LETTER XXI.
From the same to the same.
I have somewhere read that wonder is the child of ignorance; it was fortunate for me that I recollected this sage remark, for I was in danger of oversetting it, by wondering without being ignorant. Have I ever yet seen Mr. Hardcastle act like a wise and prudent man during my whole life, except in one melancholy instance? And yet, Lucy, the folly and extravagance of his letter to Captain Flint produced so sudden an impression of surprise on my mind, that experience was confounded; and I exclaimed to Mrs. Allen, "Who could have believed this, even of Mr. Hardcastle!" On reflecting more deliberately on this proof of his inveterate opposition to all that is proper and suitable, I find however a consistency in his eccentricities, which might have secured me from wondering. After having laboured in meliorating a stubborn and unfruitful soil, he has taken the fancy to shew his skill in the flower garden, and to please his taste by cultivating the sweeter blossoms of a more genial spring, and a more productive mould. Peace be with him! His work is worthy of his hand! Under his culture will Mary Howard shed her mild fragrance around, and, secure from nipping colds or wintry blasts, she will, with, amaranthine bloom, cheer and delight his bosom! And you, my Lucy, "will be cheered by a companion your friend loves." These are your words. What shall I say to you in return? Nothing. Let Mary speak my thanks, whilst I bless Heaven for permitting me to be the means of sheltering innocence, and communicating to others the happiness I have enjoyed. I must nevertheless check my gratitude, in order to tell you, and this unaccountable Mr. Hardcastle, that I mean in future, to decline the honour of being the bearer of letters, which turn honest people's heads giddy. I am aware, that my own would not better sustain me, on the sight of some signed Hardcastle, than the poor captain's has sustained him; this, however, escaped your good father's consideration, so let it pass; whilst I proceed to inform you, that "gold may be bought too dearly," and that my nerves are not strong enough for heavenly delights. We are, however, somewhat more settled into mortal cares; and the captain, I presume, will, in his letter, find room to tell you when you may look for your guests. We have now something else to do; and which is doing with April faces. Mary is so busy that she does nothing. I am asked over and over again, "whether Miss Hardcastle will not think she dresses too much for a young creature in her condition of fortune; whether, I think Miss Hardcastle will not find her aukward for her age." Then comes hope, to dispel her doubts and fears. "If she should please, if Miss Hardcastle should take a fancy to her as I had done, how happy would be her lot! Her dear uncle's heart would be at rest, and she in a course of improvement!" Why do I write all this to you? Alas! I cannot impose on you. It is not Rachel Cowley that is preparing to set out for Heathcot; and I must weep, and envy.
I will not go to the Abbey to-morrow: what have I to do with trunks and band-boxes destined for your abode! No, I will not go near them! Pity me, my dear Lucy! Tell me that your good uncle has produced some change in your father's inflexible resolutions. Mr. Freeman is a wise man, although he loves my poor Horace so tenderly. Surely he might convince Mr. Hardcastle without invading on the prerogatives of the immortal Newton, that no material injury would be done to the planetary system by our writing to each other! He might go farther, and safely predict, that our marriage would not hasten a single comet. No extraordinary thunders would announce to the world, that happiness had triumphed over cent. per cent. and over certain scruples, unheard of by multitudes, and which multitudes would laugh at. Urge him to try his utmost eloquence in favour of an union of pure and unmixed affection. Can there exist a reason for the cruel separation to which we are doomed? I have no father to offend now; none to implore, but Mr. Hardcastle! Pity your
Rachel Cowley!
LETTER XXII.
From the same to the same.
You bid me hope for every thing that can relieve my spirits from their present oppression; and again you repeat, that Horace cannot have a better advocate than his uncle; yet, my Lucy, I am as weak as an infant. Why am I not permitted to accompany Captain Flint and Mary to Heathcot? I would return to my captivity with patience, could I but see this Mr. Freeman; it would satisfy me: no one here would oppose my journey. Oh! that cruel and too firm spirit may be trusted. Mr. Flamall's ward will not be seduced,—will not be inveigled by Mr. Hardcastle—his son is nothing to him! Malcolm gave me last night a note from Mary, "believing that Miss Cowley can effect every thing." So it appears. She and the captain intreat her to employ her influence with Sir Murdock and Lady Maclairn to favour them with a visit at the Abbey; or to permit Mary to pay her respects at the hall before her departure. Unwilling to disturb the baronet, or to distress his lady, I mentioned Mary's note to her only. She requested me to assure Miss Howard that she sincerely participated with her best friends, in the satisfaction they felt, on the subject of her absence. "Her removal from Mrs. Wilson's," added she, "will do more, I trust, than the captain thinks, towards conciliating her aunt's mind; but independently of this consideration, the advantages she will derive from her situation with Miss Hardcastle, are obvious; and I rejoice at her good fortune. It grieves me to refuse Captain Flint's invitation," continued she; "but the implacable animosity which his sister entertains for the whole family at the Abbey, has been hurtful to Mary's interest. I cannot, without injury to that interest, and exasperating Miss Flint, lose sight of the neutrality I have hitherto maintained. I wish you to give this sweet girl every assurance of my regard and esteem: tell her, Miss Cowley, that I never was her parents' enemy, nor am I capable of being hers. She must not come hither, unless her aunt consent to see her. Say nothing of this application to Sir Murdock. He will attend you as usual. It is utterly beyond my power to act otherwise than I do." Her eyes filled with tears, and to conceal them, she hastily quitted me, saying, that Miss Flint had not sent for her, being too ill to rise.
If I am to believe Mrs. Allen, this "poor woman" is hourly manifesting a better frame of mind; but I am under a fit of the spleen, and want faith for her charity. I am disposed to think that horsewhipping, like Doctor Lob's muscular exercise, or the dumb bells, might have been useful to her constitution. Why may not evil spirits be dislodged, in the same way that certain peccant humours go off, by perspiration? If I thought the remedy a specific for discontent, I would try its efficacy, provided the prescription admitted of a whipping-post, instead of my own bosom, or one as white and as soft as the cygnet's down.