Memoirs of the Flint Family continued.
It was soon after this little event that my enjoyments were augmented by the arrival of Mr. Howard, who served the parish of Tarefield as curate to Mr. Snughead's predecessor, and who took up his residence as a boarder and lodger at Mr. Wilson's. Few circumstances could have more elated my spirits. The most intimate friendship had united us at Oxford. We were of the same College, and had enjoyed the instructions, and the good opinion of the same respectable tutor. Howard was my senior, and unquestionably my superior in learning: I had experienced the advantages resulting from this circumstance; for his attainments were a fund on which I drew for my own benefit. The external graces of this young man corresponded with the endowments of his mind; and the elegant scholar and unaffected gentleman was distinguished at the university, as the handsomest man there.
Comliness in form and feature, was the hereditary donation which Howard had received from his family, with its high pretensions to ancient splendour and honours. Fortune had so sunk its prosperity, that his father had earned his bread by his sword; and on his death, in the field of battle, left to his young widow, with a small life annuity, and a pension from government, this only child, then an infant at the breast. The spirit of Howard animated the partner of his adverse fortune; she devoted herself to the care of her son; but with anxious solicitude implanted in him her own sentiments in regard to a military life; and by a rigid oeconomy, and the sacrifice of her own comforts, she was enabled to place him in a profession, which united the ideas of honour and safety for him, with peace of mind to herself. To invite a guest to my father's table, was not amongst the privileges which I enjoyed at Tarefield. Satisfied by finding myself received at Mr. Wilson's with hospitality, and the frankness so inherent in the mind of this worthy man, I neither regretted the apparently uncivil omission which rendered my friend a stranger to my home, nor wished to see him received there. Mary, approaching to her eighteenth year, was a dangerous object for Howard's sensibility; and he was formed to please her. These precautions of prudence and consideration settled my mode of conduct during the first week or two of Howard's residence; but nothing was talked of at the hall but "the handsome curate," "the fine preacher," who was come to Tarefield. My father, never a punctual church-goer, and who had been long disgusted by the old curate's Yorkshire dialect, and his ignorance, to which was unluckily added, his not playing either at cribbage or back-gammon, had, when disposed to say his prayers in a church, preferred that in the next parish, now in the hands, as it was then, of Mr. Greenwood; who was also a friend of Mr. Howard's, and who had been the principal inducement for his acceptance of the curacy of Tarefield. I was called upon for my report of my friend's merits, and truth dictated my answer. "It is very strange you never mentioned his arrival," observed Miss Flint; "your friend must entertain a poor opinion of the hospitality of Tarefield-hall from the neglect he has received from us. It is rather odd, that he should not have called on your father; such an attention would have been proper; but I suppose he was prevented." This remark was not intended to fall to the ground; and contrary to my usual custom, I took care it should not. "It has never been a question," replied I, "between Howard and myself, under which of our roofs we should enjoy each others society. I neither invited, nor repulsed his appearance here; for he never mentioned the subject: if he had, I should have told him, that his introduction did not depend upon me. My father sees no company; and I should not have presumed to ask to his table, a guest, who had no better title to his notice than being my friend."—"I am not unwilling, Percival," said my father, "to receive him with that title, whatever you may think, provided I can understand him better than the last dunderhead that was here. Does Howard play back-gammon?" I could only answer for the purity of his English, and his cheerful temper. The conference concluded by my being desired to engage Mr. Howard and Mr. Greenwood to dine at the hall on the following Sunday. Nearly a week's penance was softened to Miss Flint by the preparations needful for the expected guests. To the important concerns of the table were superadded those which regarded her personal decorations; for, as she observed, she had lived such a recluse, that she was hardly fit to be seen by a gentleman.
From the day of this visit, Tarefield experienced unknown delights. My father found the curate an excellent hand at back-gammon, "when he minded what he was doing." The honey of Hybla was on Miss Lucretia's lips; and her smiles were the signal for every one's merriment. My father became good humoured, and of course less the invalid. He now thought himself equal to a journey to London, which he had long meditated, and which he considered as indispensibly necessary to his affairs. My sister earnestly seconded his intention, demonstrating that he would be the better for a change of scene, and the exercise it would give him. "Take your pet with you," added she with a gracious nod, "shew her London for a month, and you will return home a young man, and leave behind you those habits of retirement, which have contributed more to make you an old one than either your years or your infirmities." My father observed that he should have too much business on his hands to permit him to shew Mary "the lions," but that the ensuing winter, it was probable, he should pass some weeks in London, and carry with him his whole family. Miss Lucretia's logic had been too conclusive to be recanted; and she saw my father depart for London without his pet. Hope however, remained at Tarefield, and so whispered success, that this defeat was apparently forgotten in new expedients. These were of that sort which it was impossible for poor Howard to overlook or mistake. He confessed his embarrassment to me; and with that integrity of mind which marked his course through life, he declared his love for my angelic Mary. I did not forget my duty, Miss Cowley, although I well knew there was not a man on earth better qualified to be her protector and to render her happy. I failed not to place before my friend the insuperable obstacles which would oppose his wishes, from his want of fortune, and from the influence of the disappointed, and already too envious sister. I pointed out to him the necessity of his being less frequently at the hall, and pleaded Mary's peace as endangered by his persisting in a passion so calculated to reach her innocent bosom. Mr. Greenwood engaged to do his parochial duty for him for a month; in which time my father would be at home, and a more guarded intercourse could be established. Mary affected no concealments with me on the subject of her dejection when Howard left us. Love had made her quick-sighted; and attributing my friend's absence to its true cause, she lamented Miss Lucretia's folly as the only impediment to her happiness, "being certain that no father could reject such a man as Mr. Howard."
I will not prolong my narrative with the arguments which you will naturally suppose I urged against this fond and fallacious belief. Her tears subdued much more than her promises satisfied me, although she repeatedly engaged "to act with a prudence which I should approve; to wait patiently for years; never to cause the least vexation to her dear father, and even to avoid offending her sister by an acknowledgment of Howard's preference." All was easy! time would do every thing for Mary, except to render her indifferent to Mr. Howard! I promised to be neuter, and I kept my word. The lovers, as it will appear, found an expedient to keep up a correspondence, without implicating my honour, or alarming my vigilance. My father's unaccountable detention in London was forgotten by the curate's return, and unable to resist the attraction which drew him to the hall, poor Howard accelerated those measures which it had cost him so many hours of privation to retard. He was present when my father's letter to Miss Flint announced his marriage, with orders to prepare the house for the reception of its new mistress. Our astonishment at this intelligence was succeeded by our cares for Lucretia, who from fury, sunk into violent fits. When restored to more composure, she hung faintly on Howard's arm, and said, "Be not discouraged, my dear Howard! I will convince my father that I have as good a right as himself to be happy. Let the minx whom he has married, be his slave. My duty shall be devoted to a husband, who will not disgrace his family.—He shall, Howard, consent to the justice of my demand. I will force him to be generous; you shall have no reason to complain of fortune!" Poor Howard, sinking with confusion and unable to speak, was relieved by my calling him to assist me. Mary, who in stupid silence had witnessed this scene, fainted; and he was permitted to retire, after having assisted me in conveying her to her room.
You need not be informed, Madam, that in Lady Maclairn's now faded form we beheld the beauteous bride whom my father, in a few days, presented to his children. The more attractive charms of her youth may still be traced in the modest and pensive expression of her countenance. She was extremely agitated on her first appearance, and seemed intimidated to a painful degree. Her brother, Mr. Flamall, accompanied her to the Hall; and by an affected gaiety, endeavoured to encourage his sister, and to recommend himself. Her manners succeeded much better to reconcile us to the stepmother. A quiet melancholy, a mild and endearing attention to every one around her, indicated the sweetness of her temper, and the authority by which she had been compelled to marry a man of seventy. For some days Miss Flint refused to quit her room. My father's resentment was appeased by his gentle help-mate; and she entreated him to assure his daughter, that she neither meant to interfere in her management of his family, nor to lessen her influence. "Tell Miss Flint," added she, "that my office in this house will be confined to my duty, as it regards your ease and comfort; and that in order to be happy myself, it is incumbent upon me to render your children so. I come not as a rival, but as a friend, to this abode." She looked at us with emotion, and a tear escaped. Some concessions produced the submission which my father wished for; a general amnesty took place, and Mr. Flamall so entirely diverted Miss Flint's resentments, that, to my astonishment, she was obsequiously polite to Mrs. Flint. Howard paid his visit of ceremony; my father received him with his usual cordiality; but his general absence was unnoticed. Flamall played at back-gammon with my father, and his young wife engaged his attention. A hasty call from time to time prevented curiosity or enquiry; and I secretly rejoiced that Howard was less in Mary's sight. She was every day more pleased with my father's choice; and considering her as the victim of a brother's interested views, she loved her as being unfortunate, and approached her by a sympathy apparently well understood.
Amiable and uniformly correct as Mrs. Flint's conduct was, you will not be surprised, that I endeavoured, not only as a son, but as a gentleman, to shew her that respect and those attentions to which she was entitled. She loved reading, and my library was hers. Sometimes she would steal an hour from her tiresome duties, and with her needle-work join Mary; and I read to them. She loved flowers and plants; and I became diligent in the culture of them. My father was pleased with this acquiescence on my part, and one morning he asked whether I was not satisfied that he had augmented his comforts. I replied with sincerity, saying that I had no doubt of it; and that I was also convinced, that in his wife Mary would find a guide and a friend. "So I think," returned he smiling, "I saw from the first hour that they would suit each other." A few weeks passed in peace and comfort, when suddenly my father relapsed into ill-humour, and was still more harsh and abrupt with me than ever. Stung by some rudeness of this sort, I asked him what had offended him. "Your conduct," said he roughly. "I do not want you to make love to my wife."—"I am sorry," answered I, "that you so little understand me, Sir; you make me wretched by your suspicions, and injure a woman whom I believe to be truly virtuous."—"I believe her so," returned he, "but I want no rival under my roof." He left me. I was confounded and astonished beyond conception, and in my road to my friend Howard's, which I instantly took, I endeavoured by recalling my most indifferent actions, to find a clew by which to unravel this unaccountable jealousy which my father had shewn. Conscious that I had never in the most remote manner, either experienced or discovered a sentiment beyond that good-will and respect which my actions had evinced, I mentioned, in the course of my conversation with Howard, an incident of a recent date, which at the moment struck me, and which then appeared to explain, in some sort, my father's ill-humour, though not his suspicions.
Mrs. Flint, at the breakfast-table, a few days before, had, with cheerfulness, reminded my father of a promise he had made her in town. "He told me," said she, smiling on my sisters, "that you would like current coin better than fashionable tinsel; and thus prevented me from adding to the incumbrances of band-boxes; but he must keep his word, and enable me to acquit myself handsomely; otherwise, if you will help me, we will pick his pocket now, for I know we shall meet with a good booty." The poor fond old man kissed her, and said she could do what she pleased with him without assistance. She blushed with genuine modesty, took the offered purse, and gratefully gave us each a twenty pound note. I thought at the moment that my father's brow clouded; and I believe she thought so likewise, for, with a sweet smile, she thanked him for his goodness to her. I received, however, my gift with a bow of acknowledgment, not unmixed with the painful idea of my dependance. Howard listened to this little account; but he informed me that Mary had mentioned to him a conversation she had accidentally heard before the wedding gift was mentioned; and that from what had passed between Miss Flint and her maid, she was certain her father suspected the motives of my civilities to the young mother-in-law. Let it suffice, Madam, I determined to leave Tarefield; nor did my friend Howard endeavour to oppose my resolution. He saw that it was impossible I could live at the hall, and that my health and talents were sinking under the continual checks imposed on my activity and spirits.
He solemnly engaged to watch over the only object of my tender regrets, and to maintain his pretentions to her at the point of his life; to guard her as a sacred deposit left in his hands, and never to urge her to commit an act that I could not approve. I knew Howard, Miss Cowley, and I was satisfied. The remainder of the day was given to my secret preparations, and the following morning I was on the road to London; my good father's wedding gift in my purse, and my blessed mother's pocket-book in my bosom. Providence indeed was my guide! for I found a brother in Mr. Heartley, who had recently married the amiable lady you have heard villified at Tarefield-hall. Their union had been delayed from motives of prudence. A patron of merit appeared, and Heartley gave up the possession of the law for a post in the War-office. My friend succeeded in getting me a lieutenancy of marines; and with Heartley's management, my dear mother's dying gift was like the widow's cruise of oil. During my detention in town I received letters from Howard and my sister Mary. I copy a part of my friend's; these are its contents;—
"Love, my dear Percival, had supplied to our ingenuity a friend not more secret than yourself, but much more tractable and convenient. The hollow oak at the avenue gate received our letters from the time your prudence refused the office. I wrote to my beloved girl the whole detail of our conversation the day preceding your departure, and depositing it in the wonted place, hastened to pay my morning visit at the hall." I was prepared for the question, 'Did I know what was become of you?' I answered to the point. You had been with me the day before, and had mentioned your intention of setting out for London as that morning.—'I told you, Sir,' cried Miss Flint, giving me a significant look, 'that Mr. Howard is not one whom he would trust with his idle schemes!'—'You are mistaken, Madam,' answered I, 'Mr. Flint was explicit with me in regard to his motives for leaving Tarefield. He told me he was weary of idleness, and was determined to seek employment.'—'He has pleased himself, Mr. Howard,' observed your father, with much coolness. 'I can have no objection to his plan, for I have long recommended employment to him; but he has learned to despise my advice, and to think every man a monster who plants sugar-canes. A few hardships will convince him, that the bread earned by the sweat of the brow is as laboriously earned in Europe as in the West-Indies.'—'Percival's talents will, I should hope,' answered I, 'secure him from so bitter an experiment; and his education has not been subservient to commercial views.'—'So much the worse,' replied he, with passion, 'so much the worse for him! He would have been getting forward by this time; with Oliver as his assistant, he would have had three or four hundred pounds per annum.'—'Well,' replied I, 'let us hope he will meet fortune in his own way; and that will never be a dishonourable one.'—'Pray do you know where he means to seek the fickle goddess?' asked Mr. Flamall.—'Were she not blind as well as fickle,' replied I, 'she would seek him; but real merit and persevering courage will, in the long run, get before her.'—'In that case he must be more persevering than he has been,' observed your father, 'and better informed as to what will suit him. His Latin and Greek will do him no good, for he has discovered that priestcraft is as bad as the negro trade; but this comes of a man's having more ballast than his head can carry.'—'Whoever has insinuated into your mind, Sir, this opinion of your son,' replied I, 'did not know him; and I assert that he desired nothing more ardently, than to be ordained to exercise the functions of a parish priest.' He looked vexed, and said he had heard a very different story. I had given my sweet girl a look of intelligence, and she comprehended it. Mrs. Flint had tenderly taken her seat by her, and appeared anxious to console her. Finding your father said no more on the subject of your various sins, I rose to depart; and, resisting all Miss Flint's persuasions, was fairly making my escape, when your father graciously pressed me to stay and dine with him, adding, 'I am not angry with you, Mr. Howard, because you are Percival's friend: he may think as he pleases of me, and follow his own conceit. When he is pennyless he will find out his mistakes, and it may be, not find his father the slave-driver, as he calls me.'—You must, my dear Percival, write to him, &c. &c.