The Sylph Part 3

You have heard me say I was married before I had the happiness of being united to _your_ amiable mother. I shall begin my narrative from the commencement of that union; only premising, that I was the son of the younger branch of a n.o.ble family, whose name I bear. I inherited the blood, but very little more, of my ancestors. However, a taste for pleasure, and an indulgence of some of the then fas.h.i.+onable follies, which in all ages and all times are too prevalent, conspired to make my little fortune still more contracted. Thus situated, I became acquainted with a young lady of large fortune. My figure and address won her heart; her person was agreeable and although I might not be what the world calls in love, I certainly was attached to her. Knowing the inferiority of my fortune, I could not presume to offer her my hand, even after I was convinced she wished I should; but some circ.u.mstances arising, which brought us more intimately acquainted, at length conquered my scruples; and, without consulting any other guide than our pa.s.sions, we married.

My finances were now extremely straitened; for although my wife was heiress of upwards of thirty thousand pounds, yet, till she came of age, I could reap no advantage of it; and to that period she wanted near four years. We were both fond of pleasure, and foolishly lived as if we were in actual possession of double that income. I found myself deeply involved; but the time drew near that was to set all to rights; and I had prevailed on my wife to consent to a retrenchment. We had formed a plan of retiring for some time in the country, to look after her estate; and, by way of taking a polite leave of our friends (or rather acquaintance; for, when they were put to the test, I found them undeserving of that appellation); by way, I say, of quitting the town with _eclat_, my wife proposed giving an elegant entertainment on her birth-day, which was on the twenty-fourth of December. Christmas-day fell that year upon a Monday: unwilling to protract this day of joy till the Tuesday, my wife desired to antic.i.p.ate her natal festival, and accordingly Sat.u.r.day was appointed. She had set her heart on dancing in the evening, and was extremely mortified on finding an extreme pain in her ancle, which she attributed to a strain. It was so violent during dinner-time, that she was constrained to leave the table. A lady, who retired with her, told her, the surest remedy for a strain, was to plunge the leg in cold water, and would procure instant relief.

Impatient of the disappointment and anguish, she too fatally consented.

I knew nothing of what was doing in my wife's dressing-room, till my attention was roused by repeated cries. Terribly alarmed--I flew thither, and found her in the agonies of death. Good G.o.d! what was my distraction at that moment! I then recollected what she had often told me, of all her family being subject to the gout at a very early age.

Every medical a.s.sistance was procured--with all speed. The physician, however, gave but small hopes, unless the disorder could be removed from her head and stomach, which it had attacked with the greatest violence.

How was all our mirth in one sad moment overthrown! The day, which had risen with smiles, now promised to set in tears. In the few lucid intervals which my unhappy wife could be said to have, she instantly prayed to live till she could secure her fortune to my life; which could be done no other way than making her will; since, having had no children, the estate, should she die before she came of age--or even then, without a bequest--would devolve upon a cousin, with whose family we had preserved no intimacy, owing to the illiberal reflections part of them had cast on my wife, for marrying a man without an answerable fortune. My being allied to a n.o.ble family was no recommendation to those who had acquired their wealth by trade, and were possessed of the most sordid principles. I would not listen to the persuasion of my friends, who urged me to get writings executed, to which my wife might set her hand: such measures appeared to me both selfish and cruel; or, rather, my mind was too much absorbed in my present affliction, to pay any attention to my future security.

In her greatest agonies and most severe paroxysms, she knew and acknowledged her obligations to me, for the unremitted kindness I had shewn her during our union. "Oh! my G.o.d!" she would exclaim, "Oh! my G.o.d! let me but live to reward him! I ask not length of years--though in the bloom of life, I submit with chearful resignation to thy will. My G.o.d! I ask not length of days; I only pet.i.tion for a few short hours of sense and recollection, that I may, by the disposition of my affairs, remove all other distress from the bosom of my beloved husband, save what he will feel on this separation."

Dear soul! she prayed in vain. Nay, I doubt her apprehension and terrors, lest she should die, encreased the agonies of her body and mind.

Unknown to me, a gentleman, by the request of my dying wife, drew up a deed; the paper lay on the bed: she meant to sign it as soon as the clock struck twelve. Till within a few minutes of that time, she continued tolerably calm, and her head perfectly clear; she flattered herself, and endeavoured to convince us, she would recover--but, alas!

this was only a little gleam of hope, to sink us deeper in despair. Her pain returned with redoubled violence from this short recess; and her senses never again resumed their seat. She suffered the most excruciating agonies till two in the morning--then winged her flight to heaven--leaving me the most forlorn and disconsolate of men.

I continued in a state of stupefaction for several days, till my friends rouzed me, by asking what course I meant to pursue. I had the whole world before me, and saw myself, as it were, totally detached from any part of it. My own relations I had disobliged, by marrying the daughter of a tradesman. They were, no doubt, glad of an excuse, to rid themselves of an indigent person, who might reflect dishonour on their n.o.bility--of them I had no hopes. I had as little probability of success in my application to the friends of my late wife; yet I thought, in justice, they should not refuse to make me some allowances for the expenses our manner of living had brought on me--as they well knew they were occasioned by my compliance with her taste--at least so far as to discharge some of my debts.

I waited on Mr. Maynard, the father of the lady who now possessed the estate, to lay before him the situation of my affairs. He would hardly hear me out with patience. He upbraided me with stealing an heiress; and with meanly taking every method of obliging a dying woman to injure her relations. In short, his behaviour was rude, unmanly, and indecent. I scorned to hold converse with so sordid a wretch, and was leaving his house with the utmost displeasure, when his daughter slipped out of the room. She begged me, with many tears, not to impute "her father's incivility to her--wished the time was come when she should be her own mistress; but hoped she should be able to bring her father to some terms of accommodation; and a.s.sured me, she would use all her influence with him to induce him to do me justice."

Her influence over the mind of such a man as her father had like to have little weight--as it proved. She used all her eloquence in my favour, which only served to instigate him against me. He sent a very rude and abrupt message to me, to deliver up several articles of household furniture, and other things, which had belonged to my wife; which, however, I refused to do, unless I was honoured with the order of Miss Maynard. Her father could not prevail on her to make the requisition; and, enraged at my insolence, and her obstinacy, as he politely styled our behaviour, he swore he would be revenged. In order to make his words good, he went severally to each of the trades-people to whom I was indebted, and, collecting the sums, prevailed on them to make over the debts to him; thereby becoming the sole creditor; and how merciful I should find him, I leave you to judge, from the motive by which he acted.

In a few days there was an execution in my house, and I was conveyed to the King's-Bench. At first I took the resolution of continuing there contentedly, till either my cruel creditor should relent, or that an act of grace should take place. A prison, however, is dreadful to a free mind; and I solicited those, who had, in the days of my prosperity, professed a friends.h.i.+p for me: some few afforded me a temporary relief, but dealt with a scanty hand; others disclaimed me--none would bail me, or undertake my cause: many, who had contributed to my extravagance, now condemned me for launching into expences beyond my income; and those, who refused their a.s.sistance, thought they had a right to censure my conduct. Thus did I find myself deserted and neglected by the whole world; and was early taught, how little dependence we ought to place on the goods of it.

When I had been an inmate of the house of bondage some few weeks, I received a note from Miss Maynard. She deplored, in the most pathetic terms, "the steps her father had taken, which she had never discovered till that morning; and intreated my acceptance of a trifle, to render my confinement less intolerable; and if I could devise any methods, wherein she could be serviceable, she should think herself most happy." There was such a delicacy and n.o.bleness of soul ran through the whole of this little _billet_, as, at the same time that it shewed the writer in the most amiable light, gave birth to the liveliest grat.i.tude in my bosom. I had, till this moment, considered her only as the daughter of Mr.

Maynard; as one, whose mind was informed by the same principles as his own. I now beheld her in another view; I looked on her only in her relation to my late wife, whose virtues she inherited with her fortune.

I felt a veneration for the generosity of a young girl, who, from the narrow sentiments of her father, could not be mistress of any large sum; and yet she had, in the politest manner (making it a favour done to herself), obliged me to accept of a twenty-pound-note. I had a thousand conflicts with myself, whether I should keep or return it; nothing but my fear of giving her pain could have decided it. I recollected the tears she shed the last time I saw her: on reading over her note again, I discovered the paper blistered in several places; to all this, let me add, her image seemed to stand confessed before me. Her person, which I had hardly ever thought about, now was present to my imagination. It lost nothing by never having been the subject of my attention before. I sat ruminating on the picture I had been drawing in my mind, till, becoming perfectly enthusiastic in my ideas, I started up, and, clasping my hands together,--"Why," exclaimed I aloud, "why have I not twenty thousand pounds to bestow on this adorable creature!" The sound of my voice brought me to myself, and I instantly recollected I ought to make some acknowledgment to my fair benefactress. I found the task a difficult one. After writing and rejecting several, I at last was resolved to send the first I had attempted, knowing that, though less studied, it certainly was the genuine effusions of my heart. After saying all my grat.i.tude dictated, I told her, "that, next to her society, I should prize her correspondence above every thing in this world; but that I begged she would not let compa.s.sion for an unfortunate man lead her into any inconveniencies, but be guided entirely by her own discretion. I would, in the mean time, intreat her to send me a few books--the subject I left to her, they being her taste would be their strongest recommendation." Perhaps I said more than I ought to have done, although at that time I thought I fell infinitely short of what I might have said; and yet, I take G.o.d to witness, I did not mean to engage her affection; and no thing was less from my intention than basely to practice on her pa.s.sions.

In one of her letters, she asked me, if my debts were discharged, what would be my dependence or scheme of life: I freely answered, my dependence would be either to get a small place, or else serve my king in the war now nearly breaking out, which rather suited the activity of my disposition. She has since told me, she shed floods of tears over that expression--_the activity of my disposition_; she drew in her imagination the most affecting picture of a man, in the bloom and vigour of life, excluded from the common benefits of his fellow-creatures, by the merciless rapacity of an inhuman creditor. The effect this melancholy representation had on her mind, while pity endeared the object of it to her, made her take the resolution of again addressing her father in my behalf. He accused her of ingrat.i.tude, in thus repaying his care for her welfare. Hurt by the many harsh things he said, she told him, "the possession of ten times the estate could convey no pleasure to her bosom, while it was tortured with the idea, that he, who had the best right to it, was secluded from every comfort of life; and that, whenever it should be in her power, she would not fail to make every reparation she could, for the violence offered to an innocent, injured, man." This brought down her father's heaviest displeasure. He reviled her in the grossest terms; a.s.serted, "she had been fascinated by me, as her ridiculous cousin had been before; but that he would take care his family should not run the risk of being again beggared by such a spendthrift; and that he should use such precautions, as to frustrate any scheme I might form of seducing her from her duty." She sought to exculpate me from the charges her father had brought against me; but he paid no regard to her a.s.severations, and remained deaf and inexorable to all her intreaties. When I learnt this, I wrote to Miss Maynard, intreating her, for her own sake, to resign an unhappy man to his evil destiny. I begged her to believe, I had sufficient resolution to support confinement, or any other ill; but that it was an aggravation to my sufferings (which to sustain was very difficult) to find her zeal for me had drawn on her the ill-usage of her father. I further requested, she would never again mention me to him; and if possible, never think of me if those thoughts were productive of the least disquiet to her. I likewise mentioned my hearing an act of grace would soon release me from my bonds; and then I was determined to offer myself a volunteer in the service, where, perhaps, I might find a cannon-ball my best friend.

A life, so different to what I had been used, brought on a disorder, which the agitation of my spirits increased so much as to reduce me almost to the gates of death. An old female servant of Miss Maynard's paid me a visit, bringing me some little nutritive delicacies, which her kind mistress thought would be serviceable to me. Shocked at the deplorable spectacle I made, for I began to neglect my appearance; which a man is too apt to do when not at peace with himself: shocked, I say, she represented me in such a light to her lady, as filled her gentle soul with the utmost terror for my safety. Guided alone by the partiality she honoured me with, she formed the resolution of coming to see me. She however gave me half an hour's notice of her intention. I employed the intermediate time in putting myself into a condition of receiving her with more decency. The little exertion I made had nearly exhausted my remaining strength, and I was more dead than alive, when the trembling, pale, and tottering guest made her approach in the house of woe. We could neither of us speak for some time. The benevolence of her heart had supported her during her journey thither; but now the native modesty of her s.e.x seemed to point out the impropriety of visiting a man, unsolicited, in prison. Weak as I was, I saw the necessity of encouraging the drooping spirits of my fair visitor. I paid her my grateful acknowledgments for her inestimable goodness. She begged me to be silent on that head, as it brought reflections she could ill support. In obedience to her, I gave the conversation another turn; but still I could not help reverting to the old subject. She then stopped me, by asking, "what was there so extraordinary in her conduct?

and whether, in her situation, would not I have done as much for her?"

"Oh! yes!" I cried, with eagerness, "that I should, and ten times more."

I instantly felt the impropriety of my speech. "Then I have been strangely deficient," said she, looking at me with a gentle smile. "I ask a thousand pardons," said I, "for the abruptness of my expression. I meant to evince my value for you, and my sense of what I thought you deserved. You must excuse my method, I have been long unused to the a.s.sociation of human beings, at least such as resemble you. You have already conferred more favours than I could merit at your hands." Miss Maynard seemed disconcerted--she looked grave. "It is a sign you think so," said she, in a tone of voice that shewed she was piqued, "as you have taken such pains to explain away an involuntary compliment.--But I have already exceeded the bounds I prescribed to myself in this visit--it is time to leave you."

I felt abashed, and found myself incapable of saying any thing to clear myself from the imputation of insensibility or ingrat.i.tude, without betraying the tenderness which I really possessed for her, yet which I thought, circ.u.mstanced as I was, would be ungenerous to the last degree to discover, as it would be tacitly laying claim to her's. The common rules of politeness, however, called on me to say something.--I respectfully took her hand, which trembled as much as mine. "Dear Miss Maynard," said I, "how shall I thank you for the pleasure your company has conveyed to my bosom?" Even then thinking I had said too much, especially as I by an involuntary impulse found my fingers compress her's, I added, "I plainly see the impropriety of asking you to renew your goodness--I must not be selfish, or urge you to take any step for which you may hereafter condemn yourself."

"I find, Sir," she replied, "your prudence is greater than mine. I need never apprehend danger from such a monitor."

"Don't mistake me," said I, with a sigh I could not repress. "I doubt I have," returned she, "but I will endeavour to develop your character.

Perhaps, if I do not find myself quite perfect, I may run the risk of taking another lesson, unless you should tell me it is imprudent." So saying, she left me. There was rather an affectation of gaiety in her last speech, which would have offended me, had I not seen it was only put on to conceal her real feelings from a man, who seemed coldly insensible of her invaluable perfections both of mind and body.--Yet how was I to act? I loved her with the utmost purity, and yet fervour. My heart chid me for throwing cold water on the tenderness of this amiable girl;--but my reason told me, I should be a villain to strive to gain her affections in such a situation as I was. Had I been lord of the universe, I would have shared it with my Maria. You will ask, how I could so easily forget the lowness of my fortune in my connexion with her cousin? I answer, the case was widely different--I then made a figure in life equal to my birth, though my circ.u.mstances were contracted.--Now, I was poor and in prison:--then, I listened only to my pa.s.sions--now, reason and prudence had some sway with me. My love for my late wife was the love of a boy;--my attachment to Maria the sentiments of a man, and a man visited by, and a prey to, misfortune. On reflection, I found I loved her to the greatest height. After pa.s.sing a sleepless night of anguish, I came to the resolution of exculpating myself from the charge of insensibility, though at the expence of losing sight of her I loved for ever. I wrote her a letter, wherein, I freely confessed the danger I apprehended from the renewal of her visit.--I opened my whole soul before her, but at the same time told her, "I laid no claim to any more from her than compa.s.sion; shewed her the rack of constraint I put on myself, to conceal the emotions of my heart, lest the generosity of her's might involve her in a too strong partiality for so abject a wretch. I hoped she would do me the justice to believe, that as no man ever loved more, so no one on earth could have her interest more at heart than myself, since to those sentiments I sacrificed every thing dear to me." Good G.o.d! what tears did this letter cost me! I sometimes condemned myself, and thought it false generosity.--Why should I, said I to myself, why should I thus cast happiness away from two, who seem formed to const.i.tute all the world to each other?--How rigorous are thy mandates, O Virtue! how severe thy decree! and oh! how much do I feel in obeying thee! No sooner was the letter gone, than I repented the step I had pursued.--I called myself ungrateful to the bounty of heaven; who thus, as it were, had inspired the most lovely of women with an inclination to relieve my distress; and had likewise put the means in her hands.--These cogitations contributed neither to establish my health, or compose my spirits. I had no return to my letter; indeed I had not urged one. Several days I pa.s.sed in a state of mind which can be only known to those who have experienced the same. At last a pacquet was brought me. It contained an ensign's commission in a regiment going to Germany; and a paper sealed up, on which was written, "It is the request of M.M. that Mr. Grenville does not open _this_ till he has crossed the seas."

There was another paper folded in the form of a letter, but not sealed; _that_ I hastily opened, and found it contained only a few words, and a bank bill of an hundred pounds. The contents were as follow:

"True love knows not the nice distinctions you have made,--at least, if I may be allowed to judge from my own feelings, I think it does not. I may, however, be mistaken, but the error is too pleasing to be relinquished; and I would much rather indulge it, than listen at present to the cold prudential arguments which a too refined and ill-placed generosity points out. When you arrive at the place of your destination, you may gain a farther knowledge of a heart, capable at the same time of the tenderest partiality, and a firm resolution of conquering it."

Every word of this billet was a dagger to my soul. I then ceased not to accuse myself of ingrat.i.tude to the loveliest of women, as guilty of false pride instead of generosity. If she placed her happiness in my society, why should I deprive her of it? As she said my sentiments were too refined, I asked myself, if it would not have been my supreme delight to have raised her from the dregs of the people to share the most exalted situation with me? Why should I then think less highly of her attachment, of which I had received such proofs, than I was convinced mine was capable of? For the future, I was determined to sacrifice these nice punctilios, which were ever opposing my felicity, and that of an amiable woman, who clearly and repeatedly told me, by her looks, actions, and a thousand little nameless attentions I could not mistake, that her whole happiness depended on me. I thought nothing could convince her more thoroughly of my wish of being obliged to her, than the acceptance of her bounty: I made no longer any hesitation about it. That very day I was released from my long confinement by the grace-act, to the utter mortification of my old prosecutor. I drove immediately to some lodgings I had provided in the Strand; from whence I instantly dispatched a billet-doux to Maria, in which I said these words:

"The first moment of liberty I devote to the lovely Maria, who has my heart a slave. I am a convert to your a.s.sertion, that love makes not distinctions. Otherwise, could I support the reflection, that all I am worth in the world I owe to you? But to you the world owes all the charms it has in my eyes. We will not, however, talk of debtor and creditor, but permit me to make up in adoration what I want in wealth.

Fortune attends the brave.--I will therefore flatter myself with returning loaden with the spoils of the enemy, and in such a situation, that you may openly indulge the partiality which makes the happiness of my life, without being put to the blush by sordid relations.

I shall obey your mandates the more chearfully, as I think I am perfectly acquainted with every perfection of your heart; judge then how I must value it. Before I quit England, I shall pet.i.tion for the honour of kissing your hand;--but how shall I bid you adieu!"

The time now drew nigh when I was to take leave of my native land--and what was dearer to me, my Maria.--I was too affected to utter a word;--her soul had more heroic greatness.--"Go," said she, "pursue the paths of glory; have confidence in Providence, and never distrust me. I have already experienced some hazards on your account; but perhaps my father may be easier in his mind, when he is a.s.sured you have left England."

I pressed her to explain herself. She did so, by informing me, "her father suspected her attachment, and, to prevent any ill consequence arising, had proposed a gentleman to her for a husband, whom she had rejected with firmness. No artifice, or ill usage," continued she, "shall make any change in my resolution;--but I shall say no more, the pacquet will more thoroughly convince you of what I am capable."

"Good G.o.d!" said I, in an agony, "why should your tenderness be incompatible with your duty?"

"I do not think it," she answered;--"it is my duty to do justice; and I do no more, by seeking to restore to you your own."

We settled the mode of our future correspondence; and I tore myself from the only one I loved on earth. When I joined the regiment, I availed myself of the privilege given me to inspect the papers. Oh! how was my love, esteem, and admiration, increased! The contents were written at a time, when she thought me insensible, or at least too scrupulous. She made a solemn vow never to marry; but as soon as she came of age, to divide the estate with me, making over the remainder to any children I might have; but the whole was couched in terms of such delicate tenderness, as drew floods of tears from my eyes, and riveted my soul more firmly to her. I instantly wrote to her, and concealed not a thought or sentiment of my heart--_that_ alone dictated every line. In the letter she returned, she sent me her picture in a locket, and on the reverse a device with her hair; this was an inestimable present to me.--It was my sole employ, while off duty, to gaze on the lovely resemblance of the fairest of women.

For some months our correspondence was uninterrupted.--However, six weeks had now pa.s.sed since I expected a letter.

Love is industrious in tormenting itself. I formed ten thousand dreadful images in my own mind, and sunk into despair from each. I wrote letter after letter, but had still no return. I had no other correspondent in England.--Distraction seized me. "She's dead!" cried I to myself, "she's dead! I have nothing to do but to follow her." At last I wrote to a gentleman who lived in the neighbourhood of Mr. Maynard, conjuring him, in the most affecting terms, to inform me of what I yet dreaded to be told.--I waited with a dying impatience till the mails arrived.--A letter was brought me from this gentleman.--He said, Mr. Maynard's family had left L. some time;--they proposed going abroad; but he believed they had retired to some part of Ess.e.x;--there had a report prevailed of Miss Maynard's being married; but if true, it was since they had left L. This news was not very likely to clear or calm my doubts. What could I think?--My reflections only served to awaken my grief. I continued two years making every inquiry, but never received the least satisfactory account.

A prey to the most heartfelt affliction, life became insupportable to me.--Was she married, I revolved in my mind all the hards.h.i.+ps she must have endured before she would be prevailed on to falsify her vows to me, which were registered in heaven.--Had death ended her distress, I was convinced it had been hastened by the severity of an unnatural father.--Whichsoever way I turned my thoughts, the most excruciating reflections presented themselves, and in each I saw her sufferings alone.

In this frame of mind, I rejoiced to hear we were soon to have a battle, which would in all probability be decisive. I was now raised to the rank of captain-lieutenant. A battalion of our regiment was appointed to a most dangerous post. It was to gain a pa.s.s through a narrow defile, and to convey some of our heavy artillery to cover a party of soldiers, who were the flower of the troops, to endeavour to flank the enemy. I was mortified to find I was not named for this service. I spoke of it to the captain, who honoured me with his friends.h.i.+p.--"It was my care for you, Grenville," said he, "which prevented your name being inrolled. I wish, for the sakes of so many brave fellows, this manoeuvre could have been avoided. It will be next to a miracle if we succeed; but success must be won with the lives of many; the first squadron must look on themselves as a sacrifice." "Permit me then," said I, "to head that squadron; I will do my duty to support my charge; but if I fall, I shall bless the blow which rids me of an existence intolerable to me."

"You are a young man, Grenville," replied the captain, "you may experience a change in life, which will repay you for the adversities you at present complain of. I would have you courageous, and defy dangers, but not madly rush on them; that is to be despairing, not brave; and consequently displeasing to the Deity, who appoints us our task, and rewards us according to our acquittal of our duty. The severest winter is followed oftentimes by the most blooming spring:" "It is true," said I:

"But when will spring visit the mouldering urn?

Ah! when will it dawn on the gloom of the grave?"

"Will you, however, allow me to offer an exchange with the commanding officer?" My captain consented; and the lieutenant was very glad to exchange his post, for one of equal honour, but greater security. I was sitting in my tent the evening of the important day, ruminating on the past events of my life; and then naturally fell into reflections of what, in all probability, would be the consequence of the morrow's attack. We looked on ourselves as devoted men; and though, I dare say, not one in the whole corps was tired of his life, yet they all expressed the utmost eagerness to be employed. Death was the ultimate wish of my soul. "I shall, before to-morrow's sun goes down," said I, addressing myself to the resemblance of my Maria; "I shall, most lovely of women, be re-united to thee; or, if yet thy sufferings have not ended thy precious life, I shall yet know where thou art, and be permitted, perhaps, to hover over thee, to guide thy footsteps, and conduct thee to those realms of light, whose joys will be incomplete without thee." With these rhapsodies I was amusing my mind, when a serjeant entered, and acquainted me, there was, without, a young man enquiring for me, who said, he must be admitted, having letters of the greatest importance from England. My heart beat high against my breast, my respiration grew thick and difficult, and I could hardly articulate these words,--"For G.o.d's sake, let me see him! Support me, Oh, G.o.d! what is it I am going to hear?"

A cold sweat bedewed my face, and an universal tremor possessed my whole frame.

A young gentleman, wrapped up in a Hussar cloak, made his appearance.

"Is this Lieutenant Grenville?" I bowed. "I am told, Sir," said I, in a tremulous voice, "you have letters from England; relieve my doubts I beseech you."--"Here, Sir, is one," said the youth, extending his hand, which trembled exceedingly.--I hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed it, ready to devour the contents;--what was my agitation, when I read these words!

"If, after a silence of two long years, your Maria is still dear to you, you will rejoice to hear she still lives for you alone. If her presence is wished for by you, you will rejoice on finding her at no great distance from you. But, if you love with the tenderness she does, how great, how extatic, will be your felicity, to raise your eyes, and fix them on her's!"

The paper dropped from my enervate hand, while I raised my eyes, and beheld, Oh! my G.o.d! under the disguise of a young officer, my beloved, my faithful, long-lost Maria!

"Great G.o.d!" cried I, in a transport of joy, clasping my hands together, "have then my prayers been heard! do I again behold her!" But my situation recurring to my imagination; the dangers which I had unnecessarily engaged myself in for the morrow; her disguise; the unprotected state in which I should leave her, in a camp, where too much licentiousness reigned; all these ideas took instant possession of my mind, and damped the rising joy her loved presence had at first excited.

The agonizing pangs which seized me are past description. "Oh! my G.o.d!"

I exclaimed in the bitterness of soul, "why did we thus meet!

Better,--Oh! how much better would it have been, that my eyes had closed in death, than, to see all they adored thus exposed to the horrid misery and carnage of destructive war." The conflict became too powerful; and in all the energy of woe I threw myself on the ground. Poor Maria flung herself on a seat, and covered her face in her great coat.--Audible sobs burst from her bosom--I saw the convulsive heavings, and the sight was as daggers to me.--I crawled on my knees to her, and, bending over her,--"Oh! my Maria!" said I, "these pangs I feel for you; speak to me, my only love; if possible, ease my sufferings by thy heavenly welcome voice."--She uttered not a word; I sought to find her hand; she pushed me gently from her, then rising,--"Come, thou companion of my tedious and painful travel, come, my faithful Hannah," said she, to one I had not before taken notice of, who stood in the entrance of the tent, "let us be gone, here we are unwelcome visitors. Is it thus," continued she, lifting up her hands to heaven, "is it thus I am received? Adieu!

Grenville! My love has still pursued you with unremitting constancy: but it shall be your torment no longer. I will no longer tax your compa.s.sion for a fond wretch, who perhaps deserves the scorn she meets." She was leaving the tent. I was immoveably rooted to the ground while she spake.--I caught her by the coat. "Oh! leave me not, dearest of women, leave me not! You know not the love and distress which tear this wretched bosom by turns. Injure me not, by doubting the first,--and if you knew the latter, you would find me an object int.i.tled to your utmost pity. Oh! that my heart was laid open to your view! then would you see it had wasted with anguish on the supposition of your death. Yes, Maria, I thought you dead. I had a too exalted idea of your worth to a.s.sign any other cause; I never called you cruel, or doubted your faith. Your memory lived in my fond breast, such as my tenderness painted you. But you can think meanly of me, and put the most ungenerous construction on the severest affliction that ever tore the heart of man."

"Oh! my Grenville," said she, raising me, "how have I been ungenerous?

Is the renunciation of my country, relations, and even s.e.x, a proof of want of generosity? Will you never know, or, knowing, understand me? I believe you have suffered, greatly suffered; your pallid countenance too plainly evinces it; but we shall now, with the blessing of heaven, soon see an end to them.--A few months will make me mistress of my fortune.

In the mean time, I will live with my faithful Hannah retired; only now and then let me have the consolation of seeing you, and hearing from your lips a confirmation that I have not forfeited your affection."

I said all that my heart dictated, to rea.s.sure my lovely heroic Maria, and calm her griefs. I made her take some refreshment; and, as the night was now far spent, and we yet had much to say, we agreed to pa.s.s it in the tent. My dear Maria began to make me a little detail of all that had pa.s.sed. She painted out the persecutions of her father in the liveliest colours; the many artifices he used to weaken her attachment to me; the feigning me inconstant; and, when he found her opinion of my faith too firmly rooted, he procured a certificate of my death. As she was then released from her engagement, he more strongly urged her to marry; but she as resolutely refused. On his being one day more than commonly urgent, she knelt down, and said, in the most solemn manner; "Thou knowest, O G.o.d! had it pleased thee to have continued him I doated on in this life, that I was bound, by the most powerful a.s.severations, to be his, and only his:--hear me now, O G.o.d! while I swear still to be wedded to his memory. In thy eye, I was his wife; I attest thee to witness, that I will never be any other. In his grave shall all my tenderness be buried, and with him shall it rise to heaven." Her father became outrageous; and swore, if she would not give him a son, he would give her a mother; and, in consequence married the housekeeper--a woman sordid as himself, and whose principles and sentiments were as low as her birth.

The faithful Hannah had been discharged some time before, on finding out she aided our correspondence. My letters had been for a long time intercepted. Maria, one day, without the least notice, was taken out of her chamber, and conveyed to a small house in the hundreds of Ess.e.x, to some relations of her new mother's, in hopes, as she found, that grief, and the unhealthiness of the place, might make an end of her before she came of age. After a series of ill-usage and misfortunes, she at length was so fortunate as to make her escape. She wrote to Hannah, who came instantly to her; from her she learnt I was still living. She then formed the resolution of coming over to Germany, dreading again falling into the hands of her cruel parent. The plan was soon fixed on, and put in execution. To avoid the dangers of travelling, they agreed to put on men's cloaths; and Maria, to ensure her safety, dressed herself like an English officer charged with dispatches to the British army.

While she was proceeding in her narrative, I heard the drum beat to arms. I started, and turned pale. Maria hastily demanded the cause of this alteration! I informed her, "We were going to prepare for battle.