WOMAN.

CHAP. IX.

"I Reſume my pen to fly from thought. I was married; and we haſtened to London. I had purpoſed taking one of my ſiſters with me; for a ſtrong motive for marrying, was the deſire of having a home at which I could receive them, now their own grew ſo uncomfortable, as not to deſerve the cheering appellation. An objection was made to her accompanying me, that appeared plauſible; and I reluctantly acquieſced. I was however willingly allowed to take with me Molly, poor Peggy's daughter. London and preferment, are ideas commonly aſſociated in the country; and, as blooming as May, ſhe bade adieu to Peggy with weeping eyes. I did not even feel hurt at the refuſal in relation to my ſiſter, till hearing what my uncle had done for me, I had the ſimplicity to requeſt, ſpeaking with warmth of their ſituation, that he would give them a thouſand pounds a-piece, which ſeemed to me but juſtice. He aſked me, giving me a kiſs, 'If I had loſt my ſenſes?' I ſtarted back, as if I had found a waſp in a roſe-buſh. I expoſtulated. He ſneered; and the demon of diſcord entered our paradiſe, to poiſon with his peſtiferous breath every opening joy.

"I had ſometimes obſerved defects in my huſband's underſtanding; but, led aſtray by a prevailing opinion, that goodneſs of diſpoſition is of the firſt importance in the relative ſituations of life, in proportion as I perceived the narrowneſs of his underſtanding, fancy enlarged the boundary of his heart. Fatal error! How quickly is the ſo much vaunted milkineſs of nature turned into gall, by an intercourſe with the world, if more generous juices do not ſuſtain the vital ſource of virtue!

"One trait in my character was extreme credulity; but, when my eyes were once opened, I ſaw but too clearly all I had before overlooked. My huſband was ſunk in my eſteem; ſtill there are youthful emotions, which, for a while, fill up the chaſm of love and friendſhip. Beſides, it required ſome time to enable me to ſee his whole character in a juſt light, or rather to allow it to become fixed. While circumſtances were ripening my faculties, and cultivating my taſte, commerce and groſs relaxations were ſhutting his againſt any poſſibility of improvement, till, by ſtifling every ſpark of virtue in himſelf, he began to imagine that it no where exiſted.

"Do not let me lead you aſtray, my child, I do not mean to aſſert, that any human being is entirely incapable of feeling the generous emotions, which are the foundation of every true principle of virtue; but they are frequently, I fear, ſo feeble, that, like the inflammable quality which more or leſs lurks in all bodies, they often lie for ever dormant; the circumſtances never occurring, neceſſary to call them into action.

"I diſcovered however by chance, that, in conſequence of ſome loſſes in trade, the natural effect of his gambling deſire to ſtart ſuddenly into riches, the five thouſand pounds given me by my uncle, had been paid very opportunely. This diſcovery, ſtrange as you may think the aſſertion, gave me pleaſure; my huſband's embarraſſments endeared him to me. I was glad to find an excuſe for his conduct to my ſiſters, and my mind became calmer.

"My uncle introduced me to ſome literary ſociety; and the theatres were a never-failing ſource of amuſement to me. My delighted eye followed Mrs. Siddons, when, with dignified delicacy, ſhe played Caliſta; and I involuntarily repeated after her, in the ſame tone, and with a long-drawn ſigh,

'Hearts like our's were pair'd—not match'd.'

"Theſe were, at firſt, ſpontaneous emotions, though, becoming acquainted with men of wit and poliſhed manners, I could not ſometimes help regretting my early marriage; and that, in my haſte to eſcape from a temporary dependence, and expand my newly fledged wings, in an unknown ſky, I had been caught in a trap, and caged for life. Still the novelty of London, and the attentive fondneſs of my huſband, for he had ſome perſonal regard for me, made ſeveral months glide away. Yet, not forgetting the ſituation of my ſiſters, who were ſtill very young, I prevailed on my uncle to ſet tle a thouſand pounds on each; and to place them in a ſchool near town, where I could frequently viſit, as well as have them at home with me.

"I now tried to improve my huſband's taſte, but we had few ſubjects in common; indeed he ſoon appeared to have little reliſh for my ſociety, unleſs he was hinting to me the uſe he could make of my uncle's wealth. When we had company, I was diſguſted by an oſtentatious diſplay of riches, and I have often quitted the room, to avoid liſtening to exaggerated tales of money obtained by lucky hits.

"With all my attention and affectionate intereſt, I perceived that I could not become the friend or confident of my huſband. Every thing I learned relative to his affairs I gathered up by accident; and I vainly endea voured to eſtabliſh, at our fire-ſide, that ſocial converſe, which often renders people of different characters dear to each other. Returning from the theatre, or any amuſing party, I frequently began to relate what I had ſeen and highly reliſhed; but with ſullen taciturnity he ſoon ſilenced me. I ſeemed therefore gradually to loſe, in his ſociety, the ſoul, the energies of which had juſt been in action. To ſuch a degree, in fact, did his cold, reſerved manner affect me, that, after ſpending ſome days with him alone, I have imagined myſelf the moſt ſtupid creature in the world, till the abilities of ſome caſual viſitor convinced me that I had ſome dormant animation, and ſentiments above the duſt in which I had been groveling. The very countenance of my huſband changed; his com plexion became ſallow, and all the charms of youth were vaniſhing with its vivacity.

"I give you one view of the ſubject; but theſe experiments and alterations took up the ſpace of five years; during which period, I had moſt reluctantly extorted ſeveral ſums from my uncle, to ſave my huſband, to uſe his own words, from deſtruction. At firſt it was to prevent bills being noted, to the injury of his credit; then to bail him; and afterwards to prevent an execution from entering the houſe. I began at laſt to conclude, that he would have made more exertions of his own to extricate himſelf, had he not relied on mine, cruel as was the taſk he impoſed on me; and I firmly determined that I would make uſe of no more pretexts.

"From the moment I pronounced this determination, indifference on his part was changed into rudeneſs, or ſomething worſe.

"He now ſeldom dined at home, and continually returned at a late hour, drunk, to bed. I retired to another apartment; I was glad, I own, to eſcape from his; for perſonal intimacy without affection, ſeemed, to me the moſt degrading, as well as the moſt painful ſtate in which a woman of any taſte, not to ſpeak of the peculiar delicacy of foſtered ſenſibility, could be placed. But my huſband's fondneſs for women was of the groſſeſt kind, and imagination was ſo wholly out of the queſtion, as to render his indulgences of this ſort entirely promiſcuous, and of the moſt brutal nature. My health ſuffered, before my heart was entirely eſtranged by the loath ſome information; could I then have returned to his ſullied arms, but as a victim to the prejudices of mankind, who have made women the property of their huſbands? I diſcovered even, by his converſation, when intoxicated, that his favourites were wantons of the loweſt claſs, who could by their vulgar, indecent mirth, which he called nature, rouſe his ſluggiſh ſpirits. Meretricious ornaments and manners were neceſſary to attract his attention. He ſeldom looked twice at a modeſt woman, and ſat ſilent in their company; and the charms of youth and beauty had not the ſlighteſt effect on his ſenſes, unleſs the poſſeſſors were initiated in vice. His intimacy with profligate women, and his habits of thinking, gave him a contempt for female endowments; and he would repeat, when wine had looſed his tongue, moſt of the common-place ſarcaſms levelled at them, by men who do not allow them to have minds, becauſe mind would be an impediment to groſs enjoyment. Men who are inferior to their fellow men, are always moſt anxious to eſtabliſh their ſuperiority over women. But where are theſe reflections leading me?

"Women who have loſt their huſband's affection, are juſtly reproved for neglecting their perſons, and not taking the ſame pains to keep, as to gain a heart; but who thinks of giving the ſame advice to men, though women are continually ſtigmatized for being attached to fops; and from the nature of their education, are more ſuſceptible of diſguſt? Yet why a woman ſhould be expected to endure a ſloven, with more patience than a man, and magnanimouſly to govern herſelf, I cannot conceive; unleſs it be ſuppoſed arrogant in her to look for reſpect as well as a maintenance. It is not eaſy to be pleaſed, becauſe, after promiſing to love, in different circumſtances, we are told that it is our duty. I cannot, I am ſure (though, when attending the ſick, I never felt diſguſt) forget my own ſenſations, when riſing with health and ſpirit, and after ſcenting the ſweet morning, I have met my huſband at the breakfaſt table. The active attention I had been giving to domeſtic regulations, which were generally ſettled before he roſe, or a walk, gave a glow to my countenance, that contraſted with his ſquallid appearance. The ſqueamiſhneſs of ſtomach alone, produced by the laſt night's intemperance, which he took no pains to conceal, deſtroyed my appetite. I think I now ſee him lolling in an arm-chair, in a dirty powdering gown, ſoiled linen, ungartered ſtockings, and tangled hair, yawning and ſtretching himſelf. The newſpaper was immediately called for, if not brought in on the tea-board, from which he would ſcarcely lift his eyes while I poured out the tea, excepting to aſk for ſome brandy to put into it, or to declare that he could not eat. In anſwer to any queſtion, in his beſt humour, it was a drawling 'What do you ſay, child?' But if I demanded money for the houſe expences, which I put off till the laſt moment, his cuſtomary reply, often prefaced with an oath, was, 'Do you think me, madam, made of money?'—The butcher, the baker, muſt wait; and, what was worſe, I was often obliged to witneſs his ſurly diſmiſſion of tradeſmen, who were in want of their money, and whom I ſometimes paid with the preſents my uncle gave me for my own uſe.

"At this juncture my father's miſtreſs, by terrifying his conſcience, prevailed on him to marry her; he was already become a methodiſt; and my brother, who now practiſed for himſelf, had diſcovered a flaw in the ſettlement made on my mother's children, which ſet it aſide, and he allowed my father, whoſe diſtreſs made him ſubmit to any thing, a tithe of his own, or rather our fortune.

"My ſiſters had left ſchool, but were unable to endure home, which my father's wife rendered as diſagreeable as poſſible, to get rid of girls whom ſhe regarded as ſpies on her conduct. They were accompliſhed, yet you can (may you never be reduced to the ſame deſtitute ſtate!) ſcarcely conceive the trouble I had to place them in the ſituation of governeſſes, the only one in which even a well-educated woman, with more than ordinary talents, can ſtruggle for a ſubſiſtence; and even this is a dependence next to menial. Is it then ſurpriſing, that ſo many forlorn women, with human paſſions and feelings, take refuge in infamy? Alone in large manſions, I ſay alone, becauſe they had no companions with whom they could converſe on equal terms, or from whom they could expect the endearments of affection, they grew melancholy, and the ſound of joy made them ſad; and the youngeſt, having a more delicate frame, fell into a decline. It was with great difficulty that I, who now almoſt ſupported the houſe by loans from my uncle, could prevail on the maſter of it, to allow her a room to die in. I watched her ſick bed for ſome months, and then cloſed her eyes, gentle ſpirit! for ever. She was pretty, with very engaging manners; yet had never an opportunity to marry, excepting to a very old man. She had abilities ſufficient to have ſhone in any profeſſion, had there been any profeſſions for women, though ſhe ſhrunk at the name of milliner or mantua-maker as degrading to a gentlewoman. I would not term this feeling falſe pride to any one but you, my child, whom I fondly hope to ſee (yes; I will indulge the hope for a moment!) poſſeſſed of that energy of character which gives dignity to any ſtation; and with that clear, firm ſpirit that will en able you to chooſe a ſituation for yourſelf, or ſubmit to be claſſed in the loweſt, if it be the only one in which you can be the miſtreſs of your own actions.

"Soon after the death of my ſiſter, an incident occurred, to prove to me that the heart of a libertine is dead to natural affection; and to convince me, that the being who has appeared all tenderneſs, to gratify a ſelfiſh paſſion, is as regardleſs of the innocent fruit of it, as of the object, when the fit is over. I had caſually obſerved an old, mean-looking woman, who called on my huſband every two or three months to receive ſome money. One day entering the paſſage of his little counting-houſe, as ſhe was going out, I heard her ſay, 'The child is very weak; ſhe cannot live long, ſhe will ſoon die out of your way, ſo you need not grudge her a little phyſic.'

"'So much the better,' he replied, 'and pray mind your own buſineſs, good woman.'

"I was ſtruck by his unfeeling, inhuman tone of voice, and drew back, determined when the woman came again, to try to ſpeak to her, not out of curioſity, I had heard enough, but with the hope of being uſeful to a poor, outcaſt girl.

"A month or two elapſed before I ſaw this woman again; and then ſhe had a child in her hand that tottered along, ſcarcely able to ſuſtain her own weight. They were going away, to return at the hour Mr. Venables was expected; he was now from home. I deſired the woman to walk into the parlour. She heſitated, yet obeyed. I aſſured her that I ſhould not mention to my huſband (the word ſeemed to weigh on my reſpiration), that I had ſeen her, or his child. The woman ſtared at me with aſtoniſhment; and I turned my eyes on the ſqualid object [that accompanied her.] She could hardly ſupport herſelf, her complexion was ſallow, and her eyes inflamed, with an indeſcribable look of cunning, mixed with the wrinkles produced by the peeviſhneſs of pain.

"'Poor child!' I exclaimed. 'Ah! you may well ſay poor child,' replied the woman. 'I brought her here to ſee whether he would have the heart to look at her, and not get ſome advice. I do not know what they deſerve who nurſed her. Why, her legs bent under her like a bow when ſhe came to me, and ſhe has never been well ſince; but, if they were no better paid than I am, it is not to be wondered at, ſure enough.'

"On further enquiry I was informed, that this miſerable ſpectacle was the daughter of a ſervant, a country girl, who caught Mr. Venables' eye, and whom he ſeduced. On his marriage he ſent her away, her ſituation being too viſible. After her delivery, ſhe was thrown on the town; and died in an hoſpital within the year. The babe was ſent to a pariſh-nurſe, and afterwards to this woman, who did not ſeem much better; but what was to be expected from ſuch a cloſe bargain? She was only paid three ſhillings a week for board and waſhing.

"The woman begged me to give her ſome old clothes for the child, aſſuring me, that ſhe was almoſt afraid to aſk maſter for money to buy even a pair of ſhoes.

"I grew ſick at heart. And, fearing Mr. Venables might enter, and oblige me to expreſs my abhorrence, I haſtily enquired where ſhe lived, promiſed to pay her two ſhillings a week more, and to call on her in a day or two; putting a trifle into her hand as a proof of my good intention.

"If the ſtate of this child affected me, what were my feelings at a diſcovery I made reſpecting Peggy——?[22-A]

FOOTNOTES:

[22-A] The manuſcript is imperfect here. An epiſode ſeems to have been intended, which was never committed to paper.

editor.

CHAP. X.

"My father's ſituation was now ſo diſtreſſing, that I prevailed on my uncle to accompany me to viſit him; and to lend me his aſſiſtance, to prevent the whole property of the family from becoming the prey of my brother's rapacity; for, to extricate himſelf out of preſent difficulties, my father was totally regardleſs of futurity. I took down with me ſome preſents for my ſtep-mother; it did not require an effort for me to treat her with civility, or to forget the paſt.

"This was the firſt time I had viſited my native village, ſince my marriage. But with what different emotions did I return from the buſy world, with a heavy weight of experience benumbing my imagination, to ſcenes, that whiſpered recollections of joy and hope moſt eloquently to my heart! The firſt ſcent of the wild flowers from the heath, thrilled through my veins, awakening every ſenſe to pleaſure. The icy hand of deſpair ſeemed to be removed from my boſom; and—forgetting my huſband—the nurtured viſions of a romantic mind, burſting on me with all their original wildneſs and gay exuberance, were again hailed as ſweet realities. I forgot, with equal facility, that I ever felt ſorrow, or knew care in the country; while a tranſient rainbow ſtole athwart the cloudy ſky of deſpondency. The pictureſque form of ſeveral favourite trees, and the porches of rude cottages, with their ſmiling hedges, were recognized with the glad ſome playfulneſs of childiſh vivacity. I could have kiſſed the chickens that pecked on the common; and longed to pat the cows, and frolic with the dogs that ſported on it. I gazed with delight on the windmill, and thought it lucky that it ſhould be in motion, at the moment I paſſed by; and entering the dear green lane, which led directly to the village, the ſound of the well-known rookery gave that ſentimental tinge to the varying ſenſations of my active ſoul, which only ſerved to heighten the luſtre of the luxuriant ſcenery. But, ſpying, as I advanced, the ſpire, peeping over the withered tops of the aged elms that compoſed the rookery, my thoughts flew immediately to the church-yard, and tears of affection, ſuch was the effect of my imagination, bedewed my mother's grave! Sorrow gave place to devotional feelings. I wandered through the church in fancy, as I uſed ſometimes to do on a Saturday evening. I recollected with what fervour I addreſſed the God of my youth: and once more with rapturous love looked above my ſorrows to the Father of nature. I pauſe—feeling forcibly all the emotions I am deſcribing; and (reminded, as I regiſter my ſorrows, of the ſublime calm I have felt, when in ſome tremendous ſolitude, my ſoul reſted on itſelf, and ſeemed to fill the univerſe) I inſenſibly breathe ſoft, huſhing every wayward emotion, as if fearing to ſully with a ſigh, a contentment ſo extatic.

"Having ſettled my father's affairs, and, by my exertions in his favour, made my brother my ſworn foe, I returned to London. My huſband's conduct was now changed; I had during my abſence, received ſeveral affectionate, penitential letters from him; and he ſeemed on my arrival, to wiſh by his behaviour to prove his ſincerity. I could not then conceive why he acted thus; and, when the ſuſpicion darted into my head, that it might ariſe from obſerving my increaſing influence with my uncle, I almoſt deſpiſed myſelf for imagining that ſuch a degree of debaſing ſelfiſhneſs could exiſt.

"He became, unaccountable as was the change, tender and attentive; and, attacking my weak ſide, made a confeſſion of his follies, and lamented the embarraſſments in which I, who merited a far different fate, might be involved. He beſought me to aid him with my counſel, praiſed my underſtanding, and appealed to the tenderneſs of my heart.

"This conduct only inſpired me with compaſſion. I wiſhed to be his friend; but love had ſpread his roſy pinions, and fled far, far away; and had not (like ſome exquiſite perfumes, the fine ſpirit of which is continually mingling with the air) left a fragrance behind, to mark where he had ſhook his wings. My huſband's renewed careſſes then became hateful to me; his brutality was tolerable, compared to his diſtaſteful fondneſs. Still, compaſſion, and the fear of inſulting his ſuppoſed feelings, by a want of ſympathy, made me diſſemble, and do violence to my delicacy. What a taſk!

"Thoſe who ſupport a ſyſtem of what I term falſe refinement, and will not allow great part of love in the female, as well as male breaſt, to ſpring in ſome reſpects involuntarily, may not admit that charms are as neceſſary to feed the paſſion, as virtues to convert the mellowing ſpirit into friendſhip. To ſuch obſervers I have nothing to ſay, any more than to the moraliſts, who inſiſt that women ought to, and can love their huſbands, becauſe it is their duty. To you, my child, I may add, with a heart tremblingly alive to your future conduct, ſome obſervations, dictated by my preſent feelings, on calmly reviewing this period of my life. When noveliſts or moraliſts praiſe as a virtue, a woman's coldneſs of conſtitution, and want of paſſion; and make her yield to the ardour of her lover out of ſheer compaſſion, or to promote a frigid plan of future comfort, I am diſguſted. They may be good women, in the ordinary acceptation of the phraſe, and do no harm; but they appear to me not to have thoſe 'finely faſhioned nerves,' which render the ſenſes exquiſite. They may poſſeſs tenderneſs; but they want that fire of the imagination, which produces active ſenſibility, and poſitive virtue. How does the woman deſerve to be characterized, who marries one man, with a heart and imagination devoted to another? Is ſhe not an object of pity or contempt, when thus ſacrilegiouſly violating the purity of her own feelings? Nay, it is as indelicate, when ſhe is indifferent, unleſs ſhe be conſtitutionally inſenſible; then indeed it is a mere affair of barter; and I have nothing to do with the ſecrets of trade. Yes; eagerly as I wiſh you to poſſeſs true rectitude of mind, and purity of affection, I muſt inſiſt that a heartleſs conduct is the contrary of virtuous. Truth is the only baſis of virtue; and we cannot, without depraving our minds, endeavour to pleaſe a lover or huſband, but in proportion as he pleaſes us. Men, more effectually to enſlave us, may inculcate this partial morality, and loſe ſight of virtue in ſubdividing it into the duties of particular ſtations; but let us not bluſh for nature without a cauſe!

"After theſe remarks, I am aſhamed to own, that I was pregnant. The greateſt ſacrifice of my principles in my whole life, was the allowing my huſband again to be familiar with my perſon, though to this cruel act of ſelf-denial, when I wiſhed the earth to open and ſwallow me, you owe your birth; and I the unutterable pleaſure of being a mother. There was ſomething of delicacy in my huſband's bridal attentions; but now his tainted breath, pimpled face, and blood-ſhot eyes, were not more repugnant to my ſenſes, than his groſs manners, and loveleſs familiarity to my taſte.

"A man would only be expected to maintain; yes, barely grant a ſubſiſtence, to a woman rendered odious by habitual intoxication; but who would expect him, or think it poſſible to love her? And unleſs 'youth, and genial years were flown,' it would be thought equally unreaſonable to inſiſt, [under penalty of] forfeiting almoſt every thing reckoned valuable in life, that he ſhould not love another: whilſt woman, weak in reaſon, impotent in will, is required to moralize, ſentimentalize herſelf to ſtone, and pine her life away, labouring to reform her embruted mate. He may even ſpend in diſſipation, and intemperance, the very intemperance which renders him ſo hateful, her property, and by ſtinting her expences, not permit her to beguile in ſociety, a weariſome, joyleſs life; for over their mutual fortune ſhe has no power, it muſt all paſs through his hand. And if ſhe be a mother, and in the preſent ſtate of women, it is a great miſfortune to be prevented from diſcharging the duties, and cultivating the affections of one, what has ſhe not to endure?—But I have ſuffered the tenderneſs of one to lead me into reflections that I did not think of making, to interrupt my narrative—yet the full heart will overflow.

"Mr. Venables' embarraſſments did not now endear him to me; ſtill, anxi ous to befriend him, I endeavoured to prevail on him to retrench his expences; but he had always ſome plauſible excuſe to give, to juſtify his not following my advice. Humanity, compaſſion, and the intereſt produced by a habit of living together, made me try to relieve, and ſympathize with him; but, when I recollected that I was bound to live with ſuch a being for ever—my heart died within me; my deſire of improvement became languid, and baleful, corroding melancholy took poſſeſſion of my ſoul. Marriage had baſtilled me for life. I diſcovered in myſelf a capacity for the enjoyment of the various pleaſures exiſtence affords; yet, fettered by the partial laws of ſociety, this fair globe was to me an univerſal blank.

"When I exhorted my huſband to economy, I referred to himſelf. I was obliged to practiſe the moſt rigid, or contract debts, which I had too much reaſon to fear would never be paid. I deſpiſed this paltry privilege of a wife, which can only be of uſe to the vicious or inconſiderate, and determined not to increaſe the torrent that was bearing him down. I was then ignorant of the extent of his fraudulent ſpeculations, whom I was bound to honour and obey.

"A woman neglected by her huſband, or whoſe manners form a ſtriking contraſt with his, will always have men on the watch to ſoothe and flatter her. Beſides, the forlorn ſtate of a neglected woman, not deſtitute of perſonal charms, is particularly intereſting, and rouſes that ſpecies of pity, which is ſo near akin, it eaſily ſlides into love. A man of feeling thinks not of ſeducing, he is himſelf ſeduced by all the nobleſt emotions of his ſoul. He figures to himſelf all the ſacrifices a woman of ſenſibility muſt make, and every ſituation in which his imagination places her, touches his heart, and fires his paſſions. Longing to take to his boſom the ſhorn lamb, and bid the drooping buds of hope revive, benevolence changes into paſſion: and ſhould he then diſcover that he is beloved, honour binds him faſt, though foreſeeing that he may afterwards be obliged to pay ſevere damages to the man, who never appeared to value his wife's ſociety, till he found that there was a chance of his being indemnified for the loſs of it.

"Such are the partial laws enacted by men; for, only to lay a ſtreſs on the dependent ſtate of a woman in the grand queſtion of the comforts ariſing from the poſſeſſion of property, ſhe is [even in this article] much more injured by the loſs of the huſband's affection, than he by that of his wife; yet where is ſhe, condemned to the ſolitude of a deſerted home, to look for a compenſation from the woman, who ſeduces him from her? She cannot drive an unfaithful huſband from his houſe, nor ſeparate, or tear, his children from him, however culpable he may be; and he, ſtill the maſter of his own fate, enjoys the ſmiles of a world, that would brand her with infamy, did ſhe, ſeeking conſolation, venture to retaliate.

"Theſe remarks are not dictated by experience; but merely by the compaſſion I feel for many amiable women, the out-laws of the world. For my ſelf, never encouraging any of the advances that were made to me, my lovers dropped off like the untimely ſhoots of ſpring. I did not even coquet with them; becauſe I found, on examining myſelf, I could not coquet with a man without loving him a little; and I perceived that I ſhould not be able to ſtop at the line of what are termed innocent freedoms, did I ſuffer any. My reſerve was then the conſequence of delicacy. Freedom of conduct has emancipated many women's minds; but my conduct has moſt rigidly been governed by my principles, till the improvement of my underſtanding has enabled me to diſcern the fallacy of prejudices at war with nature and reaſon.

"Shortly after the change I have mentioned in my huſband's conduct, my uncle was compelled by his declining health, to ſeek the ſuccour of a milder climate, and embark for Liſbon. He left his will in the hands of a friend, an eminent ſolicitor; he had previouſly queſtioned me relative to my ſituation and ſtate of mind, and declared very freely, that he could place no reliance on the ſtability of my huſband's profeſſions. He had been deceived in the unfolding of his character; he now thought it fixed in a train of actions that would inevitably lead to ruin and diſgrace.

"The evening before his departure, which we ſpent alone together, he folded me to his heart, uttering the endearing appellation of 'child.'—My more than father! why was I not permitted to perform the laſt duties of one, and ſmooth the pillow of death? He ſeemed by his manner to be convinced that he ſhould never ſee me more; yet requeſted me, moſt earneſtly, to come to him, ſhould I be obliged to leave my huſband. He had before expreſſed his ſorrow at hearing of my pregnancy, having determined to prevail on me to accompany him, till I informed him of that circumſtance. He expreſſed himſelf unfeignedly ſorry that any new tie ſhould bind me to a man whom he thought ſo incapable of eſtimating my value; ſuch was the kind language of affection.

"I muſt repeat his own words; they made an indelible impreſſion on my mind:

"'The marriage ſtate is certainly that in which women, generally ſpeaking, can be moſt uſeful; but I am far from thinking that a woman, once married, ought to conſider the engagement as indiſſoluble (eſpecially if there be no children to reward her for ſacrificing her feelings) in caſe her huſband merits neither her love, nor eſteem. Eſteem will often ſupply the place of love; and prevent a woman from being wretched, though it may not make her happy. The magnitude of a ſacrifice ought always to bear ſome proportion to the utility in view; and for a woman to live with a man, for whom ſhe can cheriſh neither affection nor eſteem, or even be of any uſe to him, excepting in the light of a houſe-keeper, is an abjectneſs of condition, the enduring of which no concurrence of circumſtances can ever make a duty in the ſight of God or juſt men. If indeed ſhe ſubmits to it merely to be maintained in idleneſs, ſhe has no right to complain bitterly of her fate; or to act, as a perſon of independent character might, as if ſhe had a title to diſregard general rules.

"'But the miſfortune is, that many women only ſubmit in appearance, and forfeit their own reſpect to ſecure their reputation in the world. The ſituation of a woman ſeparated from her huſband, is undoubtedly very different from that of a man who has left his wife. He, with lordly dignity, has ſhaken of a clog; and the allowing her food and raiment, is thought ſufficient to ſecure his reputation from taint. And, ſhould ſhe have been inconſiderate, he will be celebrated for his generoſity and forbearance. Such is the reſpect paid to the maſter-key of property! A wo man, on the contrary, reſigning what is termed her natural protector (though he never was ſo, but in name) is deſpiſed and ſhunned, for aſſerting the independence of mind diſtinctive of a rational being, and ſpurning at ſlavery.'

"During the remainder of the evening, my uncle's tenderneſs led him frequently to revert to the ſubject, and utter, with increaſing warmth, ſentiments to the ſame purport. At length it was neceſſary to ſay 'Farewell!'—and we parted—gracious God! to meet no more.

CHAP. XI.

"A gentleman of large fortune and of poliſhed manners, had lately viſited very frequently at our houſe, and treated me, if poſſible, with more reſpect than Mr. Venables paid him; my pregnancy was not yet viſible, his ſociety was a great relief to me, as I had for ſome time paſt, to avoid expence, confined myſelf very much at home. I ever diſdained unneceſſary, perhaps even prudent concealments; and my huſband, with great eaſe, diſcovered the amount of my uncle's parting preſent. A copy of a writ was the ſtale pretext to extort it from me; and I had ſoon reaſon to believe that it was fabricated for the purpoſe. I acknowledge my folly in thus ſuffering myſelf to be continually impoſed on. I had adhered to my reſolution not to apply to my uncle, on the part of my huſband, any more; yet, when I had received a ſum ſufficient to ſupply my own wants, and to enable me to purſue a plan I had in view, to ſettle my younger brother in a reſpectable employment, I allowed myſelf to be duped by Mr. Venables' ſhallow pretences, and hypocritical profeſſions.

"Thus did he pillage me and my family, thus fruſtrate all my plans of uſefulneſs. Yet this was the man I was bound to reſpect and eſteem: as if reſpect and eſteem depended on an arbitrary will of our own! But a wife being as much a man's property as his horſe, or his aſs, ſhe has nothing ſhe can call her own. He may uſe any means to get at what the law conſiders as his, the moment his wife is in poſſeſſion of it, even to the forcing of a lock, as Mr. Venables did, to ſearch for notes in my writing-deſk—and all this is done with a ſhow of equity, becauſe, forſooth, he is reſponſible for her maintenance.

"The tender mother cannot lawfully ſnatch from the gripe of the gambling ſpendthrift, or beaſtly drunkard, unmindful of his offſpring, the fortune which falls to her by chance; or (ſo flagrant is the injuſtice) what ſhe earns by her own exertions. No; he can rob her with impunity, even to waſte publicly on a courtezan; and the laws of her country—if women have a country—afford her no protection or redreſs from the oppreſſor, un leſs ſhe have the plea of bodily fear; yet how many ways are there of goading the ſoul almoſt to madneſs, equally unmanly, though not ſo mean? When ſuch laws were framed, ſhould not impartial lawgivers have firſt decreed, in the ſtyle of a great aſſembly, who recognized the exiſtence of an être ſuprême, to fix the national belief, that the huſband ſhould always be wiſer and more virtuous than his wife, in order to entitle him, with a ſhow of juſtice, to keep this idiot, or perpetual minor, for ever in bondage. But I muſt have done—on this ſubject, my indignation continually runs away with me.

"The company of the gentleman I have already mentioned, who had a general acquaintance with literature and ſubjects of taſte, was grateful to me; my countenance brightened up as he approached, and I unaffectedly expreſſed the pleaſure I felt. The amuſement his converſation afforded me, made it eaſy to comply with my huſband's requeſt, to endeavour to render our houſe agreeable to him.

"His attentions became more pointed; but, as I was not of the number of women, whoſe virtue, as it is termed, immediately takes alarm, I endeavoured, rather by raillery than ſerious expoſtulation, to give a different turn to his converſation. He aſſumed a new mode of attack, and I was, for a while, the dupe of his pretended friendſhip.

"I had, merely in the ſtyle of badinage, boaſted of my conqueſt, and repeated his lover-like compliments to my huſband. But he begged me, for God's ſake, not to affront his friend, or I ſhould deſtroy all his projects, and be his ruin. Had I had more affection for my huſband, I ſhould have expreſſed my contempt of this time-ſerving politeneſs: now I imagined that I only felt pity; yet it would have puzzled a caſuiſt to point out in what the exact difference conſiſted.

"This friend began now, in confidence, to diſcover to me the real ſtate of my huſband's affairs. 'Neceſſity,' ſaid Mr. S——; why ſhould I reveal his name? for he affected to palliate the conduct he could not excuſe, 'had led him to take ſuch ſteps, by accommodation bills, buying goods on credit, to ſell them for ready money, and ſimilar tranſactions, that his character in the commercial world was gone. He was conſidered,' he added, lowering his voice, 'on 'Change as a ſwindler.'

"I felt at that moment the firſt maternal pang. Aware of the evils my ſex have to ſtruggle with, I ſtill wiſhed, for my own conſolation, to be the mother of a daughter; and I could not bear to think, that the ſins of her father's entailed diſgrace, ſhould be added to the ills to which woman is heir.

"So completely was I deceived by theſe ſhows of friendſhip (nay, I believe, according to his interpretation, Mr. S— really was my friend) that I began to conſult him reſpecting the beſt mode of retrieving my huſband's character: it is the good name of a woman only that ſets to riſe no more. I knew not that he had been drawn into a whirlpool, out of which he had not the energy to attempt to eſcape. He ſeemed indeed deſtitute of the power of employing his faculties in any regu lar purſuit. His principles of action were ſo looſe, and his mind ſo uncultivated, that every thing like order appeared to him in the ſhape of reſtraint; and, like men in the ſavage ſtate, he required the ſtrong ſtimulus of hope or fear, produced by wild ſpeculations, in which the intereſts of others went for nothing, to keep his ſpirits awake. He one time poſſeſſed patriotiſm, but he knew not what it was to feel honeſt indignation; and pretended to be an advocate for liberty, when, with as little affection for the human race as for individuals, he thought of nothing but his own gratification. He was juſt ſuch a citizen, as a father. The ſums he adroitly obtained by a violation of the laws of his country, as well as thoſe of humanity, he would allow a miſtreſs to ſquander; though ſhe was, with the ſame ſang froid, conſigned, as were his children, to poverty, when another proved more attractive.

"On various pretences, his friend continued to viſit me; and, obſerving my want of money, he tried to induce me to accept of pecuniary aid; but this offer I abſolutely rejected, though it was made with ſuch delicacy, I could not be diſpleaſed.

"One day he came, as I thought accidentally, to dinner. My huſband was very much engaged in buſineſs, and quitted the room ſoon after the cloth was removed. We converſed as uſual, till confidential advice led again to love. I was extremely mortified. I had a ſincere regard for him, and hoped that he had an equal friendſhip for me. I therefore began mildly to expoſtulate with him. This gentle neſs he miſtook for coy encouragement; and he would not be diverted from the ſubject. Perceiving his miſtake, I ſeriouſly aſked him how, uſing ſuch language to me, he could profeſs to be my huſband's friend? A ſignificant ſneer excited my curioſity, and he, ſuppoſing this to be my only ſcruple, took a letter deliberately out of his pocket, ſaying, 'Your huſband's honour is not inflexible. How could you, with your diſcernment, think it ſo? Why, he left the room this very day on purpoſe to give me an opportunity to explain myſelf; he thought me too timid—too tardy.'

"I ſnatched the letter with indeſcribable emotion. The purport of it was to invite him to dinner, and to ridicule his chivalrous reſpect for me. He aſſured him, 'that every woman had her price, and, with groſs indecency, hinted, that he ſhould be glad to have the duty of a huſband taken off his hands. Theſe he termed liberal ſentiments. He adviſed him not to ſhock my romantic notions, but to attack my credulous generoſity, and weak pity; and concluded with requeſting him to lend him five hundred pounds for a month or ſix weeks.' I read this letter twice over; and the firm purpoſe it inſpired, calmed the riſing tumult of my ſoul. I roſe deliberately, requeſted Mr. S—— to wait a moment, and inſtantly going into the counting-houſe, deſired Mr. Venables to return with me to the dining-parlour.

"He laid down his pen, and entered with me, without obſerving any change in my countenance. I ſhut the door, and, giving him the letter, ſimply aſked, 'whether he wrote it, or was it a forgery?'

"Nothing could equal his confuſion. His friend's eye met his, and he muttered ſomething about a joke—But I interrupted him—'It is ſufficient—We part for ever.'

"I continued, with ſolemnity, 'I have borne with your tyranny and infidelities. I diſdain to utter what I have borne with. I thought you unprincipled, but not ſo decidedly vicious. I formed a tie, in the ſight of heaven—I have held it ſacred; even when men, more conformable to my taſte, have made me feel—I deſpiſe all ſubterfuge!—that I was not dead to love. Neglected by you, I have reſolutely ſtifled the enticing emotions, and reſpected the plighted faith you outraged. And you dare now to inſult me, by ſelling me to proſtitution!—Yes—equally loſt to delicacy and principle—you dared ſacrilegiouſly to barter the honour of the mother of your child.'

"Then, turning to Mr. S——, I added, 'I call on you, Sir, to witneſs,' and I lifted my hands and eyes to heaven, 'that, as ſolemnly as I took his name, I now abjure it,' I pulled off my ring, and put it on the table; 'and that I mean immediately to quit his houſe, never to enter it more. I will provide for myſelf and child. I leave him as free as I am determined to be myſelf—he ſhall be anſwerable for no debts of mine.'

"Aſtoniſhment cloſed their lips, till Mr. Venables, gently puſhing his friend, with a forced ſmile, out of the room, nature for a moment prevailed, and, appearing like himſelf, he turned round, burning with rage, to me: but there was no terror in the frown, excepting when contraſted with the malignant ſmile which preceded it. He bade me 'leave the houſe at my peril; told me he deſpiſed my threats; I had no reſource; I could not ſwear the peace againſt him!—I was not afraid of my life!—he had never ſtruck me!'

"He threw the letter in the fire, which I had incautiouſly left in his hands; and, quitting the room, locked the door on me.

"When left alone, I was a moment or two before I could recollect myſelf. One ſcene had ſucceeded another with ſuch rapidity, I almoſt doubted whether I was reflecting on a real event. 'Was it poſſible? Was I, indeed, free?'—Yes; free I termed myſelf, when I decidedly perceived the conduct I ought to adopt. How had I panted for liberty—liberty, that I would have purchaſed at any price, but that of my own eſteem! I roſe, and ſhook myſelf; opened the window, and methought the air never ſmelled ſo ſweet. The face of heaven grew fairer as I viewed it, and the clouds ſeemed to flit away obedient to my wiſhes, to give my ſoul room to expand. I was all ſoul, and (wild as it may appear) felt as if I could have diſſolved in the ſoft balmy gale that kiſſed my cheek, or have glided below the horizon on the glowing, deſcending beams. A ſeraphic ſatiſfaction animated, without agitating my ſpirits; and my imagination collected, in viſions ſublimely terrible, or ſoothingly beautiful, an immenſe variety of the endleſs images, which nature affords, and fancy combines, of the grand and fair. The luſtre of theſe bright pictureſque ſketches faded with the ſetting ſun; but I was ſtill alive to the calm delight they had diffuſed through my heart.

"There may be advocates for matrimonial obedience, who, making a diſtinction between the duty of a wife and of a human being, may blame my conduct.—To them I write not—my feelings are not for them to analyze; and may you, my child, never be able to aſcertain, by heart-rending experience, what your mother felt before the preſent emancipation of her mind!

"I began to write a letter to my father, after cloſing one to my uncle; not to aſk advice, but to ſignify my determination; when I was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Venables. His manner was changed. His views on my uncle's fortune made him averſe to my quitting his houſe, or he would, I am convinced, have been glad to have ſhaken off even the ſlight reſtraint my preſence impoſed on him; the reſtraint of ſhowing me ſome reſpect. So far from having an affection for me, he really hated me, becauſe he was convinced that I muſt deſpiſe him.

"He told me, that, 'As I now had had time to cool and reflect, he did not doubt but that my prudence, and nice ſenſe of propriety, would lead me to overlook what was paſſed.'

"'Reflection,' I replied, 'had only confirmed my purpoſe, and no power on earth could divert me from it.'

"Endeavouring to aſſume a ſoothing voice and look, when he would willingly have tortured me, to force me to feel his power, his countenance had an infernal expreſſion, when he deſired me, 'Not to expoſe myſelf to the ſervants, by obliging him to confine me in my apartment; if then I would give my promiſe not to quit the houſe precipitately, I ſhould be free—and—.' I declared, interrupting him, 'that I would promiſe nothing. I had no meaſures to keep with him—I was reſolved, and would not condeſcend to ſubterfuge.'

"He muttered, 'that I ſhould ſoon repent of theſe prepoſterous airs;' and, ordering tea to be carried into my little ſtudy, which had a communication with my bed-chamber, he once more locked the door upon me, and left me to my own meditations. I had paſſively followed him up ſtairs, not wiſhing to fatigue myſelf with unavailing exertion.

"Nothing calms the mind like a fixed purpoſe. I felt as if I had heaved a thouſand weight from my heart; the atmoſphere ſeemed lightened; and, if I execrated the inſtitutions of ſociety, which thus enable men to tyrannize over women, it was almoſt a diſintereſted ſentiment. I diſregarded preſent inconveniences, when my mind had done ſtruggling with itſelf,—when reaſon and inclination had ſhaken hands and were at peace. I had no longer the cruel taſk before me, in endleſs perſpective, aye, during the tedious for ever of life, of labouring to overcome my repugnance—of labouring to extinguiſh the hopes, the maybes of a lively imagination. Death I had hailed as my only chance for deliverance; but, while exiſtence had ſtill ſo many charms, and life promiſed happineſs, I ſhrunk from the icy arms of an unknown tyrant, though far more inviting than thoſe of the man, to whom I ſuppoſed myſelf bound without any other alternative; and was content to linger a little longer, waiting for I knew not what, rather than leave 'the warm precincts of the cheerful day,' and all the unenjoyed affection of my nature.

"My preſent ſituation gave a new turn to my reflection; and I wondered (now the film ſeemed to be withdrawn, that obſcured the piercing ſight of reaſon) how I could, previouſly to the deciding outrage, have conſidered myſelf as everlaſtingly united to vice and folly? 'Had an evil genius caſt a ſpell at my birth; or a demon ſtalked out of chaos, to perplex my underſtanding, and enchain my will, with deluſive prejudices?'

"I purſued this train of thinking; it led me out of myſelf, to expatiate on the miſery peculiar to my ſex. 'Are not,' I thought, 'the deſpots for ever ſtigmatized, who, in the wantonneſs of power, commanded even the moſt atrocious criminals to be chained to dead bodies? though ſurely thoſe laws are much more inhuman, which forge adamantine fetters to bind minds together, that never can mingle in ſocial communion! What indeed can equal the wretchedneſs of that ſtate, in which there is no alternative, but to extinguiſh the affections, or encounter infamy?'

CHAP. XII.

"Towards midnight Mr. Venables entered my chamber; and, with calm audacity preparing to go to bed, he bade me make haſte, 'for that was the beſt place for huſbands and wives to end their differences. He had been drinking plentifully to aid his courage.

"I did not at firſt deign to reply. But perceiving that he affected to take my ſilence for conſent, I told him that, 'If he would not go to another bed, or allow me, I ſhould ſit up in my ſtudy all night.' He attempted to pull me into the chamber, half joking. But I reſiſted; and, as he had determined not to give me any reaſon for ſaying that he uſed violence, after a few more ef forts, he retired, curſing my obſtinacy, to bed.

"I ſat muſing ſome time longer; then, throwing my cloak around me, prepared for ſleep on a ſopha. And, ſo fortunate ſeemed my deliverance, ſo ſacred the pleaſure of being thus wrapped up in myſelf, that I ſlept profoundly, and woke with a mind compoſed to encounter the ſtruggles of the day. Mr. Venables did not wake till ſome hours after; and then he came to me half-dreſſed, yawning and ſtretching, with haggard eyes, as if he ſcarcely recollected what had paſſed the preceding evening. He fixed his eyes on me for a moment, then, calling me a fool, aſked 'How long I intended to continue this pretty farce? For his part, he was deviliſh ſick of it; but this was the plague of marrying women who pretended to know ſomething.'

"I made no other reply to this harangue, than to ſay, 'That he ought to be glad to get rid of a woman ſo unfit to be his companion—and that any change in my conduct would be mean diſſimulation; for maturer reflection only gave the ſacred ſeal of reaſon to my firſt reſolution.'

"He looked as if he could have ſtamped with impatience, at being obliged to ſtifle his rage; but, conquering his anger (for weak people, whoſe paſſions ſeem the moſt ungovernable, reſtrain them with the greateſt eaſe, when they have a ſufficient motive), he exclaimed, 'Very pretty, upon my ſoul! very pretty, theatrical flouriſhes! Pray, fair Roxana, ſtoop from your altitudes, and remember that you are acting a part in real life.'

"He uttered this ſpeech with a ſelf-ſatiſfied air, and went down ſtairs to dreſs.

"In about an hour he came to me again; and in the ſame tone ſaid, 'That he came as my gentleman-uſher to hand me down to breakfaſt.

"'Of the black rod?' aſked I.

"This queſtion, and the tone in which I aſked it, a little diſconcerted him. To ſay the truth, I now felt no reſentment; my firm reſolution to free myſelf from my ignoble thraldom, had abſorbed the various emotions which, during ſix years, had racked my ſoul. The duty pointed out by my principles ſeemed clear; and not one tender feeling intruded to make me ſwerve: The diſlike which my huſband had inſpired was ſtrong; but it only led me to wiſh to avoid, to wiſh to let him drop out of my memory; there was no miſery, no torture that I would not deliberately have choſen, rather than renew my leaſe of ſervitude.

"During the breakfaſt, he attempted to reaſon with me on the folly of romantic ſentiments; for this was the indiſcriminate epithet he gave to every mode of conduct or thinking ſuperior to his own. He aſſerted, 'that all the world were governed by their own intereſt; thoſe who pretended to be actuated by different motives, were only deeper knaves, or fools crazed by books, who took for goſpel all the rodomantade nonſenſe written by men who knew nothing of the world. For his part, he thanked God, he was no hypocrite; and, if he ſtretched a point ſometimes, it was always with an intention of paying every man his own.'

"He then artfully inſinuated, 'that he daily expected a veſſel to arrive, a ſucceſſful ſpeculation, that would make him eaſy for the preſent, and that he had ſeveral other ſchemes actually depending, that could not fail. He had no doubt of becoming rich in a few years, though he had been thrown back by ſome unlucky adventures at the ſetting out.'

"I mildly replied, 'That I wiſhed he might not involve himſelf ſtill deeper.'

"He had no notion that I was governed by a deciſion of judgment, not to be compared with a mere ſpurt of reſentment. He knew not what it was to feel indignation againſt vice, and often boaſted of his placable temper, and readineſs to forgive injuries. True; for he only conſidered the being deceived, as an effort of ſkill he had not guarded againſt; and then, with a cant of candour, would obſerve, 'that he did not know how he might himſelf have been tempted to act in the ſame circumſtances.' And, as his heart never opened to friendſhip, it never was wounded by diſappointment. Every new acquaintance he proteſted, it is true, was 'the clevereſt fellow in the world;' and he really thought ſo; till the novelty of his converſation or manners ceaſed to have any effect on his ſluggiſh ſpirits. His reſpect for rank or fortune was more permanent, though he chanced to have no deſign of availing himſelf of the influence of either to promote his own views.

"After a prefatory converſation,—my blood (I thought it had been cooler) fluſhed over my whole countenance as he ſpoke—he alluded to my ſituation. He deſired me to reflect—'and act like a prudent woman, as the beſt proof of my ſuperior underſtanding; for he muſt own I had ſenſe, did I know how to uſe it. I was not,' he laid a ſtreſs on his words, 'without my paſſions; and a huſband was a convenient cloke.—He was liberal in his way of thinking; and why might not we, like many other married people, who were above vulgar prejudices, tacitly conſent to let each other follow their own inclination?—He meant nothing more, in the letter I made the ground of complaint; and the pleaſure which I ſeemed to take in Mr. S.'s company, led him to conclude, that he was not diſagreeable to me.'

"A clerk brought in the letters of the day, and I, as I often did, while he was diſcuſſing ſubjects of buſineſs, went to the piano forte, and began to play a favourite air to reſtore myſelf, as it were, to nature, and drive the ſophiſticated ſentiments I had juſt been obliged to liſten to, out of my ſoul.

"They had excited ſenſations ſimilar to thoſe I have felt, in viewing the ſqualid inhabitants of ſome of the lanes and back ſtreets of the metropolis, mortified at being compelled to conſider them as my fellow-creatures, as if an ape had claimed kindred with me. Or, as when ſurrounded by a mephitical fog, I have wiſhed to have a volley of cannon fired, to clear the incumbered atmoſphere, and give me room to breathe and move.

"My ſpirits were all in arms, and I played a kind of extemporary prelude. The cadence was probably wild and impaſſioned, while, loſt in thought, I made the ſounds a kind of echo to my train of thinking.

"Pauſing for a moment, I met Mr. Venables' eyes. He was obſerving me with an air of conceited ſatiſfaction, as much as to ſay—'My laſt inſinuation has done the buſineſs—ſhe begins to know her own intereſt.' Then gathering up his letters, he ſaid, 'That he hoped he ſhould hear no more romantic ſtuff, well enough in a miſs juſt come from boarding ſchool;' and went, as was his cuſtom, to the counting-houſe. I ſtill continued playing; and, turning to a ſprightly leſſon, I executed it with uncommon vivacity. I heard footſteps approach the door, and was ſoon convinced that Mr. Venables was liſtening; the conſciouſneſs only gave more animation to my fingers. He went down into the kit chen, and the cook, probably by his deſire, came to me, to know what I would pleaſe to order for dinner. Mr. Venables came into the parlour again, with apparent careleſſneſs. I perceived that the cunning man was over-reaching himſelf; and I gave my directions as uſual, and left the room.

"While I was making ſome alteration in my dreſs, Mr. Venables peeped in, and, begging my pardon for interrupting me, diſappeared. I took up ſome work (I could not read), and two or three meſſages were ſent to me, probably for no other purpoſe, but to enable Mr. Venables to aſcertain what I was about.

"I liſtened whenever I heard the ſtreet-door open; at laſt I imagined I could diſtinguiſh Mr. Venables' ſtep, going out. I laid aſide my work; my heart palpitated; ſtill I was afraid haſtily to enquire; and I waited a long half hour, before I ventured to aſk the boy whether his maſter was in the counting-houſe?

"Being anſwered in the negative, I bade him call me a coach, and collecting a few neceſſaries haſtily together, with a little parcel of letters and papers which I had collected the preceding evening, I hurried into it, deſiring the coachman to drive to a diſtant part of the town.

"I almoſt feared that the coach would break down before I got out of the ſtreet; and, when I turned the corner, I ſeemed to breathe a freer air. I was ready to imagine that I was riſing above the thick atmoſphere of earth; or I felt, as wearied ſouls might be ſup poſed to feel on entering another ſtate of exiſtence.

"I ſtopped at one or two ſtands of coaches to elude purſuit, and then drove round the ſkirts of the town to ſeek for an obſcure lodging, where I wiſhed to remain concealed, till I could avail myſelf of my uncle's protection. I had reſolved to aſſume my own name immediately, and openly to avow my determination, without any formal vindication, the moment I had found a home, in which I could reſt free from the daily alarm of expecting to ſee Mr. Venables enter.

"I looked at ſeveral lodgings; but finding that I could not, without a reference to ſome acquaintance, who might inform my tyrant, get admittance into a decent apartment—men have not all this trouble—I thought of a woman whom I had aſſiſted to furniſh a little haberdaſher's ſhop, and who I knew had a firſt floor to let.

"I went to her, and though I could not perſuade her, that the quarrel between me and Mr. Venables would never be made up, ſtill ſhe agreed to conceal me for the preſent; yet aſſuring me at the ſame time, ſhaking her head, that, when a woman was once married, ſhe muſt bear every thing. Her pale face, on which appeared a thouſand haggard lines and delving wrinkles, produced by what is emphatically termed fretting, inforced her remark; and I had afterwards an opportunity of obſerving the treatment ſhe had to endure, which grizzled her into patience. She toiled from morning till night; yet her huſband would rob the till, and take away the money re ſerved for paying bills; and, returning home drunk, he would beat her if ſhe chanced to offend him, though ſhe had a child at the breaſt.

"Theſe ſcenes awoke me at night; and, in the morning, I heard her, as uſual, talk to her dear Johnny—he, forſooth, was her maſter; no ſlave in the Weſt Indies had one more deſpotic; but fortunately ſhe was of the true Ruſſian breed of wives.

"My mind, during the few paſt days, ſeemed, as it were, diſengaged from my body; but, now the ſtruggle was over, I felt very forcibly the effect which perturbation of ſpirits produces on a woman in my ſituation.

"The apprehenſion of a miſcarriage, obliged me to confine myſelf to my apartment near a fortnight; but I wrote to my uncle's friend for money, promiſing 'to call on him, and explain my ſituation, when I was well enough to go out; mean time I earneſtly intreated him, not to mention my place of abode to any one, leſt my huſband—ſuch the law conſidered him—ſhould diſturb the mind he could not conquer. I mentioned my intention of ſetting out for Liſbon, to claim my uncle's protection, the moment my health would permit.'

"The tranquillity however, which I was recovering, was ſoon interrupted. My landlady came up to me one day, with eyes ſwollen with weeping, unable to utter what ſhe was commanded to ſay. She declared, 'That ſhe was never ſo miſerable in her life; that ſhe muſt appear an ungrateful monſter; and that ſhe would readily go down on her knees to me, to intreat me to forgive her, as ſhe had done to her huſband to ſpare her the cruel taſk.' Sobs prevented her from proceeding, or anſwering my impatient enquiries, to know what ſhe meant.

"When ſhe became a little more compoſed, ſhe took a newſpaper out of her pocket, declaring, 'that her heart ſmote her, but what could ſhe do?—ſhe muſt obey her huſband.' I ſnatched the paper from her. An advertiſement quickly met my eye, purporting, that 'Maria Venables had, without any aſſignable cauſe, abſconded from her huſband; and any perſon harbouring her, was menaced with the utmoſt ſeverity of the law.'

"Perfectly acquainted with Mr. Venables' meanneſs of ſoul, this ſtep did not excite my ſurpriſe, and ſcarcely my contempt. Reſentment in my breaſt, never ſurvived love. I bade the poor woman, in a kind tone, wipe her eyes, and requeſt her huſband to come up, and ſpeak to me himſelf.

"My manner awed him. He reſpected a lady, though not a woman; and began to mutter out an apology.

"'Mr. Venables was a rich gentleman; he wiſhed to oblige me, but he had ſuffered enough by the law already, to tremble at the thought; beſides, for certain, we ſhould come together again, and then even I ſhould not thank him for being acceſſary to keeping us aſunder.—A huſband and wife were, God knows, juſt as one,—and all would come round at laſt.' He uttered a drawling 'Hem!' and then with an arch look, added—'Maſter might have had his little frolics—but —Lord bleſs your heart!—men would be men while the world ſtands.'

"To argue with this privileged firſt-born of reaſon, I perceived, would be vain. I therefore only requeſted him to let me remain another day at his houſe, while I ſought for a lodging; and not to inform Mr. Venables that I had ever been ſheltered there.

"He conſented, becauſe he had not the courage to refuſe a perſon for whom he had an habitual reſpect; but I heard the pent-up choler burſt forth in curſes, when he met his wife, who was waiting impatiently at the foot of the ſtairs, to know what effect my expoſtulations would have on him.

"Without waſting any time in the fruitleſs indulgence of vexation, I once more ſet out in ſearch of an abode in which I could hide myſelf for a few weeks.

"Agreeing to pay an exorbitant price, I hired an apartment, without any reference being required relative to my character: indeed, a glance at my ſhape ſeemed to ſay, that my motive for concealment was ſufficiently obvious. Thus was I obliged to ſhroud my head in infamy.

"To avoid all danger of detection—I uſe the appropriate word, my child, for I was hunted out like a felon—I determined to take poſſeſſion of my new lodgings that very evening.

"I did not inform my landlady where I was going. I knew that ſhe had a ſincere affection for me, and would willingly have run any riſk to ſhow her gratitude; yet I was fully convinced, that a few kind words from Johnny would have found the woman in her, and her dear benefactreſs, as ſhe termed me in an agony of tears, would have been ſacrificed, to recompenſe her tyrant for condeſcending to treat her like an equal. He could be kind-hearted, as ſhe expreſſed it, when he pleaſed. And this thawed ſternneſs, contraſted with his habitual brutality, was the more acceptable, and could not be purchaſed at too dear a rate.

"The ſight of the advertiſement made me deſirous of taking refuge with my uncle, let what would be the conſequence; and I repaired in a hackney coach (afraid of meeting ſome perſon who might chance to know me, had I walked) to the chambers of my uncle's friend.

"He received me with great polite neſs (my uncle had already prepoſſeſſed him in my favour), and liſtened, with intereſt, to my explanation of the motives which had induced me to fly from home, and ſkulk in obſcurity, with all the timidity of fear that ought only to be the companion of guilt. He lamented, with rather more gallantry than, in my ſituation, I thought delicate, that ſuch a woman ſhould be thrown away on a man inſenſible to the charms of beauty or grace. He ſeemed at a loſs what to adviſe me to do, to evade my huſband's ſearch, without haſtening to my uncle, whom, he heſitating ſaid, I might not find alive. He uttered this intelligence with viſible regret; requeſted me, at leaſt, to wait for the arrival of the next packet; offered me what money I wanted, and promiſed to viſit me.

"He kept his word; ſtill no letter arrived to put an end to my painful ſtate of ſuſpenſe. I procured ſome books and muſic, to beguile the tedious ſolitary days.

'Come, ever ſmiling Liberty,
'And with thee bring thy jocund train:'

I ſung—and ſung till, ſaddened by the ſtrain of joy, I bitterly lamented the fate that deprived me of all ſocial pleaſure. Comparative liberty indeed I had poſſeſſed myſelf of; but the jocund train lagged far behind!

CHAP. XIII.

"By watching my only viſitor, my uncle's friend, or by ſome other means, Mr. Venables diſcovered my reſidence, and came to enquire for me. The maid-ſervant aſſured him there was no ſuch perſon in the houſe. A buſtle enſued—I caught the alarm—liſtened—diſtinguiſhed his voice, and immediately locked the door. They ſuddenly grew ſtill; and I waited near a quarter of an hour, before I heard him open the parlour door, and mount the ſtairs with the miſtreſs of the houſe, who obſequiouſly declared that ſhe knew nothing of me.

"Finding my door locked, ſhe requeſted me to 'open it, and prepare to go home with my huſband, poor gentleman! to whom I had already occaſioned ſufficient vexation.' I made no reply. Mr. Venables then, in an aſſumed tone of ſoftneſs, intreated me, 'to conſider what he ſuffered, and my own reputation, and get the better of childiſh reſentment.' He ran on in the ſame ſtrain, pretending to addreſs me, but evidently adapting his diſcourſe to the capacity of the landlady; who, at every pauſe, uttered an exclamation of pity; or 'Yes, to be ſure—Very true, ſir.'

"Sick of the farce, and perceiving that I could not avoid the hated interview, I opened the door, and he entered. Advancing with eaſy aſſurance to take my hand, I ſhrunk from his touch, with an involuntary ſtart, as I ſhould have done from a noiſome reptile, with more diſguſt than terror. His conductreſs was retiring, to give us, as ſhe ſaid, an opportunity to accommodate matters. But I bade her come in, or I would go out; and curioſity impelled her to obey me.

"Mr. Venables began to expoſtulate; and this woman, proud of his confidence, to ſecond him. But I calmly ſilenced her, in the midſt of a vulgar harangue, and turning to him, aſked, 'Why he vainly tormented me? declaring that no power on earth ſhould force me back to his houſe.'

"After a long altercation, the particulars of which, it would be to no purpoſe to repeat, he left the room. Some time was ſpent in loud converſation in the parlour below, and I diſcovered that he had brought his friend, an attorney, with him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

* * The tumult on the landing place, brought out a gentleman, who had recently taken apartments in the houſe; he enquired why I was thus aſſailed [91-A]? The voluble attorney inſtantly repeated the trite tale. The ſtranger turned to me, obſerving, with the moſt ſoothing politeneſs and manly intereſt, that 'my countenance told a very different ſtory.' He added, 'that I ſhould not be inſulted, or forced out of the houſe, by any body.'

"'Not by her huſband?' aſked the attorney.

"'No, ſir, not by her huſband.' Mr. Venables advanced towards him—But there was a deciſion in his attitude, that ſo well ſeconded that of his voice,

* * * * * * * * * * * *

* * They left the houſe: at the ſame time proteſting, that any one that ſhould dare to protect me, ſhould be proſecuted with the utmoſt rigour.

"They were ſcarcely out of the houſe, when my landlady came up to me again, and begged my pardon, in a very different tone. For, though Mr. Venables had bid her, at her peril, harbour me, he had not attended, I found, to her broad hints, to diſcharge the lodging. I inſtantly promiſed to pay her, and make her a preſent to compenſate for my abrupt departure, if ſhe would procure me another lodging, at a ſufficient diſtance; and ſhe, in return, repeating Mr. Venables' plauſible tale, I raiſed her indignation, and excited her ſympathy, by telling her briefly the truth.

"She expreſſed her commiſeration with ſuch honeſt warmth, that I felt ſoothed; for I have none of that faſtidious ſenſitiveneſs, which a vulgar accent or geſture can alarm to the diſregard of real kindneſs. I was ever glad to perceive in others the humane feelings I delighted to exerciſe; and the recollection of ſome ridiculous charac teriſtic circumſtances, which have occurred in a moment of emotion, has convulſed me with laughter, though at the inſtant I ſhould have thought it ſacrilegious to have ſmiled. Your improvement, my deareſt girl, being ever preſent to me while I write, I note theſe feelings, becauſe women, more accuſtomed to obſerve manners than actions, are too much alive to ridicule. So much ſo, that their boaſted ſenſibility is often ſtifled by falſe delicacy. True ſenſibility, the ſenſibility which is the auxiliary of virtue, and the ſoul of genius, is in ſociety ſo occupied with the feelings of others, as ſcarcely to regard its own ſenſations. With what reverence have I looked up at my uncle, the dear parent of my mind! when I have ſeen the ſenſe of his own ſufferings, of mind and body, abſorbed in a deſire to comfort thoſe, whoſe miſfortunes were comparatively trivial. He would have been aſhamed of being as indulgent to himſelf, as he was to others. 'Genuine fortitude,' he would aſſert, 'conſiſted in governing our own emotions, and making allowance for the weakneſſes in our friends, that we would not tolerate in ourſelves.' But where is my fond regret leading me!

"'Women muſt be ſubmiſſive,' ſaid my landlady. 'Indeed what could moſt women do? Who had they to maintain them, but their huſbands? Every woman, and eſpecially a lady, could not go through rough and ſmooth, as ſhe had done, to earn a little bread.'

"She was in a talking mood, and proceeded to inform me how ſhe had been uſed in the world. 'She knew what it was to have a bad huſband, or ſhe did not know who ſhould.' I perceived that ſhe would be very much mortified, were I not to attend to her tale, and I did not attempt to interrupt her, though I wiſhed her, as ſoon as poſſible, to go out in ſearch of a new abode for me, where I could once more hide my head.

"She began by telling me, 'That ſhe had ſaved a little money in ſervice; and was over-perſuaded (we muſt all be in love once in our lives) to marry a likely man, a footman in the family, not worth a groat. My plan,' ſhe continued, 'was to take a houſe, and let out lodgings; and all went on well, till my huſband got acquainted with an impudent ſlut, who choſe to live on other people's means—and then all went to rack and ruin. He ran in debt to buy her fine clothes, ſuch clothes as I never thought of wearing myſelf, and—would you believe it?—he ſigned an execution on my very goods, bought with the money I worked ſo hard to get; and they came and took my bed from under me, before I heard a word of the matter. Aye, madam, theſe are miſfortunes that you gentlefolks know nothing of,—but ſorrow is ſorrow, let it come which way it will.

"'I ſought for a ſervice again—very hard, after having a houſe of my own!—but he uſed to follow me, and kick up ſuch a riot when he was drunk, that I could not keep a place; nay, he even ſtole my clothes, and pawned them; and when I went to the pawnbroker's, and offered to take my oath that they were not bought with a farthing of his money, they ſaid, 'It was all as one, my huſband had a right to whatever I had.'

"'At laſt he liſted for a ſoldier, and I took a houſe, making an agreement to pay for the furniture by degrees; and I almoſt ſtarved myſelf, till I once more got before-hand in the world.

"'After an abſence of ſix years (God forgive me! I thought he was dead) my huſband returned; found me out, and came with ſuch a penitent face, I forgave him, and clothed him from head to foot. But he had not been a week in the houſe, before ſome of his creditors arreſted him; and, he ſelling my goods, I found myſelf once more reduced to beggary; for I was not as well able to work, go to bed late, and riſe early, as when I quitted ſervice; and then I thought it hard enough. He was ſoon tired of me, when there was nothing more to be had, and left me again.

"'I will not tell you how I was buffeted about, till, hearing for certain that he had died in an hoſpital abroad, I once more returned to my old occupation; but have not yet been able to get my head above water: ſo, madam, you muſt not be angry if I am afraid to run any riſk, when I know ſo well, that women have always the worſt of it, when law is to decide.'

"After uttering a few more complaints, I prevailed on my landlady to go out in queſt of a lodging; and, to be more ſecure, I condeſcended to the mean ſhift of changing my name.

"But why ſhould I dwell on ſimilar incidents!—I was hunted, like an infected beaſt, from three different apartments, and ſhould not have been al lowed to reſt in any, had not Mr. Venables, informed of my uncle's dangerous ſtate of health, been inſpired with the fear of hurrying me out of the world as I advanced in my pregnancy, by thus tormenting and obliging me to take ſudden journeys to avoid him; and then his ſpeculations on my uncle's fortune muſt prove abortive.

"One day, when he had purſued me to an inn, I fainted, hurrying from him; and, falling down, the ſight of my blood alarmed him, and obtained a reſpite for me. It is ſtrange that he ſhould have retained any hope, after obſerving my unwavering determination; but, from the mildneſs of my behaviour, when I found all my endeavours to change his diſpoſition unavailing, he formed an erroneous opinion of my character, imagining that, were we once more together, I ſhould part with the money he could not legally force from me, with the ſame facility as formerly. My forbearance and occaſional ſympathy he had miſtaken for weakneſs of character; and, becauſe he perceived that I diſliked reſiſtance, he thought my indulgence and compaſſion mere ſelfiſhneſs, and never diſcovered that the fear of being unjuſt, or of unneceſſarily wounding the feelings of another, was much more painful to me, than any thing I could have to endure myſelf. Perhaps it was pride which made me imagine, that I could bear what I dreaded to inflict; and that it was often eaſier to ſuffer, than to ſee the ſufferings of others.

"I forgot to mention that, during this perſecution, I received a letter from my uncle, informing me, 'that he only found relief from continual change of air; and that he intended to return when the ſpring was a little more advanced (it was now the middle of February), and then we would plan a journey to Italy, leaving the fogs and cares of England far behind.' He approved of my conduct, promiſed to adopt my child, and ſeemed to have no doubt of obliging Mr. Venables to hear reaſon. He wrote to his friend, by the ſame poſt, deſiring him to call on Mr. Venables in his name; and, in conſequence of the remonſtrances he dictated, I was permitted to lie-in tranquilly.

"The two or three weeks previous, I had been allowed to reſt in peace; but, ſo accuſtomed was I to purſuit and alarm, that I ſeldom cloſed my eyes without being haunted by Mr. Venables' image, who ſeemed to aſſume terrific or hateful forms to torment me, wherever I turned.—Sometimes a wild cat, a roaring bull, or hideous aſſaſſin, whom I vainly attempted to fly; at others he was a demon, hurrying me to the brink of a precipice, plunging me into dark waves, or horrid gulfs; and I woke, in violent fits of trembling anxiety, to aſſure myſelf that it was all a dream, and to endeavour to lure my waking thoughts to wander to the delightful Italian vales, I hoped ſoon to viſit; or to picture ſome auguſt ruins, where I reclined in fancy on a mouldering column, and eſcaped, in the contemplation of the heart-enlarging virtues of antiquity, from the turmoil of cares that had depreſſed all the daring purpoſes of my ſoul. But I was not long allowed to calm my mind by the exerciſe of my imagination; for the third day after your birth, my child, I was ſurpriſed by a viſit from my elder brother; who came in the moſt abrupt manner, to inform me of the death of my uncle. He had left the greater part of his fortune to my child, appointing me its guardian; in ſhort, every ſtep was taken to enable me to be miſtreſs of his fortune, without putting any part of it in Mr. Venables' power. My brother came to vent his rage on me, for having, as he expreſſed himſelf, 'deprived him, my uncle's eldeſt nephew, of his inheritance;' though my uncle's property, the fruit of his own exertion, being all in the funds, or on landed ſecurities, there was not a ſhadow of juſtice in the charge.

"As I ſincerely loved my uncle, this intelligence brought on a fever, which I ſtruggled to conquer with all the energy of my mind; for, in my deſolate ſtate, I had it very much at heart to ſuckle you, my poor babe. You ſeemed my only tie to life, a cherub, to whom I wiſhed to be a father, as well as a mother; and the double duty appeared to me to produce a proportionate increaſe of affection. But the pleaſure I felt, while ſuſtaining you, ſnatched from the wreck of hope, was cruelly damped by melancholy reflections on my widowed ſtate—widowed by the death of my uncle. Of Mr. Venables I thought not, even when I thought of the felicity of loving your father, and how a mother's pleaſure might be exalted, and her care ſoftened by a huſband's tenderneſs.—'Ought to be!' I exclaimed; and I endeavoured to drive away the tenderneſs that ſuffo cated me; but my ſpirits were weak, and the unbidden tears would flow. 'Why was I,' I would aſk thee, but thou didſt not heed me,—'cut off from the participation of the ſweeteſt pleaſure of life?' I imagined with what extacy, after the pains of child-bed, I ſhould have preſented my little ſtranger, whom I had ſo long wiſhed to view, to a reſpectable father, and with what maternal fondneſs I ſhould have preſſed them both to my heart!—Now I kiſſed her with leſs delight, though with the moſt endearing compaſſion, poor helpleſs one! when I perceived a ſlight reſemblance of him, to whom ſhe owed her exiſtence; or, if any geſture reminded me of him, even in his beſt days, my heart heaved, and I preſſed the innocent to my boſom, as if to purify it—yes, I bluſhed to think that its purity had been ſullied, by allowing ſuch a man to be its father.

"After my recovery, I began to think of taking a houſe in the country, or of making an excurſion on the continent, to avoid Mr. Venables; and to open my heart to new pleaſures and affection. The ſpring was melting into ſummer, and you, my little companion, began to ſmile—that ſmile made hope bud out afreſh, aſſuring me the world was not a deſert. Your geſtures were ever preſent to my fancy; and I dwelt on the joy I ſhould feel when you would begin to walk and liſp. Watching your wakening mind, and ſhielding from every rude blaſt my tender bloſſom, I recovered my ſpirits—I dreamed not of the froſt —'the killing froſt,' to which you were deſtined to be expoſed.—But I loſe all patience—and execrate the injuſtice of the world—folly! ignorance!—I ſhould rather call it; but, ſhut up from a free circulation of thought, and always pondering on the ſame griefs, I writhe under the torturing apprehenſions, which ought to excite only honeſt indignation, or active compaſſion; and would, could I view them as the natural conſequence of things. But, born a woman—and born to ſuffer, in endeavouring to repreſs my own emotions, I feel more acutely the various ills my ſex are fated to bear—I feel that the evils they are ſubject to endure, degrade them ſo far below their oppreſſors, as almoſt to juſtify their tyranny; leading at the ſame time ſuperficial reaſoners to term that weakneſs the cauſe, which is only the conſequence of ſhort-ſighted deſpotiſm.

FOOTNOTES:

[91-A] The introduction of Darnford as the deliverer of Maria, in an early ſtage of the hiſtory, is already ſtated (Chap. III.) to have been an after-thought of the author. This has probably cauſed the imperfectneſs of the manuſcript in the above paſſage; though, at the ſame time, it muſt be acknowledged to be ſomewhat uncertain, whether Darnford is the ſtranger intended in this place. It appears from Chap. XVII. that an interference of a more deciſive nature was deſigned to be attributed to him.

editor.

CHAP. XIV.

"As my mind grew calmer, the viſions of Italy again returned with their former glow of colouring; and I reſolved on quitting the kingdom for a time, in ſearch of the cheerfulneſs, that naturally reſults from a change of ſcene, unleſs we carry the barbed arrow with us, and only ſee what we feel.

"During the period neceſſary to prepare for a long abſence, I ſent a ſupply to pay my father's debts, and ſettled my brothers in eligible ſituations; but my attention was not wholly engroſſed by my family, though I do not think it neceſſary to enumerate the common exertions of huma nity. The manner in which my uncle's property was ſettled, prevented me from making the addition to the fortune of my ſurviving ſiſter, that I could have wiſhed; but I had prevailed on him to bequeath her two thouſand pounds, and ſhe determined to marry a lover, to whom ſhe had been ſome time attached. Had it not been for this engagement, I ſhould have invited her to accompany me in my tour; and I might have eſcaped the pit, ſo artfully dug in my path, when I was the leaſt aware of danger.

"I had thought of remaining in England, till I weaned my child; but this ſtate of freedom was too peaceful to laſt, and I had ſoon reaſon to wiſh to haſten my departure. A friend of Mr. Venables, the ſame attorney who had accompanied him in ſeveral excur ſions to hunt me from my hiding places, waited on me to propoſe a reconciliation. On my refuſal, he indirectly adviſed me to make over to my huſband—for huſband he would term him—the greater part of the property I had at command, menacing me with continual perſecution unleſs I complied, and that, as a laſt reſort, he would claim the child. I did not, though intimidated by the laſt inſinuation, ſcruple to declare, that I would not allow him to ſquander the money left to me for far different purpoſes, but offered him five hundred pounds, if he would ſign a bond not to torment me any more. My maternal anxiety made me thus appear to waver from my firſt determination, and probably ſuggeſted to him, or his diabolical agent, the infernal plot, which has ſucceeded but too well.

"The bond was executed; ſtill I was impatient to leave England. Miſchief hung in the air when we breathed the ſame; I wanted ſeas to divide us, and waters to roll between, till he had forgotten that I had the means of helping him through a new ſcheme. Diſturbed by the late occurrences, I inſtantly prepared for my departure. My only delay was waiting for a maid-ſervant, who ſpoke French fluently, and had been warmly recommended to me. A valet I was adviſed to hire, when I fixed on my place of reſidence for any time.

"My God, with what a light heart did I ſet out for Dover!—It was not my country, but my cares, that I was leaving behind. My heart ſeemed to bound with the wheels, or rather appeared the centre on which they twirled. I claſped you to my boſom, exclaiming 'And you will be ſafe—quite ſafe—when—we are once on board the packet.—Would we were there!' I ſmiled at my idle fears, as the natural effect of continual alarm; and I ſcarcely owned to myſelf that I dreaded Mr. Venables's cunning, or was conſcious of the horrid delight he would feel, at forming ſtratagem after ſtratagem to circumvent me. I was already in the ſnare—I never reached the packet—I never ſaw thee more.—I grow breathleſs. I have ſcarcely patience to write down the details. The maid—the plauſible woman I had hired—put, doubtleſs, ſome ſtupifying potion in what I ate or drank, the morning I left town. All I know is, that ſhe muſt have quitted the chaiſe, ſhameleſs wretch! and taken (from my breaſt) my babe with her. How could a creature in a female form ſee me careſs thee, and ſteal thee from my arms! I muſt ſtop, ſtop to repreſs a mother's anguiſh; left, in bitterneſs of ſoul, I imprecate the wrath of heaven on this tiger, who tore my only comfort from me.

"How long I ſlept I know not; certainly many hours, for I woke at the cloſe of day, in a ſtrange confuſion of thought. I was probably rouſed to recollection by ſome one thundering at a huge, unwieldy gate. Attempting to aſk where I was, my voice died away, and I tried to raiſe it in vain, as I have done in a dream. I looked for my babe with affright; feared that it had fallen out of my lap, while I had ſo ſtrange ly forgotten her; and, ſuch was the vague intoxication, I can give it no other name, in which I was plunged, I could not recollect when or where I laſt ſaw you; but I ſighed, as if my heart wanted room to clear my head.

"The gates opened heavily, and the ſullen ſound of many locks and bolts drawn back, grated on my very ſoul, before I was appalled by the creeking of the diſmal hinges, as they cloſed after me. The gloomy pile was before me, half in ruins; ſome of the aged trees of the avenue were cut down, and left to rot where they fell; and as we approached ſome mouldering ſteps, a monſtrous dog darted forwards to the length of his chain, and barked and growled infernally.

"The door was opened ſlowly, and a murderous viſage peeped out, with a lantern. 'Huſh!' he uttered, in a threatning tone, and the affrighted animal ſtole back to his kennel. The door of the chaiſe flew back, the ſtranger put down the lantern, and claſped his dreadful arms around me. It was certainly the effect of the ſoporific draught, for, inſtead of exerting my ſtrength, I ſunk without motion, though not without ſenſe, on his ſhoulder, my limbs refuſing to obey my will. I was carried up the ſteps into a cloſe-ſhut hall. A candle flaring in the ſocket, ſcarcely diſperſed the darkneſs, though it diſplayed to me the ferocious countenance of the wretch who held me.

"He mounted a wide ſtaircaſe. Large figures painted on the walls ſeemed to ſtart on me, and glaring eyes to meet me at every turn. Entering a long gallery, a diſmal ſhriek made me ſpring out of my conductor's arms, with I know not what myſterious emotion of terror; but I fell on the floor, unable to ſuſtain myſelf.

"A ſtrange-looking female ſtarted out of one of the receſſes, and obſerved me with more curioſity than intereſt; till, ſternly bid retire, ſhe flitted back like a ſhadow. Other faces, ſtrongly marked, or diſtorted, peeped through the half-opened doors, and I heard ſome incoherent ſounds. I had no diſtinct idea where I could be—I looked on all ſides, and almoſt doubted whether I was alive or dead.

"Thrown on a bed, I immediately ſunk into inſenſibility again; and next day, gradually recovering the uſe of reaſon, I began, ſtarting affrighted from the conviction, to diſcover where I was confined—I inſiſted on ſeeing the maſter of the manſion—I ſaw him—and perceived that I was buried alive.—

"Such, my child, are the events of thy mother's life to this dreadful moment—Should ſhe ever eſcape from the fangs of her enemies, ſhe will add the ſecrets of her priſon-houſe—and—"

Some lines were here croſſed out, and the memoirs broke off abruptly with the names of Jemima and Darnford.

APPENDIX.

[ADVERTISEMENT.

The performance, with a fragment of which the reader has now been preſented, was deſigned to conſiſt of three parts. The preceding ſheets were conſidered as conſtituting one of thoſe parts. Thoſe perſons who in the peruſal of the chapters, already written and in ſome degree finiſhed by the au thor, have felt their hearts awakened, and their curioſity excited as to the ſequel of the ſtory, will, of courſe, gladly accept even of the broken paragraphs and half-finiſhed ſentences, which have been found committed to paper, as materials for the remainder. The faſtidious and cold-hearted critic may perhaps feel himſelf repelled by the incoherent form in which they are preſented. But an inquiſitive temper willingly accepts the moſt imperfect and mutilated information, where better is not to be had: and readers, who in any degree reſemble the author in her quick apprehenſion of ſentiment, and of the pleaſures and pains of imagination, will, I believe, find gratification, in contemplating ſketches, which were deſigned in a ſhort time to have received the finiſhing touches of her genius; but which muſt now for ever remain a mark to record the triumphs of mortality, over ſchemes of uſefulneſs, and projects of public intereſt.]

CHAP. XV.

Darnford returned the memoirs to Maria, with a moſt affectionate letter, in which he reaſoned on "the abſurdity of the laws reſpecting matrimony, which, till divorces could be more eaſily obtained, was," he declared, "the moſt inſufferable bondage. Ties of this nature could not bind minds governed by ſuperior principles; and ſuch beings were privileged to act above the dictates of laws they had no voice in framing, if they had ſufficient ſtrength of mind to endure the natural conſequence. In her caſe, to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herſelf. Delicacy, as well as reaſon, forbade her ever to think of returning to her huſband: was ſhe then to reſtrain her charming ſenſibility through mere prejudice? Theſe arguments were not abſolutely impartial, for he diſdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reaſon, he felt that he had ſome intereſt in her heart.—The conviction was not more tranſporting, than ſacred—a thouſand times a day, he aſked himſelf how he had merited ſuch happineſs?—and as often he determined to purify the heart ſhe deigned to inhabit—He intreated to be again admitted to her preſence."

He was; and the tear which gliſtened in his eye, when he reſpectfully preſſed her to his boſom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had ſtilled the tranſports of love, only to render their mutual tenderneſs more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to ſit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes—now it was all ſoothing affection, and eſteem ſeemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and ſpoke with warmth of the oppreſſion ſhe had endured.—His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wiſhed to reſtore her to liberty and love; but he kiſſed her hand, as if it had been that of a ſaint; and ſpoke of the loſs of her child, as if it had been his own.—What could have been more flattering to Maria?—Every inſtance of ſelf-denial was regiſtered in her heart, and ſhe loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the tranſports of paſſion.

They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while paſſion ſuf fuſed his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.—

One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her maſter intended to wait on her, and ſpeak to her without witneſſes. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he inſiſted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that ſhe could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would ſhe make over the half of her fortune during life, ſhe ſhould be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to purſue her plan of travelling."

Maria anſwered with warmth, "That ſhe had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would ſhe purchaſe liberty at the price of her own reſpect."

She began to expoſtulate with her jailor; but he ſternly bade her "Be ſilent—he had not gone ſo far, not to go further."

Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be abſent, and ſhe, as uſual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or diſcovery.—The lovers were, at firſt, embarraſſed; but fell inſenſibly into confidential diſcourſe. Darnford repreſented, "that they might ſoon be parted," and wiſhed her "to put it out of the power of fate to ſeparate them."

As her huſband ſhe now received him, and he ſolemnly pledged himſelf as her protector—and eternal friend.—

There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: ſhe was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard againſt de ception; and had rather truſt without ſufficient reaſon, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Beſides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We ſee what we wiſh, and make a world of our own—and, though reality may ſometimes open a door to miſery, yet the moments of happineſs procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the ſolid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that ſhe had found a being of celeſtial mould—was happy,—nor was ſhe deceived.—He was then plaſtic in her impaſſioned hand—and reflected all the ſentiments which animated and warmed her. — — — —

— — — — — — — — — — —

CHAP. XVI.

One morning confuſion ſeemed to reign in the houſe, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her maſter had left it, with a determination, ſhe was aſſured (and too many circumſtances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," ſaid Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight."

Maria ſtarted up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that ſome one ſhould faſten it on her for ever.

Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promiſe; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race."

"But Darnford!"—exclaimed Maria, mournfully—ſitting down again, and croſſing her arms—"I have no child to go to, and liberty has loſt its ſweets."

"I am much miſtaken, if Darnford is not the cauſe of my maſter's flight—his keepers aſſure me, that they have promiſed to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free—you cannot ſee him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.—In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on ſome hotel. Give me your clothes; I will ſend them out of the houſe with mine, and we will ſlip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make theſe arrangements, but loſe no time!"

In an agitation of ſpirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the ſacred name of "huſband," and bade him "haſten to her, to ſhare her fortune, or ſhe would return to him."—An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous.

The letter was ſealed and given in charge; and with light footſteps, yet terrified at the ſound of them, ſhe deſcended, ſcarcely breathing, and with an indiſtinct fear that ſhe ſhould never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went firſt.

A being, with a viſage that would have ſuited one poſſeſſed by a devil, croſſed the path, and ſeized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained—"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was ſcarcely human. "If you are made of fleſh and blood," his ghaſtly eyes glared on her, "do not ſtop me!"

"Woman," interrupted a ſepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"—Still he graſped her hand, muttering a curſe.

"No, no; you have nothing to do with me," ſhe exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"—

With ſupernatural force ſhe broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whoſe graſp ſhe had looſed herſelf, took up a ſtone as they opened the door, and with a kind of helliſh ſport threw it after them. They were out of his reach.

When Maria arrived in town, ſhe drove to the hotel already fixed on. But ſhe could not ſit ſtill—her child was ever before her; and all that had paſſed dur ing her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the houſe in the ſuburbs, where, as ſhe now diſcovered, her babe had been ſent. The moment ſhe entered, her heart grew ſick; but ſhe wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the neceſſary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it reſted under a turf. A little frock which the nurſe's child wore (Maria had made it herſelf) caught her eye. The nurſe was glad to ſell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria haſtened away with the relic, and, re-entering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till ſhe reached her hotel.

She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her ſituation. He readily advanced her ſome of the money which ſtill remained in his hands, and promiſed to take the whole of the caſe into conſideration. Maria only wiſhed to be permitted to remain in quiet—She found that ſeveral bills, apparently with her ſignature, had been preſented to her agent, nor was ſhe for a moment at a loſs to gueſs by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averſe to threaten or intreat, ſhe requeſted her friend [the ſolicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promiſe to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as ſhe behaved with propriety, if ſhe would give up the notes. Maria inconſiderately conſented—Darnford was arrived, and ſhe wiſhed to be only alive to love; ſhe wiſhed to forget the anguiſh ſhe felt whenever ſhe thought of her child.

They took a ready furniſhed lodging together, for ſhe was above diſguiſe; Jemima inſiſting on being conſidered as her houſe-keeper, and to receive the cuſtomary ſtipend. On no other terms would ſhe remain with her friend.

Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the myſterious circumſtances of his confinement. The cauſe was ſimply, that a relation, a very diſtant one, to whom he was heir, had died inteſtate, leaving a conſiderable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a perſon, intruſted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his poſſeſſion, determining, by one bold ſtroke, to ſtrip Darnford of the ſucceſſion,] had planned his confinement; and [as ſoon as he had taken the meaſures he judged moſt conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his inſtrument,] the keeper of the private mad-houſe, left the kingdom. Darnford, who ſtill purſued his enquiries, at laſt diſcovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris.

Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to viſit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action againſt Darnford for ſeduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; ſhe repented of the forbearance ſhe had exerciſed in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without riſking the loſs of his property: Maria therefore furniſhed him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair.

She viſited ſome ladies with whom ſhe had formerly been intimate, but was refuſed admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among theſe ladies there were ſome, not her moſt intimate acquaintance, who were generally ſuppoſed to avail themſelves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, ſeduced girls. Theſe particularly ſtood aloof.—Had ſhe remained with her huſband, practiſing inſincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, ſhe would ſtill have been viſited and reſpected. If, inſtead of openly living with her lover, ſhe could have condeſcended to call into play a thouſand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be ſo, ſhe would have been careſſed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus [138-A] is an honourable man!" ſaid Mark-Antony with equal ſincerity.

With Darnford ſhe did not taſte uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often diſtreſſed her; but love gladdened the ſcene; beſides, he was the moſt tender, ſympathizing creature in the world. A fondneſs for the ſex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have ſmall pretenſions to the reality; and they ſeem to love others, when they are only purſuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himſelf of her taſte and acquirements, while ſhe endeavoured to profit by his deciſion of character, and to eradicate ſome of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adverſity ſhe had brooded over viſions of unattainable bliſs.

The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burſt forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the ſweet emotions of the ſoul; yet they branch out with wild eaſe, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, ſketched by an imagination painful alive. The ſubſtantial happineſs, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleaſure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the ſweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feveriſh imagination continually ſport themſelves in gardens full of aromatic ſhrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the ſenſe of pleaſure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the ſtars, in this life, or in thoſe ever-ſmiling regions ſurrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an inſipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined ſcenes of bliſs; but, fencing out ſorrow, all the extatic emotions of the ſoul, and even its grandeur, ſeem to be equally excluded. We doſe over the unruffled lake, and long to ſcale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though ſerpents hiſs in the pathleſs deſert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herſelf more indulgent as ſhe was hap pier, and diſcovered virtues, in characters ſhe had before diſregarded, while chaſing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which ſported in the meteors that exhale in the marſhes of miſfortune. The heart is often ſhut by romance againſt ſocial pleaſure; and, foſtering a ſickly ſenſibility, grows callous to the ſoft touches of humanity.

To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.—It was to feel moſt painfully alone; but ſhe rejoiced to think, that ſhe ſhould ſpare him the care and perplexity of the ſuit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at preſent conſtituted, ſhe conſidered as leading to immorality—yet, as the odium of ſociety impedes uſefulneſs, ſhe wiſhed to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to eſtabliſhed rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be juſt the ſame without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not leſs firm. The being ſummoned to defend herſelf from a charge which ſhe was determined to plead guilty to, was ſtill galling, as it rouſed bitter reflections on the ſituation of women in ſociety.

FOOTNOTES:

[138-A] The name in the manuſcript is by miſtake written Cæſar.

editor.

CHAP. XVII.

Such was her ſtate of mind when the dogs of law were let looſe on her. Maria took the taſk of conducting Darnford's defence upon herſelf. She inſtructed his counſel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of ſeduction.

The counſel for the plaintiff opened the cauſe, by obſerving, "that his client had ever been an indulgent huſband, and had borne with ſeveral defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that ſhe left his houſe without aſſigning any cauſe. He could not aſſert that ſhe was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was ſo ſtrange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was neceſſary to confine her. By ſome means the defendant enabled her to make her eſcape, and they had lived together, in deſpite of all ſenſe of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not neceſſary to bring any witneſſes to prove it; but the ſeduction, though highly probable from the circumſtances which he had the honour to ſtate, could not be ſo clearly proved.—It was of the moſt atrocious kind, as decency was ſet at defiance, and reſpect for reputa tion, which ſhows internal compunction, utterly diſregarded."

A ſtrong ſenſe of injuſtice had ſilenced every emotion, which a mixture of true and falſe delicacy might otherwiſe have excited in Maria's boſom. She only felt in earneſt to inſiſt on the privilege of her nature. The ſarcaſms of ſociety, and the condemnation of a miſtaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to thoſe feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herſelf forward, inſtead of deſiring to be abſent, on this memorable occaſion.]

Convinced that the ſubterfuges of the law were diſgraceful, ſhe wrote a paper, which ſhe expreſſly deſired might be read in court:

"Married when ſcarcely able to diſ tinguiſh the nature of the engagement, I yet ſubmitted to the rigid laws which enſlave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the ſtate are reciprocal, I mean not to diſcuſs; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witneſſes are not wanting to eſtabliſh theſe facts. I at preſent maintain the child of a maid ſervant, ſworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumſtances lead men to think and act with leſs delicacy, than the preſervation of order in ſociety demands from women; but ſurely I may without aſſumption declare, that, though I could excuſe the birth, I could not the deſertion of this unfortunate babe:—and, while I deſpiſed the man, it was not eaſy to ve nerate the huſband. With proper reſtrictions however, I revere the inſtitution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim againſt the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker ſhoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorſhip as mothers, to ſign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or neceſſity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the caſes, in which a woman ought to ſeparate herſelf from her huſband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to inſiſt, comes under the deſcription of the moſt aggravated.

"I will not enlarge on thoſe provocations which only the individual can eſtimate; but will bring forward ſuch charges only, the truth of which is an inſult upon humanity. In order to promote certain deſtructive ſpeculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain ſums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refuſed further compliance, he thought of bartering my perſon; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to ſeduce me. On the diſcovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the moſt decided manner, for ever. I conſider all obligation as made void by his conduct; and hold, that ſchiſms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed.

"He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thouſand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I deſtroyed the ſettlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor ſhall enumerate the ſums extorted from me during ſix years that we lived together.

"After leaving, what the law conſiders as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance—yet, as the laws ſanction ſuch proceeding, and make women the property of their huſbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very conſiderable property to myſelf and child, I was expoſed to new perſecution; and, becauſe I had, before arriving at what is termed years of diſcretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whoſe vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miſeries that a woman may be ſubject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the ſoul, elude deſcription, and may be gloſſed over! A falſe morality is even eſtabliſhed, which makes all the virtue of women conſiſt in chaſtity, ſubmiſſion, and the forgiveneſs of injuries.

"I pardon my oppreſſor—bitterly as I lament the loſs of my child, torn from me in the moſt violent manner. But nature revolts, and my ſoul ſickens at the bare ſuppoſition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a ſeparation is neceſſary to prevent my feeling hourly averſion.

"To force me to give my fortune, I was impriſoned—yes; in a private mad-houſe.—There, in the heart of miſery, I met the man charged with ſeducing me. We became attached—I deemed, and ever ſhall deem, myſelf free. The death of my babe diſſolved the only tie which ſubſiſted between me and my, what is termed, lawful huſband.

"To this perſon, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myſelf, never conſidering myſelf as any more bound to tranſgreſs the laws of moral purity, becauſe the will of my huſband might be pleaded in my excuſe, than to tranſgreſs thoſe laws to which [the policy of artificial ſociety has] annexed [poſitive] puniſhments.——While no command of a huſband can prevent a woman from ſuffering for certain crimes, ſhe muſt be allowed to conſult her conſcience, and regulate her conduct, in ſome degree, by her own ſenſe of right. The reſpect I owe to myſelf, demanded my ſtrict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a huſband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be ſhut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?—I wiſh my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exiſt, made by the ſtrong to oppreſs the weak, I appeal to my own ſenſe of juſtice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man.

"I proteſt equally againſt any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I conſider as my huſband. I was ſix-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be ſuppoſed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I muſt by that time have arrived at it.—I acted with deliberation.—Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppreſſed woman, and promiſed the protection women in the preſent ſtate of ſociety want.—But the man who now claims me—was he deprived of my ſociety by this conduct? The queſtion is an inſult to common ſenſe, conſidering where Mr. Darnford met me.—Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me—nay, threats and intreaties were uſed to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?—I cannot, it is true, dive into the receſſes of the human heart—yet I preſume to aſſert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumſtances,] that he was merely influenced by the moſt rapacious avarice.

"I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from moleſtation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.—I appeal to the juſtice and humanity of the jury—a body of men, whoſe private judgment muſt be allowed to modify laws, that muſt be unjuſt, becauſe definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumſtances—and I deprecate puniſhment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I ſolemnly do, from the charge of ſeduction.]

"I did not put myſelf into a ſituation to juſtify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, ſhaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.—While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to ſully what is termed the fair fame of woman.—Neglected by my huſband, I never encouraged a lover; and preſerved with ſcrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who ſhould have been its guar dian, laid traps to enſnare me. From that moment I believed myſelf, in the ſight of heaven, free—and no power on earth ſhall force me to renounce my reſolution."

The judge, in ſumming up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuſe for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppoſe all innovation, and the new-fangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life—and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuſe or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?—It was her duty to love and obey the man choſen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than ſhe could for herſelf. As to the charges brought againſt the huſband, they were vague, ſupported by no witneſſes, excepting that of impriſonment in a private mad-houſe. The proofs of an inſanity in the family, might render that however a prudent meaſure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a perſon of ſane mind. Still ſuch a mode of proceeding could not be juſtified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a ſentence of ſeparation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Engliſhman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adultereſs to enrich her ſeducer. Too many reſtrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wiſhed to maintain the ſanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole."

CONCLUSION,

BY THE EDITOR.

Very few hints exiſt reſpecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached ſentences, and ſome ſcattered heads for the continuation of the ſtory. I tranſcribe the whole.

"Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumſtances occaſioned delays, and the miſcarriage of ſome letters rendered the reception of wiſhed-for anſwers doubtful: his return was neceſſary to calm Maria's mind."

II.

"As Darnford had informed her that his buſineſs was ſettled, his delaying to return ſeemed extraordinary; but love to exceſs, excludes fear or ſuſpicion."

The ſcattered heads for the continuation of the ſtory, are as follow [159-A].

"Trial for adultery—Maria defends herſelf—A ſeparation from bed and board is the conſequence—Her fortune is thrown into chancery—Darnford obtains a part of his property—Maria goes into the country."

II.

"A proſecution for adultery commenced—Trial—Darnford ſets out for France—Letters—Once more pregnant—He returns—Myſterious behaviour—Viſit—Expectation—Diſcovery—Interview—Conſequence."

III.

"Sued by her huſband—Damages awarded to him—Separation from bed and board—Darnford goes abroad—Maria into the country—Provides for her father—Is ſhunned—Returns to London—Expects to ſee her lover —The rack of expectation—Finds herſelf again with child—Delighted—A diſcovery—A viſit—A miſcarriage—Concluſion."

IV.

"Divorced by her huſband—Her lover unfaithful—Pregnancy—Miſcarriage—Suicide."

[The following paſſage appears in ſome reſpects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is ſuperſcribed]

"THE END.

"She ſwallowed the laudanum; her ſoul was calm—the tempeſt had ſub ſided—and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herſelf—to fly from the anguiſh ſhe endured to eſcape from thought—from this hell of diſappointment.

"Still her eyes cloſed not—one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another—All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to aſſail her, and prevent her ſinking into the ſleep of death.—Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which ſhe was the tomb.—'And could it have a nobler?—Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!—I cannot live!—but could I have deſerted my child the moment it was born?—thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to ſupport it?'—She looked up: 'What have I not ſuffered!—may I find a father where I am going!'—Her head turned; a ſtupor enſued; a faintneſs—'Have a little patience,' ſaid Maria, holding her ſwimming head (ſhe thought of her mother), 'this cannot laſt long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?'

"A new viſion ſwam before her. Jemima ſeemed to enter—leading a little creature, that, with tottering footſteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima ſounding as at a diſtance, called her—ſhe tried to liſten, to ſpeak, to look!

"'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria ſtarted off the bed, and fainted.—Violent vomiting followed.

"When ſhe was reſtored to life, Je mima addreſſed her with great ſolemnity: '——— led me to ſuſpect, that your huſband and brother had deceived you, and ſecreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to ſearch for the child!—I ſnatched her from miſery—and (now ſhe is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?'

"Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulſed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her boſom, and burſt into a paſſion of tears—then, reſting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,—ſhe put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing ſtruggle of her ſoul. She remained ſilent for five minutes, croſſing her arms over her boſom, and reclining her head,—then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!—I will live for my child!'"

A few readers perhaps, in looking over theſe hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediouſneſs, or remitting in any degree the intereſt of the ſtory, to have filled, from theſe ſlight ſketches, a number of pages, more conſiderable than thoſe which have been already preſented. But, in reality, theſe hints, ſimple as they are, are pregnant with paſſion and diſtreſs. It is the refuge of barren au thors only, to crowd their fictions with ſo great a number of events, as to ſuffer no one of them to ſink into the reader's mind. It is the province of true genius to develop events, to diſcover their capabilities, to aſcertain the different paſſions and ſentiments with which they are fraught, and to diverſify them with incidents, that give reality to the picture, and take a hold upon the mind of a reader of taſte, from which they can never be looſened. It was particularly the deſign of the author, in the preſent inſtance, to make her ſtory ſubordinate to a great moral purpoſe, that "of exhibiting the miſery and oppreſſion, peculiar to women, that ariſe out of the partial laws and cuſtoms of ſociety.—This view reſtrained her fancy [166-A]." It was neceſſary for her, to place in a ſtriking point of view, evils that are too frequently overlooked, and to drag into light thoſe details of oppreſſion, of which the groſſer and more inſenſible part of mankind make little account.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[159-A] To underſtand theſe minutes, it is neceſſary the reader ſhould conſider each of them as ſetting out from the ſame point in the ſtory, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter.

[166-A] See author's preface.

WOMAN.

CHAP. IX.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. X.

CHAP. XI.

CHAP. XII.

CHAP. XIII.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. XIV.

APPENDIX.

[ADVERTISEMENT.

CHAP. XV.

CHAP. XVI.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. XVII.

CONCLUSION,

BY THE EDITOR.

"THE END.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

LESSONS.