On opening my eyes, I saw at my bedside my dear sister Fanny and Dr. Bain: the latter was feeling my pulse. I felt very much agitated at seeing Fanny.
Dr. Bain told her that my disorder proceeded alone from the agitation of my mind; but it, nevertheless, had produced such violent effects as to make it advisable for me immediately to lose some blood.
I submitted to whatever was required of me; but I begged Fanny not to tease or question me as to what had caused all this, assuring her that I could not talk on the subject without disturbing my senses, and I was earnestly desirous of obtaining a little calm reason, if only for one hour more, that I might compose a letter before I died.
Dr. Bain, as well as my sister, said and did everything the most tender friendship could dictate. To be brief, their kind attention and my own excellent constitution triumphed over the fever, which had been very severe during five days. In a little more than a fortnight I left my bed; and, though reduced to a mere shadow of what I had been, I found myself sufficiently collected to address the following letter to Lord Ponsonby:
"Scarcely a month has elapsed since I possessed, or believed I possessed, with health, reputed beauty, and such natural spirits, 'as were wont to set the table in a roar,' all my highest flights of imagination had ever conceived or dreamed of perfect happiness on earth—I had almost said, in heaven! Alas! I had not considered how unreal and fleeting must ever be the glories of this life, and I was, as a child, unprepared for the heavy affliction which has fallen on my heart like a thunder-bolt, withering all healthful verdure and crushing its hopes for ever.
"In encouraging so deep an attachment for a married man I have indeed been very hardened; but, till now, I can call my God to witness, I have never in my life reflected seriously on any subject. Maturity of thought, it should seem, is acquired earlier by certain characters than others; for I could affirm on my death-bed that, hitherto, I dreamed not of injuring any one of my fellow creatures. In short, while I loved all the world and would fain have done them all good, I most respected Lady Ponsonby. This assertion may seem scarcely credible to young females, differently educated or of less wild and childish dispositions; but, just arisen from a sick bed, I write not to deceive.
"Three weeks of bitter anguish of mind and body have changed, or rather matured my nature so completely, that even the expression of my features bears another character.
"My eyes are now open and I feel that, as the mistress of a married man, possessing an innocent, amiable young wife, I could no longer be esteemed or respected by the only being whose respect was dear to me. As lovers then, Ponsonby, we have met for the last time on earth!" [Here I laid down my pen; because this idea affected me.]
"I have delayed writing to you, till I could address you with reasonable firmness, not with the mere ravings of passion. Think you so meanly of me, dear Ponsonby, as to fancy that I could be gratified at becoming a mere instrument of pleasure to you, after my cool judgment has told me that I should thus forfeit all right to your respect or esteem? You are a man of the world, and as such may confound what is termed a lovefit, with the deep affection you have for three years taken pains to inspire in my heart.
"'Love never kills,' says the unfeeling world: yet, unfeeling as it may be, such a sudden desertion of your wife would have called forth towards her its deepest commiseration. Alas! the ceremony of marriage, read over to me by a thousand priests, could not have added one jot to my despair, while I in vain cast my cheerless eyes around the wide world for a single ray of pity, which is ever denied me.
"Yet the faults of my careless youth have been sanctioned and encouraged and shared by you, who knew well, from experience, the future anguish you were preparing for me! You elated my pride beyond all the bounds of humility; you blessed me with more than human happiness, but to destroy my peace for ever! I was not naturally vain; but, when you have shut yourself up whole days alone, to think on our meeting and our love, till we should meet again,—when, in movements of the wildest passion, you, with all your talent and your glorious beauty, have called me your own angelic Harriette, think you I could divest myself of delicious pride in the object of my passion? And if I did not believe or fancy myself an angel, perhaps my attributes as a woman were but the more appreciated by me, as you preferred them.
"Enough of a subject I had determined not to touch upon. I bow with humility to the fate which compels me to resign such happiness as few, among wiser and better people, have been permitted to enjoy; and, 'come what may, I have been blessed.'
"Had it pleased heaven to have bestowed on me the husband of my choice, there is nothing great or good or virtuous that I had not aspired to: as it is, I am a poor fallen wretch, who ask of your compassion one line or one word of consolation to save me from despair.
"Oh! I have known such moments of deep anguish as I could never describe to you. Ponsonby, my dear Ponsonby! I throw myself on my knees before you, I raise the eyes you have so often professed to love and admire, now disfigured, and half closed by constant weeping, towards heaven, and I ask of God to soften your heart, that you may not torture me beyond my strength. Recall then those dreadful words,—'we must part now, Harriette, and for ever!' I too am a woman! and Lady Ponsonby desires not my death.
"Trust me, the errors and little weaknesses which humanity dictates shall be found more acceptable in the eyes of God, than such stoical virtue as results from hardness of heart.
"If I survive the punishment you have declared I must submit to, it will be by the strength of my constitution, which shall be proof against an age of anguish! My heart was ever warm and unusually affectionate. I ask but to live yet for you, not with you. I would but obtain your approbation as a reward for my earnest endeavours to do right, and obtain for myself an existence, by my own industry, if ever my former health and strength should be restored to me.
"When you come and speak to me of what is right and virtuous shall I not love virtue for your sake? Have I ever wished to disobey you? I do not ask you to visit me alone. Call on me with Lord Jersey. Come soon, and give but the assurance that still and for ever you will be all to me that honour and virtue permits; that once in every year, while I act virtuously, you will visit me, and encourage me with your friendship and approbation.
"I am overpowered with faintness and fatigue, else I had many, many more arguments to urge. Hope, almost life, hangs on your answer; therefore, dear Ponsonby be merciful, and so may God bless you.
"HARRIETTE."
My mind was very much relieved, after I had despatched my letter; for I considered that I should certainly hear from Lord Ponsonby, if he possessed one spark of feeling toward me; and, if he did not, of course my respect and affection must naturally abate.
I watched for the appearance of the postman, who usually brought my letters, from morning till night, with indescribable emotion; nor did I cease to hope for a whole week. At last however I was convinced that the epistle which had cost me so much labour of thought, was indeed entirely disregarded by the person on whom I expected it would have made a deep impression.
Somewhat of an indignant feeling began to take the place of affection. All my woman's pride was roused, and yet methought, this man, so cruelly unfeeling to me now, has watched my slumbers in breathless silence, and still he smiles with the same brilliant expression on others, and all about him are impressed with that dignified air of true nobility, that reserve so delightfully and condescendingly thrown aside, in favour of the few who please him.
A slow intermitting fever began to prey on my constitution. I felt a violent oppression of the chest, which increased so rapidly, in spite of all my kind friend, Dr. Bain, could do for me, that in less than a month after I had addressed my last letter to Ponsonby, I could never find breath sufficient to enable me to ascend the stairs to my bed-chamber, without sitting down to rest more than once. I began to hate society; above all I avoided anything like gaiety.
It was now that I believed in all I had heard as to the wretchedness of this life, and I wanted to reconcile myself to my God. "I will pass my heavy hours in doing the little good to my fellow creatures, in my power," said I one day, as I recollected my former slight acquaintance with a woman whom I knew to have been lately taken to Newgate for rather a heavy debt. She was Lord Craven's housekeeper, during the time I had lived with him at Brighton.