"I shall not attempt to describe the rage of the fathers on this occasion; six months elapsed without their being able to discover the place of her retreat; when her aunt, who had for years estranged herself from all intercourse with the family, arrived at Holly seat, and, with great formality, acquainted her brother his daughter had taken refuge with her, and, hoping by that time his resentment had subsided, had engaged her to attempt a reconciliation. The old gentleman appeared delighted; a messenger was dispatched for her, and, on her arrival, she was received with every demonstration of joy and affection! The calm, however, was deceitful; for the next morning he led her to the chapel, where Sir Horace and his son were waiting, and there forced her to give her hand to the latter! Could happiness result from such an union?—Oh no! What followed might naturally have been expected; indifference on one side, disgust on the other.
Soon after the nuptials, Mrs. Corbet's aunt died; and, considering her niece highly injured by the measures which had been pursued, left her the whole of her fortune, amounting to thirty thousand pounds, independent of her husband. In less than a twelvemonth Mr. Holly died, leaving them eight thousand a year: Sir Horace survived his friend but a few weeks, and Sir Henry succeeded to nearly fifteen thousand a year more. Their decease, however, which a year before would have been the means of Lady Corbet's happiness, was then of no avail; the gentleman on whom her early affections had been placed, on hearing of her marriage, retired to France, where he literally died of a broken heart.
"Sir Henry now, uncontrolled by parental authority, yielded to the wildest passions of his heart. The mild dignity of his wife was disregarded, her beauty insufficient to restrain him from illicit connexions, and, whilst she was restricted with a parsimonious hand to her marriage settlement, she had the mortification of beholding immense property squandered on his worthless mistresses. As a landlord and master, Sir Henry was certainly beloved; but his character as a husband degenerated into that of a brutal tyrant.
"Soon after the decease of her father, Lady Corbet was delivered of a son, and in him (being deprived of all other) she concentrated her future happiness.
"On my first return from America, as I yesterday informed you, I passed some months at Bath, where I was introduced to Lady Corbet, and, had she been single, I should have said, Here Talton rest for ever!—as it was, nothing passed but what the strictest prude might have witnessed, though the censuring world imputed actions to me, I was innocent of, even in intention. Sir Henry was on an excursion with some friends, when I first became acquainted with his family; on his return, Lady Corbet presented me to him; he scarcely deigned a perceptible bow, but, throwing himself into a chair, called for his son, who was then about five years old, and, without once addressing me, amused himself in talking to, and answering his infantine questions. I regarded Lady Corbet with a look, I believe, sufficiently expressive of my surprise at his unpoliteness; the silent tear trembled in her eye, and, with a sigh which seemed to say, it was such behaviour as she was used to, she walked to the window. I had then an opportunity of observing Sir Henry. He was rather small in his person, his eyes black and penetrating, and his face expressive of care and discontent.
"He continued playing with the child some time; then, starting up—'Has your ladyship any commands to the St. Ledger family?' 'None, sir,' answered Lady Corbet, attempting to speak with unconcern. 'If you have, you must write to-night; as I depart for London early to-morrow morning;' then taking the child by the hand, without even bowing to me, left the room.
"The emotions Lady Corbet had endeavoured to repress, then gained the ascendancy, and she burst into tears. The subject was delicate; I, however, ventured to speak, though I could offer little consolation. It was then she acquainted me with the preceding particulars, and regretted the obdurate infatuation of her father, who had sacrificed her happiness for the possession of wealth.
"Sir Henry, as I was afterwards informed, swayed by the report which was circulated of my attentions to his lady, insisted on her accompanying him to London; and as I soon after left England, I neither saw nor heard any thing of her till about a year and a half since; when, being in London, I one morning went to breakfast with Sir John Dursley, and was there surprised by the appearance of Lady Corbet. Her dress instantly informed me she was a widow; yet, as knowing her abhorrence of Sir Henry, I was perplexed to account for the sorrow depicted in her countenance.
"The mystery was soon explained. For some time after my departure, Sir Henry's conduct and behaviour continued invariably the same, when her happiness received an additional shock, by the total alienation of his affections from his son, who, as his years and sensibility increased, severely felt the estrangement, which produced an habitual melancholy. His amusements were disregarded; company became disagreeable; and the only pleasure or recreation he seemed to experience, or would take, was in wandering through the grounds and plantations; where, when the servants his anxious mother sent in search of him, could not trace his haunts, he used even to pass the night.
"At last Sir Henry fell a victim to a decline: he still retained his dislike to his son; but, to make his lady amends, as he termed it, for the unhappiness he had occasioned her, he left her every part of his fortune, without restriction, exclusive of the family estate (about eight thousand a year) which the present Sir Henry comes to the possession of, on attaining his one-and-twentieth year.