May 26
I am sure my dear Cecilia will rejoice with her friend in the acquisition she has received to her own happiness by conferring so much on a worthy family. The bride is this day gone home to her own house; her delighted father with her. Their prayers and blessings, poured out from truly grateful and virtuous hearts, remain with me. A reward, my dear, and a rich one too, for the self-satisfying part I have acted.
My worthy Patty, whose merit alone raises her much above her station, I shall no longer consider as my servant. She has been my friend in the tenderest and most enlarged sense of the word, and she shall continue so. I have hired another maid to wait on me, and with a sort of merry ceremony enfranchised Patty on the day of her brother’s marriage; for I had her dressed elegantly as bride’s maid to her new sister, and she sat on her right-hand at the wedding dinner. I look on her as my companion, but I cannot persuade her to forget that I was her mistress. She shews this by actions, not by words. [Here follows an interval of thirteen months, in which nothing material to the thread of the story occurs. The journal contains only a continued series of such actions, as shewed the noble and pious use which Mrs Arnold made of the great fortune which providence had blessed her with. The rest is filled up with a variety of little incidents, many of them relative to her brother and his lady, to Mr Warner, and several letters from Lady V——, with whom she constantly corresponded. At the end of that period the journal proceeds thus.] June 28, 1708 And shall I really be so blessed, my ever beloved Cecilia, as to see you at the time you mention? Oh, my dear, after an absence of five long years, how my heart bounds with joy at your approach! The two months that are to intervene before we meet will appear very tedious to me. But it is always so with happiness, that is within our view. Before I expected you, though I regretted your absence, yet did I patiently acquiesce under it, and could entertain my thoughts with other objects; but I am now, I cannot tell you how anxious and impatient to see you. And yet, my Cecilia, we shall have nothing new to say to each other, knowing as we both do every circumstance of each other’s life since we parted. Mine has been a strange one; but my lot is now fallen on a fair ground, where, I hope it will please heaven to continue me whilst I am to remain in this world. The noble, I may almost call it, princely fortune that my kinsman has settled on me, will enable me to leave my children greatly provided for, whenever it shall be God’s pleasure to call me away. Let me but live to embrace my Cecilia, and then, providence, thy will be done!
June 29
Gracious God! for what I am yet reserved? My trembling hand can scarce hold my pen, but I will try to tell you the event which yesterday produced.
I was but just set down to dinner; nobody with me but Patty and my children. A note was brought into me, which, they said came by a porter, who waited for an answer. I opened and read it. My eyes were struck with the unlooked for name of Orlando Faulkland at the bottom; the contents filled me with terror and surprize. I know not what I have done with the note, but he informed me in it that he was just arrived in town, and begged I would appoint an hour that evening to see him alone, adding, that his arrival was, and must be, a secret to every body but me.
Troubled and shocked as I was, I returned for answer, by the same messenger, that I should expect him at six o’clock. I need not tell you how I passed the interval ’till that hour. It was impossible for me, amidst a thousand conjectures, to form one which could probably occasion this amazing visit. So strangely introduced! so unthought of! and from one I imagined to be in another kingdom.
Precisely at six o’clock, I heard a coach stop at the door; Patty was in the way to receive him, and presently Mr Faulkland himself entered the drawing-room. Distraction was in his looks! I rose to receive him, but shook from head to foot; and I felt the blood forsaking my face. He ran to me, as if with a design to salute me, but started back without making the offer. I made a motion to a chair for him, and sat down myself, for I was not able to stand. You are welcome to England, Sir, I am glad to see you—scarce knowing what I said. I hope your lady is well? He looked wildly, as if in horror at the question. Then suddenly catching both my hands, he fell on his knees before me, his eyes fixed mournfully on my face, and it was some time before he could answer.
I could not speak; I burst into tears:—there was something dreadful in his silence. He kissed both my hands, but I withdrew them from him. Sir, Sir, speak I conjure you. You shock me to death! I see I have, said he; and I am afraid to proceed: you will die at the relation. For God’s sake, Sir, explain yourself.— You see a man, said he, whose life is forfeited to the law—My wife is dead—and by my hand—.
I don’t know whether he said more, for I fainted away. It seems he did not call for any help, but by his own endeavours at last brought me to myself, and I found him weeping bitterly over me.