As I did not then know their worth, I was cautious in my inquiries about the young lady, and it has amused both Martha and myself to recollect how guarded, and with what apparent unconcern I talked and asked questions about the family. I gathered that Mr. Bewcastle was a harsh and obstinate man, loving his own ways and his own money better than any thing in the world excepting his grandson, Mr. Anglesea, who could prevail on him to do almost any thing. That it was talked of amongst the neighbours that he wanted to marry his cousin, or rather second cousin, but that she could not bear him.
I asked if they knew the young lady personally, and they said that she often walked their way and sometimes stopped to speak to Martha, who had when young lived with her parents. That she had called there on her way to church on Sunday last, and they were sorry to see her look so thin and unhappy.
I had to turn away suddenly from the good people to hide my emotion, nor did I dare to resume the conversation for some time, lest they might suspect my designs. I had, of course, no settled plan of proceeding; my first object was to see the young lady and learn the state of her affections; if they were favourable to my hopes I then intended to offer my hand; my love had been hers from the first hour I saw her. I projected a number of schemes either to see her, or get a letter conveyed to her, but I became nervously timid when I attempted to put any one of them in execution. At that time if I could have been sure of our good Martha, I should have been spared two days of great distress, for she, kind soul, would have assisted me immediately. I knew of no better plan, at last, than to get her to take a note to Mr. Bewcastle’s, and contrive to give it to the dear lady unobserved by the family, but my hatred of deception was so great I was exceedingly reluctant to practise this little artifice.
Towards the close of the second day, which was passed in wandering through the fields and along the lanes, I made a desperate effort to speak once more on the subject nearest my heart. Aunt Martha came in the little parlour up stairs, and seated herself near to me looking anxiously in my face, it was a motherly tender look, and I felt the tears starting to my eyes. You are quite indisposed, said she, at length, and I told my brother that I would make so bold as to ask you if you had any trouble that we could relieve, and to say if you are short of money that you can stay here a fortnight or longer, and never mind paying us till you can afford it.
I was truly grateful for this kindness, and of course showed her my pocket book full of notes. “What then ails you,” said she, “for it is something more than ill health. May I guess?” I told her, smiling, that she might guess, and if she came near the truth, and could assist me, I should be eternally grateful.
“Well, then, I am sure it is connected with Mr. Bewcastle’s niece, and if you are the gentleman that I have heard people talk about—are you a printer?”
“Yes,” said I, “and I am determined to trust you—my name is Parr; now tell me what you have heard.”
“Why, I have heard that one cause of the young lady’s aversion to this Mr. Anglesea, is her love for a young printer by the name of Parr.”
My face was like scarlet; to hear this talked of publicly—to hear that from others which I would give kingdoms to know was truth, rendered me almost incapable of listening any further.
“Well, you need not answer,” said the kind-hearted woman, “I was pretty sure last evening, that you were the very one, and now what can I do to serve you. We both love the young lady, and should be very sorry to see her married to a man she dislikes, particularly as she loves another.”