On their way to Kensington, the tenderness of Amanda at once conciliated the affection, and gained the entire confidence of her young companion. She related the little history of her parents’ sorrows. Her father, on returning from America, with his wife and six children, had been advised by Mr. Heathfield, the friend who had effected a reconciliation between him and his uncle, to commence a suit against Lady Greystock, on the presumption that the will, by which she enjoyed Sir Geoffry’s fortune, was illegally executed. He offered him his purse to carry on the suit, and his house for an habitation. Rushbrook gratefully and gladly accepted both offers, and having disposed of his commission, to discharge some present demands against him, he and his family took up their residence under Mr. Heathfield’s hospitable roof. In the midst of the felicity enjoyed beneath it, in the midst of the hopes their own sanguine tempers, and the flattering suggestions of the lawyers had excited, a violent fever carried off their benevolent friend, ere a will was executed, in which he had promised largely to consider Rushbrook. His heir, narrow and illiberal, had long feared that his interest would be hurt by the affection he entertained for Rushbrook; and, as if in revenge for the pain this fear had given, the moment he had the power he showed his malignant disposition, sold all the furniture of the house at Kensington, and as a great favor told Rushbrook, he might continue in it till the expiration of the half year, when it was to be given up to the landlord. The lawyers understanding the state of his finances, soon informed him he could no longer expect their assistance. Thus, almost in one moment, did all his pleasing prospects vanish, and,
“Like the baseless fabric of a vision, Left not a rack behind.”
As a duty he owed his family, he tried whether Lady Greystock would make a compromise between justice and avarice, and afford him some means of support. Her insolence and inhumanity shocked him to the soul; and as he left her presence, he resolved never to enter it again, or to apply to her. This last resolution, however, only continued till the distresses of the family grew so great as to threaten their existence, particularly that of his wife, who, overpowered by grief, had sunk into a languishing illness, which every day increased for want of proper assistance.
In hopes of procuring her some, he was tempted again to apply to Lady Greystock. The youth and innocence of his daughter would, he thought, if anything could do it, soften her flinty heart. Besides, he believed that pleasure, at finding his pretensions to the fortune entirely withdrawn, would influence her to administer from it to his wants.
“We have,” said Miss Rushbrook, as she concluded her simple narration, “tried, and been disappointed in our last resource. What will become of us, I know not; we have long been strangers to the comforts, but even the necessaries of life we cannot now procure.” “Comfort,” cried Amanda, “often arrives when least expected. To despair, is to doubt the goodness of a Being who has promised to protect all his creatures.”
The carriage had now reached Kensington, and within a few yards of Rushbrook’s habitation. Amanda stopped it. She took Miss Rushbrook’s hand, and as she slipped a ten-pound note into it, exclaimed: “I trust the period is not far distant, when the friendship we have conceived for each other may be cultivated under more fortunate auspices.”
Miss Rushbrook opened the folded paper. She started, and “the hectic of a moment flushed her cheek.” “Oh! madam!” she cried, “your goodness—" tears impeded her further utterance.
“Do not distress me,” said Amanda, again taking her hand, “by mentioning such a trifle; was my ability equal to my inclination, I should blush to offer it to your acceptance. As it is, consider it as but the foretaste of the bounty which heaven has, I doubt not, in store for you.”
She then desired the door to be opened, and told her companion she would no longer detain her. Miss Rushbrook affectionately kissed her hand, and exclaimed, “You look like an angel, and your goodness is correspondent to your looks. I will not, madam, refuse your bounty. I accept it with gratitude, for those dearer to me than myself. But ah! may I not indulge a hope of seeing you again. You are so kind, so gentle, madam, that every care is lulled into forgetfulness whilst conversing with you.”
“I shall certainly see you again as soon as possible,” replied Amanda.