Mr Montague introduced me to this lady in the most flattering terms, shereceived me with civility, but, I fancied, not without a slight mixtureof distrust. I agreed with her for a neat chamber, with a sitting roomadjoining, on the second floor, and settled for the terms of my board,more than the whole amount of the interest of my little fortune.
CHAPTER XVII
I took an early opportunity of addressing a few lines to Mr Francis,informing him of my situation, and entreating his counsel. I waited aweek, impatiently, for his reply, but in vain: well acquainted with hispunctuality, and alarmed by this silence, I mentioned the step I hadtaken, and my apprehensions, to Montague, who immediately repaired,himself, to the house of Mr Francis; and, finding it shut up, wasinformed by the neighbours, that Mr Francis had quitted England, ashort time before, in company with a friend, intending to make acontinental tour.
This intelligence was a new shock to me. I called on some of my formeracquaintance, mentioning to them my wish of procuring pupils, or ofengaging in any other occupation fitted to my talents. I was received bysome with civility, by others with coldness, but every one appeared toomuch engrossed by his own affairs to give himself the trouble of makingany great exertion for others.
I returned dispirited--I walked through the crowded city, and observedthe anxious and busy faces of all around me. In the midst of my fellowbeings, occupied in various pursuits, I seemed, as if in an immensedesart, a solitary outcast from society. Active, industrious, willingto employ my faculties in any way, by which I might procure an honestindependence, I beheld no path open to me, but that to which my spiritcould not submit--the degradation of servitude. Hapless woman!--crushedby the iron hand of barbarous despotism, pampered into weakness, andtrained the slave of meretricious folly!--what wonder, that, shrinkingfrom the chill blasts of penury (which the pernicious habits of thyeducation have little fitted thy tender frame to encounter) thoulistenest to the honied accents of the spoiler; and, to escape thegalling chain of servile dependence, rushest into the career of infamy,from whence the false and cruel morality of the world forbids thyreturn, and perpetuates thy disgrace and misery! When will mankindbe aware of the uniformity, of the importance, of truth? When willthey cease to confound, by sexual, by political, by theological,distinctions, those immutable principles, which form the true basis ofvirtue and happiness? The paltry expedients of combating error witherror, and prejudice with prejudice, in one invariable and melancholycircle, have already been sufficiently tried, have already beendemonstrated futile:--they have armed man against man, and filled theworld with crimes, and with blood.--How has the benign and gentle natureof Reform been mistated! 'One false idea,' justly says an acute andphilosophic writer,[20] 'united with others, produces such as arenecessarily false; which, combining again with all those the memoryretains, give to all a tinge of falsehood. One error, alone, issufficient to infect the whole mass of the mind, and produce an infinityof capricious, monstrous, notions.--Every vice is the error of theunderstanding; crimes and prejudices are brothers; truth and virtuesisters. These things, known to the wise, are hid from fools!'
[Footnote 20: Helvetius.]
Without a sufficiently interesting pursuit, a fatal torpor stole over myspirits--my blood circulated languidly through my veins. Montague, inthe intervals from business and amusement, continued to visit me. Hebrought me books, read to me, chatted with me, pressed me to accompanyhim to places of public entertainment, which (determined to incur nopecuniary obligation) I invariably refused.
I received his civilities with the less scruple, from the informationI had received of his engagement with Miss Morton; which, with hisknowledge of my unhappy attachment, I thought, precluded every ideaof a renewal of those sentiments he had formerly professed for me.
In return for his friendship, I tried to smile, and exerted my spirits,to prove my grateful sensibility of his kindness: but, while he appearedto take a lively interest in my sorrows, he carefully avoided arepetition of the language in which he had once addressed me; yet, attimes, his tender concern seemed sliding into a sentiment still softer,which obliged me to practise more reserve: he was not insensible ofthis, and was frequently betrayed into transient bursts of passion andresentment, which, on my repelling with firmness, he would struggle torepress, and afterwards absent himself for a time.
Unable to devise any method of increasing my income, and experiencingthe pressure of some daily wants and inconveniencies, I determined, atlength, on selling the sum invested, in my name, in the funds, andpurchasing a life annuity.
Recollecting the name of a banker, with whom my uncle, the friend of myinfancy, had formerly kept cash, I learned his residence, and, waitingupon him, made myself known as the niece of an old and worthy friend;at the same time acquainting him with my intentions.--He offered totransact the affair for me immediately, the funds being, then, in avery favourable position; and to preserve the money in his hands tillan opportunity should offer of laying it out to advantage. I gave himproper credentials for the accomplishing of this business, and returnedto my apartment with a heart somewhat lightened. This scheme hadnever before occurred to me. The banker, who was a man of commercialreputation, had assured me, that my fortune might now be sold out withlittle loss; and that, by purchasing an annuity, on proper security, atseven or eight per cent, I might, with oeconomy, be enabled to supportmyself decently, with comfort and independence.
CHAPTER XVIII
Some weeks elapsed, and I heard no more from my banker. A slightindisposition confined me to the house. One evening, Mr Montague, comingto my apartment to enquire after my health, brought with him a newspaper(as was his frequent custom), and, finding me unwell, and dispirited,began to read some parts from it aloud, in the hope of amusing me. Amongthe articles of home intelligence, a paragraph stated--'The failure ofa considerable mercantile house, which had created an alarm upon theExchange, as, it was apprehended, some important consequences wouldfollow in the commercial world. A great banking-house, it was hinted,not many miles from ----, was likely to be affected, by some rumours, inconnection with this business, which had occasioned a considerable runupon it for the last two or three days.'
My attention was roused--I eagerly held out my hand for the paper, andperused this alarming paragraph again and again, without observing thesurprize expressed in the countenance of Montague, who was at a loss toconceive why this intelligence should be affecting to me.--I sat, for someminutes, involved in thought, till a question from my companion, severaltimes repeated, occasioned me to start. I immediately recollected myself,and tried to reason away my fears, as vague and groundless. I was aboutto explain the nature of them to my friend--secretly accusing myself fornot having done so sooner, and availed myself of his advice, when aservant, entering, put a letter into his hand.
Looking upon the seal and superscription, he changed colour, and openedit hastily. Strong emotion was painted in his features while he perusedit. I regarded him with anxiety. He rose from his seat, walked up anddown the room with a disordered pace--opened the door, as if with anintention of going out--shut it--returned back again--threw himselfinto a chair--covered his face with his handkerchief--appeared in greatagitation--and burst into tears. I arose, went to him, and took hishand--'_My friend!_' said I--I would have added something more--but,unable to proceed, I sunk into a seat beside him, and wept in sympathy.He pressed my hand to his lips--folded me wildly in his arms, andattempted to speak--but his voice was lost in convulsive sobs. I gentlywithdrew myself, and waited, in silence, till the violence of hisemotions should subside. He held out to me the letter he had received. Iperused it. It contained an account of the sudden death of his father,and a summons for his immediate return to the country, to settle theaffairs, and to take upon him his father's professional employment.
'You leave me, then!' said I--'I lose my only remaining friend!'
'_Never!_'--he replied, emphatically.
I blushed for having uttered so improper, so selfish, a remark;and endeavoured to
atone for it by forgetting the perils of my ownsituation, in attention to that of this ardent, but affectionate, youngman.--His sufferings were acute and violent for some days, during whichhe quitted me only at the hours of repose--I devoted myself to sooth andconsole him. I felt, that I had been greatly indebted to his friendshipand kindness, and I endeavoured to repay the obligation. He appearedfully sensible of my cares, and, mingled with his acknowledgmentsexpressions of a tenderness, so lively, and unequivocal, as obliged me,once more, to be more guarded in my behaviour.
In consideration for the situation of Mr Montague--I had forgottenthe paragraph in the paper, till an accidental intelligence of thebankruptcy of the house, in which my little fortune was entrusted,confirmed to me the certainty of this terrible blow. Montague wassitting with me when I received the unwelcome news.
'Gracious God!' I exclaimed, clasping my hands, and raising my eyes toheaven--'What is to become of me now?--The measure of my sorrows isfilled up!'
It was some time before I had power to explain the circumstances to mycompanion.
'Do not distress yourself, my lovely Emma,' said he; 'I will be yourfriend--your guardian--' (and he added, in a low, yet fervent, accent)--'_your husband_!'
'No--no--no!' answered I, shaking my head, 'that must not, cannot, be!I would perish, rather than take advantage of a generosity like yours. Iwill go to service--I will work for my bread--and, if I cannot procurea wretched sustenance--_I can but die_! Life, to me, has long beenworthless!'
My countenance, my voice, my manner, but too forcibly expressed thekeen anguish of my soul. I seemed to be marked out for the victim of amerciless destiny--_for the child of sorrow_! The susceptible temper ofMontague, softened by his own affliction, was moved by my distress. Herepeated, and enforced, his proposal, with all the ardour of a youthful,a warm, an uncorrupted, mind.
'You add to my distress,' replied I. 'I have not a heart to bestow--Ilavished mine upon one, who scorned and contemned it. Its sensibility isnow exhausted. Shall I reward a faithful and generous tenderness, likeyours, with a cold, a worthless, an alienated, mind? No, no!--Seek anobject more worthy of you, and leave me to my fate.'
At that moment, I had forgotten the report of his engagement withMiss Morton; but, on his persisting, vehemently, to urge his suit, Irecollected, and immediately mentioned, it, to him. He confessed--
'That, stung by my rejection, and preference of Mr Harley, he had, atone period, entertained a thought of that nature; but that he had fallenout with the family, in adjusting the settlements. Mrs Morton hadpersuaded her husband to make, what he conceived to be, ungenerousrequisitions. Miss Morton had discovered much artifice, but littlesensibility, on the occasion. Disgusted with the apathy of the father,the insolence of the mother and the low cunning of the daughter, he hadabruptly quitted them, and broken off all intercourse with the family.'
It is not necessary to enlarge on this part of my narrative. Suffice itto say, that, after a long contest, my desolate situation, added to thepersevering affection of this enthusiastic young man, prevailed over myobjections. His happiness, he told me, entirely depended on my decision.I would not deceive him:--I related to him, with simplicity and truth,all the circumstances of my past conduct towards Mr Harley. He listenedto me with evident emotion--interrupted me, at times, with execrations;and, once or twice, vowing vengeance on Augustus, appeared on the vergeof outrage. But I at length reasoned him into greater moderation, andobliged him to do justice to the merit and honour of Mr Harley. Heacquiesced reluctantly, and with an ill grace, yet, with a lover-likepartiality, attributed his conduct to causes, of which I had discernedno traces. He assured himself that the affections of a heart, tender asmine, would be secured by kindness and assiduity--and I at last yieldedto his importunity. We were united in a short time, and I accompanied myhusband to the town of ----, in the county of ----, the residence of hislate father.
CHAPTER XIX
Mr Montague presented me to his relations and friends, by whom I wasreceived with a flattering distinction. My wearied spirits began nowto find repose. My husband was much occupied in the duties of hisprofession. We had a respectable circle of acquaintance: In theintervals of social engagement, and domestic employment, ever thirstingafter knowledge, I occasionally applied myself to the study of physic,anatomy, and surgery, with the various branches of science connectedwith them; by which means I frequently rendered myself essentiallyserviceable to my friend; and, by exercising my understanding andhumanity, strengthened my mind, and stilled the importunate suggestionsof a heart too exquisitely sensible.
The manners of Mr Montague were kind and affectionate, though subject,at times, to inequalities and starts of passion; he confided in me,as his best and truest friend--and I deserved his confidence:--yet, Ifrequently observed the restlessness and impetuosity of his dispositionwith apprehension.
I felt for my husband a rational esteem, and a grateful affection:--butthose romantic, high-wrought, frenzied, emotions, that had rent my heartduring its first attachment--that enthusiasm, that fanaticism, to whichopposition had given force, the bare recollection of which still shookmy soul with anguish, no longer existed. Montague was but too sensibleof this difference, which naturally resulted from the change ofcircumstances, and was unreasonable enough to complain of what securedour tranquillity. If a cloud, sometimes, hung over my brow--if Irelapsed, for a short period, into a too habitual melancholy, he wouldgrow captious, and complain.
'You esteem me, Emma: I confide in your principles, and I glory in yourfriendship--but, you have never _loved_ me!'
'Why will you be so unjust, both to me, and to yourself?'
'Tell me, then, sincerely--I know you will not deceive me--Have you everfelt for me those sentiments with which Augustus Harley inspired you?'
'Certainly not--I do not pretend to it--neither ought you to wish it.My first attachment was the morbid excess of a distempered imagination.Liberty, reason, virtue, usefulness, were the offerings I carried toits shrine. It preyed incessantly upon my heart, I drank up its vitalspirit, it became a vice from its excess--it was a pernicious, though asublime, enthusiasm--its ravages are scarcely to be remembered withoutshuddering--all the strength, the dignity, the powers, of my mind, meltedbefore it! Do you wish again to see me the slave of my passions--do youregret, that I am restored to reason? To you I owe every thing--life,and its comforts, rational enjoyments, and the opportunity of usefulness.I feel for you all the affection that a reasonable and a virtuous mindought to feel--that affection which is compatible with the fulfillingof other duties. We are guilty of vice and selfishness when we yieldourselves up to unbounded desires, and suffer our hearts to be whollyabsorbed by one object, however meritorious that object may be.'
'Ah! how calmly you reason,--while I listen to you I cannot help lovingand admiring you, but I must ever hate that accursed Harley--No! _I amnot satisfied_--and I sometimes regret that I ever beheld you.'
Many months glided away with but little interruptions to ourtranquillity.--A remembrance of the past would at times obtrude itself,like the broken recollections of a feverish vision. To banish thesepainful retrospections, I hastened to employ myself; every hour wasdevoted to active usefulness, or to social and rational recreation.
I became a mother; in performing the duties of a nurse, my affectionswere awakened to new and sweet emotions.--The father of my childappeared more respectable in my eyes, became more dear to me: theengaging smiles of my little Emma repayed me for every pain and everyanxiety. While I beheld my husband caress his infant, I tasted a pure, achaste, an ineffable pleasure.
CHAPTER XX
About six weeks after my recovery from childbed, some affairs ofimportance called Mr Montague to London. Three days after he had quittedme, as, bending over the cradle of my babe, I contemplated in silenceits tranquil slumbers, I was alarmed by an uncommon confusion in thelower part of the house. Hastening down stairs, to enquire into thecause, I was informed--that a gentleman, in passing through the town,had been thrown from
his horse, that he was taken up senseless, and, aswas customary in cases of accident, had been brought into our house,that he might receive assistance.
Mr Montague was from home, a young gentleman who resided with us, andassisted my husband in his profession, was also absent, visiting apatient. Having myself acquired some knowledge of surgery, I wentimmediately into the hall to give the necessary directions on theoccasion. The gentleman was lying on the floor, without any signs oflife. I desired the people to withdraw, who, crowding round withsincere, but useless sympathy, obstructed the circulation of air.Approaching the unfortunate man, I instantly recognised the well-knownfeatures, though much altered, wan and sunk, of _Augustus Harley_.Staggering a few paces backward--a death-like sickness overspread myheart--a crowd of confused and terrible emotions rushed through mymind.--But a momentary reflection recalled my scattered thoughts. Oncebefore, I had saved from death an object so fatal to my repose. Iexerted all my powers, his hair was clotted, and his face disfiguredwith blood; I ordered the servants to raise and carry him to anadjoining apartment, wherein was a large, low sopha, on which they laidhim. Carefully washing the blood from the wound, I found he had receiveda dangerous contusion in his head, but that the scull, as I had at firstapprehended, was not fractured. I cut the hair from the wounded part,and applied a proper bandage. I did more--no other assistance being athand, I ventured to open a vein: the blood presently flowed freely, andhe began to revive. I bathed his temples, and sprinkled the room withvinegar, opened the windows to let the air pass freely through, raisedhis head with the pillows of the sopha, and sprinkled his face andbreast with cold water. I held his hand in mine--I felt the languid andwavering pulse quicken--I fixed my eyes upon his face--at that momentevery thing else was forgotten, and my nerves seemed firmly braced by myexertions.