"Why speaks not my noble master," said Williams, observing the fixed posture and quenched eye of Evellin. At last he exclaimed—"I am not dead;" and bursting into an hysterical laugh, he swore De Vallance should find he was not dead.
"That is the point," replied Williams, "to which I have long wished to urge you. Only appear and prove your identity; nothing more is wanting. But rest on my arm, your whole frame is convulsed. Ah, woe is me, that a base upstart should thus destroy so true a sample of old English worth!"
"I have survived the loss of my patrimony," said Evellin; "I have bowed my aspiring mind to the lowliness of which I was born to be the protector; I have a good King, a good cause, a faithful wife, dear lovely children. De Vallance shall not long triumph. But say, Williams, didst than ever hear of treachery so complicated, so deep, so totally void of even a twinkling ray of common rectitude."
"I know but one character more vile and unnatural," returned Williams, "and that is the Lady Eleanor."
"I pass her by," said Evellin. "Nature cast her mind in its most sordid mould; and her heart is capable only of mean inclinations and low desires; I have, from my youth, reproved her follies, and as she never loved me, she would see no crime in plotting my destruction."
"What—because you strove to render her worthy her lineage," answered Williams. "If a bad nature is an excuse for crimes, may not Satan object to the severity of his sentence. Beauty made her vain, and adulation made her haughty. Yet other ladies on the same personal graces have engrafted the lovelier stock of truly noble virtues. The husband whom she deigned to marry, because she found him a ready slave to her designs, will live to rue the day when he made marriage a ladder to ambition. May Heaven guard our Queen from so dangerous a friend. Never did a falser serpent with a beautiful outside dart its poisons into the ear of Majesty."
Williams went on repeating anecdotes, which proved the degeneracy of the new Countess from the antient stock of noble ladies who were better pleased to act as faithful and provident stewards of the bounty of Heaven, than, like greedy whirlpools, to absorb every thing within their reach. He contrasted their circumspect liberality with her thoughtless waste; the matronly sobriety and tempered magnificence of their attire with her new fangled fickleness and wanton costliness; their modest dignified courtesy with her wayward perverseness; their gravity with her lightness, in acting at court-revels and maskings, familiar with every gallant, and accepting praise from the most polluted sources. He spoke to the winds; the full proof of that perfidy which Evellin had so long struggled to disbelieve, fell like a thundering cataract on his mind, and swept away all power of attention. Long-indulged sorrow had preyed on his mental and corporeal functions, and rendered him ill able to support that severe blow. Williams sincerely repented the circumstantial disclosure he had made. A feverish listlessness seized on the unhappy Evellin, which yielded only to the visitation of a more dreadful calamity. It was not decided insanity, but it dispelled the hopes which had been formed of his being able to reclaim his usurped birth-right. His bodily health was in time restored, and his mental infirmity became a wild humoursome eccentricity, preserving traces of his noble character, but querulously impatient of controul, subject to extravagant transports, and incapable of steady exertion or connected thought. Still magnanimous, independent and honourable, but moody, rash, and intractable, he was the automaton of generous instinct, no longer animated by reason.
Such a situation required constant vigilance to prevent irritation and supply soothing recreations and gratifying objects. Williams was a most useful assistant to Mrs. Evellin. He was practically versed in husbandry, he knew the world, and had a creditable share of literature; he could thus amuse his master, direct the domestic management, and instruct the children. Isabel in all these instances found him a considerable relief to her cares. That excellent woman knew not what immediately hastened her husband's malady. Williams had often stated the possibility of his regaining his rights; but she, dreading every proposal that might agitate his mind, solemnly urged that that topic should be avoided. "In my prayers to Heaven," said she, "I never dared to supplicate for more than that he might ever continue what he was when I first revered and loved him. Reason and judgment are positive advantages; fortune and title, accidents which the possessor may convert into evils. I should have been most thankful, if, during our journey to the vale of years, he had been always able to act as my counsellor and guide. His conversation was 'the daily banquet of my nourished mind.' I hoped ever to feed on the words of wisdom breathed from the lips of kindness. I know not what important contingencies in my eternal existence are connected with my present trial; but this I know, if I sustain it patiently and cheerfully, it must promote much present good. I did not consider marriage merely as a summer voyage. Before I left the quiet harbour of singleness I thought of winter and its future storms. Most happily I did not choose a vessel laden with perishable treasures. While reason and judgment illuminated his mind, my Evellin was the delight and ornament of society; yet still his holier hopes, pursued a good, less transient than the applause of man. If while the faithful servant labours in his vocation a premature night falls upon him and suspends his toil, will the just Master who ordains the privation, be extreme in noting the remissness of infirmity? I once was the happiest of wives, nor can I now be wretched since I still minister comfort to my beloved."
Thus, with a mind naturally firm, and still further supported by principle and undeviating affection through years of trial, Mrs. Evellin persevered in active duty and enduring fortitude. The anxiety which her suffering husband excited, and the attentions he required, slowly undermined a constitution originally delicate, but she made no parade either of her sorrows or her cares. She courted no compassion, and her suppressed anguish would have been known only to her Creator, had she not observed that Evellin, in his wildest aberrations of intellect, felt her sorrows, and was not only tranquillized but restored to a transient recollection by the sight of her distress. She bestowed infinite care on her children, labouring to impart to them a portion of her own cheerful fortitude and active vigilance. The superintendance of her farm added to her employments; she had no leisure for unavailing regret; and till sickness was added to sorrow, her busy days were frequently rewarded by nights of peaceful slumber. The occupied mind, however acute its sensibility, rarely sinks into despondence. The soothing consciousness of usefulness overcomes its regrets, and the habit of exertion creates confidence in its own powers. This sentiment, though criminal when it annihilates religious dependence, is highly commendable when it acts as its ally, inspiring a generous resolution of not adding to the burden of our fellow-pilgrims, who like us toil heavy-laden through the wilderness of life. On the other hand those, who, when visited by irremediable affliction, give up their whole souls to the indulgence of grief, may dignify their passive dejection with the name of finer feelings, and more tender sensibility, but they will at last find, that they have submitted to the bondage of a tyrant who will deprive them of all their remaining comforts. Does gloomy despondence bespeak a higher degree of social virtue? Is melancholy an instance of the soul's reliance on Divine goodness? Do they not rather shew a rebellious disposition to Him from whom affliction proceeds, and a selfish disregard of those whose comforts are all blasted by the depressing influence of indulged despair?