The affectionate Jobson burst into tears as he spoke, while De Vallance was extremely struck at the re-appearance of the animal. He reminded Jobson that dogs were often extremely alike, and inquired how he knew that this actually belonged to Eustace.

"How do I know," replied he, "that I am Ralph Jobson? Why it knew me, and seemed to wag its tail; nay, made as though it would lick my hand."

"And did you not permit him?" said De Vallance.

The terrified trooper turned pale, and his teeth chattered with horror.

"I did not say that it was Fido's living self," exclaimed he; "and what would have become of me, had I been touched by a ghost? why my arm would have withered directly. I knew a man in village that had his nose beat flat to his face, only for peeping into the belfry, while a ghost was dancing among the bell-ropes.--No, to be sure, I flung a stone at it, and it ran away setting up a howl."

De Vallance now laboured to convince Jobson, that admitting the reality of spectral appearances in the human form, animals were not endowed with a vital principle, capable of existing distinct from their bodies.

Jobson was shocked at his master's presumptuous neglect of warnings, and he vehemently urged the impossibility of a living dog being at Worcester in September, and in Wales at Christmas. He stated the privilege of spirits to take any shape; and not nicely attending to the question of ident.i.ty, shewed from oral testimony, that they sometimes appeared as a glazed pipkin, and sometimes as the skeleton of a horse's head. The exertion of endeavouring to enlighten wilful absurdity increased the debility of De Vallance. Jobson's forebodings were turned into certainties, and he walked into the church-yard to see in what spot he should bury his master, and hoping to hear the death-watch, as a sign that he should rest beside him.

The landlady at the little inn, where the forlorn Arthur languished, pitying the sufferings of her interesting guest, and the inactive grief of his attendant, requested she might be permitted to send for an excellent gentleman, who was come to live in the neighbourhood, and had done many extraordinary cures.--"You need not," said she, "fear troubling him, he takes no pay but the blessings of those he heals; and he is said to be as useful to a wounded spirit, as he is to a diseased body." De Vallance was weary of life; but the soldier must not quit his post, till his discharge be duly signed by his Commander; he yielded therefore to the proposal. Jobson had a rooted dislike to all doctors; but reluctance to his master's employing one was changed into consternation, when he saw in the benevolent volunteer-Esculapius, the Doctor Lloyd against whom he had conceived an inveterate antipathy, verily believing him capable of poisoning a patient for the sake of converting him into an anatomy. He rushed into his master's chamber to announce his ident.i.ty, and when he found the intelligence only increased his eagerness to see him, he resolved however to prevent his taking any of his medicines.

The diseases brought on by fatigue and distress are seldom obstinate, when resisted by youth, a good const.i.tution, a clear conscience, and a calm judgment. Dr. Lloyd dealt in potent cordials. He possessed the essential qualities of a true friend; and the behaviour of De Vallance soon induced him to exert his talents in that capacity. He had hardly felt his pulse, before he p.r.o.nounced that little was necessary besides tranquillity and generous support. Arthur's heart panted with impatience to commence a confidential intimacy; but he recollected he must inspire confidence, before he could venture to require it. A sick stranger, languishing at a village-inn, was as likely to be the enemy as the friend of a cause it was now dangerous to espouse. Strongly pre-possessed in favour of a man, who courageously ventured among a mult.i.tude of hostile and infuriated soldiers, avowed his attachment to the victim they had just slaughtered, and bestowed on his corpse the decent sepulture they meant to deny, De Vallance felt no apprehension at trusting his own life ta such tried fidelity. He spoke of himself as friendless, distressed, and in the utmost need of advice and protection.

He declared himself to be a Loyalist, who, having engaged in the King's last attempt, would be excepted from the expected amnesty. By this means he drew Dr. Lloyd into a guarded communication of his former residence at Pembroke, and his acquaintance with Eustace Evellin. De Vallance owned himself to be a friend to that family. He even used the word brother. Dr. Lloyd turned on him a significant glance, when, to justify the claim, De Vallance drew from his bosom the letter of Isabel, and explained the hopes that had been defeated by the death of Eustace. "You will not wonder," added he, "that I have a painful eagerness to know every circ.u.mstance of that lamentable event."

Dr. Lloyd regarded his patient with scrutinizing attention. "You know,"

said he, "that the resolute defence of Pembroke-Castle provoked the parliamentary General to adopt measures that were intended to strike terror into the King's party; and from the particular manner in which you apply to me, you possibly also know that, influenced by compa.s.sion, I removed the body of Eustace, and performed those offices which friendship required."

The undefined, unacknowledged hopes which had floated in the mind of Arthur vanished at this reply, and as they disappeared, convinced him, that he had cherished a vain romantic illusion. A long pause ensued; De Vallance heaved a deep sigh, and asked if the n.o.ble youth was resigned to his fate.

"Life was very dear to him," answered Dr. Lloyd, "and no wonder.--Talent, personal beauty, lively and generous feelings, the purest sense of honour, and the n.o.blest aspirings after fame, were combined in his character. He loved too, and he knew himself beloved.

You seem, Sir, about his age; my sensibility has been blunted by time; but I will appeal to your own susceptibility, to conceive the sensations of his impa.s.sioned heart, when he found himself suddenly arrested in the bloom of manhood, by a summons to an ignominious death. This, too, at a distance from all his kindred, and after having sustained for many months the most severe warfare, and the cruellest privations. But if you ask me if he discovered any unmanly weakness at this awful moment--I answer none. He looked and moved like a hero going to mount the car of triumph. The l.u.s.tre of his dauntless eye appalled the musketeers, who were drawn up in the court. 'Take sure aim,' said he; 'Your commander spares not youth and loyalty; therefore be like him, pitiless.'"

"Detestable act, infernal ma.s.sacre!" exclaimed De Vallance.--"Retributive Heaven, I own thy justice! That murderous volley, Bellingham, slew thy son!" Dr. Lloyd clasped the clenched hands with which he seemed prepared to beat his own bosom, and requested an explanation.

"Do not, do not," said the tortured Arthur, "believe me capable of repaying your kind commiseration with ingrat.i.tude, if I own myself descended from the most cruel and treacherous of men. The murdered Eustace was rightful heir to the t.i.tle and fortunes which, as the son of Bellingham, I might claim. Shall I own, though my heart recoils at the confession, that I strongly fear a base private motive urged my father to select this victim, as a sacrifice to what he called public expedience.--Oh! Dr. Lloyd, had I never been born, had my ambitious parents laid no base projects for my aggrandizement, the n.o.ble Eustace had still lived."

"My good Sir," returned the kind physician, "we must debate this point a little. In the first place, let me a.s.sure you the lots were fairly cast.

I do not justify, indeed I severely reprobate the cruel policy which required the sacrifice of three victims; but it was resolved on in full council, the blame therefore is divided among all the officers. I also know that Lord Bellingham committed his own safety by endeavouring to preserve the life of Eustace."

An overwhelming load of infamy seemed, at this a.s.surance, removed from the oppressed De Vallance. "Speak it again, dear worthy man, again repeat that my father would have saved him. You know he would? You can swear to the fact? But soft--was not he supreme commander? What, then, prevented him from signing his pardon?"

Dr. Lloyd replied--"The limited power which a general possesses over troops, who, in obeying him, have cancelled the previous obligations of duty and conscience. He who accepts the command of a revolutionary army is ever fearful of being sacrificed by his own soldiers. His office makes him the ostensible champion of liberty; but his army claim a greater licence than consists with the requisite exercise of discipline and authority. His subordinate officers envy his supremacy; for the chain of prescriptive gradation is dissolved by the pretext of preferring merit; and what soldier of fortune is there who does not think himself equal to the highest posts which his machinations and enterprize can procure. We Loyalists (for such, Sir, I now in confidence own myself to be) have often said that Lord Bellingham was only half wicked. He retained too much of the gentleman to practise extortion, or to connive at the rapacity by which his subalterns tried to make the most of their brief authority. He enforced discipline without condescending to that familiarity and occasional indulgence which make severity palatable. He was an agent of the new system, trying to introduce the manners of the old. He saw his own danger when it was too late. He discovered that he served villains who, despising honest praise, renounced every honourable bond of amity, to whom treachery and cruelty were become habitual; and that he commanded desperadoes, who, setting no value on their own lives, kept his in their power. Such, Sir, was the state of your father's army, and such the secret hostility of those for whom he fought. You may condemn his embarking in their cause, his timidity, his irresolution, his fluctuating variableness, but not his deliberate cruelty or private malice. After Eustace had drawn the lot of death, the power of the general could not save him from an army lost to every generous feeling, and thirsting for revenge."

To know that his father had rather been guilty of the transgressions of frail man than of the horrible enormities of a demon, was an invaluable consolation to De Vallance. But still Eustace had fallen under the sentence of Bellingham, and himself consequently been banished from Isabel. Dr. Lloyd interrupted his mournful reverie by inquiring what were his future views.

"When you described Eustace going to execution," returned he, "you appealed to the sympathy of a heart eternally separated from the object of a pure, cherished affection. Read that letter. Conceive it written by a woman whose beauty is her smallest praise, and then advise me how to bestow the unvalued remnant of a life which must be spent in exile from her."

Dr. Lloyd perused Isabel's farewel, and inquired if her brother's death was the only obstacle to their union.

"Yes," replied De Vallance. "I had renounced the principles in which I was educated, abjured the aggrandizement and affluence which my parents'

crimes had purchased; I had her promise, sanctioned by her father's full consent, as a reward for services I was so fortunate as to render them.

We were to have fled to Holland, rich in the possession of domestic happiness and decent competence, when that fatal intelligence----"

"Come, young gentleman," interrupted Dr. Lloyd, "you meditate too deeply. I see you want society. The hardships you have undergone have overwhelmed you. I must remove you to my own cottage. I keep a cordial there which I never trust out of my own custody. I see your disease, and know my remedy will complete your cure."

"Sir," returned De Vallance, "we are talking of something infinitely more important than life. I know my disease is at present trifling, the effect of anxiety acting too forcibly on a fatigued body. I could say it consoles me, as a proof that my const.i.tution will not be always invincible to the attacks of these mental agonies; and you answer the communications which your sympathy has extorted from me on the soul-piercing subjects of my honour and my love, by telling me you have a nostrum that will relieve my head-aches, and ease my frame of this debilitating languor."

Dr. Lloyd rose, and examined the apartment to see that there were no witnesses; he then drew his chair close to De Vallance, and gazed on his emotion with the delight of a healing angel commissioned to alleviate the woes of virtue, and, grasping his hand, told him "he should see Eustace--the living Eustace," continued he. Seeing Arthur look incredulous, "Eustace Evellin is alive, and resides with me. Hush!

suppress that burst of ecstacy; all our lives are at stake. Not even honest Jobson must know he lives, lest his intemperate rapture should betray him."

De Vallance was rapt in pious exultation. Exonerated from such a load of paternal guilt, he seemed to pray with more a.s.sured confidence of Divine protection. His grat.i.tude to the worthy physician exceeded the powers of language. Enfeebled by indisposition, he sunk upon his bosom, called him a second father, and thanked him for a renewed and valuable existence.

Dr. Lloyd then briefly related the circ.u.mstances of Eustace's preservation. Either his magnanimity intimidated the executioners, or his gallantry and beauty inspired compa.s.sion. He refused to have his face covered, saying he feared not to look on death. The power of the human eye, in such circ.u.mstances, has been owned to be invincible. The volley was fired with unsteady aim. His fellow-sufferers fell dead. He stood unwounded; but a momentary impulse induced him to drop beside them, and to lie apparently lifeless, bathed in their blood. At the same instant his faithful spaniel rushed forward, licked his extended hand, and, with dreadful howlings, seemed to guard his remains; and the mutiny, excited by the agitators, broke out among the soldiers, who were drawn up to witness the horrid spectacle. While they clamorously accused the General of depriving them of their lawful right, the plunder of the town of Pembroke, and attempting to save the cavaliers, Lloyd heroically and adroitly took advantage of the tumult; and, though he had no other design than giving his corse decent internment, he had the transport to be instrumental in preserving the life of his friend. He took every wise precaution that his miraculous escape should be a profound secret.

Endeared to each other by these extraordinary circ.u.mstances, they agreed never to separate; and Dr. Lloyd removed to a spot where he was unknown, supported by the income of a small inheritance, and declining the practice of medicine, except gratuitously among the indigent. Eustace cut off his redundant hair, stained his complexion, and otherwise disguised his appearance; and he pa.s.sed as the son of a gentleman, who, being afflicted with mental derangement, was obliged to be kept in close retirement. Dr. Lloyd rented a neat secluded cottage; and the friends lived in decent privacy, waiting for happier times.

De Vallance now required an explanation of Fido's being seen at Worcester; and Dr. Lloyd owned that, finding it impossible to restrain the loyal impetuosity of Eustace, he went to that city to learn the situation of the King, since, if there were any hopes of a prosperous issue, he had consented that they should both join the royal standard.

The Doctor further added, that he feared their present comforts could not long continue. The surrender of the Earl of Derby's Castles had introduced the rebel troops into the neighbourhood; and he dreaded lest Eustace should be discovered and recognized. They therefore meditated a voyage to Virginia; and the plan was now suspended by the anxiety of Eustace to hear some tidings from his kindred, and to acquaint them with his situation. The impossibility of sending intelligence of such importance by a public conveyance, in times when the letters and actions of royalists were subjected to the most vigilant scrutiny; and the hazard and difficulty of forwarding it by a private hand had long prevented him from having any correspondence with his family; nor did he know the anguish his supposed murder had cost them. In those times of civil contention the dearest relatives were often long ignorant of each other's fate. So numerous were the instances of cruelty, so multiplied the tales of wo, that they wearied and confused the reciter. Many parents believed their sons safe in a foreign country, who, at last they found, had long since perished in some obscure skirmish, where valour bled unshaded by its deserved laurels. Others, who had lamented the death of their dearest relations, received them back at the King's restoration, as if they had risen from their tombs. The necessity of extreme caution, the frequency of a.s.sumed names and personal disguises, and the insecurity and infrequency of written communications, obliterated the traces of ident.i.ty. Among the less evils of civil war, dividing the ties and preventing the connecting intercourse of social life must be enumerated; and what opinion must those who rejoice in the conversation of a present friend, or open, with trembling delight, a letter from an absent one, form of a nation convulsed by furious discord, when the privation of these blessings is ranked only among its smaller calamities!

De Vallance had, that evening, the infinite transport of folding Eustace to his heart, in the comfortable asylum where the worthy Doctor Lloyd concealed the hope of an ill.u.s.trious house, the n.o.ble victim of adverse fortune. The generous youths pledged the vows of mutual and perpetual friendship. Conversing with all the confidence of brothers, Arthur acquainted Eustace with the early history of their family, and his own determination never to reap the fruits of his parents' misdeeds. He told him how Isabel had preserved his life; related the gradual change of his political principles--their mutual attachment--her heroical devotedness to her proscribed father--the meek magnanimity and active piety of Dr.

Beaumont--the arrival of Jobson--the agony of Colonel Evellin--and the deep anguish of Constantia; concluding with his own banishment from Ribblesdale, and the apparent extinction of his dearest hopes. To know that his youthful errors were not only pardoned, but that he was so dear and constant an object of regret to those he fondly adored, gave the heart of Eustace those alternations of exquisite delight and painful anxiety which distinguish generous and exalted minds from the cold equanimity of selfish apathy. Misery had often made him wish to be forgotten by all he loved; but no sooner did his misfortunes wear a less sombre hue, than his expanding heart cherished the hope that others beside himself rejoiced in the suspension of his misfortunes. He could not endure the thought of suffering these beloved objects to languish in despair on his account; and he determined to trust to his disguise, and immediately pay a visit to Lancashire. But Dr. Lloyd was too chary of the treasure he had so faithfully preserved, to intrust him to his own keeping. De Vallance and Eustace were both obnoxious to the ruling powers by having borne arms for the King; and he insisted on their continuing concealed in his Welsh cottage, while himself went to consult Dr. Beaumont upon their future measures. Emigration to America was a favourite project with all. It was hoped means might be found to remove Colonel Evellin; and the lovers allowed their imagination to form a transatlantic paradise, where, with their Constantia and Isabel, they might enjoy the halcyon blessings of domestic happiness, after having been so cruelly hara.s.sed by the storms of war. De Vallance did not now think it impossible to be reconciled to his father, or unlawful to use his mother's interest with Cromwell to procure a pardon for Colonel Evellin, whose incurable infirmities prevented his being an object of terror. Sometimes, with the sanguine confidence of a mind raised from absolute despair, he fancied a family-reconciliation might be effected; but he submitted to the prudence of Dr. Lloyd's advice, that every step must be taken with extreme caution, and dispositions sounded before discoveries should be hazarded.

The affectionate heart of Eustace would not allow that any one should suffer the misery of suspense on his account; and he pleaded so earnestly that Jobson might be allowed to see him, that Dr. Lloyd yielded, on the condition that the honest trooper should go with him to Lancashire, knowing that his exuberant transport might not be trusted in the neighbourhood where Eustace was concealed. The terror of Jobson at De Vallance's removing to the house of the supposed indefatigable anatomist was hardly relieved by seeing him return, next morning, looking well and happy. But an invitation from the Doctor to visit his cottage and see his curiosities absolutely petrified him; and he vowed he had rather see Old Noll charge at the head of Hazlerig's lobsters than dead men rattling their own bones, or poor innocent children swimming in pickle like witches in a pond. Winking on De Vallance with a look of significance, he said, "You do not know so much of this Doctor as I do; for though the whole country talks of his cures, they own he shuts himself up as if he dealt with the devil, and walks about with a melancholy gentleman who is haunted with a familiar spirit." Arthur engaged him in conversation till they imperceptibly approached the Doctor's cottage, when he first a.s.sured him of the actual existence of Fido, whom he was to be permitted to take to Constantia; and then changed incredulous astonishment to frantic joy, by pointing out the living Eustace advancing to embrace him. Jobson screamed, capered, tossed his cap into the air, clung round his former master's neck, then dropped on his knees, prayed, sobbed, and laughed, almost in the same instant. His grat.i.tude and affection for Dr. Lloyd was somewhat allayed by his envying him the happiness of preserving Eustace, whom, he acknowledged, he loved the best of all his masters, begging De Vallance to pardon him for saying so. Yet his regard for the amiable physician was mingled with some degree of terror; and it was not till he was a.s.sured that he did not travel with any stuffed monsters, or relics from a gibbet, that he could heartily rejoice at the prospect of telling Mrs.

Isabel that her lover and brother were sworn friends, of drying the tears of pretty Mrs. Constance, and of seeing the old Colonel without being hated as the bearer of ill news. But on carefully examining the wallet which Dr. Lloyd prepared for the journey, and ascertaining that, instead of astrological calculations and scalping knives, it contained only comforts and necessaries, Jobson, with renewed courage and joyous expectations, set out to accompany him on a delightful errand to Ribblesdale.

CHAP. XXII.

Those that would serve G.o.d sincerely in affluence have infinitely greater advantages and opportunities for it in adverse fortune; therefore let us set vigorously to the task that lies before us, supplying in the abundance of inward beauty what is wanting to the outward l.u.s.tre of the church; and we shall not fail to find that the grots and caves lie as open to the celestial influences as the fairest and most beautiful temples.

Dr. Henry Hammond's Letters.

A painter, who is solicitous to give just representations of nature, must blend his lights and shades, and contrast vivid colours with sombre hues. The correct imitator of human life must also alternately introduce joys and sorrows. Is it the langour of unwarrantable depression, the indulged caprice of fastidious sensibility, or a more intimate acquaintance with the dark colourings of disappointment than with the sunshine of prosperity, which induces the conclusion, that the likeness to reality will be more faithfully preserved if a sombre tinge predominates in the fict.i.tious narrative that paints the trials of highly honourable and susceptible minds? The refinement which inspires liberal desires and generous motives exposes its possessor to a more lively feeling of the injuries inflicted by envy, selfishness, and duplicity. The golden dreams of ingenuous candour and conscious ability are rarely realized, and acute perception and high-minded integrity, though most propitious to the growth of every virtue, seem to be the choice fruits of heaven which, in the austere climate of this lower world, require shelter and protection.

It is not murmuring against the wisdom or justice of Providence to admit, that in a probationary state the most perfect characters are they who have been purified by "much tribulation, and through faith and patience inherit the promises." The instrument used in this ordeal is generally our brother-man. Yet, while with hope and confidence, we look forward to a glorious issue of temporal affliction in eternal glory, let us beware of unfitting ourselves for the future recompence by extreme resentment against those who are the agents that Almighty Wisdom uses to improve us. Let us not attribute to malice and cruelty what may be referred to less criminal motives. Do we not often afflict others undesignedly, and, from mere carelessness, neglect to relieve distress?

Our own concerns, interests, and wishes engross our thoughts. Nothing is so important to us as forwarding our own aims; and our fellow-creatures are too often but inconvenient lumber if they stand in our way, or merely useful implements if they forward our designs. It is from a want of attention to the feelings of others, from a neglect of the golden rule of putting ourselves in their place, and not from innate malice or a diabolical delight in giving pain, that the sorrows caused by domestic tyrants and puny oppressors chiefly proceed. Were self-love reduced within proper bounds, earth would resemble heaven. Let those, then, who deeply feel those "wrongs which patient merit of the unworthy takes,"

temper their aspirations after a state where universal good-will is the source and cement of bliss, by cultivating that excellent preparative for its fruition, a spirit of active, enlarged, and considerate benevolence.

These reflections will not unaptly precede the return of Lady Bellingham from her northern expedition. It never was the practice of Cromwell to render any one disrespect while his services could be useful, or till he was prepared to prevent the effects of his enmity. While the success of the King remained doubtful, he wished not to make himself any more enemies; and at the same time that he restrained and mulcted the Presbyterians, he endeavoured to persuade them to make common cause with the fanatics. He received Lady Bellingham (who was the avowed patroness of the latter) with much apparent respect, and at the same time he wrote kindly to her Lord, promising that his party should be admitted to a share in the government as soon as he could let the dove out of the ark to fetch the olive branch, which could not be the case as long as the floods of unG.o.dliness covered the earth. He styled himself the servant of the Commonwealth, and the a.s.sured friend of Lord Bellingham; but nothing was further from Cromwell's heart than an intention of realizing these promises. His only aim was to pacify and amuse his opponents till he gained leisure to play his own game. He loaded Lady Bellingham with flattering expressions, selected her to stand by his side, when, as he called it, he rose in the congregation of the saints to give the word of exhortation, and appealed to her as the judge and expounder of his spiritual gifts. These, he observed, were all the refreshing attentions which the necessity of pursuing the host of Sisera allowed him to pay to the Deborah of the English Israel, except permitting her to reside in Bellingham-Castle, and to plead his friendship and protection.

The victory at Worcester was of that decided nature, which enabled Cromwell to throw off the mask, to dissolve that pantomime of a Parliament in whose name he had hitherto governed, and to a.s.sume the t.i.tle of "Protector of the liberties of England." He now exercised a more despotic tyranny than this nation suffered either from her Danish or Norman conquerors. He confined the elective franchise to himself, creating what he called Parliaments for the sole purpose of making them ridiculous, and then turning out his mock-legislators with contempt. He alternately punished and provoked every party; even his own agents and creatures could not escape his apprehensive suspicions, which, by indulgence, engendered an insatiable thirst of blood. Yet, combining great qualities with the meanest vices--the policy of an Augustus and the enterprize of a Trajan with the dissimulation of Tiberius and the cruelty of Domitian, he at once awed and dazzled surrounding nations, and while he subjugated, exalted his own. Never was England more respected than when unlimited power, undaunted courage, and persevering activity placed all her resources in the hands of a man who, scarcely ranked by birth in the patrician order, could make every European sovereign tremble on his throne. Yet still, like the mystical sun in the Apocalypse, tormenting others while he was himself tormented, the era of his a.s.suming power was the consummation of his extreme misery. He waded through seas of blood; he broke every divine and human obligation; he made the name of liberty a terror, and that of religion contemptible, to become himself a more pitiable object than the veriest wretches whom he inhumed in his prisons. They had some who sympathized in their sufferings, some who wished them G.o.d speed; but though the civilized world trembled at the name of Cromwell, he knew he had spies, creatures, and parasites, but not one friend.

Yet amidst this secret wretchedness and universal odium, the distant reflex of his name and authority was respected by all. Lady Bellingham found her reception very different, as the Protector's friend, in her return through England, than when she fled to Scotland an alarmed fugitive. Conscious of former remissness, Morgan met her at Lancaster, and earnestly entreated she would repose some days at Saint's-Rest after the fatigue of her journey. The alarm and mortification she had endured in that neighbourhood made her recollect the village with disgust; but there were some mysteries which she wished him to explain. Nursery tales affirm, that Puss, when converted into a fine lady, retained her old propensity of catching mice; and though Lady Bellingham was transformed from a fine lady into a devotee, the renovating spirit of true religion had not altered her temper or inclinations; there was the same waywardness in the former, the same cold selfishness in the latter.

While she raved at formal and legal Christians, she was herself the true formalist, presuming on superior merit from the length of her devotional exercises, her rigid austerities, and the sums she expended in spreading her peculiar notions. But she came out of her closet to make her inmates and dependants wretched; her fasting-days were unsanctified through moroseness, and beside that, her gifts were too much confined to party-purposes to be ent.i.tled to the praise of charity; ostentation blew the trumpet before her alms, and she had the reward she sought, in the praise of men.

To return from the description to the ill.u.s.tration of this not uncommon character. It happened one evening, as the Countess was antic.i.p.ating the joys of Heaven, by an a.n.a.logy drawn from the delights which Bellingham-Castle afforded, and which she supposed would there be increased in an infinite ratio, that her humble companion ventured to recall her imagination to this world, by producing what she thought a very pretty poem on the subject of love, which she found in their chamber at the miserable old delinquent's at Ribblesdale. Lady Bellingham shook her head at the name of love, commanded Mrs. Abigail to avoid the sinful subject, and to expiate the offence by reading fifty pages of "a popular fanatical treatise."

As the waiting-gentlewoman retired to perform the penance, Lady Bellingham commanded her to leave the paper that she might destroy it.

But though the word Love was dangerous to a tyro in Antinomianism, the situation of the initiated is very different; to the former all things are sinful, but the latter being free from the law, and above ordinances, have a large licence. Valuing herself now only on her spiritual graces, Lady Bellingham opened the profane legend, which, she expected, described personal attractions; and to her astonishment recognized the writing of her son, of whom she had heard no certain tidings since the battle of Preston, but who was supposed, both by Cromwell and herself, to be in the north of Ireland, where an officer of the same name had gained celebrity.

The date proved that he had been a resident in Dr. Beaumont's family; no name was prefixed, but the lines breathed a permanent attachment, to which, after some resistance, he had entirely surrendered his heart.

O place thy breast against a turbid stream, Beat with strong arm the flood, and tread the wave, Or toil incessant 'neath the burning beam, When, like a giant woke from wa.s.sail-dream, Sol rushes furious from the lion's cave:

Then mayst thou know how hard to stem the tide Of chaste desire, and love's o'erwhelming storm, When by entranc'd affection first descry'd, Beauty and truth, such as in Heaven reside, Appear on earth in woman's lovely form.