Kitabı oku: «The Heroine», sayfa 10

LETTER XXI

O Biddy, I have ascertained my genealogy. I am – but I must not anticipate. Take the particulars.

Having secured a comfortable bed at Jerry's, and eaten something (for I had fasted all day), I went with him in a coach to the Pantheon, where he promised to remain, and escort me back.

But I must first describe my Tuscan dress. It was a short petticoat of pale green, with a bodice of white silk; the sleeves loose, and tied up at the shoulders with ribbons and bunches of flowers. My hair, which fell in ringlets on my neck, was also ornamented with flowers and a straw hat. I wore no mask, heroines so seldom do.

Palpitating with expectation, I entered the assembly. Such a multitude of grotesque groups as presented themselves! Clowns, harlequins, nuns, devils; all talking and none listening. The clowns happy to be called fools, the harlequins as awkward as clowns, the nuns impudent, and the devils well-conducted. But as there is a description of a masquerade in almost every novel, you will excuse me from entering into farther particulars.

Too much agitated to support my character with spirit, I retired to a recess, and there anxiously awaited the arrival of the ancient vassal.

Hardly had I been seated five minutes, when an infirm and reverend old man approached, and sat down beside me. His feeble form was propt upon a long staff, a palsy shook his white locks, and his garments had all the quaintness of antiquity.

During some minutes, he gazed on me with earnestness, through a black mask; at length, heaving a heavy sigh, he thus broke forth in tremulous accents:

'Well-a-day! how the scalding tears do run adown my furrowed cheeks; for well I wis, thou beest herself – the Lady Cherubina De Willoughby, the long-lost daughter of mine honoured mistress!'

'Speak, I beseech you!' cried I. 'Are you, indeed, the ancient and loyal vassal?'

'Now by my truly, 'tis even so,' said he.

I could have hugged the dear old man to my heart.

'Welcome, thrice welcome, much respected menial!' cried I, grasping his hand. 'But keep me not in suspense. Unfold to me the heart-harrowing mysteries of my unhappy house!'

'Now by my fay,' said he, 'I will say forth my say. My name is Whylome Eftsoones, and I was accounted comely when a younker. But what boots that now? Beauty is like unto a flower of the field. – Good my lady, pardon a garrulous old man. So as I was saying, the damozels were once wont to leer at me right waggishly; but time changeth all things, as the proverb saith; and time hath changed my face, from that of a blithesome Ganymede to one of those heads which Guido has often painted; mild, pale, penetrating. Good my lady, I must tell thee a right pleasant and quaint saying of a certain nun, touching my face.'

'For pity's sake,' cried I, 'and as you value the preservation of my senses, continue your story without these digressions.'

'Certes, my lady,' said he. 'Well, I was first taken, as a bonny page, into the service of thy great great grandfader's fader's brother; and I was in at the death of these four generations, till at last, I became seneschal to thine honoured fader, Lord De Willoughby. His lordship married the Lady Hysterica Belamour, and thou wast the sole offspring of that ill-fated union.

'Soon after thy birth, thy noble father died of an apparition; or, as some will have it, of stewed lampreys. Returning, impierced with mickle dolour, from his funeral, which took place at midnight, I was stopped on a common, by a tall figure, with a mirksome cloak, and a flapped hat. I shook grievously, ne in that ghastly dreriment wist how myself to bear.'

'I do not comprehend your expressions,' interrupted I.

'I mean,' said he, 'I was in such a fright I did not know what to do. Anon, he threw aside his disguise, and I beheld – Lord Gwyn!'

'Lord Gwyn!' cried I.

'Yea,' said he. 'Lord Gwyn, who was ywedded unto Lord De Willoughby's sister, the Lady Eleanor.'

'Then Lady Eleanor Gwyn is my aunt!' cried I.

'Thou sayest truly,' replied he. '"My good Eftsoones," whispered Lord Gwyn to me, "know you not that my wife, Lady Eleanor Gwyn, will enjoy all the extensive estates of her brother, Lord De Willoughby, if that brother's infant, the little Cherubina, were no more?"

'"I trow, ween, and wote, 'tis as your lordship saith," answered I.

'His lordship then put into mine hand a stiletto.

'"Eftsoones," said he, with a hollow voice, "if this dagger be planted in a child's heart, it will grow, and bear a golden flower!"

'He spake, and incontinently took to striding away from me, in such wise, that maulgre and albe, I gan make effort after him, nathlesse and algates did child Gwyn forthwith flee from mine eyne.'

'I protest most solemnly,' said I, 'I do not understand five words in the whole of that last sentence!'

'And yet, my lady,' replied he, ''tis the pure well of English undefiled, and such as was yspoken in mine youth.'

'But what can you mean by child Gwyn?' said I. 'Surely his lordship was no suckling at this time.'

'Child,' said Eftsoones, 'signified a noble youth, some centuries ago; and it is coming into fashion again. For instance, there is Childe Harold.'

'Then,' said I, 'there is "second childishness;" and I fancy there will be "mere oblivion" too. But if possible, finish your tale in the corrupt tongue.'

'I will endeavour,' said he. 'Tempted by this implied promise of a reward, I took an opportunity of conveying you away from your mother, and of secreting you at the house of a peasant, whom I bribed to bring you up as his own daughter. I told Lord Gwyn that I had dispatched you, and he gave me three and fourpence halfpenny for my trouble.

'When the dear lady, your mother, missed you, she went through the most elegant extravagancies; till, having plucked the last hair from her head, she ran wild into the woods, and has never been heard of since.'

'Dear sainted sufferer!' exclaimed I.

'A few days ago,' continued Eftsoones, 'a messenger out of breath came to tell me, that the peasant to whom I had consigned you was dying, and wished to see me. I went. Such a scene! He confessed to me that he had sold you, body and bones, as he inelegantly expressed it, to one farmer Wilkinson, about thirteen years before; for that this farmer, having discovered your illustrious birth, speculated on a handsome consideration from Lord Gwyn, for keeping the secret. Now I am told there is a certain parchment – '

'Which I have!' cried I.

'And a certain portrait of Nell Gwyn – '

'Which I have!'

'And a mole just above your left temple – '

'Which I have!' exclaimed I, in an ecstasy.

'Then your title is made out, as clear as the sun,' said he; 'and I bow, in contrition, before Lady Cherubina de Willoughby, rightful heiress of all the territory now appertaining, or that may hereinafter appertain, to the House of De Willoughby.'

'Oh, dear, how delightful!' cried I. 'But my good friend, how am I to set about proving my title?'

'Nothing easier,' answered he. 'Lady Gwyn (for his lordship is dead) resides at this moment on your estate, which lies about thirty miles from Town; so to-morrow morning you shall set off to see her ladyship, and make your claims known to her. I will send a trusty servant with you, and will myself proceed before you, to prepare her for your arrival. You will therefore find me there.'

While we were in the act of arranging affairs more accurately, who should make his appearance, but Stuart in a domino!

The moment he addressed me, old Eftsoones slunk away; nor could I catch another glimpse of him during that night.

Stuart told me that he had come to the masquerade, on the chance of finding me there, as I seemed so determined on going, the last time he was with me. He likewise explained the mystery of the darkened chamber, and the false alarm of fire.

It appears, that as soon as he had discovered the views of Betterton, he hired a lodging at the opposite side of the street, and had two police officers there, for the purpose of watching Betterton's movements, and frustrating his attempts. He knocked several times in the course of yesterday, but was always answered that I had walked out. Knowing that I had not, he began to suspect foul play, and determined on gaining admittance to me. He therefore knocked once more, and then rushed into the house crying fire. This manœuvre had the desired effect, for an universal panic took place; and in the midst of it, he saw me issuing forth, and effect my escape. After having pursued me till he lost all traces of my route, he returned to my lodgings, and was informed by the poet, that Betterton had persuaded the landlady to fasten a carpet at the outside of my window, in order to make me remain in bed, till the time for the masquerade should arrive; and thus prevent me from having an interview with Stuart.

We then walked up and down the room, while I gave him an account of the ancient and loyal vassal, and of all that I had heard respecting my family. He was silent on the subject; and only begged of me to point out Eftsoones, as soon as I should see him; but that interesting old man never appeared. However, I was in great hopes of another adventure; for a domino now began hovering about us so much, that Stuart at last addressed it; but it glided away. He said he knew it was Betterton.

In about an hour, I became tired of the scene; for no one took notice of my dress. We therefore bade Jerry, who was in waiting, call a coach; and we proceeded in it to his house.

On our way, I mentioned my determination of setting off to Lady Gwyn's the very next morning, as Eftsoones had promised to meet me there. Stuart, for a wonder, applauded my resolution; and even offered to accompany me himself.

'For,' said he, 'I think I know this old Eftsoones; and if so, I fancy you will find me useful in unravelling part of the mystery. Besides, I would assist, with all my soul, in any plan tending to withdraw you from the metropolis.'

I snatched at his offer with joy; and it was then fixed that we should take a chaise the next morning, and go together.

On our arrival at the lodging, Stuart begged a bed of Jerry, that he might be ready for the journey in time; and the good-natured Irishman, finding him my friend, agreed to make up a pallet for him in the parlour.

Matters were soon arranged, and we have just separated for the night.

Well, Biddy, what say you now? Have I not made a glorious expedition of it? A young, rich, beautiful titled heiress already – think of that, Biddy.

As soon as I can decently turn Lady Gwyn out of doors, I mean to set up a most magnificent establishment. But I will treat the poor woman (who perhaps is innocent of her husband's crime) with extreme delicacy. She shall never want a bed or a plate. By the by, I must purchase silver plate. My livery shall be white and crimson. Biddy, depend upon my patronage. How the parson and music-master will boast of having known me. Then our village will swarm so, to hear tell as how Miss Cherry has grown a great lady. Old mother Muggins, at the bottom of the hill, will make a good week's gossip out of it. However, I mean to condescend excessively, for there is nothing I hate so much as pride.

Yet do not suppose that I am speculating upon an easy life. Though the chief obstacle to my marriage will soon be removed, by the confirmation of my noble birth, still I am not ignorant enough to imagine that no other impediments will interfere. Besides, to confess the fact, I do not feel my mind quite prepared to marry Montmorenci at so short a notice. Hitherto I have thought of him but as a lover, not as a husband – very different characters, in general.

Ah, no, my friend; be well assured, that adversity will not desert me quite so quickly. A present good is often the prognostic of an approaching evil; and when prosperity points its sunshine in our faces, misfortune, like our shadows, is sure to be behind.

Adieu.

LETTER XXII

After having breakfasted, and remunerated our entertainers, Stuart and I set out in a post-chaise, while Jerry ran at our side half way down the street, heaping me with blessings; and bidding me come to him if ever I should be ruined. After we had advanced a few miles into the country, Stuart began to look frequently through the back window, and appeared uneasy. At length he stopped the carriage, and desired the driver to turn round. As soon as the man had done so, another carriage, which, it seems, had followed us from London, passed us, and immediately turned after us.

''Tis as I thought!' cried Stuart, and stopping the chaise again, jumped out of it.

The chaise behind us also stopped; and a gentleman alighted from it and approached. But imagine my surprise, when I found that this gentleman was old Betterton! I could almost have embraced him, his villainous face looked so promising, and so pregnant with mischief.

'Sir,' said he to Stuart, 'as you have perceived me following your carriage, I find myself compelled, however unwillingly, to declare my motives for doing so. Last night I happened to be at the Pantheon, in a domino, and saw you there escorting this lady. I confess I had long before suspected your intentions towards her, and seeing you now together at a masquerade, and without a matron, I did not feel my suspicions lessened. I therefore had you both traced home, and I found, to my great horror, that you stopped at a wretched, and, as I am informed, infamous house in St. Giles's, where you remained during the night. I found too, that a chaise was at the door of it this morning: whence concluding, as I well might, that an elopement was in agitation, I determined, if possible, to prevent so dreadful a catastrophe, by hiring a carriage and pursuing you.

'Sir, you undertook to lecture me, when last I saw you; and plausibly enough you performed your part. It is now my duty to return the obligation. Mr. Stuart, Mr. Stuart, is it not a shame for you, Mr. Stuart? Is this the way to treat the daughter of your friend, Mr. Stuart? Go, silly boy, return to your home; and bless that heaven which hath sent me to the rescue of this fair unfortunate.'

'By all that is comical,' cried Stuart, laughing immoderately, 'this is too ludicrous even to be angry at! Miss Wilkinson, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Whylome Eftsoones, an ancient and loyal vassal of the De Willoughbys; – a mere modern in his principles, I am afraid; but addicted, I wis, to antiquated language.'

Betterton, I thought, looked rather blank, as he said, 'Really, Sir, I do not understand – '

'But really, Sir,' cried Stuart, 'I do understand. I understand, that if you would take less trouble in protecting this lady's honour, you would have a better chance of preserving your own.'

'Sir,' answered Betterton, 'I will have you to know, that I would sacrifice my life in defence of my honour.'

'Well, then,' said Stuart, 'though your life has but little of the saint, it will, at least, have something of the martyr.'

Betterton scowled at him askance, and grinned a thousand devils.

'Hear me, gentlemen,' cried I. 'If either of you again say any thing disrespectful or insulting to the other, I declare, on my honour, he shall leave me instantly. At present, I should be happy if both would do me the favour of escorting me to Lady Gwyn's, as I may meet with treatment there that will render the support of friends indispensible.'

It was now Stuart's turn to look downcast, and Betterton's to smile triumphant. The fact is, I wished to shew this admirable villain how grateful I felt for his meritorious conduct in not having deserted me.

'I will accept of your invitation with pleasure,' said he, 'for my seat lies within a few miles of her ladyship, and I wish to visit my tenantry.'

It was now noon. A few fleecy clouds floated in the blue depths of ether. The breeze brought coolness on its wings, and an inviting valley, watered by a rivulet, lay on the left; here whitened with sheep, and there dotted with little encampments of hay.

Exhilarated by the scene, after so long a confinement in the smoke and stir of London, I proposed to my companions the rural exercise of walking, as preferable to proceeding cooped up in a carriage. Each, whatever was his motive, caught at the proposal with delight, and we dismissed our chaises.

I now hastened to luxuriate in Arcadian beatitude. The pastoral habit of Tuscany was favourable; nothing remained but to rival an Ida, or a Glorvina, in simple touches of nature; and to trip along the lawns, like a Daphne or a Hamadryad.

In an instant, I sprang across a hedge, and fled towards the little valley, light as a wood-nymph flying from a satyr. I then took up a most picturesque position. It was beside of the streamlet, under a weeping willow, and on a grassy bank. Close behind me lay one of the most romantic cottages that I had ever seen, and at its back was a small garden, encompassed by green paling. The stream, bordered with wild-flowers, prattled prettily; save here and there, where a jutting stone shattered its crystal, and made its music hoarse. It purled and murmured a little too, but no where could it be said either to tinkle or gurgle, to chide or brawl.

Flinging off my bonnet, I shook my narcissine locks over my shoulders, and began braiding them in the manner of a simple shepherdess.

Stuart came up the first. I plucked a daisy that was half dipt into the brook; and instead of shaking off its moisture, I quaffed the liquid fragrance with my lip, and then held the flower to him.

'What am I to do with it?' said he.

'To pledge me,' replied I. 'To drink Nature's nectar, that trembles on the leaves which my lip has consecrated.'

He laughed and kissed the flower. That moment a lambkin began its pretty bleat.

'Now,' said I, 'make me a simple tripping little ditty on a lambkin.'

'You shall have it,' answered he, 'and such as an attorney's clerk would read to a milliner's apprentice.'

 
Dear sensibility, O la!
I heard a little lamb cry, ba;
Says I, so you have lost mamma?
Ah!
 
 
The little lamb, as I said so,
Frisking about the field did go,
And frisking, trod upon my toe.
Oh!
 

'Neat enough,' said I, 'only that it wants the word love in it.'

'True,' cried Stuart; 'for all modern poems of the kind abound in the word, though they seldom have much of the feeling.'

'And pray, my good friend,' asked I archly, as I bound up my golden ringlets – 'What is love?'

'Nay,' said he, 'they say that talking of love is making it.'

Plucking a thistle that sprang from the bank, I blew away its down with my balmy breath, merely to hide my confusion.

Surely I am the most sensitive of all created beings!

Betterton had now reached us, out of breath after his race, and utterly unable to articulate.

'Betterton,' cried I, 'what is love?'

''Tis,' said he, gasping, ''tis – 'tis – '

'The gentleman,' cried Stuart, 'gives as good a description of it as most of our modern poets; who make its chief ingredients panting and broken murmurs.'

'Now in my opinion,' said I, 'love is a mystical sympathy, which unfolds itself in the glance that seeks the soul, – the sentiment that the soul embodies – the tender gaiety – the more delicious sadness – the stifled sigh – the soft and malicious smile – the thrill, the hope, the fear – each in itself a little bliss. In a word, it is the swoon of the soul, the delirium of the heart, the elegant inebriety of unsophisticated sentiment.'

'If such be love,' said Stuart, 'I fear I shall never bring myself to make it.'

'And pray,' said I, 'how would you make love?'

'There are many modes,' answered he, 'and the way to succeed with one girl is often the way to fail with another. Girls may be divided into the conversable and inconversable. He who can talk the best, has therefore the best chance of the former; but would a man make a conquest of one of the beautiful Inutilities, who sits in sweet stupidity, plays off the small simpers, and founds her prospects in life on the shape of her face, he has little more to do than call her a goddess and make himself a monkey. Or if that should fail, as he cannot apply to her understanding, he must have recourse to her feeling, and try what the touch can do for him. The touch has a thousand virtues. Only let him establish a lodgment on the first joint of her little finger, he may soon set out on his travels, and make the grand tour of her waist. This is, indeed, to have wit at his fingers' ends; and this, I can assure you, is the best and shortest way to gain the hearts of those demure misses, who think that all modesty consists in silence, that to be insipid is to be innocent, and that because they have not a word for a young man in public, they may have a kiss for him in private.'

'Come,' said I, 'let us talk of love in poetry, not prose. I want some pretty verses to fill up my memoirs; so, Betterton, now for an amorous ode to your mistress.'

Betterton bowed and began:

TO FANNY

 
Say, Fanny, why has bounteous heaven,
In every end benign and wise,
Perfection to your features given?
Enchantment to your witching eyes?
 
 
Was it that mortal man might view
Thy charms at distance, and adore?
Ah, no! the man who would not woo,
Were less than mortal, or were more.
 
 
The mossy rose that scents the sky,
By bee, by butterfly caress'd,
We leave not on the stalk to die,
But fondly snatch it to the breast
 
 
There, unsurpassed in sweets, it dwells; —
Unless the breast be Fanny's own:
There blooming, every bloom excels; —
Except of Fanny's blush alone.
 
 
O Fanny, life is on the wing,
And years, like rivers, glide away:
To-morrow may misfortune bring,
Then, gentle girl, enjoy to-day
 
 
And while a lingering kiss I sip,
Ah, start not from these ardent arms;
Nor think the printure of my lip
Will rob your own of any charms.
 
 
For see, we crush not, though we tread,
The cup and primrose. Fanny smiled.
Come then and press the cup, she said,
Come then and press the primrose wild.
 

'Now,' cried Stuart, 'I can give you a poem, with just as much love in it, and twice as much kissing.'

'That,' said I, 'would be a treasure indeed.'

He then began thus:

TO SALLY

 
Dawn with stains of ruddy light,
Streaks her grey and fragrant fingers,
While the Ethiop foot of night,
Envious of my Sally, lingers.
 
 
Upward poplars, downward willows,
Rustle round us; zephyrs sprinkle
Leaves of daffodillies, lilies,
Pennyroyal, periwinkle.
 
 
Rosy, balmy, honied, humid,
Biting, burning, murmuring kisses,
Sally, I will snatch from you, mid
Looks demure that tempt to blisses.
 
 
If your cheek grow cold, my dear,
I will kiss it, till it flushes,
Or if warm, my raptured tear,
Shall extinguish all its blushes.
 
 
Yes, that dimple is a valley,
Where sports many a little true love,
And that glance you dart, my Sally,
Might melt diamonds into dew love.
 
 
But while idle thus I chat,
I the war of lips am missing.
This, this, this, and that, that, that,
These make kissing, kissing, kissing.
 

The style of this poem reminded me of Montmorenci, and at the same moment I heard a rustling sound behind me. I started. ''Tis Montmorenci!' cried I.

Agitated in the extreme, I turned to see. – It was only a cock-sparrow.

'I deserve the disappointment,' said I to myself, 'for I have never once thought of that amiable youth since I last beheld him. 'Sweetest and noblest of men,' exclaimed I, aloud, 'say, dost thou mourn my mysterious absence? Perhaps the draught of air that I now inhale is the same which thou hast breathed forth, in a sigh for the far distant Cherubina!'

'That cannot well be,' interrupted Stuart, 'or at least the sigh of this unknown must have been packed up in a case, and hermetically sealed, to have come to you without being dispersed on the way.'

'There you happen to be mistaken,' answered I. 'For in the Hermit of the Rock, the heroine, while sitting on the coast of Sardinia, seemed to think it highly probable, that the billow at her feet might be the identical billow which had swallowed up her lover, about a year before, off the coast of Martinique.'

'That was not at all more improbable than Valancourt's theory,' said Stuart.

'What was it?' asked I.

'Why,' said he, 'that the sun sets, in different longitudes, at the same moment. For when his Emily was going to Italy, while he remained in France, he begged of her to watch the setting of the sun every evening, that both their eyes might be fixed upon the same object at once. Now, as the sun would set, where she was in Italy, much earlier than where he was in France, he certainly took the best of all possible methods to prevent their looking at it together.'

'But, Sir,' said Betterton, 'heroes and heroines are not bound to understand astronomy.'

'And yet,' answered Stuart, 'they are greater star-gazers than the ancient Egyptians. To form an attachment for the moon, and write a sonnet on it, is the principal test of being a heroine.'

As he spoke, a painted butterfly came fluttering about me. To pursue it was a classical amusement, for Caroline of Lichfield made a butterfly-hunt her pastime; so springing on my feet, I began the chace. The nimble insect eluded me for a long time, and at last got over the paling, into the little garden. I followed it through a small gate, and caught it; but alas! bruised it in the capture, and broke one of its wings. The poor thing sought refuge in a lily, where it lay struggling a few moments, and then its little spirit fled for ever.

What an opportunity for a sonnet! I determined to compose one under the willow. A beautiful rose-bush was blushing near the lily, and reminded me how pastoral I should look, could I recline on roses, during my poetical ecstasy. But would it be proper to pick them? Surely a few could do no harm. I glanced round – Nobody was in sight – I picked a few. But what signified a few for what I wanted? I picked a few more. The more I picked, the more I longed to pick – 'Tis human nature; and was not Eve herself tempted in a garden? So from roses I went to lilies, from lilies to carnations, thence to jessamine, honey-suckle, eglantine, sweet-pea; till, in short, I had filled my bonnet, and almost emptied the beds. I then hurried to the willow with my prize; sentenced Stuart and Betterton to fifty yards banishment, and constructed a charming couch of flowers, which I damasked and inlaid with daisies, butter-flowers, and moss.

Enraptured with my paradisaical carpet, I flung myself upon it, and my recumbent form, as it pressed the perfumes, was indeed that of Mahomet's Houri. Exercise and agitation had heightened the glow of my cheeks, and the wind had blown my yellow hair about my face, like withered leaves round a ripened peach. I never looked so lovely.

In a short time I was able to repeat this sonnet aloud.

SONNET

 
Where the blue stream reflected flowerets pale,
A fluttering butterfly, with many a freak,
Dipped into dancing bells, and spread its sail
Of azure pinions, edged with jetty streak.
I snatched it passing; but a pinion frail,
Ingrained with mealy gold, I chanced to break.
The mangled insect, ill deserving bane,
Falls in the hollow of a lily new.
My tears drop after it, but drop in vain.
The cup, embalmed with azure airs and dew,
And flowery dust and grains of fragrant seed,
Can ne'er revive it from the fatal deed.
So guileless nymphs attract some traiterous eye,
So by the spoiler crushed, reject all joy and die.
 

Now that the pomp of composition was over, I began to think I had treated the owner of the garden extremely ill. I felt myself guilty of little less than theft, and was deliberating on what I ought to do, when an old, grey-headed peasant came running towards me from the garden.

'Miss!' cried he, 'have you seen any body pass this way with a parcel of flowers; for some confounded thief has just robbed me of all I had?'

I raised myself a little to reply, and he perceived the flowers underneath.

'Odd's life!' cried he, 'so you are the thief, are you? How dare you, hussey, commit such a robbery?'

'I am no hussey, and 'tis no robbery,' cried I; 'and trust me, you shall neither have apology nor compensation. Hussey, indeed! Sir, it was all your own fault for leaving that uncouth gate of your's open. I am afraid, Sir, that you are a shockingly ignorant old man.'

The peasant was just about to seize me, when Stuart ran up, and prevented him. They had then some private conversation together, and I saw Stuart give him a guinea. The talismanic touch of gold struck instant peace, and a compact of amity followed. Indeed, I have ever found, that even my face, though a heroine's, and with all its dimples, blushes, and glances, could never do half so much for me as the royal face on a bit of gold.

The peasant was now very civil, and invited us to rest in his cottage. Thither we repaired, and found his daughter, a beautiful young woman, just preparing the dinner. I felt instantly interested in her fate. I likewise felt hungry; so calling her aside, I told her that I would be happy to have a dinner, and, if possible, a bed, at the cottage; and that I would recompense her liberally for them, as I was a lady of rank, but at present in great affliction.

She said she would be very glad to accommodate me, if her father would permit her; and she then went to consult him. After a private conference between them and Stuart, she told me that her father was willing to let me remain. So we soon agreed upon the terms, and a village was at hand, where Stuart and Betterton might dine and sleep.

Before they left me, they made me give a solemn promise not to quit the cottage, till both of them should return, the next morning.

Stuart took an opportunity of asking me, whether he could speak to me in private, that evening.

'At ten o'clock to-night,' answered I, 'I will be sitting at the casement of my chamber. Trill a lamenting canzonet beneath it, as a signal, and I will admit you to a stolen interview.'

Betterton and he then departed, but not in company with each other.

Dinner is announced.

Adieu