, written in the character I had been accustomed 
 to employ with Albert in my youth. I connected it with 
 the monkish manuscript I had received from Altamont, 
 and prepared to explore his lonely dwelling. Happily, 
 however, on the same day 1 went to the church at Mu- 
 Gruss; where it was whispered tliat the strange man w^ 
 
Y 
 
 YALSIKORE. 
 
 i 
 
 * perform liis devotions. I kept my eyes fixed 
 jvi this object ; but though I htid before tried to imagine 
 all the alterations which time might have produced, 1 was 
 shocked to find myself unable to discern one vestige of 
 Albert's countenance. After the service 1 followed his 
 steps, and took the opportunity, whilst he was distribu- 
 ting alms to some poor children, to ask if he could direct 
 me where to find a pei'son of the name of Valsinore. Ho 
 hesitated at the question, but at length asked my busi- 
 ness : I stated, that I had certain papers to surrender 
 to his possession. He looked perplexed, and yet invited 
 nie to attend him home. 
 
 " In the way we conversed on various subjects, but his 
 observations were always tinged with misanthropy. 
 When he heard that I was a solitary, unconnected stran- 
 ger, be regarded me with more complacency. When I 
 accidentally mentioned my hirth-day, w hich was within 
 three days of his ow n, he exclaimed, < Then we came 
 into the world nearly at the same moment.' Observing 
 the satisfaction he derived from this passive sympathy, 
 I intimated that I had known many heavy calamities, but 
 was restored to tranquillity ; he shook his head, and 
 coldly answered, there were some wounds never to be 
 healed. When we reached his cottage, he invited me in 
 liomely language to take refreshments. I was again 
 alarmed by the idea that it could not be Albert, who liad 
 heen always remarkable for elegance and courtesy. Not 
 to offend, however, I accepted his offer ; and, at parting, 
 had an invitation to repeat my visit. I returned on the 
 next day, and for many succeeding ones, and thus made 
 with him, by degress, a new acquaintance : at length 
 speaking of Switzerland, I mentioned the manuscript 
 in my possession, as belonging to a person of his name, 
 and put into his hands, with the monkish manuel, the 
 history of my own adventures. He fixed his eyes on 
 the latter, exclaiming, * I should know this character, I 
 have still the key.' He unlocked a cabinet, from which 
 he drew out a folio, with the help of which he began read- 
 ing my manuscript. I stole out of the room unperceived, 
 «ttrprised at my own strong emotions : it seemed al^^ ' 
 
 ..^ 
 
VALSINOR-B 249 
 
 mostbcyojid my faith to conceive the possibility of har- 
 iiii^ met with one so n^^arly i-elated to Susanna. At loni^h 
 I arose, and rcturninja; to the room, behchi him, with his 
 eyes full of tears, alternately looking at the manuscript 
 and a ininiatare he held in his liand. On secin.a: me he 
 started, and, in a tone of disjjlcasure, said, * And pray. 
 Sir. who are you ?* At tiiat moment he had dropt the 
 miniature, which I hastily picked up, and beheld a pic- 
 tui'c of my wife, taken in early life. I ould not now 
 answer his question, 1 could only articulate Susanna ; 
 by that name was our negociation made ; and we sccm- 
 •d mutually restored to tlie affections of our youth.** 
 
 Here Haller paused, but checking his emotion, pro^ 
 ceeded ; " To be brief, I discovered that he had wished 
 for this meeting ; we determined not to separate ; we 
 even ventured to form a plan for futurity ; you know 
 how suddenly this has been reversed. Previous to his 
 death, he had made a new will. 
 
 « But here, Cordelia, 1 must frankly confess, that I 
 have failed to obviate his scruples respecting his vow : 
 he has left his whole property to another ; on one con- 
 dition, however, that you should marry his heir.*' Cor- 
 delia started. Altamont threw an anxious glance on 
 Haller, who contin ;ed ; '* And I confess, 1 trust you 
 will not refuse to ratify this compact." 
 
 Cor(h'lia had raised her eyes in wonder : but they 
 were cast down in tender conTision. When he added, 
 " For your love is' due to him, who has preserved your 
 life.'* 
 
 Here Altamont protested he would not nsurp Corde- 
 lia's rights. But she recovering from her first amaze- 
 ment, declared, it was an act of Justice. Haller, delight- 
 ed with tlieir contest, Joining their hands, exclaimed, 
 ** My children, your hearts have latificd tlie compact 5 
 and let the last wishes of I he dead be sacred." 
 
 Cordelia made a gentle effort to witlniiaw her hand : 
 but it was ohslinately resisted ; and she tacitly acqui- 
 esced in the sentence. But when Haller was leaving the 
 room, uu longer al)le to restrain tl;e feelings recalled by 
 memory, she cast nn him a wistful glance, as if she would 
 
VALSIXOnE. 
 
 ^'e deprecated his desertion. At that moment tiio 
 latticed door was pushed open, and Sir Frederic Mow- 
 bray rushed into the room exclaiming, *♦ You shall kill 
 me first." Terrified for Altamont, she tlirew herself 
 before l>im, as if to implore the Baronet to withdraw. 
 "When frantic with rage, he discharged his pistol, and 
 she fell back senseles on the couch, supported by Alta- 
 mont. " What have I done !" cried Sir Frederic, " take 
 my life ! I am a villain !" At that moment the venera- 
 ble Haller, issuing from the other apartment, arrested 
 his hand, which was now raised against liis own exist-: 
 encc — ♦' Unhappy man, what pbrenzy is this ?" Luck- 
 ily De Lille and Valiancy, wl»o had both watched his 
 steps, now entered the apartment, and forced him from 
 the scene, on which he had committed such atrocious 
 violence. He had been prompted to this desperation, by 
 hearing from the fishermen, who had assisted Altamont 
 in carrying Cordelia to the cottage, tliat she had been 
 preserved by a young man, whom he instantly divined 
 to be his rival. At this news he snatched up his pistols 
 — was rowed across — clambered up the bank, and stole 
 to the latticed door, where he heard enough of Haller's 
 relation to be satisfied that he had nothing to hope for. 
 Possessed with fury, aTid resolving that Altamont should 
 fight for her, he ruslied into the apartment. The sud- 
 den impulse of tenderness betrayed by Cordelia, inflan»ed 
 his rage ; he was no longer a rational being ; and till he 
 saw her fall, apparently deprived of life, was only sensi- 
 ble to the suggestions of passion. He was at length con- 
 veyed from the house, whilst De Lille, amost equally dis- 
 tressed, eagerly dispatched half a dozen messengers for 
 medical assistance. Cordelia, still senschss, lay, with 
 her head reclined on Altamont's bosom, till Haller ta- 
 king her hand, exclaimed — '• Yet the pulse beats, and 
 no hlood flows! where is the wound? At this moment 
 she opened her languid eyes ; and he discovered that it 
 was indeed but an ideal wound ; Uie ball having just 
 misso'i her head, passed under tlie couch, and wiiS at 
 lerg li obsei'ved on the floor. The surprise and terror 
 occasioned by Sii' Frederic's sudden appeai'ance, had 
 
YALSmOBE. 251 
 
 oau«(ed her being seized with that fainttiess whicli pro- 
 dtiCrts the very image of death. Altamont, long incred- 
 ulous, again and again extorted the ass'trance that she 
 was not hurt. Cordelia, at length extending her hand, 
 softly sai(' — " Ti'ust me at least for the sake of our com- 
 pact, and do not let that unhappy man iniinagine he has 
 committed murder." In a short time, however, it ap- 
 peare<l, that the medical assistance procured by De liillo 
 was ni>t unnecessary. The agitatioji of her spirits liad 
 completely disordered her ft ame ; and in a few iioiirs, 
 she was in a high fever, wliidi for some da>s m< tiaced 
 her exist: nee. Dtii ing this anxious iu(< rval. Oe Lillo 
 and Valiancy pjvvaihfl on !Sir F'rederic to witiid* aw to 
 Franc<' ; an.! in his co >U'r moments, ho was not equally 
 eager t<« jart fi'»m existence. lie cons- ntid to travel, 
 and thus .seaiHM! the pdin ;)f hearing of Cordelia's union 
 witli anotljer. Cor«h>lia was reniovt'd as soon as possi- 
 ble to Gn cnliill, where Mrs. Valiancy, prrfrctly ap- 
 prized of the obliquity of Sir Frederic's conduct, 
 heartily felicitattd her friend on her firmness, and 
 gave a most fricndl\ reception to Altamont ; who 
 was cordi iMy reconciled to her husband. De Lille, 
 ashamed of his late an ifice, n.) sooner saw his daughter 
 restored to hea!*h,than he quitted Ireland, went abroad, 
 visitfd Germany, and having at length obtained the title 
 of Baroti from the Emperor, finally settled in thatcountry. 
 Altamont, at the suggestion of Haller, purchased the 
 ftimily-estates, and the seat of his father on the banks 
 of the Shannon. Haller himself consented to occupy an 
 apartment in Ibis mansion. On the day that Cordelia 
 became his mistress, her venerable uncle said to Alta- 
 mont, " I trust you will prove yourself worthy of your 
 happiness. You once wished yourself a Roman : believe 
 me the Briton possesses a much nobler name. You 
 once repined at finding so little scope for enthusiasm ; 
 be assured t!ie age you live in, will command the reve- 
 rence of posterity. I have lived long enough to measure 
 the progress of improvement. Had the same liberal 
 spirit prevailed in my youth, I had never been an alien 
 from my native country i bad the same establishment 
 
/. 
 
 / VALSINORE. 
 
 /ibr education then existed, I had never imbibed the pre- 
 judict'S wiiic/i proved so fatal to my tranquillity, if you 
 would be a true patii)t, you must be a philanthropist., 
 In diffusinii; knowledge and benevoKnee ; in promoting 
 habits of activity and virtue; in giving lessons of mo- 
 rality, and examples of liappiness, you will at once ex- 
 alt tlie honor of your own country, and the dignity of 
 the human race. You will equally establish your claims 
 to the character if a Briton, and a friend to the best 
 interests of mankind. 
 
 ^ From tlie period of his marriage, Altamont, dismiss*, 
 ii^ those reveries of fancy, in which he had wasted so. 
 many precious years of youth, became a zealous advo- 
 cate for useful pursuits, and both in public and private 
 life, discharged his duties to the community. His resi-"* 
 dence was fixed in Ireland ; for in reclaiming the honors 
 of his house, he did not desert the father-land to which 
 he owed them. His winters were spent in Dublin, but, 
 in the summer, his house was the seat of hospitality. 
 Neither his mother nor Mr. Bruce could be pei'suaded 
 to leave Switzerland ; but Mrs. Winifred, with her 
 favorite Aleck, found a happy asylum near the grateful 
 Altamont; Celiu Gladwin became his constant guest, 
 and, in the contemplation of real happiness, almost for- 
 got ^the dreams of fancy. 
 
 Haller transferred his fund of charity to his native 
 country, establishing schools, i-nproving agriculture, 
 proui jting the best interests of the community. He lived 
 to Witness tlie assembling of two families, in the children 
 of Valiancy and Altamtmtj and to welcome Woodville's 
 sons, wiio, at his suggestion, were sent to Europe for 
 education. On such occasions, Halh'r was restored to 
 th sensibilities of youth ; he examined the countenan- 
 ces of the children, and gave to each a paternal benedic- 
 tion — « Oh ! ha3)py beings," cried he, " to have been 
 bom in an age like tins ; your minds will never imbibe 
 the ewois wliich embittered my life. May they dis- 
 
VitSlNORE. ^ l5& 
 
 X 
 
 charge their debt of patriotism ami humamty ! As long 
 as there shall exist one prejiuliec founded on selfish 
 feclin.e;s, to narrow tlic sphere of usefulness and felicity, 
 to check the course of piety and benevolence, mankind 
 are not truly civilized, and the christian is disappointed, 
 ^vhilst the philosopher is unsatisfied." 
 
 Ix the beloved land of his fatliers, cnfihrined in the 
 hearts of all who had known, or who have heard of the 
 excellence of this discijde of virtue and philantropy, the 
 mortal remains of the venerable Haller now peaceful- 
 ly rest. A simple stone, with the following inscription^ 
 alone attests the place : 
 
 Blest be this spot where Hallkr lies ; 
 
 No cloister'd walls to guard his tomb ; 
 'Tis open to tl>e changeful skies, 
 
 And deck'd with Natui-c's gayest bloom. 
 On this dear shrine no tapers burn. 
 
 But sun and stare their radiance shed; 
 And, sweeter than the incensM urn, 
 
 A snow-white shroud the lilies spread : 
 The lark, too innocent to mourn, 
 
 Chaunts his blithe matin to the dead. 
 
 Blest be this spot — 'twas here, that last 
 
 He watch'd the slow departing sun ; 
 A tender wistful glance he cast, 
 
 As thougli lie deem'd his race was run. 
 That eve, as i»i the social hall 
 
 He took, *mid friends, his *custom'd place, 
 His soul to eacb o*erflow'd — on all 
 
 He smil'd with venerable grace : 
 He seem'd to feel the whisper'd call, 
 
 And Hope shone radiant on his face. 
 
 That night, when all unheard, unseen, 
 His filial prayer to Heaven had sped, 
 
 (ClaspM were his hands, devout his mien) 
 'Twas then the immortal spiiit lied. 
 W 
 
\ 'I 
 
 I / 
 
 Konc heard his last, his niurmur'd sighs. 
 If such his partina: spirit brf^ath'd. 
 
 The joy of lieav'n was in th'^S" eyes, 
 
 That peace and h)ve to earth bequeathed. 
 
 So sweetly was UJ» 's farewell made^ 
 
 His debt to man and natiu'e paid. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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