The miscellaneous works of Henry Mackenzie

'Dammee,' said he, hiccuping, * not on compulsion, dammee, for you nor any man, dammee/ The landlord.and Mr Ryland now interposed, and, with the assistance of Harriet, pacified Sir Thomas, from the consideration of the gentleman's being in a temporary state of insanity: Sindall accordingly let go his hold, and went on with Harriet

to the chaise, while the other, re-adjusting his neck-cloth, swore that he would have another peep at the girl notwithstanding. When Harriet was seated in the chaise, Sindall took notice of the flutter into which this accident had thrown her; she confessed that she had been a good deal alarmed, lest there' should have been a quarrel on her account, and L3

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begged Sir Thomas, if he had any regard for her ease of mind, to think no more of any vengeance against the other gentleman. ' Fear not, my adorable Harriet,' whispered Sir Thomas ; * if I thought there were one kind remembrance of Sindall in that heavenly bosom9 the chaise drove on ■ — she blushed a reply to this unfinished speech, and bowed, smiling, to its author.

CHAP. XXIII.

HARRIET PROCEEDS ON HER JOURKEY WITH

RYLAND A. VERY DARING ATTACK IS

MADE UPON THEM.—THE CONSEQUENCES.

jS othing farther happened worthy of record* ing, till towards the close of that journey which Sir Thomas's direction had marked out for their first day's progress. Ryland had before observed, that Sir Thomas's short roads had turned out very sorry ones; and when it be* gan to be dark, Harriet's fears made her take notice, that they had got upon a large common, where, for a great way round, there was not a house to be seen. Nor was she at all re* lieved by the information of the post-boy, who, upon being interrogated by Ryland as to the safety of the road, answered,' To be sure master, I've known some highwaymen frequent this common, and there stands a gibbet hard by,.

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where two of them have hung these three years/ He had scarcely uttered this speech, when the noise of horsemen was heard behind them, at which Miss Anne&ly's heart began to palpitate, nor was her companion's free from unusual agitation. He asked the post-boy in a low voice, if he knew the riders who were coming up behind ; the boy answered in the negative, but that he needed not be afraid, as he observed a carriage along with them.

The first of the horsemen now passed the chaise in which Ryland and Harriet were, and at the distance of a few yards they crossed the road, and made a halt on the other side of it. Harriet's fears were now too much alarmed to be quieted by the late assurance of the postboy : she was not, indeed, long suffered to remain in a state of suspense; one of those objects of her terror called to the driver to stop \ which the lad had no sooner complied with, than he rode up to the side of the carriage where the lady was seated, and told her, in a tone ra^ ther peremptory than threatening, thqt she must allow, that gentleman (meaning Ryland) to accept-of a seat in another carriage, which was just behind, and do him and his friends the honour of taking one of them for her companion. He received no answer to this demand, she to whom it was made having fainted into the arm* of her terrified fellow-traveller. In this state of insensibility, Ryland was forced, by the in> human ruffian and his associates, to leave her, and enter a chaise which now drew up to re

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ceive him; and one of the gang, whose appearance bespoke something of a higher rank than the rest, seated himself by her, and was very assiduous in using proper means for her recovery. When that was effected, he begged her; . in terms of great politeness, not to make herself in the least uneasy, for that no harm was

intended.-- * Oh heavens !* she cried, * where ami? What would you have ? Whither would you carry me? Where is Mr Ryland?'—i If you mean the gentleman in whose company you were, Madam, you may be assured, that nothing ill shall happen to him any more than to yourself.'—* Nothing ill I* said she; * merciful God! What do you intend to do with me ?'—«I would not do you a mischief for the world,' answered he, ' and if you will be patient for a little time, you shall be satisfied that you are in danger of none.'—All this while they forced the post-boy to drive on full speed; and there was light enough for Harriet to discover, that the rpad they took had so little the appearance of a frequented one, that there was, but a very small chance of her meeting with any relief. In a short time after, however* when the moon shining out made it lighter, she found they were obliged to slacken their pace, from being met, in a narrow part of the road, by some persons on horseback. The thoughts of relief recruited a little her exhausted spirits % and having got down the front-glass, she called out as loud as she was able, begging their as*

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ruffians* One, who attended the carriage by way of guard, exclaimed, that it was only ft poor wretch out of her senses, whom her friends were conveying to a place of security ; but Harriet, notwithstanding some endeavours of the man in the chaise to prevent her, cried out with greater vehemence than before, entreating them, for God's sake, to pity and re* lieve her. By this time one, who had been formerly behind, came up to the front of the party tbey had met, and overhearing this last speech of Harriet's*-1 Good God f said he,

* can it be Miss Annesly ?' Upon this, her companion in the carriage jumped out with a pistol in his hand, and presently she heard the report of fire-arms, at which the horses taking fright, ran furiously across the fields for a considerable way before their driver was able

to stop diem. He had scarcely accomplished that, when he was accosted .by a servant in livery, who bade him fear nothing, for that his master bad obliged the villains to make off.--*' Eternal blessing*

on him!' cried Harriet, ' and to that Providence whose instrument he is/—' To have been of any service to Miss Annesly,' replied a gentleman who now appeared leading bis horse, « rewards itself/ *

.It was Sindall t •—-' Gracious powers!' exclaimed the astonished Harriet, ' can it be you, Sir Thomas ?'—* Com* pose yourself, my dear Miss Annesly/ said he,

* lest the surprise of your deliverance should overpower your spirits/

—He had opened the door of the chaise, and Harriet by a natu*

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ral motion, made room for him to sit by her.— He accordingly gave his horse to a servant, and stepped into the chaise, directing the driver to strike down a particular path, which would lead him to a small inn, where he had sometimes passed the night when a-hunting.

When he pulled up the glass, * Tell me, tell me, Sir Thomas,' said Harriet, ' what guardian angel directed you so unexpectedly to my relief ?'—* That guardian angel, my fairest, which I trust wiil ever direct us to happiness; my love, my impatient love, that could not bear the tedious days which my Harriet's presence had ceased to brighten.'——When she would have expressed the warmth of her gratitude for his services: * Speak not of them,' said he? ' I only risked a life in thy defence, which, without thee, it is nothing to possess.*

They now reached that inn to which Sindali had directed them; where if they found a homely, yet it was a cordial reception*. The landlady who had the most obliging and attentive behaviour in the world, having heard of the accident which had befallen the lady, produced, some waters which, she said, were highly cordial, and

begged Miss Annesly to take a large glass of them ; informing her, that they were made after a receipt of her grand-mother's, who was one of the most notable doctresses in the country. Sir Thomas, however, was not satisfied with this prescription alone, but dispatched one of his servants to fetch a neighLouring surgeon, as Miss Annesly's alarm, he

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said, might have more serious consequences than people, ignorant of such things, could imagine. For this surgeon, indeed, there seemed more employments than one; the sleeve of .Sir Thomas's shirt was discovered to be all over blood, owing as he imagined, to the grazing of a pistol-ball which had been fired at him* This himself treated very lightly, but it awakened the fears and tenderness of Harriet in the liveliest manner.

The landlady now put a question, which indeed might naturally have suggested itself before ; to-wit, Whom they suspected to be the instigators of this outrage? Sir Thomas answered, that, for his part, he could form no probable conjecture about the matter; and, turning to Miss Annesly, asked her opinion on the subject; ' Sure/ said he, ' it cannot have been that ruffian who was rude to you at the inn where we dined.' Harriet answered, that she could very well suppose it might; adding, that though in the confusion she did not pretend to have taken very distinct notice of things, yet she thought there was a person standing at the door, near to that drunken gentleman, who had some resemblance of the man that sat by her in the chaise.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the surgeon, which, from the vigilance of the survant, happened in a much shorter time than could have been expected; and Harriet peremptorily insisted, that, before he took any

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charge of her, he should examine and dress tb£ wound on Sir Thomas's arm. To this, there* fore, the baronet was obliged to consent; awl after having been some time with the operator in an adjoining chamber, they returned together, Sir Thomas's arm being slung in a piece of crape, and the surgeon declaring highly t# Miss Annesly's satisfaction, that with proper care there was no sort of danger; though he added, that if the shot had taken a direction but half an inch more to the left, it would have shattered the bone to pieces. This last declaration drove the blood again from Harriet's cheek, and contributed, perhaps, more than any thing else, to that quickness and trenmlation of pulse which the surgeon on applying his finger to her wrist, pronounced to be the case* He ordered his patient to be undrest; which* was accordingly done, the landlady accommodating her with a bed-gown of her own; anil then, having mulled a little wine> he mixed ia it some powders of his own composition, a secret, he said, of the greatest efficacy in re-ad*

justing any disorders in the nervous system; of which draught he recommended a large tea* cupful to be taken immediately. Harriet objected strongly against these powcfaws, tilt the surgeon seemed to grow angry at he* refusal, and recapitulated, in a very rapid manner, the success which theiradministi^iesliadmnMmgr great famines whe did him the honour of em~ ploying him. Harriet; the gentleness o#

whose

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nature could offend no one living, overcame her reluctance, and swallowed the dose that was Offered her.

The indignation of my soul has with difficulty submitted so long to this cool description of a scene of the most exquisite villainy. The genuineness of my tale needs not the aid of surprise to interest the feelings of my readers. It is with horror I tell them, that the various incidents, which this and the preceding chapter contain, were but the

prelude of a design formed by Sindall for the destruction of that innocence, which was the dowry of Anneely's daughter. He had contrived a route the most proper for the success of his machinations, which the ignorance of Ryland was prevailed on to follow a he had bribed a set of banditti to execute that sham rape, which his seeming valour was to prevent; he had scratched his wrist with a penknife, to make the appearance of being wounded in the cause; he had trained his victim to the bouse of a wretch whom he had before employed in purposes of a similar kind; he had dressed one of his own creatures to personate a surgeon, and that surgeon, by his directions, had administered certahr powders, of which the damnable effects were to assist the execution of his villainy.

Beset with toils like these, his helpless prey was, alas I too much in his power to have any chance of escape; and that guilty night com •■

pleted the ruin of her, whom, but the day before,, the friend of Sindall, in the anguish of his

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soul, had recommended to his care and protection. —

Let me close this chapter on the monstrous deedI—That such things are, is a thought distressful to humanity their detail can gratify no mind that deserves to be gratified.

CHAP, XXIV.

THE SITUATION OF HARRIET, AND THE

CONDUCT OF SINDAL.L THEY PROCEED

HOMEWARD SOME INCIDENTS IN THEIR

JOURNEY.

1 would describe, if I could, the anguish which the recollection of the succeeding day brought

on the mind of Harriet Annesly >But it is in such passages, that the expression of the writer will do little justice even to his own feelings; much must therefore be left to those of the reader.

The poignancy of her own distress was doubled by the idea of her father's ;—a father's, whose pride, whose comfort, but a few weeks ago, she had been, to whom she was now to return deprived of that innocence* which could never be restored. I should rather say that honour; for guilt it could not be called, under the circumstances into which she had been betrayed ; but the world has little distinction to make; and the fall of her, whom the deepest y Google

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villainy has circumvented, it brands with thai common degree of infamy, which, in its justice, it always imputes to the side of the less criminal party.

Sindairs pity (for we will do him no injustice) might be touched; his passion was but little abated; and he employed the language of both to comfort the affliction he had caused. From the violence of what, by the perversion of words, is termed love, he excused the guilt of his past conduct, and protested his readiness to wipe it away by the future. - He begged that Harriet would not suffer her delicacy to make her unhappy under the sense of their connection; he vowed that he considered her as his wife, and that, as soon as particular circumstances would allow him, he would make her what the world called so, though the sacredness of his attachment was above being increased by any form whatever.

There was something in the mind 6f Harriet which allowed her little ease under all these protestations of regard; but they took off the edge of her present affliction, and she heard them, if not with a warmth of; hope, at least with an alleviation of despair.

They now set out on their return to the peaceful mansion of Annesly.

How blissful, in any other circumstances, had Harriet imagined the sight of a father, whom she now trembled to behold!

They had not proceeded many miles, when they were met by Ryjand, attended by a nam* M2

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ber of rustics, whom he had assembled for the purpose of searching after Miss Annesly. It was only indeed by the lower class that the ac*

count he gave had been credited, for which those who did not believe it cannot much be blamed, when we consider its improbability* and likewise that Jack's persuasive powers were not of a sort that easily induces persuasion, even when not disarranged by the oonfu> sion and fright of such an adventure.

His joy at finding Harriet safe in the protection of Sir Thomas* was equally turbulent with his former fedrs for her welfare. After re*

warding his present associates with the greatest part of the money in his pocket, he proceeded* in a manner not the most distinct, to give an account of what befel himself subsequent to that violence which had torn him from his com* panion. The chaise, he said, into which ht was forced, drove, by several cross roads,, about three or four miles from the place where they were first attacked; it then stopping, his at* tendant commanded him to get out, and, point* ing to a farm-house, which by the light of the moon was discernible at some distance, told him, that, if he went thither, he would find ac*

commodation for the night, and might pursue his journey with safety in the morning.

He now demanded, in his turn, a recital from Harriet of her share of their common calamity, which she gave him m the few words the present state of her spirits could afford. When she had ended, Ryland fell on his knees

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in gratitude to Sir Thomas for her deliverance. Harriet turned on Sindall a look infinitely expressive, and it was followed by a starting tear*

They now proceeded to the next stage on their way homeward, Sindall declaring, that/ after what had happened, he would, on no account, leave Miss Annesly, till he had delivered her safe into the hands of her father. She heard this speech with a sigh so deep, that if Ryland had possessed much penetration, he would have made conjectures of something uncommon on her mind; but he was guiltless of imputing to others, what his honesty never experienced in himself. Sir Thomas observed il better, and gently chid it by squeezing her, hand in his.

At the inn where they first stopped, they met with a gentleman who made the addition of a fourth person to their party, being an officer who was going down to the same part of the country on recruiting orders, and happened to be a particular acquaintance of Sir Thomas Sindall: his name was Camplin.

He afforded to their society an ingredient of which at present it seemed to stand pretty much in need; to wit, a proper share of mirth and humour, for which nature seemed, by a profusion of animal spirits, to have very well fitted him. She had not perhaps bestowed on him much sterling wit; but she had given him abundance of that counterfeit assurance, which frequently passes more current than the real. In this company, to which chance had asso* M3

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138 TH* MAH OP tUZ WOftLftr dated him, be had an additional advantage from the presence of Rylaftd, whom he very soon discovered to be of that order of men called Butts, those easy cushions (to borrow a metaphor of Otway's) on whom the wits of the world repose and fatten.

Besides all this* he had a fund of conversation, arising from the adventures of a life, which, according to his own account, he had passed equally in the perils of war and the luxuries of peace; his memoirs affording re* peated instances of his valour in dangers of the field, his address in the society of the great, and his gallantry in connections with the fair.

But lest the reader should imagine, that the real portraiture of this gentleman was to be found in those lineaments which he drew of himself, I will take the liberty candidly, though briefly, to communicate some particulars relating to his quality, his situation, and his cbaracter. »

He was the son of a man. who called himself an attorney, in a village adjoining to Sir Thomas Sindall's estate* His father, Sir William, with whom I made my readers a little acquainted in the beginning of my story, had found this same lawyer useful in carrying on tome proceedings against his poor neighbours* which the delicacy of more established practitioners in the law might possibly have boggled at; and he had grown into consequence with the baronet, from that pliancy of disposition which was suited to hia service. Not thai y Google

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Sir William was naturally cruel or oppressive* but he had an exalted idea of the consequence which a great estate confers on its possessor* which was irritated beyond measure when any favourite scheme of his was opposed by a man of little fortune, however just or proper his reasons for opposition might be; and, though a good

sort of man, as I have before observed! his vengeance was implacable.

Young Camplin, who was nearly of an age with Master Tommy Siadall, was frequently at Sir William's in quality of a dependant com* pauion to his son; and, before the baronet died, be had procured him an ensign's commission in a regiment, which some years after was stationed in one of our garrisons abroad, where Camplin, much against his inclination, was under a necessity of joining it.

Here he happened to have an opportunity of obliging the chief in command, by certain little offices, which,' though not strictly honourable in themselves, are sanctified by the favour and countenance of many honourable men; and so much did they attach his commander to the fensign, that the latter was very soon promoted by his interest to the rank of a lieutenant, and not long after was enabled to make * very advantageous purchase of a company.

With this patron also he returned to England, and was received at fill times in a very familiar manner into his house; where he had the honour of carving good dishes which he WW sometimes permitted to taste, of laughing

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at jokes which he was sometimes allowed to make, and carried an obsequious face into all companies, who were not treated with such extraordinary respect as to preclude his approach. • About this time, his father, whose business in the country had not increased since the death of Sir William Sindall, had settled in London, where the reader will recollect the having met with him in a former chapter ; but the captain, during his patron's residence there, lived too near St James's to make many visits to Gray's Inn; and after that gentleman left the town, he continued to move amidst a circle of men of fashion,

with whom he contrived to live in a manner which has been often defined by the expression of' nobody knows how :' which sort of life he had followed uninterruptedly without ever joining his regiment, till he was now obliged, by the change of a colonel, to take some of the duty in his turn, and was ordered a-recruiting, as I have taken due occasion to relate. *

In this company did Harriet return to her father. As the news of disaster is commonly speedy in its course, the good man liad already been confusedly informed of the attack which had been made on his daughter. To him, therefore, this meeting was so joyful, as almost to blot from his remembrance the calamities which had lately befallen his family. But far different were the sensations of Harriet: she shrunk from the sight of a parent, of whose purity she now conceived herself unworthy, and

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fell blushing on his neck, which she bathed with a profusion of tears.

This he imagined to proceed from her sensibility of those woes which her unhappy brother had suffered; and he forbore to take notice of her distress, any otherwise than by maintaining a degree of cheerfulness himself, much above what the feelings of his heart could warrant*

He was attended, when her fellow-travellers accompanied Miss Annesly to his house, by a gentleman, whom he now introduced to her by the name of Rawlinson, saying he was a very worthy friend of his, who had lately returned from abroad* Harriet, indeed, recollected to have heard her father mention such a one in their conversation before; Though a good deal younger than Annesly, hie had been a very intimate school-fellow of his in London* from . which place he was Sent to the East Indies, and returned, as was common in those days, with some thousand pounds, and a good conscience, to his native country* A genuine plainness of manners, and a warm benevolence of heart, neither the refinements of life, nor the subtleties of traffic, had been able to weaken in Rawlinson ; and he set out, under the Impression of both, immediately after his arrival in

England, to visit a companion, whose Virtues he remembered with veneration, and the value of whose friendship he had not forgotten.

Annesly received him with that welcome which his fire-side ever afforded to the worthy; and Harriet, through the dimness of ber grief, smiled on the friend of ber father.

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CHAP. XXV,

SOMETHING FARTHER OF MR RAWLINSON.

JKawlinson found his reception so agreeable, that he lengthened his visit much beyond the limits which he at first intended it; and the earnest request of Annesly, to whom his friend's company was equally pleasing, extended them etill a little farther.

During this period, he had daily opportunities of observing the amiable dispositions of Harriet, He observed, indeed, a degree of melancholy about her, which seemed extraordinary in one of her age

; but he was satisfied to account for it, from the relation, which her father had given him, of the situation of his son, and that remarkable tenderness of which his daughter was susceptible. When viewed in this light, it added to the good opinion which he already entertained of her.

His esteem for Miss Annesly showed itself by every mark of attention, which a regard for the other sex unavoidably prompts in ours; and a young woman, or her father, who had no more penetration in those matters than is common to many, would not have hesitated to pronounce, that Rawlinson was already the lover of Harriet, But as neither she nor her father had any wishes pointing that way, which had been one great index for discovery, they were void of any suspicion of his intentions, till he declared them to Annesly himself.

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He did this, with an openness and sincerity Conformable to the whole of his character. He told his friend, that he had now made such a fortune as enabled him to live independently, and that he looked for a companion to participate it, whose good sense would improve what were worthy, and whose good nature would bear what were imperfect in him. He had discovered, he said, so much of both in the mind of Miss Annesly, that there needed not the recommendation of being the daughter of his worthiest friend to determine his choice; and that, though he was not old enough to be insensible to beauty, yet he was wise enough to consider it as the least of her good qualities. He added, that he made this application to her father, not to ask a partial exertion of his interest in his favour, but only, as the common friend of both, to reveal his intentions to Miss Harriet. ' She has seen me/ ' said he, • as I am; if not a romantic lover, I shall not be a different sort of being, should she accept of me for a husbands if she does not, I promise you, I shall be far from being offended, and will always endeavour to retain her for my friend, whom I have no right to blame for not chusing to be my wife.'

Annesly communicated this proposal to his daughter, with a fairness, worthy of that with which it had been entrusted to him: * I come not/

said he, ' my Harriet, as a despot to command, not as a father to persuade, tyut merely as the friend of Mr Rawlinson, to disclose his y Google

144 THE If AM OV THB WORLD.

sentiments; that you should judge for yourself, in a matter of the highest importance to you, is the voice of reason and of nature! I blush for those parents who have thought otherwise* I would not even, with a view to this particular case, obtrude my advice; in genera), yon have heard my opinion before, that the violence which we have been accustomed to apply to love, is not always necessary

towards happiness in marriage; at the same time, that it ib a treason of the highest kind in a woman to take him for her husband, whom a decent affection has not placed in that situation, whence alone she should chuse one. But my Harriet has not merely been taught sentiments; I know she has learned the art of forming them ; and here she shall be trusted entirely to her own."

The feelings of Harriet on this proposal, and the manner in which her father communicated it, were of so tender a kind, that she could not restrain her tears. There wanted, indeed^ but little to induce her to confess all that had passed with Sindall, and throw herself on the clemency of her indulgent parent, {lad she practised this sincerity, which is the last virtue we should ever part with, how happy had it been! But it required a degree of fortitude, aa well as softness, to make this disco* very; besides, that her seducer had, with the tenderest intreaties, and assurances of a speedy Reparation of her injuries, prevailed on her to give him something like a promise of secrecy.

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expressed her sense of the obligation she lay under to him, and to her father; she avowed an esteem for his character equal to its excellence, but that it amounted not to that tender regard which she must feel for the man whom she could think of making her husband.

Rawlinson received his friend's account of this determination Without discomposure. He said, he knew himself well enough to believe that Miss Annesly had made an honest and a proper declaration; and begged to have an interview with herself, to shew her that he con**

ceived not the smallest resentment at her refusal, which, on the contrary, though it destroyed his hopes, had increased his veneration for her.

4 Regard me not,' said he to her when they met, « with that aspect of distance, as if you .had offended or affronted me; let me not lose that look of kindness which, as the friend of your father and yourself, I have formerly experienced. I confess there is one disparity between us, which we elderly men are apt to forget, but which I take no offence at being

rit in mind of. It is more than probable that shall never be married at all. Since I am not a match for you, Miss Annesly, I would endeavour to make you somewhat better, if it is possible, for another; do me the favour to accept of this paper, and let it speak for me, that I would contribute to your happiness, without the selfish consideration of its being made one with my own.9 So saying, he bowed, Yol.II- N

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and retired into an adjoining apartment, where his friend was seated*

Harriet, upon opening the paper, found it to contain bank-bills to the amount of a thousand pounds. Her surprise at this instance of generosity held her. for a few moments, fixed to the spot; but she no sooner recollected herself, than she followed Mr Rawlinson, and putting the paper, with its contents, into his hand, ' Though I feel, Sir/

said she, ' with the utmost gratitude, those sentiments of kindness and generosity you have expressed towards me, you will excuse me, I hope from receiving this mark of them.'— Rawlinson's countenance betrayed some indications of displeasure.—-* You do wrong/ said he, ' young lady, and I will be judged by your father—**—This was a present, Sir, I intended for the worthiest woman ; the daughter of my worthiest friend; she is a woman still, I see, and her pride will no more than her affections submit itself to my happiness/ Annesly looked upon the bank-bills : * There is a delicacy, my ' best friend/

said he, ' in our situation; the poor must ever be cautious, and there is a certain degree of pride which is their safest virtue/— ' Let me tell you/ interrupted the other, ' this is not the pride of virtue* It is that fantastic nicety which is a weakness in the soul, and the ' dignity of great minds is above it. Believe me, . the churlishness which cannot

oblige, is little more selfish, though in a different mode, than the haughtiness which will not be obliged/ ' We are instructed; my child/

said Annesly,

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delivering her the patter; € let us shew Mr Rawlinson that we have not that narrowness of mind which he has censured; and that we will pay that last tribute to his worth which the receiving of a favour bestows/

' Indeed, Sir/ said Harriet, ' I little deserve it; I am not, I am not what he thinks roe.—I am not worthy of his- regard/ And she burst into tears. They knew not why she wept; but their eyes shed each a sympathetic drop, with* out asking their reasons leave*

Mr Rawlinson speedily set out for London, where his presence was necessary towards dispatching some business he had left unfinished, after his return to England.

He left his friend, and his friend's amiable daughter, with a tender regret; while they, who, in their humble walk of life, had few to whom that title would belong, felt his absence with an equal emotion. He promised, however, at his departure, to make them another visit with the return of the spring.

CHAP. XXVL

CAPTAIN CAMPMN IS AGAIN INTRODUCED. —THE SITUATION

OF MISS ANNESLY, WITH THAT GENTLEMAN'S CONCERN IN

HER AFFAIRS.

tils place was but ill supplied, at their winter's fire-side, by the occasional visits of Camp

N2

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Iin, whom SindaH had introduced to Annesly'a acquaintance. Yet, though this was a charac-r ter on which Annesly could not bestow much of his esteem, it had some good-humoured qualities, which did not fail to entertain and amuse him. But the captain seemed to be less agreeable in that quarter to which he principally pointed his attention, to wit, the opinion of Harriet, to whom he took frequent occasion to make those speeches, which have just enough of folly in them to acquire the name of compliments, and sometimes even ventured to turn them in so particular a manner, as if he wished to have them understood to mean somewhat more.

The situation of the unfortunate Harriet was such as his pleasantry could not divert, and his attachment could only disgust. As she had lost that peace of mind which inward satisfaction alone can bestow, so she felt the calamity doubled, *by that obligation to secrecy she was under, and the difficulty which her present condition (for she was now with child) made such a concealment be attended with. Often had she determined to reveal, either to her father or to Mrs Wistanly, who, of her own sex, was her only friend, the story of her dishonour; but SindaH, by repeated solicitations when in the country, and a constant correspondence when in town, conjured her to be silent, for some little time, till he could smooth the way for bestowing his hand on the only woman whom he had ever sincerely loved. One prin?

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THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 14*9

cipal reason for his postponing their union, had * always been the necessity for endeavouring to gain over the assent of his grandfather by the mother's side, from Whom Sindall had great expectations ; he had, from time to time, suggested this as difficult, and only to be attempted with caution, from the proud and touchy disposition of the old gentleman. He now represented him as in a very declining state

of health; and that, probably, in a very short time, his death would remove this obstacle to the warmest wish of a heart that was ever faithful to his Harriet. The flattering language of his letters could not arrest the progress of that time, which must divulge the shame of her he had undone; but they soothed the tumults of a soul to whom his villainy was yet unknown, and whose affection his appearance of worth, of friendship, and nobleness of mind, had but too much entangled.

However imperfectly he had accounted for delaying a marriage, whicn he always professed his intention to perform, the delusion was kept up in the expectations of Harriet, till that period began to draw near, when it would be impossible any longer to conceal from the world the effects of their intimacy. Then, indeed, her uneasiness was not to be allayed by such excuses as Sindall had before relied on her artless confidence to believe. He wrote her, therefore, an answer to a letter full of the most earnest as well as tender expostulations, informing her, of his having determined to run N3

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150 THE MAN OF TUB WORLD*

'any risk of inconvenience to himself* rather than suffer her to remain longer in a state, such as she had (pathetically indeed) described : That he was to set out in a few days for the country, to make himself indissolubly hers; but that it was absolutely necessary that she should allow him to conduct their marriage in a particular manner, which he would communicate to her on his arrival; and begged, as she valued his peace and her own, that the whole matter might still remain inviolably secret, as she had hitherto kept it.

In a few days after the receipt of this letter, she received a note from Camping importing his desire to have an interview with her on some particular business, which related equally to her and to Sir Thomas Sindall. The time appointed was early in the morning of the succeeding day; and the place, a little walk which the villagers used to frequent in holiday-times, at the back of her father's garden. This

was delivered to her, in a secret manner, by a little boy, an attendant of that gentleman's, who was a frequent guest in Annesly's kitchen, from his talent at playing the flageolet, which he had acquired in the capacity of a drummer to the regiment to which his master belonged.

Mysterious as the contents of this note were, the mind of Harriet easily suggested to her, that Camplin had been, in some respect at least, let into the confidence of Sir Thomas. She now felt the want of that dignity which innocence bestows; she blushed and trembled, even in the

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presence of this little boy, because ho was Camplin's; and, with a shaking hand, scrawled a note in answer to th& he had brought her, to let his master know that she would meet him at the hour he bad appointed,—She met him accordingly.

He began with making many protestations of his regard, both for Miss Annesly and the baronet, which had induced him, he said, to dedicate himself to the service of both in this affair, though it was a matter of such delicacy as he would not otherwise have chosen to interfere in; and, putting into her band a letter from Sindail, told her, he had taken measures for carrying into execution the purpose it contained.

It informed her that Sir Thomas was in the house of an old domestic at some miles distance, where he waited to be made her's: That he had for this secrecy many reasons, with which lie could not by such a conveyance make her acquainted, but which her own prudence would probably suggest. He concluded with recommending her to the care and protection of Camplin, whose honour he warmly extolled.

She paused a moment on the perusal of this billet:—' Oh! heavens t said she, * to what have I reduced myself! Mr Camplin, what am I to do ? Whither are you to carry me ? Pardon my confusion—I scarce know what I say to you/

' I have a chaise-and-four ready/ answered Camplin, * at the end of the lane, Hvhich in an

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152 THE MAN OF THB WORLD.

hour or two, Madam, will convey you to Sir Thomas Sindall/—' But my father! good Heaven ! to leave my father f—* Consider,' said he, rit is but for a little while. My boy shall carry a note to acquaint him that you are gone on a visit, and will return in the evening/— *

Return! methinks I feel a foreboding that I shall never return.'—He put a j)iece of paper and a pencil into her hand ; the note was writ*

ten, and dispatched by the boy, to whom he beckoned at some distance where he had waited, -^' Now, Madam/ said he, 4 let me conduct you/ ■ Her knees knocked so against each other, that it was with difficulty she could walk, even with the support of his arm. They reached the chaise, a servant, who stood by it, opened the door to admit her; she put her foot on the step, then drew it back again. * Be not afraid, Madam,' said Camplin, * you go to be happy/ She put her foot up again, and stood in that attitude a moment; she cast back a look to the little mansion of her father, whence the smoke was now rotting its volumes in the calm of a beautiful morning. A gush of tenderness swelled her heart at the sight—She burst into tears—But the crisis of her fate was come—and she entered the carriage, which drove off at a furious rate, Camplin commanding the postilion to make as much speed $&

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TBK MAN OF THE WORLD. 153

CHAP. XXVII.

THP EFFECTS WHICH THE EVENT CONTAINED IN THE

PRECEDING CHAPTER HAD ON MR ANNESLY.

J. he receipt of that note which Harriet was persuaded by Camplin to write to her father, (intimating, that she was gone upon a visit to a family in the neighbourhood, and not to return till the evening), though her time of going abroad was somewhat unusual, did not create any surprise in the mind of Annesly; but it happened that Mrs Wistanly, who called in tho afternoon to inquire after her young friend, had just left the very house where her message imported her visit to be made* This set her father on conjecturing, yet without much anxiety, and with no suspicion; but his fears were redoubled when, having sat up.till a very late hour, no tidings arrived of his daughter. He went to bed, however, though it could not afford him sleep; at every bark of the village* dogp his heart bounded with the hopes of her return; but the morning arose, and did not restore him his Harriet.

His uueasiness had been observed by his servants, to whom he was too indulgent a master to have his interests considered by them with

)ess warmth than their own. Abraham, therefore, who was coeval with his master, and had served him ever since he was married, had y Google

154 *HB MAN OF THE WORLD.

sallied forth by day-break on search of intelligence. He was met accidentally by a huntsman of Sir Thomas SindalFs, who informed him, that as he crossed the lane at the back' of the village the morning before, he saw Miss Annesly leaning on Captain Camplin's arm, and walking with him towards a chaise and fdur, which stood at the end of it. Abraham's cheeks grew pale at this intelligence, because he had a sort of instinctive terror for Camplin, who was in use to make his awkward simplicity a fund for many jests and tricks of mischief, during his visits to Annesly. He hastened home to communicate this discovery to his master, which he did with a faultering tongue, and many ejaculations of fear and surprise.

Annesly received it with less emotion, though hot without an increase of uneasiness. * Yonder/ said Abraham, looking thro ugh the window,

' is the captain's little boy;' and he ran out of the room to bring him to