THE HAPPY MARRIAGE.
During all this time that has elapsed, what has become of our friends at Fairmount?
The reader has now probably conjectured from the account of my visit to Fairmount at Christmas,[31] that a marriage would ere long take place between Mr. Lewellin and Miss Roscoe. It had been arranged in a subsequent visit paid by Mr. Lewellin at Easter, that the wedding should take place in the following June, and preparations were already made for the joyful occasion, at which I was invited to be present. On returning to London, however, to adjust some business matters, Mr. Lewellin found to his dismay, that an affair of great importance, which even threatened the stability of the mercantile house with which he was connected, required him immediately to proceed to Australia. The disappointment and vexation thus occasioned to the youthful lovers may be conceived, but there was no alternative, and the wedding was accordingly postponed to the following spring, by which time it was hoped that the bridegroom would have returned. Unfortunately, however, the business which required Mr. Lewellin's attention at the Antipodes, proved of so tedious and protracted a nature, that instead of reaching home in the spring, as he expected, nearly two years elapsed before he could return to his native country. In the interval poor Miss Holmes, Miss Roscoe's attached friend, died, as I have narrated in the foregoing chapter, and her loss was deeply felt by Sophia. During Miss Holmes' last illness, Miss Roscoe was on a tour in Italy with her father and mother; and though her friend had been suffering from a severe cold when she quitted England, Sophia had no idea of the fatal issue to which this would lead, and frequently anticipated, during her travels, the pleasure with which, on her return, she would describe to Louisa the beautiful scenery and objects of interest she had seen while abroad. As Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe and Sophia travelled much in Italy, seldom staying long in one place, their correspondence with their friends in England was very irregularly maintained, and, consequently, no tidings of Miss Holmes' illness reached them; and it was not till passing through London, on their return from the Continent, that they learned, to their grief and dismay, that Louisa had expired about a fortnight previously. Before proceeding to Watville, they paid a visit to the Elms, and did their utmost to console the bereaved family. They were also very urgent in pressing Emma and Jane to pay them a visit, which the feelings of the latter would not permit them to do at the time, but they expressed their readiness to do so as soon as their minds were somewhat more composed.
Not long after Miss Roscoe's return home, her spirits were most unexpectedly revived by the arrival of Mr. Lewellin, who having brought his business to a satisfactory termination, had immediately thereafter stepped on board ship and reached England, a few days before the letter which he had sent to announce his return. The joy of the youthful pair at meeting again, after so long a separation, is more easily imagined than described. Preparations were now made for the consummation of their union, at which I was earnestly invited to be present, but the multiplicity of my pastoral engagements prevented me from doing so, much to my regret. I, however, readily promised to pay a visit at Fairmount as soon as the married couple should have returned from their wedding tour.
At first it had been decided that the young people should settle in the vicinity of London, and that Mr. Lewellin should continue his mercantile pursuits as formerly, but this plan was ultimately abandoned. "I presume," said Mr. Roscoe to Mr. Stevens, when they met to adjust the final arrangements, "that your nephew will inherit your property, as my daughter will inherit mine, when it shall please God to remove us to a better world; and if so, I think they will possess a fortune quite large enough, without running the risk of losing any part of it by the speculations of commerce, and without encumbering themselves with the difficulties and anxieties necessarily attendant on them."
"This question," replied Mr. Stevens, "has often engrossed my attention, and I am happy to find that our sentiments on it coincide."
While Mr. Stevens and Mr. Roscoe were thus debating this grave subject, and determining what income they would portion off for the young people, they were disturbed by the sudden entrance of Mr. Lewellin and the ladies, who were ignorant of the point under discussion. "You two gentlemen look very grave," said Mrs. Stevens; "one would almost suppose that you have been discussing some question in which the destinies of Europe are involved."
"No, Madam," said Mr. Roscoe, "we have not been agitating any such question, but another, if not of equal importance, yet of equal interest to you."
"And what may that be, Sir?"
"I see your curiosity is awakened; but cannot you restrain it for a few hours, till you can coax your husband to gratify it?"
"Why, Sir, a woman very naturally feels anxious to know what, when known, will deeply interest her; and though you gentlemen sometimes practise the art of tantalizing, yet you must admit, that we can easily get at your secrets. When together, you can keep up the game; but when you separate, you give up the prize. You glory in your strength, when supported by each other's courage; but alone, you soon surrender."
"Ah! so it is; we, the lords of the creation, are compelled to pay tribute."
"Of course, Sir, tribute to whom tribute is due."
"To Cæsar, Madam!"
"And to Cæsar's wife, Sir."
"I see you are restless; and as I have too much compassion to keep you on the rack, I will announce in due form the question which we have been agitating. It is this—Shall your nephew and my daughter, after a certain event takes place, go to reside near London, or shall they reside near us?"
"A question, I presume, Sir, no less interesting to you than myself."
"Equally so, Madam."
"And how have you decided it, Sir?"
"We have come to no decision; but we should prefer their settling near us, rather than going so far away."
"I am happy to hear you are of that opinion; it completely coincides with my own views. I was always averse to George and Sophia being settled at a distance from us."
The reader will no doubt remember Miss Denham, whose death I narrated in a previous part of the book.[32] Her mother did not long survive the melancholy event; and Mr. Denham, being now left alone, soon sank into a morbid melancholy, which embittered his last days. He had outlived nearly all the companions of his youth; followed those to the grave who were to have inherited his property; and after languishing in a state of mental gloom and depression for several years, he bowed his head and gave up the ghost. His property, which consisted principally of land, he ordered to be sold, and the proceeds to be divided amongst his poor relations, with the exception of a small estate which he bequeathed to an intimate friend. Mr. Roscoe became the purchaser of one of his estates, which was situated in the parish of Broadhurst, not far from Mr. Ingleby's rectory; and as the gentleman who had rented it had just resolved on removing to a more distant part of the country, Mr. Roscoe deemed it a most eligible location for the young people. It consisted of a good house, very pleasantly situated, with about eighty acres of arable and pasture land, well wooded and watered.
When it was known that Mr. Roscoe had made this purchase, Farmer Pickford called on him with the view of obtaining a lease of it for his son Harry.
"I hear, Sir, as how you have bought one of the farms belonging to Mr. Denham; and I have made so bold as to call and say, I can get you a goodish sort of a tenant if you should want one. One that will do justice to the land, and no mistake."
"And who is it you have been thinking of?"
"My son Harry. He'll make as good a farmer as his father, and that is saying a good deal; though, perhaps, I shouldn't blow my own trumpet. I will stand score for the rent, and the proper tillage of the farm."
"I thank you, Farmer, for your offer; and I should have much pleasure in accepting your son as a tenant, but I have purchased the farm with an intention of offering it to Mr. Lewellin, if he should feel disposed to become a farmer."
"I beg pardon, Sir; I hope no offence. I wouldn't have said a word, if I had known that. Howsomever, I shall be glad to have him for a neighbour; and anything I can do to sarve him, I shall have a power of pleasure in doing."
"Thank you, Farmer. He will need instruction beyond what I can give him; and I had resolved to call on you for a little advice."
"That, Sir, I will give at any time, with a power of pleasure."
"It is pretty good land, I believe, Farmer?"
"The land, Sir, has a good heart in itself; but it has been desperately run out. It will take a power of trouble and expense to bring it into a good working condition, and no mistake. Mr. Denham was a bad landlord. He never would make no improvements, nor help his tenant to make any. And I always find a bad landlord makes a bad tenant."
"I am very glad, Farmer, that you have called, and have referred to your son Harry; and I will now tell you what has been running in my mind. I know the farm has been mismanaged, and that it will require, as you say, much trouble and expense to bring it into a good working condition; now, could you not spare your son Harry for a year or two, to act as bailiff to Mr. Lewellin; and thus he will be doing something for himself, which you know won't prevent him from taking a farm, when you have an opportunity of doing so?"
"It shall be, Sir, as you say."
"Well, then, you and your son had better call in the course of a few days, and we will settle the terms of agreement."
"With a power of satisfaction. This will mainly please my mistress, and Harry too, and no mistake."
Farmer Pickford then took his leave, and Mr. Roscoe proceeded to Fairmount to acquaint the family with the projects he had in view, in which they all gladly acquiesced. "Indeed, George," said Mrs. Stevens, addressing herself to Mr. Lewellin, "I think you will sustain no loss by exchanging the smoke of London for the salubrious air of Rockhill, and may part with your prospects of civic honours without regret, to be enrolled on the list of country gentlemen. Though you may not at first be so expert in farming as in mercantile transactions, yet in process of time your rural occupations will be no less interesting, if not quite so profitable."
"The exchange, Aunt, will be made without regret, especially when made in accordance with the wishes of my friends."
"We all wish it," said Mrs. Roscoe, who had accompanied her husband to Fairmount; "and it quite reconciles me to the idea of parting with my dear Sophia."
In the course of a few months Mr. Lewellin disposed of his business in London; the house at Rockhill underwent a thorough repair, and was neatly furnished, Harry Pickford was duly installed into his office, the farm stocked with the usual variety of live cattle, and the day for the celebration of the nuptial ceremony fixed. At length the wedding morning dawned, when the sun shone without a cloud, a circumstance which Sophia's good old nurse hailed as a happy omen of her future happiness. Every one was astir at an early hour. The friends invited to the wedding arrived, and the bride, with her father and mother and the rest of her party, drove off to the rectory, where they found Mr. Lewellin and Mr. and Mrs. Stevens and their friends waiting to receive them. "I am happy," said the venerable Rector, "that I have lived to see this day; and more happy that Divine Providence has conferred on me the office of uniting you in the bands of matrimony."
He then knelt down and prayed with them, and as he prayed warm tears were shed, but they were not tears of sorrow. Prayer being ended, they at once proceeded to the church. The good old Rector, dressed in the habiliments of his office, walked first, followed by the bride leaning on her father's arm and the rest of the marriage party. On entering the church they passed direct to the altar, where the ceremony was performed by Mr. Ingleby with great solemnity, in presence of a larger concourse of people than had been remembered in the village on such an occasion for many years. As soon as it was finished, the married pair proceeded to the vestry to attach their signatures to the register of their marriage, when Mr. Ingleby thus addressed them:—"I hope you will enjoy the excursion you are about to take; that a kind Providence will watch over you, to preserve you from all evil; and that you will return to us in health and peace. Accept this small packet as a token of the interest I feel in your happiness, and possibly you may retain it as a relic of friendship long after I have left you for a better world." He then placed it in the hands of Mrs. Lewellin, saying, "You may open and examine it at your leisure." On re-entering the church, they were both unexpectedly greeted by the village choir, who sung in sweetest melody the 128th Psalm, from Sternhold and Hopkin's version—
"Blessed art thou that fearest God,
And walkest in his way;
For of thy labour thou shalt eat,
Happy art thou, I say.
"Like the fruitful vines on thy house side,
So doth thy wife spring out;
Thy children stand like olive plants,
Thy table round about.
"Thus art thou blest that fearest God,
And he shall let thee see
The promised Jerusalem,
And her felicity.
"Thou shalt thy children's children see,
To thy great joy's increase;
And likewise grace on Israel,
Prosperity and peace."
M. S. MORGAN T. BOLTON
THE BRIDAL PARTY WELCOMED BY THE VILLAGERS.
Vol. ii. page 456.
The bridal party on coming out of the church were received with acclamations by the assembled rustics, who, all attired in their holiday clothes, thronged the churchyard, and pressed forward to wish the new married couple a long and a happy life. Nothing could more unequivocally testify to the universal popularity with which Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin were regarded among the villagers. The bells in the old tower rung forth their merriest peals, while the village children, with their little baskets, strewed the path with flowers. On reaching the churchyard gate, the wedding party stepped into the carriages which were waiting for them, and drove off to Mr. Roscoe's mansion. There the young couple proceeded to dress for their journey; and having partaken of some refreshment, left for the usual tour. The wedding party were entertained at dinner, by Mr. and Mrs. Roscoe, in celebration of the joyous occasion: while the company was cheerful and lively, there was no appearance of that levity which too often attends the celebration of the nuptial vow, even amongst the decidedly pious. "There are some of the customs of the world," said the venerable Rector, "which a Christian may follow without in the least compromising his character; I shall therefore offer no apology for giving the following toast—'Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin, and may they live long on earth, and finish their course with joy.'" This toast was duly honoured by the whole party, who soon afterwards retired to the drawing-room, where the remainder of the day was spent in innocent festivity and social intercourse. A sumptuous rustic feast was likewise spread on the lawn for the villagers, who were thus furnished with the means of participating with their superiors in the general rejoicings of the day.
We now return to the wedded couple. "I wonder," said Mrs. Lewellin, as they rode along in the post-chaise, "what this packet contains: I must open it, and have my curiosity gratified. Ah!" said she, on discovering its contents, "it is just like Mr. Ingleby, he is always so kind and considerate. Here is his pastoral advice to us, who have just returned from the altar." She then proceeded to read to her husband as follows:—
"I am happy, my dear young friends, that, in the union which has taken place this day, there has been no sacrifice of Christian principle—no violation of filial duty, and that it has been consummated under the most auspicious circumstances. You are both, my young friends, fellow-heirs of the grace of life; so that you have each obeyed the Divine injunction by marrying in the Lord. Here are your parents and your guardians offering you their congratulations, while Providence is opening before you a scene of prosperity, which, I trust, you will ever continue to enjoy. But you will not find this world a paradise; nor will you be allowed to pass through it without meeting with trials. It is not my wish, certainly, on this joyful occasion, to darken your prospects with the shades of threatening evil, but permit me, an old man on the brink of the grave, to address a few words to you, which may be of service after I have gone to rest with my fathers.
"Ever remember that you are both imperfect Christians, which will keep you from forming extravagant expectations, and guard you against the depressing influence of those momentary disappointments which you may feel. It is generally admitted, by the most competent judges, that temper is the hinge on which the happiness of domestic life turns; and if you can contrive to keep this always in a good condition, you will never be disturbed by the gratings of discontent, or the harsher sounds of anger or of discord. You are, I believe, both amiable, and have, during a long courtship, preserved the equilibrium of your temper—
'Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks,
Which humour, interposed, too often makes;'
yet you have now entered on a course in which you will find the correctness of the poet's remark exemplified—
The kindest and the happiest pair,
Will find occasion to forbear;
And something, every day they live,
To pity, and perhaps forgive.'
"I have known some who have been very fond of each other before marriage, and for some time after it, but their affection has gradually dwindled into indifference, even while they have been unconscious of any change. This is an evil against which I wish you to be on your guard. You may now suppose that such an event cannot occur; but what has befallen others may befal you. Pure love is a delicate plant, which suffers by neglect; and though you may imagine that by virtue of its inherent strength, it will perpetually yield the fragrance and the fruit of conjugal felicity, yet it will not do so without the most assiduous care. Endeavour, then, ever to exercise towards each other an amiable and forbearing temper, which will make you appear no less lovely in each other's estimation when the gray hairs of age come upon you, than when in the full bloom of youthful vigour.
'The love that cheers life's latest stage,
Proof against sickness and old age,
Preserved by virtue from declension,
Becomes not weary of attention:
But lives, when that exterior grace
Which first inspired the flame, decays.
'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind,
To faults compassionate and blind;
And will with sympathy endure
Those evils it would gladly cure.'
"But if pure affection may be regarded as the foundation on which domestic happiness rests, it is the province of good sense to raise the superstructure—to decorate and embellish it—to secure its internal harmony, and to cast up those mounds and bulwarks which will protect it from external annoyance and danger. I do not know that I can define this expression better than by calling it, that sense of propriety which is suited to the situation in which the member of a family is placed. Good sense will teach you to keep your proper station in your family; when to see and when not to see the faults and the excellencies of others; when and how to administer reproof, or to give commendation; and how to uphold your authority without the appearance of severity. It will also induce you to pay great attention to the little things of domestic life, which exercise so material an influence in promoting its happiness.
"As your manners will have a material influence over all the subordinate members of your household, the exercise of your good sense will teach you the importance of keeping your proper station, lest you should, by an act of encroachment, give excitement to any evil tempers or dispositions, which the occasion may appear to justify. I am aware of the extreme difficulty of marking out the exact boundary within which you ought to keep in the exercise of your authority, or in your habit of personal inspection; but as an improper interference with the opinions or the prescribed duties of others very rarely fails to give offence, even when no offence is intended, good sense will keep you on your guard against rousing unnecessarily irritable feelings. I do not wish you to suffer your servants to govern you, nor do I wish you to stand in awe of them, as I am convinced, from long observation, that the sceptre of authority should be held by the heads of a family; but as your comfort will depend very materially on those by whom you are served, I would advise you to study their temper and their disposition, and so to shape your commands as to secure obedience without a murmur, and bring about reform without opposition. Remember that your servants are not slaves, to be governed by authority without reason—that they are not stoics, to be treated as though they had no feeling; but are your equals in relation to God, though your inferiors in relation to civil society—who have as strong a claim on your generosity, as you have on their fidelity, and who will in general reward your kindness and sympathy by their affection and grateful obedience.
"If there be one sight more lovely than another in the present world, that sight is a happy family, whose different members live together in love and in peace, bearing each other's burdens, anticipating each other's wants, and endeavouring, by the thousand nameless expressions of kindness which they may show to each other, to secure and augment each other's felicity.
"As you are both disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, you will, I have no doubt, erect an altar of devotion in your habitation; but you must guard against the supposition, that all the duties of family religion are discharged when you have presented the morning and evening sacrifice. You may have servants to instruct who are ignorant of the nature and design of the gospel of peace, or whose positive aversion to every form of religion renders remonstrance or persuasion necessary. Though you may imagine that the instruction of the pulpit will prove the means of removing their prejudices, and imparting to them clear perceptions of the truth as it is in Jesus, yet I would advise you not to trust entirely to it. A little private conversation with them, when a favourable opportunity occurs, or a few familiar remarks made before or after reading a portion of the Scriptures, when you are collected together for the purpose of family prayer, may have a powerful effect on their minds, and lead them to work out their own salvation with fear and trembling. And if you should be instrumental in bringing any of them to repentance, and to the knowledge of the truth, you will have an ample compensation for your anxiety and labour, in the more ardent attachment which they will feel for you, and the greater fidelity with which they will serve you.
"I have more than once heard it remarked, that social intimacy very often proves injurious to that intimate Christian fellowship, on which the growth, if not the vitality of personal religion very materially depends. Hence, husbands and wives, parents and children, frequently converse more freely on the experimental influence of religion with distant associates or comparative strangers than with each other. But this ought not to be. They who are animated by the like precious faith, and who have to encounter the same spiritual difficulties, ought not to suffer the closeness of their union to operate as a reason why they should hold no spiritual communion with each other. Let me then entreat you, now you are just on the eve of forming your domestic habits, to avoid this evil, into which too many fall; and by the most unreserved mental communications, become helpers of each other's faith and hope.
'If pains afflict, or wrongs oppress,
If cares distract, or fears dismay,
If guilt deject, or sin distress,'
do not lock up your grief as a profound secret, which a false delicacy may wish you to conceal from one another; but rather disclose it without reserve, and you will meet in your reciprocal sympathy a relief from your burden of sorrow. And that you may cultivate this intimate religious fellowship, allow me to suggest to you the adoption of a habit, which I think eminently conducive to your spiritual prosperity. Always retire, during some part of the day or the evening, to pray with each other, and for each other; and you will find that the line of the poet records a fact, which your own experience will soon attest to be true, that prayer
'Brings ev'ry blessing from above.'
It enriches the mind with the treasures of spiritual wisdom, while it imparts a sweetness to the disposition, and an amiability to the temper, which cares and anxieties will not impair.
"And though, my young friends, I cannot cheer you with the hope of being able to pass through life without coming into contact with its temptations, its disappointments, and its bereavements, yet He in whom you trust, and to whom you have both devoted yourselves in the spring-time of your life, will never leave you nor forsake you, but will be a very present help in every time of trouble. If you are spared till the time of old age, I trust you will be 'like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.' And if you should be removed in early life, you will be transplanted to that celestial paradise, where you will flourish in undecaying strength and glory for ever. It is but a little while that I shall live on earth as a spectator of your bliss; but if spirits are allowed in their disembodied state to visit, though unseen, the abodes of mortals, I shall often be with you, 'joying and beholding your order, and the steadfastness of your faith in Christ.'"