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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Mary
+       A Fiction
+
+
+Author: Mary Wollstonecraft
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 24, 2005  [eBook #16357]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Janet Blenkinship, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: The author is Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797).
+
+
+
+
+
+MARY,
+
+A Fiction
+
+L'exercice des plus sublimes vertus éleve et nourrit le génie.
+                                                     ROUSSEAU.
+
+London,
+Printed for J. Johnson, St. Paul's Church-Yard.
+
+MDCCLXXXVIII
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ADVERTISEMENT.
+
+
+In delineating the Heroine of this Fiction, the Author attempts to
+develop a character different from those generally portrayed. This woman
+is neither a Clarissa, a Lady G----, nor a[A] Sophie.--It would be vain
+to mention the various modifications of these models, as it would to
+remark, how widely artists wander from nature, when they copy the
+originals of great masters. They catch the gross parts; but the subtile
+spirit evaporates; and not having the just ties, affectation disgusts,
+when grace was expected to charm.
+
+Those compositions only have power to delight, and carry us willing
+captives, where the soul of the author is exhibited, and animates the
+hidden springs. Lost in a pleasing enthusiasm, they live in the scenes
+they represent; and do not measure their steps in a beaten track,
+solicitous to gather expected flowers, and bind them in a wreath,
+according to the prescribed rules of art.
+
+These chosen few, wish to speak for themselves, and not to be an
+echo--even of the sweetest sounds--or the reflector of the most sublime
+beams. The[B] paradise they ramble in, must be of their own creating--or
+the prospect soon grows insipid, and not varied by a vivifying
+principle, fades and dies.
+
+In an artless tale, without episodes, the mind of a woman, who has
+thinking powers is displayed. The female organs have been thought too
+weak for this arduous employment; and experience seems to justify the
+assertion. Without arguing physically about _possibilities_--in a
+fiction, such a being may be allowed to exist; whose grandeur is derived
+from the operations of its own faculties, not subjugated to opinion; but
+drawn by the individual from the original source.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote A: Rousseau.]
+
+[Footnote B: I here give the Reviewers an opportunity of being very
+witty about the Paradise of Fools, &c.]
+
+
+
+
+MARY
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. I.
+
+
+Mary, the heroine of this fiction, was the daughter of Edward, who
+married Eliza, a gentle, fashionable girl, with a kind of indolence in
+her temper, which might be termed negative good-nature: her virtues,
+indeed, were all of that stamp. She carefully attended to the _shews_ of
+things, and her opinions, I should have said prejudices, were such as
+the generality approved of. She was educated with the expectation of a
+large fortune, of course became a mere machine: the homage of her
+attendants made a great part of her puerile amusements, and she never
+imagined there were any relative duties for her to fulfil: notions of
+her own consequence, by these means, were interwoven in her mind, and
+the years of youth spent in acquiring a few superficial accomplishments,
+without having any taste for them. When she was first introduced into
+the polite circle, she danced with an officer, whom she faintly wished
+to be united to; but her father soon after recommending another in a
+more distinguished rank of life, she readily submitted to his will, and
+promised to love, honour, and obey, (a vicious fool,) as in duty bound.
+
+While they resided in London, they lived in the usual fashionable style,
+and seldom saw each other; nor were they much more sociable when they
+wooed rural felicity for more than half the year, in a delightful
+country, where Nature, with lavish hand, had scattered beauties around;
+for the master, with brute, unconscious gaze, passed them by unobserved,
+and sought amusement in country sports. He hunted in the morning, and
+after eating an immoderate dinner, generally fell asleep: this
+seasonable rest enabled him to digest the cumbrous load; he would then
+visit some of his pretty tenants; and when he compared their ruddy glow
+of health with his wife's countenance, which even rouge could not
+enliven, it is not necessary to say which a _gourmand_ would give the
+preference to. Their vulgar dance of spirits were infinitely more
+agreeable to his fancy than her sickly, die-away languor. Her voice was
+but the shadow of a sound, and she had, to complete her delicacy, so
+relaxed her nerves, that she became a mere nothing.
+
+Many such noughts are there in the female world! yet she had a good
+opinion of her own merit,--truly, she said long prayers,--and sometimes
+read her Week's Preparation: she dreaded that horrid place vulgarly
+called _hell_, the regions below; but whether her's was a mounting
+spirit, I cannot pretend to determine; or what sort of a planet would
+have been proper for her, when she left her _material_ part in this
+world, let metaphysicians settle; I have nothing to say to her unclothed
+spirit.
+
+As she was sometimes obliged to be alone, or only with her French
+waiting-maid, she sent to the metropolis for all the new publications,
+and while she was dressing her hair, and she could turn her eyes from
+the glass, she ran over those most delightful substitutes for bodily
+dissipation, novels. I say bodily, or the animal soul, for a rational
+one can find no employment in polite circles. The glare of lights, the
+studied inelegancies of dress, and the compliments offered up at the
+shrine of false beauty, are all equally addressed to the senses.
+
+When she could not any longer indulge the caprices of fancy one way, she
+tried another. The Platonic Marriage, Eliza Warwick, and some other
+interesting tales were perused with eagerness. Nothing could be more
+natural than the developement of the passions, nor more striking than
+the views of the human heart. What delicate struggles! and uncommonly
+pretty turns of thought! The picture that was found on a bramble-bush,
+the new sensitive-plant, or tree, which caught the swain by the
+upper-garment, and presented to his ravished eyes a portrait.--Fatal
+image!--It planted a thorn in a till then insensible heart, and sent a
+new kind of a knight-errant into the world. But even this was nothing to
+the catastrophe, and the circumstance on which it hung, the hornet
+settling on the sleeping lover's face. What a _heart-rending_ accident!
+She planted, in imitation of those susceptible souls, a rose bush; but
+there was not a lover to weep in concert with her, when she watered it
+with her tears.--Alas! Alas!
+
+If my readers would excuse the sportiveness of fancy, and give me credit
+for genius, I would go on and tell them such tales as would force the
+sweet tears of sensibility to flow in copious showers down beautiful
+cheeks, to the discomposure of rouge, &c. &c. Nay, I would make it so
+interesting, that the fair peruser should beg the hair-dresser to
+settle the curls himself, and not interrupt her.
+
+She had besides another resource, two most beautiful dogs, who shared
+her bed, and reclined on cushions near her all the day. These she
+watched with the most assiduous care, and bestowed on them the warmest
+caresses. This fondness for animals was not that kind of
+_attendrissement_ which makes a person take pleasure in providing for
+the subsistence and comfort of a living creature; but it proceeded from
+vanity, it gave her an opportunity of lisping out the prettiest French
+expressions of ecstatic fondness, in accents that had never been attuned
+by tenderness.
+
+She was chaste, according to the vulgar acceptation of the word, that
+is, she did not make any actual _faux pas_; she feared the world, and
+was indolent; but then, to make amends for this seeming self-denial, she
+read all the sentimental novels, dwelt on the love-scenes, and, had she
+thought while she read, her mind would have been contaminated; as she
+accompanied the lovers to the lonely arbors, and would walk with them by
+the clear light of the moon. She wondered her husband did not stay at
+home. She was jealous--why did he not love her, sit by her side, squeeze
+her hand, and look unutterable things? Gentle reader, I will tell thee;
+they neither of them felt what they could not utter. I will not pretend
+to say that they always annexed an idea to a word; but they had none of
+those feelings which are not easily analyzed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. II.
+
+
+In due time she brought forth a son, a feeble babe; and the following
+year a daughter. After the mother's throes she felt very few sentiments
+of maternal tenderness: the children were given to nurses, and she
+played with her dogs. Want of exercise prevented the least chance of her
+recovering strength; and two or three milk-fevers brought on a
+consumption, to which her constitution tended. Her children all died in
+their infancy, except the two first, and she began to grow fond of the
+son, as he was remarkably handsome. For years she divided her time
+between the sofa, and the card-table. She thought not of death, though
+on the borders of the grave; nor did any of the duties of her station
+occur to her as necessary. Her children were left in the nursery; and
+when Mary, the little blushing girl, appeared, she would send the
+awkward thing away. To own the truth, she was awkward enough, in a house
+without any play-mates; for her brother had been sent to school, and she
+scarcely knew how to employ herself; she would ramble about the garden,
+admire the flowers, and play with the dogs. An old house-keeper told her
+stories, read to her, and, at last, taught her to read. Her mother
+talked of enquiring for a governess when her health would permit; and,
+in the interim desired her own maid to teach her French. As she had
+learned to read, she perused with avidity every book that came in her
+way. Neglected in every respect, and left to the operations of her own
+mind, she considered every thing that came under her inspection, and
+learned to think. She had heard of a separate state, and that angels
+sometimes visited this earth. She would sit in a thick wood in the park,
+and talk to them; make little songs addressed to them, and sing them to
+tunes of her own composing; and her native wood notes wild were sweet
+and touching.
+
+Her father always exclaimed against female acquirements, and was glad
+that his wife's indolence and ill health made her not trouble herself
+about them. She had besides another reason, she did not wish to have a
+fine tall girl brought forward into notice as her daughter; she still
+expected to recover, and figure away in the gay world. Her husband was
+very tyrannical and passionate; indeed so very easily irritated when
+inebriated, that Mary was continually in dread lest he should frighten
+her mother to death; her sickness called forth all Mary's tenderness,
+and exercised her compassion so continually, that it became more than a
+match for self-love, and was the governing propensity of her heart
+through life. She was violent in her temper; but she saw her father's
+faults, and would weep when obliged to compare his temper with her
+own.--She did more; artless prayers rose to Heaven for pardon, when she
+was conscious of having erred; and her contrition was so exceedingly
+painful, that she watched diligently the first movements of anger and
+impatience, to save herself this cruel remorse.
+
+Sublime ideas filled her young mind--always connected with devotional
+sentiments; extemporary effusions of gratitude, and rhapsodies of
+praise would burst often from her, when she listened to the birds, or
+pursued the deer. She would gaze on the moon, and ramble through the
+gloomy path, observing the various shapes the clouds assumed, and listen
+to the sea that was not far distant. The wandering spirits, which she
+imagined inhabited every part of nature, were her constant friends and
+confidants. She began to consider the Great First Cause, formed just
+notions of his attributes, and, in particular, dwelt on his wisdom and
+goodness. Could she have loved her father or mother, had they returned
+her affection, she would not so soon, perhaps, have sought out a new
+world.
+
+Her sensibility prompted her to search for an object to love; on earth
+it was not to be found: her mother had often disappointed her, and the
+apparent partiality she shewed to her brother gave her exquisite
+pain--produced a kind of habitual melancholy, led her into a fondness
+for reading tales of woe, and made her almost realize the fictitious
+distress.
+
+She had not any notion of death till a little chicken expired at her
+feet; and her father had a dog hung in a passion. She then concluded
+animals had souls, or they would not have been subjected to the caprice
+of man; but what was the soul of man or beast? In this style year after
+year rolled on, her mother still vegetating.
+
+A little girl who attended in the nursery fell sick. Mary paid her great
+attention; contrary to her wish, she was sent out of the house to her
+mother, a poor woman, whom necessity obliged to leave her sick child
+while she earned her daily bread. The poor wretch, in a fit of delirium
+stabbed herself, and Mary saw her dead body, and heard the dismal
+account; and so strongly did it impress her imagination, that every
+night of her life the bleeding corpse presented itself to her when the
+first began to slumber. Tortured by it, she at last made a vow, that if
+she was ever mistress of a family she would herself watch over every
+part of it. The impression that this accident made was indelible.
+
+As her mother grew imperceptibly worse and worse, her father, who did
+not understand such a lingering complaint, imagined his wife was only
+grown still more whimsical, and that if she could be prevailed on to
+exert herself, her health would soon be re-established. In general he
+treated her with indifference; but when her illness at all interfered
+with his pleasures, he expostulated in the most cruel manner, and
+visibly harassed the invalid. Mary would then assiduously try to turn
+his attention to something else; and when sent out of the room, would
+watch at the door, until the storm was over, for unless it was, she
+could not rest. Other causes also contributed to disturb her repose: her
+mother's luke-warm manner of performing her religious duties, filled her
+with anguish; and when she observed her father's vices, the unbidden
+tears would flow. She was miserable when beggars were driven from the
+gate without being relieved; if she could do it unperceived, she would
+give them her own breakfast, and feel gratified, when, in consequence of
+it, she was pinched by hunger.
+
+She had once, or twice, told her little secrets to her mother; they were
+laughed at, and she determined never to do it again. In this manner was
+she left to reflect on her own feelings; and so strengthened were they
+by being meditated on, that her character early became singular and
+permanent. Her understanding was strong and clear, when not clouded by
+her feelings; but she was too much the creature of impulse, and the
+slave of compassion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. III.
+
+
+Near her father's house lived a poor widow, who had been brought up in
+affluence, but reduced to great distress by the extravagance of her
+husband; he had destroyed his constitution while he spent his fortune;
+and dying, left his wife, and five small children, to live on a very
+scanty pittance. The eldest daughter was for some years educated by a
+distant relation, a Clergyman. While she was with him a young gentleman,
+son to a man of property in the neighbourhood, took particular notice of
+her. It is true, he never talked of love; but then they played and sung
+in concert; drew landscapes together, and while she worked he read to
+her, cultivated her taste, and stole imperceptibly her heart. Just at
+this juncture, when smiling, unanalyzed hope made every prospect bright,
+and gay expectation danced in her eyes, her benefactor died. She
+returned to her mother--the companion of her youth forgot her, they took
+no more sweet counsel together. This disappointment spread a sadness
+over her countenance, and made it interesting. She grew fond of
+solitude, and her character appeared similar to Mary's, though her
+natural disposition was very different.
+
+She was several years older than Mary, yet her refinement, her taste,
+caught her eye, and she eagerly sought her friendship: before her return
+she had assisted the family, which was almost reduced to the last ebb;
+and now she had another motive to actuate her.
+
+As she had often occasion to send messages to Ann, her new friend,
+mistakes were frequently made; Ann proposed that in future they should
+be written ones, to obviate this difficulty, and render their
+intercourse more agreeable. Young people are mostly fond of scribbling;
+Mary had had very little instruction; but by copying her friend's
+letters, whose hand she admired, she soon became a proficient; a little
+practice made her write with tolerable correctness, and her genius gave
+force to it. In conversation, and in writing, when she felt, she was
+pathetic, tender and persuasive; and she expressed contempt with such
+energy, that few could stand the flash of her eyes.
+
+As she grew more intimate with Ann, her manners were softened, and she
+acquired a degree of equality in her behaviour: yet still her spirits
+were fluctuating, and her movements rapid. She felt less pain on
+account of her mother's partiality to her brother, as she hoped now to
+experience the pleasure of being beloved; but this hope led her into new
+sorrows, and, as usual, paved the way for disappointment. Ann only felt
+gratitude; her heart was entirely engrossed by one object, and
+friendship could not serve as a substitute; memory officiously retraced
+past scenes, and unavailing wishes made time loiter.
+
+Mary was often hurt by the involuntary indifference which these
+consequences produced. When her friend was all the world to her, she
+found she was not as necessary to her happiness; and her delicate mind
+could not bear to obtrude her affection, or receive love as an alms, the
+offspring of pity. Very frequently has she ran to her with delight, and
+not perceiving any thing of the same kind in Ann's countenance, she has
+shrunk back; and, falling from one extreme into the other, instead of a
+warm greeting that was just slipping from her tongue, her expressions
+seemed to be dictated by the most chilling insensibility.
+
+She would then imagine that she looked sickly or unhappy, and then all
+her tenderness would return like a torrent, and bear away all
+reflection. In this manner was her sensibility called forth, and
+exercised, by her mother's illness, her friend's misfortunes, and her
+own unsettled mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. IV.
+
+
+Near to her father's house was a range of mountains; some of them were,
+literally speaking, cloud-capt, for on them clouds continually rested,
+and gave grandeur to the prospect; and down many of their sides the
+little bubbling cascades ran till they swelled a beautiful river.
+Through the straggling trees and bushes the wind whistled, and on them
+the birds sung, particularly the robins; they also found shelter in the
+ivy of an old castle, a haunted one, as the story went; it was situated
+on the brow of one of the mountains, and commanded a view of the sea.
+This castle had been inhabited by some of her ancestors; and many tales
+had the old house-keeper told her of the worthies who had resided there.
+
+When her mother frowned, and her friend looked cool, she would steal to
+this retirement, where human foot seldom trod--gaze on the sea, observe
+the grey clouds, or listen to the wind which struggled to free itself
+from the only thing that impeded its course. When more cheerful, she
+admired the various dispositions of light and shade, the beautiful tints
+the gleams of sunshine gave to the distant hills; then she rejoiced in
+existence, and darted into futurity.
+
+One way home was through the cavity of a rock covered with a thin layer
+of earth, just sufficient to afford nourishment to a few stunted shrubs
+and wild plants, which grew on its sides, and nodded over the summit. A
+clear stream broke out of it, and ran amongst the pieces of rocks
+fallen into it. Here twilight always reigned--it seemed the Temple of
+Solitude; yet, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, when the foot
+sounded on the rock, it terrified the intruder, and inspired a strange
+feeling, as if the rightful sovereign was dislodged. In this retreat she
+read Thomson's Seasons, Young's Night-Thoughts, and Paradise Lost.
+
+At a little distance from it were the huts of a few poor fishermen, who
+supported their numerous children by their precarious labour. In these
+little huts she frequently rested, and denied herself every childish
+gratification, in order to relieve the necessities of the inhabitants.
+Her heart yearned for them, and would dance with joy when she had
+relieved their wants, or afforded them pleasure.
+
+In these pursuits she learned the luxury of doing good; and the sweet
+tears of benevolence frequently moistened her eyes, and gave them a
+sparkle which, exclusive of that, they had not; on the contrary, they
+were rather fixed, and would never have been observed if her soul had
+not animated them. They were not at all like those brilliant ones which
+look like polished diamonds, and dart from every superfice, giving more
+light to the beholders than they receive themselves.
+
+Her benevolence, indeed, knew no bounds; the distress of others carried
+her out of herself; and she rested not till she had relieved or
+comforted them. The warmth of her compassion often made her so diligent,
+that many things occurred to her, which might have escaped a less
+interested observer.
+
+In like manner, she entered with such spirit into whatever she read,
+and the emotions thereby raised were so strong, that it soon became a
+part of her mind.
+
+Enthusiastic sentiments of devotion at this period actuated her; her
+Creator was almost apparent to her senses in his works; but they were
+mostly the grand or solemn features of Nature which she delighted to
+contemplate. She would stand and behold the waves rolling, and think of
+the voice that could still the tumultuous deep.
+
+These propensities gave the colour to her mind, before the passions
+began to exercise their tyrannic sway, and particularly pointed out
+those which the soil would have a tendency to nurse.
+
+Years after, when wandering through the same scenes, her imagination has
+strayed back, to trace the first placid sentiments they inspired, and
+she would earnestly desire to regain the same peaceful tranquillity.
+
+Many nights she sat up, if I may be allowed the expression, _conversing_
+with the Author of Nature, making verses, and singing hymns of her own
+composing. She considered also, and tried to discern what end her
+various faculties were destined to pursue; and had a glimpse of a truth,
+which afterwards more fully unfolded itself.
+
+She thought that only an infinite being could fill the human soul, and
+that when other objects were followed as a means of happiness, the
+delusion led to misery, the consequence of disappointment. Under the
+influence of ardent affections, how often has she forgot this
+conviction, and as often returned to it again, when it struck her with
+redoubled force. Often did she taste unmixed delight; her joys, her
+ecstacies arose from genius.
+
+She was now fifteen, and she wished to receive the holy sacrament; and
+perusing the scriptures, and discussing some points of doctrine which
+puzzled her, she would sit up half the night, her favourite time for
+employing her mind; she too plainly perceived that she saw through a
+glass darkly; and that the bounds set to stop our intellectual
+researches, is one of the trials of a probationary state.
+
+But her affections were roused by the display of divine mercy; and she
+eagerly desired to commemorate the dying love of her great benefactor.
+The night before the important day, when she was to take on herself her
+baptismal vow, she could not go to bed; the sun broke in on her
+meditations, and found her not exhausted by her watching.
+
+The orient pearls were strewed around--she hailed the morn, and sung
+with wild delight, Glory to God on high, good will towards men. She was
+indeed so much affected when she joined in the prayer for her eternal
+preservation, that she could hardly conceal her violent emotions; and
+the recollection never failed to wake her dormant piety when earthly
+passions made it grow languid.
+
+These various movements of her mind were not commented on, nor were the
+luxuriant shoots restrained by culture. The servants and the poor adored
+her.
+
+In order to be enabled to gratify herself in the highest degree, she
+practiced the most rigid oeconomy, and had such power over her
+appetites and whims, that without any great effort she conquered them
+so entirely, that when her understanding or affections had an object,
+she almost forgot she had a body which required nourishment.
+
+This habit of thinking, this kind of absorption, gave strength to the
+passions.
+
+We will now enter on the more active field of life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. V.
+
+
+A few months after Mary was turned of seventeen, her brother was
+attacked by a violent fever, and died before his father could reach the
+school.
+
+She was now an heiress, and her mother began to think her of
+consequence, and did not call her _the child_. Proper masters were sent
+for; she was taught to dance, and an extraordinary master procured to
+perfect her in that most necessary of all accomplishments.
+
+A part of the estate she was to inherit had been litigated, and the heir
+of the person who still carried on a Chancery suit, was only two years
+younger than our heroine. The fathers, spite of the dispute, frequently
+met, and, in order to settle it amicably, they one day, over a bottle,
+determined to quash it by a marriage, and, by uniting the two estates,
+to preclude all farther enquiries into the merits of their different
+claims.
+
+While this important matter was settling, Mary was otherwise employed.
+Ann's mother's resources were failing; and the ghastly phantom, poverty,
+made hasty strides to catch them in his clutches. Ann had not fortitude
+enough to brave such accumulated misery; besides, the canker-worm was
+lodged in her heart, and preyed on her health. She denied herself every
+little comfort; things that would be no sacrifice when a person is well,
+are absolutely necessary to alleviate bodily pain, and support the
+animal functions.
+
+There were many elegant amusements, that she had acquired a relish for,
+which might have taken her mind off from its most destructive bent; but
+these her indigence would not allow her to enjoy: forced then, by way of
+relaxation, to play the tunes her lover admired, and handle the pencil
+he taught her to hold, no wonder his image floated on her imagination,
+and that taste invigorated love.
+
+Poverty, and all its inelegant attendants, were in her mother's abode;
+and she, though a good sort of a woman, was not calculated to banish, by
+her trivial, uninteresting chat, the delirium in which her daughter was
+lost.
+
+This ill-fated love had given a bewitching softness to her manners, a
+delicacy so truly feminine, that a man of any feeling could not behold
+her without wishing to chase her sorrows away. She was timid and
+irresolute, and rather fond of dissipation; grief only had power to make
+her reflect.
+
+In every thing it was not the great, but the beautiful, or the pretty,
+that caught her attention. And in composition, the polish of style, and
+harmony of numbers, interested her much more than the flights of genius,
+or abstracted speculations.
+
+She often wondered at the books Mary chose, who, though she had a lively
+imagination, would frequently study authors whose works were addressed
+to the understanding. This liking taught her to arrange her thoughts,
+and argue with herself, even when under the influence of the most
+violent passions.
+
+Ann's misfortunes and ill health were strong ties to bind Mary to her;
+she wished so continually to have a home to receive her in, that it
+drove every other desire out of her mind; and, dwelling on the tender
+schemes which compassion and friendship dictated, she longed most
+ardently to put them in practice.
+
+Fondly as she loved her friend, she did not forget her mother, whose
+decline was so imperceptible, that they were not aware of her
+approaching dissolution. The physician, however, observing the most
+alarming symptoms; her husband was apprised of her immediate danger; and
+then first mentioned to her his designs with respect to his daughter.
+
+She approved of them; Mary was sent for; she was not at home; she had
+rambled to visit Ann, and found her in an hysteric fit. The landlord of
+her little farm had sent his agent for the rent, which had long been due
+to him; and he threatened to seize the stock that still remained, and
+turn them out, if they did not very shortly discharge the arrears.
+
+As this man made a private fortune by harassing the tenants of the
+person to whom he was deputy, little was to be expected from his
+forbearance.
+
+All this was told to Mary--and the mother added, she had many other
+creditors who would, in all probability, take the alarm, and snatch from
+them all that had been saved out of the wreck. "I could bear all," she
+cried; "but what will become of my children? Of this child," pointing to
+the fainting Ann, "whose constitution is already undermined by care and
+grief--where will she go?"--Mary's heart ceased to beat while she asked
+the question--She attempted to speak; but the inarticulate sounds died
+away. Before she had recovered herself, her father called himself to
+enquire for her; and desired her instantly to accompany him home.
+
+Engrossed by the scene of misery she had been witness to, she walked
+silently by his side, when he roused her out of her reverie by telling
+her that in all likelihood her mother had not many hours to live; and
+before she could return him any answer, informed her that they had both
+determined to marry her to Charles, his friend's son; he added, the
+ceremony was to be performed directly, that her mother might be witness
+of it; for such a desire she had expressed with childish eagerness.
+
+Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with
+a vacant stare, fixed them on her father's face; but they were no longer
+a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain. As she drew near the
+house, her wonted presence of mind returned: after this suspension of
+thought, a thousand darted into her mind,--her dying mother,--her
+friend's miserable situation,--and an extreme horror at taking--at being
+forced to take, such a hasty step; but she did not feel the disgust, the
+reluctance, which arises from a prior attachment.
+
+She loved Ann better than any one in the world--to snatch her from the
+very jaws of destruction--she would have encountered a lion. To have
+this friend constantly with her; to make her mind easy with respect to
+her family, would it not be superlative bliss?
+
+Full of these thoughts she entered her mother's chamber, but they then
+fled at the sight of a dying parent. She went to her, took her hand; it
+feebly pressed her's. "My child," said the languid mother: the words
+reached her heart; she had seldom heard them pronounced with accents
+denoting affection; "My child, I have not always treated you with
+kindness--God forgive me! do you?"--Mary's tears strayed in a
+disregarded stream; on her bosom the big drops fell, but did not relieve
+the fluttering tenant. "I forgive you!" said she, in a tone of
+astonishment.
+
+The clergyman came in to read the service for the sick, and afterwards
+the marriage ceremony was performed. Mary stood like a statue of
+Despair, and pronounced the awful vow without thinking of it; and then
+ran to support her mother, who expired the same night in her arms.
+
+Her husband set off for the continent the same day, with a tutor, to
+finish his studies at one of the foreign universities.
+
+Ann was sent for to console her, not on account of the departure of her
+new relation, a boy she seldom took any notice of, but to reconcile her
+to her fate; besides, it was necessary she should have a female
+companion, and there was not any maiden aunt in the family, or cousin of
+the same class.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. VI.
+
+
+Mary was allowed to pay the rent which gave her so much uneasiness, and
+she exerted every nerve to prevail on her father effectually to succour
+the family; but the utmost she could obtain was a small sum very
+inadequate to the purpose, to enable the poor woman to carry into
+execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.
+
+Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight
+with him, than Mary's arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy and
+friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive of
+occult qualities he never thought of, as they could not be seen or
+felt.
+
+After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish,
+though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of
+amusing her. Had her health been re-established, the time would have
+passed in a tranquil, improving manner.
+
+During the year of mourning they lived in retirement; music, drawing,
+and reading, filled up the time; and Mary's taste and judgment were both
+improved by contracting a habit of observation, and permitting the
+simple beauties of Nature to occupy her thoughts.
+
+She had a wonderful quickness in discerning distinctions and combining
+ideas, that at the first glance did not appear to be similar. But these
+various pursuits did not banish all her cares, or carry off all her
+constitutional black bile. Before she enjoyed Ann's society, she
+imagined it would have made her completely happy: she was disappointed,
+and yet knew not what to complain of.
+
+As her friend could not accompany her in her walks, and wished to be
+alone, for a very obvious reason, she would return to her old haunts,
+retrace her anticipated pleasures--and wonder how they changed their
+colour in possession, and proved so futile.
+
+She had not yet found the companion she looked for. Ann and she were not
+congenial minds, nor did she contribute to her comfort in the degree she
+expected. She shielded her from poverty; but this was only a negative
+blessing; when under the pressure it was very grievous, and still more
+so were the apprehensions; but when exempt from them, she was not
+contented.
+
+Such is human nature, its laws were not to be inverted to gratify our
+heroine, and stop the progress of her understanding, happiness only
+flourished in paradise--we cannot taste and live.
+
+Another year passed away with increasing apprehensions. Ann had a hectic
+cough, and many unfavourable prognostics: Mary then forgot every thing
+but the fear of losing her, and even imagined that her recovery would
+have made her happy.
+
+Her anxiety led her to study physic, and for some time she only read
+books of that cast; and this knowledge, literally speaking, ended in
+vanity and vexation of spirit, as it enabled her to foresee what she
+could not prevent.
+
+As her mind expanded, her marriage appeared a dreadful misfortune; she
+was sometimes reminded of the heavy yoke, and bitter was the
+recollection!
+
+In one thing there seemed to be a sympathy between them, for she wrote
+formal answers to his as formal letters. An extreme dislike took root in
+her mind; the found of his name made her turn sick; but she forgot all,
+listening to Ann's cough, and supporting her languid frame. She would
+then catch her to her bosom with convulsive eagerness, as if to save her
+from sinking into an opening grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. VII.
+
+
+It was the will of Providence that Mary should experience almost every
+species of sorrow. Her father was thrown from his horse, when his blood
+was in a very inflammatory state, and the bruises were very dangerous;
+his recovery was not expected by the physical tribe.
+
+Terrified at seeing him so near death, and yet so ill prepared for it,
+his daughter sat by his bed, oppressed by the keenest anguish, which her
+piety increased.
+
+Her grief had nothing selfish in it; he was not a friend or protector;
+but he was her father, an unhappy wretch, going into eternity, depraved
+and thoughtless. Could a life of sensuality be a preparation for a
+peaceful death? Thus meditating, she passed the still midnight hour by
+his bedside.
+
+The nurse fell asleep, nor did a violent thunder storm interrupt her
+repose, though it made the night appear still more terrific to Mary. Her
+father's unequal breathing alarmed her, when she heard a long drawn
+breath, she feared it was his last, and watching for another, a dreadful
+peal of thunder struck her ears. Considering the separation of the soul
+and body, this night seemed sadly solemn, and the hours long.
+
+Death is indeed a king of terrors when he attacks the vicious man! The
+compassionate heart finds not any comfort; but dreads an eternal
+separation. No transporting greetings are anticipated, when the
+survivors also shall have finished their course; but all is black!--the
+grave may truly be said to receive the departed--this is the sting of
+death!
+
+Night after night Mary watched, and this excessive fatigue impaired her
+own health, but had a worse effect on Ann; though she constantly went to
+bed, she could not rest; a number of uneasy thoughts obtruded
+themselves; and apprehensions about Mary, whom she loved as well as her
+exhausted heart could love, harassed her mind. After a sleepless,
+feverish night she had a violent fit of coughing, and burst a
+blood-vessel. The physician, who was in the house, was sent for, and
+when he left the patient, Mary, with an authoritative voice, insisted on
+knowing his real opinion. Reluctantly he gave it, that her friend was in
+a critical state; and if she passed the approaching winter in England,
+he imagined she would die in the spring; a season fatal to consumptive
+disorders. The spring!--Her husband was then expected.--Gracious Heaven,
+could she bear all this.
+
+In a few days her father breathed his last. The horrid sensations his
+death occasioned were too poignant to be durable: and Ann's danger, and
+her own situation, made Mary deliberate what mode of conduct she should
+pursue. She feared this event might hasten the return of her husband,
+and prevent her putting into execution a plan she had determined on. It
+was to accompany Ann to a more salubrious climate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. VIII.
+
+
+I mentioned before, that Mary had never had any particular attachment,
+to give rise to the disgust that daily gained ground. Her friendship for
+Ann occupied her heart, and resembled a passion. She had had, indeed,
+several transient likings; but they did not amount to love. The society
+of men of genius delighted her, and improved her faculties. With beings
+of this class she did not often meet; it is a rare genus; her first
+favourites were men past the meridian of life, and of a philosophic
+turn.
+
+Determined on going to the South of France, or Lisbon; she wrote to the
+man she had promised to obey. The physicians had said change of air was
+necessary for her as well as her friend. She mentioned this, and added,
+"Her comfort, almost her existence, depended on the recovery of the
+invalid she wished to attend; and that should she neglect to follow the
+medical advice she had received, she should never forgive herself, or
+those who endeavoured to prevent her." Full of her design, she wrote
+with more than usual freedom; and this letter was like most of her
+others, a transcript of her heart.
+
+"This dear friend," she exclaimed, "I love for her agreeable qualities,
+and substantial virtues. Continual attention to her health, and the
+tender office of a nurse, have created an affection very like a maternal
+one--I am her only support, she leans on me--could I forsake the
+forsaken, and break the bruised reed--No--I would die first! I must--I
+will go."
+
+She would have added, "you would very much oblige me by consenting;" but
+her heart revolted--and irresolutely she wrote something about wishing
+him happy.--"Do I not wish all the world well?" she cried, as she
+subscribed her name--It was blotted, the letter sealed in a hurry, and
+sent out of her sight; and she began to prepare for her journey.
+
+By the return of the post she received an answer; it contained some
+common-place remarks on her romantic friendship, as he termed it; "But
+as the physicians advised change of air, he had no objection."
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. IX.
+
+
+There was nothing now to retard their journey; and Mary chose Lisbon
+rather than France, on account of its being further removed from the
+only person she wished not to see.
+
+They set off accordingly for Falmouth, in their way to that city. The
+journey was of use to Ann, and Mary's spirits were raised by her
+recovered looks--She had been in despair--now she gave way to hope, and
+was intoxicated with it. On ship-board Ann always remained in the cabin;
+the sight of the water terrified her: on the contrary, Mary, after she
+was gone to bed, or when she fell asleep in the day, went on deck,
+conversed with the sailors, and surveyed the boundless expanse before
+her with delight. One instant she would regard the ocean, the next the
+beings who braved its fury. Their insensibility and want of fear, she
+could not name courage; their thoughtless mirth was quite of an animal
+kind, and their feelings as impetuous and uncertain as the element they
+plowed.
+
+They had only been a week at sea when they hailed the rock of Lisbon,
+and the next morning anchored at the castle. After the customary visits,
+they were permitted to go on shore, about three miles from the city; and
+while one of the crew, who understood the language, went to procure them
+one of the ugly carriages peculiar to the country, they waited in the
+Irish convent, which is situated close to the Tagus.
+
+Some of the people offered to conduct them into the church, where there
+was a fine organ playing; Mary followed them, but Ann preferred staying
+with a nun she had entered into conversation with.
+
+One of the nuns, who had a sweet voice, was singing; Mary was struck
+with awe; her heart joined in the devotion; and tears of gratitude and
+tenderness flowed from her eyes. My Father, I thank thee! burst from
+her--words were inadequate to express her feelings. Silently, she
+surveyed the lofty dome; heard unaccustomed sounds; and saw faces,
+strange ones, that she could not yet greet with fraternal love.
+
+In an unknown land, she considered that the Being she adored inhabited
+eternity, was ever present in unnumbered worlds. When she had not any
+one she loved near her, she was particularly sensible of the presence
+of her Almighty Friend.
+
+The arrival of the carriage put a stop to her speculations; it was to
+conduct them to an hotel, fitted up for the reception of invalids.
+Unfortunately, before they could reach it there was a violent shower of
+rain; and as the wind was very high, it beat against the leather
+curtains, which they drew along the front of the vehicle, to shelter
+themselves from it; but it availed not, some of the rain forced its way,
+and Ann felt the effects of it, for she caught cold, spite of Mary's
+precautions.
+
+As is the custom, the rest of the invalids, or lodgers, sent to enquire
+after their health; and as soon as Ann left her chamber, in which her
+complaints seldom confined her the whole day, they came in person to pay
+their compliments. Three fashionable females, and two gentlemen; the
+one a brother of the eldest of the young ladies, and the other an
+invalid, who came, like themselves, for the benefit of the air. They
+entered into conversation immediately.
+
+People who meet in a strange country, and are all together in a house,
+soon get acquainted, without the formalities which attend visiting in
+separate houses, where they are surrounded by domestic friends. Ann was
+particularly delighted at meeting with agreeable society; a little
+hectic fever generally made her low-spirited in the morning, and lively
+in the evening, when she wished for company. Mary, who only thought of
+her, determined to cultivate their acquaintance, as she knew, that if
+her mind could be diverted, her body might gain strength.
+
+They were all musical, and proposed having little concerts. One of the
+gentlemen played on the violin, and the other on the german-flute. The
+instruments were brought in, with all the eagerness that attends putting
+a new scheme in execution.
+
+Mary had not said much, for she was diffident; she seldom joined in
+general conversations; though her quickness of penetration enabled her
+soon to enter into the characters of those she conversed with; and her
+sensibility made her desirous of pleasing every human creature. Besides,
+if her mind was not occupied by any particular sorrow, or study, she
+caught reflected pleasure, and was glad to see others happy, though
+their mirth did not interest her.
+
+This day she was continually thinking of Ann's recovery, and encouraging
+the cheerful hopes, which though they dissipated the spirits that had
+been condensed by melancholy, yet made her wish to be silent. The music,
+more than the conversation, disturbed her reflections; but not at first.
+The gentleman who played on the german-flute, was a handsome, well-bred,
+sensible man; and his observations, if not original, were pertinent.
+
+The other, who had not said much, began to touch the violin, and played
+a little Scotch ballad; he brought such a thrilling sound out of the
+instrument, that Mary started, and looking at him with more attention
+than she had done before, and saw, in a face rather ugly, strong lines
+of genius. His manners were awkward, that kind of awkwardness which is
+often found in literary men: he seemed a thinker, and delivered his
+opinions in elegant expressions, and musical tones of voice.
+
+When the concert was over, they all retired to their apartments. Mary
+always slept with Ann, as she was subject to terrifying dreams; and
+frequently in the night was obliged to be supported, to avoid
+suffocation. They chatted about their new acquaintance in their own
+apartment, and, with respect to the gentlemen, differed in opinion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. X.
+
+
+Every day almost they saw their new acquaintance; and civility produced
+intimacy. Mary sometimes left her friend with them; while she indulged
+herself in viewing new modes of life, and searching out the causes which
+produced them. She had a metaphysical turn, which inclined her to
+reflect on every object that passed by her; and her mind was not like a
+mirror, which receives every floating image, but does not retain them:
+she had not any prejudices, for every opinion was examined before it was
+adopted.
+
+The Roman Catholic ceremonies attracted her attention, and gave rise to
+conversations when they all met; and one of the gentlemen continually
+introduced deistical notions, when he ridiculed the pageantry they all
+were surprised at observing. Mary thought of both the subjects, the
+Romish tenets, and the deistical doubts; and though not a sceptic,
+thought it right to examine the evidence on which her faith was built.
+She read Butler's Analogy, and some other authors: and these researches
+made her a christian from conviction, and she learned charity,
+particularly with respect to sectaries; saw that apparently good and
+solid arguments might take their rise from different points of view; and
+she rejoiced to find that those she should not concur with had some
+reason on their side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XI.
+
+
+When I mentioned the three ladies, I said they were fashionable women;
+and it was all the praise, as a faithful historian, I could bestow on
+them; the only thing in which they were consistent. I forgot to mention
+that they were all of one family, a mother, her daughter, and niece. The
+daughter was sent by her physician, to avoid a northerly winter; the
+mother, her niece, and nephew, accompanied her.
+
+They were people of rank; but unfortunately, though of an ancient
+family, the title had descended to a very remote branch--a branch they
+took care to be intimate with; and servilely copied the Countess's
+airs. Their minds were shackled with a set of notions concerning
+propriety, the fitness of things for the world's eye, trammels which
+always hamper weak people. What will the world say? was the first thing
+that was thought of, when they intended doing any thing they had not
+done before. Or what would the Countess do on such an occasion? And when
+this question was answered, the right or wrong was discovered without
+the trouble of their having any idea of the matter in their own heads.
+This same Countess was a fine planet, and the satellites observed a most
+harmonic dance around her.
+
+After this account it is scarcely necessary to add, that their minds had
+received very little cultivation. They were taught French, Italian, and
+Spanish; English was their vulgar tongue. And what did they learn?
+Hamlet will tell you--words--words. But let me not forget that they
+squalled Italian songs in the true _gusto_. Without having any seeds
+sown in their understanding, or the affections of the heart set to work,
+they were brought out of their nursery, or the place they were secluded
+in, to prevent their faces being common; like blazing stars, to
+captivate Lords.
+
+They were pretty, and hurrying from one party of pleasure to another,
+occasioned the disorder which required change of air. The mother, if we
+except her being near twenty years older, was just the same creature;
+and these additional years only served to make her more tenaciously
+adhere to her habits of folly, and decide with stupid gravity, some
+trivial points of ceremony, as a matter of the last importance; of
+which she was a competent judge, from having lived in the fashionable
+world so long: that world to which the ignorant look up as we do to the
+sun.
+
+It appears to me that every creature has some notion--or rather relish,
+of the sublime. Riches, and the consequent state, are the sublime of
+weak minds:--These images fill, nay, are too big for their narrow souls.
+
+One afternoon, which they had engaged to spend together, Ann was so ill,
+that Mary was obliged to send an apology for not attending the
+tea-table. The apology brought them on the carpet; and the mother, with
+a look of solemn importance, turned to the sick man, whose name was
+Henry, and said;
+
+"Though people of the first fashion are frequently at places of this
+kind, intimate with they know not who; yet I do not choose that my
+daughter, whose family is so respectable, should be intimate with any
+one she would blush to know elsewhere. It is only on that account, for I
+never suffer her to be with any one but in my company," added she,
+sitting more erect; and a smile of self-complacency dressed her
+countenance.
+
+"I have enquired concerning these strangers, and find that the one who
+has the most dignity in her manners, is really a woman of fortune."
+"Lord, mamma, how ill she dresses:" mamma went on; "She is a romantic
+creature, you must not copy her, miss; yet she is an heiress of the
+large fortune in ----shire, of which you may remember to have heard the
+Countess speak the night you had on the dancing-dress that was so much
+admired; but she is married."
+
+She then told them the whole story as she heard it from her maid, who
+picked it out of Mary's servant. "She is a foolish creature, and this
+friend that she pays as much attention to as if she was a lady of
+quality, is a beggar." "Well, how strange!" cried the girls.
+
+"She is, however, a charming creature," said her nephew. Henry sighed,
+and strode across the room once or twice; then took up his violin, and
+played the air which first struck Mary; he had often heard her praise
+it.
+
+The music was uncommonly melodious, "And came stealing on the senses
+like the sweet south." The well-known sounds reached Mary as she sat by
+her friend--she listened without knowing that she did--and shed tears
+almost without being conscious of it. Ann soon fell asleep, as she had
+taken an opiate. Mary, then brooding over her fears, began to imagine
+she had deceived herself--Ann was still very ill; hope had beguiled many
+heavy hours; yet she was displeased with herself for admitting this
+welcome guest.--And she worked up her mind to such a degree of anxiety,
+that she determined, once more, to seek medical aid.
+
+No sooner did she determine, than she ran down with a discomposed look,
+to enquire of the ladies who she should send for. When she entered the
+room she could not articulate her fears--it appeared like pronouncing
+Ann's sentence of death; her faultering tongue dropped some broken
+words, and she remained silent. The ladies wondered that a person of her
+sense should be so little mistress of herself; and began to administer
+some common-place comfort, as, that it was our duty to submit to the
+will of Heaven, and the like trite consolations, which Mary did not
+answer; but waving her hand, with an air of impatience, she exclaimed,
+"I cannot live without her!--I have no other friend; if I lose her, what
+a desart will the world be to me." "No other friend," re-echoed they,
+"have you not a husband?"
+
+Mary shrunk back, and was alternately pale and red. A delicate sense of
+propriety prevented her replying; and recalled her bewildered
+reason.--Assuming, in consequence of her recollection, a more composed
+manner, she made the intended enquiry, and left the room. Henry's eyes
+followed her while the females very freely animadverted on her strange
+behaviour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XII.
+
+
+The physician was sent for; his prescription afforded Ann a little
+temporary relief; and they again joined the circle. Unfortunately, the
+weather happened to be constantly wet for more than a week, and confined
+them to the house. Ann then found the ladies not so agreeable; when they
+sat whole hours together, the thread-bare topics were exhausted; and,
+but for cards or music, the long evenings would have been yawned away in
+listless indolence.
+
+The bad weather had had as ill an effect on Henry as on Ann. He was
+frequently very thoughtful, or rather melancholy; this melancholy would
+of itself have attracted Mary's notice, if she had not found his
+conversation so infinitely superior to the rest of the group. When she
+conversed with him, all the faculties of her soul unfolded themselves;
+genius animated her expressive countenance and the most graceful,
+unaffected gestures gave energy to her discourse.
+
+They frequently discussed very important subjects, while the rest were
+singing or playing cards, nor were they observed for doing so, as Henry,
+whom they all were pleased with, in the way of gallantry shewed them all
+more attention than her. Besides, as there was nothing alluring in her
+dress or manner, they never dreamt of her being preferred to them.
+
+Henry was a man of learning; he had also studied mankind, and knew many
+of the intricacies of the human heart, from having felt the infirmities
+of his own. His taste was just, as it had a standard--Nature, which he
+observed with a critical eye. Mary could not help thinking that in his
+company her mind expanded, as he always went below the surface. She
+increased her stock of ideas, and her taste was improved.
+
+He was also a pious man; his rational religious sentiments received
+warmth from his sensibility; and, except on very particular occasions,
+kept it in proper bounds; these sentiments had likewise formed his
+temper; he was gentle, and easily to be intreated. The ridiculous
+ceremonies they were every day witness to, led them into what are termed
+grave subjects, and made him explain his opinions, which, at other
+times, he was neither ashamed of, nor unnecessarily brought forward to
+notice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XIII.
+
+
+When the weather began to clear up, Mary sometimes rode out alone,
+purposely to view the ruins that still remained of the earthquake: or
+she would ride to the banks of the Tagus, to feast her eyes with the
+sight of that magnificent river. At other times she would visit the
+churches, as she was particularly fond of seeing historical paintings.
+
+One of these visits gave rise to the subject, and the whole party
+descanted on it; but as the ladies could not handle it well, they soon
+adverted to portraits; and talked of the attitudes and characters in
+which they should wish to be drawn. Mary did not fix on one--when
+Henry, with more apparent warmth than usual, said, "I would give the
+world for your picture, with the expression I have seen in your face,
+when you have been supporting your friend."
+
+This delicate compliment did not gratify her vanity, but it reached her
+heart. She then recollected that she had once sat for her picture--for
+whom was it designed? For a boy! Her cheeks flushed with indignation, so
+strongly did she feel an emotion of contempt at having been thrown
+away--given in with an estate.
+
+As Mary again gave way to hope, her mind was more disengaged; and her
+thoughts were employed about the objects around her.
+
+She visited several convents, and found that solitude only eradicates
+some passions, to give strength to others; the most baneful ones. She
+saw that religion does not consist in ceremonies; and that many prayers
+may fall from the lips without purifying the heart.
+
+They who imagine they can be religious without governing their tempers,
+or exercising benevolence in its most extensive sense, must certainly
+allow, that their religious duties are only practiced from selfish
+principles; how then can they be called good? The pattern of all
+goodness went about _doing_ good. Wrapped up in themselves, the nuns
+only thought of inferior gratifications. And a number of intrigues were
+carried on to accelerate certain points on which their hearts were
+fixed:
+
+Such as obtaining offices of trust or authority; or avoiding those that
+were servile or laborious. In short, when they could be neither wives
+nor mothers, they aimed at being superiors, and became the most selfish
+creatures in the world: the passions that were curbed gave strength to
+the appetites, or to those mean passions which only tend to provide for
+the gratification of them. Was this seclusion from the world? or did
+they conquer its vanities or avoid its vexations?
+
+In these abodes the unhappy individual, who, in the first paroxysm of
+grief flies to them for refuge, finds too late she took a wrong step.
+The same warmth which determined her will make her repent; and sorrow,
+the rust of the mind, will never have a chance of being rubbed off by
+sensible conversation, or new-born affections of the heart.
+
+She will find that those affections that have once been called forth and
+strengthened by exercise, are only smothered, not killed, by
+disappointment; and that in one form or other discontent will corrode
+the heart, and produce those maladies of the imagination, for which
+there is no specific.
+
+The community at large Mary disliked; but pitied many of them whose
+private distresses she was informed of; and to pity and relieve were the
+same things with her.
+
+The exercise of her various virtues gave vigor to her genius, and
+dignity to her mind; she was sometimes inconsiderate, and violent; but
+never mean or cunning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XIV.
+
+
+The Portuguese are certainly the most uncivilized nation in Europe. Dr.
+Johnson would have said, "They have the least mind.". And can such serve
+their Creator in spirit and in truth? No, the gross ritual of Romish
+ceremonies is all they can comprehend: they can do penance, but not
+conquer their revenge, or lust. Religion, or love, has never humanized
+their hearts; they want the vital part; the mere body worships. Taste is
+unknown; Gothic finery, and unnatural decorations, which they term
+ornaments, are conspicuous in their churches and dress. Reverence for
+mental excellence is only to be found in a polished nation.
+
+Could the contemplation of such a people gratify Mary's heart? No: she
+turned disgusted from the prospects--turned to a man of refinement.
+Henry had been some time ill and low-spirited; Mary would have been
+attentive to any one in that situation; but to him she was particularly
+so; she thought herself bound in gratitude, on account of his constant
+endeavours to amuse Ann, and prevent her dwelling on the dreary prospect
+before her, which sometimes she could not help anticipating with a kind
+of quiet despair.
+
+She found some excuse for going more frequently into the room they all
+met in; nay, she avowed her desire to amuse him: offered to read to him,
+and tried to draw him into amusing conversations; and when she was full
+of these little schemes, she looked at him with a degree of tenderness
+that she was not conscious of. This divided attention was of use to her,
+and prevented her continually thinking of Ann, whose fluctuating
+disorder often gave rise to false hopes.
+
+A trifling thing occurred now which occasioned Mary some uneasiness. Her
+maid, a well-looking girl, had captivated the clerk of a neighbouring
+compting-house. As the match was an advantageous one, Mary could not
+raise any objection to it, though at this juncture it was very
+disagreeable to her to have a stranger about her person. However, the
+girl consented to delay the marriage, as she had some affection for her
+mistress; and, besides, looked forward to Ann's death as a time of
+harvest.
+
+Henry's illness was not alarming, it was rather pleasing, as it gave
+Mary an excuse to herself for shewing him how much she was interested
+about him; and giving little artless proofs of affection, which the
+purity of her heart made her never wish to restrain.
+
+The only visible return he made was not obvious to common observers. He
+would sometimes fix his eyes on her, and take them off with a sigh that
+was coughed away; or when he was leisurely walking into the room, and
+did not expect to see her, he would quicken his steps, and come up to
+her with eagerness to ask some trivial question. In the same style, he
+would try to detain her when he had nothing to say--or said nothing.
+
+Ann did not take notice of either his or Mary's behaviour, nor did she
+suspect that he was a favourite, on any other account than his
+appearing neither well nor happy. She had often seen that when a person
+was unfortunate, Mary's pity might easily be mistaken for love, and,
+indeed, it was a temporary sensation of that kind. Such it was--why it
+was so, let others define, I cannot argue against instincts. As reason
+is cultivated in man, they are supposed to grow weaker, and this may
+have given rise to the assertion, "That as judgment improves, genius
+evaporates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XV.
+
+
+One morning they set out to visit the aqueduct; though the day was very
+fine when they left home, a very heavy shower fell before they reached
+it; they lengthened their ride, the clouds dispersed, and the sun came
+from behind them uncommonly bright.
+
+Mary would fain have persuaded Ann not to have left the carriage; but
+she was in spirits, and obviated all her objections, and insisted on
+walking, tho' the ground was damp. But her strength was not equal to her
+spirits; she was soon obliged to return to the carriage so much
+fatigued, that she fainted, and remained insensible a long time.
+
+Henry would have supported her; but Mary would not permit him; her
+recollection was instantaneous, and she feared sitting on the damp
+ground might do him a material injury: she was on that account positive,
+though the company did not guess the cause of her being so. As to
+herself, she did not fear bodily pain; and, when her mind was agitated,
+she could endure the greatest fatigue without appearing sensible of it.
+
+When Ann recovered, they returned slowly home; she was carried to bed,
+and the next morning Mary thought she observed a visible change for the
+worse. The physician was sent for, who pronounced her to be in the most
+imminent danger.
+
+All Mary's former fears now returned like a torrent, and carried every
+other care away; she even added to her present anguish by upbraiding
+herself for her late tranquillity--it haunted her in the form of a
+crime.
+
+The disorder made the most rapid advances--there was no hope!--Bereft of
+it, Mary again was tranquil; but it was a very different kind of
+tranquillity. She stood to brave the approaching storm, conscious she
+only could be overwhelmed by it.
+
+She did not think of Henry, or if her thoughts glanced towards him, it
+was only to find fault with herself for suffering a thought to have
+strayed from Ann.--Ann!--this dear friend was soon torn from her--she
+died suddenly as Mary was assisting her to walk across the room.--The
+first string was severed from her heart--and this "slow, sudden-death"
+disturbed her reasoning faculties; she seemed stunned by it; unable to
+reflect, or even to feel her misery.
+
+The body was stolen out of the house the second night, and Mary refused
+to see her former companions. She desired her maid to conclude her
+marriage, and request her intended husband to inform her when the first
+merchantman was to leave the port, as the packet had just sailed, and
+she determined not to stay in that hated place any longer than was
+absolutely necessary.
+
+She then sent to request the ladies to visit her; she wished to avoid a
+parade of grief--her sorrows were her own, and appeared to her not to
+admit of increase or softening. She was right; the sight of them did not
+affect her, or turn the stream of her sullen sorrow; the black wave
+rolled along in the same course, it was equal to her where she cast her
+eyes; all was impenetrable gloom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XVI.
+
+
+Soon after the ladies left her, she received a message from Henry,
+requesting, as she saw company, to be permitted to visit her: she
+consented, and he entered immediately, with an unassured pace. She ran
+eagerly up to him--saw the tear trembling in his eye, and his
+countenance softened by the tenderest compassion; the hand which pressed
+hers seemed that of a fellow-creature. She burst into tears; and, unable
+to restrain them, she hid her face with both her hands; these tears
+relieved her, (she had before had a difficulty in breathing,) and she
+sat down by him more composed than she had appeared since Ann's death;
+but her conversation was incoherent.
+
+She called herself "a poor disconsolate creature!"--"Mine is a selfish
+grief," she exclaimed--"Yet; Heaven is my witness, I do not wish her
+back now she has reached those peaceful mansions, where the weary rest.
+Her pure spirit is happy; but what a wretch am I!"
+
+Henry forgot his cautious reserve. "Would you allow me to call you
+friend?" said he in a hesitating voice. "I feel, dear girl, the tendered
+interest in whatever concerns thee." His eyes spoke the rest. They were
+both silent a few moments; then Henry resumed the conversation. "I have
+also been acquainted with grief! I mourn the loss of a woman who was not
+worthy of my regard. Let me give thee some account of the man who now
+solicits thy friendship; and who, from motives of the purest
+benevolence, wishes to give comfort to thy wounded heart."
+
+"I have myself," said he, mournfully, "shaken hands with happiness, and
+am dead to the world; I wait patiently for my dissolution; but, for
+thee, Mary, there may be many bright days in store."
+
+"Impossible," replied she, in a peevish tone, as if he had insulted her
+by the supposition; her feelings were so much in unison with his, that
+she was in love with misery.
+
+He smiled at her impatience, and went on. "My father died before I knew
+him, and my mother was so attached to my eldest brother, that she took
+very little pains to fit me for the profession to which I was destined:
+and, may I tell thee, I left my family, and, in many different stations,
+rambled about the world; saw mankind in every rank of life; and, in
+order to be independent, exerted those talents Nature has given me:
+these exertions improved my understanding; and the miseries I was
+witness to, gave a keener edge to my sensibility. My constitution is
+naturally weak; and, perhaps, two or three lingering disorders in my
+youth, first gave me a habit of reflecting, and enabled me to obtain
+some dominion over my passions. At least," added he, stifling a sigh,
+"over the violent ones, though I fear, refinement and reflection only
+renders the tender ones more tyrannic.
+
+"I have told you already I have been in love, and disappointed--the
+object is now no more; let her faults sleep with her! Yet this passion
+has pervaded my whole soul, and mixed itself with all my affections and
+pursuits.--I am not peacefully indifferent; yet it is only to my violin
+I tell the sorrows I now confide with thee. The object I loved forfeited
+my esteem; yet, true to the sentiment, my fancy has too frequently
+delighted to form a creature that I could love, that could convey to my
+soul sensations which the gross part of mankind have not any conception
+of."
+
+He stopped, as Mary seemed lost in thought; but as she was still in a
+listening attitude, continued his little narrative. "I kept up an
+irregular correspondence with my mother; my brother's extravagance and
+ingratitude had almost broken her heart, and made her feel something
+like a pang of remorse, on account of her behaviour to me. I hastened to
+comfort her--and was a comfort to her.
+
+"My declining health prevented my taking orders, as I had intended; but
+I with warmth entered into literary pursuits; perhaps my heart, not
+having an object, made me embrace the substitute with more eagerness.
+But, do not imagine I have always been a die-away swain. No: I have
+frequented the cheerful haunts of men, and wit!--enchanting wit! has
+made many moments fly free from care. I am too fond of the elegant arts;
+and woman--lovely woman! thou hast charmed me, though, perhaps, it would
+not be easy to find one to whom my reason would allow me to be constant.
+
+"I have now only to tell you, that my mother insisted on my spending
+this winter in a warmer climate; and I fixed on Lisbon, as I had before
+visited the Continent." He then looked Mary full in the face; and, with
+the most insinuating accents, asked "if he might hope for her
+friendship? If she would rely on him as if he was her father; and that
+the tenderest father could not more anxiously interest himself in the
+fate of a darling child, than he did in her's."
+
+Such a crowd of thoughts all at once rushed into Mary's mind, that she
+in vain attempted to express the sentiments which were most predominant.
+Her heart longed to receive a new guest; there was a void in it:
+accustomed to have some one to love, she was alone, and comfortless, if
+not engrossed by a particular affection.
+
+Henry saw her distress, and not to increase it, left the room. He had
+exerted himself to turn her thoughts into a new channel, and had
+succeeded; she thought of him till she began to chide herself for
+defrauding the dead, and, determining to grieve for Ann, she dwelt on
+Henry's misfortunes and ill health; and the interest he took in her fate
+was a balm to her sick mind. She did not reason on the subject; but she
+felt he was attached to her: lost in this delirium, she never asked
+herself what kind of an affection she had for him, or what it tended to;
+nor did she know that love and friendship are very distinct; she thought
+with rapture, that there was one person in the world who had an
+affection for her, and that person she admired--had a friendship for.
+
+He had called her his dear girl; the words might have fallen from him by
+accident; but they did not fall to the ground. My child! His child,
+what an association of ideas! If I had had a father, such a father!--She
+could not dwell on the thoughts, the wishes which obtruded themselves.
+Her mind was unhinged, and passion unperceived filled her whole soul.
+Lost, in waking dreams, she considered and reconsidered Henry's account
+of himself; till she actually thought she would tell Ann--a bitter
+recollection then roused her out of her reverie; and aloud she begged
+forgiveness of her.
+
+By these kind of conflicts the day was lengthened; and when she went to
+bed, the night passed away in feverish slumbers; though they did not
+refresh her, she was spared the labour of thinking, of restraining her
+imagination; it sported uncontrouled; but took its colour from her
+waking train of thoughts. One instant she was supporting her dying
+mother; then Ann was breathing her last, and Henry was comforting her.
+
+The unwelcome light visited her languid eyes; yet, I must tell the
+truth, she thought she should see Henry, and this hope set her spirits
+in motion: but they were quickly depressed by her maid, who came to tell
+her that she had heard of a vessel on board of which she could be
+accommodated, and that there was to be another female passenger on
+board, a vulgar one; but perhaps she would be more useful on that
+account--Mary did not want a companion.
+
+As she had given orders for her passage to be engaged in the first
+vessel that sailed, she could not now retract; and must prepare for the
+lonely voyage, as the Captain intended taking advantage of the first
+fair wind. She had too much strength of mind to waver in her
+determination but to determine wrung her very heart, opened all her old
+wounds, and made them bleed afresh. What was she to do? where go? Could
+she set a seal to a hasty vow, and tell a deliberate lie; promise to
+love one man, when the image of another was ever present to her--her
+soul revolted. "I might gain the applause of the world by such mock
+heroism; but should I not forfeit my own? forfeit thine, my father!"
+
+There is a solemnity in the shortest ejaculation, which, for a while,
+stills the tumult of passion. Mary's mind had been thrown off its poise;
+her devotion had been, perhaps, more fervent for some time past; but
+less regular. She forgot that happiness was not to be found on earth,
+and built a terrestrial paradise liable to be destroyed by the first
+serious thought: when, she reasoned she became inexpressibly sad, to
+render life bearable she gave way to fancy--this was madness.
+
+In a few days she must again go to sea; the weather was very
+tempestuous--what of that, the tempest in her soul rendered every other
+trifling--it was not the contending elements, but _herself_ she feared!
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XVII.
+
+
+In order to gain strength to support the expected interview, she went
+out in a carriage. The day was fine; but all nature was to her a
+universal blank; she could neither enjoy it, nor weep that she could
+not. She passed by the ruins of an old monastery on a very high hill she
+got out to walk amongst the ruins; the wind blew violently, she did not
+avoid its fury, on the contrary, wildly bid it blow on, and seemed glad
+to contend with it, or rather walk against it. Exhausted she returned to
+the carriage was soon at home, and in the old room.
+
+Henry started at the sight of her altered appearance; the day before her
+complexion had been of the most pallid hue; but now her cheeks were
+flushed, and her eyes enlivened with a false vivacity, an unusual fire.
+He was not well, his illness was apparent in his countenance, and he
+owned he had not closed his eyes all night; this roused her dormant
+tenderness, she forgot they were so soon to part-engrossed by the
+present happiness of seeing, of hearing him.
+
+Once or twice she essayed to tell him that she was, in a few days, to
+depart; but she could not; she was irresolute; it will do to-morrow;
+should the wind change they could not sail in such a hurry; thus she
+thought, and insensibly grew more calm. The Ladies prevailed on her to
+spend the evening with them; but she retired very early to rest, and sat
+on the side of her bed several hours, then threw herself on it, and
+waited for the dreaded to-morrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XVIII.
+
+
+The ladies heard that her servant was to be married that day, and that
+she was to sail in the vessel which was then clearing out at the
+Custom-house. Henry heard, but did not make any remarks; and Mary called
+up all her fortitude to support her, and enable her to hide from the
+females her internal struggles. She durst not encounter Henry's glances
+when she found he had been informed of her intention; and, trying to
+draw a veil over her wretched state of mind, she talked incessantly, she
+knew not what; flashes of wit burst from her, and when she began to
+laugh she could not stop herself.
+
+Henry smiled at some of her sallies, and looked at her with such
+benignity and compassion, that he recalled her scattered thoughts; and,
+the ladies going to dress for dinner, they were left alone; and remained
+silent a few moments: after the noisy conversation it appeared solemn.
+Henry began. "You are going, Mary, and going by yourself; your mind is
+not in a state to be left to its own operations--yet I cannot, dissuade
+you; if I attempted to do it, I should ill deserve the title I wish to
+merit. I only think of your happiness; could I obey the strongest
+impulse of my heart, I should accompany thee to England; but such a step
+might endanger your future peace."
+
+Mary, then, with all the frankness which marked her character, explained
+her situation to him and mentioned her fatal tie with such disgust that
+he trembled for her. "I cannot see him; he is not the man formed for me
+to love!" Her delicacy did not restrain her, for her dislike to her
+husband had taken root in her mind long before she knew Henry. Did she
+not fix on Lisbon rather than France on purpose to avoid him? and if Ann
+had been in tolerable health she would have flown with her to some
+remote corner to have escaped from him.
+
+"I intend," said Henry, "to follow you in the next packet; where shall I
+hear of your health?" "Oh! let me hear of thine," replied Mary. "I am
+well, very well; but thou art very ill--thy health is in the most
+precarious state." She then mentioned her intention of going to Ann's
+relations. "I am her representative, I have duties to fulfil for her:
+during my voyage I have time enough for reflection; though I think I
+have already determined."
+
+"Be not too hasty, my child," interrupted Henry; "far be it from me to
+persuade thee to do violence to thy feelings--but consider that all thy
+future life may probably take its colour from thy present mode of
+conduct. Our affections as well as our sentiments are fluctuating; you
+will not perhaps always either think or feel as you do at present: the
+object you now shun may appear in a different light." He paused. "In
+advising thee in this style, I have only thy good at heart, Mary."
+
+She only answered to expostulate. "My affections are involuntary--yet
+they can only be fixed by reflection, and when they are they make quite
+a part of my soul, are interwoven in it, animate my actions, and form
+my taste: certain qualities are calculated to call forth my sympathies,
+and make me all I am capable of being. The governing affection gives its
+stamp to the rest--because I am capable of loving one, I have that kind
+of charity to all my fellow-creatures which is not easily provoked.
+Milton has asserted, That earthly love is the scale by which to heavenly
+we may ascend."
+
+She went on with eagerness. "My opinions on some subjects are not
+wavering; my pursuit through life has ever been the same: in solitude
+were my sentiments formed; they are indelible, and nothing can efface
+them but death--No, death itself cannot efface them, or my soul must be
+created afresh, and not improved. Yet a little while am I parted from
+my Ann--I could not exist without the hope of seeing her again--I could
+not bear to think that time could wear away an affection that was
+founded on what is not liable to perish; you might as well attempt to
+persuade me that my soul is matter, and that its feelings arose from
+certain modifications of it."
+
+"Dear enthusiastic creature," whispered Henry, "how you steal into my
+soul." She still continued. "The same turn of mind which leads me to
+adore the Author of all Perfection--which leads me to conclude that he
+only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image-the shadows
+of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder
+strokes to them. I knew I am in some degree under the influence of a
+delusion--but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself 'am _of
+subtiler essence than the trodden clod_' these flights of the
+imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them. Every cause in
+nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule?
+have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they
+never be gratified? shall I never be happy? My feelings do not accord
+with the notion of solitary happiness. In a state of bliss, it will be
+the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly
+infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great
+part of our happiness.
+
+"With these notions can I conform to the maxims of worldly wisdom? can
+I listen to the cold dictates of worldly prudence and bid my tumultuous
+passions cease to vex me, be still, find content in grovelling pursuits,
+and the admiration of the misjudging crowd, when it is only one I wish
+to please--one who could be all the world to me. Argue not with me, I am
+bound by human ties; but did my spirit ever promise to love, or could I
+consider when forced to bind myself--to take a vow, that at the awful
+day of judgment I must give an account of. My conscience does not smite
+me, and that Being who is greater than the internal monitor, may approve
+of what the world condemns; sensible that in Him I live, could I brave
+His presence, or hope in solitude to find peace, if I acted contrary to
+conviction, that the world might approve of my conduct--what could the
+world give to compensate for my own esteem? it is ever hostile and armed
+against the feeling heart!
+
+"Riches and honours await me, and the cold moralist might desire me to
+sit down and enjoy them--I cannot conquer my feelings, and till I do,
+what are these baubles to me? you may tell me I follow a fleeting good,
+an _ignis fatuus_; but this chase, these struggles prepare me for
+eternity--when I no longer see through a glass darkly I shall not reason
+about, but _feel_ in what happiness consists."
+
+Henry had not attempted to interrupt her; he saw she was determined, and
+that these sentiments were not the effusion of the moment, but well
+digested ones, the result of strong affections, a high sense of honour,
+and respect for the source of all virtue and truth. He was startled, if
+not entirely convinced by her arguments; indeed her voice, her gestures
+were all persuasive.
+
+Some one now entered the room; he looked an answer to her long harangue;
+it was fortunate for him, or he might have been led to say what in a
+cooler moment he had determined to conceal; but were words necessary to
+reveal it? He wished not to influence her conduct--vain precaution; she
+knew she was beloved; and could she forget that such a man loved her, or
+rest satisfied with any inferior gratification. When passion first
+enters the heart, it is only a return of affection that is sought after,
+and every other remembrance and wish is blotted out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XIX.
+
+
+Two days passed away without any particular conversation; Henry, trying
+to be indifferent, or to appear so, was more assiduous than ever. The
+conflict was too violent for his present state of health; the spirit was
+willing, but the body suffered; he lost his appetite, and looked
+wretchedly; his spirits were calmly low--the world seemed to fade
+away--what was that world to him that Mary did not inhabit; she lived
+not for him.
+
+He was mistaken; his affection was her only support; without this dear
+prop she had sunk into the grave of her lost--long-loved friend;--his
+attention snatched her from despair. Inscrutable are the ways of
+Heaven!
+
+The third day Mary was desired to prepare herself; for if the wind
+continued in the same point, they should set sail the next evening. She
+tried to prepare her mind, and her efforts were not useless she appeared
+less agitated than could have been expected, and talked of her voyage
+with composure. On great occasions she was generally calm and collected,
+her resolution would brace her unstrung nerves; but after the victory
+she had no triumph; she would sink into a state of moping melancholy,
+and feel ten-fold misery when the heroic enthusiasm was over.
+
+The morning of the day fixed on for her departure she was alone with
+Henry only a few moments, and an awkward kind of formality made them
+slip away without their having said much to each other. Henry was
+afraid to discover his passion, or give any other name to his regard but
+friendship; yet his anxious solicitude for her welfare was ever breaking
+out-while she as artlessly expressed again and again, her fears with
+respect to his declining health.
+
+"We shall soon meet," said he, with a faint smile; Mary smiled too; she
+caught the sickly beam; it was still fainter by being reflected, and not
+knowing what she wished to do, started up and left the room. When she
+was alone she regretted she had left him so precipitately. "The few
+precious moments I have thus thrown away may never return," she
+thought-the reflection led to misery.
+
+She waited for, nay, almost wished for the summons to depart. She could
+not avoid spending the intermediate time with the ladies and Henry; and
+the trivial conversations she was obliged to bear a part in harassed her
+more than can be well conceived.
+
+The summons came, and the whole party attended her to the vessel. For a
+while the remembrance of Ann banished her regret at parting with Henry,
+though his pale figure pressed on her sight; it may seem a paradox, but
+he was more present to her when she sailed; her tears then were all his
+own.
+
+"My poor Ann!" thought Mary, "along this road we came, and near this
+spot you called me your guardian angel--and now I leave thee here! ah!
+no, I do not--thy spirit is not confined to its mouldering tenement!
+Tell me, thou soul of her I love, tell me, ah! whither art thou fled?"
+Ann occupied her until they reached the ship.
+
+The anchor was weighed. Nothing can be more irksome than waiting to say
+farewel. As the day was serene, they accompanied her a little way, and
+then got into the boat; Henry was the last; he pressed her hand, it had
+not any life in it; she leaned over the side of the ship without looking
+at the boat, till it was so far distant, that she could not see the
+countenances of those that were in it: a mist spread itself over her
+sight--she longed to exchange one look--tried to recollect the
+last;--the universe contained no being but Henry!--The grief of parting
+with him had swept all others clean away. Her eyes followed the keel of
+the boat, and when she could no longer perceive its traces: she looked
+round on the wide waste of waters, thought of the precious moments
+which had been stolen from the waste of murdered time.
+
+She then descended into the cabin, regardless of the surrounding
+beauties of nature, and throwing herself on her bed in the little hole
+which was called the state-room--she wished to forget her existence. On
+this bed she remained two days, listening to the dashing waves, unable
+to close her eyes. A small taper made the darkness visible; and the
+third night, by its glimmering light, she wrote the following fragment.
+
+"Poor solitary wretch that I am; here alone do I listen to the whistling
+winds and dashing waves;--on no human support can I rest--when not lost
+to hope I found pleasure in the society of those rough beings; but now
+they appear not like my fellow creatures; no social ties draw me to
+them. How long, how dreary has this day been; yet I scarcely wish it
+over--for what will to-morrow bring--to-morrow, and to-morrow will only
+be marked with unvaried characters of wretchedness.--Yet surely, I am
+not alone!"
+
+Her moistened eyes were lifted up to heaven; a crowd of thoughts darted
+into her mind, and pressing her hand against her forehead, as if to bear
+the intellectual weight, she tried, but tried in vain, to arrange them.
+"Father of Mercies, compose this troubled spirit: do I indeed wish it to
+be composed--to forget my Henry?" the _my_, the pen was directly drawn
+across in an agony.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XX.
+
+
+The mate of the ship, who heard her stir, came to offer her some
+refreshment; and she, who formerly received every offer of kindness or
+civility with pleasure, now shrunk away disgusted: peevishly she desired
+him not to disturb her; but the words were hardly articulated when her
+heart smote her, she called him back, and requested something to drink.
+After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she fell into a
+death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on
+the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.
+
+The wind still continued contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she
+struggled with her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever,
+which sometimes gave her false spirits.
+
+The winds then became very tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and
+all the passengers appalled. Mary then left her bed, and went on deck,
+to survey the contending elements: the scene accorded with the present
+state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I may go home; the
+prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and descended into a
+yawning gulph--Not slower did her mounting soul return to earth,
+for--Ah! her treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled
+amongst the sails, which were quickly taken down; the wind would then
+die away, and the wild undirected waves rushed on every side with a
+tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the midst of such a storm she
+was not dismayed; she felt herself independent.
+
+Just then one of the crew perceived a signal of distress; by the help of
+a glass he could plainly discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted
+about, for the rudder had been broken by the violence of the storm.
+Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by the crew on the brink of
+destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached it, and hailed
+the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting, loud
+cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and
+with ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched
+their boat in a moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the
+sea. Stowed between two casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the
+boat, and when a wave intercepted it from her view--she ceased to
+breathe, or rather held her breath until it rose again.
+
+At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the
+poor trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in
+thanking that gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still
+the raging of the sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.
+
+Amongst the wretched crew was one poor woman, who fainted when she was
+hauled on board: Mary undressed her, and when she had recovered, and
+soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she required to recruit her
+strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned again to view the
+angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she thought of
+the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise of
+the sea; and the madness of the people--He only could speak peace to
+her troubled spirit! she grew more calm; the late transaction had
+gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of herself.
+
+One of the sailors, happening to say to another, "that he believed the
+world was going to be at an end;" this observation led her into a new
+train of thoughts: some of Handel's sublime compositions occurred to
+her, and she sung them to the grand accompaniment. The Lord God
+Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and ever!--Why then did
+she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew that He would
+bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of great
+tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
+was now her only confident. It was after midnight.
+
+"At this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the
+day of retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed;
+when all worldly distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I
+have not words to express the sublime images which the bare
+contemplation of this awful day raises in my mind. Then, indeed, the
+Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the tearful eye, and
+support the trembling heart--yet a little while He hideth his face, and
+the dun shades of sorrow, and the thick clouds of folly separate us from
+our God; but when the glad dawn of an eternal day breaks, we shall know
+even as we are known. Here we walk by faith, and not by sight; and we
+have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures of life which are
+but for a season, or look forward to the prize of our high calling, and
+with fortitude, and that wisdom which is from above, endeavour to bear
+the warfare of life. We know that many run the race; but he that
+striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one! How
+many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
+garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever
+lead into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing
+like happiness is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to
+pluck the fruit of immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
+guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will
+again be opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, farewel! and yet I
+cannot banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and
+live in futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.--I try
+to pierce the gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of
+knowledge will be gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to
+fix them. Every thing material must change; happiness and this
+fluctating principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality, and
+happiness,--what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
+conceptions ye create?"
+
+After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the
+Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXI.
+
+
+Mary rose early, refreshed by the seasonable rest, and went to visit the
+poor woman, whom she found quite recovered: and, on enquiry, heard that
+she had lately buried her husband, a common sailor; and that her only
+surviving child had been washed over-board the day before. Full of her
+own danger, she scarcely thought of her child till that was over; and
+then she gave way to boisterous emotions.
+
+Mary endeavoured to calm her at first, by sympathizing with her; and she
+tried to point out the only solid source of comfort but in doing this
+she encountered many difficulties; she found her grossly ignorant, yet
+she did not despair: and as the poor creature could not receive comfort
+from the operations of her own mind, she laboured to beguile the hours,
+which grief made heavy, by adapting her conversation to her capacity.
+
+There are many minds that only receive impressions through the medium of
+the senses: to them did Mary address herself; she made her some
+presents, and promised to assist her when they should arrive in England.
+This employment roused her out of her late stupor, and again set the
+faculties of her soul in motion; made the understanding contend with the
+imagination, and the heart throbbed not so irregularly during the
+contention. How short-lived was the calm! when the English coast was
+descried, her sorrows returned with redoubled vigor.--She was to visit
+and comfort the mother of her lost friend--And where then should she
+take up her residence? These thoughts suspended the exertions of her
+understanding; abstracted reflections gave way to alarming
+apprehensions; and tenderness undermined fortitude.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXII.
+
+
+In England then landed the forlorn wanderer. She looked round for some
+few moments--her affections were not attracted to any particular part of
+the Island. She knew none of the inhabitants of the vast city to which
+she was going: the mass of buildings appeared to her a huge body without
+an informing soul. As she passed through the streets in an
+hackney-coach, disgust and horror alternately filled her mind. She met
+some women drunk; and the manners of those who attacked the sailors,
+made her shrink into herself, and exclaim, are these my fellow
+creatures!
+
+Detained by a number of carts near the water-side, for she came up the
+river in the vessel, not having reason to hasten on shore, she saw
+vulgarity, dirt, and vice--her soul sickened; this was the first time
+such complicated misery obtruded itself on her sight.--Forgetting her
+own griefs, she gave the world a much indebted tear; mourned for a world
+in ruins. She then perceived, that great part of her comfort must arise
+from viewing the smiling face of nature, and be reflected from the view
+of innocent enjoyments: she was fond of seeing animals play, and could
+not bear to see her own species sink below them.
+
+In a little dwelling in one of the villages near London, lived the
+mother of Ann; two of her children still remained with her; but they did
+not resemble Ann. To her house Mary directed the coach, and told the
+unfortunate mother of her loss. The poor woman, oppressed by it, and her
+many other cares, after an inundation of tears, began to enumerate all
+her past misfortunes, and present cares. The heavy tale lasted until
+midnight, and the impression it made on Mary's mind was so strong, that
+it banished sleep till towards morning; when tired nature sought
+forgetfulness, and the soul ceased to ruminate about many things.
+
+She sent for the poor woman they took up at sea, provided her a lodging,
+and relieved her present necessities. A few days were spent in a kind of
+listless way; then the mother of Ann began to enquire when she thought
+of returning home. She had hitherto treated her with the greatest
+respect, and concealed her wonder at Mary's choosing a remote room in
+the house near the garden, and ordering some alterations to be made, as
+if she intended living in it.
+
+Mary did not choose to explain herself; had Ann lived, it is probable
+she would never have loved Henry so fondly; but if she had, she could
+not have talked of her passion to any human creature. She deliberated,
+and at last informed the family, that she had a reason for not living
+with her husband, which must some time remain a secret--they stared--Not
+live with him! how will you live then? This was a question she could not
+answer; she had only about eighty pounds remaining, of the money she
+took with her to Lisbon; when it was exhausted where could she get more?
+I will work, she cried, do any thing rather than be a slave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXIII.
+
+
+Unhappy, she wandered about the village, and relieved the poor; it was
+the only employment that eased her aching heart; she became more
+intimate with misery--the misery that rises from poverty and the want of
+education. She was in the vicinity of a great city; the vicious poor in
+and about it must ever grieve a benevolent contemplative mind.
+
+One evening a man who stood weeping in a little lane, near the house she
+resided in, caught her eye. She accosted him; in a confused manner, he
+informed her, that his wife was dying, and his children crying for the
+bread he could not earn. Mary desired to be conducted to his
+habitation; it was not very distant, and was the upper room in an old
+mansion-house, which had been once the abode of luxury. Some tattered
+shreds of rich hangings still remained, covered with cobwebs and filth;
+round the ceiling, through which the rain drop'd, was a beautiful
+cornice mouldering; and a spacious gallery was rendered dark by the
+broken windows being blocked up; through the apertures the wind forced
+its way in hollow sounds, and reverberated along the former scene of
+festivity.
+
+It was crowded with inhabitants: som were scolding, others swearing, or
+singing indecent songs. What a sight for Mary! Her blood ran cold; yet
+she had sufficient resolution to mount to the top of the house. On the
+floor, in one corner of a very small room, lay an emaciated figure of a
+woman; a window over her head scarcely admitted any light, for the
+broken panes were stuffed with dirty rags. Near her were five children,
+all young, and covered with dirt; their sallow cheeks, and languid eyes,
+exhibited none of the charms of childhood. Some were fighting, and
+others crying for food; their yells were mixed with their mother's
+groans, and the wind which rushed through the passage. Mary was
+petrified; but soon assuming more courage, approached the bed, and,
+regardless of the surrounding nastiness, knelt down by the poor wretch,
+and breathed the most poisonous air; for the unfortunate creature was
+dying of a putrid fever, the consequence of dirt and want.
+
+Their state did not require much explanation. Mary sent the husband for
+a poor neighbour, whom she hired to nurse the woman, and take care of
+the children; and then went herself to buy them some necessaries at a
+shop not far distant. Her knowledge of physic had enabled her to
+prescribe for the woman; and she left the house, with a mixture of
+horror and satisfaction.
+
+She visited them every day, and procured them every comfort; contrary to
+her expectation, the woman began to recover; cleanliness and wholesome
+food had a wonderful effect; and Mary saw her rising as it were from the
+grave. Not aware of the danger she ran into, she did not think of it
+till she perceived she had caught the fever. It made such an alarming
+progress, that she was prevailed on to send for a physician; but the
+disorder was so violent, that for some days it baffled his skill; and
+Mary felt not her danger, as she was delirious. After the crisis, the
+symptoms were more favourable, and she slowly recovered, without
+regaining much strength or spirits; indeed they were intolerably low:
+she wanted a tender nurse.
+
+For some time she had observed, that she was not treated with the same
+respect as formerly; her favors were forgotten when no more were
+expected. This ingratitude hurt her, as did a similar instance in the
+woman who came out of the ship. Mary had hitherto supported her; as her
+finances were growing low, she hinted to her, that she ought to try to
+earn her own subsistence: the woman in return loaded her with abuse.
+
+Two months were elapsed; she had not seen, or heard from Henry. He was
+sick--nay, perhaps had forgotten her; all the world was dreary, and all
+the people ungrateful.
+
+She sunk into apathy, and endeavouring to rouse herself out of it, she
+wrote in her book another fragment:
+
+"Surely life is a dream, a frightful one! and after those rude,
+disjointed images are fled, will light ever break in? Shall I ever feel
+joy? Do all suffer like me; or am I framed so as to be particularly
+susceptible of misery? It is true, I have experienced the most rapturous
+emotions--short-lived delight!--ethereal beam, which only serves to shew
+my present misery--yet lie still, my throbbing heart, or burst; and my
+brain--why dost thou whirl about at such a terrifying rate? why do
+thoughts so rapidly rush into my mind, and yet when they disappear
+leave such deep traces? I could almost wish for the madman's happiness,
+and in a strong imagination lose a sense of woe.
+
+"Oh! reason, thou boasted guide, why desert me, like the world, when I
+most need thy assistance! Canst thou not calm this internal tumult, and
+drive away the death-like sadness which presses so sorely on me,--a
+sadness surely very nearly allied to despair. I am now the prey of
+apathy--I could wish for the former storms! a ray of hope sometimes
+illumined my path; I had a pursuit; but now _it visits not my haunts
+forlorn_. Too well have I loved my fellow creatures! I have been wounded
+by ingratitude; from every one it has something of the serpent's tooth.
+
+"When overwhelmed by sorrow, I have met unkindness; I looked for some
+one to have pity on me; but found none!--The healing balm of sympathy is
+denied; I weep, a solitary wretch, and the hot tears scald my cheeks. I
+have not the medicine of life, the dear chimera I have so often chased,
+a friend. Shade of my loved Ann! dost thou ever visit thy poor Mary?
+Refined spirit, thou wouldst weep, could angels weep, to see her
+struggling with passions she cannot subdue; and feelings which corrode
+her small portion of comfort!"
+
+She could not write any more; she wished herself far distant from all
+human society; a thick gloom spread itself over her mind: but did not
+make her forget the very beings she wished to fly from. She sent for the
+poor woman she found in the garret; gave her money to clothe herself
+and children, and buy some furniture for a little hut, in a large
+garden, the master of which agreed to employ her husband, who had been
+bred a gardener. Mary promised to visit the family, and see their new
+abode when she was able to go out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXIV.
+
+
+Mary still continued weak and low, though it was spring, and all nature
+began to look gay; with more than usual brightness the sun shone, and a
+little robin which she had cherished during the winter sung one of his
+best songs. The family were particularly civil this fine morning, and
+tried to prevail on her to walk out. Any thing like kindness melted her;
+she consented.
+
+Softer emotions banished her melancholy, and she directed her steps to
+the habitation she had rendered comfortable.
+
+Emerging out of a dreary chamber, all nature looked cheerful; when she
+had last walked out, snow covered the ground, and bleak winds pierced
+her through and through: now the hedges were green, the blossoms adorned
+the trees, and the birds sung. She reached the dwelling, without being
+much exhausted and while she rested there, observed the children
+sporting on the grass, with improved complexions. The mother with tears
+thanked her deliverer, and pointed out her comforts. Mary's tears flowed
+not only from sympathy, but a complication of feelings and recollections
+the affections which bound her to her fellow creatures began again to
+play, and reanimated nature. She observed the change in herself, tried
+to account for it, and wrote with her pencil a rhapsody on sensibility.
+
+"Sensibility is the most exquisite feeling of which the human soul is
+susceptible: when it pervades us, we feel happy; and could it last
+unmixed, we might form some conjecture of the bliss of those
+paradisiacal days, when the obedient passions were under the dominion of
+reason, and the impulses of the heart did not need correction.
+
+"It is this quickness, this delicacy of feeling, which enables us to
+relish the sublime touches of the poet, and the painter; it is this,
+which expands the soul, gives an enthusiastic greatness, mixed with
+tenderness, when we view the magnificent objects of nature; or hear of a
+good action. The same effect we experience in the spring, when we hail
+the returning sun, and the consequent renovation of nature; when the
+flowers unfold themselves, and exhale their sweets, and the voice of
+music is heard in the land. Softened by tenderness; the soul is
+disposed to be virtuous. Is any sensual gratification to be compared to
+that of feelings the eves moistened after having comforted the
+unfortunate?
+
+"Sensibility is indeed the foundation of all our happiness; but these
+raptures are unknown to the depraved sensualist, who is only moved by
+what strikes his gross senses; the delicate embellishments of nature
+escape his notice; as do the gentle and interesting affections.--But it
+is only to be felt; it escapes discussion."
+
+She then returned home, and partook of the family meal, which was
+rendered more cheerful by the presence of a man, past the meridian of
+life, of polished manners, and dazzling wit. He endeavoured to draw Mary
+out, and succeeded; she entered into conversation, and some of her
+artless flights of genius struck him with surprise; he found she had a
+capacious mind, and that her reason was as profound as her imagination
+was lively. She glanced from earth to heaven, and caught the light of
+truth. Her expressive countenance shewed what passed in her mind, and
+her tongue was ever the faithful interpreter of her heart; duplicity
+never threw a shade over her words or actions. Mary found him a man of
+learning; and the exercise of her understanding would frequently make
+her forget her griefs, when nothing else could, except benevolence.
+
+This man had known the mistress of the house in her youth; good nature
+induced him to visit her; but when he saw Mary he had another
+inducement. Her appearance, and above all, her genius, and cultivation
+of mind, roused his curiosity; but her dignified manners had such an
+effect on him, he was obliged to suppress it. He knew men, as well as
+books; his conversation was entertaining and improving. In Mary's
+company he doubted whether heaven was peopled with spirits masculine;
+and almost forgot that he had called the sex "the pretty play things
+that render life tolerable."
+
+He had been the slave of beauty, the captive of sense; love he ne'er had
+felt; the mind never rivetted the chain, nor had the purity of it made
+the body appear lovely in his eyes. He was humane, despised meanness;
+but was vain of his abilities, and by no means a useful member of
+society. He talked often of the beauty of virtue; but not having any
+solid foundation to build the practice on, he was only a shining, or
+rather a sparkling character: and though his fortune enabled him to
+hunt down pleasure, he was discontented.
+
+Mary observed his character, and wrote down a train of reflections,
+which these observations led her to make; these reflections received a
+tinge from her mind; the present state of it, was that kind of painful
+quietness which arises from reason clouded by disgust; she had not yet
+learned to be resigned; vague hopes agitated her.
+
+"There are some subjects that are so enveloped in clouds, as you
+dissipate one, another overspreads it. Of this kind are our reasonings
+concerning happiness; till we are obliged to cry out with the Apostle,
+_That it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive in what it
+could consist_, or how satiety could be prevented. Man seems formed for
+action, though the passions are seldom properly managed; they are
+either so languid as not to serve as a spur, or else so violent, as to
+overleap all bounds.
+
+"Every individual has its own peculiar trials; and anguish, in one shape
+or other, visits every heart. Sensibility produces flights of virtue;
+and not curbed by reason, is on the brink of vice talking, and even
+thinking of virtue.
+
+"Christianity can only afford just principles to govern the wayward
+feelings and impulses of the heart: every good disposition runs wild, if
+not transplanted into this soil; but how hard is it to keep the heart
+diligently, though convinced that the issues of life depend on it.
+
+"It is very difficult to discipline the mind of a thinker, or reconcile
+him to the weakness, the inconsistency of his understanding; and a
+still more laborious task for him to conquer his passions, and learn to
+seek content, instead of happiness. Good dispositions, and virtuous
+propensities, without the light of the Gospel, produce eccentric
+characters: comet-like, they are always in extremes; while revelation
+resembles the laws of attraction, and produces uniformity; but too often
+is the attraction feeble; and the light so obscured by passion, as to
+force the bewildered soul to fly into void space, and wander in
+confusion."
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXV.
+
+
+A few mornings after, as Mary was sitting ruminating, harassed by
+perplexing thoughts, and fears, a letter was delivered to her: the
+servant waited for an answer. Her heart palpitated; it was from Henry;
+she held it some time in her hand, then tore it open; it was not a long
+one; and only contained an account of a relapse, which prevented his
+sailing in the first packet, as he had intended. Some tender enquiries
+were added, concerning her health, and state of mind; but they were
+expressed in rather a formal style: it vexed her, and the more so, as it
+stopped the current of affection, which the account of his arrival and
+illness had made flow to her heart--it ceased to beat for a moment--she
+read the passage over again; but could not tell what she was hurt
+by--only that it did not answer the expectations of her affection. She
+wrote a laconic, incoherent note in return, allowing him to call on her
+the next day--he had requested permission at the conclusion of his
+letter.
+
+Her mind was then painfully active; she could not read or walk; she
+tried to fly from herself, to forget the long hours that were yet to run
+before to-morrow could arrive: she knew not what time he would come;
+certainly in the morning, she concluded; the morning then was anxiously
+wished for; and every wish produced a sigh, that arose from expectation
+on the stretch, damped by fear and vain regret.
+
+To beguile the tedious time, Henry's favorite tunes were sung; the books
+they read together turned over; and the short epistle read at least a
+hundred times.--Any one who had seen her, would have supposed that she
+was trying to decypher Chinese characters.
+
+After a sleepless night, she hailed the tardy day, watched the rising
+sun, and then listened for every footstep, and started if she heard the
+street door opened. At last he came, and she who had been counting the
+hours, and doubting whether the earth moved, would gladly have escaped
+the approaching interview.
+
+With an unequal, irresolute pace, she went to meet him; but when she
+beheld his emaciated countenance, all the tenderness, which the
+formality of his letter had damped, returned, and a mournful
+presentiment stilled the internal conflict. She caught his hand, and
+looking wistfully at him, exclaimed, "Indeed, you are not well!"
+
+"I am very far from well; but it matters not," added he with a smile of
+resignation; "my native air may work wonders, and besides, my mother is
+a tender nurse, and I shall sometimes see thee."
+
+Mary felt for the first time in her life, envy; she wished
+involuntarily, that all the comfort he received should be from her. She
+enquired about the symptoms of his disorder; and heard that he had been
+very ill; she hastily drove away the fears, that former dear bought
+experience suggested: and again and again did she repeat, that she was
+sure he would soon recover. She would then look in his face, to see if
+he assented, and ask more questions to the same purport. She tried to
+avoid speaking of herself, and Henry left her, with, a promise of
+visiting her the next day.
+
+Her mind was now engrossed by one fear--yet she would not allow herself
+to think that she feared an event she could not name. She still saw his
+pale face; the sound of his voice still vibrated on her ears; she tried
+to retain it; she listened, looked round, wept, and prayed.
+
+Henry had enlightened the desolate scene: was this charm of life to fade
+away, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck
+behind? These thoughts disturbed her reason, she shook her head, as if
+to drive them out of it; a weight, a heavy one, was on her heart; all
+was not well there.
+
+Out of this reverie she was soon woke to keener anguish, by the arrival
+of a letter from her husband; it came to Lisbon after her departure:
+Henry had forwarded it to her, but did not choose to deliver it
+himself, for a very obvious reason; it might have produced a
+conversation he wished for some time to avoid; and his precaution took
+its rise almost equally from benevolence and love.
+
+She could not muster up sufficient resolution to break the seal: her
+fears were not prophetic, for the contents gave her comfort. He informed
+her that he intended prolonging his tour, as he was now his own master,
+and wished to remain some time on the continent, and in particular to
+visit Italy without any restraint: but his reasons for it appeared
+childish; it was not to cultivate his taste, or tread on classic ground,
+where poets and philosophers caught their lore; but to join in the
+masquerades, and such burlesque amusements.
+
+These instances of folly relieved Mary, in some degree reconciled her
+to herself added fuel to the devouring flame--and silenced something
+like a pang, which reason and conscience made her feel, when she
+reflected, that it is the office of Religion to reconcile us to the
+seemingly hard dispensations of providence; and that no inclination,
+however strong, should oblige us to desert the post assigned us, or
+force us to forget that virtue should be an active principle; and that
+the most desirable station, is the one that exercises our faculties,
+refines our affections, and enables us to be useful.
+
+One reflection continually wounded her repose; she feared not poverty;
+her wants were few; but in giving up a fortune, she gave up the power of
+comforting the miserable, and making the sad heart sing for joy.
+
+Heaven had endowed her with uncommon humanity, to render her one of His
+benevolent agents, a messenger of peace; and should she attend to her
+own inclinations?
+
+These suggestions, though they could not subdue a violent passion,
+increased her misery. One moment she was a heroine, half determined to
+bear whatever fate should inflict; the next, her mind would recoil--and
+tenderness possessed her whole soul. Some instances of Henry's
+affection, his worth and genius, were remembered: and the earth was only
+a vale of tears, because he was not to sojourn with her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXVI.
+
+
+Henry came the next day, and once or twice in the course of the
+following week; but still Mary kept up some little formality, a certain
+consciousness restrained her; and Henry did not enter on the subject
+which he found she wished to avoid. In the course of conversation,
+however, she mentioned to him, that she earnestly desired to obtain a
+place in one of the public offices for Ann's brother, as the family were
+again in a declining way.
+
+Henry attended, made a few enquiries, and dropped the subject; but the
+following week, she heard him enter with unusual haste; it was to inform
+her, that he had made interest with a person of some consequence, whom
+he had once obliged in a very disagreeable exigency, in a foreign
+country; and that he had procured a place for her friend, which would
+infallibly lead to something better, if he behaved with propriety. Mary
+could not speak to thank him; emotions of gratitude and love suffused
+her face; her blood eloquently spoke. She delighted to receive benefits
+through the medium of her fellow creatures; but to receive them from
+Henry was exquisite pleasure.
+
+As the summer advanced, Henry grew worse; the closeness of the air, in
+the metropolis, affected his breath; and his mother insisted on his
+fixing on some place in the country, where she would accompany him. He
+could not think of going far off, but chose a little village on the
+banks of the Thames, near Mary's dwelling: he then introduced her to his
+mother.
+
+They frequently went down the river in a boat; Henry would take his
+violin, and Mary would sometimes sing, or read, to them. She pleased his
+mother; she inchanted him. It was an advantage to Mary that friendship
+first possessed her heart; it opened it to all the softer sentiments of
+humanity:--and when this first affection was torn away, a similar one
+sprung up, with a still tenderer sentiment added to it.
+
+The last evening they were on the water, the clouds grew suddenly black,
+and broke in violent showers, which interrupted the solemn stillness
+that had prevailed previous to it. The thunder roared; and the oars
+plying quickly, in order to reach the shore, occasioned a not
+unpleasing sound. Mary drew still nearer Henry; she wished to have
+sought with him a watry grave; to have escaped the horror of surviving
+him.--She spoke not, but Henry saw the workings of her mind--he felt
+them; threw his arm round her waist--and they enjoyed the luxury of
+wretchedness.--As they touched the shore, Mary perceived that Henry was
+wet; with eager anxiety she cried, What shall I do!--this day will kill
+thee, and I shall not die with thee!
+
+This accident put a stop to their pleasurable excursions; it had injured
+him, and brought on the spitting of blood he was subject to--perhaps it
+was not the cold that he caught, that occasioned it. In vain did Mary
+try to shut her eyes; her fate pursued her! Henry every day grew worse
+and worse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXVII.
+
+
+Oppressed by her foreboding fears, her sore mind was hurt by new
+instances of ingratitude: disgusted with the family, whose misfortunes
+had often disturbed her repose, and lost in anticipated sorrow, she
+rambled she knew not where; when turning down a shady walk, she
+discovered her feet had taken the path they delighted to tread. She saw
+Henry sitting in his garden alone; he quickly opened the garden-gate,
+and she sat down by him.
+
+"I did not," said he, "expect to see thee this evening, my dearest Mary;
+but I was thinking of thee. Heaven has endowed thee with an uncommon
+portion of fortitude, to support one of the most affectionate hearts in
+the world. This is not a time for disguise; I know I am dear to
+thee--and my affection for thee is twisted with every fibre of my
+heart.--I loved thee ever since I have been acquainted with thine: thou
+art the being my fancy has delighted to form; but which I imagined
+existed only there! In a little while the shades of death will encompass
+me--ill-fated love perhaps added strength to my disease, and smoothed
+the rugged path. Try, my love, to fulfil thy destined course--try to add
+to thy other virtues patience. I could have wished, for thy sake, that
+we could have died together--or that I could live to shield thee from
+the assaults of an unfeeling world! Could I but offer thee an asylum in
+these arms--a faithful bosom, in which thou couldst repose all thy
+griefs--" He pressed her to it, and she returned the pressure--he felt her
+throbbing heart. A mournful silence ensued! when he resumed the
+conversation. "I wished to prepare thee for the blow--too surely do I
+feel that it will not be long delayed! The passion I have nursed is so
+pure, that death cannot extinguish it--or tear away the impression thy
+virtues have made on my soul. I would fain comfort thee--"
+
+"Talk not of comfort," interrupted Mary, "it will be in heaven with thee
+and Ann--while I shall remain on earth the veriest wretch!"--She grasped
+his hand.
+
+"There we shall meet, my love, my Mary, in our Father's--" His voice
+faultered; he could not finish the sentence; he was almost
+suffocated--they both wept, their tears relieved them; they walked
+slowly to the garden-gate (Mary would not go into the house); they could
+not say farewel when they reached it--and Mary hurried down the lane; to
+spare Henry the pain of witnessing her emotions.
+
+When she lost sight of the house she sat down on the ground, till it
+grew late, thinking of all that had passed. Full of these thoughts, she
+crept along, regardless of the descending rain; when lifting up her eyes
+to heaven, and then turning them wildly on the prospects around, without
+marking them; she only felt that the scene accorded with her present
+state of mind. It was the last glimmering of twilight, with a full moon,
+over which clouds continually flitted. Where am I wandering, God of
+Mercy! she thought; she alluded to the wanderings of her mind. In what a
+labyrinth am I lost! What miseries have I already encountered--and what
+a number lie still before me.
+
+Her thoughts flew rapidly to something. I could be happy listening to
+him, soothing his cares.--Would he not smile upon me--call me his own
+Mary? I am not his--said she with fierceness--I am a wretch! and she
+heaved a sigh that almost broke her heart, while the big tears rolled
+down her burning cheeks; but still her exercised mind, accustomed to
+think, began to observe its operation, though the barrier of reason was
+almost carried away, and all the faculties not restrained by her, were
+running into confusion. Wherefore am I made thus? Vain are my
+efforts--I cannot live without loving--and love leads to madness.--Yet
+I will not weep; and her eyes were now fixed by despair, dry and
+motionless; and then quickly whirled about with a look of distraction.
+
+She looked for hope; but found none--all was troubled waters.--No where
+could she find rest. I have already paced to and fro in the earth; it is
+not my abiding place--may I not too go home! Ah! no. Is this complying
+with my Henry's request, could a spirit thus disengaged expect to
+associate with his? Tears of tenderness strayed down her relaxed
+countenance, and her softened heart heaved more regularly. She felt the
+rain, and turned to her solitary home.
+
+Fatigued by the tumultuous emotions she had endured, when she entered
+the house she ran to her own room, sunk on the bed; and exhausted
+nature soon closed her eyes; but active fancy was still awake, and a
+thousand fearful dreams interrupted her slumbers.
+
+Feverish and languid, she opened her eyes, and saw the unwelcome sun
+dart his rays through a window, the curtains of which she had forgotten
+to draw. The dew hung on the adjacent trees, and added to the lustre;
+the little robin began his song, and distant birds joined. She looked;
+her countenance was still vacant--her sensibility was absorbed by one
+object.
+
+Did I ever admire the rising sun, she slightly thought, turning from the
+Window, and shutting her eyes: she recalled to view the last night's
+scene. His faltering voice, lingering step, and the look of tender woe,
+were all graven on her heart; as were the words "Could these arms
+shield thee from sorrow--afford thee an asylum from an unfeeling world."
+The pressure to his bosom was not forgot. For a moment she was happy;
+but in a long-drawn sigh every delightful sensation evaporated.
+Soon--yes, very soon, will the grave again receive all I love! and the
+remnant of my days--she could not proceed--Were there then days to come
+after that?
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXVIII.
+
+
+Just as she was going to quit her room, to visit Henry, his mother
+called on her.
+
+"My son is worse to-day," said she, "I come to request you to spend not
+only this day, but a week or two with me.--Why should I conceal any
+thing from you? Last night my child made his mother his confident, and,
+in the anguish of his heart, requested me to be thy friend--when I shall
+be childless. I will not attempt to describe what I felt when he talked
+thus to me. If I am to lose the support of my age, and be again a
+widow--may I call her Child whom my Henry wishes me to adopt?"
+
+This new instance of Henry's disinterested affection, Mary felt most
+forcibly; and striving to restrain the complicated emotions, and sooth
+the wretched mother, she almost fainted: when the unhappy parent forced
+tears from her, by saying, "I deserve this blow; my partial fondness
+made me neglect him, when most he wanted a mother's care; this neglect,
+perhaps, first injured his constitution: righteous Heaven has made my
+crime its own punishment; and now I am indeed a mother, I shall loss my
+child--my only child!"
+
+When they were a little more composed they hastened to the invalide; but
+during the short ride, the mother related several instances of Henry's
+goodness of heart. Mary's tears were not those of unmixed anguish; the
+display of his virtues gave her extreme delight--yet human nature
+prevailed; she trembled to think they would soon unfold themselves in a
+more genial clime.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXIX.
+
+
+She found Henry very ill. The physician had some weeks before declared
+he never knew a person with a similar pulse recover. Henry was certain
+he could not live long; all the rest he could obtain, was procured by
+opiates. Mary now enjoyed the melancholy pleasure of nursing him, and
+softened by her tenderness the pains she could not remove. Every sigh
+did she stifle, every tear restrain, when he could see or hear them. She
+would boast of her resignation--yet catch eagerly at the least ray of
+hope. While he slept she would support his pillow, and rest her head
+where she could feel his breath. She loved him better than herself--she
+could not pray for his recovery; she could only say, The will of Heaven
+be done.
+
+While she was in this state, she labored to acquire fortitude; but one
+tender look destroyed it all--she rather labored, indeed, to make him
+believe he was resigned, than really to be so.
+
+She wished to receive the sacrament with him, as a bond of union which
+was to extend beyond the grave. She did so, and received comfort from
+it; she rose above her misery.
+
+His end was now approaching. Mary sat on the side of the bed. His eyes
+appeared fixed--no longer agitated by passion, he only felt that it was
+a fearful thing to die. The soul retired to the citadel; but it was not
+now solely filled by the image of her who in silent despair watched for
+his last breath. Collected, a frightful calmness stilled every turbulent
+emotion.
+
+The mother's grief was more audible. Henry had for some time only
+attended to Mary--Mary pitied the parent, whose stings of conscience
+increased her sorrow; she whispered him, "Thy mother weeps, disregarded
+by thee; oh! comfort her!--My mother, thy son blesses thee.--" The
+oppressed parent left the room. And Mary _waited_ to see him die.
+
+She pressed with trembling eagerness his parched lips--he opened his
+eyes again; the spreading film retired, and love returned them--he gave
+a look--it was never forgotten. My Mary, will you be comforted?
+
+Yes, yes, she exclaimed in a firm voice; you go to be happy--I am not a
+complete wretch! The words almost choked her.
+
+He was a long time silent; the opiate produced a kind of stupor. At
+last, in an agony, he cried, It is dark; I cannot see thee; raise me up.
+Where is Mary? did she not say she delighted to support me? let me die
+in her arms.
+
+Her arms were opened to receive him; they trembled not. Again he was
+obliged to lie down, resting on her: as the agonies increased he leaned
+towards her: the soul seemed flying to her, as it escaped out of its
+prison. The breathing was interrupted; she heard distinctly the last
+sigh--and lifting up to Heaven her eyes, Father, receive his spirit, she
+calmly cried.
+
+The attendants gathered round; she moved not, nor heard the clamor; the
+hand seemed yet to press hers; it still was warm. A ray of light from
+an opened window discovered the pale face.
+
+She left the room, and retired to one very near it; and sitting down on
+the floor, fixed her eyes on the door of the apartment which contained
+the body. Every event of her life rushed across her mind with wonderful
+rapidity--yet all was still--fate had given the finishing stroke. She
+sat till midnight.--Then rose in a phrensy, went into the apartment, and
+desired those who watched the body to retire.
+
+She knelt by the bed side;--an enthusiastic devotion overcame the
+dictates of despair.--She prayed most ardently to be supported, and
+dedicated herself to the service of that Being into whose hands, she had
+committed the spirit she almost adored--again--and again,--she prayed
+wildly--and fervently--but attempting to touch the lifeless hand--her
+head swum--she sunk--
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXX.
+
+
+Three months after, her only friend, the mother of her lost Henry began
+to be alarmed, at observing her altered appearance; and made her own
+health a pretext for travelling. These complaints roused Mary out of her
+torpid state; she imagined a new duty now forced her to exert herself--a
+duty love made sacred!--
+
+They went to Bath, from that to Bristol; but the latter place they
+quickly left; the sight of the sick that resort there, they neither of
+them could bear. From Bristol they flew to Southampton. The road was
+pleasant--yet Mary shut her eyes;--or if they were open, green fields
+and commons, passed in quick succession, and left no more traces behind
+than if they had been waves of the sea.
+
+Some time after they were settled at Southampton, they met the man who
+took so much notice of Mary, soon after her return to England. He
+renewed his acquaintance; he was really interested in her fate, as he
+had heard her uncommon story; besides, he knew her husband; knew him to
+be a good-natured, weak man. He saw him soon after his arrival in his
+native country, and prevented his hastening to enquire into the reasons
+of Mary's strange conduct. He desired him not to be too precipitate, if
+he ever wished to possess an invaluable treasure. He was guided by him,
+and allowed him to follow Mary to Southampton, and speak first to her
+friend.
+
+This friend determined to trust to her native strength of mind, and
+informed her of the circumstance; but she overrated it: Mary was not
+able, for a few days after the intelligence, to fix on the mode of
+conduct she ought now to pursue. But at last she conquered her disgust,
+and wrote her _husband_ an account of what had passed since she had
+dropped his correspondence.
+
+He came in person to answer the letter. Mary fainted when he approached
+her unexpectedly. Her disgust returned with additional force, in spite
+of previous reasonings, whenever he appeared; yet she was prevailed on
+to promise to live with him, if he would permit her to pass one year,
+travelling from place to place; he was not to accompany her.
+
+The time too quickly elapsed, and she gave him her hand--the struggle
+was almost more than she could endure. She tried to appear calm; time
+mellowed her grief, and mitigated her torments; but when her husband
+would take her hand, or mention any thing like love, she would instantly
+feel a sickness, a faintness at her heart, and wish, involuntarily, that
+the earth would open and swallow her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXXI.
+
+
+Mary visited the continent, and sought health in different climates; but
+her nerves were not to be restored to their former state. She then
+retired to her house in the country, established manufactories, threw
+the estate into small farms; and continually employed herself this way
+to dissipate care, and banish unavailing regret. She visited the sick,
+supported the old, and educated the young.
+
+These occupations engrossed her mind; but there were hours when all her
+former woes would return and haunt her.--Whenever she did, or said, any
+thing she thought Henry would have approved of--she could not avoid
+thinking with anguish, of the rapture his approbation ever conveyed to
+her heart--a heart in which there was a void, that even benevolence and
+religion could not fill. The latter taught her to struggle for
+resignation; and the former rendered life supportable.
+
+Her delicate state of health did not promise long life. In moments of
+solitary sadness, a gleam of joy would dart across her mind--She thought
+she was hastening to that world _where there is neither marrying_, nor
+giving in marriage.
+
+
+
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Mary</p>
+<p>       A Fiction</p>
+<p>Author: Mary Wollstonecraft</p>
+<p>Release Date: July 24, 2005  [eBook #16357]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Janet Blenkinship,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (https://www.pgdp.net/)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="trans-note">
+        Transcriber's Note: The author is Mary Wollstonecraft.
+        The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber.
+    </div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>MARY,</h1>
+
+<h3>A<br />
+FICTION.</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h4>L'exercice des plus sublimes vertus &eacute;leve et nourrit le g&eacute;nie.&mdash;Rousseau.</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class='center'><b>LONDON,</b></p>
+
+<p class='center'>PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD.</p>
+
+<p class='center'>MDCCLXXXVIII.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ADVERTISEMENT"><b>ADVERTISEMENT.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_I"><b>CHAP. I.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_II"><b>CHAP. II.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_III"><b>CHAP. III.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_IV"><b>CHAP. IV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_V"><b>CHAP. V.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_VI"><b>CHAP. VI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_VII"><b>CHAP. VII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_VIII"><b>CHAP. VIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_IX"><b>CHAP. IX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_X"><b>CHAP. X.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XI"><b>CHAP. XI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XII"><b>CHAP. XII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XIII"><b>CHAP. XIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XIV"><b>CHAP. XIV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XV"><b>CHAP. XV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XVI"><b>CHAP. XVI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XVII"><b>CHAP. XVII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XVIII"><b>CHAP. XVIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XIX"><b>CHAP. XIX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XX"><b>CHAP. XX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXI"><b>CHAP. XXI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXII"><b>CHAP. XXII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXIII"><b>CHAP. XXIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXIV"><b>CHAP. XXIV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXV"><b>CHAP. XXV.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXVI"><b>CHAP. XXVI.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXVII"><b>CHAP. XXVII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXVIII"><b>CHAP. XXVIII.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXIX"><b>CHAP. XXIX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXX"><b>CHAP. XXX.</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAP_XXXI"><b>CHAP. XXXI.</b></a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p><a name="Page_-6" id="Page_-6"></a></p><p><a name="Page_-5" id="Page_-5"></a></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_-4" id="Page_-4"></a></p><p><a name="Page_-3" id="Page_-3"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="ADVERTISEMENT" id="ADVERTISEMENT"></a>ADVERTISEMENT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In delineating the Heroine of this Fiction, the Author attempts to
+develop a character different from those generally portrayed. This woman
+is neither a Clarissa, a Lady G&mdash;&mdash;, nor a<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Sophie.&mdash;It would be vain
+to mention the various modifications of these models, as it would to
+remark, how widely artists wander from nature, when they copy the
+originals of great masters. They catch the gross parts; but the subtile<a name="Page_-2" id="Page_-2"></a>
+spirit evaporates; and not having the just ties, affectation disgusts,
+when grace was expected to charm.</p>
+
+<p>Those compositions only have power to delight, and carry us willing
+captives, where the soul of the author is exhibited, and animates the
+hidden springs. Lost in a pleasing enthusiasm, they live in the scenes
+they represent; and do not measure their steps in a beaten track,
+solicitous to gather expected flowers, and bind them in a wreath,
+according to the prescribed rules of art.</p>
+
+<p>These chosen few, wish to speak for themselves, and not to be an<a name="Page_-1" id="Page_-1"></a>
+echo&mdash;even of the sweetest sounds&mdash;or the reflector of the most sublime
+beams. The<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> paradise they ramble in, must be of their own creating&mdash;or
+the prospect soon grows insipid, and not varied by a vivifying
+principle, fades and dies.</p>
+
+<p>In an artless tale, without episodes, the mind of a woman, who has
+thinking powers is displayed. The female organs have been thought too<a name="Page_0" id="Page_0"></a>
+weak for this arduous employment; and experience seems to justify the
+assertion. Without arguing physically about <i>possibilities</i>&mdash;in a
+fiction, such a being may be allowed to exist; whose grandeur is derived
+from the operations of its own faculties, not subjugated to opinion; but
+drawn by the individual from the original source.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Rousseau.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> I here give the Reviewers an opportunity of being very
+witty about the Paradise of Fools, &amp;c.</p></div>
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>MARY</h1>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_I" id="CHAP_I"></a>CHAP. I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mary, the heroine of this fiction, was the daughter of Edward, who
+married Eliza, a gentle, fashionable girl, with a kind of indolence in
+her temper, which might be termed negative good-nature: her virtues,
+indeed, were all of that stamp. She carefully attended to the <i>shews</i> of
+things, and her opinions, I should have said prejudices, were such as
+the generality approved of. She was educated with the expectation of a
+large fortune, of course became a mere machine: the homage of her<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>
+attendants made a great part of her puerile amusements, and she never
+imagined there were any relative duties for her to fulfil: notions of
+her own consequence, by these means, were interwoven in her mind, and
+the years of youth spent in acquiring a few superficial accomplishments,
+without having any taste for them. When she was first introduced into
+the polite circle, she danced with an officer, whom she faintly wished
+to be united to; but her father soon after recommending another in a
+more distinguished rank of life, she readily submitted to his will, and
+promised to love, honour, and obey, (a vicious fool,) as in duty bound.</p>
+
+<p>While they resided in London, they lived in the usual fashionable style,
+and seldom saw each other; nor were they much more sociable when they
+wooed rural felicity for more than half the year, in a delightful<a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a>
+country, where Nature, with lavish hand, had scattered beauties around;
+for the master, with brute, unconscious gaze, passed them by unobserved,
+and sought amusement in country sports. He hunted in the morning, and
+after eating an immoderate dinner, generally fell asleep: this
+seasonable rest enabled him to digest the cumbrous load; he would then
+visit some of his pretty tenants; and when he compared their ruddy glow
+of health with his wife's countenance, which even rouge could not
+enliven, it is not necessary to say which a <i>gourmand</i> would give the
+preference to. Their vulgar dance of spirits were infinitely more
+agreeable to his fancy than her sickly, die-away languor. Her voice was
+but the shadow of a sound, and she had, to complete her delicacy, so<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>
+relaxed her nerves, that she became a mere nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Many such noughts are there in the female world! yet she had a good
+opinion of her own merit,&mdash;truly, she said long prayers,&mdash;and sometimes
+read her Week's Preparation: she dreaded that horrid place vulgarly
+called <i>hell</i>, the regions below; but whether her's was a mounting
+spirit, I cannot pretend to determine; or what sort of a planet would
+have been proper for her, when she left her <i>material</i> part in this
+world, let metaphysicians settle; I have nothing to say to her unclothed
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p>As she was sometimes obliged to be alone, or only with her French
+waiting-maid, she sent to the metropolis for all the new publications,
+and while she was dressing her hair, and she could turn her eyes from
+the glass, she ran over <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>those most delightful substitutes for bodily
+dissipation, novels. I say bodily, or the animal soul, for a rational
+one can find no employment in polite circles. The glare of lights, the
+studied inelegancies of dress, and the compliments offered up at the
+shrine of false beauty, are all equally addressed to the senses.</p>
+
+<p>When she could not any longer indulge the caprices of fancy one way, she
+tried another. The Platonic Marriage, Eliza Warwick, and some other
+interesting tales were perused with eagerness. Nothing could be more
+natural than the developement of the passions, nor more striking than
+the views of the human heart. What delicate struggles! and uncommonly
+pretty turns of thought! The picture that was found on a bramble-bush,
+the new sensitive-plant, or tree, which caught the swain by the
+upper-<a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a>garment, and presented to his ravished eyes a portrait.&mdash;Fatal
+image!&mdash;It planted a thorn in a till then insensible heart, and sent a
+new kind of a knight-errant into the world. But even this was nothing to
+the catastrophe, and the circumstance on which it hung, the hornet
+settling on the sleeping lover's face. What a <i>heart-rending</i> accident!
+She planted, in imitation of those susceptible souls, a rose bush; but
+there was not a lover to weep in concert with her, when she watered it
+with her tears.&mdash;Alas! Alas!</p>
+
+<p>If my readers would excuse the sportiveness of fancy, and give me credit
+for genius, I would go on and tell them such tales as would force the
+sweet tears of sensibility to flow in copious showers down beautiful
+cheeks, to the discomposure of rouge, &amp;c. &amp;c. Nay, I would make it so
+interesting, that the <a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>fair peruser should beg the hair-dresser to
+settle the curls himself, and not interrupt her.</p>
+
+<p>She had besides another resource, two most beautiful dogs, who shared
+her bed, and reclined on cushions near her all the day. These she
+watched with the most assiduous care, and bestowed on them the warmest
+caresses. This fondness for animals was not that kind of
+<i>attendrissement</i> which makes a person take pleasure in providing for
+the subsistence and comfort of a living creature; but it proceeded from
+vanity, it gave her an opportunity of lisping out the prettiest French
+expressions of ecstatic fondness, in accents that had never been attuned
+by tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>She was chaste, according to the vulgar acceptation of the word, that
+is, she did not make any actual <i>faux pas</i>; she <a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>feared the world, and
+was indolent; but then, to make amends for this seeming self-denial, she
+read all the sentimental novels, dwelt on the love-scenes, and, had she
+thought while she read, her mind would have been contaminated; as she
+accompanied the lovers to the lonely arbors, and would walk with them by
+the clear light of the moon. She wondered her husband did not stay at
+home. She was jealous&mdash;why did he not love her, sit by her side, squeeze
+her hand, and look unutterable things? Gentle reader, I will tell thee;
+they neither of them felt what they could not utter. I will not pretend
+to say that they always annexed an idea to a word; but they had none of
+those feelings which are not easily analyzed.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_II" id="CHAP_II"></a>CHAP. II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In due time she brought forth a son, a feeble babe; and the following
+year a daughter. After the mother's throes she felt very few sentiments
+of maternal tenderness: the children were given to nurses, and she
+played with her dogs. Want of exercise prevented the least chance of her
+recovering strength; and two or three milk-fevers brought on a
+consumption, to which her constitution tended. Her children all died in
+their infancy, except the two first, and she began to grow fond of the
+son, as he was remarkably handsome. For years she divided her time
+between the sofa, and the card-table. She thought not of <a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>death, though
+on the borders of the grave; nor did any of the duties of her station
+occur to her as necessary. Her children were left in the nursery; and
+when Mary, the little blushing girl, appeared, she would send the
+awkward thing away. To own the truth, she was awkward enough, in a house
+without any play-mates; for her brother had been sent to school, and she
+scarcely knew how to employ herself; she would ramble about the garden,
+admire the flowers, and play with the dogs. An old house-keeper told her
+stories, read to her, and, at last, taught her to read. Her mother
+talked of enquiring for a governess when her health would permit; and,
+in the interim desired her own maid to teach her French. As she had
+learned to read, she perused with avidity every book that came in her
+way. Neglected in <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>every respect, and left to the operations of her own
+mind, she considered every thing that came under her inspection, and
+learned to think. She had heard of a separate state, and that angels
+sometimes visited this earth. She would sit in a thick wood in the park,
+and talk to them; make little songs addressed to them, and sing them to
+tunes of her own composing; and her native wood notes wild were sweet
+and touching.</p>
+
+<p>Her father always exclaimed against female acquirements, and was glad
+that his wife's indolence and ill health made her not trouble herself
+about them. She had besides another reason, she did not wish to have a
+fine tall girl brought forward into notice as her daughter; she still
+expected to recover, and figure away in the gay world. Her husband was
+very tyrannical and passionate; indeed so <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>very easily irritated when
+inebriated, that Mary was continually in dread lest he should frighten
+her mother to death; her sickness called forth all Mary's tenderness,
+and exercised her compassion so continually, that it became more than a
+match for self-love, and was the governing propensity of her heart
+through life. She was violent in her temper; but she saw her father's
+faults, and would weep when obliged to compare his temper with her
+own.&mdash;She did more; artless prayers rose to Heaven for pardon, when she
+was conscious of having erred; and her contrition was so exceedingly
+painful, that she watched diligently the first movements of anger and
+impatience, to save herself this cruel remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Sublime ideas filled her young mind&mdash;always connected with devotional
+sentiments; extemporary effusions of grati<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>tude, and rhapsodies of
+praise would burst often from her, when she listened to the birds, or
+pursued the deer. She would gaze on the moon, and ramble through the
+gloomy path, observing the various shapes the clouds assumed, and listen
+to the sea that was not far distant. The wandering spirits, which she
+imagined inhabited every part of nature, were her constant friends and
+confidants. She began to consider the Great First Cause, formed just
+notions of his attributes, and, in particular, dwelt on his wisdom and
+goodness. Could she have loved her father or mother, had they returned
+her affection, she would not so soon, perhaps, have sought out a new
+world.</p>
+
+<p>Her sensibility prompted her to search for an object to love; on earth
+it was not to be found: her mother had often disappointed her, and the
+apparent par<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>tiality she shewed to her brother gave her exquisite
+pain&mdash;produced a kind of habitual melancholy, led her into a fondness
+for reading tales of woe, and made her almost realize the fictitious
+distress.</p>
+
+<p>She had not any notion of death till a little chicken expired at her
+feet; and her father had a dog hung in a passion. She then concluded
+animals had souls, or they would not have been subjected to the caprice
+of man; but what was the soul of man or beast? In this style year after
+year rolled on, her mother still vegetating.</p>
+
+<p>A little girl who attended in the nursery fell sick. Mary paid her great
+attention; contrary to her wish, she was sent out of the house to her
+mother, a poor woman, whom necessity obliged to leave her sick child
+while she earned her daily bread. The poor wretch, in a <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>fit of delirium
+stabbed herself, and Mary saw her dead body, and heard the dismal
+account; and so strongly did it impress her imagination, that every
+night of her life the bleeding corpse presented itself to her when the
+first began to slumber. Tortured by it, she at last made a vow, that if
+she was ever mistress of a family she would herself watch over every
+part of it. The impression that this accident made was indelible.</p>
+
+<p>As her mother grew imperceptibly worse and worse, her father, who did
+not understand such a lingering complaint, imagined his wife was only
+grown still more whimsical, and that if she could be prevailed on to
+exert herself, her health would soon be re-established. In general he
+treated her with indifference; but when her illness at all interfered
+with his pleasures, he expostulated in the most <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>cruel manner, and
+visibly harassed the invalid. Mary would then assiduously try to turn
+his attention to something else; and when sent out of the room, would
+watch at the door, until the storm was over, for unless it was, she
+could not rest. Other causes also contributed to disturb her repose: her
+mother's luke-warm manner of performing her religious duties, filled her
+with anguish; and when she observed her father's vices, the unbidden
+tears would flow. She was miserable when beggars were driven from the
+gate without being relieved; if she could do it unperceived, she would
+give them her own breakfast, and feel gratified, when, in consequence of
+it, she was pinched by hunger.</p>
+
+<p>She had once, or twice, told her little secrets to her mother; they were
+laughed at, and she determined never to do it <a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>again. In this manner was
+she left to reflect on her own feelings; and so strengthened were they
+by being meditated on, that her character early became singular and
+permanent. Her understanding was strong and clear, when not clouded by
+her feelings; but she was too much the creature of impulse, and the
+slave of compassion.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_III" id="CHAP_III"></a>CHAP. III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Near her father's house lived a poor widow, who had been brought up in
+affluence, but reduced to great distress by the extravagance of her
+husband; he had destroyed his constitution while he spent his fortune;
+and dying, left his wife, and five small children, to live on a very
+scanty pittance. The eldest daughter was for some years educated by a
+distant relation, a Clergyman. While she was with him a young gentleman,
+son to a man of property in the neighbourhood, took particular notice of
+her. It is true, he never talked of love; but then they played and sung
+in concert; drew landscapes together, and while she worked he read to
+her, culti<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>vated her taste, and stole imperceptibly her heart. Just at
+this juncture, when smiling, unanalyzed hope made every prospect bright,
+and gay expectation danced in her eyes, her benefactor died. She
+returned to her mother&mdash;the companion of her youth forgot her, they took
+no more sweet counsel together. This disappointment spread a sadness
+over her countenance, and made it interesting. She grew fond of
+solitude, and her character appeared similar to Mary's, though her
+natural disposition was very different.</p>
+
+<p>She was several years older than Mary, yet her refinement, her taste,
+caught her eye, and she eagerly sought her friendship: before her return
+she had assisted the family, which was almost reduced to the last ebb;
+and now she had another motive to actuate her.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>As she had often occasion to send messages to Ann, her new friend,
+mistakes were frequently made; Ann proposed that in future they should
+be written ones, to obviate this difficulty, and render their
+intercourse more agreeable. Young people are mostly fond of scribbling;
+Mary had had very little instruction; but by copying her friend's
+letters, whose hand she admired, she soon became a proficient; a little
+practice made her write with tolerable correctness, and her genius gave
+force to it. In conversation, and in writing, when she felt, she was
+pathetic, tender and persuasive; and she expressed contempt with such
+energy, that few could stand the flash of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>As she grew more intimate with Ann, her manners were softened, and she
+acquired a degree of equality in her behaviour: yet still her spirits
+were fluc<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>tuating, and her movements rapid. She felt less pain on
+account of her mother's partiality to her brother, as she hoped now to
+experience the pleasure of being beloved; but this hope led her into new
+sorrows, and, as usual, paved the way for disappointment. Ann only felt
+gratitude; her heart was entirely engrossed by one object, and
+friendship could not serve as a substitute; memory officiously retraced
+past scenes, and unavailing wishes made time loiter.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was often hurt by the involuntary indifference which these
+consequences produced. When her friend was all the world to her, she
+found she was not as necessary to her happiness; and her delicate mind
+could not bear to obtrude her affection, or receive love as an alms, the
+offspring of pity. Very frequently has she ran to her with de<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>light, and
+not perceiving any thing of the same kind in Ann's countenance, she has
+shrunk back; and, falling from one extreme into the other, instead of a
+warm greeting that was just slipping from her tongue, her expressions
+seemed to be dictated by the most chilling insensibility.</p>
+
+<p>She would then imagine that she looked sickly or unhappy, and then all
+her tenderness would return like a torrent, and bear away all
+reflection. In this manner was her sensibility called forth, and
+exercised, by her mother's illness, her friend's misfortunes, and her
+own unsettled mind.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_IV" id="CHAP_IV"></a>CHAP. IV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Near to her father's house was a range of mountains; some of them were,
+literally speaking, cloud-capt, for on them clouds continually rested,
+and gave grandeur to the prospect; and down many of their sides the
+little bubbling cascades ran till they swelled a beautiful river.
+Through the straggling trees and bushes the wind whistled, and on them
+the birds sung, particularly the robins; they also found shelter in the
+ivy of an old castle, a haunted one, as the story went; it was situated
+on the brow of one of the mountains, and commanded a view of the sea.
+This castle had been inhabited by some of her ancestors; and <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>many tales
+had the old house-keeper told her of the worthies who had resided there.</p>
+
+<p>When her mother frowned, and her friend looked cool, she would steal to
+this retirement, where human foot seldom trod&mdash;gaze on the sea, observe
+the grey clouds, or listen to the wind which struggled to free itself
+from the only thing that impeded its course. When more cheerful, she
+admired the various dispositions of light and shade, the beautiful tints
+the gleams of sunshine gave to the distant hills; then she rejoiced in
+existence, and darted into futurity.</p>
+
+<p>One way home was through the cavity of a rock covered with a thin layer
+of earth, just sufficient to afford nourishment to a few stunted shrubs
+and wild plants, which grew on its sides, and nodded over the summit. A
+clear stream broke out <a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>of it, and ran amongst the pieces of rocks
+fallen into it. Here twilight always reigned&mdash;it seemed the Temple of
+Solitude; yet, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, when the foot
+sounded on the rock, it terrified the intruder, and inspired a strange
+feeling, as if the rightful sovereign was dislodged. In this retreat she
+read Thomson's Seasons, Young's Night-Thoughts, and Paradise Lost.</p>
+
+<p>At a little distance from it were the huts of a few poor fishermen, who
+supported their numerous children by their precarious labour. In these
+little huts she frequently rested, and denied herself every childish
+gratification, in order to relieve the necessities of the inhabitants.
+Her heart yearned for them, and would dance with joy when she had
+relieved their wants, or afforded them pleasure.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>In these pursuits she learned the luxury of doing good; and the sweet
+tears of benevolence frequently moistened her eyes, and gave them a
+sparkle which, exclusive of that, they had not; on the contrary, they
+were rather fixed, and would never have been observed if her soul had
+not animated them. They were not at all like those brilliant ones which
+look like polished diamonds, and dart from every superfice, giving more
+light to the beholders than they receive themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Her benevolence, indeed, knew no bounds; the distress of others carried
+her out of herself; and she rested not till she had relieved or
+comforted them. The warmth of her compassion often made her so diligent,
+that many things occurred to her, which might have escaped a less
+interested observer.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>In like manner, she entered with such spirit into whatever she read,
+and the emotions thereby raised were so strong, that it soon became a
+part of her mind.</p>
+
+<p>Enthusiastic sentiments of devotion at this period actuated her; her
+Creator was almost apparent to her senses in his works; but they were
+mostly the grand or solemn features of Nature which she delighted to
+contemplate. She would stand and behold the waves rolling, and think of
+the voice that could still the tumultuous deep.</p>
+
+<p>These propensities gave the colour to her mind, before the passions
+began to exercise their tyrannic sway, and particularly pointed out
+those which the soil would have a tendency to nurse.</p>
+
+<p>Years after, when wandering through the same scenes, her imagination has
+strayed back, to trace the first placid <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>sentiments they inspired, and
+she would earnestly desire to regain the same peaceful tranquillity.</p>
+
+<p>Many nights she sat up, if I may be allowed the expression, <i>conversing</i>
+with the Author of Nature, making verses, and singing hymns of her own
+composing. She considered also, and tried to discern what end her
+various faculties were destined to pursue; and had a glimpse of a truth,
+which afterwards more fully unfolded itself.</p>
+
+<p>She thought that only an infinite being could fill the human soul, and
+that when other objects were followed as a means of happiness, the
+delusion led to misery, the consequence of disappointment. Under the
+influence of ardent affections, how often has she forgot this
+conviction, and as often returned to it again, when it struck her with
+redoubled <a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>force. Often did she taste unmixed delight; her joys, her
+ecstacies arose from genius.</p>
+
+<p>She was now fifteen, and she wished to receive the holy sacrament; and
+perusing the scriptures, and discussing some points of doctrine which
+puzzled her, she would sit up half the night, her favourite time for
+employing her mind; she too plainly perceived that she saw through a
+glass darkly; and that the bounds set to stop our intellectual
+researches, is one of the trials of a probationary state.</p>
+
+<p>But her affections were roused by the display of divine mercy; and she
+eagerly desired to commemorate the dying love of her great benefactor.
+The night before the important day, when she was to take on herself her
+baptismal vow, she could not go to bed; the sun broke in on her
+<a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>meditations, and found her not exhausted by her watching.</p>
+
+<p>The orient pearls were strewed around&mdash;she hailed the morn, and sung
+with wild delight, Glory to God on high, good will towards men. She was
+indeed so much affected when she joined in the prayer for her eternal
+preservation, that she could hardly conceal her violent emotions; and
+the recollection never failed to wake her dormant piety when earthly
+passions made it grow languid.</p>
+
+<p>These various movements of her mind were not commented on, nor were the
+luxuriant shoots restrained by culture. The servants and the poor adored
+her.</p>
+
+<p>In order to be enabled to gratify herself in the highest degree, she
+practiced the most rigid &#339;conomy, and had such power over her
+appetites and whims, that without any great effort she conquered <a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>them
+so entirely, that when her understanding or affections had an object,
+she almost forgot she had a body which required nourishment.</p>
+
+<p>This habit of thinking, this kind of absorption, gave strength to the
+passions.</p>
+
+<p>We will now enter on the more active field of life.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_V" id="CHAP_V"></a>CHAP. V.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A few months after Mary was turned of seventeen, her brother was
+attacked by a violent fever, and died before his father could reach the
+school.</p>
+
+<p>She was now an heiress, and her mother began to think her of
+consequence, and did not call her <i>the child</i>. Proper masters were sent
+for; she was taught to dance, and an extraordinary master procured to
+perfect her in that most necessary of all accomplishments.</p>
+
+<p>A part of the estate she was to inherit had been litigated, and the heir
+of the person who still carried on a Chancery suit, was only two years
+younger than our heroine. The fathers, spite of the <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>dispute, frequently
+met, and, in order to settle it amicably, they one day, over a bottle,
+determined to quash it by a marriage, and, by uniting the two estates,
+to preclude all farther enquiries into the merits of their different
+claims.</p>
+
+<p>While this important matter was settling, Mary was otherwise employed.
+Ann's mother's resources were failing; and the ghastly phantom, poverty,
+made hasty strides to catch them in his clutches. Ann had not fortitude
+enough to brave such accumulated misery; besides, the canker-worm was
+lodged in her heart, and preyed on her health. She denied herself every
+little comfort; things that would be no sacrifice when a person is well,
+are absolutely necessary to alleviate bodily pain, and support the
+animal functions.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>There were many elegant amusements, that she had acquired a relish for,
+which might have taken her mind off from its most destructive bent; but
+these her indigence would not allow her to enjoy: forced then, by way of
+relaxation, to play the tunes her lover admired, and handle the pencil
+he taught her to hold, no wonder his image floated on her imagination,
+and that taste invigorated love.</p>
+
+<p>Poverty, and all its inelegant attendants, were in her mother's abode;
+and she, though a good sort of a woman, was not calculated to banish, by
+her trivial, uninteresting chat, the delirium in which her daughter was
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>This ill-fated love had given a bewitching softness to her manners, a
+delicacy so truly feminine, that a man of any feeling could not behold
+her without wishing to chase her sorrows away.<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a> She was timid and
+irresolute, and rather fond of dissipation; grief only had power to make
+her reflect.</p>
+
+<p>In every thing it was not the great, but the beautiful, or the pretty,
+that caught her attention. And in composition, the polish of style, and
+harmony of numbers, interested her much more than the flights of genius,
+or abstracted speculations.</p>
+
+<p>She often wondered at the books Mary chose, who, though she had a lively
+imagination, would frequently study authors whose works were addressed
+to the understanding. This liking taught her to arrange her thoughts,
+and argue with herself, even when under the influence of the most
+violent passions.</p>
+
+<p>Ann's misfortunes and ill health were strong ties to bind Mary to her;
+she wished so continually to have a home to <a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>receive her in, that it
+drove every other desire out of her mind; and, dwelling on the tender
+schemes which compassion and friendship dictated, she longed most
+ardently to put them in practice.</p>
+
+<p>Fondly as she loved her friend, she did not forget her mother, whose
+decline was so imperceptible, that they were not aware of her
+approaching dissolution. The physician, however, observing the most
+alarming symptoms; her husband was apprised of her immediate danger; and
+then first mentioned to her his designs with respect to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>She approved of them; Mary was sent for; she was not at home; she had
+rambled to visit Ann, and found her in an hysteric fit. The landlord of
+her little farm had sent his agent for the rent, which had long been due
+to him; and he threatened to seize the stock that still <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>remained, and
+turn them out, if they did not very shortly discharge the arrears.</p>
+
+<p>As this man made a private fortune by harassing the tenants of the
+person to whom he was deputy, little was to be expected from his
+forbearance.</p>
+
+<p>All this was told to Mary&mdash;and the mother added, she had many other
+creditors who would, in all probability, take the alarm, and snatch from
+them all that had been saved out of the wreck. "I could bear all," she
+cried; "but what will become of my children? Of this child," pointing to
+the fainting Ann, "whose constitution is already undermined by care and
+grief&mdash;where will she go?"&mdash;Mary's heart ceased to beat while she asked
+the question&mdash;She attempted to speak; but the inarticulate sounds died
+away. Before she had recovered herself, her father called him<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>self to
+enquire for her; and desired her instantly to accompany him home.</p>
+
+<p>Engrossed by the scene of misery she had been witness to, she walked
+silently by his side, when he roused her out of her reverie by telling
+her that in all likelihood her mother had not many hours to live; and
+before she could return him any answer, informed her that they had both
+determined to marry her to Charles, his friend's son; he added, the
+ceremony was to be performed directly, that her mother might be witness
+of it; for such a desire she had expressed with childish eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with
+a vacant stare, fixed them on her father's face; but they were no longer
+a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain. As she drew near the
+house, her wonted presence <a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>presence of mind returned: after this
+suspension of thought, a thousand darted into her mind,&mdash;her dying
+mother,&mdash;her friend's miserable situation,&mdash;and an extreme horror at
+taking&mdash;at being forced to take, such a hasty step; but she did not feel
+the disgust, the reluctance, which arises from a prior attachment.</p>
+
+<p>She loved Ann better than any one in the world&mdash;to snatch her from the
+very jaws of destruction&mdash;she would have encountered a lion. To have
+this friend constantly with her; to make her mind easy with respect to
+her family, would it not be superlative bliss?</p>
+
+<p>Full of these thoughts she entered her mother's chamber, but they then
+fled at the sight of a dying parent. She went to her, took her hand; it
+feebly pressed her's. "My child," said the languid mother: the words
+reached her heart; <a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>she had seldom heard them pronounced with accents
+denoting affection; "My child, I have not always treated you with
+kindness&mdash;God forgive me! do you?"&mdash;Mary's tears strayed in a
+disregarded stream; on her bosom the big drops fell, but did not relieve
+the fluttering tenant. "I forgive you!" said she, in a tone of
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>The clergyman came in to read the service for the sick, and afterwards
+the marriage ceremony was performed. Mary stood like a statue of
+Despair, and pronounced the awful vow without thinking of it; and then
+ran to support her mother, who expired the same night in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>Her husband set off for the continent the same day, with a tutor, to
+finish his studies at one of the foreign universities.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>Ann was sent for to console her, not on account of the departure of her
+new relation, a boy she seldom took any notice of, but to reconcile her
+to her fate; besides, it was necessary she should have a female
+companion, and there was not any maiden aunt in the family, or cousin of
+the same class.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_VI" id="CHAP_VI"></a>CHAP. VI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mary was allowed to pay the rent which gave her so much uneasiness, and
+she exerted every nerve to prevail on her father effectually to succour
+the family; but the utmost she could obtain was a small sum very
+inadequate to the purpose, to enable the poor woman to carry into
+execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.</p>
+
+<p>Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight
+with him, than Mary's arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy and
+friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive of
+occult qualities <a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>he never thought of, as they could not be seen or
+felt.</p>
+
+<p>After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish,
+though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of
+amusing her. Had her health been re-established, the time would have
+passed in a tranquil, improving manner.</p>
+
+<p>During the year of mourning they lived in retirement; music, drawing,
+and reading, filled up the time; and Mary's taste and judgment were both
+improved by contracting a habit of observation, and permitting the
+simple beauties of Nature to occupy her thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>She had a wonderful quickness in discerning distinctions and combining
+ideas, that at the first glance did not appear to be similar. But these
+various pursuits <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>did not banish all her cares, or carry off all her
+constitutional black bile. Before she enjoyed Ann's society, she
+imagined it would have made her completely happy: she was disappointed,
+and yet knew not what to complain of.</p>
+
+<p>As her friend could not accompany her in her walks, and wished to be
+alone, for a very obvious reason, she would return to her old haunts,
+retrace her anticipated pleasures&mdash;-and wonder how they changed their
+colour in possession, and proved so futile.</p>
+
+<p>She had not yet found the companion she looked for. Ann and she were not
+congenial minds, nor did she contribute to her comfort in the degree she
+expected. She shielded her from poverty; but this was only a negative
+blessing; when under the pressure it was very grievous, and still more
+so were the apprehensions; but when <a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>when exempt from them, she was not
+contented.</p>
+
+<p>Such is human nature, its laws were not to be inverted to gratify our
+heroine, and stop the progress of her understanding, happiness only
+flourished in paradise&mdash;we cannot taste and live.</p>
+
+<p>Another year passed away with increasing apprehensions. Ann had a hectic
+cough, and many unfavourable prognostics: Mary then forgot every thing
+but the fear of losing her, and even imagined that her recovery would
+have made her happy.</p>
+
+<p>Her anxiety led her to study physic, and for some time she only read
+books of that cast; and this knowledge, literally speaking, ended in
+vanity and vexation of spirit, as it enabled her to foresee what she
+could not prevent.</p>
+
+<p>As her mind expanded, her marriage appeared <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>appeared a dreadful
+misfortune; she was sometimes reminded of the heavy yoke, and bitter was
+the recollection!</p>
+
+<p>In one thing there seemed to be a sympathy between them, for she wrote
+formal answers to his as formal letters. An extreme dislike took root in
+her mind; the found of his name made her turn sick; but she forgot all,
+listening to Ann's cough, and supporting her languid frame. She would
+then catch her to her bosom with convulsive eagerness, as if to save her
+from sinking into an opening grave.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_VII" id="CHAP_VII"></a>CHAP. VII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was the will of Providence that Mary should experience almost every
+species of sorrow. Her father was thrown from his horse, when his blood
+was in a very inflammatory state, and the bruises were very dangerous;
+his recovery was not expected by the physical tribe.</p>
+
+<p>Terrified at seeing him so near death, and yet so ill prepared for it,
+his daughter sat by his bed, oppressed by the keenest anguish, which her
+piety increased.</p>
+
+<p>Her grief had nothing selfish in it; he was not a friend or protector;
+but he was her father, an unhappy wretch, going into eternity, depraved
+and thought<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>less. Could a life of sensuality be a preparation for a
+peaceful death? Thus meditating, she passed the still midnight hour by
+his bedside.</p>
+
+<p>The nurse fell asleep, nor did a violent thunder storm interrupt her
+repose, though it made the night appear still more terrific to Mary. Her
+father's unequal breathing alarmed her, when she heard a long drawn
+breath, she feared it was his last, and watching for another, a dreadful
+peal of thunder struck her ears. Considering the separation of the soul
+and body, this night seemed sadly solemn, and the hours long.</p>
+
+<p>Death is indeed a king of terrors when he attacks the vicious man! The
+compassionate heart finds not any comfort; but dreads an eternal
+separation. No transporting greetings are anticipated, when the
+survivors also shall have finished their <a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>their course; but all is
+black!&mdash;the grave may truly be said to receive the departed&mdash;this is the
+sting of death!</p>
+
+<p>Night after night Mary watched, and this excessive fatigue impaired her
+own health, but had a worse effect on Ann; though she constantly went to
+bed, she could not rest; a number of uneasy thoughts obtruded
+themselves; and apprehensions about Mary, whom she loved as well as her
+exhausted heart could love, harassed her mind. After a sleepless,
+feverish night she had a violent fit of coughing, and burst a
+blood-vessel. The physician, who was in the house, was sent for, and
+when he left the patient, Mary, with an authoritative voice, insisted on
+knowing his real opinion. Reluctantly he gave it, that her friend was in
+a critical state; and if she passed the approaching winter in England,
+he <a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>imagined she would die in the spring; a season fatal to consumptive
+disorders. The spring!&mdash;Her husband was then expected.&mdash;Gracious Heaven,
+could she bear all this.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days her father breathed his last. The horrid sensations his
+death occasioned were too poignant to be durable: and Ann's danger, and
+her own situation, made Mary deliberate what mode of conduct she should
+pursue. She feared this event might hasten the return of her husband,
+and prevent her putting into execution a plan she had determined on. It
+was to accompany Ann to a more salubrious climate.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_VIII" id="CHAP_VIII"></a>CHAP. VIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>I mentioned before, that Mary had never had any particular attachment,
+to give rise to the disgust that daily gained ground. Her friendship for
+Ann occupied her heart, and resembled a passion. She had had, indeed,
+several transient likings; but they did not amount to love. The society
+of men of genius delighted her, and improved her faculties. With beings
+of this class she did not often meet; it is a rare genus; her first
+favourites were men past the meridian of life, and of a philosophic
+turn.</p>
+
+<p>Determined on going to the South of France, or Lisbon; she wrote to the
+man she had promised to obey. The <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>physicians had said change of air was
+necessary for her as well as her friend. She mentioned this, and added,
+"Her comfort, almost her existence, depended on the recovery of the
+invalid she wished to attend; and that should she neglect to follow the
+medical advice she had received, she should never forgive herself, or
+those who endeavoured to prevent her." Full of her design, she wrote
+with more than usual freedom; and this letter was like most of her
+others, a transcript of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"This dear friend," she exclaimed, "I love for her agreeable qualities,
+and substantial virtues. Continual attention to her health, and the
+tender office of a nurse, have created an affection very like a maternal
+one&mdash;I am her only support, she leans on me&mdash;<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>could I forsake the
+forsaken, and break the bruised reed&mdash;No&mdash;I would die first! I must&mdash;I
+will go."</p>
+
+<p>She would have added, "you would very much oblige me by consenting;" but
+her heart revolted&mdash;and irresolutely she wrote something about wishing
+him happy.&mdash;"Do I not wish all the world well?" she cried, as she
+subscribed her name&mdash;It was blotted, the letter sealed in a hurry, and
+sent out of her sight; and she began to prepare for her journey.</p>
+
+<p>By the return of the post she received an answer; it contained some
+common-place remarks on her romantic friendship, as he termed it; "But
+as the physicians advised change of air, he had no objection."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_IX" id="CHAP_IX"></a>CHAP. IX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There was nothing now to retard their journey; and Mary chose Lisbon
+rather than France, on account of its being further removed from the
+only person she wished not to see.</p>
+
+<p>They set off accordingly for Falmouth, in their way to that city. The
+journey was of use to Ann, and Mary's spirits were raised by her
+recovered looks&mdash;She had been in despair&mdash;now she gave way to hope, and
+was intoxicated with it. On ship-board Ann always remained in the cabin;
+the sight of the water terrified her: on the contrary, Mary, after she
+was gone to bed, or when she fell asleep in the day, went on deck,
+conversed <a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>with the sailors, and surveyed the boundless expanse before
+her with delight. One instant she would regard the ocean, the next the
+beings who braved its fury. Their insensibility and want of fear, she
+could not name courage; their thoughtless mirth was quite of an animal
+kind, and their feelings as impetuous and uncertain as the element they
+plowed.</p>
+
+<p>They had only been a week at sea when they hailed the rock of Lisbon,
+and the next morning anchored at the castle. After the customary visits,
+they were permitted to go on shore, about three miles from the city; and
+while one of the crew, who understood the language, went to procure them
+one of the ugly carriages peculiar to the country, they waited in the
+Irish convent, which is situated close to the Tagus.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>Some of the people offered to conduct them into the church, where there
+was a fine organ playing; Mary followed them, but Ann preferred staying
+with a nun she had entered into conversation with.</p>
+
+<p>One of the nuns, who had a sweet voice, was singing; Mary was struck
+with awe; her heart joined in the devotion; and tears of gratitude and
+tenderness flowed from her eyes. My Father, I thank thee! burst from
+her&mdash;words were inadequate to express her feelings. Silently, she
+surveyed the lofty dome; heard unaccustomed sounds; and saw faces,
+strange ones, that she could not yet greet with fraternal love.</p>
+
+<p>In an unknown land, she considered that the Being she adored inhabited
+eternity, was ever present in unnumbered worlds. When she had not any
+one she loved near her, she was particularly sen<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>sible of the presence
+of her Almighty Friend.</p>
+
+<p>The arrival of the carriage put a stop to her speculations; it was to
+conduct them to an hotel, fitted up for the reception of invalids.
+Unfortunately, before they could reach it there was a violent shower of
+rain; and as the wind was very high, it beat against the leather
+curtains, which they drew along the front of the vehicle, to shelter
+themselves from it; but it availed not, some of the rain forced its way,
+and Ann felt the effects of it, for she caught cold, spite of Mary's
+precautions.</p>
+
+<p>As is the custom, the rest of the invalids, or lodgers, sent to enquire
+after their health; and as soon as Ann left her chamber, in which her
+complaints seldom confined her the whole day, they came in person to pay
+their compli<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>ments. Three fashionable females, and two gentlemen; the
+one a brother of the eldest of the young ladies, and the other an
+invalid, who came, like themselves, for the benefit of the air. They
+entered into conversation immediately.</p>
+
+<p>People who meet in a strange country, and are all together in a house,
+soon get acquainted, without the formalities which attend visiting in
+separate houses, where they are surrounded by domestic friends. Ann was
+particularly delighted at meeting with agreeable society; a little
+hectic fever generally made her low-spirited in the morning, and lively
+in the evening, when she wished for company. Mary, who only thought of
+her, determined to cultivate their acquaintance, as she knew, that if
+her mind could be diverted, her body might gain strength.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>They were all musical, and proposed having little concerts. One of the
+gentlemen played on the violin, and the other on the german-flute. The
+instruments were brought in, with all the eagerness that attends putting
+a new scheme in execution.</p>
+
+<p>Mary had not said much, for she was diffident; she seldom joined in
+general conversations; though her quickness of penetration enabled her
+soon to enter into the characters of those she conversed with; and her
+sensibility made her desirous of pleasing every human creature. Besides,
+if her mind was not occupied by any particular sorrow, or study, she
+caught reflected pleasure, and was glad to see others happy, though
+their mirth did not interest her.</p>
+
+<p>This day she was continually thinking of Ann's recovery, and encouraging
+<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>the cheerful hopes, which though they dissipated the spirits that had
+been condensed by melancholy, yet made her wish to be silent. The music,
+more than the conversation, disturbed her reflections; but not at first.
+The gentleman who played on the german-flute, was a handsome, well-bred,
+sensible man; and his observations, if not original, were pertinent.</p>
+
+<p>The other, who had not said much, began to touch the violin, and played
+a little Scotch ballad; he brought such a thrilling sound out of the
+instrument, that Mary started, and looking at him with more attention
+than she had done before, and saw, in a face rather ugly, strong lines
+of genius. His manners were awkward, that kind of awkwardness which is
+often found in literary men: he seemed a thinker, and delivered his
+<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>opinions in elegant expressions, and musical tones of voice.</p>
+
+<p>When the concert was over, they all retired to their apartments. Mary
+always slept with Ann, as she was subject to terrifying dreams; and
+frequently in the night was obliged to be supported, to avoid
+suffocation. They chatted about their new acquaintance in their own
+apartment, and, with respect to the gentlemen, differed in opinion.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_X" id="CHAP_X"></a>CHAP. X.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Every day almost they saw their new acquaintance; and civility produced
+intimacy. Mary sometimes left her friend with them; while she indulged
+herself in viewing new modes of life, and searching out the causes which
+produced them. She had a metaphysical turn, which inclined her to
+reflect on every object that passed by her; and her mind was not like a
+mirror, which receives every floating image, but does not retain them:
+she had not any prejudices, for every opinion was examined before it was
+adopted.</p>
+
+<p>The Roman Catholic ceremonies attracted her attention, and gave rise to
+conversations when they all met; and <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>one of the gentlemen continually
+introduced deistical notions, when he ridiculed the pageantry they all
+were surprised at observing. Mary thought of both the subjects, the
+Romish tenets, and the deistical doubts; and though not a sceptic,
+thought it right to examine the evidence on which her faith was built.
+She read Butler's Analogy, and some other authors: and these researches
+made her a christian from conviction, and she learned charity,
+particularly with respect to sectaries; saw that apparently good and
+solid arguments might take their rise from different points of view; and
+she rejoiced to find that those she should not concur with had some
+reason on their side.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XI" id="CHAP_XI"></a>CHAP. XI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When I mentioned the three ladies, I said they were fashionable women;
+and it was all the praise, as a faithful historian, I could bestow on
+them; the only thing in which they were consistent. I forgot to mention
+that they were all of one family, a mother, her daughter, and niece. The
+daughter was sent by her physician, to avoid a northerly winter; the
+mother, her niece, and nephew, accompanied her.</p>
+
+<p>They were people of rank; but unfortunately, though of an ancient
+family, the title had descended to a very remote branch&mdash;a branch they
+took care to be <a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>intimate with; and servilely copied the Countess's
+airs. Their minds were shackled with a set of notions concerning
+propriety, the fitness of things for the world's eye, trammels which
+always hamper weak people. What will the world say? was the first thing
+that was thought of, when they intended doing any thing they had not
+done before. Or what would the Countess do on such an occasion? And when
+this question was answered, the right or wrong was discovered without
+the trouble of their having any idea of the matter in their own heads.
+This same Countess was a fine planet, and the satellites observed a most
+harmonic dance around her.</p>
+
+<p>After this account it is scarcely necessary to add, that their minds had
+received very little cultivation. They were taught French, Italian, and
+Spanish; English <a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>was their vulgar tongue. And what did they learn?
+Hamlet will tell you&mdash;words&mdash;words. But let me not forget that they
+squalled Italian songs in the true <i>gusto</i>. Without having any seeds
+sown in their understanding, or the affections of the heart set to work,
+they were brought out of their nursery, or the place they were secluded
+in, to prevent their faces being common; like blazing stars, to
+captivate Lords.</p>
+
+<p>They were pretty, and hurrying from one party of pleasure to another,
+occasioned the disorder which required change of air. The mother, if we
+except her being near twenty years older, was just the same creature;
+and these additional years only served to make her more tenaciously
+adhere to her habits of folly, and decide with stupid gravity, some
+trivial points of ceremony, as a <a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>matter of the last importance; of
+which she was a competent judge, from having lived in the fashionable
+world so long: that world to which the ignorant look up as we do to the
+sun.</p>
+
+<p>It appears to me that every creature has some notion&mdash;or rather relish,
+of the sublime. Riches, and the consequent state, are the sublime of
+weak minds:&mdash;These images fill, nay, are too big for their narrow souls.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, which they had engaged to spend together, Ann was so ill,
+that Mary was obliged to send an apology for not attending the
+tea-table. The apology brought them on the carpet; and the mother, with
+a look of solemn importance, turned to the sick man, whose name was
+Henry, and said;</p>
+
+<p>"Though people of the first fashion are frequently at places of this
+kind, inti<a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>mate with they know not who; yet I do not choose that my
+daughter, whose family is so respectable, should be intimate with any
+one she would blush to know elsewhere. It is only on that account, for I
+never suffer her to be with any one but in my company," added she,
+sitting more erect; and a smile of self-complacency dressed her
+countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"I have enquired concerning these strangers, and find that the one who
+has the most dignity in her manners, is really a woman of fortune."
+"Lord, mamma, how ill she dresses:" mamma went on; "She is a romantic
+creature, you must not copy her, miss; yet she is an heiress of the
+large fortune in &mdash;&mdash;shire, of which you may remember to have heard the
+Countess speak the night you had on the danc<a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>ing-dress that was so much
+admired; but she is married."</p>
+
+<p>She then told them the whole story as she heard it from her maid, who
+picked it out of Mary's servant. "She is a foolish creature, and this
+friend that she pays as much attention to as if she was a lady of
+quality, is a beggar." "Well, how strange!" cried the girls.</p>
+
+<p>"She is, however, a charming creature," said her nephew. Henry sighed,
+and strode across the room once or twice; then took up his violin, and
+played the air which first struck Mary; he had often heard her praise
+it.</p>
+
+<p>The music was uncommonly melodious, "And came stealing on the senses
+like the sweet south." The well-known sounds reached Mary as she sat by
+her friend&mdash;she listened without knowing that she did&mdash;and shed tears
+<a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>almost without being conscious of it. Ann soon fell asleep, as she had
+taken an opiate. Mary, then brooding over her fears, began to imagine
+she had deceived herself&mdash;Ann was still very ill; hope had beguiled many
+heavy hours; yet she was displeased with herself for admitting this
+welcome guest.&mdash;And she worked up her mind to such a degree of anxiety,
+that she determined, once more, to seek medical aid.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner did she determine, than she ran down with a discomposed look,
+to enquire of the ladies who she should send for. When she entered the
+room she could not articulate her fears&mdash;it appeared like pronouncing
+Ann's sentence of death; her faultering tongue dropped some broken
+words, and she remained silent. The ladies wondered that a person of her
+sense should be so little <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>mistress of herself; and began to administer
+some common-place comfort, as, that it was our duty to submit to the
+will of Heaven, and the like trite consolations, which Mary did not
+answer; but waving her hand, with an air of impatience, she exclaimed,
+"I cannot live without her!&mdash;I have no other friend; if I lose her, what
+a desart will the world be to me." "No other friend," re-echoed they,
+"have you not a husband?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary shrunk back, and was alternately pale and red. A delicate sense of
+propriety prevented her replying; and recalled her bewildered
+reason.&mdash;Assuming, in consequence of her recollection, a more composed
+manner, she made the intended enquiry, and left the room. Henry's eyes
+followed her while the females very freely animadverted on her strange
+behaviour.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XII" id="CHAP_XII"></a>CHAP. XII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The physician was sent for; his prescription afforded Ann a little
+temporary relief; and they again joined the circle. Unfortunately, the
+weather happened to be constantly wet for more than a week, and confined
+them to the house. Ann then found the ladies not so agreeable; when they
+sat whole hours together, the thread-bare topics were exhausted; and,
+but for cards or music, the long evenings would have been yawned away in
+listless indolence.</p>
+
+<p>The bad weather had had as ill an effect on Henry as on Ann. He was
+frequently very thoughtful, or rather melancholy; this melancholy would
+of <a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>itself have attracted Mary's notice, if she had not found his
+conversation so infinitely superior to the rest of the group. When she
+conversed with him, all the faculties of her soul unfolded themselves;
+genius animated her expressive countenance and the most graceful,
+unaffected gestures gave energy to her discourse.</p>
+
+<p>They frequently discussed very important subjects, while the rest were
+singing or playing cards, nor were they observed for doing so, as Henry,
+whom they all were pleased with, in the way of gallantry shewed them all
+more attention than her. Besides, as there was nothing alluring in her
+dress or manner, they never dreamt of her being preferred to them.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was a man of learning; he had also studied mankind, and knew many
+of the intricacies of the human heart, from <a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>having felt the infirmities
+of his own. His taste was just, as it had a standard&mdash;Nature, which he
+observed with a critical eye. Mary could not help thinking that in his
+company her mind expanded, as he always went below the surface. She
+increased her stock of ideas, and her taste was improved.</p>
+
+<p>He was also a pious man; his rational religious sentiments received
+warmth from his sensibility; and, except on very particular occasions,
+kept it in proper bounds; these sentiments had likewise formed his
+temper; he was gentle, and easily to be intreated. The ridiculous
+ceremonies they were every day witness to, led them into what are termed
+grave subjects, and made him explain his opinions, which, at other
+times, he was neither ashamed of, nor unnecessarily brought forward to
+notice.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XIII" id="CHAP_XIII"></a>CHAP. XIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the weather began to clear up, Mary sometimes rode out alone,
+purposely to view the ruins that still remained of the earthquake: or
+she would ride to the banks of the Tagus, to feast her eyes with the
+sight of that magnificent river. At other times she would visit the
+churches, as she was particularly fond of seeing historical paintings.</p>
+
+<p>One of these visits gave rise to the subject, and the whole party
+descanted on it; but as the ladies could not handle it well, they soon
+adverted to portraits; and talked of the attitudes and characters in
+which they should wish to be drawn. Mary did not fix on one&mdash;when<a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>
+Henry, with more apparent warmth than usual, said, "I would give the
+world for your picture, with the expression I have seen in your face,
+when you have been supporting your friend."</p>
+
+<p>This delicate compliment did not gratify her vanity, but it reached her
+heart. She then recollected that she had once sat for her picture&mdash;for
+whom was it designed? For a boy! Her cheeks flushed with indignation, so
+strongly did she feel an emotion of contempt at having been thrown
+away&mdash;given in with an estate.</p>
+
+<p>As Mary again gave way to hope, her mind was more disengaged; and her
+thoughts were employed about the objects around her.</p>
+
+<p>She visited several convents, and found that solitude only eradicates
+some passions, to give strength to others; the <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>most baneful ones. She
+saw that religion does not consist in ceremonies; and that many prayers
+may fall from the lips without purifying the heart.</p>
+
+<p>They who imagine they can be religious without governing their tempers,
+or exercising benevolence in its most extensive sense, must certainly
+allow, that their religious duties are only practiced from selfish
+principles; how then can they be called good? The pattern of all
+goodness went about <i>doing</i> good. Wrapped up in themselves, the nuns
+only thought of inferior gratifications. And a number of intrigues were
+carried on to accelerate certain points on which their hearts were
+fixed:</p>
+
+<p>Such as obtaining offices of trust or authority; or avoiding those that
+were servile or laborious. In short, when they could be neither wives
+nor mothers, <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>they aimed at being superiors, and became the most selfish
+creatures in the world: the passions that were curbed gave strength to
+the appetites, or to those mean passions which only tend to provide for
+the gratification of them. Was this seclusion from the world? or did
+they conquer its vanities or avoid its vexations?</p>
+
+<p>In these abodes the unhappy individual, who, in the first paroxysm of
+grief flies to them for refuge, finds too late she took a wrong step.
+The same warmth which determined her will make her repent; and sorrow,
+the rust of the mind, will never have a chance of being rubbed off by
+sensible conversation, or new-born affections of the heart.</p>
+
+<p>She will find that those affections that have once been called forth and
+<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>strengthened by exercise, are only smothered, not killed, by
+disappointment; and that in one form or other discontent will corrode
+the heart, and produce those maladies of the imagination, for which
+there is no specific.</p>
+
+<p>The community at large Mary disliked; but pitied many of them whose
+private distresses she was informed of; and to pity and relieve were the
+same things with her.</p>
+
+<p>The exercise of her various virtues gave vigor to her genius, and
+dignity to her mind; she was sometimes inconsiderate, and violent; but
+never mean or cunning.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XIV" id="CHAP_XIV"></a>CHAP. XIV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Portuguese are certainly the most uncivilized nation in Europe. Dr.
+Johnson would have said, "They have the least mind.". And can such serve
+their Creator in spirit and in truth? No, the gross ritual of Romish
+ceremonies is all they can comprehend: they can do penance, but not
+conquer their revenge, or lust. Religion, or love, has never humanized
+their hearts; they want the vital part; the mere body worships. Taste is
+unknown; Gothic finery, and unnatural decorations, which they term
+ornaments, are conspicuous in their churches and dress. Reverence for
+<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>mental excellence is only to be found in a polished nation.</p>
+
+<p>Could the contemplation of such a people gratify Mary's heart? No: she
+turned disgusted from the prospects&mdash;turned to a man of refinement.
+Henry had been some time ill and low-spirited; Mary would have been
+attentive to any one in that situation; but to him she was particularly
+so; she thought herself bound in gratitude, on account of his constant
+endeavours to amuse Ann, and prevent her dwelling on the dreary prospect
+before her, which sometimes she could not help anticipating with a kind
+of quiet despair.</p>
+
+<p>She found some excuse for going more frequently into the room they all
+met in; nay, she avowed her desire to amuse him: offered to read to him,
+and tried to draw him into amusing conversations; <a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>and when she was full
+of these little schemes, she looked at him with a degree of tenderness
+that she was not conscious of. This divided attention was of use to her,
+and prevented her continually thinking of Ann, whose fluctuating
+disorder often gave rise to false hopes.</p>
+
+<p>A trifling thing occurred now which occasioned Mary some uneasiness. Her
+maid, a well-looking girl, had captivated the clerk of a neighbouring
+compting-house. As the match was an advantageous one, Mary could not
+raise any objection to it, though at this juncture it was very
+disagreeable to her to have a stranger about her person. However, the
+girl consented to delay the marriage, as she had some affection for her
+mistress; and, besides, looked forward to Ann's death as a time of
+harvest.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>Henry's illness was not alarming, it was rather pleasing, as it gave
+Mary an excuse to herself for shewing him how much she was interested
+about him; and giving little artless proofs of affection, which the
+purity of her heart made her never wish to restrain.</p>
+
+<p>The only visible return he made was not obvious to common observers. He
+would sometimes fix his eyes on her, and take them off with a sigh that
+was coughed away; or when he was leisurely walking into the room, and
+did not expect to see her, he would quicken his steps, and come up to
+her with eagerness to ask some trivial question. In the same style, he
+would try to detain her when he had nothing to say&mdash;or said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Ann did not take notice of either his or Mary's behaviour, nor did she
+suspect <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>that he was a favourite, on any other account than his
+appearing neither well nor happy. She had often seen that when a person
+was unfortunate, Mary's pity might easily be mistaken for love, and,
+indeed, it was a temporary sensation of that kind. Such it was&mdash;why it
+was so, let others define, I cannot argue against instincts. As reason
+is cultivated in man, they are supposed to grow weaker, and this may
+have given rise to the assertion, "That as judgment improves, genius
+evaporates."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XV" id="CHAP_XV"></a>CHAP. XV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>One morning they set out to visit the aqueduct; though the day was very
+fine when they left home, a very heavy shower fell before they reached
+it; they lengthened their ride, the clouds dispersed, and the sun came
+from behind them uncommonly bright.</p>
+
+<p>Mary would fain have persuaded Ann not to have left the carriage; but
+she was in spirits, and obviated all her objections, and insisted on
+walking, tho' the ground was damp. But her strength was not equal to her
+spirits; she was soon obliged to return to the carriage so much
+fatigued, that she fainted, and remained insensible a long time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>Henry would have supported her; but Mary would not permit him; her
+recollection was instantaneous, and she feared sitting on the damp
+ground might do him a material injury: she was on that account positive,
+though the company did not guess the cause of her being so. As to
+herself, she did not fear bodily pain; and, when her mind was agitated,
+she could endure the greatest fatigue without appearing sensible of it.</p>
+
+<p>When Ann recovered, they returned slowly home; she was carried to bed,
+and the next morning Mary thought she observed a visible change for the
+worse. The physician was sent for, who pronounced her to be in the most
+imminent danger.</p>
+
+<p>All Mary's former fears now returned like a torrent, and carried every
+other care away; she even added to her pre<a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>sent anguish by upbraiding
+herself for her late tranquillity&mdash;it haunted her in the form of a
+crime.</p>
+
+<p>The disorder made the most rapid advances&mdash;there was no hope!&mdash;Bereft of
+it, Mary again was tranquil; but it was a very different kind of
+tranquillity. She stood to brave the approaching storm, conscious she
+only could be overwhelmed by it.</p>
+
+<p>She did not think of Henry, or if her thoughts glanced towards him, it
+was only to find fault with herself for suffering a thought to have
+strayed from Ann.&mdash;Ann!&mdash;this dear friend was soon torn from her&mdash;she
+died suddenly as Mary was assisting her to walk across the room.&mdash;The
+first string was severed from her heart&mdash;and this "slow, sudden-death"
+disturbed her reasoning faculties; she seemed stunned by it; unable to
+reflect, or even to feel her misery.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>The body was stolen out of the house the second night, and Mary refused
+to see her former companions. She desired her maid to conclude her
+marriage, and request her intended husband to inform her when the first
+merchantman was to leave the port, as the packet had just sailed, and
+she determined not to stay in that hated place any longer than was
+absolutely necessary.</p>
+
+<p>She then sent to request the ladies to visit her; she wished to avoid a
+parade of grief&mdash;her sorrows were her own, and appeared to her not to
+admit of increase or softening. She was right; the sight of them did not
+affect her, or turn the stream of her sullen sorrow; the black wave
+rolled along in the same course, it was equal to her where she cast her
+eyes; all was impenetrable gloom.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XVI" id="CHAP_XVI"></a>CHAP. XVI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Soon after the ladies left her, she received a message from Henry,
+requesting, as she saw company, to be permitted to visit her: she
+consented, and he entered immediately, with an unassured pace. She ran
+eagerly up to him&mdash;saw the tear trembling in his eye, and his
+countenance softened by the tenderest compassion; the hand which pressed
+hers seemed that of a fellow-creature. She burst into tears; and, unable
+to restrain them, she hid her face with both her hands; these tears
+relieved her, (she had before had a difficulty in breathing,) and she
+sat down by him more composed <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>than she had appeared since Ann's death;
+but her conversation was incoherent.</p>
+
+<p>She called herself "a poor disconsolate creature!"&mdash;"Mine is a selfish
+grief," she exclaimed&mdash;"Yet; Heaven is my witness, I do not wish her
+back now she has reached those peaceful mansions, where the weary rest.
+Her pure spirit is happy; but what a wretch am I!"</p>
+
+<p>Henry forgot his cautious reserve. "Would you allow me to call you
+friend?" said he in a hesitating voice. "I feel, dear girl, the tendered
+interest in whatever concerns thee." His eyes spoke the rest. They were
+both silent a few moments; then Henry resumed the conversation. "I have
+also been acquainted with grief! I mourn the loss of a woman who was not
+worthy of my regard. Let me give thee some <a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>account of the man who now
+solicits thy friendship; and who, from motives of the purest
+benevolence, wishes to give comfort to thy wounded heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I have myself," said he, mournfully, "shaken hands with happiness, and
+am dead to the world; I wait patiently for my dissolution; but, for
+thee, Mary, there may be many bright days in store."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible," replied she, in a peevish tone, as if he had insulted her
+by the supposition; her feelings were so much in unison with his, that
+she was in love with misery.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at her impatience, and went on. "My father died before I knew
+him, and my mother was so attached to my eldest brother, that she took
+very little pains to fit me for the profession to which I was destined:<a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>
+and, may I tell thee, I left my family, and, in many different stations,
+rambled about the world; saw mankind in every rank of life; and, in
+order to be independent, exerted those talents Nature has given me:
+these exertions improved my understanding; and the miseries I was
+witness to, gave a keener edge to my sensibility. My constitution is
+naturally weak; and, perhaps, two or three lingering disorders in my
+youth, first gave me a habit of reflecting, and enabled me to obtain
+some dominion over my passions. At least," added he, stifling a sigh,
+"over the violent ones, though I fear, refinement and reflection only
+renders the tender ones more tyrannic.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you already I have been in love, and disappointed&mdash;the
+<a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>object is now no more; let her faults sleep with her! Yet this passion
+has pervaded my whole soul, and mixed itself with all my affections and
+pursuits.&mdash;I am not peacefully indifferent; yet it is only to my violin
+I tell the sorrows I now confide with thee. The object I loved forfeited
+my esteem; yet, true to the sentiment, my fancy has too frequently
+delighted to form a creature that I could love, that could convey to my
+soul sensations which the gross part of mankind have not any conception
+of."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped, as Mary seemed lost in thought; but as she was still in a
+listening attitude, continued his little narrative. "I kept up an
+irregular correspondence with my mother; my brother's extravagance and
+ingratitude had almost broken her heart, and <a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>made her feel something
+like a pang of remorse, on account of her behaviour to me. I hastened to
+comfort her&mdash;and was a comfort to her.</p>
+
+<p>"My declining health prevented my taking orders, as I had intended; but
+I with warmth entered into literary pursuits; perhaps my heart, not
+having an object, made me embrace the substitute with more eagerness.
+But, do not imagine I have always been a die-away swain. No: I have
+frequented the cheerful haunts of men, and wit!&mdash;enchanting wit! has
+made many moments fly free from care. I am too fond of the elegant arts;
+and woman&mdash;lovely woman! thou hast charmed me, though, perhaps, it would
+not be easy to find one to whom my reason would allow me to be constant.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>"I have now only to tell you, that my mother insisted on my spending
+this winter in a warmer climate; and I fixed on Lisbon, as I had before
+visited the Continent." He then looked Mary full in the face; and, with
+the most insinuating accents, asked "if he might hope for her
+friendship? If she would rely on him as if he was her father; and that
+the tenderest father could not more anxiously interest himself in the
+fate of a darling child, than he did in her's."</p>
+
+<p>Such a crowd of thoughts all at once rushed into Mary's mind, that she
+in vain attempted to express the sentiments which were most predominant.
+Her heart longed to receive a new guest; there was a void in it:
+accustomed to have some one to love, she was alone, and comfortless, if
+not engrossed by a particular affection.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>Henry saw her distress, and not to increase it, left the room. He had
+exerted himself to turn her thoughts into a new channel, and had
+succeeded; she thought of him till she began to chide herself for
+defrauding the dead, and, determining to grieve for Ann, she dwelt on
+Henry's misfortunes and ill health; and the interest he took in her fate
+was a balm to her sick mind. She did not reason on the subject; but she
+felt he was attached to her: lost in this delirium, she never asked
+herself what kind of an affection she had for him, or what it tended to;
+nor did she know that love and friendship are very distinct; she thought
+with rapture, that there was one person in the world who had an
+affection for her, and that person she admired&mdash;had a friendship for.</p>
+
+<p>He had called her his dear girl; the words might have fallen from him by
+<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>accident; but they did not fall to the ground. My child! His child,
+what an association of ideas! If I had had a father, such a father!&mdash;She
+could not dwell on the thoughts, the wishes which obtruded themselves.
+Her mind was unhinged, and passion unperceived filled her whole soul.
+Lost, in waking dreams, she considered and reconsidered Henry's account
+of himself; till she actually thought she would tell Ann&mdash;a bitter
+recollection then roused her out of her reverie; and aloud she begged
+forgiveness of her.</p>
+
+<p>By these kind of conflicts the day was lengthened; and when she went to
+bed, the night passed away in feverish slumbers; though they did not
+refresh her, she was spared the labour of thinking, of restraining her
+imagination; it sported uncontrouled; but took its colour from her
+waking train of thoughts. One in<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>stant she was supporting her dying
+mother; then Ann was breathing her last, and Henry was comforting her.</p>
+
+<p>The unwelcome light visited her languid eyes; yet, I must tell the
+truth, she thought she should see Henry, and this hope set her spirits
+in motion: but they were quickly depressed by her maid, who came to tell
+her that she had heard of a vessel on board of which she could be
+accommodated, and that there was to be another female passenger on
+board, a vulgar one; but perhaps she would be more useful on that
+account&mdash;Mary did not want a companion.</p>
+
+<p>As she had given orders for her passage to be engaged in the first
+vessel that sailed, she could not now retract; and must prepare for the
+lonely voyage, as the Captain intended taking advantage of the first
+fair wind. She had too much <a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>strength of mind to waver in her
+determination but to determine wrung her very heart, opened all her old
+wounds, and made them bleed afresh. What was she to do? where go? Could
+she set a seal to a hasty vow, and tell a deliberate lie; promise to
+love one man, when the image of another was ever present to her&mdash;her
+soul revolted. "I might gain the applause of the world by such mock
+heroism; but should I not forfeit my own? forfeit thine, my father!"</p>
+
+<p>There is a solemnity in the shortest ejaculation, which, for a while,
+stills the tumult of passion. Mary's mind had been thrown off its poise;
+her devotion had been, perhaps, more fervent for some time past; but
+less regular. She forgot that happiness was not to be found on earth,
+and built a terrestrial paradise liable to be destroyed by the <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>first
+serious thought: when, she reasoned she became inexpressibly sad, to
+render life bearable she gave way to fancy&mdash;this was madness.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days she must again go to sea; the weather was very
+tempestuous&mdash;what of that, the tempest in her soul rendered every other
+trifling&mdash;it was not the contending elements, but <i>herself</i> she feared!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XVII" id="CHAP_XVII"></a>CHAP. XVII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In order to gain strength to support the expected interview, she went
+out in a carriage. The day was fine; but all nature was to her a
+universal blank; she could neither enjoy it, nor weep that she could
+not. She passed by the ruins of an old monastery on a very high hill she
+got out to walk amongst the ruins; the wind blew violently, she did not
+avoid its fury, on the contrary, wildly bid it blow on, and seemed glad
+to contend with it, or rather walk against it. Exhausted she returned to
+the carriage was soon at home, and in the old room.</p>
+
+<p>Henry started at the sight of her altered appearance; the day before her
+com<a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>plexion had been of the most pallid hue; but now her cheeks were
+flushed, and her eyes enlivened with a false vivacity, an unusual fire.
+He was not well, his illness was apparent in his countenance, and he
+owned he had not closed his eyes all night; this roused her dormant
+tenderness, she forgot they were so soon to part-engrossed by the
+present happiness of seeing, of hearing him.</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice she essayed to tell him that she was, in a few days, to
+depart; but she could not; she was irresolute; it will do to-morrow;
+should the wind change they could not sail in such a hurry; thus she
+thought, and insensibly grew more calm. The Ladies prevailed on her to
+spend the evening with them; but she retired very early to rest, and sat
+on the side of her bed several hours, then threw herself on it, and
+waited for the dreaded to-morrow.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XVIII" id="CHAP_XVIII"></a>CHAP. XVIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The ladies heard that her servant was to be married that day, and that
+she was to sail in the vessel which was then clearing out at the
+Custom-house. Henry heard, but did not make any remarks; and Mary called
+up all her fortitude to support her, and enable her to hide from the
+females her internal struggles. She durst not encounter Henry's glances
+when she found he had been informed of her intention; and, trying to
+draw a veil over her wretched state of mind, she talked incessantly, she
+knew not what; flashes of wit burst from her, and when she began to
+laugh she could not stop herself.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>Henry smiled at some of her sallies, and looked at her with such
+benignity and compassion, that he recalled her scattered thoughts; and,
+the ladies going to dress for dinner, they were left alone; and remained
+silent a few moments: after the noisy conversation it appeared solemn.
+Henry began. "You are going, Mary, and going by yourself; your mind is
+not in a state to be left to its own operations&mdash;yet I cannot, dissuade
+you; if I attempted to do it, I should ill deserve the title I wish to
+merit. I only think of your happiness; could I obey the strongest
+impulse of my heart, I should accompany thee to England; but such a step
+might endanger your future peace."</p>
+
+<p>Mary, then, with all the frankness which marked her character, explained
+her situation to him and mentioned her <a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>fatal tie with such disgust that
+he trembled for her. "I cannot see him; he is not the man formed for me
+to love!" Her delicacy did not restrain her, for her dislike to her
+husband had taken root in her mind long before she knew Henry. Did she
+not fix on Lisbon rather than France on purpose to avoid him? and if Ann
+had been in tolerable health she would have flown with her to some
+remote corner to have escaped from him.</p>
+
+<p>"I intend," said Henry, "to follow you in the next packet; where shall I
+hear of your health?" "Oh! let me hear of thine," replied Mary. "I am
+well, very well; but thou art very ill&mdash;thy health is in the most
+precarious state." She then mentioned her intention of going to Ann's
+relations. "I am her representative, I have duties to fulfil for her:
+during my voyage I <a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>have time enough for reflection; though I think I
+have already determined."</p>
+
+<p>"Be not too hasty, my child," interrupted Henry; "far be it from me to
+persuade thee to do violence to thy feelings&mdash;but consider that all thy
+future life may probably take its colour from thy present mode of
+conduct. Our affections as well as our sentiments are fluctuating; you
+will not perhaps always either think or feel as you do at present: the
+object you now shun may appear in a different light." He paused. "In
+advising thee in this style, I have only thy good at heart, Mary."</p>
+
+<p>She only answered to expostulate. "My affections are involuntary&mdash;yet
+they can only be fixed by reflection, and when they are they make quite
+a part of my soul, are interwoven in it, <a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>animate my actions, and form
+my taste: certain qualities are calculated to call forth my sympathies,
+and make me all I am capable of being. The governing affection gives its
+stamp to the rest&mdash;because I am capable of loving one, I have that kind
+of charity to all my fellow-creatures which is not easily provoked.
+Milton has asserted, That earthly love is the scale by which to heavenly
+we may ascend."</p>
+
+<p>She went on with eagerness. "My opinions on some subjects are not
+wavering; my pursuit through life has ever been the same: in solitude
+were my sentiments formed; they are indelible, and nothing can efface
+them but death&mdash;No, death itself cannot efface them, or my soul must be
+created afresh, and not improved.<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a> Yet a little while am I parted from
+my Ann&mdash;I could not exist without the hope of seeing her again&mdash;I could
+not bear to think that time could wear away an affection that was
+founded on what is not liable to perish; you might as well attempt to
+persuade me that my soul is matter, and that its feelings arose from
+certain modifications of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear enthusiastic creature," whispered Henry, "how you steal into my
+soul." She still continued. "The same turn of mind which leads me to
+adore the Author of all Perfection&mdash;which leads me to conclude that he
+only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image-the shadows
+of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder
+strokes to them. I knew I am in some de<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>gree under the influence of a
+delusion&mdash;but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself 'am <i>of
+subtiler essence than the trodden clod</i>' these flights of the
+imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them. Every cause in
+nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule?
+have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they
+never be gratified? shall I never be happy? My feelings do not accord
+with the notion of solitary happiness. In a state of bliss, it will be
+the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly
+infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great
+part of our happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"With these notions can I conform to the maxims of worldly wisdom?<a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a> can
+I listen to the cold dictates of worldly prudence and bid my tumultuous
+passions cease to vex me, be still, find content in grovelling pursuits,
+and the admiration of the misjudging crowd, when it is only one I wish
+to please&mdash;one who could be all the world to me. Argue not with me, I am
+bound by human ties; but did my spirit ever promise to love, or could I
+consider when forced to bind myself&mdash;to take a vow, that at the awful
+day of judgment I must give an account of. My conscience does not smite
+me, and that Being who is greater than the internal monitor, may approve
+of what the world condemns; sensible that in Him I live, could I brave
+His presence, or hope in solitude to find peace, if I acted contrary to
+conviction, that the world <a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>might approve of my conduct&mdash;what could the
+world give to compensate for my own esteem? it is ever hostile and armed
+against the feeling heart!</p>
+
+<p>"Riches and honours await me, and the cold moralist might desire me to
+sit down and enjoy them&mdash;I cannot conquer my feelings, and till I do,
+what are these baubles to me? you may tell me I follow a fleeting good,
+an <i>ignis fatuus</i>; but this chase, these struggles prepare me for
+eternity&mdash;when I no longer see through a glass darkly I shall not reason
+about, but <i>feel</i> in what happiness consists."</p>
+
+<p>Henry had not attempted to interrupt her; he saw she was determined, and
+that these sentiments were not the effusion of the moment, but well
+digested ones, the result of strong affections, a high sense of honour,
+and respect for the <a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>source of all virtue and truth. He was startled, if
+not entirely convinced by her arguments; indeed her voice, her gestures
+were all persuasive.</p>
+
+<p>Some one now entered the room; he looked an answer to her long harangue;
+it was fortunate for him, or he might have been led to say what in a
+cooler moment he had determined to conceal; but were words necessary to
+reveal it? He wished not to influence her conduct&mdash;vain precaution; she
+knew she was beloved; and could she forget that such a man loved her, or
+rest satisfied with any inferior gratification. When passion first
+enters the heart, it is only a return of affection that is sought after,
+and every other remembrance and wish is blotted out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XIX" id="CHAP_XIX"></a>CHAP. XIX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Two days passed away without any particular conversation; Henry, trying
+to be indifferent, or to appear so, was more assiduous than ever. The
+conflict was too violent for his present state of health; the spirit was
+willing, but the body suffered; he lost his appetite, and looked
+wretchedly; his spirits were calmly low&mdash;the world seemed to fade
+away&mdash;what was that world to him that Mary did not inhabit; she lived
+not for him.</p>
+
+<p>He was mistaken; his affection was her only support; without this dear
+prop she had sunk into the grave of her lost&mdash;long-loved friend;&mdash;his
+attention <a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>snatched her from despair. Inscrutable are the ways of
+Heaven!</p>
+
+<p>The third day Mary was desired to prepare herself; for if the wind
+continued in the same point, they should set sail the next evening. She
+tried to prepare her mind, and her efforts were not useless she appeared
+less agitated than could have been expected, and talked of her voyage
+with composure. On great occasions she was generally calm and collected,
+her resolution would brace her unstrung nerves; but after the victory
+she had no triumph; she would sink into a state of moping melancholy,
+and feel ten-fold misery when the heroic enthusiasm was over.</p>
+
+<p>The morning of the day fixed on for her departure she was alone with
+Henry only a few moments, and an awkward kind of formality made them
+slip away <a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>without their having said much to each other. Henry was
+afraid to discover his passion, or give any other name to his regard but
+friendship; yet his anxious solicitude for her welfare was ever breaking
+out-while she as artlessly expressed again and again, her fears with
+respect to his declining health.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall soon meet," said he, with a faint smile; Mary smiled too; she
+caught the sickly beam; it was still fainter by being reflected, and not
+knowing what she wished to do, started up and left the room. When she
+was alone she regretted she had left him so precipitately. "The few
+precious moments I have thus thrown away may never return," she
+thought-the reflection led to misery.</p>
+
+<p>She waited for, nay, almost wished for the summons to depart. She could
+<a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>not avoid spending the intermediate time with the ladies and Henry; and
+the trivial conversations she was obliged to bear a part in harassed her
+more than can be well conceived.</p>
+
+<p>The summons came, and the whole party attended her to the vessel. For a
+while the remembrance of Ann banished her regret at parting with Henry,
+though his pale figure pressed on her sight; it may seem a paradox, but
+he was more present to her when she sailed; her tears then were all his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Ann!" thought Mary, "along this road we came, and near this
+spot you called me your guardian angel&mdash;and now I leave thee here! ah!
+no, I do not&mdash;thy spirit is not confined to its mouldering tenement!
+Tell me, thou soul of her I love, tell me, ah! whither art thou fled?"
+Ann <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>occupied her until they reached the ship.</p>
+
+<p>The anchor was weighed. Nothing can be more irksome than waiting to say
+farewel. As the day was serene, they accompanied her a little way, and
+then got into the boat; Henry was the last; he pressed her hand, it had
+not any life in it; she leaned over the side of the ship without looking
+at the boat, till it was so far distant, that she could not see the
+countenances of those that were in it: a mist spread itself over her
+sight&mdash;she longed to exchange one look&mdash;tried to recollect the
+last;&mdash;the universe contained no being but Henry!&mdash;The grief of parting
+with him had swept all others clean away. Her eyes followed the keel of
+the boat, and when she could no longer perceive its traces: she looked
+round on the wide waste of waters, thought of the <a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>precious moments
+which had been stolen from the waste of murdered time.</p>
+
+<p>She then descended into the cabin, regardless of the surrounding
+beauties of nature, and throwing herself on her bed in the little hole
+which was called the state-room&mdash;she wished to forget her existence. On
+this bed she remained two days, listening to the dashing waves, unable
+to close her eyes. A small taper made the darkness visible; and the
+third night, by its glimmering light, she wrote the following fragment.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor solitary wretch that I am; here alone do I listen to the whistling
+winds and dashing waves;&mdash;on no human support can I rest&mdash;when not lost
+to hope I found pleasure in the society of those rough beings; but now
+they appear not like my fellow creatures; no social ties draw me to
+<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>them. How long, how dreary has this day been; yet I scarcely wish it
+over&mdash;for what will to-morrow bring&mdash;to-morrow, and to-morrow will only
+be marked with unvaried characters of wretchedness.&mdash;Yet surely, I am
+not alone!"</p>
+
+<p>Her moistened eyes were lifted up to heaven; a crowd of thoughts darted
+into her mind, and pressing her hand against her forehead, as if to bear
+the intellectual weight, she tried, but tried in vain, to arrange them.
+"Father of Mercies, compose this troubled spirit: do I indeed wish it to
+be composed&mdash;to forget my Henry?" the <i>my</i>, the pen was directly drawn
+across in an agony.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XX" id="CHAP_XX"></a>CHAP. XX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The mate of the ship, who heard her stir, came to offer her some
+refreshment; and she, who formerly received every offer of kindness or
+civility with pleasure, now shrunk away disgusted: peevishly she desired
+him not to disturb her; but the words were hardly articulated when her
+heart smote her, she called him back, and requested something to drink.
+After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she fell into a
+death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on
+the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.</p>
+
+<p>The wind still continued contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she
+struggled <a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>with her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever,
+which sometimes gave her false spirits.</p>
+
+<p>The winds then became very tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and
+all the passengers appalled. Mary then left her bed, and went on deck,
+to survey the contending elements: the scene accorded with the present
+state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I may go home; the
+prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and descended into a
+yawning gulph&mdash;Not slower did her mounting soul return to earth,
+for&mdash;Ah! her treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled
+amongst the sails, which were quickly taken down; the wind would then
+die away, and the wild undirected waves rushed on every side with a
+tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the midst of <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>such a storm she
+was not dismayed; she felt herself independent.</p>
+
+<p>Just then one of the crew perceived a signal of distress; by the help of
+a glass he could plainly discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted
+about, for the rudder had been broken by the violence of the storm.
+Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by the crew on the brink of
+destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached it, and hailed
+the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting, loud
+cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and
+with ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched
+their boat in a moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the
+sea. Stowed between two casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the
+boat, and when a wave intercepted it from her <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>view&mdash;she ceased to
+breathe, or rather held her breath until it rose again.</p>
+
+<p>At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the
+poor trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in
+thanking that gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still
+the raging of the sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst the wretched crew was one poor woman, who fainted when she was
+hauled on board: Mary undressed her, and when she had recovered, and
+soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she required to recruit her
+strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned again to view the
+angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she thought of
+the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise of
+the sea; and the madness of the people&mdash;He <a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>only could speak peace to
+her troubled spirit! she grew more calm; the late transaction had
+gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of herself.</p>
+
+<p>One of the sailors, happening to say to another, "that he believed the
+world was going to be at an end;" this observation led her into a new
+train of thoughts: some of Handel's sublime compositions occurred to
+her, and she sung them to the grand accompaniment. The Lord God
+Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and ever!&mdash;Why then did
+she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew that He would
+bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of great
+tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
+was now her only confident. It was after midnight.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>"At this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the
+day of retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed;
+when all worldly distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I
+have not words to express the sublime images which the bare
+contemplation of this awful day raises in my mind. Then, indeed, the
+Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the tearful eye, and
+support the trembling heart&mdash;yet a little while He hideth his face, and
+the dun shades of sorrow, and the thick clouds of folly separate us from
+our God; but when the glad dawn of an eternal day breaks, we shall know
+even as we are known. Here we walk by faith, and not by sight; and we
+have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures of life <a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>which are
+but for a season, or look forward to the prize of our high calling, and
+with fortitude, and that wisdom which is from above, endeavour to bear
+the warfare of life. We know that many run the race; but he that
+striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one! How
+many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
+garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever
+lead into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing
+like happiness is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to
+pluck the fruit of immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
+guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will
+again be opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, fare<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>wel! and yet I
+cannot banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and
+live in futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.&mdash;I try
+to pierce the gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of
+knowledge will be gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to
+fix them. Every thing material must change; happiness and this
+fluctating principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality, and
+happiness,&mdash;what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
+conceptions ye create?"</p>
+
+<p>After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the
+Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXI" id="CHAP_XXI"></a>CHAP. XXI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mary rose early, refreshed by the seasonable rest, and went to visit the
+poor woman, whom she found quite recovered: and, on enquiry, heard that
+she had lately buried her husband, a common sailor; and that her only
+surviving child had been washed over-board the day before. Full of her
+own danger, she scarcely thought of her child till that was over; and
+then she gave way to boisterous emotions.</p>
+
+<p>Mary endeavoured to calm her at first, by sympathizing with her; and she
+tried to point out the only solid source of comfort but in doing this
+she encountered many difficulties; she found her grossly <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>ignorant, yet
+she did not despair: and as the poor creature could not receive comfort
+from the operations of her own mind, she laboured to beguile the hours,
+which grief made heavy, by adapting her conversation to her capacity.</p>
+
+<p>There are many minds that only receive impressions through the medium of
+the senses: to them did Mary address herself; she made her some
+presents, and promised to assist her when they should arrive in England.
+This employment roused her out of her late stupor, and again set the
+faculties of her soul in motion; made the understanding contend with the
+imagination, and the heart throbbed not so irregularly during the
+contention. How short-lived was the calm! when the English coast was
+descried, her sorrows returned with redoubled vigor.&mdash;She was to visit
+and comfort the mother <a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a>of her lost friend&mdash;And where then should she
+take up her residence? These thoughts suspended the exertions of her
+understanding; abstracted reflections gave way to alarming
+apprehensions; and tenderness undermined fortitude.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXII" id="CHAP_XXII"></a>CHAP. XXII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In England then landed the forlorn wanderer. She looked round for some
+few moments&mdash;her affections were not attracted to any particular part of
+the Island. She knew none of the inhabitants of the vast city to which
+she was going: the mass of buildings appeared to her a huge body without
+an informing soul. As she passed through the streets in an
+hackney-coach, disgust and horror alternately filled her mind. She met
+some women drunk; and the manners of those who attacked the sailors,
+made her shrink into herself, and exclaim, are these my fellow
+creatures!</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a>Detained by a number of carts near the water-side, for she came up the
+river in the vessel, not having reason to hasten on shore, she saw
+vulgarity, dirt, and vice&mdash;her soul sickened; this was the first time
+such complicated misery obtruded itself on her sight.&mdash;Forgetting her
+own griefs, she gave the world a much indebted tear; mourned for a world
+in ruins. She then perceived, that great part of her comfort must arise
+from viewing the smiling face of nature, and be reflected from the view
+of innocent enjoyments: she was fond of seeing animals play, and could
+not bear to see her own species sink below them.</p>
+
+<p>In a little dwelling in one of the villages near London, lived the
+mother of Ann; two of her children still remained with her; but they did
+not resemble Ann.<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a> To her house Mary directed the coach, and told the
+unfortunate mother of her loss. The poor woman, oppressed by it, and her
+many other cares, after an inundation of tears, began to enumerate all
+her past misfortunes, and present cares. The heavy tale lasted until
+midnight, and the impression it made on Mary's mind was so strong, that
+it banished sleep till towards morning; when tired nature sought
+forgetfulness, and the soul ceased to ruminate about many things.</p>
+
+<p>She sent for the poor woman they took up at sea, provided her a lodging,
+and relieved her present necessities. A few days were spent in a kind of
+listless way; then the mother of Ann began to enquire when she thought
+of returning home. She had hitherto treated her with the greatest
+respect, and concealed <a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>her wonder at Mary's choosing a remote room in
+the house near the garden, and ordering some alterations to be made, as
+if she intended living in it.</p>
+
+<p>Mary did not choose to explain herself; had Ann lived, it is probable
+she would never have loved Henry so fondly; but if she had, she could
+not have talked of her passion to any human creature. She deliberated,
+and at last informed the family, that she had a reason for not living
+with her husband, which must some time remain a secret&mdash;they stared&mdash;Not
+live with him! how will you live then? This was a question she could not
+answer; she had only about eighty pounds remaining, of the money she
+took with her to Lisbon; when it was exhausted where could she get more?
+I will work, she cried, do any thing rather than be a slave.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXIII" id="CHAP_XXIII"></a>CHAP. XXIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Unhappy, she wandered about the village, and relieved the poor; it was
+the only employment that eased her aching heart; she became more
+intimate with misery&mdash;the misery that rises from poverty and the want of
+education. She was in the vicinity of a great city; the vicious poor in
+and about it must ever grieve a benevolent contemplative mind.</p>
+
+<p>One evening a man who stood weeping in a little lane, near the house she
+resided in, caught her eye. She accosted him; in a confused manner, he
+informed her, that his wife was dying, and his children crying for the
+bread he could not <a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>earn. Mary desired to be conducted to his
+habitation; it was not very distant, and was the upper room in an old
+mansion-house, which had been once the abode of luxury. Some tattered
+shreds of rich hangings still remained, covered with cobwebs and filth;
+round the ceiling, through which the rain drop'd, was a beautiful
+cornice mouldering; and a spacious gallery was rendered dark by the
+broken windows being blocked up; through the apertures the wind forced
+its way in hollow sounds, and reverberated along the former scene of
+festivity.</p>
+
+<p>It was crowded with inhabitants: som were scolding, others swearing, or
+singing indecent songs. What a sight for Mary! Her blood ran cold; yet
+she had sufficient resolution to mount to the top of the house. On the
+floor, in one <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>corner of a very small room, lay an emaciated figure of a
+woman; a window over her head scarcely admitted any light, for the
+broken panes were stuffed with dirty rags. Near her were five children,
+all young, and covered with dirt; their sallow cheeks, and languid eyes,
+exhibited none of the charms of childhood. Some were fighting, and
+others crying for food; their yells were mixed with their mother's
+groans, and the wind which rushed through the passage. Mary was
+petrified; but soon assuming more courage, approached the bed, and,
+regardless of the surrounding nastiness, knelt down by the poor wretch,
+and breathed the most poisonous air; for the unfortunate creature was
+dying of a putrid fever, the consequence of dirt and want.</p>
+
+<p>Their state did not require much expla<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>nation. Mary sent the husband for
+a poor neighbour, whom she hired to nurse the woman, and take care of
+the children; and then went herself to buy them some necessaries at a
+shop not far distant. Her knowledge of physic had enabled her to
+prescribe for the woman; and she left the house, with a mixture of
+horror and satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>She visited them every day, and procured them every comfort; contrary to
+her expectation, the woman began to recover; cleanliness and wholesome
+food had a wonderful effect; and Mary saw her rising as it were from the
+grave. Not aware of the danger she ran into, she did not think of it
+till she perceived she had caught the fever. It made such an alarming
+progress, that she was prevailed on to send for a physician; but the
+disorder was so violent, that for some days it <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>baffled his skill; and
+Mary felt not her danger, as she was delirious. After the crisis, the
+symptoms were more favourable, and she slowly recovered, without
+regaining much strength or spirits; indeed they were intolerably low:
+she wanted a tender nurse.</p>
+
+<p>For some time she had observed, that she was not treated with the same
+respect as formerly; her favors were forgotten when no more were
+expected. This ingratitude hurt her, as did a similar instance in the
+woman who came out of the ship. Mary had hitherto supported her; as her
+finances were growing low, she hinted to her, that she ought to try to
+earn her own subsistence: the woman in return loaded her with abuse.</p>
+
+<p>Two months were elapsed; she had not seen, or heard from Henry. He <a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>was
+sick&mdash;nay, perhaps had forgotten her; all the world was dreary, and all
+the people ungrateful.</p>
+
+<p>She sunk into apathy, and endeavouring to rouse herself out of it, she
+wrote in her book another fragment:</p>
+
+<p>"Surely life is a dream, a frightful one! and after those rude,
+disjointed images are fled, will light ever break in? Shall I ever feel
+joy? Do all suffer like me; or am I framed so as to be particularly
+susceptible of misery? It is true, I have experienced the most rapturous
+emotions&mdash;short-lived delight!&mdash;ethereal beam, which only serves to shew
+my present misery&mdash;yet lie still, my throbbing heart, or burst; and my
+brain&mdash;why dost thou whirl about at such a terrifying rate? why do
+thoughts so rapidly rush into my mind, and yet when they disappear
+<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>leave such deep traces? I could almost wish for the madman's happiness,
+and in a strong imagination lose a sense of woe.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! reason, thou boasted guide, why desert me, like the world, when I
+most need thy assistance! Canst thou not calm this internal tumult, and
+drive away the death-like sadness which presses so sorely on me,&mdash;a
+sadness surely very nearly allied to despair. I am now the prey of
+apathy&mdash;I could wish for the former storms! a ray of hope sometimes
+illumined my path; I had a pursuit; but now <i>it visits not my haunts
+forlorn</i>. Too well have I loved my fellow creatures! I have been wounded
+by ingratitude; from every one it has something of the serpent's tooth.</p>
+
+<p>"When overwhelmed by sorrow, I have <a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>met unkindness; I looked for some
+one to have pity on me; but found none!&mdash;The healing balm of sympathy is
+denied; I weep, a solitary wretch, and the hot tears scald my cheeks. I
+have not the medicine of life, the dear chimera I have so often chased,
+a friend. Shade of my loved Ann! dost thou ever visit thy poor Mary?
+Refined spirit, thou wouldst weep, could angels weep, to see her
+struggling with passions she cannot subdue; and feelings which corrode
+her small portion of comfort!"</p>
+
+<p>She could not write any more; she wished herself far distant from all
+human society; a thick gloom spread itself over her mind: but did not
+make her forget the very beings she wished to fly from. She sent for the
+poor woman she found in the garret; gave her money to clothe <a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>herself
+and children, and buy some furniture for a little hut, in a large
+garden, the master of which agreed to employ her husband, who had been
+bred a gardener. Mary promised to visit the family, and see their new
+abode when she was able to go out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXIV" id="CHAP_XXIV"></a>CHAP. XXIV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mary still continued weak and low, though it was spring, and all nature
+began to look gay; with more than usual brightness the sun shone, and a
+little robin which she had cherished during the winter sung one of his
+best songs. The family were particularly civil this fine morning, and
+tried to prevail on her to walk out. Any thing like kindness melted her;
+she consented.</p>
+
+<p>Softer emotions banished her melancholy, and she directed her steps to
+the habitation she had rendered comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Emerging out of a dreary chamber, all nature looked cheerful; when she
+had last walked out, snow covered the <a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>ground, and bleak winds pierced
+her through and through: now the hedges were green, the blossoms adorned
+the trees, and the birds sung. She reached the dwelling, without being
+much exhausted and while she rested there, observed the children
+sporting on the grass, with improved complexions. The mother with tears
+thanked her deliverer, and pointed out her comforts. Mary's tears flowed
+not only from sympathy, but a complication of feelings and recollections
+the affections which bound her to her fellow creatures began again to
+play, and reanimated nature. She observed the change in herself, tried
+to account for it, and wrote with her pencil a rhapsody on sensibility.</p>
+
+<p>"Sensibility is the most exquisite feeling of which the human soul is
+susceptible: when it pervades us, we feel <a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>happy; and could it last
+unmixed, we might form some conjecture of the bliss of those
+paradisiacal days, when the obedient passions were under the dominion of
+reason, and the impulses of the heart did not need correction.</p>
+
+<p>"It is this quickness, this delicacy of feeling, which enables us to
+relish the sublime touches of the poet, and the painter; it is this,
+which expands the soul, gives an enthusiastic greatness, mixed with
+tenderness, when we view the magnificent objects of nature; or hear of a
+good action. The same effect we experience in the spring, when we hail
+the returning sun, and the consequent renovation of nature; when the
+flowers unfold themselves, and exhale their sweets, and the voice of
+music is heard in the land. Softened by tenderness; the soul is
+dis<a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a>posed to be virtuous. Is any sensual gratification to be compared to
+that of feelings the eves moistened after having comforted the
+unfortunate?</p>
+
+<p>"Sensibility is indeed the foundation of all our happiness; but these
+raptures are unknown to the depraved sensualist, who is only moved by
+what strikes his gross senses; the delicate embellishments of nature
+escape his notice; as do the gentle and interesting affections.&mdash;But it
+is only to be felt; it escapes discussion."</p>
+
+<p>She then returned home, and partook of the family meal, which was
+rendered more cheerful by the presence of a man, past the meridian of
+life, of polished manners, and dazzling wit. He endeavoured to draw Mary
+out, and succeeded; she entered into conversation, and some of her
+artless flights of genius struck <a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>him with surprise; he found she had a
+capacious mind, and that her reason was as profound as her imagination
+was lively. She glanced from earth to heaven, and caught the light of
+truth. Her expressive countenance shewed what passed in her mind, and
+her tongue was ever the faithful interpreter of her heart; duplicity
+never threw a shade over her words or actions. Mary found him a man of
+learning; and the exercise of her understanding would frequently make
+her forget her griefs, when nothing else could, except benevolence.</p>
+
+<p>This man had known the mistress of the house in her youth; good nature
+induced him to visit her; but when he saw Mary he had another
+inducement. Her appearance, and above all, her genius, and cultivation
+of mind, roused his curiosity; but her dignified manners <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>had such an
+effect on him, he was obliged to suppress it. He knew men, as well as
+books; his conversation was entertaining and improving. In Mary's
+company he doubted whether heaven was peopled with spirits masculine;
+and almost forgot that he had called the sex "the pretty play things
+that render life tolerable."</p>
+
+<p>He had been the slave of beauty, the captive of sense; love he ne'er had
+felt; the mind never rivetted the chain, nor had the purity of it made
+the body appear lovely in his eyes. He was humane, despised meanness;
+but was vain of his abilities, and by no means a useful member of
+society. He talked often of the beauty of virtue; but not having any
+solid foundation to build the practice on, he was only a shining, or
+rather a sparkling character: and though his <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>fortune enabled him to
+hunt down pleasure, he was discontented.</p>
+
+<p>Mary observed his character, and wrote down a train of reflections,
+which these observations led her to make; these reflections received a
+tinge from her mind; the present state of it, was that kind of painful
+quietness which arises from reason clouded by disgust; she had not yet
+learned to be resigned; vague hopes agitated her.</p>
+
+<p>"There are some subjects that are so enveloped in clouds, as you
+dissipate one, another overspreads it. Of this kind are our reasonings
+concerning happiness; till we are obliged to cry out with the Apostle,
+<i>That it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive in what it
+could consist</i>, or how satiety could be prevented. Man seems formed for
+action, though the <a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>passions are seldom properly managed; they are
+either so languid as not to serve as a spur, or else so violent, as to
+overleap all bounds.</p>
+
+<p>"Every individual has its own peculiar trials; and anguish, in one shape
+or other, visits every heart. Sensibility produces flights of virtue;
+and not curbed by reason, is on the brink of vice talking, and even
+thinking of virtue.</p>
+
+<p>"Christianity can only afford just principles to govern the wayward
+feelings and impulses of the heart: every good disposition runs wild, if
+not transplanted into this soil; but how hard is it to keep the heart
+diligently, though convinced that the issues of life depend on it.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very difficult to discipline the mind of a thinker, or reconcile
+him <a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>to the weakness, the inconsistency of his understanding; and a
+still more laborious task for him to conquer his passions, and learn to
+seek content, instead of happiness. Good dispositions, and virtuous
+propensities, without the light of the Gospel, produce eccentric
+characters: comet-like, they are always in extremes; while revelation
+resembles the laws of attraction, and produces uniformity; but too often
+is the attraction feeble; and the light so obscured by passion, as to
+force the bewildered soul to fly into void space, and wander in
+confusion."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXV" id="CHAP_XXV"></a>CHAP. XXV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A few mornings after, as Mary was sitting ruminating, harassed by
+perplexing thoughts, and fears, a letter was delivered to her: the
+servant waited for an answer. Her heart palpitated; it was from Henry;
+she held it some time in her hand, then tore it open; it was not a long
+one; and only contained an account of a relapse, which prevented his
+sailing in the first packet, as he had intended. Some tender enquiries
+were added, concerning her health, and state of mind; but they were
+expressed in rather a formal style: it vexed her, and the more so, as it
+stopped the current of affection, which the account of his arrival and
+illness had made flow to her <a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>heart&mdash;it ceased to beat for a moment&mdash;she
+read the passage over again; but could not tell what she was hurt
+by&mdash;only that it did not answer the expectations of her affection. She
+wrote a laconic, incoherent note in return, allowing him to call on her
+the next day&mdash;he had requested permission at the conclusion of his
+letter.</p>
+
+<p>Her mind was then painfully active; she could not read or walk; she
+tried to fly from herself, to forget the long hours that were yet to run
+before to-morrow could arrive: she knew not what time he would come;
+certainly in the morning, she concluded; the morning then was anxiously
+wished for; and every wish produced a sigh, that arose from expectation
+on the stretch, damped by fear and vain regret.</p>
+
+<p>To beguile the tedious time, Henry's favorite tunes were sung; the books
+<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>they read together turned over; and the short epistle read at least a
+hundred times.&mdash;Any one who had seen her, would have supposed that she
+was trying to decypher Chinese characters.</p>
+
+<p>After a sleepless night, she hailed the tardy day, watched the rising
+sun, and then listened for every footstep, and started if she heard the
+street door opened. At last he came, and she who had been counting the
+hours, and doubting whether the earth moved, would gladly have escaped
+the approaching interview.</p>
+
+<p>With an unequal, irresolute pace, she went to meet him; but when she
+beheld his emaciated countenance, all the tenderness, which the
+formality of his letter had damped, returned, and a mournful
+presentiment stilled the internal conflict. She caught his hand, and
+looking wist<a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>fully at him, exclaimed, "Indeed, you are not well!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am very far from well; but it matters not," added he with a smile of
+resignation; "my native air may work wonders, and besides, my mother is
+a tender nurse, and I shall sometimes see thee."</p>
+
+<p>Mary felt for the first time in her life, envy; she wished
+involuntarily, that all the comfort he received should be from her. She
+enquired about the symptoms of his disorder; and heard that he had been
+very ill; she hastily drove away the fears, that former dear bought
+experience suggested: and again and again did she repeat, that she was
+sure he would soon recover. She would then look in his face, to see if
+he assented, and ask more questions to the same purport. She tried to
+avoid speaking of <a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>herself, and Henry left her, with, a promise of
+visiting her the next day.</p>
+
+<p>Her mind was now engrossed by one fear&mdash;yet she would not allow herself
+to think that she feared an event she could not name. She still saw his
+pale face; the sound of his voice still vibrated on her ears; she tried
+to retain it; she listened, looked round, wept, and prayed.</p>
+
+<p>Henry had enlightened the desolate scene: was this charm of life to fade
+away, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck
+behind? These thoughts disturbed her reason, she shook her head, as if
+to drive them out of it; a weight, a heavy one, was on her heart; all
+was not well there.</p>
+
+<p>Out of this reverie she was soon woke to keener anguish, by the arrival
+of a letter from her husband; it came to Lisbon after her departure:
+Henry had <a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a>forwarded it to her, but did not choose to deliver it
+himself, for a very obvious reason; it might have produced a
+conversation he wished for some time to avoid; and his precaution took
+its rise almost equally from benevolence and love.</p>
+
+<p>She could not muster up sufficient resolution to break the seal: her
+fears were not prophetic, for the contents gave her comfort. He informed
+her that he intended prolonging his tour, as he was now his own master,
+and wished to remain some time on the continent, and in particular to
+visit Italy without any restraint: but his reasons for it appeared
+childish; it was not to cultivate his taste, or tread on classic ground,
+where poets and philosophers caught their lore; but to join in the
+masquerades, and such burlesque amusements.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>These instances of folly relieved Mary, in some degree reconciled her
+to herself added fuel to the devouring flame&mdash;and silenced something
+like a pang, which reason and conscience made her feel, when she
+reflected, that it is the office of Religion to reconcile us to the
+seemingly hard dispensations of providence; and that no inclination,
+however strong, should oblige us to desert the post assigned us, or
+force us to forget that virtue should be an active principle; and that
+the most desirable station, is the one that exercises our faculties,
+refines our affections, and enables us to be useful.</p>
+
+<p>One reflection continually wounded her repose; she feared not poverty;
+her wants were few; but in giving up a fortune, she gave up the power of
+comforting the miserable, and making the sad heart sing for joy.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>Heaven had endowed her with uncommon humanity, to render her one of His
+benevolent agents, a messenger of peace; and should she attend to her
+own inclinations?</p>
+
+<p>These suggestions, though they could not subdue a violent passion,
+increased her misery. One moment she was a heroine, half determined to
+bear whatever fate should inflict; the next, her mind would recoil&mdash;and
+tenderness possessed her whole soul. Some instances of Henry's
+affection, his worth and genius, were remembered: and the earth was only
+a vale of tears, because he was not to sojourn with her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXVI" id="CHAP_XXVI"></a>CHAP. XXVI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Henry came the next day, and once or twice in the course of the
+following week; but still Mary kept up some little formality, a certain
+consciousness restrained her; and Henry did not enter on the subject
+which he found she wished to avoid. In the course of conversation,
+however, she mentioned to him, that she earnestly desired to obtain a
+place in one of the public offices for Ann's brother, as the family were
+again in a declining way.</p>
+
+<p>Henry attended, made a few enquiries, and dropped the subject; but the
+following week, she heard him enter with unusual haste; it was to inform
+her, that <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>he had made interest with a person of some consequence, whom
+he had once obliged in a very disagreeable exigency, in a foreign
+country; and that he had procured a place for her friend, which would
+infallibly lead to something better, if he behaved with propriety. Mary
+could not speak to thank him; emotions of gratitude and love suffused
+her face; her blood eloquently spoke. She delighted to receive benefits
+through the medium of her fellow creatures; but to receive them from
+Henry was exquisite pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>As the summer advanced, Henry grew worse; the closeness of the air, in
+the metropolis, affected his breath; and his mother insisted on his
+fixing on some place in the country, where she would accompany him. He
+could not think of going far off, but chose a little vil<a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>lage on the
+banks of the Thames, near Mary's dwelling: he then introduced her to his
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>They frequently went down the river in a boat; Henry would take his
+violin, and Mary would sometimes sing, or read, to them. She pleased his
+mother; she inchanted him. It was an advantage to Mary that friendship
+first possessed her heart; it opened it to all the softer sentiments of
+humanity:&mdash;and when this first affection was torn away, a similar one
+sprung up, with a still tenderer sentiment added to it.</p>
+
+<p>The last evening they were on the water, the clouds grew suddenly black,
+and broke in violent showers, which interrupted the solemn stillness
+that had prevailed previous to it. The thunder roared; and the oars
+plying quickly, in order to reach the shore, occasioned a <a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>not
+unpleasing sound. Mary drew still nearer Henry; she wished to have
+sought with him a watry grave; to have escaped the horror of surviving
+him.&mdash;She spoke not, but Henry saw the workings of her mind&mdash;he felt
+them; threw his arm round her waist&mdash;and they enjoyed the luxury of
+wretchedness.&mdash;As they touched the shore, Mary perceived that Henry was
+wet; with eager anxiety she cried, What shall I do!&mdash;this day will kill
+thee, and I shall not die with thee!</p>
+
+<p>This accident put a stop to their pleasurable excursions; it had injured
+him, and brought on the spitting of blood he was subject to&mdash;perhaps it
+was not the cold that he caught, that occasioned it. In vain did Mary
+try to shut her eyes; her fate pursued her! Henry every day grew worse
+and worse.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXVII" id="CHAP_XXVII"></a>CHAP. XXVII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Oppressed by her foreboding fears, her sore mind was hurt by new
+instances of ingratitude: disgusted with the family, whose misfortunes
+had often disturbed her repose, and lost in anticipated sorrow, she
+rambled she knew not where; when turning down a shady walk, she
+discovered her feet had taken the path they delighted to tread. She saw
+Henry sitting in his garden alone; he quickly opened the garden-gate,
+and she sat down by him.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not," said he, "expect to see thee this evening, my dearest Mary;
+but I was thinking of thee. Heaven has endowed thee with an uncommon
+<a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a>portion of fortitude, to support one of the most affectionate hearts in
+the world. This is not a time for disguise; I know I am dear to
+thee&mdash;and my affection for thee is twisted with every fibre of my
+heart.&mdash;I loved thee ever since I have been acquainted with thine: thou
+art the being my fancy has delighted to form; but which I imagined
+existed only there! In a little while the shades of death will encompass
+me&mdash;ill-fated love perhaps added strength to my disease, and smoothed
+the rugged path. Try, my love, to fulfil thy destined course&mdash;try to add
+to thy other virtues patience. I could have wished, for thy sake, that
+we could have died together&mdash;or that I could live to shield thee from
+the assaults of an unfeeling world! Could I but offer thee an <a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>asylum in
+these arms&mdash;a faithful bosom, in which thou couldst repose all thy
+griefs&mdash;" He pressed her to it, and she returned the pressure&mdash;he felt her
+throbbing heart. A mournful silence ensued! when he resumed the
+conversation. "I wished to prepare thee for the blow&mdash;too surely do I
+feel that it will not be long delayed! The passion I have nursed is so
+pure, that death cannot extinguish it&mdash;or tear away the impression thy
+virtues have made on my soul. I would fain comfort thee&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Talk not of comfort," interrupted Mary, "it will be in heaven with thee
+and Ann&mdash;while I shall remain on earth the veriest wretch!"&mdash;She grasped
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"There we shall meet, my love, my Mary, in our Father's&mdash;" His voice
+<a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>faultered; he could not finish the sentence; he was almost
+suffocated&mdash;they both wept, their tears relieved them; they walked
+slowly to the garden-gate (Mary would not go into the house); they could
+not say farewel when they reached it&mdash;and Mary hurried down the lane; to
+spare Henry the pain of witnessing her emotions.</p>
+
+<p>When she lost sight of the house she sat down on the ground, till it
+grew late, thinking of all that had passed. Full of these thoughts, she
+crept along, regardless of the descending rain; when lifting up her eyes
+to heaven, and then turning them wildly on the prospects around, without
+marking them; she only felt that the scene accorded with her present
+state of mind. It was the last glimmering of twilight, with a full moon,
+over which clouds continually <a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>flitted. Where am I wandering, God of
+Mercy! she thought; she alluded to the wanderings of her mind. In what a
+labyrinth am I lost! What miseries have I already encountered&mdash;and what
+a number lie still before me.</p>
+
+<p>Her thoughts flew rapidly to something. I could be happy listening to
+him, soothing his cares.&mdash;Would he not smile upon me&mdash;call me his own
+Mary? I am not his&mdash;said she with fierceness&mdash;I am a wretch! and she
+heaved a sigh that almost broke her heart, while the big tears rolled
+down her burning cheeks; but still her exercised mind, accustomed to
+think, began to observe its operation, though the barrier of reason was
+almost carried away, and all the faculties not restrained by her, were
+running into confusion. Wherefore am I made thus? Vain are my
+<a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>efforts&mdash;I cannot live without loving&mdash;and love leads to madness.&mdash;Yet
+I will not weep; and her eyes were now fixed by despair, dry and
+motionless; and then quickly whirled about with a look of distraction.</p>
+
+<p>She looked for hope; but found none&mdash;all was troubled waters.&mdash;No where
+could she find rest. I have already paced to and fro in the earth; it is
+not my abiding place&mdash;may I not too go home! Ah! no. Is this complying
+with my Henry's request, could a spirit thus disengaged expect to
+associate with his? Tears of tenderness strayed down her relaxed
+countenance, and her softened heart heaved more regularly. She felt the
+rain, and turned to her solitary home.</p>
+
+<p>Fatigued by the tumultuous emotions she had endured, when she entered
+the <a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a>house she ran to her own room, sunk on the bed; and exhausted
+nature soon closed her eyes; but active fancy was still awake, and a
+thousand fearful dreams interrupted her slumbers.</p>
+
+<p>Feverish and languid, she opened her eyes, and saw the unwelcome sun
+dart his rays through a window, the curtains of which she had forgotten
+to draw. The dew hung on the adjacent trees, and added to the lustre;
+the little robin began his song, and distant birds joined. She looked;
+her countenance was still vacant&mdash;her sensibility was absorbed by one
+object.</p>
+
+<p>Did I ever admire the rising sun, she slightly thought, turning from the
+Window, and shutting her eyes: she recalled to view the last night's
+scene. His faltering voice, lingering step, and the look of tender woe,
+were all graven <a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>on her heart; as were the words "Could these arms
+shield thee from sorrow&mdash;afford thee an asylum from an unfeeling world."
+The pressure to his bosom was not forgot. For a moment she was happy;
+but in a long-drawn sigh every delightful sensation evaporated.
+Soon&mdash;yes, very soon, will the grave again receive all I love! and the
+remnant of my days&mdash;she could not proceed&mdash;Were there then days to come
+after that?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXVIII" id="CHAP_XXVIII"></a>CHAP. XXVIII.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Just as she was going to quit her room, to visit Henry, his mother
+called on her.</p>
+
+<p>"My son is worse to-day," said she, "I come to request you to spend not
+only this day, but a week or two with me.&mdash;Why should I conceal any
+thing from you? Last night my child made his mother his confident, and,
+in the anguish of his heart, requested me to be thy friend&mdash;when I shall
+be childless. I will not attempt to describe what I felt when he talked
+thus to me. If I am to lose the support of my age, and be again a
+widow&mdash;may I call her <a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a>Child whom my Henry wishes me to adopt?"</p>
+
+<p>This new instance of Henry's disinterested affection, Mary felt most
+forcibly; and striving to restrain the complicated emotions, and sooth
+the wretched mother, she almost fainted: when the unhappy parent forced
+tears from her, by saying, "I deserve this blow; my partial fondness
+made me neglect him, when most he wanted a mother's care; this neglect,
+perhaps, first injured his constitution: righteous Heaven has made my
+crime its own punishment; and now I am indeed a mother, I shall loss my
+child&mdash;my only child!"</p>
+
+<p>When they were a little more composed they hastened to the invalide; but
+during the short ride, the mother related several instances of Henry's
+goodness of heart. Mary's tears were not <a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>those of unmixed anguish; the
+display of his virtues gave her extreme delight&mdash;yet human nature
+prevailed; she trembled to think they would soon unfold themselves in a
+more genial clime.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXIX" id="CHAP_XXIX"></a>CHAP. XXIX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>She found Henry very ill. The physician had some weeks before declared
+he never knew a person with a similar pulse recover. Henry was certain
+he could not live long; all the rest he could obtain, was procured by
+opiates. Mary now enjoyed the melancholy pleasure of nursing him, and
+softened by her tenderness the pains she could not remove. Every sigh
+did she stifle, every tear restrain, when he could see or hear them. She
+would boast of her resignation&mdash;yet catch eagerly at the least ray of
+hope. While he slept she would support his pillow, and rest her head
+where she could feel his breath. She <a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a>loved him better than herself&mdash;she
+could not pray for his recovery; she could only say, The will of Heaven
+be done.</p>
+
+<p>While she was in this state, she labored to acquire fortitude; but one
+tender look destroyed it all&mdash;she rather labored, indeed, to make him
+believe he was resigned, than really to be so.</p>
+
+<p>She wished to receive the sacrament with him, as a bond of union which
+was to extend beyond the grave. She did so, and received comfort from
+it; she rose above her misery.</p>
+
+<p>His end was now approaching. Mary sat on the side of the bed. His eyes
+appeared fixed&mdash;no longer agitated by passion, he only felt that it was
+a fearful thing to die. The soul retired to the citadel; but it was not
+now solely filled by the image of her who in silent <a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>despair watched for
+his last breath. Collected, a frightful calmness stilled every turbulent
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p>The mother's grief was more audible. Henry had for some time only
+attended to Mary&mdash;Mary pitied the parent, whose stings of conscience
+increased her sorrow; she whispered him, "Thy mother weeps, disregarded
+by thee; oh! comfort her!&mdash;My mother, thy son blesses thee.&mdash;" The
+oppressed parent left the room. And Mary <i>waited</i> to see him die.</p>
+
+<p>She pressed with trembling eagerness his parched lips&mdash;he opened his
+eyes again; the spreading film retired, and love returned them&mdash;he gave
+a look&mdash;it was never forgotten. My Mary, will you be comforted?</p>
+
+<p>Yes, yes, she exclaimed in a firm voice; you go to be happy&mdash;I am not <a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>a
+complete wretch! The words almost choked her.</p>
+
+<p>He was a long time silent; the opiate produced a kind of stupor. At
+last, in an agony, he cried, It is dark; I cannot see thee; raise me up.
+Where is Mary? did she not say she delighted to support me? let me die
+in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>Her arms were opened to receive him; they trembled not. Again he was
+obliged to lie down, resting on her: as the agonies increased he leaned
+towards her: the soul seemed flying to her, as it escaped out of its
+prison. The breathing was interrupted; she heard distinctly the last
+sigh&mdash;and lifting up to Heaven her eyes, Father, receive his spirit, she
+calmly cried.</p>
+
+<p>The attendants gathered round; she moved not, nor heard the clamor; the
+hand seemed yet to press hers; it still <a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>was warm. A ray of light from
+an opened window discovered the pale face.</p>
+
+<p>She left the room, and retired to one very near it; and sitting down on
+the floor, fixed her eyes on the door of the apartment which contained
+the body. Every event of her life rushed across her mind with wonderful
+rapidity&mdash;yet all was still&mdash;fate had given the finishing stroke. She
+sat till midnight.&mdash;Then rose in a phrensy, went into the apartment, and
+desired those who watched the body to retire.</p>
+
+<p>She knelt by the bed side;&mdash;an enthusiastic devotion overcame the
+dictates of despair.&mdash;She prayed most ardently to be supported, and
+dedicated herself to the service of that Being into whose hands, she had
+committed the spirit she almost adored&mdash;again&mdash;<a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a>and again,&mdash;she prayed
+wildly&mdash;and fervently&mdash;but attempting to touch the lifeless hand&mdash;her
+head swum&mdash;she sunk&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXX" id="CHAP_XXX"></a>CHAP. XXX.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Three months after, her only friend, the mother of her lost Henry began
+to be alarmed, at observing her altered appearance; and made her own
+health a pretext for travelling. These complaints roused Mary out of her
+torpid state; she imagined a new duty now forced her to exert herself&mdash;a
+duty love made sacred!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>They went to Bath, from that to Bristol; but the latter place they
+quickly left; the sight of the sick that resort there, they neither of
+them could bear. From Bristol they flew to Southampton. The road was
+pleasant&mdash;yet Mary shut her eyes;&mdash;or if they were <a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>open, green fields
+and commons, passed in quick succession, and left no more traces behind
+than if they had been waves of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Some time after they were settled at Southampton, they met the man who
+took so much notice of Mary, soon after her return to England. He
+renewed his acquaintance; he was really interested in her fate, as he
+had heard her uncommon story; besides, he knew her husband; knew him to
+be a good-natured, weak man. He saw him soon after his arrival in his
+native country, and prevented his hastening to enquire into the reasons
+of Mary's strange conduct. He desired him not to be too precipitate, if
+he ever wished to possess an invaluable treasure. He was guided by him,
+and allowed him to follow Mary to Southampton, and speak first to her
+friend.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>This friend determined to trust to her native strength of mind, and
+informed her of the circumstance; but she overrated it: Mary was not
+able, for a few days after the intelligence, to fix on the mode of
+conduct she ought now to pursue. But at last she conquered her disgust,
+and wrote her <i>husband</i> an account of what had passed since she had
+dropped his correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>He came in person to answer the letter. Mary fainted when he approached
+her unexpectedly. Her disgust returned with additional force, in spite
+of previous reasonings, whenever he appeared; yet she was prevailed on
+to promise to live with him, if he would permit her to pass one year,
+travelling from place to place; he was not to accompany her.</p>
+
+<p>The time too quickly elapsed, and <a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>she gave him her hand&mdash;the struggle
+was almost more than she could endure. She tried to appear calm; time
+mellowed her grief, and mitigated her torments; but when her husband
+would take her hand, or mention any thing like love, she would instantly
+feel a sickness, a faintness at her heart, and wish, involuntarily, that
+the earth would open and swallow her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAP_XXXI" id="CHAP_XXXI"></a>CHAP. XXXI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mary visited the continent, and sought health in different climates; but
+her nerves were not to be restored to their former state. She then
+retired to her house in the country, established manufactories, threw
+the estate into small farms; and continually employed herself this way
+to dissipate care, and banish unavailing regret. She visited the sick,
+supported the old, and educated the young.</p>
+
+<p>These occupations engrossed her mind; but there were hours when all her
+former woes would return and haunt her.&mdash;Whenever she did, or said, any
+thing she thought Henry would have <a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>approved of&mdash;she could not avoid
+thinking with anguish, of the rapture his approbation ever conveyed to
+her heart&mdash;a heart in which there was a void, that even benevolence and
+religion could not fill. The latter taught her to struggle for
+resignation; and the former rendered life supportable.</p>
+
+<p>Her delicate state of health did not promise long life. In moments of
+solitary sadness, a gleam of joy would dart across her mind&mdash;She thought
+she was hastening to that world <i>where there is neither marrying</i>, nor
+giving in marriage.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***</p>
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diff --git a/16357.txt b/16357.txt
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/16357.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Mary
+       A Fiction
+
+
+Author: Mary Wollstonecraft
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 24, 2005  [eBook #16357]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Janet Blenkinship, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: The author is Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797).
+
+
+
+
+
+MARY,
+
+A Fiction
+
+L'exercice des plus sublimes vertus eleve et nourrit le genie.
+                                                     ROUSSEAU.
+
+London,
+Printed for J. Johnson, St. Paul's Church-Yard.
+
+MDCCLXXXVIII
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ADVERTISEMENT.
+
+
+In delineating the Heroine of this Fiction, the Author attempts to
+develop a character different from those generally portrayed. This woman
+is neither a Clarissa, a Lady G----, nor a[A] Sophie.--It would be vain
+to mention the various modifications of these models, as it would to
+remark, how widely artists wander from nature, when they copy the
+originals of great masters. They catch the gross parts; but the subtile
+spirit evaporates; and not having the just ties, affectation disgusts,
+when grace was expected to charm.
+
+Those compositions only have power to delight, and carry us willing
+captives, where the soul of the author is exhibited, and animates the
+hidden springs. Lost in a pleasing enthusiasm, they live in the scenes
+they represent; and do not measure their steps in a beaten track,
+solicitous to gather expected flowers, and bind them in a wreath,
+according to the prescribed rules of art.
+
+These chosen few, wish to speak for themselves, and not to be an
+echo--even of the sweetest sounds--or the reflector of the most sublime
+beams. The[B] paradise they ramble in, must be of their own creating--or
+the prospect soon grows insipid, and not varied by a vivifying
+principle, fades and dies.
+
+In an artless tale, without episodes, the mind of a woman, who has
+thinking powers is displayed. The female organs have been thought too
+weak for this arduous employment; and experience seems to justify the
+assertion. Without arguing physically about _possibilities_--in a
+fiction, such a being may be allowed to exist; whose grandeur is derived
+from the operations of its own faculties, not subjugated to opinion; but
+drawn by the individual from the original source.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote A: Rousseau.]
+
+[Footnote B: I here give the Reviewers an opportunity of being very
+witty about the Paradise of Fools, &c.]
+
+
+
+
+MARY
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. I.
+
+
+Mary, the heroine of this fiction, was the daughter of Edward, who
+married Eliza, a gentle, fashionable girl, with a kind of indolence in
+her temper, which might be termed negative good-nature: her virtues,
+indeed, were all of that stamp. She carefully attended to the _shews_ of
+things, and her opinions, I should have said prejudices, were such as
+the generality approved of. She was educated with the expectation of a
+large fortune, of course became a mere machine: the homage of her
+attendants made a great part of her puerile amusements, and she never
+imagined there were any relative duties for her to fulfil: notions of
+her own consequence, by these means, were interwoven in her mind, and
+the years of youth spent in acquiring a few superficial accomplishments,
+without having any taste for them. When she was first introduced into
+the polite circle, she danced with an officer, whom she faintly wished
+to be united to; but her father soon after recommending another in a
+more distinguished rank of life, she readily submitted to his will, and
+promised to love, honour, and obey, (a vicious fool,) as in duty bound.
+
+While they resided in London, they lived in the usual fashionable style,
+and seldom saw each other; nor were they much more sociable when they
+wooed rural felicity for more than half the year, in a delightful
+country, where Nature, with lavish hand, had scattered beauties around;
+for the master, with brute, unconscious gaze, passed them by unobserved,
+and sought amusement in country sports. He hunted in the morning, and
+after eating an immoderate dinner, generally fell asleep: this
+seasonable rest enabled him to digest the cumbrous load; he would then
+visit some of his pretty tenants; and when he compared their ruddy glow
+of health with his wife's countenance, which even rouge could not
+enliven, it is not necessary to say which a _gourmand_ would give the
+preference to. Their vulgar dance of spirits were infinitely more
+agreeable to his fancy than her sickly, die-away languor. Her voice was
+but the shadow of a sound, and she had, to complete her delicacy, so
+relaxed her nerves, that she became a mere nothing.
+
+Many such noughts are there in the female world! yet she had a good
+opinion of her own merit,--truly, she said long prayers,--and sometimes
+read her Week's Preparation: she dreaded that horrid place vulgarly
+called _hell_, the regions below; but whether her's was a mounting
+spirit, I cannot pretend to determine; or what sort of a planet would
+have been proper for her, when she left her _material_ part in this
+world, let metaphysicians settle; I have nothing to say to her unclothed
+spirit.
+
+As she was sometimes obliged to be alone, or only with her French
+waiting-maid, she sent to the metropolis for all the new publications,
+and while she was dressing her hair, and she could turn her eyes from
+the glass, she ran over those most delightful substitutes for bodily
+dissipation, novels. I say bodily, or the animal soul, for a rational
+one can find no employment in polite circles. The glare of lights, the
+studied inelegancies of dress, and the compliments offered up at the
+shrine of false beauty, are all equally addressed to the senses.
+
+When she could not any longer indulge the caprices of fancy one way, she
+tried another. The Platonic Marriage, Eliza Warwick, and some other
+interesting tales were perused with eagerness. Nothing could be more
+natural than the developement of the passions, nor more striking than
+the views of the human heart. What delicate struggles! and uncommonly
+pretty turns of thought! The picture that was found on a bramble-bush,
+the new sensitive-plant, or tree, which caught the swain by the
+upper-garment, and presented to his ravished eyes a portrait.--Fatal
+image!--It planted a thorn in a till then insensible heart, and sent a
+new kind of a knight-errant into the world. But even this was nothing to
+the catastrophe, and the circumstance on which it hung, the hornet
+settling on the sleeping lover's face. What a _heart-rending_ accident!
+She planted, in imitation of those susceptible souls, a rose bush; but
+there was not a lover to weep in concert with her, when she watered it
+with her tears.--Alas! Alas!
+
+If my readers would excuse the sportiveness of fancy, and give me credit
+for genius, I would go on and tell them such tales as would force the
+sweet tears of sensibility to flow in copious showers down beautiful
+cheeks, to the discomposure of rouge, &c. &c. Nay, I would make it so
+interesting, that the fair peruser should beg the hair-dresser to
+settle the curls himself, and not interrupt her.
+
+She had besides another resource, two most beautiful dogs, who shared
+her bed, and reclined on cushions near her all the day. These she
+watched with the most assiduous care, and bestowed on them the warmest
+caresses. This fondness for animals was not that kind of
+_attendrissement_ which makes a person take pleasure in providing for
+the subsistence and comfort of a living creature; but it proceeded from
+vanity, it gave her an opportunity of lisping out the prettiest French
+expressions of ecstatic fondness, in accents that had never been attuned
+by tenderness.
+
+She was chaste, according to the vulgar acceptation of the word, that
+is, she did not make any actual _faux pas_; she feared the world, and
+was indolent; but then, to make amends for this seeming self-denial, she
+read all the sentimental novels, dwelt on the love-scenes, and, had she
+thought while she read, her mind would have been contaminated; as she
+accompanied the lovers to the lonely arbors, and would walk with them by
+the clear light of the moon. She wondered her husband did not stay at
+home. She was jealous--why did he not love her, sit by her side, squeeze
+her hand, and look unutterable things? Gentle reader, I will tell thee;
+they neither of them felt what they could not utter. I will not pretend
+to say that they always annexed an idea to a word; but they had none of
+those feelings which are not easily analyzed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. II.
+
+
+In due time she brought forth a son, a feeble babe; and the following
+year a daughter. After the mother's throes she felt very few sentiments
+of maternal tenderness: the children were given to nurses, and she
+played with her dogs. Want of exercise prevented the least chance of her
+recovering strength; and two or three milk-fevers brought on a
+consumption, to which her constitution tended. Her children all died in
+their infancy, except the two first, and she began to grow fond of the
+son, as he was remarkably handsome. For years she divided her time
+between the sofa, and the card-table. She thought not of death, though
+on the borders of the grave; nor did any of the duties of her station
+occur to her as necessary. Her children were left in the nursery; and
+when Mary, the little blushing girl, appeared, she would send the
+awkward thing away. To own the truth, she was awkward enough, in a house
+without any play-mates; for her brother had been sent to school, and she
+scarcely knew how to employ herself; she would ramble about the garden,
+admire the flowers, and play with the dogs. An old house-keeper told her
+stories, read to her, and, at last, taught her to read. Her mother
+talked of enquiring for a governess when her health would permit; and,
+in the interim desired her own maid to teach her French. As she had
+learned to read, she perused with avidity every book that came in her
+way. Neglected in every respect, and left to the operations of her own
+mind, she considered every thing that came under her inspection, and
+learned to think. She had heard of a separate state, and that angels
+sometimes visited this earth. She would sit in a thick wood in the park,
+and talk to them; make little songs addressed to them, and sing them to
+tunes of her own composing; and her native wood notes wild were sweet
+and touching.
+
+Her father always exclaimed against female acquirements, and was glad
+that his wife's indolence and ill health made her not trouble herself
+about them. She had besides another reason, she did not wish to have a
+fine tall girl brought forward into notice as her daughter; she still
+expected to recover, and figure away in the gay world. Her husband was
+very tyrannical and passionate; indeed so very easily irritated when
+inebriated, that Mary was continually in dread lest he should frighten
+her mother to death; her sickness called forth all Mary's tenderness,
+and exercised her compassion so continually, that it became more than a
+match for self-love, and was the governing propensity of her heart
+through life. She was violent in her temper; but she saw her father's
+faults, and would weep when obliged to compare his temper with her
+own.--She did more; artless prayers rose to Heaven for pardon, when she
+was conscious of having erred; and her contrition was so exceedingly
+painful, that she watched diligently the first movements of anger and
+impatience, to save herself this cruel remorse.
+
+Sublime ideas filled her young mind--always connected with devotional
+sentiments; extemporary effusions of gratitude, and rhapsodies of
+praise would burst often from her, when she listened to the birds, or
+pursued the deer. She would gaze on the moon, and ramble through the
+gloomy path, observing the various shapes the clouds assumed, and listen
+to the sea that was not far distant. The wandering spirits, which she
+imagined inhabited every part of nature, were her constant friends and
+confidants. She began to consider the Great First Cause, formed just
+notions of his attributes, and, in particular, dwelt on his wisdom and
+goodness. Could she have loved her father or mother, had they returned
+her affection, she would not so soon, perhaps, have sought out a new
+world.
+
+Her sensibility prompted her to search for an object to love; on earth
+it was not to be found: her mother had often disappointed her, and the
+apparent partiality she shewed to her brother gave her exquisite
+pain--produced a kind of habitual melancholy, led her into a fondness
+for reading tales of woe, and made her almost realize the fictitious
+distress.
+
+She had not any notion of death till a little chicken expired at her
+feet; and her father had a dog hung in a passion. She then concluded
+animals had souls, or they would not have been subjected to the caprice
+of man; but what was the soul of man or beast? In this style year after
+year rolled on, her mother still vegetating.
+
+A little girl who attended in the nursery fell sick. Mary paid her great
+attention; contrary to her wish, she was sent out of the house to her
+mother, a poor woman, whom necessity obliged to leave her sick child
+while she earned her daily bread. The poor wretch, in a fit of delirium
+stabbed herself, and Mary saw her dead body, and heard the dismal
+account; and so strongly did it impress her imagination, that every
+night of her life the bleeding corpse presented itself to her when the
+first began to slumber. Tortured by it, she at last made a vow, that if
+she was ever mistress of a family she would herself watch over every
+part of it. The impression that this accident made was indelible.
+
+As her mother grew imperceptibly worse and worse, her father, who did
+not understand such a lingering complaint, imagined his wife was only
+grown still more whimsical, and that if she could be prevailed on to
+exert herself, her health would soon be re-established. In general he
+treated her with indifference; but when her illness at all interfered
+with his pleasures, he expostulated in the most cruel manner, and
+visibly harassed the invalid. Mary would then assiduously try to turn
+his attention to something else; and when sent out of the room, would
+watch at the door, until the storm was over, for unless it was, she
+could not rest. Other causes also contributed to disturb her repose: her
+mother's luke-warm manner of performing her religious duties, filled her
+with anguish; and when she observed her father's vices, the unbidden
+tears would flow. She was miserable when beggars were driven from the
+gate without being relieved; if she could do it unperceived, she would
+give them her own breakfast, and feel gratified, when, in consequence of
+it, she was pinched by hunger.
+
+She had once, or twice, told her little secrets to her mother; they were
+laughed at, and she determined never to do it again. In this manner was
+she left to reflect on her own feelings; and so strengthened were they
+by being meditated on, that her character early became singular and
+permanent. Her understanding was strong and clear, when not clouded by
+her feelings; but she was too much the creature of impulse, and the
+slave of compassion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. III.
+
+
+Near her father's house lived a poor widow, who had been brought up in
+affluence, but reduced to great distress by the extravagance of her
+husband; he had destroyed his constitution while he spent his fortune;
+and dying, left his wife, and five small children, to live on a very
+scanty pittance. The eldest daughter was for some years educated by a
+distant relation, a Clergyman. While she was with him a young gentleman,
+son to a man of property in the neighbourhood, took particular notice of
+her. It is true, he never talked of love; but then they played and sung
+in concert; drew landscapes together, and while she worked he read to
+her, cultivated her taste, and stole imperceptibly her heart. Just at
+this juncture, when smiling, unanalyzed hope made every prospect bright,
+and gay expectation danced in her eyes, her benefactor died. She
+returned to her mother--the companion of her youth forgot her, they took
+no more sweet counsel together. This disappointment spread a sadness
+over her countenance, and made it interesting. She grew fond of
+solitude, and her character appeared similar to Mary's, though her
+natural disposition was very different.
+
+She was several years older than Mary, yet her refinement, her taste,
+caught her eye, and she eagerly sought her friendship: before her return
+she had assisted the family, which was almost reduced to the last ebb;
+and now she had another motive to actuate her.
+
+As she had often occasion to send messages to Ann, her new friend,
+mistakes were frequently made; Ann proposed that in future they should
+be written ones, to obviate this difficulty, and render their
+intercourse more agreeable. Young people are mostly fond of scribbling;
+Mary had had very little instruction; but by copying her friend's
+letters, whose hand she admired, she soon became a proficient; a little
+practice made her write with tolerable correctness, and her genius gave
+force to it. In conversation, and in writing, when she felt, she was
+pathetic, tender and persuasive; and she expressed contempt with such
+energy, that few could stand the flash of her eyes.
+
+As she grew more intimate with Ann, her manners were softened, and she
+acquired a degree of equality in her behaviour: yet still her spirits
+were fluctuating, and her movements rapid. She felt less pain on
+account of her mother's partiality to her brother, as she hoped now to
+experience the pleasure of being beloved; but this hope led her into new
+sorrows, and, as usual, paved the way for disappointment. Ann only felt
+gratitude; her heart was entirely engrossed by one object, and
+friendship could not serve as a substitute; memory officiously retraced
+past scenes, and unavailing wishes made time loiter.
+
+Mary was often hurt by the involuntary indifference which these
+consequences produced. When her friend was all the world to her, she
+found she was not as necessary to her happiness; and her delicate mind
+could not bear to obtrude her affection, or receive love as an alms, the
+offspring of pity. Very frequently has she ran to her with delight, and
+not perceiving any thing of the same kind in Ann's countenance, she has
+shrunk back; and, falling from one extreme into the other, instead of a
+warm greeting that was just slipping from her tongue, her expressions
+seemed to be dictated by the most chilling insensibility.
+
+She would then imagine that she looked sickly or unhappy, and then all
+her tenderness would return like a torrent, and bear away all
+reflection. In this manner was her sensibility called forth, and
+exercised, by her mother's illness, her friend's misfortunes, and her
+own unsettled mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. IV.
+
+
+Near to her father's house was a range of mountains; some of them were,
+literally speaking, cloud-capt, for on them clouds continually rested,
+and gave grandeur to the prospect; and down many of their sides the
+little bubbling cascades ran till they swelled a beautiful river.
+Through the straggling trees and bushes the wind whistled, and on them
+the birds sung, particularly the robins; they also found shelter in the
+ivy of an old castle, a haunted one, as the story went; it was situated
+on the brow of one of the mountains, and commanded a view of the sea.
+This castle had been inhabited by some of her ancestors; and many tales
+had the old house-keeper told her of the worthies who had resided there.
+
+When her mother frowned, and her friend looked cool, she would steal to
+this retirement, where human foot seldom trod--gaze on the sea, observe
+the grey clouds, or listen to the wind which struggled to free itself
+from the only thing that impeded its course. When more cheerful, she
+admired the various dispositions of light and shade, the beautiful tints
+the gleams of sunshine gave to the distant hills; then she rejoiced in
+existence, and darted into futurity.
+
+One way home was through the cavity of a rock covered with a thin layer
+of earth, just sufficient to afford nourishment to a few stunted shrubs
+and wild plants, which grew on its sides, and nodded over the summit. A
+clear stream broke out of it, and ran amongst the pieces of rocks
+fallen into it. Here twilight always reigned--it seemed the Temple of
+Solitude; yet, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, when the foot
+sounded on the rock, it terrified the intruder, and inspired a strange
+feeling, as if the rightful sovereign was dislodged. In this retreat she
+read Thomson's Seasons, Young's Night-Thoughts, and Paradise Lost.
+
+At a little distance from it were the huts of a few poor fishermen, who
+supported their numerous children by their precarious labour. In these
+little huts she frequently rested, and denied herself every childish
+gratification, in order to relieve the necessities of the inhabitants.
+Her heart yearned for them, and would dance with joy when she had
+relieved their wants, or afforded them pleasure.
+
+In these pursuits she learned the luxury of doing good; and the sweet
+tears of benevolence frequently moistened her eyes, and gave them a
+sparkle which, exclusive of that, they had not; on the contrary, they
+were rather fixed, and would never have been observed if her soul had
+not animated them. They were not at all like those brilliant ones which
+look like polished diamonds, and dart from every superfice, giving more
+light to the beholders than they receive themselves.
+
+Her benevolence, indeed, knew no bounds; the distress of others carried
+her out of herself; and she rested not till she had relieved or
+comforted them. The warmth of her compassion often made her so diligent,
+that many things occurred to her, which might have escaped a less
+interested observer.
+
+In like manner, she entered with such spirit into whatever she read,
+and the emotions thereby raised were so strong, that it soon became a
+part of her mind.
+
+Enthusiastic sentiments of devotion at this period actuated her; her
+Creator was almost apparent to her senses in his works; but they were
+mostly the grand or solemn features of Nature which she delighted to
+contemplate. She would stand and behold the waves rolling, and think of
+the voice that could still the tumultuous deep.
+
+These propensities gave the colour to her mind, before the passions
+began to exercise their tyrannic sway, and particularly pointed out
+those which the soil would have a tendency to nurse.
+
+Years after, when wandering through the same scenes, her imagination has
+strayed back, to trace the first placid sentiments they inspired, and
+she would earnestly desire to regain the same peaceful tranquillity.
+
+Many nights she sat up, if I may be allowed the expression, _conversing_
+with the Author of Nature, making verses, and singing hymns of her own
+composing. She considered also, and tried to discern what end her
+various faculties were destined to pursue; and had a glimpse of a truth,
+which afterwards more fully unfolded itself.
+
+She thought that only an infinite being could fill the human soul, and
+that when other objects were followed as a means of happiness, the
+delusion led to misery, the consequence of disappointment. Under the
+influence of ardent affections, how often has she forgot this
+conviction, and as often returned to it again, when it struck her with
+redoubled force. Often did she taste unmixed delight; her joys, her
+ecstacies arose from genius.
+
+She was now fifteen, and she wished to receive the holy sacrament; and
+perusing the scriptures, and discussing some points of doctrine which
+puzzled her, she would sit up half the night, her favourite time for
+employing her mind; she too plainly perceived that she saw through a
+glass darkly; and that the bounds set to stop our intellectual
+researches, is one of the trials of a probationary state.
+
+But her affections were roused by the display of divine mercy; and she
+eagerly desired to commemorate the dying love of her great benefactor.
+The night before the important day, when she was to take on herself her
+baptismal vow, she could not go to bed; the sun broke in on her
+meditations, and found her not exhausted by her watching.
+
+The orient pearls were strewed around--she hailed the morn, and sung
+with wild delight, Glory to God on high, good will towards men. She was
+indeed so much affected when she joined in the prayer for her eternal
+preservation, that she could hardly conceal her violent emotions; and
+the recollection never failed to wake her dormant piety when earthly
+passions made it grow languid.
+
+These various movements of her mind were not commented on, nor were the
+luxuriant shoots restrained by culture. The servants and the poor adored
+her.
+
+In order to be enabled to gratify herself in the highest degree, she
+practiced the most rigid oeconomy, and had such power over her
+appetites and whims, that without any great effort she conquered them
+so entirely, that when her understanding or affections had an object,
+she almost forgot she had a body which required nourishment.
+
+This habit of thinking, this kind of absorption, gave strength to the
+passions.
+
+We will now enter on the more active field of life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. V.
+
+
+A few months after Mary was turned of seventeen, her brother was
+attacked by a violent fever, and died before his father could reach the
+school.
+
+She was now an heiress, and her mother began to think her of
+consequence, and did not call her _the child_. Proper masters were sent
+for; she was taught to dance, and an extraordinary master procured to
+perfect her in that most necessary of all accomplishments.
+
+A part of the estate she was to inherit had been litigated, and the heir
+of the person who still carried on a Chancery suit, was only two years
+younger than our heroine. The fathers, spite of the dispute, frequently
+met, and, in order to settle it amicably, they one day, over a bottle,
+determined to quash it by a marriage, and, by uniting the two estates,
+to preclude all farther enquiries into the merits of their different
+claims.
+
+While this important matter was settling, Mary was otherwise employed.
+Ann's mother's resources were failing; and the ghastly phantom, poverty,
+made hasty strides to catch them in his clutches. Ann had not fortitude
+enough to brave such accumulated misery; besides, the canker-worm was
+lodged in her heart, and preyed on her health. She denied herself every
+little comfort; things that would be no sacrifice when a person is well,
+are absolutely necessary to alleviate bodily pain, and support the
+animal functions.
+
+There were many elegant amusements, that she had acquired a relish for,
+which might have taken her mind off from its most destructive bent; but
+these her indigence would not allow her to enjoy: forced then, by way of
+relaxation, to play the tunes her lover admired, and handle the pencil
+he taught her to hold, no wonder his image floated on her imagination,
+and that taste invigorated love.
+
+Poverty, and all its inelegant attendants, were in her mother's abode;
+and she, though a good sort of a woman, was not calculated to banish, by
+her trivial, uninteresting chat, the delirium in which her daughter was
+lost.
+
+This ill-fated love had given a bewitching softness to her manners, a
+delicacy so truly feminine, that a man of any feeling could not behold
+her without wishing to chase her sorrows away. She was timid and
+irresolute, and rather fond of dissipation; grief only had power to make
+her reflect.
+
+In every thing it was not the great, but the beautiful, or the pretty,
+that caught her attention. And in composition, the polish of style, and
+harmony of numbers, interested her much more than the flights of genius,
+or abstracted speculations.
+
+She often wondered at the books Mary chose, who, though she had a lively
+imagination, would frequently study authors whose works were addressed
+to the understanding. This liking taught her to arrange her thoughts,
+and argue with herself, even when under the influence of the most
+violent passions.
+
+Ann's misfortunes and ill health were strong ties to bind Mary to her;
+she wished so continually to have a home to receive her in, that it
+drove every other desire out of her mind; and, dwelling on the tender
+schemes which compassion and friendship dictated, she longed most
+ardently to put them in practice.
+
+Fondly as she loved her friend, she did not forget her mother, whose
+decline was so imperceptible, that they were not aware of her
+approaching dissolution. The physician, however, observing the most
+alarming symptoms; her husband was apprised of her immediate danger; and
+then first mentioned to her his designs with respect to his daughter.
+
+She approved of them; Mary was sent for; she was not at home; she had
+rambled to visit Ann, and found her in an hysteric fit. The landlord of
+her little farm had sent his agent for the rent, which had long been due
+to him; and he threatened to seize the stock that still remained, and
+turn them out, if they did not very shortly discharge the arrears.
+
+As this man made a private fortune by harassing the tenants of the
+person to whom he was deputy, little was to be expected from his
+forbearance.
+
+All this was told to Mary--and the mother added, she had many other
+creditors who would, in all probability, take the alarm, and snatch from
+them all that had been saved out of the wreck. "I could bear all," she
+cried; "but what will become of my children? Of this child," pointing to
+the fainting Ann, "whose constitution is already undermined by care and
+grief--where will she go?"--Mary's heart ceased to beat while she asked
+the question--She attempted to speak; but the inarticulate sounds died
+away. Before she had recovered herself, her father called himself to
+enquire for her; and desired her instantly to accompany him home.
+
+Engrossed by the scene of misery she had been witness to, she walked
+silently by his side, when he roused her out of her reverie by telling
+her that in all likelihood her mother had not many hours to live; and
+before she could return him any answer, informed her that they had both
+determined to marry her to Charles, his friend's son; he added, the
+ceremony was to be performed directly, that her mother might be witness
+of it; for such a desire she had expressed with childish eagerness.
+
+Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with
+a vacant stare, fixed them on her father's face; but they were no longer
+a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain. As she drew near the
+house, her wonted presence of mind returned: after this suspension of
+thought, a thousand darted into her mind,--her dying mother,--her
+friend's miserable situation,--and an extreme horror at taking--at being
+forced to take, such a hasty step; but she did not feel the disgust, the
+reluctance, which arises from a prior attachment.
+
+She loved Ann better than any one in the world--to snatch her from the
+very jaws of destruction--she would have encountered a lion. To have
+this friend constantly with her; to make her mind easy with respect to
+her family, would it not be superlative bliss?
+
+Full of these thoughts she entered her mother's chamber, but they then
+fled at the sight of a dying parent. She went to her, took her hand; it
+feebly pressed her's. "My child," said the languid mother: the words
+reached her heart; she had seldom heard them pronounced with accents
+denoting affection; "My child, I have not always treated you with
+kindness--God forgive me! do you?"--Mary's tears strayed in a
+disregarded stream; on her bosom the big drops fell, but did not relieve
+the fluttering tenant. "I forgive you!" said she, in a tone of
+astonishment.
+
+The clergyman came in to read the service for the sick, and afterwards
+the marriage ceremony was performed. Mary stood like a statue of
+Despair, and pronounced the awful vow without thinking of it; and then
+ran to support her mother, who expired the same night in her arms.
+
+Her husband set off for the continent the same day, with a tutor, to
+finish his studies at one of the foreign universities.
+
+Ann was sent for to console her, not on account of the departure of her
+new relation, a boy she seldom took any notice of, but to reconcile her
+to her fate; besides, it was necessary she should have a female
+companion, and there was not any maiden aunt in the family, or cousin of
+the same class.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. VI.
+
+
+Mary was allowed to pay the rent which gave her so much uneasiness, and
+she exerted every nerve to prevail on her father effectually to succour
+the family; but the utmost she could obtain was a small sum very
+inadequate to the purpose, to enable the poor woman to carry into
+execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.
+
+Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight
+with him, than Mary's arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy and
+friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive of
+occult qualities he never thought of, as they could not be seen or
+felt.
+
+After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish,
+though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of
+amusing her. Had her health been re-established, the time would have
+passed in a tranquil, improving manner.
+
+During the year of mourning they lived in retirement; music, drawing,
+and reading, filled up the time; and Mary's taste and judgment were both
+improved by contracting a habit of observation, and permitting the
+simple beauties of Nature to occupy her thoughts.
+
+She had a wonderful quickness in discerning distinctions and combining
+ideas, that at the first glance did not appear to be similar. But these
+various pursuits did not banish all her cares, or carry off all her
+constitutional black bile. Before she enjoyed Ann's society, she
+imagined it would have made her completely happy: she was disappointed,
+and yet knew not what to complain of.
+
+As her friend could not accompany her in her walks, and wished to be
+alone, for a very obvious reason, she would return to her old haunts,
+retrace her anticipated pleasures--and wonder how they changed their
+colour in possession, and proved so futile.
+
+She had not yet found the companion she looked for. Ann and she were not
+congenial minds, nor did she contribute to her comfort in the degree she
+expected. She shielded her from poverty; but this was only a negative
+blessing; when under the pressure it was very grievous, and still more
+so were the apprehensions; but when exempt from them, she was not
+contented.
+
+Such is human nature, its laws were not to be inverted to gratify our
+heroine, and stop the progress of her understanding, happiness only
+flourished in paradise--we cannot taste and live.
+
+Another year passed away with increasing apprehensions. Ann had a hectic
+cough, and many unfavourable prognostics: Mary then forgot every thing
+but the fear of losing her, and even imagined that her recovery would
+have made her happy.
+
+Her anxiety led her to study physic, and for some time she only read
+books of that cast; and this knowledge, literally speaking, ended in
+vanity and vexation of spirit, as it enabled her to foresee what she
+could not prevent.
+
+As her mind expanded, her marriage appeared a dreadful misfortune; she
+was sometimes reminded of the heavy yoke, and bitter was the
+recollection!
+
+In one thing there seemed to be a sympathy between them, for she wrote
+formal answers to his as formal letters. An extreme dislike took root in
+her mind; the found of his name made her turn sick; but she forgot all,
+listening to Ann's cough, and supporting her languid frame. She would
+then catch her to her bosom with convulsive eagerness, as if to save her
+from sinking into an opening grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. VII.
+
+
+It was the will of Providence that Mary should experience almost every
+species of sorrow. Her father was thrown from his horse, when his blood
+was in a very inflammatory state, and the bruises were very dangerous;
+his recovery was not expected by the physical tribe.
+
+Terrified at seeing him so near death, and yet so ill prepared for it,
+his daughter sat by his bed, oppressed by the keenest anguish, which her
+piety increased.
+
+Her grief had nothing selfish in it; he was not a friend or protector;
+but he was her father, an unhappy wretch, going into eternity, depraved
+and thoughtless. Could a life of sensuality be a preparation for a
+peaceful death? Thus meditating, she passed the still midnight hour by
+his bedside.
+
+The nurse fell asleep, nor did a violent thunder storm interrupt her
+repose, though it made the night appear still more terrific to Mary. Her
+father's unequal breathing alarmed her, when she heard a long drawn
+breath, she feared it was his last, and watching for another, a dreadful
+peal of thunder struck her ears. Considering the separation of the soul
+and body, this night seemed sadly solemn, and the hours long.
+
+Death is indeed a king of terrors when he attacks the vicious man! The
+compassionate heart finds not any comfort; but dreads an eternal
+separation. No transporting greetings are anticipated, when the
+survivors also shall have finished their course; but all is black!--the
+grave may truly be said to receive the departed--this is the sting of
+death!
+
+Night after night Mary watched, and this excessive fatigue impaired her
+own health, but had a worse effect on Ann; though she constantly went to
+bed, she could not rest; a number of uneasy thoughts obtruded
+themselves; and apprehensions about Mary, whom she loved as well as her
+exhausted heart could love, harassed her mind. After a sleepless,
+feverish night she had a violent fit of coughing, and burst a
+blood-vessel. The physician, who was in the house, was sent for, and
+when he left the patient, Mary, with an authoritative voice, insisted on
+knowing his real opinion. Reluctantly he gave it, that her friend was in
+a critical state; and if she passed the approaching winter in England,
+he imagined she would die in the spring; a season fatal to consumptive
+disorders. The spring!--Her husband was then expected.--Gracious Heaven,
+could she bear all this.
+
+In a few days her father breathed his last. The horrid sensations his
+death occasioned were too poignant to be durable: and Ann's danger, and
+her own situation, made Mary deliberate what mode of conduct she should
+pursue. She feared this event might hasten the return of her husband,
+and prevent her putting into execution a plan she had determined on. It
+was to accompany Ann to a more salubrious climate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. VIII.
+
+
+I mentioned before, that Mary had never had any particular attachment,
+to give rise to the disgust that daily gained ground. Her friendship for
+Ann occupied her heart, and resembled a passion. She had had, indeed,
+several transient likings; but they did not amount to love. The society
+of men of genius delighted her, and improved her faculties. With beings
+of this class she did not often meet; it is a rare genus; her first
+favourites were men past the meridian of life, and of a philosophic
+turn.
+
+Determined on going to the South of France, or Lisbon; she wrote to the
+man she had promised to obey. The physicians had said change of air was
+necessary for her as well as her friend. She mentioned this, and added,
+"Her comfort, almost her existence, depended on the recovery of the
+invalid she wished to attend; and that should she neglect to follow the
+medical advice she had received, she should never forgive herself, or
+those who endeavoured to prevent her." Full of her design, she wrote
+with more than usual freedom; and this letter was like most of her
+others, a transcript of her heart.
+
+"This dear friend," she exclaimed, "I love for her agreeable qualities,
+and substantial virtues. Continual attention to her health, and the
+tender office of a nurse, have created an affection very like a maternal
+one--I am her only support, she leans on me--could I forsake the
+forsaken, and break the bruised reed--No--I would die first! I must--I
+will go."
+
+She would have added, "you would very much oblige me by consenting;" but
+her heart revolted--and irresolutely she wrote something about wishing
+him happy.--"Do I not wish all the world well?" she cried, as she
+subscribed her name--It was blotted, the letter sealed in a hurry, and
+sent out of her sight; and she began to prepare for her journey.
+
+By the return of the post she received an answer; it contained some
+common-place remarks on her romantic friendship, as he termed it; "But
+as the physicians advised change of air, he had no objection."
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. IX.
+
+
+There was nothing now to retard their journey; and Mary chose Lisbon
+rather than France, on account of its being further removed from the
+only person she wished not to see.
+
+They set off accordingly for Falmouth, in their way to that city. The
+journey was of use to Ann, and Mary's spirits were raised by her
+recovered looks--She had been in despair--now she gave way to hope, and
+was intoxicated with it. On ship-board Ann always remained in the cabin;
+the sight of the water terrified her: on the contrary, Mary, after she
+was gone to bed, or when she fell asleep in the day, went on deck,
+conversed with the sailors, and surveyed the boundless expanse before
+her with delight. One instant she would regard the ocean, the next the
+beings who braved its fury. Their insensibility and want of fear, she
+could not name courage; their thoughtless mirth was quite of an animal
+kind, and their feelings as impetuous and uncertain as the element they
+plowed.
+
+They had only been a week at sea when they hailed the rock of Lisbon,
+and the next morning anchored at the castle. After the customary visits,
+they were permitted to go on shore, about three miles from the city; and
+while one of the crew, who understood the language, went to procure them
+one of the ugly carriages peculiar to the country, they waited in the
+Irish convent, which is situated close to the Tagus.
+
+Some of the people offered to conduct them into the church, where there
+was a fine organ playing; Mary followed them, but Ann preferred staying
+with a nun she had entered into conversation with.
+
+One of the nuns, who had a sweet voice, was singing; Mary was struck
+with awe; her heart joined in the devotion; and tears of gratitude and
+tenderness flowed from her eyes. My Father, I thank thee! burst from
+her--words were inadequate to express her feelings. Silently, she
+surveyed the lofty dome; heard unaccustomed sounds; and saw faces,
+strange ones, that she could not yet greet with fraternal love.
+
+In an unknown land, she considered that the Being she adored inhabited
+eternity, was ever present in unnumbered worlds. When she had not any
+one she loved near her, she was particularly sensible of the presence
+of her Almighty Friend.
+
+The arrival of the carriage put a stop to her speculations; it was to
+conduct them to an hotel, fitted up for the reception of invalids.
+Unfortunately, before they could reach it there was a violent shower of
+rain; and as the wind was very high, it beat against the leather
+curtains, which they drew along the front of the vehicle, to shelter
+themselves from it; but it availed not, some of the rain forced its way,
+and Ann felt the effects of it, for she caught cold, spite of Mary's
+precautions.
+
+As is the custom, the rest of the invalids, or lodgers, sent to enquire
+after their health; and as soon as Ann left her chamber, in which her
+complaints seldom confined her the whole day, they came in person to pay
+their compliments. Three fashionable females, and two gentlemen; the
+one a brother of the eldest of the young ladies, and the other an
+invalid, who came, like themselves, for the benefit of the air. They
+entered into conversation immediately.
+
+People who meet in a strange country, and are all together in a house,
+soon get acquainted, without the formalities which attend visiting in
+separate houses, where they are surrounded by domestic friends. Ann was
+particularly delighted at meeting with agreeable society; a little
+hectic fever generally made her low-spirited in the morning, and lively
+in the evening, when she wished for company. Mary, who only thought of
+her, determined to cultivate their acquaintance, as she knew, that if
+her mind could be diverted, her body might gain strength.
+
+They were all musical, and proposed having little concerts. One of the
+gentlemen played on the violin, and the other on the german-flute. The
+instruments were brought in, with all the eagerness that attends putting
+a new scheme in execution.
+
+Mary had not said much, for she was diffident; she seldom joined in
+general conversations; though her quickness of penetration enabled her
+soon to enter into the characters of those she conversed with; and her
+sensibility made her desirous of pleasing every human creature. Besides,
+if her mind was not occupied by any particular sorrow, or study, she
+caught reflected pleasure, and was glad to see others happy, though
+their mirth did not interest her.
+
+This day she was continually thinking of Ann's recovery, and encouraging
+the cheerful hopes, which though they dissipated the spirits that had
+been condensed by melancholy, yet made her wish to be silent. The music,
+more than the conversation, disturbed her reflections; but not at first.
+The gentleman who played on the german-flute, was a handsome, well-bred,
+sensible man; and his observations, if not original, were pertinent.
+
+The other, who had not said much, began to touch the violin, and played
+a little Scotch ballad; he brought such a thrilling sound out of the
+instrument, that Mary started, and looking at him with more attention
+than she had done before, and saw, in a face rather ugly, strong lines
+of genius. His manners were awkward, that kind of awkwardness which is
+often found in literary men: he seemed a thinker, and delivered his
+opinions in elegant expressions, and musical tones of voice.
+
+When the concert was over, they all retired to their apartments. Mary
+always slept with Ann, as she was subject to terrifying dreams; and
+frequently in the night was obliged to be supported, to avoid
+suffocation. They chatted about their new acquaintance in their own
+apartment, and, with respect to the gentlemen, differed in opinion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. X.
+
+
+Every day almost they saw their new acquaintance; and civility produced
+intimacy. Mary sometimes left her friend with them; while she indulged
+herself in viewing new modes of life, and searching out the causes which
+produced them. She had a metaphysical turn, which inclined her to
+reflect on every object that passed by her; and her mind was not like a
+mirror, which receives every floating image, but does not retain them:
+she had not any prejudices, for every opinion was examined before it was
+adopted.
+
+The Roman Catholic ceremonies attracted her attention, and gave rise to
+conversations when they all met; and one of the gentlemen continually
+introduced deistical notions, when he ridiculed the pageantry they all
+were surprised at observing. Mary thought of both the subjects, the
+Romish tenets, and the deistical doubts; and though not a sceptic,
+thought it right to examine the evidence on which her faith was built.
+She read Butler's Analogy, and some other authors: and these researches
+made her a christian from conviction, and she learned charity,
+particularly with respect to sectaries; saw that apparently good and
+solid arguments might take their rise from different points of view; and
+she rejoiced to find that those she should not concur with had some
+reason on their side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XI.
+
+
+When I mentioned the three ladies, I said they were fashionable women;
+and it was all the praise, as a faithful historian, I could bestow on
+them; the only thing in which they were consistent. I forgot to mention
+that they were all of one family, a mother, her daughter, and niece. The
+daughter was sent by her physician, to avoid a northerly winter; the
+mother, her niece, and nephew, accompanied her.
+
+They were people of rank; but unfortunately, though of an ancient
+family, the title had descended to a very remote branch--a branch they
+took care to be intimate with; and servilely copied the Countess's
+airs. Their minds were shackled with a set of notions concerning
+propriety, the fitness of things for the world's eye, trammels which
+always hamper weak people. What will the world say? was the first thing
+that was thought of, when they intended doing any thing they had not
+done before. Or what would the Countess do on such an occasion? And when
+this question was answered, the right or wrong was discovered without
+the trouble of their having any idea of the matter in their own heads.
+This same Countess was a fine planet, and the satellites observed a most
+harmonic dance around her.
+
+After this account it is scarcely necessary to add, that their minds had
+received very little cultivation. They were taught French, Italian, and
+Spanish; English was their vulgar tongue. And what did they learn?
+Hamlet will tell you--words--words. But let me not forget that they
+squalled Italian songs in the true _gusto_. Without having any seeds
+sown in their understanding, or the affections of the heart set to work,
+they were brought out of their nursery, or the place they were secluded
+in, to prevent their faces being common; like blazing stars, to
+captivate Lords.
+
+They were pretty, and hurrying from one party of pleasure to another,
+occasioned the disorder which required change of air. The mother, if we
+except her being near twenty years older, was just the same creature;
+and these additional years only served to make her more tenaciously
+adhere to her habits of folly, and decide with stupid gravity, some
+trivial points of ceremony, as a matter of the last importance; of
+which she was a competent judge, from having lived in the fashionable
+world so long: that world to which the ignorant look up as we do to the
+sun.
+
+It appears to me that every creature has some notion--or rather relish,
+of the sublime. Riches, and the consequent state, are the sublime of
+weak minds:--These images fill, nay, are too big for their narrow souls.
+
+One afternoon, which they had engaged to spend together, Ann was so ill,
+that Mary was obliged to send an apology for not attending the
+tea-table. The apology brought them on the carpet; and the mother, with
+a look of solemn importance, turned to the sick man, whose name was
+Henry, and said;
+
+"Though people of the first fashion are frequently at places of this
+kind, intimate with they know not who; yet I do not choose that my
+daughter, whose family is so respectable, should be intimate with any
+one she would blush to know elsewhere. It is only on that account, for I
+never suffer her to be with any one but in my company," added she,
+sitting more erect; and a smile of self-complacency dressed her
+countenance.
+
+"I have enquired concerning these strangers, and find that the one who
+has the most dignity in her manners, is really a woman of fortune."
+"Lord, mamma, how ill she dresses:" mamma went on; "She is a romantic
+creature, you must not copy her, miss; yet she is an heiress of the
+large fortune in ----shire, of which you may remember to have heard the
+Countess speak the night you had on the dancing-dress that was so much
+admired; but she is married."
+
+She then told them the whole story as she heard it from her maid, who
+picked it out of Mary's servant. "She is a foolish creature, and this
+friend that she pays as much attention to as if she was a lady of
+quality, is a beggar." "Well, how strange!" cried the girls.
+
+"She is, however, a charming creature," said her nephew. Henry sighed,
+and strode across the room once or twice; then took up his violin, and
+played the air which first struck Mary; he had often heard her praise
+it.
+
+The music was uncommonly melodious, "And came stealing on the senses
+like the sweet south." The well-known sounds reached Mary as she sat by
+her friend--she listened without knowing that she did--and shed tears
+almost without being conscious of it. Ann soon fell asleep, as she had
+taken an opiate. Mary, then brooding over her fears, began to imagine
+she had deceived herself--Ann was still very ill; hope had beguiled many
+heavy hours; yet she was displeased with herself for admitting this
+welcome guest.--And she worked up her mind to such a degree of anxiety,
+that she determined, once more, to seek medical aid.
+
+No sooner did she determine, than she ran down with a discomposed look,
+to enquire of the ladies who she should send for. When she entered the
+room she could not articulate her fears--it appeared like pronouncing
+Ann's sentence of death; her faultering tongue dropped some broken
+words, and she remained silent. The ladies wondered that a person of her
+sense should be so little mistress of herself; and began to administer
+some common-place comfort, as, that it was our duty to submit to the
+will of Heaven, and the like trite consolations, which Mary did not
+answer; but waving her hand, with an air of impatience, she exclaimed,
+"I cannot live without her!--I have no other friend; if I lose her, what
+a desart will the world be to me." "No other friend," re-echoed they,
+"have you not a husband?"
+
+Mary shrunk back, and was alternately pale and red. A delicate sense of
+propriety prevented her replying; and recalled her bewildered
+reason.--Assuming, in consequence of her recollection, a more composed
+manner, she made the intended enquiry, and left the room. Henry's eyes
+followed her while the females very freely animadverted on her strange
+behaviour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XII.
+
+
+The physician was sent for; his prescription afforded Ann a little
+temporary relief; and they again joined the circle. Unfortunately, the
+weather happened to be constantly wet for more than a week, and confined
+them to the house. Ann then found the ladies not so agreeable; when they
+sat whole hours together, the thread-bare topics were exhausted; and,
+but for cards or music, the long evenings would have been yawned away in
+listless indolence.
+
+The bad weather had had as ill an effect on Henry as on Ann. He was
+frequently very thoughtful, or rather melancholy; this melancholy would
+of itself have attracted Mary's notice, if she had not found his
+conversation so infinitely superior to the rest of the group. When she
+conversed with him, all the faculties of her soul unfolded themselves;
+genius animated her expressive countenance and the most graceful,
+unaffected gestures gave energy to her discourse.
+
+They frequently discussed very important subjects, while the rest were
+singing or playing cards, nor were they observed for doing so, as Henry,
+whom they all were pleased with, in the way of gallantry shewed them all
+more attention than her. Besides, as there was nothing alluring in her
+dress or manner, they never dreamt of her being preferred to them.
+
+Henry was a man of learning; he had also studied mankind, and knew many
+of the intricacies of the human heart, from having felt the infirmities
+of his own. His taste was just, as it had a standard--Nature, which he
+observed with a critical eye. Mary could not help thinking that in his
+company her mind expanded, as he always went below the surface. She
+increased her stock of ideas, and her taste was improved.
+
+He was also a pious man; his rational religious sentiments received
+warmth from his sensibility; and, except on very particular occasions,
+kept it in proper bounds; these sentiments had likewise formed his
+temper; he was gentle, and easily to be intreated. The ridiculous
+ceremonies they were every day witness to, led them into what are termed
+grave subjects, and made him explain his opinions, which, at other
+times, he was neither ashamed of, nor unnecessarily brought forward to
+notice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XIII.
+
+
+When the weather began to clear up, Mary sometimes rode out alone,
+purposely to view the ruins that still remained of the earthquake: or
+she would ride to the banks of the Tagus, to feast her eyes with the
+sight of that magnificent river. At other times she would visit the
+churches, as she was particularly fond of seeing historical paintings.
+
+One of these visits gave rise to the subject, and the whole party
+descanted on it; but as the ladies could not handle it well, they soon
+adverted to portraits; and talked of the attitudes and characters in
+which they should wish to be drawn. Mary did not fix on one--when
+Henry, with more apparent warmth than usual, said, "I would give the
+world for your picture, with the expression I have seen in your face,
+when you have been supporting your friend."
+
+This delicate compliment did not gratify her vanity, but it reached her
+heart. She then recollected that she had once sat for her picture--for
+whom was it designed? For a boy! Her cheeks flushed with indignation, so
+strongly did she feel an emotion of contempt at having been thrown
+away--given in with an estate.
+
+As Mary again gave way to hope, her mind was more disengaged; and her
+thoughts were employed about the objects around her.
+
+She visited several convents, and found that solitude only eradicates
+some passions, to give strength to others; the most baneful ones. She
+saw that religion does not consist in ceremonies; and that many prayers
+may fall from the lips without purifying the heart.
+
+They who imagine they can be religious without governing their tempers,
+or exercising benevolence in its most extensive sense, must certainly
+allow, that their religious duties are only practiced from selfish
+principles; how then can they be called good? The pattern of all
+goodness went about _doing_ good. Wrapped up in themselves, the nuns
+only thought of inferior gratifications. And a number of intrigues were
+carried on to accelerate certain points on which their hearts were
+fixed:
+
+Such as obtaining offices of trust or authority; or avoiding those that
+were servile or laborious. In short, when they could be neither wives
+nor mothers, they aimed at being superiors, and became the most selfish
+creatures in the world: the passions that were curbed gave strength to
+the appetites, or to those mean passions which only tend to provide for
+the gratification of them. Was this seclusion from the world? or did
+they conquer its vanities or avoid its vexations?
+
+In these abodes the unhappy individual, who, in the first paroxysm of
+grief flies to them for refuge, finds too late she took a wrong step.
+The same warmth which determined her will make her repent; and sorrow,
+the rust of the mind, will never have a chance of being rubbed off by
+sensible conversation, or new-born affections of the heart.
+
+She will find that those affections that have once been called forth and
+strengthened by exercise, are only smothered, not killed, by
+disappointment; and that in one form or other discontent will corrode
+the heart, and produce those maladies of the imagination, for which
+there is no specific.
+
+The community at large Mary disliked; but pitied many of them whose
+private distresses she was informed of; and to pity and relieve were the
+same things with her.
+
+The exercise of her various virtues gave vigor to her genius, and
+dignity to her mind; she was sometimes inconsiderate, and violent; but
+never mean or cunning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XIV.
+
+
+The Portuguese are certainly the most uncivilized nation in Europe. Dr.
+Johnson would have said, "They have the least mind.". And can such serve
+their Creator in spirit and in truth? No, the gross ritual of Romish
+ceremonies is all they can comprehend: they can do penance, but not
+conquer their revenge, or lust. Religion, or love, has never humanized
+their hearts; they want the vital part; the mere body worships. Taste is
+unknown; Gothic finery, and unnatural decorations, which they term
+ornaments, are conspicuous in their churches and dress. Reverence for
+mental excellence is only to be found in a polished nation.
+
+Could the contemplation of such a people gratify Mary's heart? No: she
+turned disgusted from the prospects--turned to a man of refinement.
+Henry had been some time ill and low-spirited; Mary would have been
+attentive to any one in that situation; but to him she was particularly
+so; she thought herself bound in gratitude, on account of his constant
+endeavours to amuse Ann, and prevent her dwelling on the dreary prospect
+before her, which sometimes she could not help anticipating with a kind
+of quiet despair.
+
+She found some excuse for going more frequently into the room they all
+met in; nay, she avowed her desire to amuse him: offered to read to him,
+and tried to draw him into amusing conversations; and when she was full
+of these little schemes, she looked at him with a degree of tenderness
+that she was not conscious of. This divided attention was of use to her,
+and prevented her continually thinking of Ann, whose fluctuating
+disorder often gave rise to false hopes.
+
+A trifling thing occurred now which occasioned Mary some uneasiness. Her
+maid, a well-looking girl, had captivated the clerk of a neighbouring
+compting-house. As the match was an advantageous one, Mary could not
+raise any objection to it, though at this juncture it was very
+disagreeable to her to have a stranger about her person. However, the
+girl consented to delay the marriage, as she had some affection for her
+mistress; and, besides, looked forward to Ann's death as a time of
+harvest.
+
+Henry's illness was not alarming, it was rather pleasing, as it gave
+Mary an excuse to herself for shewing him how much she was interested
+about him; and giving little artless proofs of affection, which the
+purity of her heart made her never wish to restrain.
+
+The only visible return he made was not obvious to common observers. He
+would sometimes fix his eyes on her, and take them off with a sigh that
+was coughed away; or when he was leisurely walking into the room, and
+did not expect to see her, he would quicken his steps, and come up to
+her with eagerness to ask some trivial question. In the same style, he
+would try to detain her when he had nothing to say--or said nothing.
+
+Ann did not take notice of either his or Mary's behaviour, nor did she
+suspect that he was a favourite, on any other account than his
+appearing neither well nor happy. She had often seen that when a person
+was unfortunate, Mary's pity might easily be mistaken for love, and,
+indeed, it was a temporary sensation of that kind. Such it was--why it
+was so, let others define, I cannot argue against instincts. As reason
+is cultivated in man, they are supposed to grow weaker, and this may
+have given rise to the assertion, "That as judgment improves, genius
+evaporates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XV.
+
+
+One morning they set out to visit the aqueduct; though the day was very
+fine when they left home, a very heavy shower fell before they reached
+it; they lengthened their ride, the clouds dispersed, and the sun came
+from behind them uncommonly bright.
+
+Mary would fain have persuaded Ann not to have left the carriage; but
+she was in spirits, and obviated all her objections, and insisted on
+walking, tho' the ground was damp. But her strength was not equal to her
+spirits; she was soon obliged to return to the carriage so much
+fatigued, that she fainted, and remained insensible a long time.
+
+Henry would have supported her; but Mary would not permit him; her
+recollection was instantaneous, and she feared sitting on the damp
+ground might do him a material injury: she was on that account positive,
+though the company did not guess the cause of her being so. As to
+herself, she did not fear bodily pain; and, when her mind was agitated,
+she could endure the greatest fatigue without appearing sensible of it.
+
+When Ann recovered, they returned slowly home; she was carried to bed,
+and the next morning Mary thought she observed a visible change for the
+worse. The physician was sent for, who pronounced her to be in the most
+imminent danger.
+
+All Mary's former fears now returned like a torrent, and carried every
+other care away; she even added to her present anguish by upbraiding
+herself for her late tranquillity--it haunted her in the form of a
+crime.
+
+The disorder made the most rapid advances--there was no hope!--Bereft of
+it, Mary again was tranquil; but it was a very different kind of
+tranquillity. She stood to brave the approaching storm, conscious she
+only could be overwhelmed by it.
+
+She did not think of Henry, or if her thoughts glanced towards him, it
+was only to find fault with herself for suffering a thought to have
+strayed from Ann.--Ann!--this dear friend was soon torn from her--she
+died suddenly as Mary was assisting her to walk across the room.--The
+first string was severed from her heart--and this "slow, sudden-death"
+disturbed her reasoning faculties; she seemed stunned by it; unable to
+reflect, or even to feel her misery.
+
+The body was stolen out of the house the second night, and Mary refused
+to see her former companions. She desired her maid to conclude her
+marriage, and request her intended husband to inform her when the first
+merchantman was to leave the port, as the packet had just sailed, and
+she determined not to stay in that hated place any longer than was
+absolutely necessary.
+
+She then sent to request the ladies to visit her; she wished to avoid a
+parade of grief--her sorrows were her own, and appeared to her not to
+admit of increase or softening. She was right; the sight of them did not
+affect her, or turn the stream of her sullen sorrow; the black wave
+rolled along in the same course, it was equal to her where she cast her
+eyes; all was impenetrable gloom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XVI.
+
+
+Soon after the ladies left her, she received a message from Henry,
+requesting, as she saw company, to be permitted to visit her: she
+consented, and he entered immediately, with an unassured pace. She ran
+eagerly up to him--saw the tear trembling in his eye, and his
+countenance softened by the tenderest compassion; the hand which pressed
+hers seemed that of a fellow-creature. She burst into tears; and, unable
+to restrain them, she hid her face with both her hands; these tears
+relieved her, (she had before had a difficulty in breathing,) and she
+sat down by him more composed than she had appeared since Ann's death;
+but her conversation was incoherent.
+
+She called herself "a poor disconsolate creature!"--"Mine is a selfish
+grief," she exclaimed--"Yet; Heaven is my witness, I do not wish her
+back now she has reached those peaceful mansions, where the weary rest.
+Her pure spirit is happy; but what a wretch am I!"
+
+Henry forgot his cautious reserve. "Would you allow me to call you
+friend?" said he in a hesitating voice. "I feel, dear girl, the tendered
+interest in whatever concerns thee." His eyes spoke the rest. They were
+both silent a few moments; then Henry resumed the conversation. "I have
+also been acquainted with grief! I mourn the loss of a woman who was not
+worthy of my regard. Let me give thee some account of the man who now
+solicits thy friendship; and who, from motives of the purest
+benevolence, wishes to give comfort to thy wounded heart."
+
+"I have myself," said he, mournfully, "shaken hands with happiness, and
+am dead to the world; I wait patiently for my dissolution; but, for
+thee, Mary, there may be many bright days in store."
+
+"Impossible," replied she, in a peevish tone, as if he had insulted her
+by the supposition; her feelings were so much in unison with his, that
+she was in love with misery.
+
+He smiled at her impatience, and went on. "My father died before I knew
+him, and my mother was so attached to my eldest brother, that she took
+very little pains to fit me for the profession to which I was destined:
+and, may I tell thee, I left my family, and, in many different stations,
+rambled about the world; saw mankind in every rank of life; and, in
+order to be independent, exerted those talents Nature has given me:
+these exertions improved my understanding; and the miseries I was
+witness to, gave a keener edge to my sensibility. My constitution is
+naturally weak; and, perhaps, two or three lingering disorders in my
+youth, first gave me a habit of reflecting, and enabled me to obtain
+some dominion over my passions. At least," added he, stifling a sigh,
+"over the violent ones, though I fear, refinement and reflection only
+renders the tender ones more tyrannic.
+
+"I have told you already I have been in love, and disappointed--the
+object is now no more; let her faults sleep with her! Yet this passion
+has pervaded my whole soul, and mixed itself with all my affections and
+pursuits.--I am not peacefully indifferent; yet it is only to my violin
+I tell the sorrows I now confide with thee. The object I loved forfeited
+my esteem; yet, true to the sentiment, my fancy has too frequently
+delighted to form a creature that I could love, that could convey to my
+soul sensations which the gross part of mankind have not any conception
+of."
+
+He stopped, as Mary seemed lost in thought; but as she was still in a
+listening attitude, continued his little narrative. "I kept up an
+irregular correspondence with my mother; my brother's extravagance and
+ingratitude had almost broken her heart, and made her feel something
+like a pang of remorse, on account of her behaviour to me. I hastened to
+comfort her--and was a comfort to her.
+
+"My declining health prevented my taking orders, as I had intended; but
+I with warmth entered into literary pursuits; perhaps my heart, not
+having an object, made me embrace the substitute with more eagerness.
+But, do not imagine I have always been a die-away swain. No: I have
+frequented the cheerful haunts of men, and wit!--enchanting wit! has
+made many moments fly free from care. I am too fond of the elegant arts;
+and woman--lovely woman! thou hast charmed me, though, perhaps, it would
+not be easy to find one to whom my reason would allow me to be constant.
+
+"I have now only to tell you, that my mother insisted on my spending
+this winter in a warmer climate; and I fixed on Lisbon, as I had before
+visited the Continent." He then looked Mary full in the face; and, with
+the most insinuating accents, asked "if he might hope for her
+friendship? If she would rely on him as if he was her father; and that
+the tenderest father could not more anxiously interest himself in the
+fate of a darling child, than he did in her's."
+
+Such a crowd of thoughts all at once rushed into Mary's mind, that she
+in vain attempted to express the sentiments which were most predominant.
+Her heart longed to receive a new guest; there was a void in it:
+accustomed to have some one to love, she was alone, and comfortless, if
+not engrossed by a particular affection.
+
+Henry saw her distress, and not to increase it, left the room. He had
+exerted himself to turn her thoughts into a new channel, and had
+succeeded; she thought of him till she began to chide herself for
+defrauding the dead, and, determining to grieve for Ann, she dwelt on
+Henry's misfortunes and ill health; and the interest he took in her fate
+was a balm to her sick mind. She did not reason on the subject; but she
+felt he was attached to her: lost in this delirium, she never asked
+herself what kind of an affection she had for him, or what it tended to;
+nor did she know that love and friendship are very distinct; she thought
+with rapture, that there was one person in the world who had an
+affection for her, and that person she admired--had a friendship for.
+
+He had called her his dear girl; the words might have fallen from him by
+accident; but they did not fall to the ground. My child! His child,
+what an association of ideas! If I had had a father, such a father!--She
+could not dwell on the thoughts, the wishes which obtruded themselves.
+Her mind was unhinged, and passion unperceived filled her whole soul.
+Lost, in waking dreams, she considered and reconsidered Henry's account
+of himself; till she actually thought she would tell Ann--a bitter
+recollection then roused her out of her reverie; and aloud she begged
+forgiveness of her.
+
+By these kind of conflicts the day was lengthened; and when she went to
+bed, the night passed away in feverish slumbers; though they did not
+refresh her, she was spared the labour of thinking, of restraining her
+imagination; it sported uncontrouled; but took its colour from her
+waking train of thoughts. One instant she was supporting her dying
+mother; then Ann was breathing her last, and Henry was comforting her.
+
+The unwelcome light visited her languid eyes; yet, I must tell the
+truth, she thought she should see Henry, and this hope set her spirits
+in motion: but they were quickly depressed by her maid, who came to tell
+her that she had heard of a vessel on board of which she could be
+accommodated, and that there was to be another female passenger on
+board, a vulgar one; but perhaps she would be more useful on that
+account--Mary did not want a companion.
+
+As she had given orders for her passage to be engaged in the first
+vessel that sailed, she could not now retract; and must prepare for the
+lonely voyage, as the Captain intended taking advantage of the first
+fair wind. She had too much strength of mind to waver in her
+determination but to determine wrung her very heart, opened all her old
+wounds, and made them bleed afresh. What was she to do? where go? Could
+she set a seal to a hasty vow, and tell a deliberate lie; promise to
+love one man, when the image of another was ever present to her--her
+soul revolted. "I might gain the applause of the world by such mock
+heroism; but should I not forfeit my own? forfeit thine, my father!"
+
+There is a solemnity in the shortest ejaculation, which, for a while,
+stills the tumult of passion. Mary's mind had been thrown off its poise;
+her devotion had been, perhaps, more fervent for some time past; but
+less regular. She forgot that happiness was not to be found on earth,
+and built a terrestrial paradise liable to be destroyed by the first
+serious thought: when, she reasoned she became inexpressibly sad, to
+render life bearable she gave way to fancy--this was madness.
+
+In a few days she must again go to sea; the weather was very
+tempestuous--what of that, the tempest in her soul rendered every other
+trifling--it was not the contending elements, but _herself_ she feared!
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XVII.
+
+
+In order to gain strength to support the expected interview, she went
+out in a carriage. The day was fine; but all nature was to her a
+universal blank; she could neither enjoy it, nor weep that she could
+not. She passed by the ruins of an old monastery on a very high hill she
+got out to walk amongst the ruins; the wind blew violently, she did not
+avoid its fury, on the contrary, wildly bid it blow on, and seemed glad
+to contend with it, or rather walk against it. Exhausted she returned to
+the carriage was soon at home, and in the old room.
+
+Henry started at the sight of her altered appearance; the day before her
+complexion had been of the most pallid hue; but now her cheeks were
+flushed, and her eyes enlivened with a false vivacity, an unusual fire.
+He was not well, his illness was apparent in his countenance, and he
+owned he had not closed his eyes all night; this roused her dormant
+tenderness, she forgot they were so soon to part-engrossed by the
+present happiness of seeing, of hearing him.
+
+Once or twice she essayed to tell him that she was, in a few days, to
+depart; but she could not; she was irresolute; it will do to-morrow;
+should the wind change they could not sail in such a hurry; thus she
+thought, and insensibly grew more calm. The Ladies prevailed on her to
+spend the evening with them; but she retired very early to rest, and sat
+on the side of her bed several hours, then threw herself on it, and
+waited for the dreaded to-morrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XVIII.
+
+
+The ladies heard that her servant was to be married that day, and that
+she was to sail in the vessel which was then clearing out at the
+Custom-house. Henry heard, but did not make any remarks; and Mary called
+up all her fortitude to support her, and enable her to hide from the
+females her internal struggles. She durst not encounter Henry's glances
+when she found he had been informed of her intention; and, trying to
+draw a veil over her wretched state of mind, she talked incessantly, she
+knew not what; flashes of wit burst from her, and when she began to
+laugh she could not stop herself.
+
+Henry smiled at some of her sallies, and looked at her with such
+benignity and compassion, that he recalled her scattered thoughts; and,
+the ladies going to dress for dinner, they were left alone; and remained
+silent a few moments: after the noisy conversation it appeared solemn.
+Henry began. "You are going, Mary, and going by yourself; your mind is
+not in a state to be left to its own operations--yet I cannot, dissuade
+you; if I attempted to do it, I should ill deserve the title I wish to
+merit. I only think of your happiness; could I obey the strongest
+impulse of my heart, I should accompany thee to England; but such a step
+might endanger your future peace."
+
+Mary, then, with all the frankness which marked her character, explained
+her situation to him and mentioned her fatal tie with such disgust that
+he trembled for her. "I cannot see him; he is not the man formed for me
+to love!" Her delicacy did not restrain her, for her dislike to her
+husband had taken root in her mind long before she knew Henry. Did she
+not fix on Lisbon rather than France on purpose to avoid him? and if Ann
+had been in tolerable health she would have flown with her to some
+remote corner to have escaped from him.
+
+"I intend," said Henry, "to follow you in the next packet; where shall I
+hear of your health?" "Oh! let me hear of thine," replied Mary. "I am
+well, very well; but thou art very ill--thy health is in the most
+precarious state." She then mentioned her intention of going to Ann's
+relations. "I am her representative, I have duties to fulfil for her:
+during my voyage I have time enough for reflection; though I think I
+have already determined."
+
+"Be not too hasty, my child," interrupted Henry; "far be it from me to
+persuade thee to do violence to thy feelings--but consider that all thy
+future life may probably take its colour from thy present mode of
+conduct. Our affections as well as our sentiments are fluctuating; you
+will not perhaps always either think or feel as you do at present: the
+object you now shun may appear in a different light." He paused. "In
+advising thee in this style, I have only thy good at heart, Mary."
+
+She only answered to expostulate. "My affections are involuntary--yet
+they can only be fixed by reflection, and when they are they make quite
+a part of my soul, are interwoven in it, animate my actions, and form
+my taste: certain qualities are calculated to call forth my sympathies,
+and make me all I am capable of being. The governing affection gives its
+stamp to the rest--because I am capable of loving one, I have that kind
+of charity to all my fellow-creatures which is not easily provoked.
+Milton has asserted, That earthly love is the scale by which to heavenly
+we may ascend."
+
+She went on with eagerness. "My opinions on some subjects are not
+wavering; my pursuit through life has ever been the same: in solitude
+were my sentiments formed; they are indelible, and nothing can efface
+them but death--No, death itself cannot efface them, or my soul must be
+created afresh, and not improved. Yet a little while am I parted from
+my Ann--I could not exist without the hope of seeing her again--I could
+not bear to think that time could wear away an affection that was
+founded on what is not liable to perish; you might as well attempt to
+persuade me that my soul is matter, and that its feelings arose from
+certain modifications of it."
+
+"Dear enthusiastic creature," whispered Henry, "how you steal into my
+soul." She still continued. "The same turn of mind which leads me to
+adore the Author of all Perfection--which leads me to conclude that he
+only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image-the shadows
+of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder
+strokes to them. I knew I am in some degree under the influence of a
+delusion--but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself 'am _of
+subtiler essence than the trodden clod_' these flights of the
+imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them. Every cause in
+nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule?
+have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they
+never be gratified? shall I never be happy? My feelings do not accord
+with the notion of solitary happiness. In a state of bliss, it will be
+the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly
+infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great
+part of our happiness.
+
+"With these notions can I conform to the maxims of worldly wisdom? can
+I listen to the cold dictates of worldly prudence and bid my tumultuous
+passions cease to vex me, be still, find content in grovelling pursuits,
+and the admiration of the misjudging crowd, when it is only one I wish
+to please--one who could be all the world to me. Argue not with me, I am
+bound by human ties; but did my spirit ever promise to love, or could I
+consider when forced to bind myself--to take a vow, that at the awful
+day of judgment I must give an account of. My conscience does not smite
+me, and that Being who is greater than the internal monitor, may approve
+of what the world condemns; sensible that in Him I live, could I brave
+His presence, or hope in solitude to find peace, if I acted contrary to
+conviction, that the world might approve of my conduct--what could the
+world give to compensate for my own esteem? it is ever hostile and armed
+against the feeling heart!
+
+"Riches and honours await me, and the cold moralist might desire me to
+sit down and enjoy them--I cannot conquer my feelings, and till I do,
+what are these baubles to me? you may tell me I follow a fleeting good,
+an _ignis fatuus_; but this chase, these struggles prepare me for
+eternity--when I no longer see through a glass darkly I shall not reason
+about, but _feel_ in what happiness consists."
+
+Henry had not attempted to interrupt her; he saw she was determined, and
+that these sentiments were not the effusion of the moment, but well
+digested ones, the result of strong affections, a high sense of honour,
+and respect for the source of all virtue and truth. He was startled, if
+not entirely convinced by her arguments; indeed her voice, her gestures
+were all persuasive.
+
+Some one now entered the room; he looked an answer to her long harangue;
+it was fortunate for him, or he might have been led to say what in a
+cooler moment he had determined to conceal; but were words necessary to
+reveal it? He wished not to influence her conduct--vain precaution; she
+knew she was beloved; and could she forget that such a man loved her, or
+rest satisfied with any inferior gratification. When passion first
+enters the heart, it is only a return of affection that is sought after,
+and every other remembrance and wish is blotted out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XIX.
+
+
+Two days passed away without any particular conversation; Henry, trying
+to be indifferent, or to appear so, was more assiduous than ever. The
+conflict was too violent for his present state of health; the spirit was
+willing, but the body suffered; he lost his appetite, and looked
+wretchedly; his spirits were calmly low--the world seemed to fade
+away--what was that world to him that Mary did not inhabit; she lived
+not for him.
+
+He was mistaken; his affection was her only support; without this dear
+prop she had sunk into the grave of her lost--long-loved friend;--his
+attention snatched her from despair. Inscrutable are the ways of
+Heaven!
+
+The third day Mary was desired to prepare herself; for if the wind
+continued in the same point, they should set sail the next evening. She
+tried to prepare her mind, and her efforts were not useless she appeared
+less agitated than could have been expected, and talked of her voyage
+with composure. On great occasions she was generally calm and collected,
+her resolution would brace her unstrung nerves; but after the victory
+she had no triumph; she would sink into a state of moping melancholy,
+and feel ten-fold misery when the heroic enthusiasm was over.
+
+The morning of the day fixed on for her departure she was alone with
+Henry only a few moments, and an awkward kind of formality made them
+slip away without their having said much to each other. Henry was
+afraid to discover his passion, or give any other name to his regard but
+friendship; yet his anxious solicitude for her welfare was ever breaking
+out-while she as artlessly expressed again and again, her fears with
+respect to his declining health.
+
+"We shall soon meet," said he, with a faint smile; Mary smiled too; she
+caught the sickly beam; it was still fainter by being reflected, and not
+knowing what she wished to do, started up and left the room. When she
+was alone she regretted she had left him so precipitately. "The few
+precious moments I have thus thrown away may never return," she
+thought-the reflection led to misery.
+
+She waited for, nay, almost wished for the summons to depart. She could
+not avoid spending the intermediate time with the ladies and Henry; and
+the trivial conversations she was obliged to bear a part in harassed her
+more than can be well conceived.
+
+The summons came, and the whole party attended her to the vessel. For a
+while the remembrance of Ann banished her regret at parting with Henry,
+though his pale figure pressed on her sight; it may seem a paradox, but
+he was more present to her when she sailed; her tears then were all his
+own.
+
+"My poor Ann!" thought Mary, "along this road we came, and near this
+spot you called me your guardian angel--and now I leave thee here! ah!
+no, I do not--thy spirit is not confined to its mouldering tenement!
+Tell me, thou soul of her I love, tell me, ah! whither art thou fled?"
+Ann occupied her until they reached the ship.
+
+The anchor was weighed. Nothing can be more irksome than waiting to say
+farewel. As the day was serene, they accompanied her a little way, and
+then got into the boat; Henry was the last; he pressed her hand, it had
+not any life in it; she leaned over the side of the ship without looking
+at the boat, till it was so far distant, that she could not see the
+countenances of those that were in it: a mist spread itself over her
+sight--she longed to exchange one look--tried to recollect the
+last;--the universe contained no being but Henry!--The grief of parting
+with him had swept all others clean away. Her eyes followed the keel of
+the boat, and when she could no longer perceive its traces: she looked
+round on the wide waste of waters, thought of the precious moments
+which had been stolen from the waste of murdered time.
+
+She then descended into the cabin, regardless of the surrounding
+beauties of nature, and throwing herself on her bed in the little hole
+which was called the state-room--she wished to forget her existence. On
+this bed she remained two days, listening to the dashing waves, unable
+to close her eyes. A small taper made the darkness visible; and the
+third night, by its glimmering light, she wrote the following fragment.
+
+"Poor solitary wretch that I am; here alone do I listen to the whistling
+winds and dashing waves;--on no human support can I rest--when not lost
+to hope I found pleasure in the society of those rough beings; but now
+they appear not like my fellow creatures; no social ties draw me to
+them. How long, how dreary has this day been; yet I scarcely wish it
+over--for what will to-morrow bring--to-morrow, and to-morrow will only
+be marked with unvaried characters of wretchedness.--Yet surely, I am
+not alone!"
+
+Her moistened eyes were lifted up to heaven; a crowd of thoughts darted
+into her mind, and pressing her hand against her forehead, as if to bear
+the intellectual weight, she tried, but tried in vain, to arrange them.
+"Father of Mercies, compose this troubled spirit: do I indeed wish it to
+be composed--to forget my Henry?" the _my_, the pen was directly drawn
+across in an agony.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XX.
+
+
+The mate of the ship, who heard her stir, came to offer her some
+refreshment; and she, who formerly received every offer of kindness or
+civility with pleasure, now shrunk away disgusted: peevishly she desired
+him not to disturb her; but the words were hardly articulated when her
+heart smote her, she called him back, and requested something to drink.
+After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she fell into a
+death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on
+the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.
+
+The wind still continued contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she
+struggled with her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever,
+which sometimes gave her false spirits.
+
+The winds then became very tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and
+all the passengers appalled. Mary then left her bed, and went on deck,
+to survey the contending elements: the scene accorded with the present
+state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I may go home; the
+prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and descended into a
+yawning gulph--Not slower did her mounting soul return to earth,
+for--Ah! her treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled
+amongst the sails, which were quickly taken down; the wind would then
+die away, and the wild undirected waves rushed on every side with a
+tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the midst of such a storm she
+was not dismayed; she felt herself independent.
+
+Just then one of the crew perceived a signal of distress; by the help of
+a glass he could plainly discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted
+about, for the rudder had been broken by the violence of the storm.
+Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by the crew on the brink of
+destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached it, and hailed
+the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting, loud
+cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and
+with ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched
+their boat in a moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the
+sea. Stowed between two casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the
+boat, and when a wave intercepted it from her view--she ceased to
+breathe, or rather held her breath until it rose again.
+
+At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the
+poor trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in
+thanking that gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still
+the raging of the sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.
+
+Amongst the wretched crew was one poor woman, who fainted when she was
+hauled on board: Mary undressed her, and when she had recovered, and
+soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she required to recruit her
+strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned again to view the
+angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she thought of
+the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise of
+the sea; and the madness of the people--He only could speak peace to
+her troubled spirit! she grew more calm; the late transaction had
+gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of herself.
+
+One of the sailors, happening to say to another, "that he believed the
+world was going to be at an end;" this observation led her into a new
+train of thoughts: some of Handel's sublime compositions occurred to
+her, and she sung them to the grand accompaniment. The Lord God
+Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and ever!--Why then did
+she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew that He would
+bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of great
+tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
+was now her only confident. It was after midnight.
+
+"At this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the
+day of retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed;
+when all worldly distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I
+have not words to express the sublime images which the bare
+contemplation of this awful day raises in my mind. Then, indeed, the
+Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the tearful eye, and
+support the trembling heart--yet a little while He hideth his face, and
+the dun shades of sorrow, and the thick clouds of folly separate us from
+our God; but when the glad dawn of an eternal day breaks, we shall know
+even as we are known. Here we walk by faith, and not by sight; and we
+have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures of life which are
+but for a season, or look forward to the prize of our high calling, and
+with fortitude, and that wisdom which is from above, endeavour to bear
+the warfare of life. We know that many run the race; but he that
+striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one! How
+many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
+garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever
+lead into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing
+like happiness is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to
+pluck the fruit of immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
+guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will
+again be opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, farewel! and yet I
+cannot banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and
+live in futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.--I try
+to pierce the gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of
+knowledge will be gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to
+fix them. Every thing material must change; happiness and this
+fluctating principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality, and
+happiness,--what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
+conceptions ye create?"
+
+After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the
+Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXI.
+
+
+Mary rose early, refreshed by the seasonable rest, and went to visit the
+poor woman, whom she found quite recovered: and, on enquiry, heard that
+she had lately buried her husband, a common sailor; and that her only
+surviving child had been washed over-board the day before. Full of her
+own danger, she scarcely thought of her child till that was over; and
+then she gave way to boisterous emotions.
+
+Mary endeavoured to calm her at first, by sympathizing with her; and she
+tried to point out the only solid source of comfort but in doing this
+she encountered many difficulties; she found her grossly ignorant, yet
+she did not despair: and as the poor creature could not receive comfort
+from the operations of her own mind, she laboured to beguile the hours,
+which grief made heavy, by adapting her conversation to her capacity.
+
+There are many minds that only receive impressions through the medium of
+the senses: to them did Mary address herself; she made her some
+presents, and promised to assist her when they should arrive in England.
+This employment roused her out of her late stupor, and again set the
+faculties of her soul in motion; made the understanding contend with the
+imagination, and the heart throbbed not so irregularly during the
+contention. How short-lived was the calm! when the English coast was
+descried, her sorrows returned with redoubled vigor.--She was to visit
+and comfort the mother of her lost friend--And where then should she
+take up her residence? These thoughts suspended the exertions of her
+understanding; abstracted reflections gave way to alarming
+apprehensions; and tenderness undermined fortitude.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXII.
+
+
+In England then landed the forlorn wanderer. She looked round for some
+few moments--her affections were not attracted to any particular part of
+the Island. She knew none of the inhabitants of the vast city to which
+she was going: the mass of buildings appeared to her a huge body without
+an informing soul. As she passed through the streets in an
+hackney-coach, disgust and horror alternately filled her mind. She met
+some women drunk; and the manners of those who attacked the sailors,
+made her shrink into herself, and exclaim, are these my fellow
+creatures!
+
+Detained by a number of carts near the water-side, for she came up the
+river in the vessel, not having reason to hasten on shore, she saw
+vulgarity, dirt, and vice--her soul sickened; this was the first time
+such complicated misery obtruded itself on her sight.--Forgetting her
+own griefs, she gave the world a much indebted tear; mourned for a world
+in ruins. She then perceived, that great part of her comfort must arise
+from viewing the smiling face of nature, and be reflected from the view
+of innocent enjoyments: she was fond of seeing animals play, and could
+not bear to see her own species sink below them.
+
+In a little dwelling in one of the villages near London, lived the
+mother of Ann; two of her children still remained with her; but they did
+not resemble Ann. To her house Mary directed the coach, and told the
+unfortunate mother of her loss. The poor woman, oppressed by it, and her
+many other cares, after an inundation of tears, began to enumerate all
+her past misfortunes, and present cares. The heavy tale lasted until
+midnight, and the impression it made on Mary's mind was so strong, that
+it banished sleep till towards morning; when tired nature sought
+forgetfulness, and the soul ceased to ruminate about many things.
+
+She sent for the poor woman they took up at sea, provided her a lodging,
+and relieved her present necessities. A few days were spent in a kind of
+listless way; then the mother of Ann began to enquire when she thought
+of returning home. She had hitherto treated her with the greatest
+respect, and concealed her wonder at Mary's choosing a remote room in
+the house near the garden, and ordering some alterations to be made, as
+if she intended living in it.
+
+Mary did not choose to explain herself; had Ann lived, it is probable
+she would never have loved Henry so fondly; but if she had, she could
+not have talked of her passion to any human creature. She deliberated,
+and at last informed the family, that she had a reason for not living
+with her husband, which must some time remain a secret--they stared--Not
+live with him! how will you live then? This was a question she could not
+answer; she had only about eighty pounds remaining, of the money she
+took with her to Lisbon; when it was exhausted where could she get more?
+I will work, she cried, do any thing rather than be a slave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXIII.
+
+
+Unhappy, she wandered about the village, and relieved the poor; it was
+the only employment that eased her aching heart; she became more
+intimate with misery--the misery that rises from poverty and the want of
+education. She was in the vicinity of a great city; the vicious poor in
+and about it must ever grieve a benevolent contemplative mind.
+
+One evening a man who stood weeping in a little lane, near the house she
+resided in, caught her eye. She accosted him; in a confused manner, he
+informed her, that his wife was dying, and his children crying for the
+bread he could not earn. Mary desired to be conducted to his
+habitation; it was not very distant, and was the upper room in an old
+mansion-house, which had been once the abode of luxury. Some tattered
+shreds of rich hangings still remained, covered with cobwebs and filth;
+round the ceiling, through which the rain drop'd, was a beautiful
+cornice mouldering; and a spacious gallery was rendered dark by the
+broken windows being blocked up; through the apertures the wind forced
+its way in hollow sounds, and reverberated along the former scene of
+festivity.
+
+It was crowded with inhabitants: som were scolding, others swearing, or
+singing indecent songs. What a sight for Mary! Her blood ran cold; yet
+she had sufficient resolution to mount to the top of the house. On the
+floor, in one corner of a very small room, lay an emaciated figure of a
+woman; a window over her head scarcely admitted any light, for the
+broken panes were stuffed with dirty rags. Near her were five children,
+all young, and covered with dirt; their sallow cheeks, and languid eyes,
+exhibited none of the charms of childhood. Some were fighting, and
+others crying for food; their yells were mixed with their mother's
+groans, and the wind which rushed through the passage. Mary was
+petrified; but soon assuming more courage, approached the bed, and,
+regardless of the surrounding nastiness, knelt down by the poor wretch,
+and breathed the most poisonous air; for the unfortunate creature was
+dying of a putrid fever, the consequence of dirt and want.
+
+Their state did not require much explanation. Mary sent the husband for
+a poor neighbour, whom she hired to nurse the woman, and take care of
+the children; and then went herself to buy them some necessaries at a
+shop not far distant. Her knowledge of physic had enabled her to
+prescribe for the woman; and she left the house, with a mixture of
+horror and satisfaction.
+
+She visited them every day, and procured them every comfort; contrary to
+her expectation, the woman began to recover; cleanliness and wholesome
+food had a wonderful effect; and Mary saw her rising as it were from the
+grave. Not aware of the danger she ran into, she did not think of it
+till she perceived she had caught the fever. It made such an alarming
+progress, that she was prevailed on to send for a physician; but the
+disorder was so violent, that for some days it baffled his skill; and
+Mary felt not her danger, as she was delirious. After the crisis, the
+symptoms were more favourable, and she slowly recovered, without
+regaining much strength or spirits; indeed they were intolerably low:
+she wanted a tender nurse.
+
+For some time she had observed, that she was not treated with the same
+respect as formerly; her favors were forgotten when no more were
+expected. This ingratitude hurt her, as did a similar instance in the
+woman who came out of the ship. Mary had hitherto supported her; as her
+finances were growing low, she hinted to her, that she ought to try to
+earn her own subsistence: the woman in return loaded her with abuse.
+
+Two months were elapsed; she had not seen, or heard from Henry. He was
+sick--nay, perhaps had forgotten her; all the world was dreary, and all
+the people ungrateful.
+
+She sunk into apathy, and endeavouring to rouse herself out of it, she
+wrote in her book another fragment:
+
+"Surely life is a dream, a frightful one! and after those rude,
+disjointed images are fled, will light ever break in? Shall I ever feel
+joy? Do all suffer like me; or am I framed so as to be particularly
+susceptible of misery? It is true, I have experienced the most rapturous
+emotions--short-lived delight!--ethereal beam, which only serves to shew
+my present misery--yet lie still, my throbbing heart, or burst; and my
+brain--why dost thou whirl about at such a terrifying rate? why do
+thoughts so rapidly rush into my mind, and yet when they disappear
+leave such deep traces? I could almost wish for the madman's happiness,
+and in a strong imagination lose a sense of woe.
+
+"Oh! reason, thou boasted guide, why desert me, like the world, when I
+most need thy assistance! Canst thou not calm this internal tumult, and
+drive away the death-like sadness which presses so sorely on me,--a
+sadness surely very nearly allied to despair. I am now the prey of
+apathy--I could wish for the former storms! a ray of hope sometimes
+illumined my path; I had a pursuit; but now _it visits not my haunts
+forlorn_. Too well have I loved my fellow creatures! I have been wounded
+by ingratitude; from every one it has something of the serpent's tooth.
+
+"When overwhelmed by sorrow, I have met unkindness; I looked for some
+one to have pity on me; but found none!--The healing balm of sympathy is
+denied; I weep, a solitary wretch, and the hot tears scald my cheeks. I
+have not the medicine of life, the dear chimera I have so often chased,
+a friend. Shade of my loved Ann! dost thou ever visit thy poor Mary?
+Refined spirit, thou wouldst weep, could angels weep, to see her
+struggling with passions she cannot subdue; and feelings which corrode
+her small portion of comfort!"
+
+She could not write any more; she wished herself far distant from all
+human society; a thick gloom spread itself over her mind: but did not
+make her forget the very beings she wished to fly from. She sent for the
+poor woman she found in the garret; gave her money to clothe herself
+and children, and buy some furniture for a little hut, in a large
+garden, the master of which agreed to employ her husband, who had been
+bred a gardener. Mary promised to visit the family, and see their new
+abode when she was able to go out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXIV.
+
+
+Mary still continued weak and low, though it was spring, and all nature
+began to look gay; with more than usual brightness the sun shone, and a
+little robin which she had cherished during the winter sung one of his
+best songs. The family were particularly civil this fine morning, and
+tried to prevail on her to walk out. Any thing like kindness melted her;
+she consented.
+
+Softer emotions banished her melancholy, and she directed her steps to
+the habitation she had rendered comfortable.
+
+Emerging out of a dreary chamber, all nature looked cheerful; when she
+had last walked out, snow covered the ground, and bleak winds pierced
+her through and through: now the hedges were green, the blossoms adorned
+the trees, and the birds sung. She reached the dwelling, without being
+much exhausted and while she rested there, observed the children
+sporting on the grass, with improved complexions. The mother with tears
+thanked her deliverer, and pointed out her comforts. Mary's tears flowed
+not only from sympathy, but a complication of feelings and recollections
+the affections which bound her to her fellow creatures began again to
+play, and reanimated nature. She observed the change in herself, tried
+to account for it, and wrote with her pencil a rhapsody on sensibility.
+
+"Sensibility is the most exquisite feeling of which the human soul is
+susceptible: when it pervades us, we feel happy; and could it last
+unmixed, we might form some conjecture of the bliss of those
+paradisiacal days, when the obedient passions were under the dominion of
+reason, and the impulses of the heart did not need correction.
+
+"It is this quickness, this delicacy of feeling, which enables us to
+relish the sublime touches of the poet, and the painter; it is this,
+which expands the soul, gives an enthusiastic greatness, mixed with
+tenderness, when we view the magnificent objects of nature; or hear of a
+good action. The same effect we experience in the spring, when we hail
+the returning sun, and the consequent renovation of nature; when the
+flowers unfold themselves, and exhale their sweets, and the voice of
+music is heard in the land. Softened by tenderness; the soul is
+disposed to be virtuous. Is any sensual gratification to be compared to
+that of feelings the eves moistened after having comforted the
+unfortunate?
+
+"Sensibility is indeed the foundation of all our happiness; but these
+raptures are unknown to the depraved sensualist, who is only moved by
+what strikes his gross senses; the delicate embellishments of nature
+escape his notice; as do the gentle and interesting affections.--But it
+is only to be felt; it escapes discussion."
+
+She then returned home, and partook of the family meal, which was
+rendered more cheerful by the presence of a man, past the meridian of
+life, of polished manners, and dazzling wit. He endeavoured to draw Mary
+out, and succeeded; she entered into conversation, and some of her
+artless flights of genius struck him with surprise; he found she had a
+capacious mind, and that her reason was as profound as her imagination
+was lively. She glanced from earth to heaven, and caught the light of
+truth. Her expressive countenance shewed what passed in her mind, and
+her tongue was ever the faithful interpreter of her heart; duplicity
+never threw a shade over her words or actions. Mary found him a man of
+learning; and the exercise of her understanding would frequently make
+her forget her griefs, when nothing else could, except benevolence.
+
+This man had known the mistress of the house in her youth; good nature
+induced him to visit her; but when he saw Mary he had another
+inducement. Her appearance, and above all, her genius, and cultivation
+of mind, roused his curiosity; but her dignified manners had such an
+effect on him, he was obliged to suppress it. He knew men, as well as
+books; his conversation was entertaining and improving. In Mary's
+company he doubted whether heaven was peopled with spirits masculine;
+and almost forgot that he had called the sex "the pretty play things
+that render life tolerable."
+
+He had been the slave of beauty, the captive of sense; love he ne'er had
+felt; the mind never rivetted the chain, nor had the purity of it made
+the body appear lovely in his eyes. He was humane, despised meanness;
+but was vain of his abilities, and by no means a useful member of
+society. He talked often of the beauty of virtue; but not having any
+solid foundation to build the practice on, he was only a shining, or
+rather a sparkling character: and though his fortune enabled him to
+hunt down pleasure, he was discontented.
+
+Mary observed his character, and wrote down a train of reflections,
+which these observations led her to make; these reflections received a
+tinge from her mind; the present state of it, was that kind of painful
+quietness which arises from reason clouded by disgust; she had not yet
+learned to be resigned; vague hopes agitated her.
+
+"There are some subjects that are so enveloped in clouds, as you
+dissipate one, another overspreads it. Of this kind are our reasonings
+concerning happiness; till we are obliged to cry out with the Apostle,
+_That it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive in what it
+could consist_, or how satiety could be prevented. Man seems formed for
+action, though the passions are seldom properly managed; they are
+either so languid as not to serve as a spur, or else so violent, as to
+overleap all bounds.
+
+"Every individual has its own peculiar trials; and anguish, in one shape
+or other, visits every heart. Sensibility produces flights of virtue;
+and not curbed by reason, is on the brink of vice talking, and even
+thinking of virtue.
+
+"Christianity can only afford just principles to govern the wayward
+feelings and impulses of the heart: every good disposition runs wild, if
+not transplanted into this soil; but how hard is it to keep the heart
+diligently, though convinced that the issues of life depend on it.
+
+"It is very difficult to discipline the mind of a thinker, or reconcile
+him to the weakness, the inconsistency of his understanding; and a
+still more laborious task for him to conquer his passions, and learn to
+seek content, instead of happiness. Good dispositions, and virtuous
+propensities, without the light of the Gospel, produce eccentric
+characters: comet-like, they are always in extremes; while revelation
+resembles the laws of attraction, and produces uniformity; but too often
+is the attraction feeble; and the light so obscured by passion, as to
+force the bewildered soul to fly into void space, and wander in
+confusion."
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXV.
+
+
+A few mornings after, as Mary was sitting ruminating, harassed by
+perplexing thoughts, and fears, a letter was delivered to her: the
+servant waited for an answer. Her heart palpitated; it was from Henry;
+she held it some time in her hand, then tore it open; it was not a long
+one; and only contained an account of a relapse, which prevented his
+sailing in the first packet, as he had intended. Some tender enquiries
+were added, concerning her health, and state of mind; but they were
+expressed in rather a formal style: it vexed her, and the more so, as it
+stopped the current of affection, which the account of his arrival and
+illness had made flow to her heart--it ceased to beat for a moment--she
+read the passage over again; but could not tell what she was hurt
+by--only that it did not answer the expectations of her affection. She
+wrote a laconic, incoherent note in return, allowing him to call on her
+the next day--he had requested permission at the conclusion of his
+letter.
+
+Her mind was then painfully active; she could not read or walk; she
+tried to fly from herself, to forget the long hours that were yet to run
+before to-morrow could arrive: she knew not what time he would come;
+certainly in the morning, she concluded; the morning then was anxiously
+wished for; and every wish produced a sigh, that arose from expectation
+on the stretch, damped by fear and vain regret.
+
+To beguile the tedious time, Henry's favorite tunes were sung; the books
+they read together turned over; and the short epistle read at least a
+hundred times.--Any one who had seen her, would have supposed that she
+was trying to decypher Chinese characters.
+
+After a sleepless night, she hailed the tardy day, watched the rising
+sun, and then listened for every footstep, and started if she heard the
+street door opened. At last he came, and she who had been counting the
+hours, and doubting whether the earth moved, would gladly have escaped
+the approaching interview.
+
+With an unequal, irresolute pace, she went to meet him; but when she
+beheld his emaciated countenance, all the tenderness, which the
+formality of his letter had damped, returned, and a mournful
+presentiment stilled the internal conflict. She caught his hand, and
+looking wistfully at him, exclaimed, "Indeed, you are not well!"
+
+"I am very far from well; but it matters not," added he with a smile of
+resignation; "my native air may work wonders, and besides, my mother is
+a tender nurse, and I shall sometimes see thee."
+
+Mary felt for the first time in her life, envy; she wished
+involuntarily, that all the comfort he received should be from her. She
+enquired about the symptoms of his disorder; and heard that he had been
+very ill; she hastily drove away the fears, that former dear bought
+experience suggested: and again and again did she repeat, that she was
+sure he would soon recover. She would then look in his face, to see if
+he assented, and ask more questions to the same purport. She tried to
+avoid speaking of herself, and Henry left her, with, a promise of
+visiting her the next day.
+
+Her mind was now engrossed by one fear--yet she would not allow herself
+to think that she feared an event she could not name. She still saw his
+pale face; the sound of his voice still vibrated on her ears; she tried
+to retain it; she listened, looked round, wept, and prayed.
+
+Henry had enlightened the desolate scene: was this charm of life to fade
+away, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck
+behind? These thoughts disturbed her reason, she shook her head, as if
+to drive them out of it; a weight, a heavy one, was on her heart; all
+was not well there.
+
+Out of this reverie she was soon woke to keener anguish, by the arrival
+of a letter from her husband; it came to Lisbon after her departure:
+Henry had forwarded it to her, but did not choose to deliver it
+himself, for a very obvious reason; it might have produced a
+conversation he wished for some time to avoid; and his precaution took
+its rise almost equally from benevolence and love.
+
+She could not muster up sufficient resolution to break the seal: her
+fears were not prophetic, for the contents gave her comfort. He informed
+her that he intended prolonging his tour, as he was now his own master,
+and wished to remain some time on the continent, and in particular to
+visit Italy without any restraint: but his reasons for it appeared
+childish; it was not to cultivate his taste, or tread on classic ground,
+where poets and philosophers caught their lore; but to join in the
+masquerades, and such burlesque amusements.
+
+These instances of folly relieved Mary, in some degree reconciled her
+to herself added fuel to the devouring flame--and silenced something
+like a pang, which reason and conscience made her feel, when she
+reflected, that it is the office of Religion to reconcile us to the
+seemingly hard dispensations of providence; and that no inclination,
+however strong, should oblige us to desert the post assigned us, or
+force us to forget that virtue should be an active principle; and that
+the most desirable station, is the one that exercises our faculties,
+refines our affections, and enables us to be useful.
+
+One reflection continually wounded her repose; she feared not poverty;
+her wants were few; but in giving up a fortune, she gave up the power of
+comforting the miserable, and making the sad heart sing for joy.
+
+Heaven had endowed her with uncommon humanity, to render her one of His
+benevolent agents, a messenger of peace; and should she attend to her
+own inclinations?
+
+These suggestions, though they could not subdue a violent passion,
+increased her misery. One moment she was a heroine, half determined to
+bear whatever fate should inflict; the next, her mind would recoil--and
+tenderness possessed her whole soul. Some instances of Henry's
+affection, his worth and genius, were remembered: and the earth was only
+a vale of tears, because he was not to sojourn with her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXVI.
+
+
+Henry came the next day, and once or twice in the course of the
+following week; but still Mary kept up some little formality, a certain
+consciousness restrained her; and Henry did not enter on the subject
+which he found she wished to avoid. In the course of conversation,
+however, she mentioned to him, that she earnestly desired to obtain a
+place in one of the public offices for Ann's brother, as the family were
+again in a declining way.
+
+Henry attended, made a few enquiries, and dropped the subject; but the
+following week, she heard him enter with unusual haste; it was to inform
+her, that he had made interest with a person of some consequence, whom
+he had once obliged in a very disagreeable exigency, in a foreign
+country; and that he had procured a place for her friend, which would
+infallibly lead to something better, if he behaved with propriety. Mary
+could not speak to thank him; emotions of gratitude and love suffused
+her face; her blood eloquently spoke. She delighted to receive benefits
+through the medium of her fellow creatures; but to receive them from
+Henry was exquisite pleasure.
+
+As the summer advanced, Henry grew worse; the closeness of the air, in
+the metropolis, affected his breath; and his mother insisted on his
+fixing on some place in the country, where she would accompany him. He
+could not think of going far off, but chose a little village on the
+banks of the Thames, near Mary's dwelling: he then introduced her to his
+mother.
+
+They frequently went down the river in a boat; Henry would take his
+violin, and Mary would sometimes sing, or read, to them. She pleased his
+mother; she inchanted him. It was an advantage to Mary that friendship
+first possessed her heart; it opened it to all the softer sentiments of
+humanity:--and when this first affection was torn away, a similar one
+sprung up, with a still tenderer sentiment added to it.
+
+The last evening they were on the water, the clouds grew suddenly black,
+and broke in violent showers, which interrupted the solemn stillness
+that had prevailed previous to it. The thunder roared; and the oars
+plying quickly, in order to reach the shore, occasioned a not
+unpleasing sound. Mary drew still nearer Henry; she wished to have
+sought with him a watry grave; to have escaped the horror of surviving
+him.--She spoke not, but Henry saw the workings of her mind--he felt
+them; threw his arm round her waist--and they enjoyed the luxury of
+wretchedness.--As they touched the shore, Mary perceived that Henry was
+wet; with eager anxiety she cried, What shall I do!--this day will kill
+thee, and I shall not die with thee!
+
+This accident put a stop to their pleasurable excursions; it had injured
+him, and brought on the spitting of blood he was subject to--perhaps it
+was not the cold that he caught, that occasioned it. In vain did Mary
+try to shut her eyes; her fate pursued her! Henry every day grew worse
+and worse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXVII.
+
+
+Oppressed by her foreboding fears, her sore mind was hurt by new
+instances of ingratitude: disgusted with the family, whose misfortunes
+had often disturbed her repose, and lost in anticipated sorrow, she
+rambled she knew not where; when turning down a shady walk, she
+discovered her feet had taken the path they delighted to tread. She saw
+Henry sitting in his garden alone; he quickly opened the garden-gate,
+and she sat down by him.
+
+"I did not," said he, "expect to see thee this evening, my dearest Mary;
+but I was thinking of thee. Heaven has endowed thee with an uncommon
+portion of fortitude, to support one of the most affectionate hearts in
+the world. This is not a time for disguise; I know I am dear to
+thee--and my affection for thee is twisted with every fibre of my
+heart.--I loved thee ever since I have been acquainted with thine: thou
+art the being my fancy has delighted to form; but which I imagined
+existed only there! In a little while the shades of death will encompass
+me--ill-fated love perhaps added strength to my disease, and smoothed
+the rugged path. Try, my love, to fulfil thy destined course--try to add
+to thy other virtues patience. I could have wished, for thy sake, that
+we could have died together--or that I could live to shield thee from
+the assaults of an unfeeling world! Could I but offer thee an asylum in
+these arms--a faithful bosom, in which thou couldst repose all thy
+griefs--" He pressed her to it, and she returned the pressure--he felt her
+throbbing heart. A mournful silence ensued! when he resumed the
+conversation. "I wished to prepare thee for the blow--too surely do I
+feel that it will not be long delayed! The passion I have nursed is so
+pure, that death cannot extinguish it--or tear away the impression thy
+virtues have made on my soul. I would fain comfort thee--"
+
+"Talk not of comfort," interrupted Mary, "it will be in heaven with thee
+and Ann--while I shall remain on earth the veriest wretch!"--She grasped
+his hand.
+
+"There we shall meet, my love, my Mary, in our Father's--" His voice
+faultered; he could not finish the sentence; he was almost
+suffocated--they both wept, their tears relieved them; they walked
+slowly to the garden-gate (Mary would not go into the house); they could
+not say farewel when they reached it--and Mary hurried down the lane; to
+spare Henry the pain of witnessing her emotions.
+
+When she lost sight of the house she sat down on the ground, till it
+grew late, thinking of all that had passed. Full of these thoughts, she
+crept along, regardless of the descending rain; when lifting up her eyes
+to heaven, and then turning them wildly on the prospects around, without
+marking them; she only felt that the scene accorded with her present
+state of mind. It was the last glimmering of twilight, with a full moon,
+over which clouds continually flitted. Where am I wandering, God of
+Mercy! she thought; she alluded to the wanderings of her mind. In what a
+labyrinth am I lost! What miseries have I already encountered--and what
+a number lie still before me.
+
+Her thoughts flew rapidly to something. I could be happy listening to
+him, soothing his cares.--Would he not smile upon me--call me his own
+Mary? I am not his--said she with fierceness--I am a wretch! and she
+heaved a sigh that almost broke her heart, while the big tears rolled
+down her burning cheeks; but still her exercised mind, accustomed to
+think, began to observe its operation, though the barrier of reason was
+almost carried away, and all the faculties not restrained by her, were
+running into confusion. Wherefore am I made thus? Vain are my
+efforts--I cannot live without loving--and love leads to madness.--Yet
+I will not weep; and her eyes were now fixed by despair, dry and
+motionless; and then quickly whirled about with a look of distraction.
+
+She looked for hope; but found none--all was troubled waters.--No where
+could she find rest. I have already paced to and fro in the earth; it is
+not my abiding place--may I not too go home! Ah! no. Is this complying
+with my Henry's request, could a spirit thus disengaged expect to
+associate with his? Tears of tenderness strayed down her relaxed
+countenance, and her softened heart heaved more regularly. She felt the
+rain, and turned to her solitary home.
+
+Fatigued by the tumultuous emotions she had endured, when she entered
+the house she ran to her own room, sunk on the bed; and exhausted
+nature soon closed her eyes; but active fancy was still awake, and a
+thousand fearful dreams interrupted her slumbers.
+
+Feverish and languid, she opened her eyes, and saw the unwelcome sun
+dart his rays through a window, the curtains of which she had forgotten
+to draw. The dew hung on the adjacent trees, and added to the lustre;
+the little robin began his song, and distant birds joined. She looked;
+her countenance was still vacant--her sensibility was absorbed by one
+object.
+
+Did I ever admire the rising sun, she slightly thought, turning from the
+Window, and shutting her eyes: she recalled to view the last night's
+scene. His faltering voice, lingering step, and the look of tender woe,
+were all graven on her heart; as were the words "Could these arms
+shield thee from sorrow--afford thee an asylum from an unfeeling world."
+The pressure to his bosom was not forgot. For a moment she was happy;
+but in a long-drawn sigh every delightful sensation evaporated.
+Soon--yes, very soon, will the grave again receive all I love! and the
+remnant of my days--she could not proceed--Were there then days to come
+after that?
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXVIII.
+
+
+Just as she was going to quit her room, to visit Henry, his mother
+called on her.
+
+"My son is worse to-day," said she, "I come to request you to spend not
+only this day, but a week or two with me.--Why should I conceal any
+thing from you? Last night my child made his mother his confident, and,
+in the anguish of his heart, requested me to be thy friend--when I shall
+be childless. I will not attempt to describe what I felt when he talked
+thus to me. If I am to lose the support of my age, and be again a
+widow--may I call her Child whom my Henry wishes me to adopt?"
+
+This new instance of Henry's disinterested affection, Mary felt most
+forcibly; and striving to restrain the complicated emotions, and sooth
+the wretched mother, she almost fainted: when the unhappy parent forced
+tears from her, by saying, "I deserve this blow; my partial fondness
+made me neglect him, when most he wanted a mother's care; this neglect,
+perhaps, first injured his constitution: righteous Heaven has made my
+crime its own punishment; and now I am indeed a mother, I shall loss my
+child--my only child!"
+
+When they were a little more composed they hastened to the invalide; but
+during the short ride, the mother related several instances of Henry's
+goodness of heart. Mary's tears were not those of unmixed anguish; the
+display of his virtues gave her extreme delight--yet human nature
+prevailed; she trembled to think they would soon unfold themselves in a
+more genial clime.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXIX.
+
+
+She found Henry very ill. The physician had some weeks before declared
+he never knew a person with a similar pulse recover. Henry was certain
+he could not live long; all the rest he could obtain, was procured by
+opiates. Mary now enjoyed the melancholy pleasure of nursing him, and
+softened by her tenderness the pains she could not remove. Every sigh
+did she stifle, every tear restrain, when he could see or hear them. She
+would boast of her resignation--yet catch eagerly at the least ray of
+hope. While he slept she would support his pillow, and rest her head
+where she could feel his breath. She loved him better than herself--she
+could not pray for his recovery; she could only say, The will of Heaven
+be done.
+
+While she was in this state, she labored to acquire fortitude; but one
+tender look destroyed it all--she rather labored, indeed, to make him
+believe he was resigned, than really to be so.
+
+She wished to receive the sacrament with him, as a bond of union which
+was to extend beyond the grave. She did so, and received comfort from
+it; she rose above her misery.
+
+His end was now approaching. Mary sat on the side of the bed. His eyes
+appeared fixed--no longer agitated by passion, he only felt that it was
+a fearful thing to die. The soul retired to the citadel; but it was not
+now solely filled by the image of her who in silent despair watched for
+his last breath. Collected, a frightful calmness stilled every turbulent
+emotion.
+
+The mother's grief was more audible. Henry had for some time only
+attended to Mary--Mary pitied the parent, whose stings of conscience
+increased her sorrow; she whispered him, "Thy mother weeps, disregarded
+by thee; oh! comfort her!--My mother, thy son blesses thee.--" The
+oppressed parent left the room. And Mary _waited_ to see him die.
+
+She pressed with trembling eagerness his parched lips--he opened his
+eyes again; the spreading film retired, and love returned them--he gave
+a look--it was never forgotten. My Mary, will you be comforted?
+
+Yes, yes, she exclaimed in a firm voice; you go to be happy--I am not a
+complete wretch! The words almost choked her.
+
+He was a long time silent; the opiate produced a kind of stupor. At
+last, in an agony, he cried, It is dark; I cannot see thee; raise me up.
+Where is Mary? did she not say she delighted to support me? let me die
+in her arms.
+
+Her arms were opened to receive him; they trembled not. Again he was
+obliged to lie down, resting on her: as the agonies increased he leaned
+towards her: the soul seemed flying to her, as it escaped out of its
+prison. The breathing was interrupted; she heard distinctly the last
+sigh--and lifting up to Heaven her eyes, Father, receive his spirit, she
+calmly cried.
+
+The attendants gathered round; she moved not, nor heard the clamor; the
+hand seemed yet to press hers; it still was warm. A ray of light from
+an opened window discovered the pale face.
+
+She left the room, and retired to one very near it; and sitting down on
+the floor, fixed her eyes on the door of the apartment which contained
+the body. Every event of her life rushed across her mind with wonderful
+rapidity--yet all was still--fate had given the finishing stroke. She
+sat till midnight.--Then rose in a phrensy, went into the apartment, and
+desired those who watched the body to retire.
+
+She knelt by the bed side;--an enthusiastic devotion overcame the
+dictates of despair.--She prayed most ardently to be supported, and
+dedicated herself to the service of that Being into whose hands, she had
+committed the spirit she almost adored--again--and again,--she prayed
+wildly--and fervently--but attempting to touch the lifeless hand--her
+head swum--she sunk--
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXX.
+
+
+Three months after, her only friend, the mother of her lost Henry began
+to be alarmed, at observing her altered appearance; and made her own
+health a pretext for travelling. These complaints roused Mary out of her
+torpid state; she imagined a new duty now forced her to exert herself--a
+duty love made sacred!--
+
+They went to Bath, from that to Bristol; but the latter place they
+quickly left; the sight of the sick that resort there, they neither of
+them could bear. From Bristol they flew to Southampton. The road was
+pleasant--yet Mary shut her eyes;--or if they were open, green fields
+and commons, passed in quick succession, and left no more traces behind
+than if they had been waves of the sea.
+
+Some time after they were settled at Southampton, they met the man who
+took so much notice of Mary, soon after her return to England. He
+renewed his acquaintance; he was really interested in her fate, as he
+had heard her uncommon story; besides, he knew her husband; knew him to
+be a good-natured, weak man. He saw him soon after his arrival in his
+native country, and prevented his hastening to enquire into the reasons
+of Mary's strange conduct. He desired him not to be too precipitate, if
+he ever wished to possess an invaluable treasure. He was guided by him,
+and allowed him to follow Mary to Southampton, and speak first to her
+friend.
+
+This friend determined to trust to her native strength of mind, and
+informed her of the circumstance; but she overrated it: Mary was not
+able, for a few days after the intelligence, to fix on the mode of
+conduct she ought now to pursue. But at last she conquered her disgust,
+and wrote her _husband_ an account of what had passed since she had
+dropped his correspondence.
+
+He came in person to answer the letter. Mary fainted when he approached
+her unexpectedly. Her disgust returned with additional force, in spite
+of previous reasonings, whenever he appeared; yet she was prevailed on
+to promise to live with him, if he would permit her to pass one year,
+travelling from place to place; he was not to accompany her.
+
+The time too quickly elapsed, and she gave him her hand--the struggle
+was almost more than she could endure. She tried to appear calm; time
+mellowed her grief, and mitigated her torments; but when her husband
+would take her hand, or mention any thing like love, she would instantly
+feel a sickness, a faintness at her heart, and wish, involuntarily, that
+the earth would open and swallow her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAP. XXXI.
+
+
+Mary visited the continent, and sought health in different climates; but
+her nerves were not to be restored to their former state. She then
+retired to her house in the country, established manufactories, threw
+the estate into small farms; and continually employed herself this way
+to dissipate care, and banish unavailing regret. She visited the sick,
+supported the old, and educated the young.
+
+These occupations engrossed her mind; but there were hours when all her
+former woes would return and haunt her.--Whenever she did, or said, any
+thing she thought Henry would have approved of--she could not avoid
+thinking with anguish, of the rapture his approbation ever conveyed to
+her heart--a heart in which there was a void, that even benevolence and
+religion could not fill. The latter taught her to struggle for
+resignation; and the former rendered life supportable.
+
+Her delicate state of health did not promise long life. In moments of
+solitary sadness, a gleam of joy would dart across her mind--She thought
+she was hastening to that world _where there is neither marrying_, nor
+giving in marriage.
+
+
+
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