The Children of the Abbey: A Tale

by Regina Maria Roche

Lady Martha shook her head, and Amanda had laid her hand upon the lock, when Lady Martha said suddenly, “There were letters passed between you and Lord Mortimer.” Amanda bowed. “They had better be mutually returned,” said Lady Martha. “Do you seal up his and send them to Lord Cherbury’s house in London, directed to me, and I will pledge myself to have yours returned.” “You shall be obeyed, madam,” replied Amanda, in a low, broken voice, after the pause of a moment. Lady Martha then said she would no longer encroach upon her rest, and she retired.

In her chamber, the feelings she had so long, so painfully tried to suppress, broke forth without again meeting opposition. The pride which had given her transient animation was no more; for, as past circumstances arose to recollection, she could not wonder at her being condemned from them. She no longer accused Lady Martha in her mind of severity—no longer felt offended with her; but, oh! Mortimer, the bitter tears she shed fell not for herself alone; she wept to think thy destiny, though more prosperous, was not less unhappy than her own; for in thy broken accents, thy altered looks, she perceived a passion strong and sincere as ever for her, and well she knew Lady Euphrasia not calculated to soothe a sad heart, or steal an image from it which corroded its felicity. Rest, after the incidents of the evening, was not to be thought of, but nature was exhausted, and insensibly Amanda sunk upon the bed in a deep sleep—so insensibly, that when she awoke, which was not till the morning was pretty far advanced, she felt surprised at her situation. She felt cold and unrefreshed from having lain in her clothes all night, and when she went to adjust her dress at the glass, was surprised at the pallidness of her looks. Anxious to escape a second painful meeting, she went to the window to see if the chaise was come, but was disappointed on finding that she had slept at the back of the house. She heard no noise, and concluded the family had not yet risen after the amusements of the preceding night, sat down by the window which looked into a spacious garden, above which rose romantic hills that formed a screen for some young and beautiful plantations that lay between them and the garden; but the misty tops of the hills, the varied trees which autumn spread over the plantations, nor the neat appearance of the garden, had power to amuse the imagination of Amanda. Her patience was exhausted after sitting some time, and going to the door she softly opened it, to try if she could hear any one stirring. She had not stood long, when the sound of footsteps and voices rose from below. She instantly quitted her room, and descended the stairs into a small hall, across which was a folding-door; this she gently opened, and found it divided the hall she stood in from the one that was spacious and lofty, and which her passing through the preceding night before it was lighted up had prevented her taking notice of. Here, at a long table, were the men servants belonging to the family, and the guests assembled at breakfast, the piper at the head, like the king of the feast. Amanda stepped back the moment she perceived them, well knowing Lord Mortimer’s servants would recollect her, and was ascending the stairs to her room to ring for one of the maids, when a servant hastily followed her, and said the family were already in the breakfast-room. At the same moment, Mr. Colin Macqueen came from a parlor which opened into the little hall, and paying Amanda, in a lively and affectionate manner, the compliments of the morning, he led her to the parlor, where not only all the family guests who had lain in the house, but several gentlemen, who had been with them the preceding night, were assembled. Doctor Johnson has already celebrated a Scotch breakfast, nor was the one at which Mrs. Macqueen and her fair daughters presided inferior to any he had seen. Beside chocolate, tea, and coffee, with the usual appendages, there were rich cakes, choice sweetmeats, and a variety of cold pastry, with ham and chickens, to which several of the gentlemen did honor. The dishes were ornamented with sweet herbs and wild flowers, gathered about the feet of the mountains and in the valley, and by every guest was placed a fine bouquet from the green-house, with little French mottoes on love and friendship about them, which, being opened and read, added to the mirth of the company.

“I was just going to send one of the girls for you,” said Mrs. Macqueen, when Amanda had taken a place at the table, “and would have done so before, but wished you to get as much rest as possible, after your fatiguing journey.” “I assure you, madam,” said Amanda, “I have been up this long time, expecting every moment a summons to the chaise.” “I took care of that last night,” said Mrs. Macqueen, “for I was determined you should not depart, at least without breakfasting.” Amanda was seated between Mr. Colin Macqueen and his eldest sister, and sought, by conversing with the former, for the latter was too much engrossed by the general gayety to pay much attention to any one, to avoid the looks she dreaded to see. Yet the sound of Lord Mortimer’s voice affected her as much almost as his looks.

“Pray, Lady Martha,” said the second Miss Macqueen, a lively, thoughtless girl, “will your ladyship be so good as to guarantee a promise Lord Mortimer has just made me, or rather that I have extorted from him, which is the cause of this application?” “You must first, my dear,” answered Lady Martha, “let me know what the promise is.” “Why, gloves and bridal favors; but most unwillingly granted, I can assure your ladyship.” Amanda was obliged to set down the cup she was raising to her lips, and a glance stole involuntarily from her towards Lord Mortimer—a glance instantly withdrawn when she saw his eyes in the same direction. “I declare,” continued Miss Phœbe Macqueen, “I should do the favor all due honor.” “I am sure,” cried Lord Mortimer, attempting to speak cheerfully, “your acceptance of it will do honor to the presenter.” “And your lordship may be sure, too,” said one of her brothers, “it is a favor she would wish with all her heart to have an opportunity of returning.” “Oh! in that she would not be singular,” said a gentleman. “What do you think, Miss Donald,” cried Colin Macqueen, turning to Amanda, “do you imagine she would not?” Amanda could scarcely speak. She tried, however, to hide her agitation, and, forcing a faint smile, with a voice nearly as faint, said, “that was not a fair question.” The Miss Macqueens took upon themselves to answer it, and Amanda, through their means, was relieved from farther embarrassment.

Breakfast over, Amanda was anxious to depart, and yet wanted courage to be the first to move. A charm seemed to bind her to the spot where, for the last time, she should behold Lord Mortimer, at least the last time she ever expected to see him unmarried.

Her dread of being late on the road—and she heard the destined stage for the night was at a great distance—at last conquered her reluctance to move, and she said to Mr. Colin Macqueen it was time for her to go. At that moment Lord Mortimer rose, and proposed to the young Macqueens going with them to see the new plantations behind the house, which old Mr. Macqueen had expressed a desire his lordship should give his opinion of.

All the young gentlemen, as well as the Macqueens, Colin excepted, attended his lordship; nor did they depart without wishing Amanda a pleasant journey.

Silent and sad, she continued in her chair for some minutes after they quitted the room, forgetful of her situation, till the loud laugh of the Miss Macqueens restored her to a recollection of it. She blushed, and, rising hastily, was proceeding to pay her farewell compliments, when Mrs. Macqueen, rising, drew her to the window, and in a low voice repeated her request for Amanda’s company a few days. This Amanda again declined, but gratefully expressed her thanks for it, and the hospitality she had experienced. Mrs. Macqueen said, on her return to Scotland, she hoped to be more successful. She also added, that some of her boys and girls would gladly have accompanied Amanda a few miles on her way, had not they all agreed, ere her arrival, to escort Lord Mortimer’s party to an inn at no great distance, and take an early dinner, with them. She should write that day, she said, to Mrs. Duncan, and thank her for having introduced to her family a person whose acquaintance was an acquisition. Amanda, having received the affectionate adieus of this amiable woman and her daughters, curtseyed, though with downcast looks, to Lady Martha and Lady Araminta, who returned her salutation with coolness.

Followed by two of the Miss Macqueens, she hurried through the hall, from which the servants and the breakfast things were already removed, but how was she distressed when the first object she saw outside the door was Lord Mortimer, by whom stood Colin Macqueen—who had left the parlor to see if the chaise was ready—and one of his brothers. Hastily would she have stepped forward to the chaise, had not the gallantry of the young men impeded her way. They expressed sorrow at her not staying longer among them, and hopes on her return she would.