The mutual confidence which subsisted between Lord William and Horace Hardcastle, was of that nature which precludes all concealment; and the dejection of the lover's spirits was not only a subject of disquietude to Lord William, but of anxiety to Doctor Innes. He was influenced, by the account given him of the young man's difficulties, to write to his uncle, Mr. Freeman; and, stating to him his fears for his nephew's health, he with much earnestness expatiated at large on the effects of a domineering passion. "I have, my good friend," added the doctor, "said thus much of Mr. Hardcastle's inclination, because I well know it was implanted, and is nourished, by the purest affections of his nature. Opposition will never destroy it; but it checks his activity, preys on his spirits, and may blast the hopes of his family. It is time his father should know this. Some indulgence is necessary, unless he means to sacrifice his happiness to a point of honour." Alarmed by the seriousness of this application, Mr. Freeman determined to quit his beloved home, and to plead in person for the lovers; conceiving that Mr. Hardcastle would be more accessible to his remonstrances, when urged by an affection which had led him to think Horace a match for the first woman breathing, in point of merit. He was successful, or rather Doctor Innes's letter prevailed. The interdiction of writing was removed; and Horace was informed that he had only to be cheerful till Miss Cowley ceased to love; and to wait patiently for Counsellor Steadman's operations with the redoubtable Mr. Flamall. These letters, and the change of measures which Mr. Hardcastle had adopted, were carefully concealed from Miss Cowley. Horace had been mentioned as not only depressed but indisposed, and the confederacy who had jointly aided in the victory over his good father, concurred with Miss Hardcastle that it was more prudent to leave Miss Cowley in repose, and to Horace the pleasure of telling his own tale. Mr. Freeman, contented with these advantages, and encouraged by Mr. Steadman's concurrence, with whom he had an interview in London, in his way to Heathcot, returned home. Captain Flint and Miss Howard's arrival immediately followed. Some conversation, relative to her beloved brother, led Miss Hardcastle to say to her guests, that she had been very unhappy from the time he had left England; "but Heaven be praised," added she, with unguarded warmth, "we shall be happy soon!"—"Do you expect your brother home?" asked the captain. "No, but he will be more comfortable than he has been abroad," answered she, with vivacity; "and it has been his dejection as much as his absence which have been the subjects of my regret. Thank God! all goes well at present." She instantly checked herself, and changed the conversation.
The captain's return to Tarefield was followed by the letter before us.
LETTER XXV.
From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle.
Pray, Lucy, by what enchantment has it happened that Captain Flint, with the loss of his idolized niece, has also lost his care-worn face? How has it happened that in a mail-coach, and exposed to cold and fatigue, he has contrived to leave behind him his rheumatic pains and nervous head-achs? But our first interview gave me a nervous head-ach, and a nervous tremor into the bargain! for, after having, with the patience of Job himself, listened to his rhapsodies in praise of all his ravished eyes had beheld at Heathcot; giving him his full swing in the history of the concerts at Worcester, and the feasts at the baron's, and the Chudleighs, &c. I did contrive to edge in; "and what did you hear them say of Horace?"—"Mr. Hardcastle," replied he, "walks every morning in the little plantation"—he shewed me the children's oaks—"raised from acorns of your setting. His son's have got the start of yours and Miss Hardcastle's?"—"Well, I know all this," answered I pettishly; "but did his father never speak of him to you?"—"He talks of him perpetually," replied he, "as every one does, and Miss Hardcastle appears to be quite reconciled to his absence, for she assured me, that he would be happier than he had been."—"Good God!" exclaimed I, "what could she mean!" Something in my too honest face betrayed me. "Be composed, my dear Miss Cowley," said the terrified captain, "I am certain there is no cause for alarm, when Miss Hardcastle says 'all will be well:' these were her words, in speaking of her brother." Judge, Lucy, of the effect of such ambiguous information on my irritable mind. "All will be well"—yes, all will be well when I am in my grave, if I am deserted and forgotten! Write to me; write only these three words, "Horace loves you," then all will be well with
R. Cowley.
A short letter from Miss Hardcastle indicating the success of Mr. Freeman's interference, without any mention of his apprehension on the subject of Horace's health, reached Miss Cowley by return of post. The subjoined letter will, speak for itself.