"I mean to pass over the period which passed after poor Mrs. Flint married Sir Murdock Maclairn. Tarefield-hall was no less fatal to her tranquillity, than to mine. But she was the victim of usurped power; I was the willing captive of sin. I still, however, bore up against conscience. I had laid out my ill-gotten gains in the purchase of this mill and land; and Mr. Flamall advised me to rebuild, instead of repairing the south end of the house, saying I should have a nest for my old age, and be always near my good mistress. This object, for a time, filled my thoughts. It was finished, and Miss Flint's great pleasure seemed to render it comfortable. She observed, that my health declined, and with great kindness listened to my plan of quitting her service.
"I was rejoiced at this relief. In the evening my lady sent me a hamper with wine and other articles of comfort; and a box containing household linen, with a kind note. I was weary with my day's exertions, and requested the miller's wife to place the trunk of linen in my bed-room; she did so; and supported it on two chairs, in order to elevate it for my ease, when I unpacked it. I soon repaired to my bed; a glass of wine had raised my spirits. Whilst undressing myself, I felt a ray of comfort. I was my own mistress; I had a competency; and by riding a double horse, and managing myself with care, my health might return. The good woman who attended me, encouraged these hopes, and left me to enjoy them. But they were fleeting to a mind diseased like mine! Some part of my gown by chance hung over the trunk, which was in my view from the bed. The moon threw its light on the object; and my imagination gave to it the shape and appearance of a coffin. Mrs. Howard rushed into my mind, and the usual train of thought succeeded. Feverish and sleepless, I counted the hours as they passed, till four in the morning, when nature sunk to unquiet repose. I dreamed that I was with my old master, that he was struggling with me, to prevent my looking into the coffin, telling me that it was his, not Mrs. Howard's. My force prevailed, I opened it; and saw only an infant in it, whom I took to my bosom, for it was cold and naked; it uttered a piercing cry, and fell into dust. I awoke: a faint sweat bedewed my whole frame, and an oppression on my chest was for some minutes insupportable. Yet my eyelids were heavy, and again I dosed. I was now, in imagination, closed up in Mrs. Howard's coffin, and striving to put aside her mouldering bones, when a voice bade me repent and live. To this appalling admonition succeeded new terrors. I thought I was flying from my habitation, which was falling, from the convulsion of the ground, in a dreadful earthquake. I sought the hall; it was levelled to the dust. Mrs. Howard, like an angel bright in glory, stood before it. She turned towards me, and said, 'Behold! and tremble!' I started at the loudness of her voice, and the severity of her countenance. The bed trembled under me with my agitations. I dreaded to slumber again. The morning sun rose bright; all nature smiled; the birds raised to heaven their hymn of joy. I sunk on my knees: I endeavoured to send up a petition to infinite Mercy. My lips were closed and parched: my tongue heart was dumb. I wept bitterly; for my mind was contrite, and my soul was humbled before an offended God. Surely these tears reached the throne of grace! for kneeling as I was, with my bursting head supported by the bed, I slept peaceably till I heard the family moving below stairs."
"Was this the pillow of repose for which I had given up my everlasting peace? My soul sickens at the thought! An alms-house, a cave in the earth is preferable to this abode! Let me fly to a spot where I am not known. My God is a reconcilable God: my Redeemer still liveth! The outstretched arm of infinite justice may be suspended by my repentance; by my bitter repentance! My weakness and my ignorance cannot produce any benefit to the injured. Alas! will it be allowed me to plead, that these betrayed me to guilt, to cruelty, to wretchedness; and that I cannot remedy, though wishing so to do, the least of the mischiefs I have done?"
I shall make no comments, my Lucy, on these extraordinary and affecting papers: they evidently make only a part of a more detailed confession. But we may ask,
"What is this secret sin, this untold tale,
"That art cannot extract, nor penance cleanse?"
MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
For I cannot persuade myself that Mrs. Barnes's guilt went no farther, than being subservient to Mrs. Howard's cruel treatment when her love affair was discovered.
I intend to see the good Mrs. Crofts, and to say that I think the papers can be of no use; being evidently nothing more than the effects of a disturbed mind and a great depression of spirits.