"'This letter,' continued my mother, 'occasioned all the distress that it was calculated to produce on the mind of your sister. Her husband consoled her with sanguine hopes, arising from his prospects in this cruel separation. His brother Oliver was very rich, had buried all his children, and had promised to provide amply for him, on condition he paid him a visit. He would be a mediator he stood in need of with his uncle; and his sister Lucretia's letter was brought forwards in proof of her affection. He also exulted in his prudence. 'I have not,' said he, 'a single debt that I fear leaving to my tutor's examination. My wife will have a little supply, and Providence has rendered my best friend useful to my first of earthly blessings.' He quitted us, leaving his sister's remittance with his wife. His letters from the hall and till he embarked were cordials to Margaret. In his last from London, was inclosed another bill of a hundred pounds, and in this he suggested the expediency of our retiring into the country. We had already determined on so doing. Your sister advanced in her pregnancy, and concealment was becoming daily necessary. From this time we have not heard from Mr. Flint. During the course of these events,' pursued my mother, 'poor Mrs. Montrose was suddenly removed by an apoplectic fit. Her family was broken up. Charles went to the south; and Miss Montrose took a situation as governess in a family at Leith. I shall only say,' continued she weeping, 'that during these trials Fanny Montrose was our consolation. She also is removed from us! A Mr. Lindsey, the head clerk in Mr. Maclin's office, married her; and they removed to London, with advantageous views of his going abroad as supercargo to the West Indies in a ship of Mr. Maclin's. Poor Margaret, who had not recovered from her lying-in, and the shock of losing her little boy, whom grief had prepared for a speedy grave, sunk under the loss of her affectionate Fanny, and the doubts which distracted her: she will soon quit this world of sorrow!'
"It is needless to mention to you, Mr. Hardcastle," added Sinclair, "the inducements I had for suppressing those resolutions from appearing, which, as a man, and as the guardian and only prop of an injured sister, it became me to adopt. To comfort and to sooth was my business whilst I remained with her; and her spirits relieved from the oppressive secret with me, became more composed. In the third week of the four which I was permitted to be absent from my vessel, then undergoing some necessary repairs, we were one morning surprised into a state of more imminent danger to Margaret's life than any she had hitherto sustained. A double letter was delivered to my mother by the servant-maid, in my sister's presence. She saw the address, and uttering a faint scream, instantly fainted. The contents of Philip's letter will better please you, than a description of the alarm which it produced," added Sinclair smiling. "To my mother he recommends the utmost caution in the delivery of the one enclosed 'to his beloved wife, to his long lost and only blessing.' To Margaret he writes with incoherent joy. His brother Oliver was stiled 'his saving angel,' 'his more than father:' 'Providence in rescuing him from the blackest treachery, had in its mercy, he confidently trusted, preserved her. She could not, it was not possible that she could have believed him a faithless villain, unless the same wickedness which had been employed to destroy him, had reached her.' This letter concluded with ample instructions, to repair immediately to London; where his brother's agent would receive her, and provide for her immediate passage to him. An unlimited credit on this gentleman, with a draft for two hundred pounds on a banker at Edinburgh, were inclosed, with a positive injunction written by the good old man, to take care of herself as well as of the dear infant: to bring with her a female servant, qualified to be useful to her, as well as the nurse; and to be heedful about fashions, he having promised some of the girls, who had been unsuccessfully employed in setting their caps at Philip, the pattern of the one which had gained his heart. Poor Margaret on reading this passage forgot for a time her joy; but the hurry of the moment and my presence, checked her useless lamentations. My duty was prescribed. I was resolved never to lose sight of her till she was in her husband's arms. When in London I made some inquiries respecting this Flamall. From what I could collect from Margaret relative to her husband's opinion of this worthy uncle, I made no doubt of his having been the cause of all the mischief. The character he bears in London justifies me in this suspicion; for I was informed, that he had the talents of a swindler, and the impudence to face any danger but the frown of an honest man. I shall put this to the test whenever we meet."—"You would do much, better," observed I, "to turn him over to those as well disposed as yourself to rid the world of a rascal; and who have not your impediments in their way. Remember that your sister's worthy husband is his nephew; and beware of breaking into the happiness which now invites her to Jamaica."—"We shall see," answered he rising, "much will depend on my knowing the particulars of this story. I am no Drawcansir; but by G-d he shall find me a Sinclair!"—We returned to the ladies; and after dining with my new friends, and drinking to the health of Philip Flint, with the utmost sincerity of heart, I escaped from Sinclair's toasts of Miss Cowley, with a head still sufficiently cool to detail my adventure to his lordship. He has done what he never fails to do; he has entered with the most lively interest into my concerns. Sinclair has letters from him to the governor of Jamaica and some others of his father's connections. He dined with Mrs. Flint; and was charmed by her sweet and modest manners. She is one of the prettiest women I ever saw. The perfect symmetry of her form and features is wonderful! and with an expression of innocent vivacity and an infantile simplicity, she appears the beautiful school-girl, rather than the wife. She wants not solidity; for with some address she entered on the subject of her past troubles; and with a direct application to mine, bade me never despair, for that virtue would always attain its recompence. "You will have friends in Jamaica," added she affectionately, "who, in their own happiness, will not forget yours nor Miss Cowley's interest. Be assured of this, and contrive to inform the young lady that my husband will vigilantly watch his uncle. Philip is, Mr. Hardcastle, the most amiable and worthy of the human race! I was always convinced that he could not desert me; and I am certain he will serve Miss Cowley if he can."
I have seen my friends depart from this port. The ship sailed on Sunday evening. Sinclair will write to me immediately on reaching Jamaica.—My father will expect to hear something of my health and pursuits. I have no inducements to wish the former of these articles better than it is: the latter are such as will not disgrace him or myself. To any nearer inquiry I cannot reply to his satisfaction, without deviating from that sincerity and truth, which he has taught me to respect even with more veneration than himself. I wish I were able to deceive myself in regard to my dear friend Lord William. Alas, Lucy, he must die! Nothing can save him from the ravages of the cruel though insidious destroyer. He knows this; and it is his concealed wish to die any where rather than at home. "My absence," said he to me the other evening, "has prepared my mother for the more final separation. She will not see my last struggle, nor hear my last sigh. Her home will not be a perpetual remembrance of my funeral obsequies. I will winter at the Madeiras, Hardcastle, in order to be more remote from her." Poor fellow! amiable as thou art, what can lessen the sorrow which thou art doomed to inflict, long before that period, on all who know thee? I think he cannot live two months!
Yours, affectionately,
Horace Hardcastle.
Here also is found a break of a few weeks in the correspondence between the friends. Letters, however, regularly passed from and to Lisbon, and the animated Miss Cowley, with renewed health and gaiety, thus continues her correspondence to Heathcot.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Jackass.
[2] A convent near Lisbon, so called from being built of the Cork-tree.