Weakened by my late indisposition, fatigued by the rough motion of the carriage, and exhausted by strong emotion, when arrived at the end of my journey, I was obliged to be lifted from the coach, and carried into the cottage of my friend. The servant led the way to the library—the door opened—Mrs Harley advanced, to receive me, with tottering steps. The ravages of grief, and the traces of sickness, were visible in her dear, affectionate, countenance. I clasped my hands, and, lifting up my eyes, beheld the portrait of Augustus—beheld again the resemblance of those features so deeply engraven on my heart! My imagination was raised—methought the lively colours of the complexion had faded, the benignant smile had vanished, and an expression of perplexity and sternness usurped its place. I uttered a faint shriek, and fell lifeless into the arms of my friend. It was some time before I returned to sense and recollection, when I found myself on the bed, in the little chamber which had formerly been appropriated to my use. My friend sat beside me, holding my hand in her's, which she bathed with her tears. 'Thank God!' she exclaimed, in a rapturous accent, (as, with a deep sigh, I raised my languid eyes, and turned them mournfully towards her)—'she lives!—My Emma!—child of my affections!'—sobs suppressed her utterance. I drew the hand, which held mine, towards me—I pressed it to my bosom—'My mother!'—I would have said; but the tender appellation died away upon my lips, in inarticulate murmurs.
These severe struggles were followed by a return of my disorder. Mrs Harley would scarcely be persuaded to quit my chamber for a moment—her tenderness seemed to afford her new strength;—but these exertions accelerated the progress of an internal malady, which had for some time past been gaining ground, and gradually undermining her health.
Youth, and a good constitution, aided by the kind solicitudes of friendship, restored me, in a few weeks, to a state of convalescence. I observed the declining strength of my friend with terror—I accused myself of having, though involuntarily, added to these alarming symptoms, by the new fatigues and anxieties which I had occasioned her. Affection inspired me with those energies, that reason had vainly dictated. I struggled to subdue myself—I stifled the impetuous suggestions of my feelings, in exerting myself to fulfil the duties of humanity. My mind assumed a firmer tone—I became, once more, the cheerful companion, the tender consoler, the attentive nurse, of this excellent woman, to whose kindness I was so much indebted—and, if I stole a few moments in the day, while my friend reposed, to gaze on the resemblance of Augustus, to weep over the testimonies of his former respect and friendship, I quickly chased from my bosom, and my countenance, every trace of sadness, when summoned to attend my friend.
[19:] Rousseau.
CHAPTER XIV
The winter came on severe and cold. Mrs Harley was forbidden to expose herself to the frosty air, which seemed to invigorate my languid frame. I was constituted her almoner, to distribute to the neighbouring poor the scanty portion, which she was enabled, by a rigid œconomy, to spare from her little income: yet the value of this distribution had been more than redoubled, by the gentler charities of kind accents, tender sympathy, and wholesome counsels. To these indigent, but industrious, cottagers, I studied to be the worthy representative of their amiable benefactress, and found my reward in their grateful attachment, and the approving smiles of my friend.
By degrees, she ventured to converse with me on the subject nearest her heart—the situation of her son. He had been obliged to yield to the proofs produced of his marriage, which he had, at first, seemed desirous of evading. He had written, with reserve, upon the subject to his mother; but, from the enquiries of a common friend, she had reason to apprehend, that his engagement had been of an imprudent nature. Two children, were, already the fruits of it: the mother, with a feminine helplessness of character, had a feeble constitution. The small fortune, which Augustus had originally shared with his family, was greatly reduced. His education and habits had unfitted him for those exertions which the support of an encreasing family necessarily required:—his spirits (her friend had informed her) seemed broken, and his temper soured. Some efforts had been made to serve him, which his lofty spirit had repelled with disdain.
This narration deeply affected my heart—I had resigned myself to his loss—but the idea of his suffering, I felt, was an evil infinitely severer. It was this conviction that preyed incessantly on the peace and health of his mother. My fortitude failed, when I would have tried to sustain her; and I could only afford the melancholy satisfaction of mingling my sorrows with her's.
The disorder of my friend rapidly increased—her mind became weakened, and her feelings wayward and irritable. I watched her incessantly—I strove, by every alleviating care, to soften her pains. Towards the approach of spring the symptoms grew more threatening; and it was judged, by her physician, necessary to apprize her family of her immediate danger. What a trial for my exhausted heart! I traced, with a trembling hand, a line to this melancholy purpose—addressed it to Mr Harley, and through him to his younger brothers and sisters.