^' 
 
\ 
 
 w 
 

 
 -^ ^^>/^>r 
 
THE 
 
 FATAL CABINET ; 
 
 OR THE 
 
 PROFLIGATE MOTHER. 
 
 TWO VOLUMES IN ONE. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY ISAIAH THOMAS, Jr. 
 
 NO. 5 CORNHILL-SQUARE. 
 
 Samuel Avery, printer — 10 State-Street. 
 1810. 
 
3/3 a?2 
 
 THE 
 
 FATAL CABINET ; 
 
 ORTBE 
 
 PROFLIGATE MOTHER. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 In the north of England long had lived a 
 family highly respectable in its descent; and 
 Avhose affluent circumstances ensured them 
 every luxury and comfort the world could 
 bestow. The doors of hospitality were 
 opened with a liberal welcome, and the 
 master's generous spirit was conspicuous 
 in every domestic arrangement. — Henry 
 Grosvenor, the son and heir of a man so 
 respected and beloved, became in due time 
 the possessor of a noble and improving es- 
 tate, and of course inherited all the wealth 
 of his lamented father. — He married a wo- 
 man, whose beauty was her chief recom- 
 mendation ; he had long admired the bloom- 
 ing graces of her person, nor till too late 
 
4 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 did he discover the deficiencies of her head 
 and heart. Formed by nature for the en- 
 dearing comforts of domestic life, and dis- 
 appointed of the fair prospects which the 
 romance of a youthful imagination had 
 pourtrayed, he at first yielded to all t'^e 
 whims and caprices of a young and beauti- 
 ful wife ; he indulged her in frequent visits 
 to London, where she enjoyed without re- 
 straint all the gaiety of fashionable dissipa- 
 tion. The birth of a daughter he naturally 
 hoped would have led her mind to more 
 domestic pursuits and occupations; he re- 
 gretted that a son and heir had not gratified 
 his anxious wishes, but he was doomed to 
 repeated disappointments. Another child 
 was never born alive, greatly owing to the 
 imprudence of his thoughtless wife ; and 
 the constant reflection that he might have 
 been the happy father of a blooming boy, 
 
 c contributed to estrange his regard from his 
 still lovely, but volatile companion ; and 
 
 ' he often sought relief from domestic griev- 
 ances in the midnight revels of unthinking 
 dissipation. Mrs. Grosvenor, instead of 
 endeavouring torecall him to the path of 
 reason, rendered home a continual scene of 
 misery, by imprudent reproaches, or absurd 
 lamentations. Repeated altercations blunt- 
 ed the edge of affection, and except when 
 her husband was surrounded by company, 
 
 m, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 5 
 
 the smile of satisfaction was banished from 
 his countenance, and his whole character 
 seemed to have undergone a fatal alteration. 
 The playful graces of his little girl some- 
 times yielded him a momentary interest 
 and amusement, for she grew healthy and 
 beautiful, notwithstanding the neglect 
 which she experienced from her mother ; 
 and Mr. Grosvenor could not sometimes 
 avoid seriously reflecting on the injustice 
 he was guilty of, in permitting the mind of 
 his child to remain so long uncultivated. 
 Her mother either treated her with unli- 
 mited indulgence or undue severity; for 
 moderation never marked the limits of Mrs, 
 Grosvenor's conduct. 
 
 At length Mr. Grosvenor's health began 
 to decline; a fall from his horse, when ri- 
 ding home from a convivial party, seemed 
 to have fixed some alarming complaints, 
 and his constitution appeared to be injured 
 by bodily infirmity and mental uneasiness* 
 The child now more seriously engaged his 
 attention ; he resolved and speedily execu- 
 ted a plan which had only before been cas- 
 ually thought of. He immediately placed 
 her under the tuition of a gentlewoman, 
 who was born to better prospects, and who, 
 to ensure to herself independence and com- 
 fort, took a limited number of pupils, to 
 whose education and morals she did ample 
 1 ♦ 
 
6 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 justice ; and when Emily Grosvenor had 
 attained her fourteenth year, the improve- 
 ment of her mind was truly gratifying to 
 her father ; and every vacation had taught 
 him what an interesting object she was be- 
 coming to his heart. Mrs. Grosvenor, pos- 
 sessing no atfections beyond what self-in- 
 terest called forth, met and parted with 
 her daughter with perfect indifference ; and 
 as Emily was very little and delicate of hep 
 age, she hoped that school would be her 
 abode for some years to come. 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor's complaints alarmingly 
 increased ; indisposition made him irrita- 
 ble, and he never could suppress his regret 
 that heaven had not blessed him with a 
 son, as the estate so long in lineal descent 
 would become, at his death, the property 
 of a very distant relation. Still he intend- 
 ed to provide affluently for his wife and 
 child, and wished to be just in the distri- 
 bution of his fortune ; but procrastinated 
 (as he termed it) the mournful employment 
 of making his will. The physicians re- 
 commended a change of climate ; Mrs. 
 Grosvenor seconded the idea, for to her 
 restless and vacant mind any thing was 
 preferable to the dull monotony of domes- 
 tic life, rendered more melancholy, from 
 the state of her husband's health ; she hoped 
 that Emily would never be left independent 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 7 
 
 of her: it suited, therefore, her future plans, 
 to appear affected at Mr. Grosvenor's ill- 
 ness, and, by every attention in her power, 
 endeavour to connteriici the unfavourable 
 imf)ressions her former conduct must have 
 made upon his mind. 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor often attempted to laugh 
 at the anxiety of his friends, and the pre- 
 scriptions of his medical attendants, but 
 he at last consented to try the effects of a 
 more genial climate; and, when every thing 
 was arranged for his departure, Emily was 
 sent for home to take leave of her parents, 
 her father wisely determining to leave her 
 under the care of the amiable woman she 
 had been placed with. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor, who always had tears at 
 her command, wept upon the bosom of her 
 daughter, and lamented with clamorous sor- 
 row that their parting was inevitable. 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor^s feelings evaporated not 
 in wofds ; exhortation died upon his lips, 
 and he gave and received in mournful si- 
 lence the oft repeated and parting embrace. 
 His health remained so fluctuating, that he 
 was absent two years, and then expired, as 
 he imagined, in the arms of a repentant 
 wife. She had succeeded by her art and 
 blandishments in every wish ; his last will 
 was made as she directed ; Emily was left 
 dependent on her mother! the imbecilitv 
 
» THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 of Mr. Grosvenor's mind during the last 
 months of his life, and the specious argu- 
 ments of his wife, had caused this act of 
 folly and injustice ; and, from some reasons 
 which may hereafter be developed, she re- 
 mained abroad six months after the death 
 of her husband. Poor Emily had written 
 frequently to her with all the affection of a 
 daughter ; but young as she was, she did 
 not feel quite satisfied with her mother's 
 laconic answers. Still, as hope and ex- 
 pectation ever agitate the elastic mind of 
 youth, she pursued her studies with avidi- 
 ty, and looked forward to her mothers re- 
 turn to England with impatient anxiety. 
 
 At length the expected period arrived. 
 An elegant house, and all things appro- 
 priate, were in readiness for the reception 
 of the widow. Her doors were soon open- 
 ed to the gay and inconsiderate, and the 
 lovely Mrs. Grosvenor became an object of 
 attention in the circle of fashionable life. 
 The most studied dress, which the slightest 
 mourning could authorise, contributed to 
 set off the remains of that beauty which it 
 had ever been her study to preserve ; and 
 as her fortune was reputed to be afflnent, 
 she was flattered and caressed by all. — 
 Among the candidates for her favour, Sir 
 George Sinclair was pre-eminently distin- 
 guished ; with a dissipated mind and ruined 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 9 
 
 i'ortuiie, he was in constant debate with 
 himself, whether Mrs. Grosvenor's money 
 would compensate for being incumbered 
 with her person. He, therefore, contrived 
 to keep her in suspense and uneasiness on 
 the subject ; sometimes playing the lover 
 to perfection, and sometimes regarding her 
 with total indifference. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor had invited a distant re- 
 lation to live with her ; the motives which 
 dictated the invitation were neither the 
 wish for lier society, nor the hope of adding 
 to her comfort. The true spirit of liberali- 
 ty was a stranger to Mrs. Grosvenor's bo- 
 som ; self was the goddess of her idolatry, 
 and the weakness of intellect was only 
 counteracted by the despicable artifices of 
 vanity and cunning. She detested any oc- 
 cupation which brought with it care or 
 trouble; she knew that a family required 
 regulation and management ; that Emily 
 must ere long become an inmate of her 
 house, and she calculated that this female 
 relation could manage her domestic con- 
 cerns, and be useful in the general care of 
 her expected child, as she always affected 
 to call her absent daughter. 
 
 Maria Sandford soon became the conve- 
 nient cousin and the humble friend, never 
 presuming to discover any folly or impru- 
 dence in Mrs. Grosvenor's uncertain con" 
 duct» 
 
10 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Sir George Sinclair continued his usual 
 behaviour — to be Lady Sinclair suited Mrs. 
 Grosvenor's ambition ; and she sometimes 
 seriously thought of requesting an expla- 
 nation of his sentiments ; but she dreaded 
 the result of such an enquiry, and content- 
 ed herself with giving him every possible 
 encouragement. 
 
 She intended to keep Emily at school for 
 some time longer ; but the following letter, 
 given to her at the moment of an interest- 
 ing tete-a-tete with Sir George Sinclair, 
 deranged her ideal plans, and obliged her to 
 receive Emily without delay. 
 
 To Mrs, Grosvenor. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " An unexpected event obliges me to 
 decline my present occupation. I am un- 
 der the necessity of requesting you to re- 
 ceive Miss Grosvenor immediately, as I am 
 compelled to leave England as soon as pos- 
 sible. — I sincerelv hope and believe 1 have 
 performed the duty so long entrusted to me. 
 Your daughter is higfhlv gifted by nature, 
 which has rendered iuy task easy, and her^s 
 not unpleasant. G^-^ntleness will guide her 
 to all that is amiable and ijood ; and that 
 she may ever prove a blessing to you, and 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. U 
 
 an ornament to society, is the sincere wish 
 of, " Madam, 
 
 *' Your respectful and 
 " obedient servant, 
 
 " Jane Mason." 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor read the letter with great 
 perturbation, and tossing it upon the table, 
 manifested so much chagrin and displeas- 
 ure, that Sir George Sinclair, being in one 
 of his tender moods, entreated to be made 
 acquainted with the cause of her uneasiness. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor, wishing to appear in an 
 amiable light, instantly assumed the tone 
 of affection, begging him to excuse her 
 emotions ; but the idea of clasping a child 
 to her bosom, whom she had not seen for 
 two long years, was almost too much for 
 her agitated spirits ; " for Emily^s advan- 
 tage,'/ she said, " she had deprived herself 
 of every maternal comfort ;" and thus con- 
 tinued in so overacted a strain, that Sir 
 George could hardly suppress the smile of 
 incredulity ; and coolly requested to know 
 the age of her little girl. 
 
 When Mrs. Grosvenor parted with Emily 
 she was in her fourteenth year, but so deli- 
 cate in her appearance, that she was seldom 
 thought more than ten years of age, proba- 
 bly forgetting, or wishing to forget, the al- 
 teration two years might have made in Emi- 
 
12 THE /ATAL CABINET. 
 
 ly's person ; she acknowledged the child 
 was then in her fourteenth year ; and pro- 
 ceeded to reprobate the indiscretion ofsome 
 mothers, who introduced babies into scenes 
 of gaiety and dissipation. The entrance of 
 company interrupted this hypocritical ha- 
 rangue ; arid Sir George Sinclair felt more 
 undecided than ever what line of conduct 
 to pursue. Mrs. Grosvenor wrote to the 
 governess, and all things were prepared for 
 the reception of a girl of thirteen years old. 
 On the day fixed lor Emily^s arrival, Mrs. 
 Grosvenor and Maria were particularly en- 
 gaged from home ; but the mother, wisely 
 considering that a child, after a long fatigu- 
 ing journey, would be glad to seek repose, 
 fulfilled her own engagements, and left or- 
 ders with the maid who was hired to attend 
 on Emily, to persuade her to go to bed im- 
 mediately on her arrival, without any con- 
 ciliating affectionate excuse for not being 
 herself at home to receive her. Emily's 
 sorrow in parting with her kind friend and 
 young companions, soon yielded to the 
 throbbing anxiety of her heart, at the idea 
 of meeting her only parent, for long had she 
 mourned the death of a father — long had 
 she remembered their eventful parsing ; she 
 now, with all the enthusiasm of youth, 
 painted the scene she must go through, and 
 even pictured to herself the flowing robes 
 
.THE FATAL CABINET. 13 
 
 ot* widowhood, and the matron-like graces 
 of affectionate regret, on the countenance , 
 of her suffering mother. " What a comfort 
 would she endeavour to be to her ! and 
 might she be permitted to speak of her la- 
 mented father — how soothing would be the 
 reciprocal voice of sympathy !" 
 
 Such were tlie ideas that occupied her 
 mind till she arrived at her mother's house, 
 when, glowing with the undisguised emo- 
 tions of genuine affection, she, with a step 
 of inq.uietude and impatience, bounded up 
 stairs, softly ejaculating, '• Where — where 
 is my mother !" The servants gave way in 
 respectful admiration, and naturally ima- 
 gined some mistake had occurred in this 
 3^oung lady's arrival. The maid who was 
 to be Emily's attendant pressed forward ; 
 but, on a nearer view of the elegant figure 
 before her, stammered out an apology, that 
 Mrs. Grosvenor was not at home, and re- 
 quested to know if her little girl had been 
 detained by any accident on the road. 
 
 Emily, good humourjedly smiling said, 
 " She hoped they would soon be better ac- 
 quainted ; that her name was Grosvenor ;" 
 and then made the tenderest enquiries after 
 the state of her mother's health and spirits. 
 
 Ashamed to offer to such a young lady 
 the childish preparation for supper, the 
 maid lequested to know what refreshment 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
14 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 she would please to order. Choaked with 
 disappointQient, the unbidden tears rolled 
 down her blooming cheeks; she desired to 
 have tea immediately, and she would then 
 retire to bed. On her pillow long did she 
 ruminate on the cause of so uncomfortable 
 a reception ; she had purposely omitted to 
 ask any question of the servants in regard 
 to her mother^s engagement, but charitably 
 concluded some indispensable business had 
 taken her from home, and, with this natu- 
 ral conclusion, she fell asleep, nor did the 
 usual bustle of INIrs. Grosvenor's return 
 disturb the serenity of her repose. The 
 mother's enquiries after the child — of her 
 arrival — and whether she appeared much 
 fatigued, drew only the most laconic an- 
 swers from the domestics ; a sort of stifled 
 laugh agitated their features, and she being 
 out of humour from recent occurrences, 
 dismissed her own maid for the night, with- 
 out attempting to take a view of her sleep- 
 ing Emily, or without making farther in- 
 quiries about her appearance or stature. 
 
 Maria Sandford was more curious — she 
 stole to Emily's bedside, and great was her 
 surprise to behold a beautiful girl, without 
 any traces of that extreme juvenility she 
 had been taught to expect. As far as she 
 could judge, Emily appeared as if she would 
 -prove a formidable rival in every respect. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. <,r3 
 
 When Emily was summoned to her mo- 
 therms dressing-room in the morning, lan- 
 guage is inadequate to describe their dif- 
 ferent emotions, and the almost equal sur- 
 prise which marked their respective fea- 
 tures. Emily was flying into the arms of 
 her mother, but involuntarily stopped with- 
 in a few yards of the sopha ; for she saw 
 there reclining, not the interesting figure 
 of suppressed sorrow, but the elegant em- 
 blem of taste and fashion ; not the maternal 
 cheek glowing with hope and fond expec- 
 tation, but varnished by art, and eyes ani- 
 mated by the astonishment of the moment, 
 not suffused by the tears of painful or pleas- 
 ing agitation. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor beheld in Emily — not 
 the little delicate creature she had parted 
 with, but a lovely blooming girl, whose 
 height and figure gave every promise of fu- 
 ture perfection. A profusion of auburn 
 hair shaded the brilliancy of her beautiful 
 hazel eyes, the bloom of health animating 
 her features with every expression that 
 could interest a mother^s heart, the symme- 
 try of her form was more peculiarly display- 
 ed from the scanty attire she wore, appear- 
 ing as if she had recently outgrown the 
 garb of childhood ; her fine turned ancle 
 and arm were more conspicuous from this 
 circumstance, than even those of the vota- 
 
Jw THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ries of custom and of fashion. Native mo- 
 desty had suggested the idea of veiling her 
 bosom, and Emily stood before her mother 
 in the attitude of expectation, mingled with 
 ihe fear of disappointment; then, timidly 
 advancing to the sopha, she said, " My dear 
 mamma, how I have longed to see you !" 
 
 " I am really so astonished at the rapid- 
 ity of your growth, Emily; so totally un- 
 prepared for the appearance of a young wo- 
 man (when I consider your childish age) 
 that 1 hardly know in what manner to ad- 
 dress you/^ Emily's feelings received sa 
 severe a check from the coldness of her 
 mother's manner, that she burst into tears, 
 and falteringly said, " If you do but love 
 me, I shall be happy." 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor endeavoured to laugh at 
 the emotions she evinced ; and, saluting 
 her glowing cheek, introduced Maria, en- 
 treating them to prepare the breakfast im- 
 mediateh", as she had many engagements 
 on her list for the morning. The conver- 
 sation then turned upon dress and fashion ; 
 Emily's ideas were bewildered ; and she 
 could hardly believe that this was the meet- 
 ing which she had long looked to with 
 pleasing solicitude; and consternation was 
 added to the feeling of the moment, when 
 Mrs. Grosvenor, suddenly turning towards 
 iier, rather petulantly, requested to know, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 17 
 
 why such a child in years was so wrap- 
 ped up in an odious muslin handkerchief, 
 and with no very gentle effort she instantly 
 removed the incumbrance from her neck. 
 
 At this instant Sir George Sinclair was 
 announced ; Emily, surprised at her mo- 
 ther's action, and vexed and disconcerted 
 at the entrance of a stranger, conceiving her 
 appearance to be highly indecorous, was in 
 a moment suffused with the blush of re- 
 sentment and offended modesty, and with 
 the agility of a school girl, she suddenly 
 escaped from the room. 
 
 Sir George had seen her sufficiently to 
 discover that she was formed in nature's 
 fairest mould ; and requested to know the 
 name of such an angelic creature. 
 
 " If you value the peace of a mother, dear 
 Sir George, do not attempt to bewilder the 
 ideas of my long-expected Emily. She is 
 such a mere child, that I tremble least she 
 should give credit to the detestable arts of 
 flattery," was Mrs. Grosvenor's insidious 
 reply. 
 
 Sir George, wishing to keep upon good 
 terms, wvth this exemplary mother, com- 
 plimented her on Emily being the lovely 
 counterpart of herself, delicately hinting his 
 surprise that Miss Grosvenor was so remark- 
 ably tall of her age, not venturing to sup- 
 pose she had attained her seventeenth year. 
 2 * 
 
IS THE FATAL CABINET, 
 
 For some time Emily was constantly se- 
 cluded from company, and always being 
 spoken of as a child, few took the trouble 
 of inquiring about her. Sir George Sin- 
 clair's attentions were redoubled to the 
 mother, politically encouraging the idea of 
 Emily's extreme youth, and it chance ever 
 threw her in his way, he thought himself 
 authorised to treat her with more freedom 
 than he would have dared to do, had her 
 age been publicly acknowledged. 
 
 Emily passed a dull uncomfortable life ; 
 instead of the tender endearments of mater- 
 nal regard, instead of being properly intro- 
 duced into company, she was generally se- 
 cluded in her own apartment, and confined 
 there when her mother's gay parties assem- 
 bled in the drawing-room. Her own mind 
 furnished her with frequent resources of 
 amusement ; still it was not in nature for a 
 young girl, when the sound of revelry caught 
 lier ear, not to wish to be sometimes admit- 
 ted to partake of its gaiety, nor could her 
 penetration discover why she was continu- 
 ally secluded. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor had never mentioned 
 her husband's name ; Emily often pondered 
 over and wept at this omission, but she had 
 not resolution to begin the affecting sub- 
 ject, and time dully glided on, frequently 
 i occasioning her vain regrets, that she had 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. rj 
 
 left her beloved governess, and her equally- 
 dear coinpani(tns. 
 
 Just at this period, a letter which she re- 
 ceived from a srhooi-fellow, whose family 
 residerl within a lew streets of her mother's 
 house, afforded her comfort, and eventually 
 that variety she so naturally wished tor. 
 
 In the first year ot Emily's beingat school. 
 Miss Fitsmorton manitested tor her the 
 most flattering partiality, and being nearly 
 two years her senior, possessed the power, 
 as well as the inclination, to be both her 
 protectress and her friend. She, however, 
 left school some time before Emily, and was 
 just now returned home from a visit in the 
 country, and hearing that her friend was 
 settled at home, she delayed not to send 
 her the above-mentioned letter. Scarcely 
 a day now passed but Emily and Mary 
 Fitsmorton were to;>ether. Mrs. Grosve- 
 nor felt relieved that her daughter could be 
 so much domesticated in a respectable fani" 
 ily, and took it for granted, that she asso- 
 ciated with people both amiable and good. 
 
 The winter passed pleasantly. Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton was a charming woman, endow- 
 ed with every good quality of the head and 
 the heart; and the lovely neglected Emily 
 could not but with pain draw an unpleasant 
 comparison between her and her own dis- 
 sipated mother. 
 
so THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 It required much art and management for 
 Sir George Sinclair to keep on good terms 
 with Mrs. Grosvenor; her fortune was the 
 magnet of attraction, but Emily's youth 
 and beauty had deeply impressed him with 
 admiration, and although before her mother 
 he affected to treat her as a child, he never 
 let pass any opportunity to whisper in her 
 ear the impassioned language of admiration 
 and flattery ; and had Emily been indepen- 
 dent of her mother, she might have receiv- 
 ed an open avowal of his passion, but pru- 
 dential motives swayed the Baronet, and 
 all things passed on much as usual till the 
 commencement of the ensuing winter, 
 when Sir George Sinclair altered his be- 
 haviour towards Emily. His pecuniary dis- 
 tresses became pressing, and though madly 
 in love with the daughter, something like 
 a declaration of regard had been made to 
 the mother, who endeavoured to appear 
 satisfied with its sincerity. Policy, there- 
 fore, now induced him to treat Emily with 
 respectful attention, claiming the privilege 
 of future relationship to authorise the 
 friendly sentiments he expressed. Emily 
 was pleased at the change in his conduct ; 
 she had always parried his flattery by turn- 
 ing it into ridicule, but sometimes thought 
 his b€haviour to her mother both ambigu- 
 ous and extraordinary, and was much as- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 21 
 
 tonished at the partiality which Mrs. Gros- 
 venor evinced for Sir George Sinclair, for 
 she romantically thought that, from their 
 disparity of years, little happiness could be 
 expected from their union ; and, with many 
 sighs to the memory of her father, she felt 
 it strange that he should be so soon forgot- 
 ten. 
 
 With all Mrs. Grosvenor*s art and man- 
 agement, it was now impossible to prevent 
 Emily's introduction to some of her ac- 
 quaintance,andamore improper circle could 
 hardly be selected for a young vvoman just 
 entering into life. High play, and every 
 species of amusement which could fascinate 
 the senses or mislead the judgment were 
 countenanced by this weak ill-judging wo- 
 man. 
 
 As soon as the novelty of these scenes 
 was over, Emily wished again to be domes- 
 ticated in Mr. Fitsmorton's family ; ration- 
 ality, as far as existing circumstances would 
 permit, marked there the progress of the 
 day. In Mrs. Fitsmorton she ever found a 
 sincere friend and a faithful adviser, ready 
 to promote the innocent pleasures of life, 
 but scrupulously rigid in preserving their 
 proper boundaries. Music, dancing, work- 
 ino:, and reading, passed the hours of socia- 
 bility in this domestic circle; but as in f'v- 
 ery family there is some dark shade to cloud 
 
22 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 its brightest prospects, it may not be unin^ 
 teresting to give a brief account of its pre= 
 sent and former situation. 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton was early married, 
 without her choice, and certainly without 
 her inclination. She would have assimila- 
 ted with the pursuits of her husband, but 
 the moroseness of his temper ever prevent- 
 ed that cordiality so necessary to the hap- 
 piness of a female mind; and shecouid on- 
 ly, by the most prudent management, and 
 the disposition of an angel, soften the mis- 
 eries which threatened her. The arrange- 
 ments of domestic life seldom interested 
 Mr. Fitsmorton ; gaiety overpowered his 
 spirits, and general society was oppressive 
 and troublesome. His meals, even his 
 very dress, were often great sources of in- 
 quietude, and no professor of the culinary 
 art ever took more pains to arrive at perfec- 
 tion, than did his exemplary wife in the 
 directive department of her table. They 
 were blessed with a son and daughter, who, 
 from their v^ery infancy, feared iheir father 
 and idolized their mother. Edward Fits- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. -3 
 
 rnorton was a few years older than his sis- 
 ter, and soon selected from the female 
 groupe he had been introduced to by his 
 mother, a lovely young woman of good fam- 
 ily and fortune, to whom he became so 
 truly attached, that, after overcoming some 
 difficulties, they were happily united. The 
 birth of a daughter seemed to increase their 
 felicity, and even the austerity of Mr. Fits- 
 morton's temper appeared in some measure 
 to relax, when witnessing the harmony of 
 his children. Mary lived at her brother's 
 house almost as much as she did at home ; 
 the child was her delight and her fondest 
 darling, and Mrs. Fitsmorton seemed re- 
 compensed for former inquietudes. When 
 the infant was about three months old, Ed- 
 ward Fitsmorton was seized with a conta- 
 gious fever, which seemed to baffle the 
 power of medical skill; but, after a long 
 and painful struggle, he recovered, to the 
 joy and happiness of all around him. 
 
 Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton, from fatigue 
 and anxiety, had been obliged to wean her 
 little girl, and this fond, this affectionate 
 wife, fell a martyr to her attendance on the 
 bed of sickness. 
 
 To dwell on the scenes which followed, 
 -were a painful and unnecessary task. Ed- 
 ward Fitsmorton deplored his loss, either 
 in the wild effusions of frantic grief, or in 
 
S4 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 the dreadful calmness of apathy and appa^ 
 rent inditfcrence. 
 
 Miss Fiismorton was inconsolable, and 
 lamented vvith unavailing sorrow the loss of 
 her dear and beloved companion. — Indeed 
 so fixed a dejection overpowered her spir- 
 its, that no usual occupation could interest 
 or arouse the faculties of her mind, except 
 attending to the infant and her brother. 
 Gradual was the recovery of his intellectual 
 powers ; and in gratitude to the solicitude 
 of his mother and friends, he attempted to 
 pursue his avocations ; and at in»^ervals to 
 join the family circle; but still he thought 
 happiness was fled for ever ; and the bloom- 
 ing graces of Mary Dalrymple, and her en- 
 dearing conduct as a wife and mother, were 
 remembered with the feelings of despair, 
 when reflecting on the sad change a few 
 short months had made in his prospects. 
 
 When Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton had been 
 dead nearly twelve months, Emily Grosve- 
 nor was first introduced into the family. 
 Miss Fiismorton was still dejected, and 
 frequent fits of abstraction and melancholy 
 overpowered Edward Fitsmorton's deeply 
 wounded mind. Emily esteemed and ho- 
 noured him for such tender proofs of at- 
 tachment, and by every delicate attention 
 in her power she endeavoured to tranquil- 
 lize his agitated spirits. She would some- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 25 
 
 times, unbidden, play over bis favourite 
 lessons, or intreat his assistance in the fin- 
 ishing of some landscape or painting, and 
 was gay or grave, as the humour of his mind 
 prevailed. His little girl soon distinguish- 
 ed her with peculiar regard, which was a 
 very pleasing gratification to Emily's affec- 
 tionate heart. Mr. Fitsmorton's gloomy 
 austerity of manner sometimes interrupted 
 the harmony of the evening ; and Emily 
 fancied that her attentions to him were not 
 so pleasing as upon their first acquaintance ; 
 for she had often ventured to rally him into 
 good humour. When music made his head 
 ache — dancing was too noisy ; and he de- 
 clared drawing precluded conversation ; yet 
 when Emily was absent (as she was some- 
 times obliged to attend her mother's par- 
 ties) Edward was more gloomy than usual, 
 and Mary silently dejected. 
 
 To the great surprise of Emily, Mrs. 
 Grosvenor requested one morning that she 
 would accompany her in the chariot, if she 
 could spare time from the new friends that 
 so much engrossed her attention. 
 
 " Had I known. Madam," (Emily an- 
 swered) " that you ever wished for my com- 
 pany, all engagements should have been 
 suspended." 
 
 " Very dutifully spoken. Miss Grosve- 
 nor : ae shall soon be convinced if your fu- 
 
 vnr.. r. <? 
 
-6 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ture actions correspond with your present 
 professions. The chariot will be at the 
 door in half an hour. I have somethinof of 
 consequence to communicate to you." 
 
 Emily felt disappointed; she was that 
 morning engaged with her friend, Mary 
 Fitsmorton. Edward had been much out 
 of spirits the preceding evening, and had 
 promised he would read some favourite au- 
 thor, whilst they were finishing a set of 
 cambric frocks, which they had voluntarily 
 undertaken to make for his little girl. 
 
 When seated in the carriage with her 
 mother, Mrs. Grosvenor thus addressed her: 
 
 " I have long indulged you, Emily, in 
 the choice and pursuit of your own avoca- 
 tions and amusements, and I wish serious- 
 ly to ask you, who these people are, that 
 seem to have rivalled me in your affection. 
 
 " I hear, from very good authority, that 
 you are receiving the attentions of the dis- 
 consolate widower, if you have not already 
 carried on with him a clandestine corres- 
 pondence." 
 
 Emily's colour heightened — astonish- 
 ment for a moment kept her silent ; but 
 fearing her confusion would be construed 
 into an avowal of the fact, she replied : — 
 
 " Whoever has fabricated and imposed 
 upon j-ott such a story, is neither your 
 friend nor mine : I deny not. Madam, my 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 87 
 
 attachment to the family ; but to have suf- 
 fered a clandestine correspondence with 
 Mr. Edward Fitsmorton, is so highly im- 
 probable, that 1 cannot believe you give 
 credit to the information. — He is so truly 
 attached to the memory of his wife, that a 
 second love will never agitate his bosom." 
 
 " And you positively and unequivocally 
 deny your regard for this extraordinary and 
 immaculate gentleman !" 
 
 " No, Madam, I do not deny ray regard; 
 I love him almost as well as 1 love his sis- 
 ter." 
 
 " A tolerably bold declaration for so 
 young a girl to make ; and you do not then 
 suppose he loves you as well as he loves 
 his sister ?" 
 
 Emily blushed and hesitated : Mrs. 
 Grosvenor had wandered from the point, 
 and added — 
 
 " If he would marry you, do you think 
 your sisterly affection could refuse the ho- 
 nour?" 
 
 " With truth I can affirm — I have never 
 debated with myself on the subject : I think 
 I shall never have the trial ; in all probabil- 
 ity Mr. Edward Fitsmorton will not marry 
 again." 
 
 " Well then, Emily, I much rejoice to 
 find 1 have been mistaken. I am now go- 
 ing to put your sincerity to the test, as you 
 
■n THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 confess that your heart is disengaged. Rank 
 and wealth court your acceptance, nor can 
 I have the least doubt of your ready acqui- 
 escence to my wishes." 
 
 " I hardly comprehend your meaning, 
 Madam." 
 
 *' Affected simplicity cannot impose 
 upon me ; you must imagine 1 mean mar- 
 riage. 
 
 " Lord Sedley made proposals to me in 
 form on your account, and will this after- 
 noon declare himself to you." 
 
 " To prevent such unnecessary trouble, 
 pray, Madam, let him receive through you, 
 my acknowledgments for the honour he 
 intends me, feut I — " 
 
 " Have a care, Emily, let not an unwar- 
 rantable prejudice shade the brilliant career 
 which is opening to your view. You are 
 not now to be told that your father wisely 
 left you dependant upon me, 
 
 " I have such views and expectations for 
 my future life, that must prevent your es- 
 tablishment from my fortune." 
 
 " My father, Madam, only wished you 
 to be Justin its distribution." 
 
 " Hov*^ dare you mention a name which 
 always fills my bosom with unutterable 
 grief; ill should I repay his generous confi- 
 dence, if I permitted the caprice of a way- 
 ward girl to reject the splendour which 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 29 
 
 awaits her. Remember, I will not be tri- 
 fled with ; receive Lord Sedley as your fu- 
 ture h usband, or tremble at my displeasure.^' 
 
 Emily could hardly command her feelings 
 at the tiarsical part her mother was acting, 
 and almost involuntarily she exclaimed — 
 
 *' Surely, Madam, some mistake has oc- 
 curred in this affair; Lord Sedley must 
 mean to make proposals to yourself; as my 
 father-in-law, J would endeavour to respect 
 him.^' 
 
 " The satire of your manner, Miss Gros- 
 venor, is not overlooked; but, mark me, 
 Emily, if you refuse Lord Sedley's addres- 
 ses, I am no longer your mother." 
 
 " I wish to obey you, Madam, in every 
 reasonable command ; but I will never be- 
 come the wife of Lord Sedley." 
 
 She then bore in silence all the violence 
 of her mother's reproaches, nor endeavour- 
 ed to stem their torrent by the shadow of a 
 compromise, and on her return home was 
 assailed on the subject by Maria, who, pur- 
 posely tutored by Mrs. Grosvenor, endeav- 
 oured to point out the various advantaoes 
 of becoming a countess; diamonds, pearls, 
 and carriages, were placed in splendid array- 
 before the inattentive Emily; who, absorb- 
 ed in her own reflections, was only aroused 
 by Miss Sandford confirming the suspicion, 
 that Mrs. Grosvenor would shortly become 
 
 3* 
 
30 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Lady Sinclair. Emily was obliged to give 
 many hints that she wished to be alone, ere 
 this weak-minded young woman took her 
 leave ; and then sad, indeed, were her soli- 
 tary reflections! — She was dependant" on 
 her mother ; she was threatened with be- 
 coming the wife of a man she detested, and 
 might probably be torn from the society of 
 friends who had of late constituted her 
 whole felicity ; but, like most young minds, 
 though hers gave way to the momentary 
 feelings of despair, it as soon recovered its 
 native elasticity. Her good governess, Mrs. 
 Mason, had ever by precept and example 
 inculcated the necessity of a proper exer- 
 tion of fortitude and resolution on every 
 occasion, and Emily began now to experi- 
 ence its salutary effects. She determined 
 that no human power should force her to 
 marry Lord Sedley. She would consult 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton on the subject, and with 
 feelings of the deepest regret she again drew 
 the comparison of the different characters 
 of Mary's mother and her own. 
 
 When summoned to dinner. Lord Sedley, 
 appearing like the destroyer of her late 
 happy prospects, he was treated by her with 
 proud indifference. — In vain the displeas- 
 ure of her mother's countenance, in vain 
 the flattering compliments of the enamour- 
 ed peer. — She remained provokingly silent. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. n-t 
 
 only planning some scheme to escape the 
 dreaded declaration. By her mother's con- 
 trivance a t^te-a-tete was accomplished. 
 Bat not to dwell on the common-place de- 
 clarations of Lord Sedley's unalterable pas- 
 sions, or the many inducements he held 
 out — 'of rank, wealth, and power, over his 
 idolizing heart, or how she endeavoured to 
 restrain the contempt and impatience of 
 her feelings, when she decisively refused 
 the honours and advantages he intended 
 her. Suffice it to say, that no power can 
 describe the astonishment of Lord Sedley, 
 that his splendid offers were slighted by a 
 girl dependant on her mother, and unknown 
 in the fashionable world ! — Desperately in 
 1 love with her person, he could not conceal 
 ' his mortification ; but, knowing well Mrs. 
 ' Grosvenor's character, he resolved to de- 
 ; pend on her management tor the accom- 
 plishment of his hopes, and rudely and im- 
 1 passionately seizing Emily's hand, he con- 
 ifessed "she was too young to know her 
 I own mind ; that the romance of hep present 
 determination added the charm of simplici- 
 ty to her character ; that she was too emi- 
 nently beautiful to tread the common path 
 of life ; but when she became the countess 
 of Sedley, every distinction an admiring 
 world could bestow, would exclusively ir- 
 Tadiate her steps."- Then, gazing stedfastly 
 iii her countenance, he added — 
 
34 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 " With a face so fair, 
 
 *' Fairer far than painting can expreSs ;" 
 
 And he was proceed in 2; in this very ridicu- 
 lous stile, when Emily, provoked at the 
 freedom of his manner, and at the general 
 tenor of his language, interrupted him, by 
 laconically adding — 
 
 *' Or youthful poets fancy 
 " When they love." 
 
 And the peculiar emphasis she laid on the 
 word youthful, disconcerted, as she wished 
 it should, her venerable admirer; and they 
 parted, on her side, with real disgust, and 
 on his, with a determination not to relin- 
 quish his suit ; because she was too young 
 to know her own mind. Of libertine prin- 
 ciples, in every sense of the word; Lord 
 Sedley had never before resolved to marry, 
 and this repulse to his vanity was both 
 surprising and unexpected. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor's rage and indignation 
 ■v*'ere without bounds : Emily was confined 
 to her own apartment, denied the society 
 of her best beloved friends, and only sup- 
 ported by that hope, "springing eternally 
 in the human mind ;" and which, when 
 founded on the sacred principles of religion, 
 will mitigate the bitterness of every trial 
 or unpleasant situation in life. 
 
 Sir George Sinclair was the primary cause 
 of her present distress. Her beauty had 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 3» 
 
 ; awakened his serious admiration, and great 
 was the struggle he experienced, when 
 
 i feigning a passion for the mother, which 
 his heart felt was only due to her fascina- 
 
 iting daughter. He was a professed gam- 
 
 ihlw, and practised in every species of de- 
 pravity ; but hypocrisy had yet, in some 
 measure, concealed his vices ; he was well; 
 received in society, and courted by an in- 
 discriminating world. 
 
 Could he flatter himself that Emily re- 
 
 Igarded him with partiality, the rapture of 
 the thought would have set aside all pru- 
 dential motives, and Mrs. Grosvenor's re- 
 
 iproaches would have been alike disregar- 
 ded ; but even his vanity could not encour- 
 age such an illusion. Emily treated him 
 as her heart dictated before and after his 
 declaration to her mother. He had some 
 acquaintance with Edward Fitsmorton ; he 
 
 "well knew that pity was oftentimes allied 
 
 1 to love ; and, from various circumstances, 
 he began to fear that friendship commenc- 
 
 I ed in sympathy and sorrow might end in 
 love and joy. To see Emily the wife of 
 Edward Fitsmorton, was an insupportable 
 idea ; but to see her the wife of age and in- 
 firmity, might second his nefarious views ; 
 and could he avoid the marriage with her 
 mother, lead her, on easy but dishonoura- 
 ble terms, to his arms. He ever pretended 
 
34 THE FATAL CABINET. | 
 
 to reprobate the cruelty of Mrs. Grosvenor's 
 proceedings, and took every opportunity of 
 ingratiating himself with the unsuspecting 
 Emily ; for Mrs. Grosvenor, deceived by 
 his semblance of sincerity, permitted him 
 free access to Emily's dressing-room, ftiat 
 he might use every argument and persua- 
 sion to induce her cheerfully to comply 
 with the proposals of Lord Sedley. In the 
 most conciliating language, with a manner 
 tender and respectful, he often availed him- 
 selfof this permission; and he daily improv- 
 ed in Emily's good opinion, though she 
 could never be reconciled to the idea of his 
 marriage with her mother, on account of 
 the great disparity of their years, and the 
 incongeniality of sentiment she had fearful- 
 ly observed between them. Her opinions 
 and sentiments were those of nature and of 
 reason, and she drew the standard of others 
 actions and feelings by the simple rectitude 
 of her own. 
 
 Miss Fitsmorton began to feel uneasy at 
 Emily's continued absence, and fearing ill- 
 ness was the cause, she gained permission 
 of her mother to make her enquiries in per- 
 son, for the general dissipation of Mrs. Gros- 
 venor's house had hitherto precluded inti- 
 macy there. Emily was denied to her 
 friend, who thfn requested to see Mrs. 
 Grosvenor or Miss Sandford. The latter 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 3S 
 
 joon attended her, and invented a most 
 plausible story of Emily's undutiful con- 
 Juct, of the great kindness and considera- 
 tion of Mrs. Grosvenor, in selecting so ad- 
 vantageous a match for her daughter ; and 
 ?nded the prolix history, by descanting on 
 Emily's ingratitude m refusing to become 
 I countess. 
 
 Mary could hardly suppress a smile at 
 ;he weakness and simplicity of this ac- 
 count ; and, after pleading m vain for an in- 
 iervievi^ with her friend, was obliged to 
 eave the house without any further satis- 
 action. She too well knew Emily's prin- 
 ciples and resolution, to fear that she would 
 iver consent to become LordSedley's wife ; 
 md often had he been held up in ridicule 
 )y these blooming associates, for the unbe- 
 loming levity of his manners, and for his 
 'ain pretensions to youth and vivacity. 
 Often had Mary breathed an imperfect 
 vish, that her brother might at some future 
 leriod think of Emily in a tenderer point 
 )f view, though hitherto she couid not flat- 
 er herself that his attentions proceeded 
 rom aught but virtuous friendship; and 
 ilmily, she well knew, could not be lightly 
 von or satisfied, but with an undivided 
 leart. 
 
 When she returned home, the family 
 tarty was assembled in the drawing-room, 
 
26 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 and Mary declared she had wonderful news 
 to impart. Emily, our dear Emily, is go- 
 ing to be married. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton looked incredulous ; 
 Mr. Fitsmorton hoped it was a good match; 
 and Edward, hastily puttuig down his lit- 
 tle girl from his arms, opened the window 
 as if in fear of suffocation, at the same time 
 expressing his wishes for her happiness. 
 Mary then mentioned Sir George Sinclair 
 as the favoured man. — Edward bit his lip, 
 and the old gentleman wished to know 
 how the transfer was so easily made from 
 the mother to the daughter ? That it was 
 a very bad match for Emily, and that he 
 acted like a madman, to marry a girl with- 
 out a shilling of her own, for we all know 
 what dependance may be placed upon her 
 mother's fortune. 
 
 Dinner at this moment was announced, 
 and the unfortunate event of a fine cod's 
 head being overboiled, so totally disarrang- 
 ed the good humour of the hour, ihat Ma- 
 ry did not pursue the subject during the 
 repeated con)))laints of her father, who de- 
 clared he would in future dine at a tavern; 
 he would discharge the cook ; he would 
 recommend every mistress of a family to 
 understand the theory of cooking. In short, 
 he made every one so completely uncom- 
 fortable, that the moment deeency would 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 37 
 
 permit, Edward took up his hat and left 
 the house, u remedy he always adopted in 
 any family altercation. Mary, wishing to 
 change her father's ideas, seriously describ- 
 ed Emily's situation. Mrs. Fitsmorton ex- 
 pressed her sorrow and pity. 
 
 " Sorrow and pity, forsooth," (interrup- 
 ted her husband) " for what? for the pros- 
 pect of being- splendidly settled for life ? 
 The girl is a simpleton, and does not know 
 her own interest. Unconditional obedi- 
 ence is what every parent has a right to 
 expect. I should like to see a child of 
 mine refuse such an offer." 
 
 Mary encountered her father's eye, and 
 the blush that suffused her countenance 
 did not escape her Another's observation. 
 
 When Edward was assured of Mary's 
 intended mistake of the man to whom Emi- 
 ly was to be united, a satisfaction, almost 
 surprising to himself, stole over his mind ; 
 for he was convinced she would not marry 
 a man old enough to be her grandfather ; 
 but of Sir George Sinclair, he would have 
 had less doubt ; handsome and insinuating, 
 her Vancy might have been enslaved with- 
 out the concurrence of her deliberate judg- 
 niiMit ; and Sir George Sinclair was assur- 
 edly not the man he v/ould have chosen 
 for an husband, either for her or for his 
 sister. Having thus quietly settled this 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
SB THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 point to his own saiisfaction, he recurred 
 to past scenes of happiness, and mourned 
 their eternal loss. Nature had blessed him 
 with a heart susceptible of every good im- 
 pression, and the early instructions of his 
 mother had cultivated with great success 
 every opening virtue ; and the moral pre- 
 cepts which were inculcated as he advanc- 
 ed in years, stamped on his mind an in- 
 delible abhorrence- of the deliberate pur- 
 isuits of vice and loWy. Had his father 
 been a man whom he could have consider- 
 ed as a friend and companion, even the 
 errors of juvenile indiscretion had, in all 
 probability, been avoided ; but Edward 
 -early distinguished that his father's pres- 
 •ence was generally an awful restraint in 
 the domestic or convivial circle. At the 
 time he first saw Miss Dalrymple, he had 
 resolved to break through the unnecessary 
 shackles of parental authority ; and he was 
 just yielding to the fiiscinating prospects 
 which the first emancipation from restraint 
 holds forth, when beauty, love, and merit, 
 prevented the unthinking career, in the be- 
 witching form of Mary Dalrymple ! Both 
 parents had different views for their chil- 
 dren, but the young people coming to an 
 explanation of their sentiments, every thing 
 was settled to the tolerable satisfaction of 
 all parties. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. ' if} 
 
 Miss Daliymple was intended for a ward 
 of her father's, who went to India six 
 months after her marriage, happy in the 
 assured friendship and esteem of JNIr. and 
 Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton. 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton wished to guide the at- 
 t'tenlion of his son to a young and lively 
 heiress; and he did not despair but that 
 time and management would now unite 
 them ; for the affluent fortune Miss Travers 
 possessed, would prove a most convenient 
 auxiliary to the finances of the family, but 
 of course this idea was only encouraged by 
 Edward Fitsmorton's father. 
 
 The domestic parties in Mrs. Fitsmor- 
 ton's drawing-room, had lately proved very 
 dull and uninteresting to her son. Emily's 
 artless attentions, her'endeavours to amuse 
 him, her gratification when successful ; and 
 her silent, but expressive regret, when the 
 depression of his spirits would not yield to 
 her exertions, being suddenly withdrawn, 
 he soon sought, in the gayer scenes of dis- 
 sipation, relief from his various and con- 
 tending feelings. 
 
 Emily was still a prisoner in her mother's 
 house. Miss Sandford and Sir George Sin- 
 clair were her only visitants. The former 
 was the echo of her mother's commands, 
 and the latter was daily gaining hec confi- 
 dence, and rising in her good opinion. — 
 
49- THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Sometimes he would condole with her oq 
 the severity of Mrs. Grosvenor's conduct, 
 and endeavour to alleviate the dulness of 
 her situation by every attention and means 
 in his power ; and if at any time thrown off 
 his guard by her fascinating expressions of 
 gratitude, he would immediately assume an 
 almost parental tenderness of manner ; and 
 solemnly aver, that the moment Mrs. Gros- 
 venor gave him a title to protect her, he 
 would exert it to the utmost of his power; 
 artfully insinuating, that the day was near- 
 ly fixed for the long desired event. 
 
 To Mrs. Grosvenor he expressed little 
 doubt but that time would gain Emily's free 
 consent to the match ; and Mrs. Grosvenor, 
 in her turn, deceived Lord Sedley with the 
 same assurance; promising that maternal 
 authority should interpose if milder meth- 
 ods proved unsuccessful. Lord Sedley, 
 whose love sprang only from the source of 
 a libertine inclination, was little solicitous 
 how he obtained the hand of Emily, if 
 eventually secure of it, her personal attrac- 
 tions would render him the envy of all ; and 
 he imagined her youth and inexperience 
 would timidly yield to the caprices of his 
 temper. 
 
 Some recent circumstances in the annals 
 of gal]"ntry, induced him to resolve to tra- 
 vel immeiliately after their marriage; and 
 
this idea, joined to his convenient declara- 
 tion, that he would take Emily without a 
 fortune, were the grand and interesting rea- 
 sons tor Mrs. Grosvenor's perseverance in 
 his favour. 
 
 Sir George Sinclair continued to improve 
 the opportunities of increasing Emily's es- 
 teem, nor could he have more conciliated 
 her favour, than in contriving to give her 
 the following letter from Miss Fitsmorton : 
 
 To Miss Grosvenor. 
 
 *' I will no longer debar myself the satis- 
 faction of writing a few lines to my dearest 
 Emily. Sir George Sinclair has undertaken 
 to deliver this to you ; that he proves so 
 kind and so considerate a friend, affords me 
 unspeakable satisfaction on your account. 
 
 " 1 need not enforce to you the resolu- 
 tion never to become Lord Sedley's wife ; 
 for I know your just contempt of rank and 
 wealth, when put in competition with Me, 
 affections of the heart. — Oh, Emily ! how 
 much is contained in these words ! 
 
 " 1 find every thing is settled between 
 your mother and Sir George Sinclair ; this 
 is a subject I never can discuss with pa- 
 tience. We all miss you more than 1 can 
 express. Edward seems quite to have de- 
 serted us. Emily, it was indeed a cruel 
 4* 
 
42 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 misfortune which deprived him of the com- 
 forts of domestic life. With the most ho- 
 nourable tendency to all that is good, he 
 may yet be led into the paths of error, the 
 claims of husband and of father, were such 
 sacred barriers, that he would ever avoid 
 the delusions of vice and folly. 
 
 *' The angel we have lost ! had you known 
 her ! had you loved her as 1 did ! 
 
 *' Peculiar circumstances contributed so 
 to unite our hearts in friendship, that death 
 only can erase the sacred remembrance ! 
 These are strong expressions ; yet they but 
 faintly trace what passes in my bosom J 
 
 " My dear mother, 1 know, often won- 
 ders at the uncommon depression of spirits 
 I labour under. My friend, you know not 
 half her excellencies ! 
 
 *' But I am talking of myself, when you 
 are alone the subject of my. writing. Oh^ 
 that you could fly to our protection ! that 
 my mother's arms could shelter 3^ou ! that 
 her counsels could instruct you how to 
 act ! — But were it on your part practicable 
 to come to us, my father is, 1 fear, so pre- 
 judiced a judge of the authority of a parent, 
 and «he obedience of a child, that I dare 
 not urge you to think of a plan, which 
 might prove so inimical to the peace of 
 many. 
 
 "Our sweet little pet, Mary, often in- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 4» 
 
 quires for you. Dearchild^ what a loss she 
 has sustained, in being deprived of her mo- 
 ther ! Should Edward ever marry again, 
 may I he enal)led to love, as 1 wish to do, 
 the second mother of chis interesting dar- 
 ling ! 
 
 " 1 have just had a charming letter from 
 our dear governess ; her brother is dead, and 
 has left her a very handsome fortune ; and, 
 after remaining at Ipswich, where she now 
 is, for a year or two, will settle nearer town : 
 her letter is long and affectionate. She will 
 write to you soon, and speaks of you with 
 great interest and kindnesss. 
 
 " Heaven bless you, dear Emily; be re- 
 solute. I have more reasons than I dare 
 acknowledge for wishing you were not de- 
 pendant upon your mother. But there is 
 a Being, who is a Father to the tarherless ; 
 and to his never-failing protection the pray- 
 er of friendship consigns you. Believe me, 
 always, " Your affectionate 
 
 " Mary Fitsmorton." 
 
 Emily pondered on the contents of this 
 letter ; she knew that her mother was not a 
 favourite with her friend, but Mary would 
 not speak so forcibly without some pecu- 
 liar meaning. Alas ! she knew not how 
 busily the tongue of fame had whispered 
 the secrets of her mother's conduct ! and 
 
44 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 that gaming wa^ undermining her once af- 
 fluent fortune ! 
 
 Lord Sediey, wholly depending on Mrs. 
 Grosvenor^s management, sent Emily the 
 most costly presents ; declaring that he 
 would not again intrude upon her presence 
 till she met him at the altar ; and every 
 thing appeared drawing to a conclusion. 
 Miss Sandl'ord continually assuring Emily 
 that the most splendid preparations were 
 making for her*s and for her mother's wed- 
 ding. 
 
 " Cannot you," (Emily despairingly ask- 
 ed Miss Sandford) *' cannot you assist me 
 in any plan to avoid this hated marriage ?" 
 
 " Dear me, no ; how can you suppose I 
 would act so contrary to your good mo- 
 ther's wishes ? 1 wish you would hear rea- 
 son.' An offer from a man of quality does 
 not occur every day. See these elegant 
 presents, and judge from them of the mu- 
 nificence of his spirit. Only think, how 
 lovely you will appear in your bridal robes; 
 and then to take precedence of your mo- 
 ther, to be called my Lady^ at every word. 
 Wbat if my Lord is a few years older than 
 yourself, and looks rather unhealthy, every 
 thing happens for the best ; and you may 
 one day be left wholly independent of the 
 world." 
 
 Emily sat the image of despair, vacantly 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 45 
 
 gazing at her loquacious cousin, who al- 
 most supposed, by the silence of her com- 
 panion, that her rhetoric had prevailed. 
 She immediately communicated her ill-for- 
 med hopes to Mrs. Grosvenor, who soon 
 after sought a conference with Emily, and 
 found how much Maria had heen deceived 
 in her conclusion. 
 
 Emily, at first, pleaded for mercy ; en- 
 treated to be sent away any where, to be 
 for ever buried in solitude, rather than 
 marry Lord Sedley : but, finding all her 
 arguments were either treated with ridicule 
 or severity, she resolutely declared no pow- 
 er on earth should force her to comply. 
 
 " You play the heorine most admirably,", 
 returned her mother, " but this extraordi- 
 nary spirit of yours may be subdued. In 
 one week more you will be Lord Sedley^s 
 wife, nor shall you leave this house but 
 under his protection." Mrs. Grosvenor 
 then abruptly left the room, and Emily 
 resolved to consult Sir George Sinclair on 
 some means of escape from the misery that 
 awaited her. 
 
 Escape to whom ? What plan could she 
 adopt ? She dared not involve Miss Fits- 
 raorton in the attempt. The illiberal re- 
 flections her mother had passed, precluded 
 the possibility of her claiming Mrs. Fits- 
 morton's protection. Would it not be 
 
46 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 throwing herself in the way of Edward, and 
 unnecessarily exciting his compassion ? 
 She avowed to her own heart that the sis- 
 terly affection she felt for him, w^ould ever 
 make the restoration of his happiness con- 
 ducive to her own. She honoured him 
 for the respect and enthusiastic attachment 
 he had evinced for the memory of his wife, 
 and with somewhat of the romantic senti- 
 ments of youth, she deemed it impossible, 
 or, at least improbable, that he could ever 
 love again : hence the innocent familiarity 
 with which she had ever treated him ; and 
 the efforts she exerted to soothe and amuse 
 his mind, were the pure dictates of her na- 
 tive benevolence. 
 
 She thou2:ht of Mrs. Mason. Could she 
 procure her address at Ipswich, she would 
 fly to her protection. She would consult 
 Sir George Sinclair on the subject ; and, 
 with something like a palliation of her per- 
 plexities, she sought on her pillow the re- 
 pose of innocence. 
 
 Far different were the waking or the 
 sleeping reveries of Mrs. Grosvenor. She 
 dreaded an investigation of her conduct by 
 the man she knew she was so grossly de- 
 ceiving ; and, whilst the fictitious smiles of 
 animation illumined her countenance, all 
 was an.irchy and confusion in her bosom. 
 
 A few evenings before the dreaded mar- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 47 
 
 riage day, Emily and her mother had, as 
 usual, parted in distress and anger ; and, 
 Emily seeing a paper on the carpet, near 
 the (hair Mrs Grosvenor had been sitting 
 on, she carelessly took it up, imagining it 
 might be a bill, or a letter upon business ; 
 but as she flung it upon the table, the words 
 adoration^ loue, and surprise, caught her at- 
 tention ; and, without waiting a moment 
 for reflection, she hastily unfolded the pa- 
 per, and read a confirmation of every de- 
 pravity that woman could be guilty of. 
 The letter was addressed to Mrs. Grosve- 
 nor, from a foreigner of distinction, who 
 was just arrived in England. He reproach- 
 ed her with her faithless conduct, avowed 
 his continued love and adoration ; and con- 
 cluded with reverting to scenes which had 
 passed even before the death of Mr. Gros- 
 venor, and all in such impassionate lan- 
 guage, and in a stile so new to the innocent 
 and agitated Emily, that this appeared to 
 be the bitterest trial she ever could experi- 
 ence. 
 
 Absorbed in a chaos of reflections, she 
 ^vas vainly endeavouring to collect her ideas 
 for some plan of immediate action, when 
 Sir George Sinclair, claiming, as usual, the 
 privilege of visiting her on ihe old argu- 
 ment of persuasion from her mother, knock- 
 ed for admittance at the door of her apart- 
 ment. 
 
48 THE FATAL CASmET. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor having in the morning 
 answered the above-mentioned letter; and, 
 as she fancied, secured it in her writing- 
 table, thought no more of so fatal an evi- 
 dence of her depravity. She had just dis- 
 missed Lord Sediey, with fresh assurances 
 that a few days would complete his liappi- 
 ness, and was preparing lor an interview 
 with her former lover, in order to lull him 
 into a security of her faith, when Sir George 
 Sinclair unweicomely made his appearance. 
 She, of course, pleaded some engagement 
 of business, not expecting the happiness of 
 seeing him that evening, but said Maria 
 would make tea for him in Emily's dressing- 
 room ; ai]d, with the semblance of real re- 
 gard, she lamented the necessity of leaving 
 him for an hour or two. Without inquir- 
 ing for Miss Sandford, he, as before-men- 
 tioned, sought the disconsolate Emily. 
 
 The sight of a man so wronged, so de- 
 ceived, who was soon to become the hus- 
 band of her mother, brought tears to her 
 relief; but the death-like paleness of her 
 countenance, and the cold shivering of her 
 frame, alarmed him with real apprehension 
 that indisposition was the cause. 
 
 " Good God ! mv dear girl, you are ill, 
 very ill," (was his first anxious exclama- 
 tion) and taking her cold hand in both his 
 own, gave it a tenderer pressure than he 
 usually ventured to do. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 49 
 
 ^' Is it in the power of friendship, my 
 dear Emily, to adopt any plan for your re- 
 lief? 1 have procured Mrs. Mason's address, 
 and could you venture the journey in a 
 stage, 1 am almost tempted to advise you 
 to go to her immediately." 
 
 " I wish I knew what I ought to do." 
 
 " I have in vain endeavoured to persuade 
 your mother to let our marriage take place 
 first, because I should then be entitled to 
 protect you ; but she will see you the 
 countess of Sedley before we are united." 
 
 Emily could only articulate — • 
 
 " My poor mother !" 
 
 Sir George was surprised at the peculi- 
 arity of her manner; he endeavoured to 
 soothe her mind, and again mentioned his 
 approaching^ nuptials. 
 
 '• Dear Sir George," (she emphatically 
 replied) " ought you to marry my mother ?" 
 
 Her incoherence and eneroy startled him, 
 but soon the depravity of his own mind 
 drew but one conclusion from her manner. 
 Vanity led him to suppose that the com- 
 parison which she made between Lord Sed- 
 ley and himself, thus agitated her feelmgs. 
 He regarded her in silence, undecided hov/ 
 to act ; how to assure her that her partiali- 
 ty w^as understood and fully appreciated, 
 momentarily expecting a fuller explanation 
 of her sentiments. 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
53 THE FATAL CABINET, 
 
 Far different were Emily^s meditations ; 
 to expose her mother to Sir George Sinclair, 
 was a dreadful thought — to let him marry 
 her, was equally repulsive to her feelings. 
 She resolved to go immediately to Mrs. 
 Mason, and request her advice in this dis- 
 tressing business. Assuming therefore a 
 resolute dignity of manner, she communi- 
 cated to Sir George Sinclair her intentions. 
 He listened with well dissembled respect, 
 and readily took the management of her 
 escape upon himself. 
 
 " How cheerfully,"' (he continued) 
 " would I be your protector in the jour- 
 jiey ! but this I am persuaded your mother 
 would never pardon. Be it, however, my 
 care to ensure to you her future favour; 
 and when she is my wife, you shall confess 
 that my authorative or persuasive powers 
 are unlimited. Chear up, dearest Emily, 
 and trust me ever as your guardian and 
 your friend." 
 
 " Will you give me your sacred promise 
 to defer your marriage with my mother 
 one fortnight longer ?" 
 
 Again was the gentleman puzzled beyond 
 all comprehension ; however, he felt little 
 difficulty in making her the most solemn 
 assurances to defer the ceremony much 
 longer if she wished it. Often was he 
 tempted to clasp her to his bosom, to con- 
 
THE FATAL CABINETv 51 
 
 fess that she only was the object of his love 
 and admiration ; that she only should guide 
 his future destiny." 
 
 But, suppressing the language of extacy, 
 he urged the necessity of quickly ascertain- 
 ing some plan for her escape, as Miss Sand- 
 ford was every moment expected in the 
 room. 
 
 At length it was concluded, that Sir 
 George Sinclair, by engaging Mrs. Grosve- 
 nor at cards till a very late hour, on the fol- 
 lowing evening, or, more strictly speaking, 
 till early in the morning, he would so settle 
 his plans with a confidential servant, (who 
 already considered him as the future mas- 
 ter of the house) that he should have little 
 difficulty in conveying Emily in safety to 
 the Ipswich coach ; that he himself would 
 secure a place, and considerately hoped to 
 find, on their arrival at the inn, some re- 
 spectable person to whose care he might re- 
 commend her. That he advised her to 
 write a few lines to Mrs. Mason, apprising 
 her of the visitor she might expect, and he 
 would forward the letter bv the first coach 
 in the morning. 
 
 Emily wrote a! short letter to Mrs. Ma- 
 son, and, after having given it to Sir George 
 Sinclair, he took leave for the evening, ex- 
 ulting at the happy chance which had en- 
 couraged such hopes of the enchanting 
 Emily's partiality for him. 
 
53" THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 His future plans were yet almost un- 
 known to himself. The more he reflected 
 on her extraordinarj'^ emotion, when she 
 •wished him to defer his marriage with Mrs. 
 Grosvenor, the more he was convinced the 
 strugfjle between love and duty occasioned 
 it, and his repugnance to marry her mother 
 became every hour more unconquerable. 
 
 When Maria entered the room, she was 
 surprised to find Emily alone. She had 
 impatiently dispatched some domestic em- 
 ployment, in order to partake of the pas- 
 sing compliments and gay conversation of 
 Sir George Sinclair ; and fancying that Emi- 
 ly was uncommonly spiritless and dull, 
 she soon made an excuse to leave her to 
 her own meditations ; first assuring her of 
 the liberality of Lord Sedley, who, she said, 
 had made the most costly presents both to 
 Mrs. Grosvenor and to herself. She advis- 
 ed her to keep up her spirits, and to study 
 her good looks a little, observing, that she 
 appeared more fit tor a funeral than a 
 wedding. 
 
 Emily felt relieved by a few hours of soli- 
 tude, and when she retired to rest, for the 
 first time in her life, vainly courted sleep^s 
 refreshing power. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 53 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 On the following morning Emily was 
 much distressed to see her mother enter the 
 dressing-room, accompanied by the elegant 
 paraphernalia, preparatory for the expected 
 occasion. A faintness overpowered her 
 senses, and for some time she could hardly 
 comprehend the meaning of the scene be- 
 fore her. 
 
 " It is very natural, Emily, that you 
 should feel acutelv the s^reat chansfe of sit- 
 uation that awaits you. All your attire is 
 answerable to these beautiful dresses, and 
 your jewels are most superb ;" (opening a 
 shagreen case which contained a diamond 
 necklace.) 
 
 Emily involuntarily pushed them from 
 her; and, shivering with convulsive agony, 
 as she thought of her mother's conduct, 
 falteringly exclaimed — 
 
 " Is it possible ?" 
 
 " These tragedy airs, Miss Grosvenor, 
 may suit the heroine of a novel ; but do you 
 pray act like a reasonable being." 
 
 Emily burst into tears. * 
 
 *' Come, come, child, exert a little more 
 resolution. Lord Sedley awaits your con- 
 sent to see you, previously to the ceremo- 
 ny. But, be this as it may, on the day af- 
 5* 
 
51 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ter to-morrow you are to become his wife ; 
 a special licence is procured, and you will 
 leave England on a tour of pleasure the fol- 
 lowing morning. 
 
 Emily gasped for breath, but with as 
 much serenity as she could command, she 
 said — 
 
 " I will endeavour to exert myself, if 
 you, Madam, will promise me not to admit 
 Lord Sedley to my presence, till J am obli- 
 ged to meet him in the drawing-room." 
 
 " Most despotic Princess ! this is a 
 strange caprice of temper, but you shall be 
 indulged. I will endeavour to persuade 
 Lord Sedley to accede to your ridiculous 
 terms. But, mark me well, if you dare to 
 trifle with us, or presume on this my fool- 
 ish indulgence, by any future disobedience, 
 may beggary and wretchedness be your 
 portion for ever \" 
 
 Emily trembled, and endeavoured to say 
 something conciliating, but the words died, 
 upon her lips, and she saw her mother de- 
 part, without the power or the wish to de- 
 tain her. At length, being left alone, she 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " And is this the being to whom I owe 
 my existence? Whatever be my future 
 fate, would that I could save her from in- 
 famy and wretchedness ! rA mother's name 
 coupled with such epithets as these ! — 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 53* 
 
 '* Poor Sir George, he deserves a better 
 fate ! Bur, can it iie I My father! my de- 
 ceived, confidnig father ! Shall I ever for- 
 get tlie last expression of his countenance, 
 which spoke the blessings his tongue deni- 
 ed to utter!" 
 
 Too much softened by these heart-rend- 
 ing emotions, she was obliged to exert her 
 utmost resolution to go through the pain- 
 ful task which awaited her. 
 
 Maria told her at a late hour in the eve- 
 ning, that Sir George and her mother were 
 playing at piquet ; that he was considerably 
 the winner, but kept Mrs. Grosvenor in 
 perfect good humour, by constantly revert- 
 ing to the idea, " that as one interest would 
 soon guide them, pecuniary considerations 
 were of little moment," Maria, adding, 
 " that the playful fooleries of lovers being 
 always uninteresting to by-standers, she 
 had left them for the evening, as they had 
 just sent away the sandwiches, and were 
 again engaged in the game with great spir- 
 it. So good-night, Emily," she continued, 
 " though not long must I presume to call 
 you so ; therefore, by way of practice, good- 
 night, my dear elected countess of Sedley." 
 
 It was not till morning that Sir George 
 Sinclair pretended to take leave of his in- 
 tended bride : fortune had been to him most 
 propitious, and he left her with a larger sum 
 
56 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 of money in his }3ossession than he had 
 dared to hope would fail to his lot, 
 
 Emily endeavoured to gain a little re- 
 pose, so needful to strengthen her agitated 
 frame, and to compose her drooping spir- 
 its ; but, finding the etfort useless, she sat 
 in fearful expectation, awaiting the little 
 bustle of Sir George Sinclair's departure. 
 
 She was not quite satisfied with the plan 
 she had adopted, but she hoj)ed the exi- 
 gency of the case would excuse her leaving 
 her mother's house in so clandestine a man- 
 ner ; and when once sheltered by Mrs. Ma- 
 son's protection, she could better resolve 
 how to act to save both Sir George and her 
 mother from future misery and repentance : 
 and she began to reason herself into the be- 
 lief that the step she was about to take, 
 was the only means to free herself from the 
 expected detested marriage. 
 
 At the appointed hour she heard the sig- 
 nal at her dressing-room door, and she met 
 Sir George with tolerable composure. The 
 servant had procured them a hackney- 
 coach ; the morning was dark and gloomy; 
 numberless were the protestations of her 
 companion, that her interest and her hap- 
 piness should ever be the first object of his 
 life ; but Emily, absorbed in her own re- 
 flections, little heeded the hurried and agi- 
 tated manner in which he addressed her. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 57 
 
 She again received his willing promise, that 
 more than a fortnight should elapse before 
 he married her mother, and on their arrival 
 at the stage door, she gave him her hand in 
 token of gratitude for all his kind attentions. 
 
 Nothing particular occurred during the 
 journey. A very thick fog excited the 
 fears and apprehensi(Mis of the female pas- 
 sengers, but Emily, wishing to shun obser- 
 vation, sat silently and abstractedly in one 
 corner of the vehicle, and preferred the re- 
 freshment of a biscuit to partaking of the 
 hurried repast prepared for the passengers. 
 Indeed, this had been Sir George Sinclair's 
 earnest recommendation ; and though it 
 subjected her to the facetious remarks or 
 the ill-will of her hungry companions, her 
 thoughts were too much occupied to heed 
 their general animadversions. 
 
 " Welcome to Harwich, good folks," at 
 length aroused her attention. 
 
 " To Harwich !" Emily said, " I believe 
 you mean Ipswich, Madam," (addressing a 
 loquacious vulgar-looking woman.) 
 
 " Indeed, Miss, I 'mean what I says," 
 she answered, " but I supposes you are in 
 love, as they say, or you mought have ea- 
 sily seen this was not the Ipswich stage. 
 Had you been sociably inclined, and eat 
 and drank like your neighbours, you would 
 have found out the mistake before now. I 
 
58 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ax pardon, but it is always ill convenient 
 to be above one's company," 
 
 So saying, she alighted from the eoach, 
 and left Emily to follow the rest of the pas- 
 sengers at her leisure. Too truly convinc- 
 ed by the mistress of the inn that she had 
 really arrived at Harwich, and attributing 
 the mistake to every cause but the right, 
 she did not weakly give way to fruitless re- 
 pining, but requested to have a bed-room 
 prepared immediately, and to be conducted 
 to a sittinsr-room where she could not be 
 intruded upon. 
 
 " Fil see what I can do, Miss," the land- 
 lady answered, "but the house is quite, 
 full ;" and Emily heard her say, as she left, 
 her in a little mean parlour, " Very extra- 
 ordinary indeed !" 
 
 Emily's situation was not an enviable 
 one: Weary of conjecture, she recollected 
 how necessary it was to ensure the civility 
 of the house, by ordering supper. Ring- 
 ing, therefore, for the waiter, she desired 
 to have some refreshment as soon as possi- 
 ble. During her uncomfortable repast the 
 tears of disappointment could not be re- 
 strained at this unlucky mistake, — Her 
 dear Mrs. Mason ! what anxiety she would 
 feel on heraccounr! and most surprising it 
 appeared, that Sir George Sinclair's boasted 
 care and attention should have so materi- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. s$ 
 
 ally failed ; in the morning she could better 
 determine what plan to pursue ; and was 
 about to order the presence of" the cham- 
 ber-maid, when a man, apparently a stran- 
 ger, entered the room. Imagining he would 
 instantly apologize for the mistake, she for 
 a moment regarded him in silence ; but see- 
 ing him approach the table, she was ad- 
 vancing towards the bell, when throwing 
 oflf his horseman^s coat and hat, she recog- 
 nized the person of Sir George Sinclair ! 
 The first impulse of her mind was to wel- 
 come him as her protector; but, checked 
 by the exultation of his manner, something 
 like the truth bewildered her imagination. 
 His impassioned gaze, and insulting ex- 
 pressions of everlasting love and gratitude, 
 soon confirmed her well-grounded suspi- 
 cions ; and he even dared to thank her for 
 the preference she had evinced in his fa- 
 vour. 
 
 " Your conduct, Sir," she replied, " is 
 perfectly enigmatical ; but I only now in- 
 sist on your immediate absence." 
 
 " Hear me with candour; let love plead 
 my cause, let love excuse my temerity.^' 
 
 She had nearly reached the bell, when 
 holding her forcibly back, he continued: 
 
 " What but the hope of improving your 
 tender preference of me to Lord Sedley, of 
 devoting my whole life to your service. 
 
60 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 could induce me delicately to understand 
 your flattering wishes to procrastinate my 
 union with your mother ; and to interpret 
 the enchanting agitation ox your spirits, 
 when you made the request in my own fa- 
 vour ?" 
 
 " Hold, Sir," she interrupted, " this is 
 too much. Could I give credit to this de- 
 ceptive idea, the sanity of my understand- 
 ing might indeed be questioned ; that 1 still 
 have a motive for wishing your union with 
 my mother for ever deferred-, is most true : 
 time may develope it, but ali communica- 
 tion with me is now at an end." 
 
 '• Why so hasty, dearest Emily ? I am 
 not alarmed at the mystery of your expres- 
 sions. I had not sacrificed interest to love, 
 without having formed suitable resolu- 
 tions." 
 
 " I am not, Sir, to be intimidated by 
 you ; this house at present is my protec- 
 tion." 
 
 Emily had again nearl-y reached the bell, 
 when Sir George, who was prepared for vio- 
 lence, reproaches, and fits, though awed by 
 the dignified comp()Sure of her mannrr, for- 
 cibly prevented her intention, and said — 
 
 *' We part not so easily, miidam ; you are 
 alone the object of my adoration ; and, as 
 chance pointed out to me this pl-.m lo se- 
 oine you mine for ever, you will not v\on- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 6l 
 
 der if after sacrificing all pecuniary advan- 
 tages for your sake, 1 do not relinquish you 
 but with my life." 
 
 Emily smiled with contempt and impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " Look not so scornful, Emily, but ac- 
 cept a heart which adores you ; return as 
 Lady Sinclair, and put to flight ail malig- 
 nant rumours which are already raised to 
 your disadvantage. 
 
 " Your reputation must be tarnished ; 
 for who will contradict the fatal truth, that 
 you have voluntarily eloped with your mo- 
 therms intended husband ? Facts are stub- 
 born things ; the very servant who attended 
 us in the morning, was a witness to your 
 readiness in leaving your mother's house 
 under my protection, and he provided me 
 the diso'uise of a horseman^s coat, that I 
 might escort you on the outside of the 
 coach. But one method remains to save 
 your yet trembling fame, and let us trust 
 to time and chance for future independ- 
 ence." 
 
 " Nothing, Sir, but your unmanly vio- 
 lence could have made me listen so long to 
 proposals which meet my abhorrence and 
 contempt/' 
 
 '^ Hdve, a care. Miss Grosvenor ; unavail- 
 ing repentance may ensue from this your 
 ill-judged refusal. What resource has 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
63 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 that delicate female mind, who has lost 
 friends, reputation, and all that make life 
 respectable and happy ?" 
 
 " To answer you, or to recriminate, is 
 derogatory to the feelings of ofTendcd deli- 
 cacy/^ 
 
 "And now, my ever lovely Emily is 
 thinking, that the mind can only receive 
 coiKlemnation at its own awful tribunal. 
 But whatever be the sophistry of argument, 
 Oh ! let her not brave the world's dread 
 scorn, but in my arms find shelter and pro- 
 tection." 
 
 The unlicensed freedom of his looks and 
 manner distressed and shocked her, but 
 still her good senre prevented her sinking 
 into despair, or uttering useless and violent 
 reproaches. Some plan of action she felt 
 was immediately necessary ; she knew that 
 at a public inn no danger could be appre- 
 liended, she therefore pleaded not for mer- 
 cy at his hands, nor with tears of w^eakness 
 played the weeping heroine in distress ; 
 but, assuming a composure she could not 
 feel again, commanded Sir George Sinclair 
 to leave the room. 
 
 *' By all that's sacred I will jiot leave 
 you," he replied, " unless you give me your 
 solemn promise to meet here in the morn- 
 ing !" 
 
 '■■'■ The presumption of your request ex- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 63 
 
 cites my contempt ;" and, resolutely break- 
 ing from him, she pulled the bell with vio- 
 lence. 
 
 On the waiter keeping the door open for 
 orders, she saw through a half-closed door 
 on the opposite side of the house, a gentle- 
 man and lady sitting at supper, both ap- 
 parently advanced in years, and as far as 
 she could judge, highly respectable in their 
 appearance. Decision followed the reflec- 
 tion of a moment ; she immediately passed 
 her astonished companion, and surprised 
 the gentleman and lady by her very abrupt 
 entrance into their apartment. 
 
 Without giving them time for unfavour- 
 able conjectures, she implored their pardon 
 and protection ; and, in as brief a manner 
 as possible, related the occasion of her pre- 
 sent distress ; and they, won by the inno- 
 cence of her countenance, and the simpli- 
 city of her manner, encouraged her to con- 
 fide in them. 
 
 Emily thought herself fully justified in 
 disclosing Sir George Sinclair's name, and 
 that of herself and friends ; but no sooner 
 had the name of Sinclair passed her lips, 
 than a death-like paleness overspread the 
 countenance of the lady. Her husband ob- 
 serving it, said — " My dear woman, be 
 composed ; useless retrospections may un- 
 fit us for the duty we are called upon to 
 
64 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 perform/' Then, turning to Emily, he con- 
 tinued, " My dear young lady, Sir George 
 Sinclair is a bad enemy to contend with. 
 A few lines from me to him, will probably 
 ensure his immediate departure." The 
 good man passed his hand across his eyes, 
 as if wishing to suppress the emotion he 
 feltj and wrote as follows : — 
 
 To Sir George Sinclair. 
 
 '' When I consider I am addressing the 
 destroyer of my children, I wonder that I 
 am nerved with sufficient strength to hold 
 with him any intercourse ; but in the cause 
 of innocence how resolute is the mind of 
 man ! The victim of your present pursuit 
 rests safely under my protection. 1 need 
 not warn you to avoid my presence ; har- 
 dened as you are in vice and iniquity, you 
 could not meet the man you have so great- 
 jy injured. 
 
 " Francis Leicester."' 
 
 " This note, my dear young Lady, will 
 free you from farther molestation ;" and 
 havino; oiven it to the waiter to carrv to 
 Sir George Sinclair, all parties began to feel 
 something like composure. Emily ex- 
 plained every particular of her situation, 
 and plans for the following day were deci- 
 ded upon. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. CS- 
 
 Dr. Leicester was a respectable clergy- 
 man, who had just arrived with his Lady 
 at Harwich, that she might pass some time 
 with her brother's family, who lived in its 
 vicinity, but arriving too late to venture 
 farther that evening, they had determined 
 to sleep at the inn, and proceed to her bro- 
 ther's house in the morning. Dr. Leices- 
 ter only intending to stay one day, being 
 obliged to return to town on very particu- 
 lar business ; but, prompted by the exigen- 
 cy of the case, it was resolved that Mrs. 
 Leicester should go to her brother's alone, 
 and Emily be conducted to town by her 
 venerable protector. On the following 
 morning, therefore, they began their jour- 
 ney, when, at the worthy man's desire, 
 Emily repeated every thing which had oc- 
 curred since the time of her leaving school ; 
 and they, at length, agreed that she should 
 go immediately to her friends the Fitsmor- 
 ton's. 
 
 " And always remember," said the good 
 doctor, " that the chance, or whatever we 
 may please to call it, has made us acquaint- 
 ed with one another; it will be the studi- 
 ous wish of Mrs. Leicester and myself, to 
 cultivate a mutual and permanent regard. 
 When you know us, you will know, that 
 though cheerfulness, through the medium 
 of laith and resignation, is encoura2:ed in 
 6 * 
 
d6 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 our minds, we have tasted the bitter cup of 
 affliction and disappointment." 
 
 Emily's looks solicited a iuUer explana- 
 tion : he continued — 
 
 " Your sympathizing countenance shall 
 be my best excuse for dwelling on my own 
 misfortunes, and should a parent^s wrongs, 
 a parent's griefs, touch your heart,vvhilst 
 I appreciate your sensibility, 1 will endea- 
 vour not to tax it too frequently by useless 
 and unavailing complaints. 
 
 " We were blessed with two children, . 
 who gave every promise of future perfec- 
 tion. They were educated under the pa- 
 rental roof, till the proficiency of. my boy 
 in all that youth could learn, obliged me to 
 send him to Oxford, to complete his stu- 
 dies, and to fit him for the sacred duties of 
 the profession he was intended for. My 
 girl, lovely, elegant, and accomplished as a 
 mother's invaluable instruction could make 
 her, was our present comfort and our fu- 
 ture hope. In an evil hour, my son intro- 
 duced Sir George Sinclair as his friend, his 
 patron, and his best beloved companion ; 
 and he soon became a welcome visitor at 
 our cheerful board. My wife, anxious for 
 the future happiness of her girl, began to, 
 fear there was more attention than sinceri- 
 ty in the behaviour of our guest, and we 
 were prudently planning her absence at the 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. df 
 
 t 
 
 periods we had reason to expect him, when 
 an unequivocal declaration of honourable 
 
 ; sentiments in Louisa^s favour, ensured to 
 him an unlimited confidence. He gained 
 her atfections, he even had been urgent for 
 
 ii the necessary preparations for their union, 
 and he left her to mourn in hapless despair 
 his apostacy and deceit. The bloom faded 
 
 <tfrom her cheek, the lustre of her eye was 
 dimmed, and she was fast falling a sacrifice 
 
 1 to the grief which oppressed her, when her 
 brother rashly, but secretly, resolved to 
 reason with the man who had destroyed 
 her peace ; and if he refused to do her jus- 
 
 \\ \tice, to call him to that account which cus- 
 tom has so fatally authorised. 
 
 " This gay deceiver, who had so long 
 abused the sacred rights of hospitality, tri- 
 fled with my poor boy^s appeal to justice 
 and honour ; and even dared to hint, that 
 though an unfortunate dependance on a ca- 
 
 ji pricious uncle was the ostensible obstacle, 
 yet his change of sentiments in some mea- 
 
 J! sure originated in the levity of my Louisa^s 
 
 ;' temper. Had you known her, Miss Gros- 
 venor, how widely would you have dis- 
 
 1 criminated between levity of temper and 
 
 ' the innocent vivacity of hers ! 
 
 " Despicable cowardice ! he would have 
 
 •sheltered himself in the labyrinth of deceit ; 
 
 i and cast the error on one whose only fault 
 
68 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 was loving too well the man she should 
 have despised for ever ! High spirited, warni 
 in the defence of an injured sister, my son 
 indignantly gave him the appellation of liar. 
 A challenge ensued, and Henry fell by the 
 bullet of his antagonist ! We had yet ano- 
 ther afflictive task to go through — Louisa 
 drooped and died ! She had not fortitude to 
 bear up under her own disappointment, th» 
 misfortune of her brother's death, and her 
 parents' sorrow. 
 
 " You can now, my dear young Lady, 
 account for Mrs. Leicester's emotion when 
 Sir George Sinclair's name was mentioned. 
 As a christian I endeavour to forgive him ; 
 but as a father, 1 must ever feel and remem- 
 ber, ' that such things were ;' and that he 
 was the destroyer of my children." 
 
 Emily's sympathy spoke forcibly to his 
 heart, and a conversation then ensuedji 
 wherein the excellency of her understand- ^ 
 ing, and the pertinency of her remarks 
 both pleased and surprised the worthy doc- j 
 tor. She was no less delighted with him 
 whose paternal counsels contributed tc 
 soothe and to prepare her mind for the tri 
 als which yet awaited her. " Oh ! my dea 
 Sir," she at length exclaimed, " what an 
 my perplexities when compared with a mo 
 ther's apostacy from rectitude ! The Go( 
 you encourage me to trust in, will enabl 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 6«» 
 
 me to clear my own character from every 
 undeserved imputation. 1 have friends 
 into whose hearts I shall be again received.; 
 and the consciousness of not having inten- 
 tionally erred, will prove my best support. 
 But, my mother! my poor mother ! where 
 will she find comfort V 
 
 " My dear Miss Grosvenor," he replied, 
 *' I acknowledge you have reason for unea- 
 siness: the frailties of a parent fall doubly 
 severe upon the child ; but be comforted 
 ,with the thought, that you will on every 
 occasion perform your proper duty, and 
 leave to the Disposer of all events the elu- 
 cidation of futurity." 
 
 Emily bowed in silent acquiescence ; and 
 if her mind now and then wandered, in con- 
 jecturing what were Edward Fitsmorton's 
 sentinients on her conduct, it might pro- 
 I ceed from the friendship and esteem she had 
 ever professed for him. 
 
 i 
 
70 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 To attempt to describe Mrs. Grosvenor'a 
 rage, indignation, and disappointment, at 
 Emily's supposed elopement with Sir 
 George Sinclair, were impossible ! Every 
 unfeminine expression which ungoverned 
 passion could suggest, fell from her lips : 
 till exhausted by. her own violence, she was 
 conveyed senseless to her bed ; and when 
 sufficiently recovered to see Lord Sedley, 
 resolutions of revenge on one side, and 
 vows of eternally abandoning Emily to her 
 fate on the other, by giving vent to their 
 feelings, in some measure, subdued their 
 violence. So well did Mrs. Grosvenor play 
 her part, in lamentations for the depravity 
 of an only child ; so pathetically did she 
 exclaim, " My dear, dear Lord, who would 
 be a mother?" that he was duped by her 
 artifices, and for a moment debated whether 
 the mother was sufficiently attractive to 
 compensate for the loss of the daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor^s associates mournfully, 
 condoled with her on her disappointment ; 
 some of them privately declaring, that they 
 thought Sir George Sinclair had made a 
 good exchange ; and though reprobating 
 the conduct of Emily, all thouoht the affair 
 might blow over, if she returned Lady Sin- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 7r 
 
 clair; and that Lord Sedley had better con- 
 sole himself with the Dowager. 
 
 ]\Irs. Grosvenor had not missed the letter 
 in Emily's possession, but her own con- 
 science convinced her she could not long 
 maintain the appearance of respectability 
 in the world. Her fortune was squander- 
 ed, and the depravity of her character only 
 screened by the veil with which deception 
 sometimes favours the votaries of vice and 
 folly; and therefore the finger of scorn h^d 
 only pointed- not permanently marked her, 
 las an object of infamy, 
 i Sir George Sinclair had pleased her fan- 
 •cy, and marriage appeared the most suc- 
 cessful card to ensure her continued rank 
 jin society, and the loss of him, more than 
 the conduct of Emily, filled her bosom 
 with indignant disappointment. Emily she 
 'Idetermined to cast off for ever ; and when 
 she became calm enough for reflection, she 
 idid not think it impossible but that Lord 
 Sedley might, from motives of pique, and 
 passion, offer her his hand. This thought 
 lonce encouraged, every art and blandish- 
 ment, every delic£te attention she so well 
 knew how to affect, flattered his vanity, 
 and soothed his irritated mind. She would 
 hardly permit him to quit her presence; 
 ^also pretending that his consolations were 
 ^ecessar}'^ to her present peace and her fu- 
 
72 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 tiire comfort ; and by artfully fanning the 
 flanne of resentment in his bosom, she ho- 
 ped to turn it lo her own purposes and 
 advantages. 
 
 Sir George Sinclair, on Emily's sudden 
 escape from the room, was tol lowing her 
 with all possible expedition ; but carching 
 a transient view of Dr. Leicester's respect- 
 able figure as the door was closing after 
 her, he instantly retreated. 
 
 Upon questioning the waiter, he was 
 convinced that Emily had found a protec- 
 tor ; and cursing his unfortunate stars, that 
 chance had conducted her to perhaps the 
 only man living he feared to meet, he one 
 moment ordertd horses for his immediate 
 departure, and the next moment swallowed 
 potent libations of brandy, which he had 
 drank as a cordial when he first alighted 
 from the outside of the coach. Dr. Lei- 
 cester's cool and dispassionate note being 
 given to him, all coherence of thought was 
 lost in the chaos and confusion of his mind ; 
 and soon the fury of contending passions 
 gave way to the oblivion of his senses. 
 
 With the returning morning, returned 
 every feeling of rage and disappointment, 
 but affecting a gay hilarity of spirits, long 
 after Emily had left the inn with her new 
 companion, he ordered horses to conveyi 
 him thirty miles across the countrv, to 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 73 
 
 vegetate a few weeks with an uncle, on 
 whom he had hitherto imposed with studi- 
 ed hypocrisy, till the notoriety of this affair 
 had a little subsided. 
 
 Far from intending to relinquish the pur- 
 suit of Emily, her blooming graces, and 
 decorum of conduct, had increased his love 
 and admiration : he solemnly swore he 
 could not live without her, and resolved 
 only to be more wary in his future plans. 
 
 When chance, or concurring circumstan- 
 ces, fatally confirmed Emily's elopement 
 with the intended huvstand of her mother, 
 the tidingjs were soon conveyed to the 
 Fitsmorton family. Various were their 
 comments on this diso;raceful and extraor- 
 dinary step; Mrs. Fitsmorton was wavering 
 and incredulous; Edward, with heightened 
 colour and indignation flashing from his 
 eye, appeared to treat the report with con- 
 temptuous silence, secretly resolving to 
 make every possible enquiry on the sub- 
 ject. Miss Fitsmorton often repeated, 
 " that Emily could not be guilty of such 
 shameful conduct ;" and her father made his 
 appropriate remarks, at the same time, cool- 
 ly asking Mrs. Fitsmorton — " What ex- 
 cuse she could now make for her immacu- 
 late favourite ?" 
 
 When Edward Fitsmorton called at Mrs. 
 Grosvenor's house, the door was opened 
 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
74 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 by the servant who had attended the fugi- 
 tives to the stage, and in reply to the re- 
 quest of speaking with Miss Sandford, he 
 answered, " Sir, the ladies have given par- 
 ticular orders to be denied to all company. 
 My lady is in fits, (the man could hardly 
 prevent a laugh) because Miss Grosvenor 
 has eloped with her handsome husband 
 that was to be.^' 
 
 Edv\^ard staggered against the door, but 
 with as much composure as he could as- 
 sume, he said — 
 
 " 1 fancy there is some mistake in this 
 business." 
 
 *' Mistake ! — No, no, Sir," replied the 
 man, " there is no mistake, Til assure you ; 
 for I saw them with my own eyes get into 
 a hackney-coach, and Miss Grosvenor ap- 
 peared quite composed, only a little pale 
 or so ; and when Sir George put her into 
 the Harwich stage, she shook hands with 
 him quite in good humour; and then I 
 helped him on with a horseman^s coat, that 
 he might 'tend her on the outside of the 
 coach. All this is quite true, I do assure 
 you. Sir ; besides they have been such good 
 friends lately, and I and my fellow-servants 
 have thought it very extraordinary that 
 Miss Grosvenor should so often have ad- 
 mitted Sir George to her dressing-room, 
 when she would not never see Lord Sed- 
 Jey." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 75 
 
 " Damnation !" exclaimed Fitsmorton. 
 
 " No offence, Sir, 1 hope, I dare say by 
 this time Miss Grosvenor is Lady Sinclair, 
 and Sir George is such a generous hearted 
 gentleman, that — •" 
 
 Edward interrupted him, and endeavour- 
 ing to recover his composure, he said, '* He 
 would call on the ladies at some future op- 
 portunity." Oppressed with feelings al- 
 most indefinable to himself, he entered a 
 coffeehouse, and there rumour, with her 
 hundred tongues, was spreading the news 
 of the day. Some of Sir George Sinclair's 
 acquaintance were lounging away a morn- 
 ing hour, and in the course of conversation 
 remarked on the advantage he had gained, 
 in taking the daughter instead of the mo- 
 ther. "True," replied one, "but he will 
 not by the exchange beoverburthened with 
 the needful ; and as beauty soon grows ' fa- 
 miliar to the lover,' he had acted with more 
 discretion if marriage with the young lady 
 were entirely out of the question. We ail 
 know what sort of a school Mrs. Grosve- 
 nor's house must have proved to youth and 
 inexperience." 
 
 Edward had began a letter to his friend 
 and fellow collegian, Alfred Granby ; he 
 crushed the paper into his pocket, and 
 sought refuge in his own house from the 
 agitation which oppressed him ; but par- 
 
76 THE FATAL CABINE-f. 
 
 ticular business requiring he should give 
 attention to the letter, he thus concluded 
 it: — 
 
 " Alfred, the subject I now unwillingly 
 enter upon, has aft'ecfed me most unac- 
 countably, but lives there a human being 
 who can patiently become the dupe of his 
 own deliberate judgment ? if simplicity of 
 manners, united with stability of mind ; if 
 beauty, adorned with all that education 
 could bestow ; if a countenance, which 
 spoke the feelings of an unsophisticated 
 heart, were calculated to deceive! J may 
 stand excused for having been this willing 
 dupe to such apparent perfections. 1 should 
 feel the same was my sister's honour and 
 decorum of conduct in question. 
 
 " Miss Grosvenor has eloped with Sir 
 George Sinclair, her mother's intended hus- 
 band ! she on the eve of marriage with 
 another ! To comment on this dereliction 
 from propriety can now little avail ! Did I 
 not say 1 loved her as a sister ? of what use 
 is it now to declare, that there have been 
 times when the image of Emily Grosvenor 
 has so floated on my imagination, that I 
 have thought it not impossible but that she 
 might hereafter supply to me the angel I 
 have lost, and become the mother and pro- 
 tectress of my child. I am formed for do- 
 mestic habits, but 1 am not insensible to 
 
I 
 
 THE FATAL CABINET. 77 
 
 the influence of unexpected ter}i"ptations» 
 This perhaps is only the weak excuse of 
 erring humanity, and I feel the humiliation 
 of such a confession. 
 
 " 1 now shall never meet with a mind 
 equal to that of my lamented wife's : she 
 tempered the volatility of mine, by the 
 judgment, sense, and mildness of her own. 
 My welfare, my honour, and my fortune, 
 were s.acred deposits in her hands. How 
 inconsistent is the human mind! led from 
 the feelings of the moment to indulge in an 
 eulogium on this departed angel, when I 
 have so forcibly confessed my disappoint- 
 ment at Emily Grosvenor's deception of 
 character. But thus all visionary prospects 
 end ! and the being my fancy had exalted 
 as a counterpart of the lovely mother of 
 my child, sinks on a level with the weak- 
 est, I had almost said, with the most con- 
 temptible of her sex. 
 
 "I have had some serious thoughts of 
 entering into the army. Emily Grosvenor, 
 I confess, has made me ponder on the sub- 
 ject. My father's objections I should cer- 
 tainly ha\'e endeavoured to overcome ; with 
 my mother I might have had a harder trial. 
 Mature reflection shall now determine my , 
 mind. Granby, I must have some end in 
 view, some point to vary the monotony of 
 existence. I cannot lounge in Bond-street 
 
7* THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 all the morning, or ride in the Park to shew 
 my horses, and eternally frequent the 
 haunts of dissipation. To trifle thus with 
 time surely is not consonant with the ener- 
 getic faculties of man ! — Alas ! why has 
 fate deprived me of the blessings of domes- 
 tic happiness ! 
 
 " I am yours, faithfully, 
 *' Edward Fitsmorxon." 
 
 Edward dined at his father's house; his 
 sister was inconsolable, Mrs. Fitsmorton 
 was studiously silent on the painful subject j 
 and her husband took every opportunity to 
 reprobate the folly and indiscretion of Emi- 
 ly's conduct. Edward added not to the 
 aggravation of the moment by the confir- 
 mation of her elopement; but Miss Fits-' 
 morton had been herself to Mrs. Grosve- 
 nor's house, had seen Emily's own maid, 
 and felt that her exculpation was impossi- 
 ble. 
 
 After dinner, Mary involuntarily ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 *' I am sure Emily will write to me." 
 
 " The less intercourse between you the 
 better," replied her father. 
 
 Thus silenced, she sat ruminating on 
 Emily's conduct ; and in mere vacuity of 
 mind, when she had dispatched the duties 
 of the tea-table, she be^an to search the 
 
THE FATAL CABINET, 73 
 
 work-box for employment. An unfinished 
 purse of Emily's netting- caught her atten- 
 tion, it was designed as a [jresent for Ed- 
 ward. She siguiticantly held it up to his 
 view, and fancied that his countenance 
 changed at this testimony of Emily's at- 
 tention ; but he immediately challenged 
 his mother to a game of piquet ; and Mr. 
 Fitsmorton took up a book, apparently en- 
 gaged in its subject. 
 
 All parties were soon interrupted by a 
 loud knock at the door, but having given 
 particular orders to be denied to company 
 that evening, they feared not the intrusion 
 of visitors. 
 
 A light step was heard upon the stairs, 
 the drawing-room door was opened precipi- 
 tately, and Emily Grosvenor stood before 
 them: with the tremulation of inquietude, 
 but with a countenance of conscious inno- 
 cence, she fell upon Mary's bosom, and 
 could only articulate, " Now 1 am again 
 happy.'' Her dark-coloured riding-habit 
 seemed to give new delicacy to the beauty 
 of her compjexion, anxiety had increased 
 the roses on her cheeks ; and experiencing 
 a feeling like the sense of suffocation, she 
 took off her hat, at once displaying the re- 
 dundancy of her auburn hair, and appeared 
 one of the loveliest figures nature ever for- 
 med, Marv's emotions were audible,- but 
 
ffO THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 too incoherent for expression. Mrs. Fits- 
 morton looked at her in painful surprise. 
 
 Edward, hardly trusting to the evidence 
 of his senses, hastily approached her, and 
 only said, 
 
 " Do we, indeed, see Miss Grosvenor 
 returned ?" 
 
 " More probably," cried Mr. Fitsmorton, 
 " at least more to be desired is it, that we 
 should see Ladv Sinclair. To what fortu- 
 nate circumstance are we so soon indebted, 
 Madam, for the honour of a visit ?" gazing* 
 rudely in her agitated countenance. 
 
 Little Mary, who had been playing qui- 
 etly in the room, somewhat relieved Emi- 
 ly^s embarrassment, by running up to her, 
 and expressing every feeling of infantine 
 joy, entreating to be kissed and loved by 
 her own dear Emily, at the same time call- 
 ing her very naughty, for having gone 
 away for so long a time. 
 
 Emily, overcome by fatigue and the va- 
 riety of emotions which at once assailed 
 her, burst into tears, and silence for a few 
 minutes ensued. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton, in the voice of com- 
 passion, bade her " take time to compose 
 her spirits ; that appearances were certain- 
 ly much against her; that she should be 
 glad to have her sudden and unexpected 
 return properly accounted for." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 81 
 
 ' Emily, after having fondly caressed the 
 child, met the scrutinizing eyes of her 
 riends with dignified composure ; and, 
 ;urning towards Mrs. Fitsmorton, she 
 aroudly exclaimed — 
 
 " If there's a God in heaven, I am inno- 
 cent !" 
 
 Her solemn and forcible appeal reached 
 every heart, Mr. Fitsmorton's excepted. 
 He congratulated her on outwitting her 
 .mother's intentions, but feared she would 
 find some difficulty in reconciling her to 
 50 reasonable an exchange. 
 
 Edward, hurt at his father's inhumanity, 
 said : — - 
 
 " Let us recollect. Sir, that the greatest 
 culprit is entitled to justification, and I 
 liave little doubt, but that Miss Grosve- 
 nor-^" 
 
 His voice faltered, he hesitated, he recol- 
 lected the man-servant's evidence of her 
 elopement, and in silence traversed the 
 room, though evidently in much perturba'- 
 tion of mind. 
 
 Emily had recovered her fortitude, and 
 looking at Edward for a moment, as if she 
 would say, do you also condemn me ? she 
 replied : " After the sacred appeal I have 
 dared to m^ke to the Almighty, J trust that 
 a brief but plain statement of facts will 
 convince my once parental friends of my 
 innocence/' 
 
82 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Edward breathed with difficulty ; Mary 
 pressed her hand in silence ; and she then 
 proceeded to give an account of all that had 
 passed, and explained the motives which 
 induced her so seek Mrs. Mason's protec- 
 tion. ' The unvarnished tale of truth/ 
 pressed conviction on the minds of al^j 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton embraced her with ma- 
 ternal affection, whilst Mary, sobbing like 
 a child, could onl}'^ say : 
 
 " How could she be suspected of any 
 unworthy conduct !" Edward, abashed by, 
 the suspicions which had disturbed hi^ 
 mind, imprecated curses on the man whq 
 had attempted to deceive Emily Grosvenor. 
 In short, some time necessarily elapsed be 
 fore she could continue to narrate the more 
 minute parts of her little history, or men- 
 tion the kind consideration of Dr. Leices- 
 ter, who purposely had permitted her t 
 plead her own cause, convinced of its sue 
 cess from the lips of innocence and truth 
 fie had accompanied her in the chaise t' 
 Mr. Fitsmorton's door, promising to b 
 with her in the morning, to introduce him 
 self to her friends, and to talk over plan 
 for her future welfare and happiness. Ani 
 novy, how forcibly, how bitterly did he 
 mother's conduct recur to her mind ! Sh 
 truly guessed that the Fitsmortons wer 
 no strangers to its notoriety; and whe 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. ss 
 
 ^iie retired to re^t, the subject being deli- 
 iately led to by Mary, a conversation ensii- 
 •d, which, in a great measure, prevented 
 bat quiet repose her harassed mind so 
 luch required. 
 
 " Ah ! Mnry,^' she said, " were my mo- 
 her like yours, how happy' had been my 
 ■)t ! You can re^^t with confidence on a 
 lother's bosom, m any distress or perplex- 
 ity. You can never fear her severity, even 
 i*om the confession of any youthful folly." 
 uch an attachment is surely the height 
 'f human friendship ! 
 
 Mary wept bitterJy, which Emily attri- 
 utino: to recent occurrences bavins: over- 
 lowered her weak and dejected spirits, she 
 /ished her friend good-night, and then 
 ought in sleep an oblivion of all her anxie- 
 ies. 
 
S4, THE FATAL CABINET, 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Dr. Leicester's visit in the morning 
 would have iuUy corroboriiteci Lvuiiy^s sim- 
 ple story, had tiiere required any proof of 
 its veracity ; but she was as:ain received to 
 the hearts of her friends, uuu bv so respect- 
 able a protection contradicted the reports 
 which were circulating to hci- disadvantage. 
 Dr. Leicester took leave of her with paren 
 tal regard, and repeated his earnest wishe 
 that their acquaintance, though so hastih 
 commenced, might end in a long continuJ 
 ance of friendship and affection ; nor wouk 
 he' be satisfied till Emily had promised V 
 pay a visit at the rectory, as soon as con 
 venient to herself, after the return of hi 
 wife from Harwich. 
 
 Emily wrote to her mother a full excul 
 pation of any deliberate intention of elop 
 ing with Sir George Sinclair, expressin 
 the most delicate and dutiful wishes to h 
 admittejd to her presence. Mrs. Grosvenc 
 answered the letter in such terms of abus? ■ 
 and with so many protestations of abandon J 
 ing ber for ever, accusing her of the mo.> 
 criminal duplicity of conduct, that Emil 
 sunk, for a time, under the disgrace whic 
 she fancied awailed her, by her mother 
 apostacy from virtue and decorum ; and tc 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. «5 
 
 soon every presage of Mrs. Grosvenor's un- 
 worthiness was fatally accomplished. She 
 saw the approach of the inevitable ruin of 
 fortune and of character; and as she could 
 not, with ev^ery exertion of art^ entrap the 
 wary peer into marriage, she, at length, ac- 
 cepted his protection, as a companion for 
 his continental tour ; stipulated that she 
 might bear his name; and left the country, 
 glorying in the luxuries and comforts, in 
 the splendour and eclat, which the rank 
 and affluence of Lord Sedley would ensure 
 to her. 
 
 Emily now, indeed, required the utmost 
 efforts of fortitude to support her shockt^d 
 and distressed mind ; and what sh^ never 
 before had seriously considered, poverty and 
 dependance were becoming her undeserved 
 portion. 
 
 To Mrs. Fitsmorton she seriously open- 
 ed her heart ; modestly, but resolutely de- 
 claring she vi^ould pursue some respectable 
 occupation to secure to herself the bread of 
 independence. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton applauded tRese lauda- 
 ble resolutions, but with every affectionate 
 argument she endeavoured to persuade her 
 to remain in town some time longer, and 
 then to pay her promised visits i'> Mrs. 
 Mason aud to Dr. Leicester, by such an 
 
 VOL. r. 8 
 
80 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 arrangement, time and consideration would 
 nlore properly determine her future plans. 
 Maria Sandtord added to Emily's dis- 
 tressing feelings, by calling one morning 
 and overvv^ielmmg her with invectives 
 against Mrs. Grosvenor's proceedings : 
 " And now," she continued, " now, what 
 have 1 got for all my patient endurance of 
 her caprices and follies? Not one farthing 
 has she .ever offered me since I have been 
 in the house — Such dissipation and extrav- 
 agance I have been witness to! — In truth, 
 1 might have foretold her ruin ! The goods 
 of the house are seized, and she has cruelly 
 lefr me in a scene of desolation ; and left 
 you, her only child, to misery and want ! 
 Oh ! could I ever have thought that any 
 one of your family, would have thus dis- 
 graced themselves ! — A kept mistress ! 
 merciful heaven ! But you are pale and ill, 
 Emily. I am sure I did not mean to dis- 
 tress you." _ 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton interfered, and recom- 
 mended patience and resignation to Miss 
 Sand ford. 
 
 Emily, recovering her spirits, said, " It 
 is my earnest request that you, Maria, will 
 never mention my mother's name to me, 
 unless you can do so with moderation and 
 patience. My best advice now is, that you 
 immediately return to your uncle's house; 
 
THE FATAL CABINET, 87 
 
 that you endeavour to forget the past ; for 
 remember, it is the great criterion of a libe- 
 ral mind to sink in oblivion irremediable 
 injuries." 
 
 Miss Sandford alisolutely cried from vex- 
 ation at the idea of leaving London, and 
 recapitulated the various hardships she 
 should endure in her uncle's large and 
 troublesome family ; but it were unneces- 
 sary to dwell minutely on this subject, — 
 Maria was, at length, persuaded to return 
 to her uncle, and the generosity of Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton fully satisfied all her pecuniary 
 neces&ities. 
 
 Emily's mind was naturall}'' a strong one, 
 and when the first tumult of distress and 
 disappointment had subsided, she suppres- 
 sed her wishes for solitude, and endeavour- 
 ed, by constant employment, to check the 
 emotions of sensibility, which are only un- 
 controulable bv an erroneous indulgence. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton urged her to accompany 
 the family to the theatre and the opera, and 
 to join the respectable society of their 
 friends ; kindly, but delicately susfgestiiig, 
 that such a line of conduct was the only 
 method to silence the voice of calumny. 
 
 Edward Fitsmorton was now their con- 
 stant attendant. Every kind attention that 
 friendly love could devise, was sedulously 
 offered by him. Books, music, drawing, 
 
SS THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 all species of amusement which could be- 
 guile her of distressing reflections, were se- 
 lected for Emily Grosvenor. 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton was, perhaps, a keener 
 observer than his morose habits indicated. 
 He had of late fancied he saw an unwar- 
 rantable partiality between the young peo- 
 ple ; ^nd even taxed his wife for encourag- 
 ing it; at the same time hinting, that he 
 thought Emily was living in idleness, when 
 she ought to be anxious for some occupa- 
 tion. Mrs. Fitsmorton dared not support 
 her favourite as she wished to do, knowing 
 that to exasperate by contradiction, was 
 not the plan to pursue. She, therefore, 
 mildly listened to her husband's illiberal 
 reflections, and endeavoured to palliate the 
 circumstances from whence they originated. 
 But soon a trifling incident which occurred 
 at the theatre again aroused his suspicions, 
 raid eventually brought on an explanation 
 of Edward's sentiments. In the middle of 
 the last act of the play, some young men 
 had nearly forced themselves into the box 
 where the Fitsmortons were sitting, and 
 were rudely gazing at, and remarking Emi- 
 ly Grosvenor. Edward endeavoured to sub- 
 due the impetuosity of his feelings. One 
 of them continued to hold the door in his 
 hand, notwithstanding many repetitions of, 
 *•• Shut the door," from the interior of the 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 9§ 
 
 box. At length, Edward stood up, and in 
 a commanding tone, again called out, 
 " Shut the door." This produced an im- 
 perious answer from one of the most intox- 
 icated of the young men; and, though lit- 
 tle in a condition either to argue or to fight, 
 he attempted the one, and talked of the 
 other. 
 
 Emily said, in a low voice, " Edward be 
 moderate, for the sake of those that love 
 you." 
 
 Fascinated by her voice and manner, he 
 stooped to whisper something tender and 
 conciliating, when one of the intrusive par- 
 ty called out to know " who it was that 
 disturbed the audience 1" 
 
 Before Edward could reply, Mrs. Fits- 
 morton, with infinite presence of mind, 
 turned round to the questioner, and said, 
 " Sir, it was at my request that the door 
 was so frequently desired to be shut." 
 
 The gentleman who last spoke, and who 
 appeared to be the least inebriated of the 
 party, bowed ; and immediately answered : 
 
 " A lady,s request can never be unat- 
 tended to ;" and, whisperino: to his violent 
 companion, they suddenly left the box, to 
 the great comfort of Emily. Edward had 
 ascertained that the intruders were some 
 of Sir George Sinclair's companions, and 
 jealous of E-milv^s consequence and honour, 
 8* 
 
9» THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 it was with much ditiiculty he could per- 
 suade himselt to let them depart in peace, 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton had been a watchtul ob- 
 server ot" this scene, and the next day he 
 seriously expostulated with Mrs. Fitsmor- 
 ton for so long detaining Emily in the tami- 
 Jy, again taxed her with having encourag- 
 ed Edward's nonsensical preteren* e of a 
 girl so situated. Of course, she denied the 
 charge, and declared, that she believed 
 Emily had little suspicion that she was 
 the object of their present altercation. 
 
 " Yes," he satirically ansv ered, " a ve- 
 ry likely story that she cannot perceive 
 what is so evident to others. Your sex 
 
 are generally d d cleai-sighted upon 
 
 these occasions. A fine settlemrut for iife^ 
 a fine salvo for all the disgrace her mother 
 brings into her family, would be a marriage 
 with mine ! By heavens ! Madam, th"uuh 
 you know how much 1 love my son, I 
 would be estranged from him for ever, rath- 
 er than consent to such a degradation !" 
 
 Here Mrs. Fitsmorton, irritated by her 
 husband's manner, and warm in Emily's 
 favour, endeavoured to controvert his illi- 
 beral ideas, and even ventured to hint Mrs. 
 Grosvenor's depravity could never disgrace 
 her daughter. 
 
 The gathering storm was bursting into 
 words. Mr, Fitsmorton told her that he 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 91 
 
 was more and more convinced she had abet- 
 ted and encouraged an attachment so det- 
 rimental to the happiness ol liis family, and 
 was proceeding to tart her violence of lan- 
 guage, when Edv^aid, who had been in the 
 adjoiningdravv ine -room, in vol unlaniy heard 
 the causf^ of their dispute. He now en- 
 tered, and beint^ rather roughly accosted by 
 his fiiher on me subject, he replied : 
 
 *' Had you. Sir, openly and candidly 
 spoken to me instead of thus accusing my 
 mother, my answer would have been proriipt 
 and decisive. But hetbre we investigate 
 the affair, periTiit me to assure you that 
 she is entirly innocent of your undeserved 
 accusations. My dear mother," he con- 
 tinued, " let me lead you to your dressing- 
 room," affectionately kissing her, " my fe- 
 ther and I shall best discuss this subject 
 alone." So sayina:, he with gentle force 
 conducted Mrs. Fitsmorton to her apart- 
 ment, and then returned to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " You carry all things with a high hand. 
 Sir," was his father's first nnirracious remark. 
 
 " 1 am at a loss to comprehend your 
 meaning, Sir." 
 
 " It is very evident to me that Emily 
 Grosvenor and you are mutually attached." 
 
 Edward bowed — *' Sir, you much rejoice 
 me by this intelligence ; for I take heayen 
 
92 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 to witness, I knew not of Miss Grosvenor'a 
 enchanting preference." 
 
 " No prevarication, Sir, do you not in- 
 tend to make her your wife ?" 
 
 "1 will be very candid in my answer. 
 When first 1 became acquainted with Miss 
 Grosvenor, I was suffering from disappoint- 
 ment and affliction ; her artless attentions 
 excited ray gratitude, and her society could 
 alone arouse the faculties of my mind into 
 action. I thought 1 should ever love her 
 as a sister, though even then she sometimes 
 reminded me of the angel 1 had lost. 1 will 
 be sincere enough to confess, that I knev7 
 not the extent of my regard, until 1 thought 
 she had eloped with Sir George Sinclair.. 
 I endeavoured to despise the indiscretion 
 and frivolity of her character, yet the agi- 
 tation of my feelings convinced me how 
 much 1 lamented her apostacy from deco- 
 rum, and that time alone could restore se- 
 renity to my mind. 
 
 " VV^hen she appeared before us, radiant 
 in virtue and in truth ! who can compre- 
 hend emotions 1 experienced ; they were 
 even undefinable to myself! 
 
 " Since this period, Sir, I have daily wit- 
 nessed her manifold perfections, and were 
 I assured of her reg^ard, it mii^ht he the 
 means of formmg my yet unsteady charac-^ 
 ter/* 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 93 
 
 ** Then my surmises are just; but, by 
 heaven ! I vvill never consent to so ill-jiklg- 
 ed, so disgraceful an union ! Ally yourself 
 to depravity ! to a woman who, however 
 infamous in her conduct, is still the mother 
 of Emily Grosvenor!" 
 
 " Recollect, Sir, it is the daughter, not 
 the mother, 1 would many. There never 
 was a purer mind than Emily Grosvenor^s, 
 nor can she fail to be respected, standing 
 firmly on the basis of her own intrinsic 
 merit. She appears to be every thing the 
 heart of man can wish." 
 
 " This is very high-flown language, lov- 
 er-like expressions indeed ! And I am then 
 to understand that this paragon of perfec- 
 tion is to be received into our family ? to 
 the destruction of the hopes 1 had encourag- 
 ed, that if ever you married again, you 
 would give us a respectable daughter in 
 the person of Jemima Travers?" 
 
 Stung viith indign-^^tion at his father's 
 manner, and fearful of answering him im- 
 properly on the subject, he said — 
 
 *' We will, if 3'ou please, defer the con- 
 versation. 1 wish to be accessary to your 
 happiness ; but, in justice to myself, I must 
 Iclaim the privilege of also consulting my 
 own. The lady you have mentioned can 
 never be my wife. My future fate must 
 rest upon the determination of Emily Gros» 
 venor herself." . . 
 
9* THE FATAL CABINET. ] 
 
 He then left his father, too much agitat- 
 ed to meet his mother or Emily, and though 
 he did violence to his inclination, he ab-| 
 sented himself from his father's house for, 
 some days, not having resolution to decidei 
 his fate immediately. Love being gene- 
 rally full of doubt and apprehension, he as 
 often pictured to himself Emily's refusal, 
 as he did her assent to his proposals. 
 
 Mrs. Filsmorton suffered much from her 
 husband's unfeeling reproaches, at his con- 
 viction that she had encourage'd her son'^ 
 partiality for Emily ; who saw with pain 
 that her kind and friendly adviser was pe 
 culiarly unhappy. Just at this period sh( 
 received a very atTectionate letter from Mrs 
 Mason, pointing out to her a safe and re 
 spectable conveyance to Ipswich, with eve 
 ry persuasion that friendship could sugges 
 to induce Emilv to make her the long pro 
 mised visit. Mrs. Fitsmorton gave an un 
 willing consent, and every thing was sooi 
 arranged for the journey. Emily seemec 
 to leave her heart behind her, and wit| 
 many sisterly remembrances to Edwar 
 Fitsmorton, thousrh his late absence ha 
 appeared to her very extraordinary, sfi| 
 tore herself from the embrace of the wee| 
 ing Mary, and left London with varioi, 
 and distressing feelina^s. 
 
 When settled in Mrs. Mason's comfor 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. gs 
 
 'lablc habitation, the image of Fdward Fits- 
 morton would intrude ; she even avowed 
 'to lier own heart, that she loved him as a 
 brother, and esteemed him as a t'riend ;' and 
 felt hurt that he had absented himself from 
 his father's house for some days, without 
 any ostensible reason, when he knew she 
 was so soon to leave town ; and, at length, 
 reasoned herself into the belief, that her 
 jdisappointments and Mrs. Grosvenor's dis- 
 grace had made her society less interesting 
 'to him than usual. Then, instantly check- 
 ing such vain and useless retrospections, 
 she sought in the casual employment and 
 'amusement of the day, relief from her op- 
 pressive and uneasy refl«H'tions. She soon 
 began to consult Mrs. Mason on plans for 
 her future life ; that kind iriend only re- 
 quested that she would consider herself at 
 ! home, and take time and deliberation to 
 resolve on so important a subject. 
 
 When Edward Fitsmorton tbuad that 
 1 Emily had left his father's house during the 
 [few days of his absence, he immedialely 
 '-confessed to his mother and sister his fu- 
 [ ture intentions, and well cudd he discover 
 1 that nothin4' but Mr. Fjrsm^)rtOii's unwar- 
 'i rantable repugnence to the match prevent- 
 ed their full avow^al of the most unquali- 
 fied approbation. He so:ight an-^^^tlx^r/'on- 
 .ference with his father, and again they 
 
96 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 parted in dissatisfaction and anger ; deter- 
 mined to know if Eaiily regarded him as 
 he wished, decisitju followed the delibera- 
 tion of a moment, and throwing himself 
 into a post-chai'^e, he was on the road to 
 Ipswich without any one suspecting his 
 intentions. 
 
I 
 
 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Edward Fitsmorton's arrival at Ips- 
 .vvicli was tp Emily, at the first moment of 
 their meeting, higlily graiitying. Too inte- 
 rested on the subject nearest his lieart to 
 dwell long upon any other, he soon sought 
 an opportunity to confess his unalterable 
 attachment, that his future hopes of hap- 
 piness depended upon her alone, and await- 
 ed in tremulous anxiety for a sincere avow- 
 al of her sentiments. 
 
 Emily's answer gave hini little reason to 
 despair; he read in her countenance the 
 y^y his unexpected presence atTorded her. 
 The delusions of hope gilded the passing 
 hour, and they parted in the evening, anti- 
 cipating a morning's conversation, when 
 they could more fully arrange future plans 
 of happiness. But Emily was long k(^pt 
 awake in tracing hack their conference, and 
 in blaming herself for having encouraged 
 Edward's hopes without the consent of ^Ir. 
 and Mrs. Fitsmorton. She thought she 
 had been too candid, and too unguarded 
 in her expressions ; and she felt that when 
 her heart was so much interested, it was 
 difficult to mark the bounds where indis- 
 cretion commences, determining, when 
 they met in the morning, to know if jNIr, 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
''*!^ 
 
 9? THK FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Fitsmorton's consent had sanctioned the 
 wishes of his son. 
 
 Emily's countenance, at the breakfast 
 hour, bor6 the traces of anxiety, and she 
 replied to all Edward's tender inquiries 
 with an unusual agitation of manner. As 
 soon as they were alone, he asked an ex- 
 planation of the cause. Emily then reca- 
 pitulated her waking' reveries, and added : 
 
 " 1 do not retract my words, but, Ed- 
 ward, 3^ou must indeed be more explicit on 
 the subject. Consider the peculiarity of 
 my situation ; a mother's disgrace hanging 
 over me ! I should have deferred my par- 
 tial avowal in your favour, till convinced 
 that all your family were equally unpreju- 
 diced. In one word, what are your father's 
 sentiments 1 Does he wish — at least, does 
 he approve of your intentions ?" 
 
 " Dear Emily, am I to sacrifice all that 
 can endear existence if his prejudices are 
 not to be overcome? My mother will glory 
 in my choice ; she will consider you as a 
 blessing and an ornament to her family.— 
 Mary is already the sister of your heart : 
 and my child, though now too young to 
 appreciate the advantages she will receive, 
 will hereafter convince you of her grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " Hold not out such flattering prospects 
 to my view — tempt me not to act unwor- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 99 
 
 thily — I will never receive your addresses 
 witliout Mr. Fitsmorton's approbation.^' 
 
 " Emily, I have mistaken your charac- 
 ter ; I thought you a lovely disinleresting 
 being, whose heart throbbed in unison with 
 mine, who — '' 
 
 She interrupted him, saying: " This is, 
 indeed, too much, and nothing but the con- 
 sciousness of not deserving your unkind- 
 ness can meliorate the acuteness of my feel- 
 ings. 1 have, perhaps, been imprudent in 
 prematurely confessing my regard for you, 
 but judge of its sincerity, when 1 say, I 
 cannot retract it ! and if your father consent 
 to our union, I could look forward to eve- 
 ry prospect of felicity." 
 
 Edward earnestly wished to persuade her 
 that his father would very soon be recon- 
 ciled to their marriage ; that he himself was 
 sufficiently independent to secure to her 
 all the comforts, if not the luxuries, of life ; 
 and that he had once thought — ' An ele- 
 s^ant sufficiencv' would content a mind 
 resting on a firmer basis for happiness than 
 on the tinselled pageantry which riches 
 might command. Notwithstandinsf all the 
 sophistry of his persuasions, Emily remain- 
 ed firm and decisive, and they parted in 
 that species of sorrowing anger which lov- 
 ers have-a thousand times felt, and a thou- 
 sand times overcome. Before Edward 
 
lOO THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 reached London, he repented of the harsh- 
 ness of his behaviour, and on arriving at 
 home, he wrote a letter to Emily, solicit- 
 ing her pardon for what had passed ; at the 
 same time urging her not to drive him to 
 despair, as it might be the means of his ar- 
 ranging future plans, which would little ac- 
 cord with the happiness of either party. 
 
 In answer to which letter, Emily wrote 
 as follows : 
 
 To Edward Fifsmorton, Esq. 
 
 " Would that I knew% my dear friend, in 
 what language to soothe your mind to 
 peace ! and at the same time to convince 
 you, that I am only swayed by delicacy and 
 prudence, from the conviction that our 
 mutual unhappiness would ensue were I 
 now to accede to your proposals. What- 
 ever prejudices your father has imbibed, 
 they are the prejudices of the world, and I 
 am persuaded that a serious breach with 
 him would be the consequence of your 
 marriage with me. The supposition of 
 your independence, in every sense of the 
 word, may lead you to imagine that this 
 would only prove a transient regret and 
 unhappiness. But, Edward, consider, how 
 would the increasing misery of your mother 
 embitter all your days ! Our dear Mary 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 161 
 
 too ! what a task she would have to per- 
 form ! The prejudices of one parent, and 
 the grief of the other, constantly giving rise 
 to distressing altercation. And, oh ! my 
 dear friend ! all this for me ! for one whose 
 mother is marked with disgrace, who is her- 
 self suddenly become a destitute being, 
 from unforeseen disappointment ! 
 
 " Misunderstand me not, to your noble, 
 your generous nature, these pleas, situated 
 as we are, would prove irresistible claims 
 on your heart and affections ; but never will 
 I take advantage of such generosity! never 
 will I enter into your family as a suppliant 
 and a beggar, though my heart break in the 
 eventful struggle between duty and love ! 
 Be convinced that your happiness is dearer 
 to me than my own ; and also recollect 
 what prospect in life I refuse, and what 
 prospect I look forward to ! Exert then, 
 dear Edward, the stability of your mind, 
 and be assured that I shall ever remain 
 " Your affectionate well-wisher 
 and friend, 
 
 *' Emily Grosvenor." 
 
 The Answer. 
 
 To Miss Grosvenor. 
 
 " Emily, how I envy the habitual tem- 
 per of your mind ! you that can sacrifice 
 9 * 
 
103 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 every tender consideration to the cold dic- 
 tates of reason and of prudence ! Disap- 
 pointment presses hard upon my spirits. 
 My resolutions are irrevocably taken. I 
 will write to you once more ; and a long 
 adieu will probably terminate our corres- 
 pondence ! 
 
 Edward Fitsmorton.*' 
 
 When Emily perused this letter, the first 
 impulse of her heart would have induced 
 her to recant the resolutions she had tor- 
 med. To Mrs. Mason she confided the 
 particulars of her situation, and with trem- 
 bling inipatience awaited for the advice 
 she had requested. 
 
 Mrs. Mason said : " The part you have 
 to sustain is of a very perplexing and deli- 
 cate nature ; but, my dear girl, you cannot 
 weakly yield where your deliberate judg- 
 ment convinces you of the fallacy of such 
 a conduct. Mr. Fitsmorton has written to 
 you in great trepidation of spirits ; trust 
 me, when this is past, you will rise higher 
 in his esteem ; that you have really acted 
 from principle, not to be shaken by his 
 blameable reproaches, or his obscure hints 
 of the future. Recollect that the same 
 motives, the same circumstances, still cal 
 vipon you for exertion as when you las 
 wrote to him." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. f«i 
 
 Emily interrupted her: " 1 am ashamed 
 that d momentary weakness should have 
 thus prevailed. 1 am still the same pro- 
 scribed desolate being ; too proud to steal 
 inio a family ; and where 1 should wider 
 spread iis domestic unhappiness, even with- 
 out ensuring my own." So Emily telt, 
 and so she thouoht, but the hours passed 
 heavily on, and she looked towards the fu- 
 ture in fearful anxiety, and on the past 
 with unavailinia: regret. Mrs. Grosvenor 
 was ever present to her mind. To think 
 that the being to whom she owed her ex- 
 istence, h;id for ever lost all claim to re- 
 spectability, was torture to her bosom ; and 
 there were times when she felt so degraded 
 by her mother's conduct, that obscurity 
 through life appeared to be the fate she 
 ought to wish for; and she hoped that the 
 exertions, which of necessity she would 
 so(Mi be compelled to make to gain her own 
 livelihood, would prove easier in their prac- 
 tice than her imagination represented them. 
 
 How often does the mind, when sur- 
 rounded by the blessings of prosperity, 
 swell with oroud exultation at the idea of 
 gaining an hon >urable independence, by 
 the exertions of industry, perseverance, and 
 fortitude ! and how often, when such boast- 
 ed theory is reduced to practice, does it 
 shrink from the mortifications annexed te 
 
184 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 poverty and dependence ! Such is human 
 nature! au:] nothing but the consciousness 
 ot acting from the dictates of a virtuous 
 fortitude, can counteract the despondency 
 which the gloomy prospects of poverty 
 holds forth to those vv'ho have possesed the 
 comforts and blessings of an affluent for- 
 tune ! 
 
 After Edv»^ard Fitsmorton had written 
 his last short letter to Emily, he resolved 
 to enter into the army ; and fancying his 
 determination irrevocable, he attended his 
 father's usual invitation to dine with appa- 
 rent composure. Miss Travers was spend- 
 ing a few days at the house, and when 
 seated between her and his sister at dinner- 
 time, he even attempted something like 
 gaiety in his conversation. Mr. Fitsmor- 
 ton exulted in the thought that Edward 
 might one day or other be sensible of Miss 
 Traver's attractions, and all things gomg 
 right in the culinary department, no pas- 
 sing cloud disturbed the serenity of the 
 moment. Edward's occasional reveries 
 were however various and unpleasant; he 
 already repented of the decisive letter he 
 had written to Emily. He hoped she 
 would relent, that she would request an 
 explanation of his laconic epistle; and this 
 vague expectation contributed to his tri- 
 fling away a few days, wishing for a tem- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. icr. 
 
 porary reprieve before he executed his reso- 
 lutions. 
 
 By Mr. Fitsmorton's arrangement, some 
 tete-a- t6tes were contrived between Edward 
 and Miss Travers. Her good spirits had 
 amused the whole family, and though she 
 appeared of a volatile disposition, she dis- 
 covered more of Mr. Fitsmor ton's plans 
 than he imagined ; and as she playfully en- 
 couraged Edward's attentions, his judgment 
 became the dupe of his wishes ; having also 
 been a little tutored by Mary, she resolved 
 to come to a right explanation the next 
 time chance or design left her and Edward 
 together. This was very soon accomplish- 
 ed, and after they had settled the state of 
 the weather and other mttresiirig topics, 
 Miss Travers could not suppress her risi- 
 bility. Edward, somewhat discomposed, 
 requested to know what she laughed at ? 
 
 " At you," was her laconic reply. 
 
 He ironically expressed his thunks. 
 
 " It would be a great triumph," she 
 playfully continued, " to relax the austeri- 
 ty of your countenance." 
 
 He smiled, " VV^ell, 1 thought I possessed 
 the power — when do you begin to — to — 
 pay your adoration — to the most angelic 
 of her sex ? — Is not this a lover's lan- 
 guage ?" 
 
 " Dear Miss Travers ! — Your conduct is 
 
J06 THE FATAL CABINET, 
 
 SO eccentric ! — How have I deserved this 
 ridicule ?" 
 
 " I will tell you, most sorrowful knight 
 of despondency : — The worthy gentleman 
 who has the honour of being your father, 
 having taken a great fancy either to me, or 
 to my fortune, wishes to receive both into 
 his i'amily ; and the most reasonable, the 
 most honest method he can devise, is, to 
 join you and 1 in wedlock's holy bands. I 
 do not like the turns of your countenance, 
 Mr. Fitsmorton : Surely you do not mean 
 to refuse so prudent, so reasonable an al- 
 lia nc^ r^ 
 
 y«?**Could I for a moment suppose Miss 
 Travers to be serious, I might perhaps in- 
 genuously answer her. If she be only 
 sporting with the inquietude of my feelings, 
 1 am at a loss to make her comprehend the 
 pain she is inflicting." 
 
 *' A very rational monotonous answer 
 indeed! I was in hopes of enjoying the 
 glory of refusing you, Sir: but as it is alii 
 the same thing in the calendar of love, ' 
 though perhaps not in that of propriety, am 
 I to understand that you refuse to marry 
 Jemima Travers, the acknowledged heiress 
 of thousands, in opposition to paternal 
 wishes, in opposition to convenience, and 
 a ions: train of prudential considerations ?" 
 
 " Had 1 an heart to bestow—" *' I cannot 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. I07 
 
 just now indulge you in the pathetic. You 
 must seriously attend to me, and believe 
 that under tne appearance of levity is con- 
 cealed a very anxious and susceptible 
 heart.'' 
 
 Edward, still doubtful of her sentiments, 
 bowed, in oreathless expectation of what 
 she >vas about to communicate. She con- 
 tinued, *' You are not now to be seriously 
 told, that your father wishes an union be- 
 tween us to take place. Our consent^ how- 
 ever is, 1 believe, still wanting. You'^ilttv£ 
 your secrets, I have mine, and all we have 
 to do, is to convince him, that you and I 
 cannot overcome our mutual antipathy." 
 ' " Dear Miss Travels ! did you not pro- 
 mise to be very serious I" 
 
 " I protest I had nearly forgotten the 
 promise, or rather, I wish to procrastinate, 
 as long as possible my — my — my confes- 
 sion. Volatile as my temper may have ap- 
 peared, how shall 1 tell you, Mr. Fitsmor- 
 ton, that my affections are irrevocably en- 
 gaged ! You are to imagine that the oliject 
 of my regard is every thing that is good and 
 amiable, and I am only wailing till I be- 
 come of age to bestow my lund and fortune 
 where I have every prospect of permanent 
 felicity." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, my dear MissTra- 
 vers, for your candour and confidence; 
 
108 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 command my best services, and be assur- 
 ed '' 
 
 " 1 guess all you would say, but I am 
 not yet quite reaily to tiiaiik you tor your 
 professions; and — and— ^i have been think- 
 ing, that as you kiiovv my secret, whether 
 it Mould be very indecorous to guess at 
 yours ?" 
 
 " Dear girl, I have no secret ! my heart 
 has lately rested on a lovely interesting be- 
 ing, who only bids me desj>air lirom noble, 
 but mistaken, principles." 
 
 He then recapitulated all that had passed 
 between himselt and Emily, and they part- 
 ed oji terms of confidence and friendship 
 highly interesting to both. 
 
 JNIiss Travers took an early opportunity 
 to undeceive JNlr. Fitsmorton, who had ex- 
 ultingly marked the good understanding 
 Avbich seemed to have taken place between 
 her and his son. She told him that Mr. 
 Edward Fiisinorton,.having had the temer-| 
 ity to make her an offer of his hand, she 
 had made him one of her best curtseys in 
 return, and with great civility begged leave 
 to refuse the honour. She quarrelled with 
 him, and soothed him m a breath, main- 
 taining- her OM n independency of sjiirit, al 
 the same time confessing her prior and un- 
 alterable attachment to anf>ther. Vexedj 
 irritated, and disappointed, that ibis lavcur | 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. jog 
 
 ed aggrandizement of his family was for 
 ever frustrated, the gloomy austerity of his 
 temper seemed daily to increaeie, and Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton often secretly lamented the do- 
 mestic inquietude she experienced. Ed- 
 \vard had not acquainted her with his in- 
 tention of entering into the army ; he felt 
 how severe the stroke would fall on the bo- 
 som of so affectionate a mother ; and he 
 could not help flattering himself with the 
 hope that Emily's resolutions might be 
 "Shaken. — Again he wrote to her, and nar- 
 rated all thnt had passed between him and 
 Miss Travers, and after acquainting her 
 with his military plans, he thus concluded 
 his letter : — • 
 
 " You see, dearest Emily, my fate rests 
 on you alone. One recanting word on your 
 part ensures you mine for ever ! 1 entreat 
 you in the most solemn manner to weigh 
 Well every circumstance, to consider how 
 severely my mother's fortitude will be tried 
 by my embracing a military life ; and not 
 to let the false heroism of a moment em- 
 bitter the peace of those you love : think 
 you not that the temporary estrangement 
 of my father's cordiality would appear 
 light to her in comparison of, perhaps, my 
 permanent banishment? Oh, Emily ! what 
 I have most to contend with is the proud 
 indrpendeucy of your spirit, which cannot 
 
 VOL. I. 10 
 
no THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 brook to enter into a family, because one 
 individual ot it is fatally prejudiced against 
 the alliance ! It is true this individual is 
 my fatlier, but recollect that my spirit is 
 equally independent with your own ; that 
 I am of an age to claim the privilege of 
 judging for myself, and that though 1 would 
 willingly acknowledge the proper duty of 
 a son, that 1 cannot be blind to the illibe- 
 ral prejudices of any human being, nor sub- 
 mit to its trammels against the conviction 
 of reason and deliberate judgment. 
 
 " Tell me not that the conduct of your 
 unfortunate mother militates against your 
 complying with my wishes; tell me not 
 that, reduced by misfortune and disappoint- 
 ment, you cannot supplicate to enter into 
 ray family, Emily, if your attachment 
 were equal to mine, you would immediate- 
 ly become my wife, and secure our happi- 
 ness. Why are my oft-repeated wishes 
 answered by the cold dictates of prudence ? 
 Oli, he assured, they cannot chill the ar-. 
 dour of an affection, like mine! an affec-' 
 tion which peculiar circumstances have so 
 contributed to increase, that it can end but 
 with my life. I seek not to persuade you 
 by the romantic efilusions of passions, but 
 by the conviction of unbiassed reason. — 
 Consider well before you determine my 
 fate. Let no false estimate of imacrinarv 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. in''* 
 
 duty lead you to renounce for ever our mu- 
 tual prospect of felicity ! for have you not, 
 my dearest Emily, acknowledged, that 
 Edward Fitsmorton is not an object of in- 
 difference to you. 
 
 " Heaven bless you !" ^ * 
 
 Etiiilt/'s Answer. 
 
 " The letter I have this instant received 
 is little calculated to soothe the perturba- 
 tion of my mind, or to assist me in arrang- 
 ing my ideas as I ought to do. Only this, 
 my dear friend, I can now say, on the 
 heart-breaking subject ; that 1 had not de- 
 termined to forego the sweetest prospect 
 of human felicity, but from the conviction 
 of my deliberate judgment. 
 
 " 1 supplicate you to suspend your in- 
 tentions of embracing a military life. Dear 
 Edward, should your father relent in my 
 favour, what a barrier to domestic happi- 
 ness would you have placed ; but above 
 all, think of your mother! think how such 
 an estrangement from the family would 
 wound her heart, without alleviating the 
 sorrows of your own! My dear friend, such 
 a life is ill calculated for you ! How I 
 should tremble for the health and spirits 
 of your sister, were the anxiety of your 
 absence added to her mind in its present 
 
112 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 dejected state ! Shali I say I can well judge 
 of her feelings by my own ? Do noi act 
 with precipitation : Oh, that your father 
 could read the heart o\' Emily Grosvenor P^ 
 
 Before Edward received the above letter, 
 Mr. Fitsmorton had spoken very explicit- 
 ly to him in respect to pecuniary affairs, 
 acknowledging that Miss Travers's fortune 
 would have been most acceptabld in the 
 family ; and reverting to the romantic folly 
 of his attachment to Miss Grosvenor. To 
 along lecture on this subject Edward re- 
 plied : 
 
 *' Miss Travers now, Sir, is quite out of 
 the question, and perhaps it may afford you 
 some gratification to know, that 1 am also 
 refused by Emily Grosvenor ! she disdains 
 to be allied to a family wherein every in- 
 dividual will not receive her with joy and 
 respect. She considers my happiness su- 
 perior to her own, and by an erroneous 
 calculation, dooms me to a life inimical to 
 my domestic habits, and probably detri- 
 mental to my future prospects.^^ 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton, with all his apathy of 
 disposition, appeared to feel the delicacy 
 of Emily's conduct, but thinking it best to 
 be silent on the subject, he requested an 
 explanation of Edward's last assertion in 
 regard to his future plans. 
 
 " I allude, Sir, to my adopting a military 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 113 
 
 life ; the army will be a sure refuge for a 
 disappointed heart." 
 
 The expression of Mr. Fitsmorton's 
 countenance instantly changed. 
 
 " The army ! the army ! Edward," he re- 
 pealed ; "surely you cannot be serious?" 
 
 " It is not, Sir, merely the thought of 
 the moment, and 1 will be very ingenuous 
 with you. I mean to make one more at- 
 tempt to subdue Miss Grosvenor^s spirited 
 resolves, and permit my fate to be deter- 
 mined by her award." 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton replied with a forced 
 composure of manner, ''If your romantic 
 perseverance succeed, and probably it may, 
 with an unprotected disappointed girl, beau 
 in mind, that you, as the husband of Emi- 
 ly Grosvenor, must give up your father 
 and family !" At this moment Emily's last 
 letter was brous-ht to Edward Fitsmorton ; 
 he read it in great agitation of mind ; and 
 taking from his pocket the longer one which 
 preceded it, he presented them both to 
 his father, and immediately left the room. 
 
 ^Ir. Fitsmorton's mind was proud, ob- 
 stinate, and weak, nor could he have for- 
 med an idea that Emily would act so dis- 
 interestedly. The repugnance he felt to 
 receive her into the family, a beggar, as he 
 termed her, stigmatized with her mother's 
 depravity, suppressed every thought favour- 
 10 * 
 
11* THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 able to Edward^s hapjiiness ; still he loved . 
 his soil, he was even proud ot him ; and 
 felt that he was the hope and ornament of 
 the family, and the idea ot hjs embracing a 
 military lite, was an unconquerable morti- 
 fication. A'j;itaied by the various feelings 
 of the moment he entered his wife's dres- 
 sing-room, and without any prelude to the 
 distressing subject, he said: " It you are 
 not yet acquainted, Madam, with your 
 dutiful son's intentions, I must inform you 
 he is going into the army, because 1 will 
 not disgrace my family, by countenancing 
 his union with Emily Grosvenor, who has 
 perhaps artfully written these letters on 
 purpose to dupe me." 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton, shocked and distressed 
 at the confirmation of intellioence she had 
 dreaded to anticipate, endeavoured to sup- 
 press her own feelings to reason with her 
 husband on the blessing he was casting 
 from him; but far from beins: conciliate4. 
 by her gentleness, and irritate bv the con- 
 trariety of his own emotions, he again re- 
 proached her as being the primarv cause 
 of this domestic uneasiness, aoitatinsf him- 
 self in so violeni a manner, that a sort of 
 suffocation ensued, and he tell senseless 
 on the floor. Medical assistance was im- 
 medi.itely procured, and he was sedulously 
 attended by the family during a fortnightjS 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. llj 
 
 confinement. To prevent Emily farther 
 int|iiietude, Edwaril and IVlary Ijnth cun- 
 tiniied lo write to her, avoiding to mention 
 the cause ot Mr. Fitsmorton's illness ; 
 Edward's letters breathing tenderness and 
 love, assuring her he had tor the present 
 suspendsid his military plans, but that she 
 should be a<'quainted wit-h them betbre 
 they were finally determined ; of course she 
 could not divest her mind of anxiety on 
 his account, but fancied he had relinquish- 
 ed all thoughts of a private marriage, and 
 turned her mind to the idea of gaining 
 some eligible situation in the world. Mis. 
 Mason had been perstiaded to make many 
 enquiries: Emily wrote herself to Dr. Lt-i- 
 cester, statiiiij her future intentions ; and 
 at the very moment she was consulting 
 with Mr^. Mi-^on, whether she should un- 
 dertake the tuition ol two children of quali- 
 ty, the post brr>ui*ht her the following let- 
 ter from Dr. Leicester: — 
 
 To Miss Grosvenor, 
 
 " Your account of yourself, my dear 
 youna: I idv, has so interested our f eliniis ; 
 ynur condu<*t so excites our admiiatiiu, that 
 wt wish to be more intimately acquainted 
 with a mind, actuated by such laudable 
 and disinterested principles. Y'>u well 
 know how we are situated ; shall 1 with 
 
ii6 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 prompt sincerity propose to you a plan 
 which we ht)pe will prove beneficial to yuur 
 spirits, and which we are persuaded will be 
 highly advantageous and gratifying to us ? 
 Mrs. Leicester and myself have never met 
 with a human being, since the death of our 
 lamented Louisa, of so fair a promise as 
 yourself: one who could so well contribute 
 to fill our bosoms' aching void, and to prove 
 to us, in every sense of the word, a bless- 
 ing from the hand of heaven ! Have you 
 yet anticipated, my dear Miss Grosvenor, 
 what I am about to request ? Come and try 
 the manner of our life ; come only for one 
 twelvemonth, during that time accede to 
 our proposals, and afterwards we will ac- 
 cede to yours. Such a companion as your- 
 self would be an acquisition to my dear 
 wife, and again bid her look forward to 
 days of peace, nor are we always sad or 
 ripening at the decrees of heaven ; and to 
 contribute to the happiness of others, is the 
 best exhiliration of our spirits. With the 
 most anxious impatience we shall await 
 the result of your mature deliberation. — • 
 Write us, my dear, every emotion of your 
 heart, and that you will confer on us the 
 requested felicity of your society, is the 
 earnest and sincere wish of one who hopes 
 ever to prove himself 
 
 " Your paternal friend, 
 
 " F. Leicester." 
 
k THE FATAL CABINET. II7 
 
 This letter was received by Emily with a 
 gratetul heart : Mrs. Mason strongly ao vis- 
 ed her to accept so liberal and respectable a 
 protection. All other plans were immedi- 
 ately suspended, and Emily answered Dr. 
 Leicester's letter as he wished she should. 
 Every arrangement was quickly made, and 
 all parties agreed, that in about a month 
 Emily should visit the rectory, to settle 
 every tiling for her permanent residence. 
 
 i 
 
lis THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 When Mr. Fitsmorton was recovered 
 from liis indisposition, Emily experienced 
 a severe iriul in a visit from his son, but 
 even the eloquence of love could not pre 
 vail. Emily had now marked the line of 
 conduct she thought she ought to pursue ; 
 and stability of mind, strengthened b\^ ma 
 ture reflection, gave permanency to her 
 resolutions. She entreated him to postponci 
 going into the army for six months. She; 
 was willing to enter into an engagement 
 never to marry, if fate prevented their un 
 ion, and gave him overy assurance that hei 
 present refusal did not originate in caprice 
 or indifference. To all her gentle argu- e 
 ments and persuasions, he answered with 
 impatience and disappointment; and eli 
 gible as he appeared the plan of her be 
 ing an inmate at Dr. Leicester's, he toki 
 her, " Still it was dependence, and ever^ 
 thing contributed to the wish, that he him 
 self should become her only protector." In 
 short, they parted completely miserable; 
 nor did Fitsmorton's mind at all recovei 
 its serenity, by the vain endeavour to rej 
 concile his mother to the change of pursuijljt 
 he meditated, in entering into the army g( 
 and owing to her distress of mind, he ha ^jj 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 119 
 
 not resolution to acquaint Mr. Fitsmorton 
 with his final determination. 
 ' When Emily was settled with her new 
 •friends at the rectory, Edward confirmed 
 to his lather her decisive refusal to enter 
 ■into the iamily without the approbation of 
 all parties, at the same tiule declaring, that 
 he would never marry s.ny other woman, 
 lindigUcMitly hintiuij the inefficacy of Mr. 
 Fiismortun lamenting the effects of their 
 imurual uneasiness, when the cause rested 
 with him alone. Every idea of preparation, 
 or liint of Edward's future plans, filled his 
 father's mind with horror and despair ; but 
 as obstinacy was its leading trait, he could 
 'not bring himself to give up a point, in 
 hvhich he fancied the dignity of his family 
 I was so materially concerned. 
 3 Edward Fitsmorton continued to write 
 'to Emily, and she answered his letters, if 
 ; only to prohibit farther persuasions on a 
 subject so distressing to both. Dr. Leices- 
 Her offered to interfere, and endeavour to 
 overcome Mr. Fitsmorton's unfortunate 
 i prejudices against her ; but to this she 
 iwould not consent, and could she obtain a 
 1' faithful promise from Edward Fitsmorton 
 vnot to think of the army for six months to 
 ti come, she thought she should feel compar- 
 'atively happy ; but many and severe were 
 'the conflicts of her mind, to answer with 
 
129 THE FATAL CABINET, 
 
 resolution and propriety all his sophistical 
 arguments to induce her to elope with him. 
 The step was so repugnant to the delicacy 
 of her feelings, the peculiar situation Mrs. 
 Grosvenor had exposed her to, forbid the 
 pleadings of her heart in t'avour of a man 
 she so truly loved, and she trusted to time 
 and circumstances for her being honoura 
 bly received into his family. Mary^s let- 
 ters were her great comtbrt and support 
 but never could Emily account for the ex- 
 treme dejection of her friend^s spirits. ^Tis 
 true she partook of the amusements suited 
 to her age, but Emily knew that Mary's 
 heart little participated, and was very rare- 
 ly interested, in scenes of gaiety and cheer- 
 fuhiess. Often had Mrs. Fiismorton la 
 men ted to her this indifference and apath; 
 of disposition, but neither could guess th- 
 probable cause of such habitual melancho 
 ly. Soon, however, the attention of th, 
 family was aroused and excited, by the ap 
 parent indisposition of Edward Fitsmorton 
 and they began to tancy that consumptiv 
 habits were aheady undermining his con 
 stitution. Mrs. Fitsmorton, with all th! 
 inquietude of maternal love, marked thi 
 progress of his disorder ; weak and timic 
 when exertion was necessary, on her ow 
 account, but resolute in a cause whir 
 seemed to threaten a serious affliction t 
 
^ THE FATAL CABINET. ijl 
 
 all, she insisted on immediately calling in 
 medical advice, and wrote privately to fid- 
 ward's friend, Alfred Granby, entreating 
 his presence as soon as possible. She nar- 
 rated every circumstance of her son's at- 
 tachment to Emily Grosvenor, and express- 
 ed her hopes that all parties might yet be 
 conciliated by proper and seasonable ad- 
 vice. Alfred Granby answered her letter 
 in person ; and Fitsmorton appeared tran- 
 siently revived by his society ; talked of 
 arranging every thing for the commence- 
 ment of his military career, with the forced 
 \'- gaiety of a despairing heart. The physi- 
 i cian who attended him warmly reprobated 
 his intentions, and instigated by Granby, 
 very seriously expostulated with Mr. Fits- 
 morton on the risk his son would be ex- 
 posed to, by embracing a line of life so in- 
 ) imical to his health and spirits; observing 
 I that his disorder proceeded from anxiety 
 i . and disappointment, and that the conse- 
 I quences might prove fatal, if his mind re- 
 ' mained in so disquieted a state. Alfred 
 ! Granby seconded the probability of the 
 doctor's predictiwjs, and Mr. Fitsmorton, 
 i appalled by such melancholy representa- 
 tions, shocked at the pallid countenance 
 't and the alteration he could not help ac- 
 ? |j:nowledging in the person of his son, at last 
 ! yielded his unwilling consent, and said, 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
122 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 " that if Edward would give up all thoughts 
 of the army, and at the end of six months 
 if he still wished that Emily Grosvenor 
 should become his wife, he would endea- 
 vour so to arrange his atiairs that pecunia- 
 ry inconveniences should be averted;" se- 
 cretly hoping, that in the space of six 
 months some fortunate circumstance might 
 intervene to prevent the union ; and he 
 soon repented that he had not stipulated 
 for a longer period of probation. But the 
 joy of the moment beamed on every coun- 
 tenance, v/hilst returning hilarity of spirits 
 seemed already to presage a permanent res- 
 toration of Fitsmorton's health. 
 
 Bv Miss Travers's address and manasfe- 
 mrnt, Mr. Filsmorton was prevailed on to 
 write a few lines to Emily, and as dispatch 
 is generally in unison with love, blessed 
 with so valuable a credential, Edward could 
 hardly wait the finishing of his mother's 
 and sister's letters, and gaily bidding them 
 farewell, he and his friend, Alfred Granby, 
 were soon travelling on the road to Hert- 
 fordshire. 
 
 Emily had been apprised of Edward's in- 
 disposition ; anxiety magnified her appre- 
 hensions, and could she have followed the 
 natural impulse of her heart, it would have! 
 prompted her to have attended him in the 
 hour of sickness : and notwithstanding thc|j 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 123 
 
 i stability of her mind, she often wept in se- 
 cret at the prospect of her future fate, and 
 sometimes doubted whether her scruples 
 were not leading her far, very I'ar, from the 
 path of happiness ; but the estrangement of 
 Edward Fitsmorton from the bosom of his 
 family, and the misery this would ensure 
 to his mother and sister, the stigma which 
 his father imagined clu'ng to herself, on ac- 
 count of Mrs. Grosvenor's depravity, all 
 contri!)uted to strengthen the resolution she 
 had formed, never to enter the family in a 
 dishonourable or clandestine manner. Eve- 
 ry solace and advice which experience and 
 judgment could suggest, she derived from 
 her respectable companions; and the re- 
 flection that she was acting from the prin- 
 ciples of rectitude and honour, frequently 
 chased from her bosom the feelings of des- 
 pair. 
 
 On the evening cf a very inclement 
 April day, the shutters being closed, and 
 
 ; the comforts of the social tea equipage 
 preparing, whilst Dr. Leicester was select- 
 ing an entertaining book for their mutual 
 amusement, a carriage was heard at some 
 little distance, and soon a violent ringing at 
 the gate announced its arrival. Emily^s 
 heart palpitated — Fitsmorton was associat- 
 ed with every idea — a sort of bustle in the 
 hall, and the servant's answering to some 
 
124 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 one — " Yes, Sir, quite alone," increased 
 iier involuntary alarm. The parlour door 
 was hastily opened, a gentleman entered 
 the room. Emily heard his name ; she 
 knew that Mr. Granby was Fitsmortori^s 
 intimate friend, -and ail the dark forebo- 
 dings of imagination passed in momentary 
 succession across her mind. Before Mr. 
 Granby could prepare her for seeing Fits- 
 morton, she exclaimed, "-My dear Sir, 
 pray let me know the worst ; suspense will 
 only add to my misery. — Your friend is, I 
 fear, very ill, or has he left the country V 
 
 And before Mr. Granby could answer 
 these hurried questions, Fitsmorton, hav- 
 ing recovered from a momentary iaintness 
 proceeding from the lassitude ol" fatigue, 
 ru§]ied into the room, and regardless of the 
 astonished witnesses of his impetuosity, 
 caught Emily to his bosom, calling her his 
 ovvn, his beloved girl, the arbitress of his 
 future fate. The tide of joy which rushed 
 through Emily^s heart, allov/ed for a mo- 
 ment the unchecked rapture of her lover, 
 but instantly sutfusing her cheek with the 
 carnation tint of modesty, she broke from 
 his encircling arms, and endeavoured to 
 assume some degree of composure, then 
 observing Edward's pallid countenance, she 
 burst into tears, and said, " my dear, why 
 this unnecessary trial of your health and 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 125 
 
 spirits ?" a momentary silence ensued. At 
 length, Granby attenipted to explain the 
 cause of their journey, and Edward, taking 
 a packet of letters from his |X)cket, entreat- 
 ed Emily's serious attention to its contents, 
 and not to consider him either a fool or a 
 madman, causelessly to alarm her mind or 
 agitate her spirits. 
 
 Emily, dreading a repetition of distress- 
 ing arguments, took the letters in silence;. 
 Alfred Granby, who had fully explained the 
 reason of their visit to Dr. and Mrs, Leices- 
 ter, now approached Edward, and said, 
 *' who can peruse such interesting letters, 
 whilst there are so many witnesses to es- 
 trange attention ] let us leave the ladies 
 together ; my life on it. Miss Grosvenor, 
 will thank me with smiles^in half an hour 
 for this proposal." So saying, he toolf Dr. 
 Leicester's arm, and they all three lelt the 
 room. The peculiarity of Mr. Granby's 
 manner increased the trepidation of Emily's 
 spirits ; she gazed mournfully on the event- 
 ful packet, till, at length, persuaded and 
 soothed by Mrs.- Leicester, she broke the 
 seal of the envelope, and descried Mrs. Fits- 
 morton's hand-writing. Pressing the letter 
 to her lips, she said, " dear and honoured 
 friend, how I revere your goodness, and 
 love you for every mark of your distinguish^ 
 ed regard to me !" Then taking up a letter; 
 11 * 
 
126 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 directed in Mr. Fiismorton's hand-writing, 
 she exclaimed, " my dear Mrs. Leicesft r, 
 what can this portend ?" And 'ere she had 
 finished reading its contents, she fell the 
 support ot Fitsmorton's arm, who had 
 impatiently re-entered the room, unable to 
 restrain the inquietude of his feelings, 
 though he had apparently attended to the 
 reasonable advice of his more reasonable 
 companions. It may be imagined that a 
 tete-a-tete was the consequence of his in- 
 trusion ; and when it is acknowledged that 
 Fitsmorton thought himself the happiest, 
 and Emily the most perfect of human be- 
 ings. It may also be concluded, that the 
 chaste timidity of genuine affection on her 
 part, encouraged by Mr. Fitsmorton^s con- 
 sent to the alliance, had contributed to 
 pourtray to the lover's imagmation the 
 brightest tints of future felicity. A tran- 
 sitory cloud intervened, Edward's uncer- 
 tain health yielded to fatigue of body 
 and agitation of mind, but a few days con-- 
 finement, and Mrs. Leicester's wholesome 
 prescriptions, offered by the hand of Emily, 
 proved more elficacious than medical rem- 
 edies had hitherto done. 
 
 When Edward and his friend had left the 
 rectory, Emily could hardly believe the re- 
 ality of her present destiny, and the con- 
 Ermation of it was frequently ascertained 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. i27 
 
 )by the perusal of Mr. Fitsmorton's letter. 
 iTo think that she should be clasped to the 
 bosoQi of Edward's mother, as an esteeuied 
 and beloved daughter, that his child would 
 be taught to consider her as the guardian 
 of her future days; that Mary would re- 
 ceive her as a sister, and that in a few 
 months a near and tender cUiim might unite 
 them in the permanent bonds of affection, 
 were the natural anticipations of her mind. 
 Yet so great was the sudden change in her 
 prospects, that she sometimes trembled at 
 the instability of terrestial blessings. Dr. 
 ILeicester, who watched with parental soli- 
 citude every turn of her mind, took all op- 
 portunities to discourage such irritable feel- 
 ings ; and, whilst he reprobated the pre- 
 sumptive rdea that worldly happiness was 
 a plant of permanent duration, he wished 
 I to inculcate that the creatures of dependen- 
 cy could best testify their gratitude, by be- 
 ing satisfied with the dispensations of a 
 bountiful and wise Creator. 
 
 " Believe me," he continued, " my dear 
 Miss Grosvenor, that experience has, in 
 some measure, matured my judgment, and 
 I am convinced that half the miseries of 
 life proceed from a fastidious and perverted 
 imagination. We often anticipate a thou- 
 sand evils which are never realized, and 
 thereby deprive ourselves of that present 
 
las THE FATAL CABINET, 
 
 portion of enjoyment which might prove a 
 solace through the scenes of a chequered 
 and uncertain world. Like a distant fog, 
 wiiich obscures the brilliancy of nature, en- 
 veloping in shade its brightest scenes, yet 
 as the traveller approaches, the fancied 
 gloom is vanished, and cheerful persever- 
 ance at length concludes his journey/' — 
 Emily profited by such salutary counsel, 
 and looked forward with heart-felt satifec 
 tion to a visit from Miss Fitsmorton, with 
 whom she was to return to London for a 
 few weeks. Alfred Granby had long ad- 
 mired Miss Fitsmorton, but the reserve ol 
 her manners, and her pensive disposition, 
 had hitherto precluded an avowal of hi^ 
 sentiments. The temporary cheerfulnes;^ 
 she now evinced at Emily's happiness, in 
 duced him to confide to Edward his Ion: 
 smothered partiality, and being assured bj 
 him that Mary's affections were disengag 
 ed, he openly paid her all those marked at 
 tentions so generally pleasing to the femah 
 mind, yet so distressing^ when not duly ap 
 predated. — Mary, disdaining, every specie 
 of coquetry, saw with regret Mr. Granby" 
 partiality; she knew it was a connectioi 
 her father must approve of, but determine;! 
 to plead the present insensibility of he 
 heart, if seriously urged on the subject. 
 Emily's reception in town was most gr 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. laj 
 
 tifying to her feelings, and when the time 
 of her visit expired, the utmost resolution 
 was necessary to withdraw herself from so 
 beloved a circle. She returned to the rec- 
 tory, and had the satisfaction of returning 
 with Edward's child for her comjDanion. 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton had behaved to Emily 
 with tolerable kindness, but he could not 
 help secretly lamenting that he had not in- 
 sisted upon d longer period before the mar- 
 riage should take place, and when Edward 
 had recovered his health and spirits, he 
 thought he had been too easily persuaded 
 to receive Emily into the family. 
 
 These irritations of a weak mind contri- 
 buted not to the improvement of his tem- 
 per, and Mrs. Fitsmorton rejoiced at the 
 approach of summer, which would take 
 her from the circles of gaiety to scenes 
 more congenial to her mind. Soon after 
 the family were settled at Fitsmorton park 
 for the season, Emily again became their 
 guest, and in her society Edward was often 
 reminded of the angel he had deplored, 
 marking- with peculiarity of feeling their 
 resemblance in mind and manner. 
 
 Alfred Granby had offered his hand and 
 heart to Miss Fitsmorton ; timid and irre- 
 solute in conduct, fearing compulsion from 
 her father, she requested that Granby would 
 for one twelvemonth suspend any applica- 
 
13& THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 tioii to her family, and if at the end of that 
 period he wished for the alliance, she would 
 then become his wife. Alfred submitted, 
 but not till she had assured him, that no 
 man living she could acknowledge a prefer- 
 cd regard. To Emily her conduct appear- 
 ed inexplicable, and she pronounced her 
 friend's determination capricious, and Gran- 
 by^s attachment unfortunate. 
 
 At the expiration of the six months, 
 Edward Fitsmorton and Emily Grosvenor 
 were united. The child brightened be- 
 neath their eye, and Emily often asked her- 
 self whether it were possible she could love 
 one of her own children better than she 
 did her present interesting companion. 
 She had heard Fitsmorton observe, that the 
 child's countenance and actions reminded 
 him of her own mother, but Emily had in 
 vain formerly wished to trace the features 
 of her father, when partiality for him first 
 struggled in her bosom. 
 
 Di\ Leicester had joined their hands ; 
 Mrs. Mason was not forgotten. In their 
 bridal toi^n.Ahey had made her a visir, and 
 her excel. jnt heart was truly gratified at 
 the prospect of the happiness her interest- 
 ing pupil had every reason to anticipate. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. J3l 
 
 CHAP. Mil, 
 
 Sir George Sinclair's visit to liis un- 
 cle proved an untbrtunaie one, in every 
 sense of the word. A few days convinced 
 him Ije was not the welcome guest he had 
 hiiherlo been, and a few weeks confirmed 
 some vague suspicions that his uncle's 
 housekeeper could claim with him a very 
 rear relationship. In .^hort, he found that 
 they were privately married, and the sight 
 ■of a male infant pr'-ciiided all probability 
 of ever reaping the fruits of his hypocriti- 
 cal atteniions. Disgusted and wearied 
 with their monotonous life, he prepared for 
 a very early departure. The remembrance 
 of Emily Grosvenor, the manner in which 
 he had been out-witted, rankled at his 
 heart, nOr did he despair of being amply 
 revenged for the scorn she had evinced for 
 the offer of his hand and heart. He fanci- 
 ed that existence was insupportable with- 
 out the radiant smiles of her beauty ; and 
 his selfish ungenerous passion would glad- 
 ly have reduced the object of his transient 
 adoration to a state of disgrace and wretch- 
 edness. The evening previous to his leav- 
 ing a society so uncongenial to his taste 
 and habits, he was brought to his uncle's 
 house in a senseless and alarming situation ; 
 
132 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 returning from a convivial, but intemperate 
 party, in a state of intoxication, which 
 rendered him unable to manage his horse, 
 th€ spirited animal ran furiously away, and 
 at length suddenly precipitated his unfor- 
 tunate master on a heap ot stones. A con- 
 tusion of his head, and a dislocation of his 
 arm, vi^ere the constquences. The horse 
 galloped home, which alarmed the family. 
 Humanity prompted a strict search for the 
 rider, who was found at some distance from 
 his uncle's house, whither he was carefully 
 conveyed, and a surgeon was immediately 
 sent for, but many months elapsed before 
 he could be pronounced free from, danger. 
 The contusion had affected his intellects, 
 and in this deplorable state he was indebt- 
 ed perhaps for his life, and decisively for 
 every alleviation of pain, to the kind-heart- 
 ed woman he had treated so contemptuous- 
 ly. She influenced his uncle to settle an 
 annuity on him for life, and her whole con- 
 duct evinced, that the exercise of kindness 
 and humanity is not confined to any situ- 
 ation of life, or dependant on the stimula- 
 tive powers of education. 
 
 Mrs. Grosvenor was still in the meridiar 
 of her glory, enjoying her imaginary con 
 sequence, and deluding her companioi 
 with every act and blandishment she s( 
 well knew how to practise ; the feelings o 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. I3j 
 
 nature were so deadened in her bosom, that 
 Emily was only thought of as an insidious 
 usurper of her rights ; and still imagining 
 that the elopement was concerted and vol- 
 untary, she harboured every sentiment of 
 revenge against the man so late the object 
 of her adoration ; and to see them both beg- 
 ging at her feet, would have proved a mo- 
 ment of the highest gratification. 
 
 Emily, amidst her own happiness, re- 
 membered her mother with painful regret, 
 nor could she fail to anticipate, that days 
 of sorrow, and probably of repentance, 
 would succeed to the transient splendour 
 of her present career. The time of Alfred 
 Granby's probation elapserl, a dejection 
 was still visible on iNlary's countenance, 
 but he, who only attributed it to the ti- 
 midity of her nature, thought himself the 
 happiest of men when she consented to be- 
 come his wife, and sought in the bosom of 
 retirement the comforts of a domestic life. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton appear- 
 ed blessed beyond the common lot of mor- 
 tals. The birth of a son augmented their 
 happiness, and Edward's care and attention 
 to Emily, and fondness for the child, knew 
 no bounds. She nursed the infant herself, 
 which, of course, obliged her to give up 
 prO:niscuous engagements, and this she 
 dated as the happiest period of her life,pass- 
 
 VOL. r. 12 
 
134 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ing her days more retired, and her even- 
 ings with esteemed and selected friends, 
 or only tete-a-teie with her husband ; and 
 whilst pressing her own and Edward^s child 
 to her bosom, she acknowledged herself 
 one of the happiest of human beings. 
 
 Mr. Fitsmorton had never entirely re- 
 covered the effects of his last illness, and 
 his health now visibly declined. Sensible 
 of his own danger, yet outrageous if it were 
 hinted at by others, he became offensively 
 impatient, and the cares and attentions of 
 his wife and family were frequently receiv- 
 ed with fretfulness, and always with in- 
 gratitude. He grew viorse, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Granby wero sent for, he was surrounded 
 by his family without their daring to ad- 
 minister those consolations his situation 
 required. The solemnity of a death-bedj 
 must ever appa! the strongest mind. In| 
 the last hours of suii'ering humanity, andj 
 where the senses are sufficiently acute tc| 
 convince the dying how awful is the ex- 
 pectation of eternity ! when the countei 
 nance of an effectionate wife or mothe 
 proclaims the internal struggle for resigns 
 tion to heaven, when medical assistanc 
 appears of no avail, when the eventful sepzl 
 ration of soul and body is nearly accoir 
 plished. How dark and dreary the paj 
 saj^e to the tomb! unless the '"-^un 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 135 
 
 righteousness with healing in its wings," 
 dispels the mists of doubt, and cheers the 
 sutferer with the glorious hope of eternal 
 happiness ! 
 
 * After a few days of extreme agonies, Mr. 
 Fitsmorton died in the arms of his son ! 
 Every possible attention was paid to the 
 wishes of the deceased, and a Jew months 
 restored tranquility and happiness to all. 
 
 Emily's felicity seemed daily to increase 
 the affection of the husband, and the atten- 
 tion of the lover vvere most conspicuous in 
 Fitsmorton's conduct, whilst the native 
 sweetness of her disposition, the polish of 
 her manners, and the cultivation of her 
 mind, anticipated his every wish, and ren- 
 dered home a scene of comfort and variety. 
 The devotion of his time to her society, 
 appeared ever to be the result of his own 
 inclination, and Emily yet secluded herself 
 from places of fashionable resort, on ac- 
 count of her maternal duly to her little 
 boy; and when Fitsmorton felt obliged 
 from concurring circumstances to leave her 
 at the hour of dinner, his early return in 
 the evening vv^s highly gratifying to her 
 affectionate heart. 
 
 He had one day accepted some casual 
 engagement, ?.nd towards evening Emily, 
 as usual, expecting him home with her ac- 
 customed solicitude, her mind naturally 
 
136 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 fell into a train of reflections, resulting 
 from the domestic happiness she so fully 
 enjoyed, and so truly appreciated. His 
 well-known knock at the door aroused her 
 from the pleasing reverie. He entered the 
 room, and threw himself into a chair, with- 
 out even his accustomed enquiries after his 
 children, or one affectionate look to the as- 
 tonished Emily. 
 
 "Are you unwell, my love?" was her 
 first anxious question. 
 
 " Unwell ?" — No, — no, — I . am in the 
 highest health and spirits imaginable." 
 
 " Something, 1 am sure, has disturbed 
 your mind, Edward. Why do you not 
 speak to me as usual ?" 
 
 " And why this strange inquietude, my 
 most discerning love?" then advancing to- 
 wards her, and grasping her hands within 
 his own, he added, " And shall the sweet 
 intelligence of mind, beaming on that love- 
 ly countenance, bind xnefor ever your fond, 
 your willing slave ?" Emily was about to 
 deprecate Fitsmorton's uncommon manner 
 and expressions, when looking anxiously 
 in his face, she discovered that they pro- 
 ceeded from the effects of wine, and in- 
 stantly endeavouring to suppress her cha- 
 grin, she soothed him in the gentlest man- 
 ner, permitted not a single question to es- 
 cape her, only anxious that repose should 
 
• THE FATAL CABINET. 137 
 
 restore him to every proper recollection. 
 He then appeared to have a taint remem- 
 brance of ihe inconsistency of his behav- 
 iour ; and, clasping her to his bosom, he 
 s«id- — . 
 
 " Let us then, dearest Emily, again be 
 friends." With a smile expressive of every 
 virtue which could irradiate beauty, she 
 replied — 
 
 " My dear Edward, were we ever other- 
 wise ? not for one moment since fate has 
 united us, have I ever experienced for thee 
 auiJ:ht but the hallowed sentiments of afFec-* 
 tion !" And then the soothing endearments 
 of the anxious wife prevailing, he retired 
 to rest with tolerable composure. 
 
 Emily ruminated for some little time on 
 the scene which had passed ; but her good 
 sense permitted her not to convert this ac- 
 cidental excess into a growing or serious 
 evil ; and she anticipated the excuses Fits- 
 morton would make, and the chastened ex- 
 pressions of love which would fall from his 
 lips, when reason again resumed its empire 
 in his mind ; then supplicating the Dispos- 
 er of all events tor a continuance of the 
 blessings which surrounded her, she kissed 
 her sleeping children, and peacefully retired 
 to rest. 
 
 The next morninofat breakfast, Fitsmor- 
 ton endeavoured to rally off the subject, aod 
 12* 
 
.J3JJ THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Emily avoiding unnecessary gravity or wise 
 rebukes, promoted the gaity he wished to 
 encourage. The entrance of the children 
 gave a new turn to the discourse ; he fond- 
 ly caressed his boy, and appeared gratifie«l 
 when Emily playfully traced in the infant's 
 countenance his own features and complex- 
 ion. 
 
 " It is extraordinary, my love," she add- 
 ed, " that our sweet Mary bears so little 
 resemblance to you ; how often have 1 wish- 
 ed, even before 1 had any idea that you re- 
 garded me with partiality ; how often have 
 I wished, that your child's eyes, or mouth, 
 or some trait of her countenance, could re- 
 mind me of her father !" 
 
 " Extraordinary ! did you say, Emily ? 
 Nothing is extraordinary in this world !" 
 Then looking earnestly in the child's face, 
 he declared, " it to be most true — too true," 
 and impatiently ordered her to be taken 
 out of the room. 
 
 Thoueh gradual the chan2;e in Fitsmor- 
 ton's temper and spirit*:, Emily thought she 
 eould trace its commencemeut from this 
 period. She saw, with pviin, that intempe- 
 rate conviviality was becoming a refuge for 
 some mental inquietude, the cause of which 
 she vainly endeavoured to discover, but she 
 ever avoided ail com])Iaiiit of his conduct, 
 which miaht have embittered the few do- 
 mestic hours they now passed together.-^ 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 199 
 
 Wliat a chans^e tor the susceptible, the af- 
 1 fectionate heart ot Emily ; and to meet 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton with the smile of peace, 
 to conceal from her every anxious solici- 
 tude on Edward's account, appeared a task 
 the most difficult to perform ! Mrs. Gran- 
 by was settled in a distant part of the coun- 
 j try, and to her she could avoid all unneces- 
 ' sary communications. Tiie two children 
 just at this time unfortunately sickened 
 with the measles, of course Emily devoted 
 her whole attention to them. Fitsmorton 
 evinced the fondest anxiety for his son, and 
 even had watched some hours at the child's 
 bed-side, when the malady appeared with 
 unfavourable symptoms ; but when little 
 Mary a few days afterwards became an 
 equal sufferer, he never entered the nursery 
 |(Or enquired ab(»ut her. All this was enig- 
 matical to Emily; and when the children 
 were perfectly recovered, she with accumu- 
 rmulatino^ anguish perceived that the mid- 
 1 nis^ht revel, and the most dissipated society, 
 were often substituted for the rational con- 
 verse of chosen friends. Surronndt-d with 
 • every apparent blessing-, the vvorld appeared 
 to her a desart. The bosom on which she 
 had heretofore rested with confidence and 
 lalfectioti, was either wrapped in mystery, 
 or fatally estranged from, hers! an«i often 
 idinshe feelsincer^'lv q^ratefnl that no persua- 
 isions had induced her to listen to Fitsmor- 
 
140 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ton's clandestine proposals, for haci she en- 
 tered the family, in her idea, so dishonour- 
 ahly, she thought her present misery would 
 have been insupportable; perhaps (she men- 
 tally apostrophised) " the domestic habits 
 I have lately encouraged are not sufficient- 
 ly blended with variety for the active mind 
 of man ! 1 will no longer indulge my own 
 feelings and taste, in contradiction to Ed- 
 wards wishes." 
 
 Some unbidden tears fell on her cheek ; 
 but, having determined on a ditferent line 
 of conduct, she fervently prayed that the 
 health ot her darling boy might not suffer 
 from a relaxation of her care and attentions. 
 Without appearing to comment on her hus-- 
 band's conduct, she had been a very accu- 
 rate observer, and was convinced that he 
 often sought company abroad, more to ban- 
 ish uneasy tetlections than to gratify a de- 
 praved inclination and taste ; but that his 
 mind should be agitated by any distress, 
 and she not permitted to share it, was an 
 idea that overwhelmed her with the deep- 
 est sorrow and res^ret ; and her utmost pen- 
 etration could not discover w^hy little Ma- 
 ry, now of so interesting an age, was often 
 repulsed by her father, if she attempted 
 those little playful endearments which in- 
 noc^Mice and nature prompted. 
 
 Often had Emily heard her mother spo- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. ui 
 
 , ken of as the most lovely and amiable of 
 \ women. " Is it possible (she sometimes 
 asked herself) that Edward is afraid to ex- 
 press the natural emotions of his heart, 
 Uvhen contemplating this living image of 
 one he had so truly mourned? She hoped 
 he could not attribute to her any narrow 
 I or illiberal sentiments! It had ever been 
 ' her unifonti endeavour to court his atten- 
 tion to the child's infantine sayings and 
 pursuits, which had only increased the ir- 
 ritation of the moment." 
 
 Emily now. invited company, frequented 
 public places, and formed those parties at 
 home which she thought would be most 
 pleasing to her husband. He seemed sur- 
 prised at so sudden a change, and sedu- 
 lously attended her, more, Emily thought, 
 from curiosity, than from any gratification 
 he enjoyed in such, scenes of gaiety. She 
 for some time heroically pursued this plan, 
 but whilst surrounded with all the variety 
 of dissipation which could fascinate the 
 senses, her heart drooped with its contend- 
 ing emotions, and the smile which played 
 upon her countenance was only the deceiv- 
 ing evidence of her apparent happiness. 
 I ? Dr. Leicester being in town, called upon 
 ftmily one morninij, to request that Fits- 
 morton, herself, and her nursery, would 
 vvisit the rectory ; but when she mentioned 
 
3 42 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 the invitation to her husband, he proposed 
 that she and her children should accompa- 
 ny the doctor into the country, but plead-i 
 ed that particular business would not per- 
 mit him to leave home. 
 
 This was the first time he had ever pro- 
 posed even a temporary separation. She 
 replied, " Nothing should induce her to 
 leave town without him ;" " and surely," 
 he returned, " my dear Emily, this deter- 
 mination is a very childish one : your leav- 
 ing London, for a short time, will afford 
 us a little cessation from company, for we 
 seem lately to have lived in a crowd." 
 
 " 1 wish 1 knew what line of conduct 
 would be most pleasing to your taste, Ed- 
 ward. I really thought seclusion from pro- 
 miscuous society was unpleasant to yOu, 
 and happy, as I ever am, in the domestic 
 circle " • 
 
 He interrupted her, saying, " Nonsense, 
 Emily ! variety is pleasing to all, and to 
 shine a bright constellation in the hemis- 
 pliere of fashion, and rival each gay com- 
 petitor of wit and beauty ; in short, to run 
 the full career of iemale vanity, are seduc- 
 tive temptations to the feeble mind of wo- 
 man." 
 
 *'^ I know not what I am to infer from 
 this sort ot language ; if to love you beyond 
 all human beings, if to vary the tenor oi 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 5 43 
 
 my life to give zest and variety to yours, 
 nay, even to neglect my niaternai duties 
 for the higher ones, affection for you sug- 
 gests : — IS to be guilty of vanity and foily, 
 then atn I the triflina; <:haracter vou have 
 endeavoured to describe." 
 
 " 1 doui)t not your merits, Emily, and 
 why should i floubt your lovo for me?" 
 
 " Doubt my love ! merciful heaven ! ei- 
 ther you or I are fatally chunged, to give 
 rise to these heart-breaking altercations! 
 Edward, you are not happy ; long have I 
 forbore to question you on the subject of 
 your uneasiness. — Is it in the power of your 
 once-beloved Emily to lessen your cares by 
 participation ? — Is any retrenchment ne- 
 cessary in our domestic arrangement 1 — I. 
 ask not from whence the cause proceeds ; 
 but blessed with your affectionate confi- 
 ■ dence, the humblest situation in life would 
 have its comforts." 
 
 " I believe you are an angel !" 
 
 " Suppress these violent emotions, dear- 
 est Edward, let me ever prove to you an 
 endearing companion and a sympathizing 
 friend. Oh ! tell me, then, my love, my 
 husband, w^hat is the cause of your late in- 
 quietude of mind ! — I cannot long support 
 the estransrement of vour coniidence: and 
 tell me also, dearest Edward, from whence 
 originates the unaccountable dislike you 
 have of late evinced for " 
 
144 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 *' Emily, I never will be quCvStioned on 
 the subject; but, perhaps, my dislike only 
 exists in your imagination." 
 
 '* 1 wish 1 could believe so ; I wish I 
 could also believe that the hours ol solitude 
 I have lately passed were not too sure an 
 evidence ot your declining regard. — 1 scorn 
 all frivolous complaint, but, indeed, I am 
 wretched beyond expression." 
 
 Fitsmorton paced the room in great per- 
 tubation ; then, gazing on Emily^s agitated 
 countenance, he said, '•'• Surely, thou art 
 an angel !" and, folding her in his arms, she 
 endeavoured to believe that peace Mould 
 again be restored to her bosom. Too deli- 
 cate and considerate to press for a farther 
 explanation of Edward's conduct, she with 
 pain soon discovered that some hidden in- 
 quietude still preyed upon his spirits, and 
 similar conversations never afforded perma- 
 nent satisfaction or relief. How many evils 
 would be averted, were the plain and on- 
 ward path of sincerity preferred to the daik 
 labyrinth of dissimulation ! How few cases 
 authorise the latter! and whether it pro- 
 ceed from the false tenderness of not afflict- 
 ing a beloved object, or from the fear of ex- 
 posing errors, which frequently accumulate 
 by concealment, the idea is equally erro- 
 neous, and generally terminates in th.e en- 
 creasing perplexity and misery of every 
 party. 
 
FATAL CABINET ; 
 
 PROFLIGATE MOTHER. 
 
 TWO VOLUMES IN ONE 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY ISAIAH THOMAS, Jr. 
 
 NO 5 CORNHILl-BqUARE. 
 
 Samuel Avery, printer— 10 State-Stre^l . 
 1810. 
 
THE 
 
 FATAL CABINET ; 
 
 OR THE 
 
 PROFLIGATE MOTHER. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Edward Fitsmorton was becoming 
 the victim of tolly and depravity ; yet he 
 suffered moments of the deepest remorse, 
 and he would then willingly have stopped 
 in his unsatisfactory career, and on the bo- 
 som of Emily breathed his penitence, and 
 sued for pardon. Sometimes he falsely es- 
 timated the mild forbearance of her charac- 
 ter, imagining; that the insensibility of her 
 nature secured her from the pangs of jeal- 
 ousy or inquietude ; but more frequently 
 the gentleness of her conduct, and the smile 
 of good-humour which beamed upon her 
 countenance, convinced him of the cruel 
 injustice and folly of his own conduct. 
 
* THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Here it may be necessary to trace the 
 cause which first estranged his mind from 
 peace. On the morning- of that day when 
 Emily first met an inebriated, instead of a 
 rational companion, Fitsmorton would have 
 confessed himself one of the happiest of 
 men. It happened that, on this day, a 
 beautiful, but long-neglected Cabmet, \vh\ch 
 had belonged to his first wife, caught his 
 attention, by being placed in a closet where 
 he was searching tor papers, jble careless- 
 ly opened the cabinet, and, if he gave 
 a sigh to the memory of its once-lovely 
 owner, it was tlie tribute of nature and of 
 feeling ! Removing it hastih', he unknow- 
 ingly pressed the spring of a private drawer. 
 Who can pourtray his astonishment, when, 
 on opening a small packet, the envelope di- 
 rected to Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton, he dis- 
 covered the miniature of one of h.is most 
 esteeme<l friends, who, as before mentioned, 
 had left England for the East-Indies, some 
 months after Fitsmorton's marriage with 
 Miss Dalrymple, a friend in whom he had 
 reposed unlimited confidence, and to whom 
 he had-been liberal in the extreme on pe- 
 cuniary subjects, and the report of whose 
 death had been the source of deep regret 
 and sorrow. The report, however, had of 
 late been contradicted, and Fitsmorton^s 
 feelings at this moment alive only to jeal- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 14S 
 
 Emily devoted her time and attention in 
 end eavjDU ring- to win her husband back to 
 those scenes of social and domestic happi- 
 ness so congenial to her own taste and in- 
 clination ; he even appeared sensible ot her 
 tenderness and care, and well was she re- 
 quited if by any little innocent device she 
 could enjoy his society, or lead to ihat con- 
 fidence which she so highly appreciated. 
 Sometimes he appeared as if he wished to 
 disclose a painful secret; with tremulous 
 agitation she would await so interesting a 
 moment, and he then relapsing into apathy 
 and indifference, all her air-built hopes of 
 returning peace would quickly vanish, and 
 despondency again become the inmate of 
 her bosom. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton was in the country with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Granby, and Emily dreaded 
 her return, lest she should discover the 
 great chans^e in Edward^s conduct. Emily 
 had seen Sir George Sinclair at the pla(res 
 of public resort which she had of late fre- 
 quented. He appeared apparently recov- 
 ered from the effects of his accident and 
 confinement, but intemperate indulgence at 
 the bottle, or any irritation of mind, some- 
 times brought on that derangement of in- 
 tellect vvhich had nearly proved fatal to his 
 mental faculties. Yet still, the temporary 
 remorse of his feelings, during a tedious 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
iA& ■ The fatal cABmEx. 
 
 illness, was no longer re ipe inhered : a thou- 
 sand vague ideas floated on his iuiagma- 
 tlon, when conlemplaiing Emily's sujjerior 
 loveliness. He knew she was neglected 
 by her husband, and that the dissipated 
 revels of ccmvivial society engrossed his 
 time and ruined his fortune. Sir George 
 Sinclair had therefore figured to himself 
 that Emily was suffering in solitude and 
 despair, and great was his astonishment 
 when he first saw her in public ; more beau- 
 tiful, more fascinating than ever, the smile 
 of peace irradiating her countenance, and 
 which, to a casual observer, appeared to 
 spring from her heart's contentment 
 
 The frigidity with which she regarded 
 him, and the contempt her features express- 
 ed, excited his revengeful and indignant 
 feelings ; and supposing, from her apparent 
 serenity, that she was ignorant of P'itsmor- 
 ton's growing imprudencies, he, with the 
 malice of a demon, and the folly of a mani- 
 ac, sent her an anonymous lerter, setting 
 forth the unmerited injuries she was threat- 
 ened with, from the conduct of her hus- 
 band ; that gamimj was even ruining his 
 fortune; and even hinting at some connec- 
 tions, inimical to the delicacy of the nup- 
 tial bond. In promoting their disunion, 
 Sir George Sinclair was indebteci to one of 
 bis confederates in vice, who belonged to a 
 
THE FATAL CXBINET. ' 147 
 
 club which Fitsmorlon most frequented, 
 and this man, by saiting the teaiptation as 
 ciicumsiaiic-es permit ted, he was led, step 
 by ste|», tioin domestic habits, till the charm 
 ol uuboiiiided dissipation subdued every 
 rational teeling, and every honourable 
 pursuit. 
 
 When Emily received the above-men- 
 tioned letter, she was singing a lullaby to 
 her infant. The natural strength of her 
 mind prevented all useless and violent emo- 
 tions ; she endeavoured to disbelieve the 
 infamous contents; she would elude the 
 malice of her enemies, by consigning it to 
 oblivion, yet the tear of inquietude trem- 
 bled in her eye, and the throb of suspicion 
 agitated her bosom. 
 
 "Edward a gambler! — Edward unfaith- 
 ful ! — xNO, it could, not be! — he may have 
 erred from the weakness of humanity, but 
 Ideliberate vice cannot be cherished by a 
 mind on' e the seat of every virtue ! — Oh ! 
 might she prove his guardian-angel, and 
 ;»ently lead him to the paths of peace ! But 
 conviction, not suspicion, should alone in- 
 duce her to blame and to remonstrate ! for 
 ibad she not vowed her constancy till part- 
 ed by death ! 
 
 j Then, overpowered by the contrariety of 
 liber feelings, tears relieved her over-charged 
 
U« THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 heart. She supplicated the Disposer of al 
 Events, to support her under every trial 
 and derived peace and composure of min( 
 from her sacred appeal to heaven. 
 
 eNS or THE FIRST TOLVItlE. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. s 
 
 lousy and indignation, he gladly would have 
 ■sacrificed this false, this hypocritical friend, 
 )!to the justness of his revenge ; and he form- 
 ed a sort of compact with his frenzied mind, 
 that the moment of their meeting should 
 prove a fatally memorable one. The letter 
 to Mrs. Edward Fiismorton ran as follows : 
 •• 1 snatch one instant, my ever dear love, 
 /while some necessary preparationsare mak- 
 ing, to bid you once more a tender and a 
 long adieu. Let the accompaniment of 
 these hurried lines soaietimes remind you 
 of a man who Lves but in the hope of again 
 pressing you to his throbbing heart ! Why 
 has fate decreed this cruel separation ? Why 
 Idid I not successfully combat your pruden- 
 tial scruples? But 1 must not take a retro- 
 [spective view, or I shall be unnerved, unfit 
 to encounter the long, the djeary gloom 
 ■which darkly threatens the horrizon of my 
 fate. Ever remember, my dearest love, that 
 the sacred union of our hearts is a solemn 
 and impressive contract ! — That it is inde- 
 pendent of every local circumstance; and 
 that time and absense are the criterion of 
 real a^ection. Proudly my heart whispers 
 jf^That though other ties and other duties 
 induce you to command this temporary 
 iseparation, I claim the first, the tenderest 
 place in your's ; anfl that we alike live but 
 in the hope of meeting, pierhaps, to part no 
 
6 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 more ! Time wears ; I must say the dread- 
 ed word — Farewell! Angels guard and blessi 
 you ! " Dorville/^ i 
 
 Fitsmorton, though scarcely crediting th^ 
 evidence of his senses, was soon too fatally 
 convinced of the villainous duplicity of his 
 .friend, and of the culpability of a being his 
 heart had rested on in blissful confidence. 
 A definition of his feelings cannot be at- 
 tempted. The woman he could once have 
 worshipped as an angel — so practised a de- 
 ceiver ! Thatshe could quit the world with 
 such a weight of guilt upon her mind ! That 
 she could, with deep hypocris}^ hang over 
 him on the bed of sickness, and fall at last 
 the victim of her cares ! Merciful Heaven ! 
 what could he think ! How illusive ; how 
 contradictory her character ! The child he 
 had cherished in his bosom as her living 
 
 image! That child ! Madness was in 
 
 the reflections which would occur! And 
 then the frequent and cursory remarks that 
 no resemblance could be traced to his fea- 
 tures, he thoucrht was now fatally account- 
 ed for. — Farewell the bh.ssings of domestic 
 peace, Emily ! with every fair promise of 
 innocence and truth ! Might he n«>t be cher- 
 ishing a viper in his bosom, which would 
 eventually add to the lacerating stinsfs he 
 •ow endured ] He would trust no man ! — 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 7 
 
 ;he would suspect every woman ! Oh that 
 he could instantly realize his hopes of re- 
 venge on the tell destroyer of his peace! 
 sBut he would carefully guard a secret so 
 disgracetul and so heart-breaking. 
 
 ' Nature at length subdued, tears of shame 
 and indignation fell from his eyes. Dis- 
 daining to encourage what he deemed an 
 unmanly weakness, he wildly rushed from 
 I the house, and, recollecting a party with 
 which he had refused to dine, on account 
 of wishing to amuse his beloved Emily, he 
 unexpectedly joined it at the hour of din- 
 ner, and, as it may be remembered, return- 
 ed home in a state of intoxication. The 
 absence of his mind drew on him the com- 
 mon-place remarks of his gay associates. 
 The contents of the letter, the miniature, 
 too evidently bespoke the treachery of his 
 friend, and the frailty of the woman he had 
 confided in ; to think that he had been so 
 long deceived, abused, the easy tool of such 
 depravity, and, whilst the semblance of an 
 angel seemed to ensure to him all the com- 
 forts of domestic happiness, she was carry- 
 ins: on a shameful intercourse with a man 
 whose conduct was equally deceptive, who 
 had claimed the first, the tenderest place 
 in her heart. The child who had been to 
 
 him the solace of his mournful hours. 
 
 Here his emotions appearing uncontroul- 
 
e THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 able, he attempted some awkward apology, 
 for his absence of mind, and inaitentiun to' 
 the company ; and endeavourtd to drown 
 in wine the teelings which oppiessed him. 
 The tree circulation of the bottie afforded 
 a temporary relief; and the artificial spir- 
 its of the hour imposed upon his undiscern- 
 ing companions, and they parted with the 
 conviction of the good effects of social hi- 
 larity ; and that Fitsmorton was becoming 
 the life of every convivial meeting. 
 
 His interview with Emily has already 
 been described, and trom that tatal evening 
 she dated the gradual alterations in her 
 husband's temper and habits of life. 
 
 He had at first frequented the haunts of 
 dissipation to escape, as it were, from 
 . scenes which too powerfully reminded hini 
 of former deceptions. The smiles of Emi- 
 ly w^ere daggers to his heart : she might be 
 weaving a fatal web for his undoing ; for 
 Mar}? Dalrymple was once, apparently', the 
 most innocent and lovely of God's crea- 
 tures. In vain he endeavoured to regard 
 her child with affection ; imagination con- 
 verted suspicions into reality, and his so- 
 liloquies senerally ended with a hope of a 
 just revenge on the author of his unmerited 
 injuries. 
 
 The strict propriety of Emily's conduct, 
 the chastened admiration she excited in 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 9 
 
 all beholders, her decided preference of his 
 comfort and happiness to her own, at times 
 conspired to do her every justice, and by a 
 frank avowal of the conflict he endured, 
 confess every illusive doubt of her recti- 
 tude of conduct, and at once abjure the er- 
 rors of his own. But habit had already 
 stamped a desultory inclination for vice 
 with a dangerous permanency ; and he 
 found it dithcult to return to that domes- 
 tic intercourse, once the charm and solace 
 of his existence. 
 
 When Emily, from motives dictated by 
 angelic purity, changed the tenour of her 
 life to afford him that variety which she 
 imagined his taste required, suspicion of 
 somewhat wrong on her part, agitated his 
 bosom : he determined to watch her nar- 
 rowly, and to scrutinize her every action. 
 
 How would her indignant spirit have dis- 
 dained his illiberal surmises, could she have 
 guessed the cause of his sedulous attention 
 to her conduct. And here, unconsciously, 
 she triumphed. Fitsmorton, in spite of 
 every wayward sentiment, could only view 
 her as the fair transcript of beauty, guarded 
 by chaste decorum and unaffected proprie- 
 ty. But he generally apostrophising, " such 
 once was Mary Dahymple!" it seemed to 
 operate as a powerful spell against the re- 
 turn of a generous confidence. 
 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
30 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Emily had hitherto concealed from Mrs. 
 Fitsmurtoii the neglect she experienced 
 from her husband ; ever aiiempting the 
 most plausible excuses for his absence 
 from home, and partiality for her son, ad- 
 mitted the possibility of his various and 
 unforeseen engagements. Her long visit 
 in the country, at Mr. Gran by 's, had pre- 
 cluded the suspicion that Edward had as- 
 sumed a different character. One evening 
 he was compelled by indisposition to re- 
 main at home. Mrs. Fitsmorton had pass- 
 ed the day with Emily, delighted with the 
 growing improvements of her grandson, and 
 no less charmed with little Mary^s interest- 
 ing prattle. Edward appeared restless and 
 uncomfortable; but this she attributed to 
 the severe cold which oppressed him. In 
 the course of conversation she seriously la- 
 mented that Mrs. Granby's health and 
 spirits were much on the decline. '* It is, 
 (she continued) a delicate subject to men- 
 tion, even at this fire-side, and 1 scarcely 
 know how to hint my fears, that Mary is 
 not so happy as she ought to be. Granby 
 is the most tender and affectic)nate of hus- 
 bands ; it may be that her present situation 
 affects her health, and consequently her 
 spirits suffer from the same cause. 1 have 
 only to wish that the arrival of such ache- 
 rub as this, (pressing the infant Edward to 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 11 
 
 her bosom) may s^ive a new turn to her 
 ideas, and then 1 think it will be difficult 
 to determine which are the happiest pair, 
 my rustic Strephon and his wife, or the 
 more tashionalde, but equally beloved cou- 
 ple, before me," 
 
 Emily could only press the hand which 
 was extended towards her; the vibration of 
 her heart amounted to agony ; tor worlds 
 she could not have met her husband's eye. 
 And busying herself at^ the tea-table, she 
 hoped her emotion would not be observed; 
 a sigh, or rather a stifled groan, from Fits- 
 morton arrested her attention. She trem- 
 ulously asked if he felt in pain. " 1 do, 
 indeed, Emily, (he replied) pain which I 
 believe will not easily be mitigated." He 
 had spoken from the impulse of the mo- 
 ment, and had great ditilculty to combat his 
 mother's anxiety, and entreaties, to send 
 immediately tor medical advice. He soon 
 regained his self-possession ; — promised to 
 comply with her wishes if not better in the 
 morning, and retired early to rest, suffering 
 more from the oppression at his heart than 
 from any serious or alarming indisposition. 
 
 When Mrs. Fitsmorton had bid Emily 
 adieu, sad were her present thoughts, most 
 sad. her future prospects. To what pur- 
 pose should she conceal her unhappiness : 
 dreadful indeed is that grief which cannot 
 
ii THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 be relieved by participation. But how 
 could she wound the bosom of a mother, 
 by exposing the tailings of a son. " Mer- 
 ciful heaven ! (she involuntary exclaimed) 
 support my mind with fortitude to bear this 
 disappointment of my tenderest hopes as I 
 ought to do. Restore the cherished object 
 of my heart to peace, and whatever be the 
 cause of his present uneasiness, oh, be it 
 far removed from the misery of a guilty 
 conscience !'^ 
 
 Fitsmorton, without one natural propen- 
 sity to vice, was becoming its zealous ad- 
 herent. The spirit of gaming, like an over- 
 Avhelming torrent, undermining his present 
 peace, and his future comfort ; and the oc- 
 cupation which he at first inditi'erentiy re- 
 sorted to, as a refuge from bitter reflection, 
 was now become the master-passion of his 
 soul. 
 
 To Alfred Granby he dared not confide 
 the cause which had estranged him from 
 his family : where the mind is sure to re- 
 ceive condemnation, it seldom discloses 
 feelings which have led ^o error, or seeks 
 an unlimited confidence in any human be- 
 
 So inconsistent was his judgment, that! 
 Emily, heart-broken, heroically performing 
 her duties in life, was sometimes secretly 
 arraigned by her infatuated husband, for 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. is 
 
 not feeling' constantly and acutely the neg- 
 lect of her comfort and happiness. 
 
 " She must know what a dissipated life 
 I have lately led ; and if she loved me as in 
 the first months of our marriage, would not 
 her heart be lacerated by disappointment 
 at not being the primary object of my at- 
 tention ! And yet (here he paused, 
 
 struck by the injustice of his own observa- 
 tion.) 
 
 " And yet has she not, with the forbear- 
 ance of an angel, studied my every wish — 
 attentive to my health and peace, and not 
 by the weakness of tears and himentations 
 evinced her own regret and sorrow ? Have 
 I not marked each turn of her expressive 
 countenance, and seen only anxiety written 
 thr-re, when distrust and suspicion would 
 have assailed the mind of any other wo- 
 man ?" 
 
 Thus thought, thus reasoned Edward 
 Fiismorton ; but still he sought not the 
 path of reformation, nor resisted the ruin- 
 ous temptations with which he was sur- 
 rounded. He was already much involved, 
 but had hitherto scrupulously guarded that 
 part of his mother's property which still 
 remained in his hands. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton being one morning at a 
 fa-^hionabie jeweller's, ordering some altera- 
 tion in a family coral, which she intended 
 ■ 2 * 
 
a* THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 to 8:ive to her grandson, she perceived that 
 Edward had just left the shop; curiosity, 
 not suspicion, induced her to inquire into 
 the nature of his business. 
 
 The man shewed her a costly diamond 
 sprig, which was ordered to be sent home 
 immediately. Mrs. Fitsmorton, delighted 
 with her son's kind attention,asked no fur- 
 ther questions, and the next day mention- 
 ed the subject to Emily with all the exul- 
 tation of paternal fondness. Emily turned 
 pale, and falteringly said, " there must be 
 some mistake; she had received no such 
 present :" and bursting into an agony of 
 tears, she found it impossible to avoid an 
 explanation of their cause. 
 
 Surprise, grief, and indignation, assailed 
 the mother's heart ; then, pressing the pas- 
 sive hand of Emily, she said — 
 
 " Well can I appreciate the delicacy of 
 your motives for concealing from me the al- 
 teration of Edward's conduct. Let not des- 
 pair, my dearest creature, enervate the fac- 
 ulties ofyour mind : hithertoyou must have 
 borne up with real fortitude. Emily ! my 
 beloved Emily, speak to me ! All will yet 
 be well : our Edward is not naturally of a 
 depraved disposition ; depend upon it some 
 mystery will soon be unravelled. '^ 
 
 Emily for some time vainly tried to 
 speak ; and had not the sense of suffocation 
 
4 
 THE FATAL CABINET. 15 
 
 been relieved by tears, taial might have 
 proved the struggle other mind. In silent 
 agony she put the anonymous billet into 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton's hands, and soon after 
 said — 
 
 " Chance has afforded you a dreadful 
 corroboration of what is here advanced. 
 Merciful Heaven ! for what am 1 reserved ?" 
 
 " For a return, dear Emily, of every 
 comfort and happiness your virtues merit. 
 Remember, that the more difficult your 
 task, the greater will be your recompense ; 
 and, however liable the helpless state of 
 woman to unmerited injury, gentleness of 
 conduct will often prove its successful an- 
 tidote ; whilst reproaches and impatience 
 only render the evil more serious.^' 
 
 Emily felt the truth of Mrs. Fitsmorton's 
 remarks; but still the contest of indigna- 
 tion and love for her husband nearly over- 
 powered the stability of her mind. 
 
 " She would never reproach him with 
 bitterness ; but she would dispassionately 
 acquaint him that she felt the cruelty of 
 his conduct; that she had long smothered 
 the growing anguish of her heart." And 
 then, aware how delicate was the part she 
 had to perform, she for a moment gave way 
 to the feelings of despair; but, aroused by 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton's affectionate solicitude, 
 she said : " I will, my dearest madam, en- 
 
tt THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 deavour to act as you wish 1 should. I am 
 sure my heart is inclined to lenity; and to 
 bring our wanderer back to peace would 
 prove a glorious triumph : and yet how 
 delicate the trial ! If 1 resent his behaviour 
 too deeply, a cruel separation may be the 
 consequence — and 1 thereby involve him 
 in the depths of vice. 11 1 regard his infi- 
 delity lightly, and stifle every indignant 
 feeling, how reprehensible and indelicate 
 were my conduct !" 
 
 It were vain to recapitulate every heart- 
 breaking conference which passed On this 
 painful suhject. But when Mrs. Filsmor- 
 ton next met her son, she overwhelmed 
 him not with deserved reproaches. She 
 simply said : 
 
 " Chance has aflforded me some know- 
 ledge of your estrangement from your wife 
 and family. My son, bring n<jt the ' grey 
 hairs of your mother with sorrow to the 
 grave.' Reduce not Emily and your chil- 
 dren to beggary ! Fall not beneath the con- 
 tempt of those you once so ibndly loved, by 
 sutferino: vour reason to be enslaved bv 
 habit, and the best affections of your heart 
 to be sacrificed to folly and dissipation." 
 
 This was indeed a moment of agony to 
 Fitsmorton : fortune had been fatally nn- 
 propitious. He had staked his all, exre|)t- 
 ing" the family estate ; and eveii his mo- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 17 
 
 ther's property had been nearly sacrificed 
 to his rashness. Her sudden appeal elec- 
 trified his feelings ; contusion and remorse 
 were visible in his countenance. (She 
 continued.) 
 
 " I am at this moment incapable of rea- 
 soning" with you as 1 wish ; but be assured 
 that every pecuniary assistance in my pow- 
 er shall be your's. Would that my purse 
 were as capacious as my heart !" Then 
 waving her hand, as if to prevent any far- 
 ther conversation, she left him abruptly, 
 and left him a prey to all the agony of a sus- 
 ceptible, but guilty mind. Alas! she knew 
 not, when she talked of pecuniary assist- 
 ance, how, like a drop of water in the bo- 
 som of the ocean, was the relief she could 
 offer ! The diamonds lavished on vice and 
 depravity ; his neglect of her darling Emi- 
 ly, appeared more afflictive to her, in their 
 conseq uences, than any other consideration, 
 because she was happily ignorant of the 
 extent of his losses, and of the dreadful in- 
 fatuation which gaming imposes on the hu- 
 man mind. 
 
 Had Fitsmorton seen Emily whilst the 
 feelings of remorse were alive in his bosom, 
 Jie probably might have been affected by 
 the tender expostulations of the woman he 
 was so unjustly neglecting; but, unfortu- 
 nately meeting with some associates of his 
 
J8 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 gayest hours, he accompanied them to the 
 usual resort of conviviality ; and, when he 
 returned home, he overpowered Emily's 
 resolution of expostulatin,^ with him, bv 
 ironically thanking her for having complain- 
 ed to his mother ; and,-h(^aled with wine 
 and smarting under the losses of the even j 
 ing, they seemed, by altercation, only t( 
 widen the breach betwixt them and happi 
 ness ; and Emily spent the night in vainl 
 adopting and rejecting plans for stemmin 
 the torrent of affliction, which threatene 
 to overwhelm her in its rapid and alarmin 
 course. 
 
 ex( 
 
 I liin 
 
 ,3 
 
 'Ge., 
 icirc 
 
 that 
 dillii 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 19 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 1, 
 
 i Time passed wearily on, and Emily 
 ^lCOuld only participate with Mrs. I'ltsmor- 
 iiiton in the affliction which consumed thtin. 
 i, Miss Travels was ttieir hequent visitor, 
 land had introduced Mr. Macartny, the 
 (gentleman to whom she wds engaged; and 
 lidnll ot comprelieiision must have iJten their 
 [) minds, couid they not have traced on Emi- 
 ily's countenance the sad effects cn sorrow 
 ^. and anxiety. Aiul, whilst Miss Travers 
 I execrated the conduct ot Fitsmorton, she 
 endeavoured, through Mr. xViacartny's ex- 
 ertions, to trace its source, and ameliorate 
 its dreadful etFects. He was alike interest- 
 ed on the subject, and had, more than once, 
 hinted his dislike of Mr. Franks, who was 
 a constant visitor at Fitsmorton's house; 
 but, as he knew him to be the friend of Sir 
 George Sinclair, iSlacartny, from various 
 circumstances, dreaded their united machi- 
 nations. Mr. Franks' person was fine, his 
 manner insinuating, and his attentions to 
 the unsuspecting Emily were veiled under 
 that delicacy and liberality of sentiment so 
 diihcult to be distinguished from the real 
 benevolence of a feeling heart. He always 
 mentioned her husband with tenderness and 
 esteem; and, whilst he, by every indirect 
 
so THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 method, was plunging him into the depths 
 ot vice, he talked ot" disinterested friend- 
 ship, as the grand sweetener ot human ex- 
 isu nee. 
 
 He spoke to her ot Sir George Sinclair 
 in me s«.iiest tones of compassion, even 
 hiiiiing (hat disappointment, more than the 
 uniortanate accident he had met with, con- 
 tribiiied to encrease that occasional de- 
 raiiL-emeni of intellect he was subject to. 
 Emily had too much good sense to listen 
 with patience when this subject was in- 
 truded. Of her husband only could JNlr. 
 Franks speak, to induce her to attend to 
 his conversation. Her whole mind was 
 absorbed on one distressing subject ; and, 
 though she endeavoured to doubt the truth 
 of the anonymous letter, the diamond sprig, 
 Fitsmorton's occasional distress for money, 
 and his cruel neglect of her, all contributed 
 to make her anticipate the atflictions which 
 might occur. Emily frequently heard from 
 her excellent friends at the rectory. Dr. 
 Leicester, being in town, called upon her 
 one morning, and addressed her with unu- 
 sual exhilaration of spirits ; but, receding a 
 few paces, he appeared struck with the des- 
 pondency of her countenance. 
 
 " How is this, my dearest lady ?" He 
 continuerl, " Mr. Fitsmorlon ; your chil- 
 dren ; all well, I hopeT* 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 31 
 
 She looked mournfully at him, but ac- 
 knowledged they were in good health. 
 
 " I am, however, the messenger of good 
 news," he continued ; '^ the lottery-ticket 
 which was divided between you and Mrs. 
 Leicester is come up a prize of ten thou- 
 sand pounds, principal money ! 1 have sa- 
 ved you all unnecessary trouble, and now- 
 lay Fortune's favours at your feet. I think 
 I can guess the destination of this treas- 
 ure. All good wives delight in making 
 presents to their husbands ; and 1 already 
 anticipate the expression of my dear v/o- 
 man's features, when she returns the notes 
 into my hands." 
 
 Emily replied, " Can money purchase 
 happiness ?" 
 
 *' Assuredly not ; but often proves its 
 great auxiliary: and any ur.iooked-for ad- 
 dition to fortune enlarges the sphere of be- 
 nevolence ; and the temporary sufferer, or 
 the more serious victim of poverty, may 
 feel the good effects of our unexpectedly 
 encreased fund of charity. 
 
 *' Hey day ! my dear lady ! my dear Emi- 
 ly ! Why these tears! Something afflicts 
 you very deeply! Look upon me still as 
 your father ; and, if it be in my power to 
 alleviate any distress, confide in the sincer- 
 ity of my friendship ! If the cloud is only 
 
 VOL. II, 3 
 
22 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 transient, interference may prove imperti- 
 nent, or, at least, unnecessary." 
 
 " My excellent friend ! What can I an- 
 swer you? I am afraid my sorrow is irreme- 
 diable !" 
 
 " Say not so, my dear child ! but come, 
 I will give you time to consider whether, 
 as a father, 1 may claim your confidence. 
 1 intended to tax your hospitality, and to 
 request a night's lodging, my business not 
 permitting me to leave town till to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " Most willingly, my dear sir, do I re- 
 ceive so welcome a guest ; but you you 
 
 will probably dine ttte-a-Ute with me." 
 
 Soon alter Dr. Leicester parted with her 
 till the hour of dinner. She received a has- 
 ty note from Fitsmorton, saying, he was 
 obliged to leave town for some days. Ac- 
 customed now^ to these sort of absences, she 
 resolved to adopt some expedient for a 
 proper explanation on his part, and on hers 
 a full confession of the wretched state of 
 anxiety she lived in. 
 
 " And is it come to this, (she involunta- 
 rily exclaime(t) he who was once the dear 
 partner of my heart, who seemed to live but 
 jn mv presence, whose apparent attachment 
 bid defiance to all obstacles to our union ; 
 that he should thus have become weaned 
 "(jren ; ail wcu,-^ of his family ; — surely, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. a^ 
 
 surely, the pain of unrequited affection is 
 as great affliction as a woman can feel ! — ■ 
 The time was, when such a note as this 
 from Fitsmorton would have broken my 
 heart : the time was, when the absence of 
 a day was a source of regret to both.'' 
 
 And in spfte of every attempt to gain pa- 
 tience and fortitude, the probable destina- 
 tion of the diamond sprig swelled her heart 
 with agony. 
 
 Emily generally gjve orders to be denied 
 to company when Edward was absent; but 
 cither forgetting her usual restriction, or by 
 some casual mistake — whilst she sat ex- 
 pecting the return of Dr. Leicester, Mr. 
 Franks was announced. She certainly re- 
 garded him in a favourable point of view, 
 for she could not read his heart. He now 
 well knevv that there was but one step be- 
 tween Fitsmorton and inevitable ruin. He 
 knew that he was gone with a party to 
 Fitsmorton Park, and probably for the last 
 -time; as he had every reason to believe the 
 estate would soon of necessity be sacrificed, 
 to discharge some honourably contracted 
 del)ts. Mr. Franks, therefore, in this visit, 
 affected a great dejection of spirits, per- 
 mitting the constantly suppressed sigh, and 
 embarrassed manner, to excite her atten- 
 tion, in hopes to convince her of his heart- 
 felt sympathy. He once softly ejaculated, 
 
§4 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 " my poor infatuated friend ;" and before 
 she iiati the power to demand an explana- 
 tion of the words, lie had tenderly seized 
 her hand, and bowing upon it, as if to con- 
 ceal his own emotions, he incoherently la- 
 mented that innocence like hers should be 
 so- deceived, so deeply injured : he then 
 immediately left the room, for knowing 
 that Emily expected Dr. Leicester to dine 
 and to sleep at the house, he felt little in- 
 clination to meet a character so opposite 
 to his own. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven I (Emily exclaimed, 
 when Franks had so suddenly departed,) 
 am 1 then become an object of commisera- 
 tion to all the world ] How would this man, 
 the friend of my husband, dare to speak 
 thus to me, were he not well convinced of 
 the cruel neglect 1 have experienced ? He 
 surely has ever proved himself Fitsmorlon's 
 friend ; and the warmth of his feelings has 
 perhaps betrayed him into this momentary 
 agitation on my account ; but had my life, 
 my peace depended on it, I think I could 
 not have questioned him on the subject." 
 
 Dr. Leicester interrupted this mournful 
 soliloquy, and Emily^s mind, softened, and 
 indeed struggling with grief, could not re- 
 sist the friendly and delicate enquiries of 
 her venerable guest. She confidentially nar- 
 rated every thing which had occurred, and 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. M 
 
 requested his advice how to act under such 
 severe disappointments. 
 
 *' My dear child, (replied Dr. Leicester,) 
 put your trust in God, for he defendeth the 
 cause of the oppressed; ail human means 
 are, however, to be pursued to counteract 
 evil. Infatuated as our poor friend now is, 
 the time will come when he will appreciate 
 your worth. Desperation and violence gen- 
 erally detieat their own purpose ; let no in- 
 judicious reproaches fall from your lips, 
 you have a ditficult task to. perform ; but 
 Fitsmorton is of a noble nature. 
 
 " One false step has, in all probability, 
 led to those paths of temptation, more fre- 
 quently declaimed auainst than resisted by 
 erring- humanity. Dear lady, we will, if 
 possible, save him from farther ruin." 
 
 " Were J the only sufferer, I could bet- 
 ter support myself under these heart-break- 
 ing trials, but my children, my husband's 
 dear and respectable mother. When 1 con- 
 sider that one evening's folly may involve 
 us all in irremediable ruin, my mind sinks 
 with despair at so evident a prospect of 
 the misery which may await us. 
 
 " How I did love him, heaven and my 
 own heart can onlv know." 
 
 " A'ld depenrl Ui)on it, my dear creature, 
 that he still loves you ; evil propensi- 
 ties cannot have takf'n so deep a root in his 
 3* 
 
2& THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 heart, as to have eradicated every feeling of 
 nature. Your contession of his apparently 
 returningconfidenee, the struggles his mind, 
 you acknowledge, has experienced ; all pro- 
 claim it alive to the still, but powerful voice 
 of conscience." 
 
 " VYhence, my dear friend, can originate 
 his dislike to our poor little girl ?'^ 
 
 " That, I confess, surprises me ; nay, 
 baffles my penetration to unravel at pre- 
 sent. You, my dear, must calmly, and dis- 
 passionately, talk to him.^^ 
 
 " it is more difficult to accomplish than 
 you can imagine." 
 
 " Then write to him ; let vour heart 
 speak, and who can he deaf to its dictates ? 
 My dear lady, all will yet be well." 
 
 " My dear Sir, you would willingly give 
 peace to the mourner's heart ; but you shall 
 see my yet remaining treasures. And 
 whilst they are spared to me, I have some 
 consolation left." 
 
 Emily then rang the bell for the chil- 
 dren, and exerted her spirits to the utmost. 
 In the evening Mrs? Fitsmorlon, Mr. Ma- 
 cartny, and Miss Travers, passed some 
 hours with her and Dr. Leicester, each 
 endravouring to converse with serenity, 
 though each ruminating on the dreaded 
 future. 
 
 Fitsmorton, as an act of desperation, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 27 
 
 visited his paternal dwelling. Had he been 
 alone, reflection might have proved saluta- 
 ry to his distracted mind ; but reflection in 
 the society which accompanied him, was 
 not the order of the day. Still, in some 
 moments of occasional solitude, the deep 
 regrets of erring humanity stole into his 
 asritated bosom. 
 
 " How often, (said he,) have I antici- 
 pated the fond deiight of seeing my Emily 
 the mistress of this charming place. Now 
 my undone and ruined Emily! How shall 
 I bear thy just reproaches! And shouldst 
 thou not be the angel thou appearest, bit- 
 ter indeed will prove the hour of retribu- 
 tion ; for my neglect can alone have led 
 thy mind to error. My poor boy ! he may 
 live to curse the memory of his father." 
 Then, nearly frantic from a paroxysm of 
 • despair, unavailing remorse, not genuine re- 
 . pentance, led him to drown his feelings in 
 the intemperate circle of conviviality ; and 
 whilst the sparkling goblet gave point to 
 wit, and the graceful periods of eloquence 
 flowed from his tonsfue, the suflxirings of 
 Emily, the ruin of himself, and the future 
 beggary of his child, were alike disregarded 
 and forgotten. On his return to London, 
 two letters of very difl^erent import were 
 given to him. One ran thus : 
 
38 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 " Look at home, it is a wise father who 
 knows his own children. 
 
 " Anonymous." 
 • 
 The other letter was from Emily : 
 *' In vain have I courted your attention, 
 my dearest Edward, to listen to the dic- 
 tates of a heart bending under the weight 
 of disappointment and sorrow. Long have 
 I been obliged to bear in silence your cruel 
 neglect, and total estrangement from those 
 domestic comforts and habits which once 
 formed the chief blessing of your existence : 
 but I will not dwell upon my own sutJ'er- 
 ings ; you know my heart, and if yours be 
 not dead to humanity and feeling — oh, you 
 must well know the severity of those pangs 
 which arise from tht^ indifference of a be- 
 loved object ! That 1 have loved you with 
 all the tenderness and delicacy of affection, 
 with all the enthusiasm of passion, my poor 
 lacerated bosom scruples not to acknow- 
 led'^e. My dependence, next to the Al- 
 mighty, rested on you ; my very existence 
 seemed to depend on your approving smile ; 
 r.nd the world^s boasted variety 1 could 
 gladly have shut out for the 'dessing of your 
 loved society. We were happy beyond the 
 common lot of mortals ; and 1 now ask, 
 vv^ith the trembling agitation of a disappoint- 
 ed heart, what has caused the sad tatal al- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 29 
 
 teration I experience ? I ask whether pecu- 
 niary distresses disturb your miiid ? Whe- 
 ther we are even threatened with the near 
 !; approach of poverty? Recollect we were 
 not g-iven to one another merely to bask in 
 ithe sunshine of a summer's day. 1 have 
 resolution to weather any storm of adver- 
 sity, if supported by the object of my best 
 laifections. Believe me, my husband, I 
 would sooner share your fate in a prison, 
 I than shine in the gaudy trappings of unsub- 
 stantial ambition. I must speak still plain- 
 ler; I must ask you why you have so long 
 ^shunned those domestic habits, once so 
 icongenial to your mind? I have taken my 
 (Own conduct severely to task, and some 
 itime ago I fancied that the monotony of 
 our life at home caused you to seek varie- 
 !ty abroad. I tber/ fore assumed a gaiety I 
 cjould not feel, and, for your sake, courted 
 dissipation. You may remember how soon 
 ^you lired of the promiscuous throng we 
 were obliged to encounter : and how vain, 
 have been my endeavours to regain your 
 confidence. Dear Edward, I ask why such 
 sthings are? Why the being who onca 
 iseemed so dear to you, is now become an 
 object of indifference? Tell me the truth, 
 and lean bear all things. — Oh, tell me the 
 dreadful truths. Has another estranged 
 \your affections from me ? No illiberal jeal- 
 
30 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ousy dictates the heart-breaking question : 
 I have good reasons for urging it with so- 
 lemnity. By chance alone 1 know that a 
 diamond sprig was purchased by you ; but 
 "Whom to adorn 1 know not, nor do I wish 
 to be iuibrined. Now, Edward ! how shall 
 I express myself in terms sufficiently deli- 
 cate? How make you comprehend ihesoul- 
 harrowing emotions with which 1 am agi- 
 tated ? It foJiy has led you astray, abjure 
 your ^irorjand return to happiness and love. 
 But if error is voluntarily continued, if the 
 best affections of the heart are bartered for 
 the delusions of vice, and the marriage vow 
 is violated with impunity, then, Edward, 
 though the struggle costs me my life, we 
 part, and perhaps we part for ever ! Tell 
 me you have erred, but tell me you will err 
 no more, and I will receive your returning 
 love and confidence, as the grand restorer 
 of jny long-lost happiness. 
 
 " Yet another question, (it is long since 
 I have held so much intercourse w-ith you.) 
 Why is our little girl neglected by her fa- 
 ther ? Were you to say, ' dear Emily, I 
 must love this child for the sake of the be- 
 ing who gave her birth ;' such feeling on 
 your part would be but natural ; and on 
 mine such a generous confidence would be 
 highly gratifying. So lovely, so interesting 
 a child ! believe me when I say, she di- 
 
 I 
 
THE FATAL CABINET, si 
 
 vides my heart with our charming infant. 
 In a 'word, whatever be the cause oi your 
 estrangenK nt, confide wholly in me. My 
 heart never ceases to pray to the Almighty 
 to arm you with resolution to resist every 
 ruinous temptation, and 1 entreat you by 
 all your hopes oi happiness, both here and 
 hereafter, to turn from ihe path of certain 
 destruction. Too well you must know to 
 what infatuation I allude ; think of your 
 dear and respectable mother, of your infant 
 son, and of your once-beloved Emily; and 
 let the ties of duty and affection supersede 
 every other consideration. You will per- 
 haps wonder how 1 am so well informed of 
 your proceedings. J aim at no mystery ; 
 let us seek one hour of confidence; calum- 
 ny shall then he confuted, or indiscretion 
 rememberefl no more? A twelvemonth past, 
 had I been Uiid that 1 must have sought 
 this method to arrest your attention, dear 
 Edward, could I have believed it ] lor there 
 was a time, when even a sigh from my bo- 
 »om gave pain to yours. And now I may 
 :onsume my life in sisjlis and tears, and re- 
 ceive neither sympathy nor indulgence. 
 Ai^ain I entreat you to be candid, to be 
 lincere, and to return to the alfectionate 
 i>osom of your once-beloved 
 
 " Emily." 
 
32 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Fitsmorton, wholly taken up with the 
 perusal of Emily's letter, had in abseuce of 
 mind, put the other into his pocket without 
 reading it. Conviction of his own follies, 
 and of his wife's superiority, dyed his cheek 
 with the blusii of shame. 
 
 '^ What am I about I What injustice am 
 I guilty of towards this dear, this inesti- . 
 mable woman ? but alas ! she yet knows 
 not of half my follies. 1 have been throw- 
 ing away an invaluable jewel ; hurrying by 
 fast steps to the verge of ruin, because a 
 villain in the form of a friend, deceived my 
 unsuspecting mind ; because the being on 
 whose fidelity and honour I firmly rested, 
 laughed at ray credulity ; but is virtue then 
 extirpated f;om the world, since 1 have in- 
 dividually suffered from hypocrisy and 
 vice ? Idiot ! madam ! that 1 have been ! 
 But that I dread the proud superiority of 
 my Emily's mind ; I would throw myself 
 on her mercy, and with tears of penitence 
 confess the infatuation which has undone 
 me." 
 
 But soon aroused by the bitterness of 
 reflection, he traversed the room in all the 
 agitation of despair; he had desperately 
 involved his affairs, he was bound in hon- 
 our to pay large sums of money, Vv^hich on- 
 ly the sale of the family estate could an- 
 swer : five thousand pounds in his hands, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 35 
 
 part of his mother's property, was the only 
 wreck of fortune left : at length, curses on 
 the villain whose deceptive conduct had 
 thus unsettled his principles, burst from 
 his quivering lips, and he imprecated ven- 
 geance on the destroyer's head, should fate 
 ever bestow the power of punishment. . 
 ' He would conceal from Emily — from 
 the whole world — the disgrace which rank- 
 led at his heart : but he would confess to 
 her the infatuation which had misled him, 
 and explain every circumstance relative to 
 the diamond sprig — a momentary satisfac- 
 tioii pervading- his mind that he could do 
 so with honour (comparatively speaking) 
 to himself. Then again 'dreading the su- 
 periority of Emily, and as soon anticipating 
 i the svi'eet indulgence of her mind, and the 
 ; heart-felt joy with which she would vvel- 
 , come his returning confidence, he immedi- 
 ] ately sought her in her dressing-room. She 
 did not know he was returned to town, 
 ~;and had just left home with the nurses and 
 r the children, to try the effect of air and ex- 
 jercise upon her health and spirits. Fits- 
 jmorton supposing she might he in the nur- 
 sery, ascended the stairs in breathless ex- 
 pectation : the room was empty. He soon 
 learned from the servants by whom their 
 mistress was accompanied in her airing; 
 'and having some unpleasant business to 
 VOL. ri. 4 
 
34 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 transact, on the subject of money, he left 
 the house, determining to surprise Emily 
 with his company at the hour of dinner. 
 His mind had nearly recovered its usual 
 tone : he walked along in silent rumina- 
 tion, when the letter which he put into 
 his pocket unopened, arrested his attention. 
 After havingreadthecontents — " Pshaw! — 
 (he mentally ejaculated) — nothing now can 
 shake my resolutions !" He read it again. 
 *' Some one certainly knows how 1 am situ- 
 ated ; or this is a very strange coincidence 
 of circumstances.^' 
 
 In spite of reason, he felt discomposed 
 and irritated ; and, at that moment, he was 
 accosted by his supposed friend, and con- 
 stant companion, Mr, Franks. After the 
 usual salutations of the day, he said — 
 
 " You seem absent and uneasy, my 
 good friend. I hope you found Mrs. Fits- 
 morton and all well at home during your 
 absence. For, to the heart of sensibility 
 
 " D n sensibility !" Fitsmorton ex- 
 claimed. " Forgive me, Franks ; 1 have 
 just met wilh a triflmg disappointment ; 
 but 'tis over now ? Any thing new to- 
 day V 
 
 " No," replied Franks ; " but, indeed, 
 excepting calling once at your house, I 
 have hardly been from home since you left 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 35 
 
 town ; a most tremendous cold has confined 
 me." 
 
 " Then you know as much of my family 
 as [ do myself. I am just arrived in Lon- 
 don ; and 1 have not yet seen Mrs. l^'its- 
 morton." 
 
 " 1 never saw her look better in my life, 
 very gay, too ! 1 can tell you, in your ab- 
 sence.'* 
 
 " Very gay !" (with an incredulous 
 smile.) 
 
 " The day I called at your house, she 
 really seemed in charming spirits, and ex- 
 pected a gentleman to dine and sleep there, 
 but good morning, my dear fellow : I have, 
 at this moment, a very particular engage- 
 ment on my hands ; and 1 am already be- 
 yond the appointed time. You will meet 
 our usual party to-day." 
 
 Then, without waiting for Fitsmorton's 
 answer, he left him precipitately, and was 
 out of sight in a moment. 
 
 Fitsmorton, the sport of momentary 
 feeling, walked on, till within sight of the 
 house where the usual party assembled to 
 dine ; and having some letters to write con* 
 cerning the before-mentioned business, he 
 determined to enter the house, and to de- 
 fer his meeting with Emily until the even- 
 ing, and hoped something would lead- to 
 an explanation of Mr. Franks' apparently 
 unguarded speech. 
 
3t> THE TATAL CABINET. 
 
 That a gentleman should dine itie-a-Ule 
 with Emily, and sleep at thejiouse during 
 his absence — was a circumstance which, 
 in the present irritable state of his mind, 
 gave him more inquietude than he chose 
 to acknowledge. 
 
 The letters he was obliged to write were 
 to promise a prompt payment of some gamb- 
 ling debts. Tradespeople were becoming 
 importunate creditors; and, to afford a 
 temporary oblivion of despair, he yielded 
 to the fascination of unbounded conviviali- 
 ty ; and flushed with wine, in all the exhi- 
 laration of artificial spirits, he invoked the 
 delusive smiles of fortune, and returned 
 home in the evening, ruined beyond re- 
 demption, and met the anxious and sus- 
 ceptible Emily — in a situation little calcu- 
 lated to soothe her mind, or to quiet her 
 apprehensions. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 37 
 
 , CHAP. 111. 
 
 Short-lived are generally the friend- 
 ships of the unprincipled and the wicked ! 
 Sir George Sinclair had confided to Mr. 
 Franks his passion for Emily, and the im- 
 possibihty of beirig again publicly intro- 
 duced to her society. 
 
 Franks undertook to describe to her Sir 
 George's penitence for past offences, and 
 to express his hopes of pardon. 
 
 Not to be too prolix on the iniquitous 
 plots they wished to form — an inconvenient 
 debt of Mr. Franks' was to be cancelled, 
 whenever Emily consented personally to 
 receive the Baronet's excuses, — Franks 
 knew it never could be accomplished ; but, 
 an adept in deception, he fabricated plans 
 as existing circumstances permitted, and 
 became in love (if th^ expression may be 
 so profaned) with Mrs. Fitsmorton himselL 
 Hence that softness of manner and insinu- 
 ating con<Uict which had so forcibly struck 
 
 Mr. M icartny and Miss Travers. Sir 
 
 Ge.)rG;e Sinclair and Mr. Franks, just about 
 this period, materiaJly differed on the set- 
 tlinsf of sonif m'>ney matters. The former 
 being -subject to fits of violent passion, (par- 
 ticularly after a free circulation of the bot- 
 tle,) almost amountin'^' to mental derange- 
 4 * 
 
Sd THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ment, frequently uttered the most offen- 
 sive and abusive language, which his con- 
 venient friend had long borne in silence, 
 and with well-dissembled patience. But 
 a very serious breach now occurred — and 
 they parted with mutual threats, and mu- 
 tual disgust. Franks determined to take 
 an early opportunity of discovering to Emi- 
 ly Sir George Sinclair's nefarious views and 
 intentions, to warn her of his future machi- 
 nations, of the derangement of intellect he 
 was subject to — to profess himself her 
 friend, and, perhaps, insidiously to talk of 
 love under the mask of friendship. He 
 knew she was neglected by her husband ; 
 he knew that Fitsmorton's mind was in a 
 distracted state, and, by infusing therein 
 some w^ell-timed suspicions of Emily's vs^ant 
 of prudence, he hoped to encrease their 
 mutual unhappiness. 
 
 When Emily returned from the airing 
 with her children, she felt disappointed and 
 mortified to have been from home, when 
 Fiismorton had so evidently wished to 
 mi^ct with her : but she was soon aroused 
 from unpleasant reflections, by the servamt 
 informing her that a young woman earnest- 
 ly requested admittance. Little inclined 
 to see a strancjer, she desired to know the 
 business. The servant said, to Mrs. Fits- 
 morton only would she disclose it. Emi- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 99 
 
 ly, imagining it might be some pensioner 
 of Mrs. Fitsmorton's, ordered the young 
 
 woman to be admitted. She curtsied— 
 
 in silence and confusion ; but, seeming to 
 derive courage from Emily^s conciliating 
 manner, attempted an explanation of her 
 intrusion. 
 
 Emily felt alarmed; a thousand vague 
 ideas floated on her mind, but endeavour- 
 ing to suppress her own emotions, she said, 
 
 " Sit down, young woman, take time to 
 recover yourself; probably it was with 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton you wished to converse." 
 
 " No, madim, my business only con- 
 cerns Mrs. Edv\ard Fitsmorton." The pal- 
 pitation of Emily's heart was almost un- 
 controulable. She examined the young 
 woman's countenance, it seemed to express 
 both resentment and shame. 
 
 " Speak then immediately the purport of 
 your visit," (Emily at length articulated.) 
 
 " I come, madam, to warn you of your 
 danger, and " 
 
 " Be quick in your communications : 
 from whence came you ? and what danger 
 can you have the power to warn me of?" 
 
 " I live, madam, in Mr. Franks' family; 
 his aunt, with whom he occasionally re- 
 sides, engaged me, some time ago, as a sort 
 of upper servant. Sir George Sinclair was 
 very often at the house ; and but the other 
 
4i» THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 day, (indeed it was quite by chance,) I be- 
 ing at work in a sitting-room which leads 
 to another apartment, only separated by 
 folding-doors, 1 heard Sir George Sinclair 
 and Mr. Franks enter the room. At first 
 they spoke very low ; but soon, apparently 
 forgetting this caution, the doors being on- 
 ly slightly put to, 1 heard, very distinctly, 
 Mr. Franks declare that he would do all 
 
 he could to to to put you in the 
 
 power of Sir George Sinclair — that you had 
 already expressed great pity for him — and 
 that he had little doubt, from the neglect 
 you experienced from your husband, that 
 you would pardon every past offence. — 
 They then spoke very low again. I judged 
 from the few \vords 1 could hear, that their 
 entire reconciliation was to be the conse- 
 quence of your good understanding with 
 Sir George Sinclair ; and, after haviny talk- 
 ed a <J:reat deal upon the subject, Mr. Franks 
 said — oh madam, he is such a deceiver ! — 
 ' that you were an angeP — and — and — J — 
 thouo-ht it my duty io — to tell you what I 
 had heard," 
 
 " This is a very extraordinary story," 
 Emily replied. " Be quite correct, my 
 good ^irl, in what you advance : and let 
 me ask you what induced your visit heie 1 
 Was it merely in justice and compassion 
 towards me ? Or did you feel any personal 
 resentment on the subject I" 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 4i 
 
 The young- woman turned pale — she 
 seemed ready to faint ; and Emily, on open- 
 mg; her cloak, fancied she peiceived a pe- 
 culiarity in her shape not quite consistent 
 with the innocence she had intended to 
 manifest. 
 
 "1 have indeed told you the truth, ma- 
 dam," was her reply. 
 
 *' Be candid and sincere, and I may prove 
 your friend. Will you promise to answer 
 me one ^lestion truly, and without eva- 
 sion ?" 
 
 " Such a lady as you are cannot ask any 
 improper question. I may venture to say 
 I will answer, without hesitation." 
 
 " Then tell me ; and tell me truly — are 
 vou a married woman ?" 
 
 A momentary suffusion of crimson dyed 
 the poor girl's cheek ; but, struggling to 
 •suppress such an evidence of feeling, she 
 replied : — 
 
 " This is a strange and a most unexpect- 
 ed question, indeed ! nor can I imagine why 
 lyou ask it. [She again coloured, as if in 
 resentment and indignation.] 1 thought 
 [to do you a service, madam, by coming 
 here — and what do I get in return ? In- 
 deed I cannot guess \'our meaning." 
 
 " Your own conscience, young woman, 
 can best comprehend my meaning." 
 
 " You need not be angry, madam ; I 
 
42 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 have said nothing I am ashamed of, I have 
 done my duty, and exposed Sir George and 
 Mr. Franks. You know you are at liberty 
 to make what use you please of my well- 
 intentioned visit. So 1 wish you a good 
 morning, madam." 
 
 Emily arose, and, taking the young wo- 
 man's hand, thus spoke to her : — 
 
 " I certainly have little right to detain 
 you, if yon wish to go immediately ; but be 
 seated again, nnd hear what 1 have to say to 
 you. 1 ask you once more, to deal candid- 
 ly with me. In whatever way you may 
 have been unfortunate, I can, perhaps, be- 
 friend you — by every necessary alleviation 
 of any critical distress. We are sli liable 
 to error, which becomes doubly criminal 
 when deliberately persisted in." 
 
 The young womin burst into tears- 
 Emily's voice and manner had reached her 
 heart; but still any particular confession 
 died u()on her lips. She continued to sob, 
 as if in violent despair; and, at length, fal- 
 ter! ngly said : — 
 
 " Were all ladies like you, madam ! 
 
 I am so miserable!^ what wdi become 
 
 of me ?" 
 
 Emily soothed her with gentleness. 
 
 " You would spurn me from your pre- 
 sence, were 1 to confess all — you would be- 
 tray me to my friends." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 43 
 
 " I promise you I will not — confide in 
 me with sincerity/' 
 
 " Were my poor father acquainted with 
 his daughter's credulity and tolly, I am sure 
 it would kill him. 1 shall never see him 
 again." 
 
 Poor Emily had undergone a variety of 
 distressmg- emotions — it might be her own 
 husband's depravity she was about to be 
 confirmed in ; but, exerting- every effort of 
 resolution, she again urged her agitated 
 companion to tell her story with candour 
 and truth. 
 
 " Weil, madam — I will indeed tell you 
 all the truth. I am the daughter of a re- 
 spectable farmer in the country. We are a 
 very large family : and, about a twelve- 
 month ago, my father was induced to let 
 me come up to town to a genteel service. 
 Oh what good advice and cautions he gave 
 me to recommend a virtuous conduct ! A 
 very particular friend introduced me to 
 INIrs. Rebecca Franks' notice ; and, as my 
 education had ixen superior to the gene- 
 rality of servants, she was pleased with the 
 id(^a that 1 could read to her, and work fine 
 linen. For six nmnrhs 1 was as happy as 
 leavins: my parents and mv lady's temper 
 permitted me to be. Mr. Franks, who gen- 
 erally spent sosne m<»nths in the year with 
 his aunt, often spoke to me, (as 1 then 
 
44 THE fATAL CABINET. 
 
 thought,) very condescendingly ; but al- 
 ways more so li ever by chance he met with 
 me aione. He soon attempted to grow more 
 faniiiiar. 1 repulsed him at first as much 
 as possible ; but he talked so kindly, and 
 insisted upon my receiving some very pret- 
 ty presents, that I believe i did not then 
 avoid him as much as i ought to have done; 
 and when he solemnly swore he could not 
 live without me, i began to think any sit- 
 uation was preferable to servitude and de- 
 pendance-r-ibr my mistress was, at times, 
 very severe, and alwoys capricious. — Oh 
 what promises he made ! that if I were pru- 
 dent and secret, the time might come when 
 he would marry me ! He had made me con- 
 fess my regard for him- — and then took ad- 
 vantage of my weakness. He made me, 
 madam, the most miserable of human be- 
 ings ! He had promised a sum of money ; 
 but 1 declare he has not given me a six- 
 pence since he has been my ruin — but al- 
 ways threatened me with desertion and 
 poverty, if I dared to breathe to his aunt a 
 syllable of our intercourse. She soon re- 
 gaided me with a suspicious eye, and has 
 of late questioned me v'ery severely. I have 
 denied all her accusations, and even an- 
 swered her with pertness and resentment : 
 an'! she always denoutjcrd vengeance and 
 punishment for the crime she thought I 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. ^ <5 
 
 had been guilty ot^ — saying, 1 should coon 
 be in the streets a wretched wanderer, and 
 die in a hovel, diseased and miserable. In 
 vain I represented to Mr. Franks my un- 
 happy situation, and his aunt's accusations. 
 With tremendous oaths he again threaten- 
 ed my destruction, if I exposed his con- 
 duct: and, without money, without i'riends, 
 where could 1 turn for reliel ? In the ago- 
 nies of despair, how shall I repeat it? I 
 have endeavoured, by medicine, to remove 
 the misery of my situation ; and I deter- 
 mined, if not successfid in the attempt 
 wlien the period arrived which would con- 
 firm my shame, to destroy the fatal evidence.c 
 of unequivocal guilt. Start not, madam, 
 with horror at such a resolution ! Who 
 would receive "pe into their house? who 
 would take care of my child? where could 
 I procure an honest livelihood ? how could 
 I persuade such unfeeling people as my 
 mistress and Mr. Franks that. my penitence 
 was sin(*oie ? My father would turn me 
 from his door, and I should be pointed at 
 as an undone and l(»st creature, by those 
 who were good and virtuous. If I defied 
 it all, and endeavoured to rike care of my 
 child, how coidd I support myself by in- 
 dustry ? All this, indeed, I' told Mr, 
 
 Franks before I heard his conversation with 
 Sir George Sinclair. Oh madam ! do not 
 
 VOL. U. O 
 
4G THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 betra}^ me to my mistress, or my friends ; 
 but save me, if possible, from shame and 
 misery." 
 
 " I have listened most attentively to your 
 story; nor will I doubt your veracity : this 
 is not a time to reprobate your conduct 
 with severity; but as you value your eter- 
 nal happiness, dare not to encourage the 
 Avickcd ideas which you have just confess- 
 ed ; remember that you can only expiate 
 past offences by the strictest adherence to 
 virtue for the future ! How could you ever 
 think of sacrificing the life of an innocent 
 being — and this being your own child ! 
 Surely, if you had once felt the warm pres- 
 sure of its little form, nature would have 
 revolted at the crime! Besides, depend up- 
 on it that the Almighty will, sooner or la- 
 ter^ bring the murderer to justice ; and 
 what then think you of the shame annexed 
 to such an exposition V 
 
 " Oh m.adam ! do not pray do not 
 
 speak thus but will vou now stand my 
 
 friend ?'^ 
 
 Subdued by her agitation, she fell on her 
 knees to Emily, and, in the attitude of sup- 
 plication, remained a few moments, inca- 
 pable of articulating a word. At length, 
 somewhat relieved by a violent flood of 
 tears, she said : — 
 
 '« Point out the method to save me from 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 47 
 
 destruction : my gratitude shall end Ijut 
 with my life/^ 
 
 Emily soothed her in the gentlest man- 
 ner — the girl almost worshipping her as an 
 angel, and promising to be solely guided by 
 her advice, 
 
 Mrs. ritsmorton, most opportunely now 
 calling to see Emily, and the children, was 
 confidentially entrusted with the poor girl's 
 story, and in the urbanity and goodness of 
 her heart, s!ie ofi'ered to lake. the young- 
 woman home with her, to make every pro- 
 per inquiry of Mrs. Rebecca Franks: anct" 
 advise that lady to part quietly with the 
 girl, for many and obvious reasons ; not 
 doubting that as suspicions had been ad- 
 mitted, she would rejoice at her departure, 
 Catherine AYalker, (which was the 3'oung 
 woman's name,) accompanied Mrs. Eits- 
 morton home ; and Emily pondered some 
 time on tjie scene which had passed, and on 
 the hypocritical conduct of a man she had 
 regarded as Edward's friend and her own. 
 She felt satisfied that Catherine was now in 
 good hands ; that Mrs. Fitsmorton would 
 inquire, with perseverance, into the truth 
 of thestor}^ and that if no levity of conduct 
 appeared from the investigation, she would 
 gladly assist in some plan to relieve her 
 necessities. 
 
 The hour of dinner arrived, but Fits- 
 
v* THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 morton still was absent. (3}i ! bad return- 
 ing love been admitted into bis besom ! 
 would he not have awaited with anxious 
 imjoatience lor the hour of meeting ? She 
 longed to teil him oi her good luck in the 
 lottery, hoping it might prove to him a 
 pleasant and convenient circumstance. 
 Worn out with fruitless regrets, and vain 
 anticipations, she despairingly thouoht that 
 death only could relieve her from the mise- 
 ry she endured ; but at this instan^t her lit- 
 tle boy being broug'it into the room, as 
 she pressed the smiling cherub to her heart, 
 she felt that life had not yet lost its inter- 
 est, and that she could bear with patience 
 its various and afrlictive changes. Every 
 passing hour encreased her trembling ex- 
 oectations. Towards the eveninsf she be- 
 gan to fear that Fitsmorton would not be 
 in a state to meet her as she wished ; and 
 great was her alarm, when the servant in- 
 formed her, that a gentleman would not 
 be denied admittance; saying he had a 
 message to deliver from Mr. Fitsmorton. 
 
 She had not time for deliberaiion, he en- 
 tered the room ; and now a thousand shock- 
 ing thoughts blanched her cheek with fear, 
 and her whole frame shook with trepida- 
 tion. VV^hat language can express her emo- 
 tions when Mr. Franks advanced towards 
 licr ! was he to be the messenger of mise- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 49 
 
 ry ? was he to witness the incoherence of 
 sorrow, and ascertain some unexpected 
 atniction ; lor Fitsmorton was associated 
 with every idea ; and the sad effects of iin- 
 governed rashness in her husband^s con- 
 duct, had of late been too frequently anti- 
 cipated. Endeavouring to conceal her feel- 
 ings, she recoiled with indignation from 
 Mr. Franks' offered hand, and the laconic 
 interrogatory of "well, sir," only escaped 
 her lips. 
 
 " Pardon, dear madam, the innocent ar- 
 tifice I have presumed to practice, to gain 
 admittance to \^our presence." 
 
 She interrupted him, " you come not 
 then, sir, from Mr. Fitsmorton." 
 
 *•' 1 have certainly just parted with him, 
 (he suppressed a sigh of well-affected des- 
 pondency,) but he knows not of my event- 
 ful visit." 
 
 " Is he well, sir? or has any accident, 
 any " 
 
 " There is no cause, dearest madam, for 
 this lovely, this enviable agitation. I left 
 him well in health, but but " 
 
 " But what, sir! be quick if you have 
 any thing to communicate which is neces- 
 sary for me to hear." 
 
 " 1 have that to communicate which 
 must ever add to the poignant regrets of an 
 affectionate wife. When a mansacrifices 
 5 * 
 
•,0 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Jiis time and fortune to the infatuating' 
 propensity of gaming ; when he neglects the 
 most amiable and lovely of women for — " 
 
 " Hold, sir ! from you this discourse is 
 intrusive, ungenerous, and do you not pro- 
 fess yourselt the friend of Mr. Fitsmorlon? 
 but to steal on my hour of privacy, and 
 discover to me his tailings, is no great proof 
 of the sincerity of your boasted friendship ! 
 Leave me, sir, nor dare again to*vound my 
 ear by a repetition of what real delicacy 
 would ever have concealed." 
 
 With well-feigned humility he solicited 
 her forgiveness ; that he might have erred, 
 from feeling too severely his friend's dere- 
 liction from prudence, but that he could 
 not exist under her displeasure ; and whilst 
 the deceptive tear glistened in his eye, he 
 feared that too soon such unrivalled excel- 
 lence must know the fatal truth. He de- 
 clared upon his honour that he came not 
 to add to her distress, but to warn he r of 
 the intentions oi a man he once called his 
 friend. 
 
 Emily now fancying she could trace the 
 grand cause of his visit, owing to Cathe- 
 rine Walker's communications, involuntari- 
 ly smiled with contempt; and wishing to 
 convince Mr. Franks that the cruelty of his 
 conduct was discovered, she said, with 
 tolerable composure, *' proceed, sir." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. SI 
 
 " He then coniiessed that the reason he 
 had iniriided himseit so unexpectedly, was 
 to warn her of the tbily of a madman ; that 
 he trembled to think what the rashness of 
 a man in Sir George Sinclair's situation 
 migiit induce liim to attempt. 
 
 " W lien% (he continued,) may that ten- 
 denry to insanity lead him, to which he 
 has been subject, since the dreadful acci- 
 deni tie met with ? He swears he will yet 
 have yuu in his power ; that it is your beau- 
 ty that enslaves his senses. And but for 
 my persuasions, he would ere this have 
 comnitted some outrage to secure so envi- 
 able a prize." 
 
 " Your st(^ry is so perfectly ridiculous, 
 that I begin to think you must have met 
 -with a similar accident to that of Sir 
 G eorge Sinclair's." 
 
 " By heavens ! madam, your contempt 
 is past endurance! Forgive my vehemen«'e, 
 on my knees i entreat your pardon, <^ 
 how gladly would I prove myself your 
 guardian and your friend ; had 1 early met 
 wiih so lovely, so amiable a beinu, how 
 blessed had been my fate ! How often in 
 secret have 1 lamented the insensibility of 
 the most envied of men." 
 
 *' Rise, sir, n()r dare profane my ears 
 with such speciou*?, such hypocritical lan- 
 guage. Our conference is nearly now, and 
 
52 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 for ever, at an end. 1 have only one sim- 
 ple question to ask you." 
 
 " A thousand from your h'ps, it would 
 be my pride and my pleasure to answer ; 
 nay, my whole life devoted to the service 
 of Mrs. Fitsmorton, could but ill convince 
 her of my unalterable devotion ! of my ad- 
 miration of her virtues ; and of my heart- 
 felt sensibility of her unmerited wrongs !" 
 
 " Your very moral and disinterested 
 conduct affords me little doubt but that 
 your boasted sensibility will experience a 
 very severe trial, when I ask you if Cathe- 
 rine Walker is not an intimate acquaintance 
 of yours ?" Emily then pulling the bell in 
 haste, only added : 
 
 " 1 am well acquainted with the very 
 honourable part you have acted, and my 
 best advice is, that you attend to Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton's proposals of pecuniary relief 
 for the object of your cruel deception ; or 
 less lenient measures may be resorted tct." 
 
 The servant now answering the bell, 
 Emily desired him to open the door for Mr. 
 Franks. And shocked at the contrariety 
 oi passions his countenance expressed, she 
 rushed through the folding doors into the 
 adjoining drawing-room, and felt a compar- 
 ative relief when she was assured that he 
 had left the house. 
 
 Emily endeavoured not to give full ere- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 5s 
 
 idit to what Mr. Franks had so confidently 
 ^asserted, yet duubt, tear, and anxiety, a^i- 
 |tated her bosom. He had hinted, in the 
 course of their conference, thai Sir George 
 •Sinclair was the i»uthor of the anonymous 
 letter she had received; but she knew not 
 that Franks was his artful instigator ; she 
 knew not that he was the vile abettor of all 
 her husband's follies, and had endeavoured 
 [to infuse every poisonous suspicion of her 
 conduct into his alienated mind. Of Sir 
 iGeorge Sinclair's shallow plots, and half- 
 |formed machinations, she had little fear; 
 and her eyes open to the deceptive charac- 
 (terof Mr. Franks, she seemed even to doubt 
 ttheir possibility. E'lward, her beloved Ed- 
 ^ward, seeking the road to desti iK'iion — the 
 (diamonds lavished on some artrul liUvvor- 
 Ithy being", and the ruin with which she and 
 iher children was threatened, were subjects 
 iwhich agonised her mind with emotions 
 Ibeyond the power of reason to controul. 
 
 Evenins: approached, and nothini? inter- 
 irupted her sad refl ctions but the servant 
 [Ibringing into the room some letters for his 
 lima^ter : she had just involuntarily exclaim- 
 ted, " surely he cannot have read my letter!" 
 when the object of her solicitude knocked 
 at the door. A transient view of his coun- 
 tenance chilled her heart with horror; pale, 
 haggard, his eyes appearing fixed on vacan- 
 
54 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 cy, and his whole frame seemed to have 
 suffered from recent and ungoverned agita- 
 tion. 
 
 " My dear Edward !'^ was all she could 
 at first articulate ; then endeavouring to 
 subdue her feelings, she said, " welcome 
 home once more ! you know not with what 
 impatience I have expected you !" 
 
 Home ! (he emphatically repeated) have 
 J a home yet remaining ?'' 
 
 " Yes, my love, and a heart which longs 
 to repose again in confidence on your bo- 
 som ; gaze not so wildly at me, it is your 
 own Emily who speaks to you ; my letter 
 must have convinced you how I have long- 
 ed for this moment of meeting/^ 
 
 " My Emily ! this is indeed a bitter mo- 
 ment i" 
 
 " Something oppresses you, dear Ed- 
 ward. 1 am prepared for every evil but 
 the total loss of your affection and confi- 
 dence," 
 
 He clasped his hands in agony, then re- 
 garding her a moment in silence, he tlung 
 his arms around her, and- wept upon her 
 bosom. It was a feeling so av/ful, so im- 
 pressive, that a few moments elapsed before 
 either could break the solemn silence ; at 
 length Emily said — 
 
 " The torture of suspense, is not to be 
 borne ; my dear, dear husband, confide 
 wholly in me." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 53 
 
 " Oh Emily, had we met this morning. 
 [[Cursed iiitatuatioii !" Then, as it" recollect- 
 ing Mr. Franks' insinuations, he continued, 
 " But you, madam, no doubt have been 
 well amused daring my absence." 
 
 Emily could little surmise to what he 
 lalluded. She began to tear his senses were 
 aifected, and burst into tears. 
 
 Fitsmorton traversed the room in breath- 
 less agitation ; then gazing stedfastiy on 
 lEmily, he said — 
 
 I " When a woman, in the absence of her 
 ihusband, can entertain, and be entertained, 
 'what credit is to be given^ to the. joy she 
 < expresses at his return ?" 
 
 " I am totally ignorant to what you al- 
 ii lude ; if to have suffered all that mental 
 wretchedness can inflict, is to be enterlain- 
 '': ed, then indeed you are right in your con- 
 jectures : — for heaven's sake be explicit." 
 
 " Torture ! madness ! my brain is burst- 
 ing ! the breath of innocence, the bosom of 
 chastity, might have soothed the agonies I 
 
 endure, but " 
 
 " This, Edward, is not a time to feel re- 
 sentment at your unjust insinuations; you 
 surely cannot, dare not, suspect me of any 
 unvi'orthy conduct. Your mind is hurt 
 and irritated ; and I can solicit yon, with 
 innocence and truth, to repose in my bosom 
 your every care." 
 
56 THE FATAL CABINET. I 
 
 In hurried accents he asked her, who! 
 had dared lo sleep at the house during his 
 absence ? who was the happy man so high- 
 ly favoured ? 
 
 " Edward, (she repHed.) did I not seei 
 that disappointtnent nr*?sses hard upon 
 your mind, 1 shoijld answer with the con-J 
 tempt your question merits. Our mutual 
 fnend. Dr. Leicester, was one night my 
 welcome guest." 
 
 " Dr. Leicester ! (he exclaimed,) my 
 own creduHly has doubtless deceived me.^^ 
 He then told her ot his meeting with 
 Franks, who had mentioned, in mere badi- 
 nage^ what he had, in the dishacted state 
 of his mind, taken up too seriously, and af- 
 ter reprobating his own unjust suspicions, 
 he roniinued — 
 
 " My dearest Emily, if auy thing can al- 
 leviate rny wrttctied situation, it is the idea 
 that you still love me, that you pardon all 
 my uukindness and folly." 
 
 ." Oil, let us uow and for ever have done 
 with such a subject." (A momentary sus- 
 picion crossed her mind, that Franks was 
 not guilty of s(mie de'>;ign in his apparent | 
 badinas^e.) " Dtar Edward, appreciate the \ 
 love 1 bear you. Whatever be your future 
 fate, remember it is mine also." Fitsmor- 
 ton claspe<l her to his heart. Emily declar- 
 ed she could not exist under the pressure 
 of such accumulating anxiety. 
 
THE FATAL CAUINET. 57 
 
 " If, Emily, (he replied,) the anxiety is 
 so oppressive, what will prove the reality 
 of misery ? How will you bear up your agi- 
 tated mind, when 1 tell you, that 1 am ru- 
 ined beyond redemption, in every sense of 
 the word : that 1 am disgraced, utterly dis- 
 graced for ever !" 
 
 Emily faintly said, " disgraced ! impos- 
 sible." 
 
 " By heaven , 'tis true! our boy may 
 curse the existence of his father! my mo- 
 ther! even her gentle nature will remem- 
 Iber this day with horror; and as to thee, 
 *oh Emily! how wilt thou endure trials so 
 ; severe ?" 
 
 " Some dreadful mystery hangs about 
 ■your words ; if, my dear Edward, 1 may 
 I unravel it, 1 guess that a fatal infatuation 
 j lias made us bes^oars/* 
 1 He groaned. 
 
 She continued. " And is this the migh- 
 ty evil I am taught to fear ? My love, I 
 Bread not poverty, if blessed with your re- 
 r.urning confidence ; I speak not the enthu- 
 siastic language of romance, but most wil- 
 lingly could I give up every indulgence and 
 uxury, most willingly bend to any reverse 
 )f fortune, if not neglected by a husband — 
 •.ver the object of my tenderest love ! Oh 
 :ould I be assured that 1 have not been 
 
 leglected for the sake of " 
 
 VOL. n. 6 
 
58 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 The words died upon her lips. 
 
 Fitsmorton looked up to heaven, in wild 
 despair, saying : 
 
 " Surely, surely, thou art an angel ! Emi- 
 ly, I swear by the God who made me, that 
 your suspicions are groundless ; how you 
 became acquainted with the destination of 
 the diamonds remains yet to be explained ; 
 as must also, at a future time, my folly, in 
 being guilty of such extravagance ; at pre- 
 sent rest assured that it proceeded from a 
 disgraceful wager, made in an hour of in- 
 toxication ; and that the woman who re- 
 ceived the diamonds was the exclusive 
 clwre amie of another." 
 
 " How light appears the loss of fortune 
 to the loss of your affection ! You may 
 have been imprudent, but could 1 persuade 
 you to leave London for one twelvemonth, 
 all may yet be well." 
 
 He wildly said, " alas ! whither can we 
 go?" 
 
 " To Fitsmorton Park, or any where 
 that you shall best prefer." 
 
 Emily had touched the vibrating chord 
 which agonized his every feeling. His 
 countenance became ghastly, and in falter- 
 ing accents he replied : — 
 
 " In a very short time Fitsmorton Park 
 owns another master ; my mother's fortune 
 is involved. — Oh Emily, leave me to my 
 fate !" 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 59 
 
 " Leave you ! oh never." Then joyfully 
 taking from a pocket-book the five thou- 
 sand pounds which she had received of 
 Dr. Leicester, she put them into her hus- 
 band's hands ; he grasped them in silent 
 amazement; and when she explained by 
 what means she became possessed of them, 
 he could only say : 
 
 " Eternal Providence, for this I thank 
 thee r 
 
 " Yes, Edward, (she returned,) we will 
 receive it as the gift of heaven ; this money 
 will fully reimburse that part of your mo- 
 ther's property which rested in your hands ; 
 all other losses are comparatively light. 
 Had you never been in possession of Eits- 
 morton Park, my heart had still been yours. 
 Dear Edward, all will yet be well." 
 
 "Yes, when the upbraiditigs of a guilty 
 conscience can be silenced; when your in- 
 juries and our infant's Wrongs can be com- 
 pensated." 
 
 *' Abjure your errors, the mercy of hea- 
 ven is unlimited. Our child cannot feel 
 the deprivation of luxuries he never pos- 
 sessed ; and as to myself, a cottage, or even 
 a prison, were preferable to the splendid 
 misery I have lately endured. But we 
 have many friends. And again I say, all 
 will yet be well.'^ 
 
 " What claims have folly and vice on the 
 
Go THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 bounty of friends ? Live on abject char- 
 ity ? Oh never \" 
 
 He then again relapsed into frantic vio- 
 lence ; he pressed her hands on his burning 
 forehead, whilst she, vi'ith every endear- 
 ment that sympathy and affection could 
 (jevise, sougli-t to cool the fever of his brain : 
 and soon she drew from him a full confes- 
 sion of the infatuation which had proved 
 his ruin. He told her that Franks had of- 
 ten endeavoured to save him from destruc- 
 tion : that a prison,- in all probability, would 
 now be his future fate ; that the time might 
 come, when she would be acquainted with 
 the primary cause of his estrangement from 
 domestic happiness; and again solemnly 
 affirmed that his neglect of her had not 
 arisen from any disgraceful attachment. 
 
 The sweetest tears that Emily ever shed, 
 fell from her eyes ; and, in her turn, she 
 recapitulated all that she had privately suf- 
 fered, and produced the anonymous letter 
 she had received. 
 
 Fitsmorton execrated th6 writer, and 
 imagined that the letter sent to him was 
 from the same quarter. Emily wished to 
 change the subject. In the irritable state 
 of Fitsmorton's mind, she dared not men- 
 tion Sir George Sinclair or Mr. Franks as 
 their author. She therefore endeavoiired 
 to palliate all the evils with which they 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 61 
 
 were surrounded, and, by her own forti- 
 tude, to support her husband's distracted 
 mind. 
 
 Whilst he bung on her soothing accents, 
 and felt the beaming pity of her eye, he en- 
 deavoured to restrain the emotions at his 
 heart : but too soon the recollection that 
 he was ruined beyond redemption, remind- 
 ed him of the villain, who, by convincing 
 him of his former credulity, and awakening 
 unwarrantable suspicions that happiness 
 was delusive, had unsettled his principles, 
 and vitiated the purity of his taste and sen- 
 timents. 
 
 What a moment was this to receive the 
 news of Dorvi He's, arrival in England ! The 
 parcel of letters caught Fitsmorton's atten- 
 tion ; he opened several, and read them, as 
 if mechanically ; when, taking up one, he 
 1 recognized the hand-writing of Dorville. 
 
 Emily had just left the room, and was 
 isaved witnessing the dreadful expression 
 of his countenance. The letter simply in- 
 formed him that Dorville had that instant 
 landed at Portsmouth ; that he was well 
 aware intelligence of his death had been 
 iprematurely circulated ; mentioned the 
 morning that he should arrive at the hotel 
 in Berkley-square, where he entreated Fits- 
 morton to give him the meeting, that he 
 
 night prepare all the beloved family for his- 
 • 5 * 
 
62 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 apparent resurrection ; and that lie would 
 soon explain its mystery. Violent emotion, 
 on tlie first perusal, agitated the trembling 
 nerves ot Fitsmorton. " Yes," he exclaim- 
 ed ; "I w\\l meet thee, Dorville ! and fa- 
 tally shalt thou be remembered by all !" — 
 He concealed the letter ere Emily returned, 
 and endeavoured to suppress his agonizing 
 reflections. He told her that one of the 
 letters demanded his attention early in the 
 morning; that he must instantly write an 
 answer ; that he should be employed at his 
 pen for an hour or two on some important 
 business, and, with the most distressing 
 feelings, but with assumed serenity, he en- 
 treated her to retire to rest, and that he 
 would remain in her dressing-room until 
 he had finished writing. 
 
 Dorville^s letter had appointed the next 
 morning, at an early hour, for his being in 
 London. Fitsmorton therefore immedi- 
 ately sent the following letter to the hotel, 
 to await his arrival : — 
 
 '• To recriminate is useless — facts are 
 stubborn things : your deliberate villainy 
 has proved my ruin. Chance, or whatever 
 we are pleased to call it, has discovered to 
 me the deceptive hypocrisy of a man I once 
 called my friend. Your own conscience 
 will best comprehend my meaning. These 
 hasty lines will be given to you on your 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 63 
 
 arrival at the hotel, anfl I shall be waiting 
 to take the just vengeance which ^oiir con- 
 duct merits." 
 
 He then appointed the place and hour 
 with all necessary arrangements ; and, aner 
 having promised Emily to finish his writing 
 as quickly as possible, she could not resist 
 his earnest entreaties to be left to himself. 
 Heroically as she had supported her spirits 
 when wishing; to give comfort to her lius- 
 band, she now yielded to every depressive 
 feeling; and some time elapsed before she 
 could gain composure enough to supplicate 
 the Disposer of all events for resolution and 
 fortitude in this hour of trial. But when 
 she reflected that her suspicions were 
 groundless of Fitsmorton's infidelity, all 
 other misfortunes appeared comparatively 
 light; and any reverse of fortune she felt 
 herself equal to submit to. Amidst her 
 own sorrows, Mrs. Grosvenor^s fate was 
 ever a predominant subject ; and sad were 
 Emily's presentiments that remorse would 
 convince her mother of the fallacy of her 
 present pursuits. 
 
 Whon Fitsmorton was left to himself, he 
 struggled to gain some degree of compo- 
 sure ; but the variety of emotions which 
 assailed him were for some time uncon- 
 
 troulable — he had panted for revenge. 
 
 The hour was near at hand, and he hailed 
 
64 THE FATAL CABIN Et. 
 
 it with ferocious joy ; then suddenly start- 
 ing with horror at the idea of erabrunio- his 
 hands in tiie bloud of a fellow-creature, or 
 of appearing himself at the awful tribunal 
 of Heaven ! But he again read D<>rvil!e's 
 letter, gazed on the fatal miniature, and 
 feeling that his future lite would be insup- 
 portable, from the certain approaches of 
 disgraceful poverty, he considered existence 
 as a burden, because it could no longer be 
 supported with respectability and honour : 
 he therefore immediately determined to 
 write to Alfred Granby — that, whatever 
 proved the result of the duel, the motives 
 of his conduct might be elucidated. 
 
 The report of Dorville^s death had origi- 
 nated from a man of the same name having 
 died in India, and concurring circumstan- 
 ces fatally prevented all usual intercourse 
 for two or three years with his friends in 
 England. At one time, a packet of letters 
 had been entrusted to a private hand, and 
 never delivered ; and he himself having been 
 unexpectedly sent far up the country, the 
 unfounded report of his death was not con- 
 tradicted. '^ 
 
 FUsmorton's Letter to Alfred Granhy. 
 
 " Short is the time allotted to explain to 
 you my motives for the rash step I am 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 63 
 
 about to take. In a word, Granby, I am 
 a ruined niaii ! — ruined in fortune — in re- 
 putation — and in all that can make life es- 
 timable ! 1 believe I have been wrong, but 
 nothing can recall the past ; and 1 am im- 
 pelled, by an irresistible impulse, to follow 
 Uhe dictates of a well-grounded resentment. 
 1 " You remember me, Granby, happy in 
 jmy union with the object of my earliest 
 Hove ; and that our mutual friend Dorville 
 iwas .domesticated with generous and un- 
 ^bounded confidence! This man, under the 
 (disguise of friendship, laughed at my cre- 
 idulity, and alienated the affections of my 
 iwife! — of a being, on whose virtue and 
 honour I would have staked my existence. 
 •Some little time ago, I found a letter in a 
 [Cabinet which had belonged to her, confes- 
 ising his attachment, accompanied by a mini- 
 ature of himself, stamping conviction on 
 this dreadful fact ; that I had lived the dupe 
 of their depravity ! Conceive, if you can, 
 the revolution my mind experienced ! Time 
 >is now too precious to describe my feel- 
 lings. Every resentment which insulted 
 honour could feel, I felt ! and I vowed, if 
 3ver fate gave me the power of revenge, it 
 should be fully satiated. I will not excuse 
 Dr palliate my total, nay, almost instanta- 
 leous neglect of domestic duties : but so 
 It was — the smiles of Emily appeared only 
 
66 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 deceptive snares for my undoing ; and the 
 words ' Siicii once was Mary Dalrymple !' 
 concluded every mental warfare. Her 
 child, who had been my solace in afflic- 
 tion, my joy in returning peace, became 
 an object of detestation, and every vindic- 
 tive passion raged with redoubled fury 
 when Emily courted my notice for her lit- 
 tle tavourite. 
 
 " For refuse from feelinc^s which con- 
 sumed me, 1 sought their oblivion m the 
 midnight revel ; in the circle of inebriation. 
 The spirit of gaming soon overpowered my 
 reasoning faculties, and the occupation 
 which appeared at first a resource from the 
 bitterness of reflection, became the engen- 
 dered habit of my soul ; and fortime, repu- 
 tation, and peace, are now the fatal sacri- 
 fice ! With hardened illiberality, I suspect- 
 ed Emily of deceit; and though her fair 
 brow, and invariable rectitude of conduct, 
 baffled suspicion, and set distrust at defi- 
 ance ; I repulsed her every endearing wish 
 for returning confidence, and left her to 
 mourn my unkindness iu solitude. Every 
 little accidental occurrence I converted in- 
 to proofs, strong as holy writ. And I even 
 sometimes doubted the delicacy of her af- 
 fection, because she ever v/clcomed me with 
 smiles, nor reproached my neglect with 
 harshness. Granby ! I linger on the sub- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. fij 
 
 iject, but I must be brief. My paternal es- 
 !tate will soon be in the possession of ano- 
 ther ! 
 
 " My senses seem to hav^e wandered. I 
 am now more composted. Dv)rville is just 
 ■ arrived in England. You remember the 
 (report of his death ; it was unfounded. By 
 i heaven ! Granby, he has written to me, ex- 
 ipressing his joy at the prospect of meeting- 
 my family ; and he must expect to meet the 
 partner of his guilt, he cannot have heard 
 of her death. Does not his present con- 
 duct reach the farthest mark that hypocri- 
 sy ever attempted } And shall 1 permit this 
 man to enjoy so fatal a triumph ? To con- 
 sider me as the convenient dupe of his un- 
 parallelled deceit ! if 1 tall, do you and my 
 sister comfort my poor distracted mother ! 
 Palliate the follies I have been guilty of; 
 and let her find in you a son. Explain to 
 Emily every circumstance ; nothing will 
 then add to her affliction ! I have slighted 
 an invaluable jewel, because the lustre oF 
 one I once possessed was false and decep- 
 tive! If I fall! these words are indeed of 
 solemn import : but is not the grave the 
 surest refuge for suffering humanity ? — 
 Dreadful reflections will intrude. I cannot 
 silence a voice which seems to pronounce 
 the soul immortal ! 
 
 " This shall be forwarded to you at the 
 
Cs THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 hour of my meeting Dorville ; and should 
 his pistol prove succesbiiii, then ! oh, then ! 
 conceal tVom idle curiosity the sad story 
 of Mary Dairy m pie ; let not her family now 
 shed ihe Miter tears of shame! Emily will 
 ever shield and protect the little innocent 
 object I have neglected. As to my hoy, 
 my beggared injured boy ! may he live to 
 prove a blessing to his mother; and when 
 her bosom can no longer he his Oiily sanc- 
 tuary, be you to him a father ! 
 
 " My sister ? you w hom 1 have ever lov- 
 ed, farewell ! Be grateful for your happy 
 lot, safe in the asylum of an husband^s pro- 
 tecting arms ; you are far removed from the 
 vanities and ioilies of life ! Granby, I en- 
 close for you the letter, and the miniature. 
 
 " 1 have traversed the apartments ir> 
 gloomv meditations: I have been stationed 
 at the door of the nursery ; 1 caught the 
 sound of my little Edward's voice, as if 
 struggling with the power of sleep. — 1 long- 
 ed to press him to my bosom ; but 1 could 
 not command my feelings; the agitation I . 
 endured iTiight have aroused suspicion. I 
 breathed a fervant prayer to heaven for his 
 future welfare. 
 
 " Emily has fallen into an unquiet sluiti- 
 ber ; tears are still visible on her cheeks. 
 Had I gazed much longer, I should have' 
 wished the eventful challenge recalled. I 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 69 
 
 should have permitted this fell destroyer 
 of innocence to escape my vengeance : for 
 not the present object of my tender affec- 
 tions, giv^es tairer promise of perfection than 
 did once the unfortunate Mary Dairympie. 
 " Granby, farewell ! What a still and so- 
 lemn hour ! thestrikingof the clock vibrates 
 like my departing knell ! It seems as if — • 
 ' through the still globe's awful solitude, 
 
 ; no being: wakes but me/ 
 
 j *' Once more farewell ! 
 
 " Edward Fitsmorton." 
 
 Fitsmorton took every proper precaution 
 to secure the five thousand pounds, to re- 
 i imburse his mother's property. He then 
 I endeavoured to hold communion with his 
 'Maker; but ever vain must be that peni- 
 ttence which leads not t3 a renunciatif)n of 
 (error! At the moment of supplication to 
 Iheaven, he was reconciling to his conscience 
 :an action which, however the sophism of 
 iman may allow, must receive condemna- 
 ition at the awful tribunal of God. 
 
 VOL. II. 7 
 
70 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 When Mrs. Fitsmorton left Emily, ac- 
 companied by Catherine Walker, after plac- 
 ing her under the protection of a person 
 she could confide in — ever active in the 
 cause of benevolence, she sought an inter- 
 view with Mrs. Rebecca Franks, whose 
 violence of mariner, and unfeeling invec- 
 tives, bespoke not the goodness either of 
 her head or heart ; but throughout thf re- 
 probation of Catherine's conduct, Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton charitably inferred, that the poor 
 girl's dereliction from virtue was more ow- 
 ing to the arts of her seducer than to her 
 own depravity of heart. Mrs. Rebecca 
 Franks was very easily persuaded to part 
 peaceably with Catherine Walker, and Virs. 
 Fitsmorton took her leave, more than ever 
 determined to save this victim from farther 
 destruction. 
 
 To Mr. Franks, she wrote, as follows : 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " I am the protectress of a deceived un- 
 happy girl : your own conscience will point 
 out in what manner I became acquainted 
 with your proceedings ; how 1 know the 
 dishonourable part you have acted, by that 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 71 
 
 object of compassion, Sir George Sinclair; 
 and also liie deception of your conduct to- 
 wards my son, and his unsuspecting wife. 
 To endeavour to worii upon your feelings, 
 were, 1 believe, a very arduous task ; but of 
 this be assured, that it you do not make a 
 proper provision for an ill-fated object 
 which may soon see light, your character 
 and nefarious proceedings shall be duly ex- 
 posed. 
 
 " There is still virtue enouoh left in the 
 world, to hold your conduct m detestation, 
 on Catherine Walkev's account; but what 
 will touch you more nearly, would be the 
 exposure of your unjust proceedings, in 
 money matters, with Sir George Sinclair ; 
 and your having dared tQ trifle with the 
 anjj-elic purity of Emily Fitsmorton. A 
 word to the wise is sutficient ; and that you 
 possess worldly wisdom, there can be little 
 doubt. Let me, however, hint to you, that 
 you have probably escaped being the mur- 
 derer of her whose innocence you h^ve 
 sacrificed ; together with the unborn evi- 
 dence of her shame : for lost, as the poor 
 girl thought she was, to all virtuous socie- 
 ty, brutally repulsed by the man who had 
 bei rayed her, she had nearly fled from ac- 
 cumulating misery to the silence of the 
 grave. 
 
 " Lives there a human being who could 
 
72 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 have felt himself the cause of such a catas- 
 trophe and not have been eternally haunjed 
 by a guilty conscience, if he could still 
 have pursued the gay careei' of vice, and 
 marked out objects for destruction, the 
 hour of retribution would yet arrive, and' 
 the approach of death convince him that 
 conscience sleepeth not for ever. 
 
 " Should your unhappy child see light, 
 secure to it a proper provision. The mo- 
 ther shall never condescend to ask charity 
 from her betrayer. 
 
 " M. FlTSMORTON.^^ 
 
 \7hen Franks received this letter, he was 
 preparing to join a party of pleasure ; he 
 threw the paper into the fire, and endea- 
 voured to suppose the contents were only 
 an exaggeration of a weak old woman's 
 fears, and being assured that Catherine 
 Walker was in good hands, not likely to 
 call upon him for support, he dismissed the 
 subject from his mind, without farther 
 prosing or consideration. 
 
 Fitsmorton passed the remaining hours 
 which were to elapse before the eventful 
 meeting, as most men do, (notv/ithstanding 
 the boasted heroism of philosophy,) who 
 are about to take their chance of quilting 
 this state of existence, or of being guilty of 
 the death of a fellow-creature. The fever- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 7^ 
 
 isli State of his mind little abated by the 
 wretched scenes fancy had pourtrayed, in 
 delusive and appalling dreams ; and he arose 
 with the break of day, and in the calmness 
 of a despairing mind, finished some prepar- 
 atory and necessary arrangements. Em)ly, 
 in^ wakefid solicitude, urged his speedy re- 
 turn, and fearful of arousing suspicion in 
 her mind, he tore himself away in haste, 
 and with unmeaning plausibility promised 
 every thing she wished. 
 
 When Dorville received Fitsmorton^s 
 letter, the svords, " our secret then is dis- 
 covered," fell from his lips : he read it again, 
 and his astonishment at the severity it ex- 
 pressed, redoubled. When Dorville left 
 England, Fitsmorton had lent him a con- 
 siderable sum of money : circumstances had 
 certainly prevented a prompt, or punctual 
 payment ; but now returned as he was, high 
 in military reputation, with a large and in- 
 dependent fortune, by the unexpected death 
 of an uncle, from whose interest he had 
 been induced to go to India, now that he 
 had it in his power to account for former 
 remissness, and to repay his friend with 
 hearl-felt gratitude. How repulsive to his 
 feelings was the hostile tenor of Fitsmor- 
 ton's letter ! But deliberation was of little 
 avail, he would meet him and endeavour 
 to conciliate all matiers. 
 7* 
 
74 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Overpowered with the tenderest emo- 
 tions, D.orville approached the appointed 
 place, and in tremulous agitation, he ex- 
 claimed, when he saw his friend, " and is 
 it thus we meet, Fitsmorton ?" 
 
 Fitsmorton, who construed his faltering- 
 accents and trepidation of manner into con- 
 scious guilt, replied, " Dorville, 1 refer you 
 to the contents of my letter, 1 can only re- 
 peat, that recrimination is useless/' 
 
 " Will you not hear my justification ?" 
 
 " Justification ! deliberate hypocrite ! 
 confession would better suit thy present 
 state; but this is no time for parlying, eve- 
 ry thing is arranged. The exigency of our 
 case must wave the ceremony of being at- 
 tended by seconds/' 
 
 *' Fitsmorton, I cannot fight you ; an- 
 swer me some important questions." 
 
 " I cannot hold converse with the man 
 from whom 1 have received such unmerit- 
 ed injuries." 
 
 " One moment more for deliberation." 
 
 " Cowards only can deliberate." 
 
 " Have a care, Fitsmorton ; and do I live 
 to hear this from you ?" 
 
 " Mean pitiful coward ! for he who could 
 steal the affections of a virtuous woman, 
 and plunge her into misery is unworthy the 
 name of man. You now understand me, 
 Dorville." 
 
1 THE FATAL CABINET. 75 
 
 i *'^ On my soul, I do not ; I cannot raise 
 imy arm against the " 
 
 Fitsiiuorton interrupted him, " no eva- 
 sion, sir ! Your character disgraces hu- 
 manity." 
 
 *' On the honour of a soldier, you are 
 wronsT, Fitsmorton." 
 
 " Hypocrite !" 
 
 " By heaven ! this is beyond endurance/' 
 
 Fitsmorton, hurried by impetuosity of 
 spirit, continued the language of defiance, 
 jivvithout expressing in plainer terms the 
 cause of his resentment, and again urging 
 IDorville beyond forbearance, the latter 
 "eould not brook such repeated insults, and 
 they fired. — They both fell. Fitsmorton 
 'fainted from a violent effusion of blood. — 
 'Dorville thought he was gone for ever ! 
 The surgeon and his assistant soon afford- 
 ed relief. — Dorville had the power to say, 
 •' oh Fitsmorton, why didst thou tempt thy 
 fate ?" then perceiving in him a gleam of 
 returning life, he added, "• whilst recollec- 
 tion is left me, let us exchange forgiveness ; 
 f I die, tell your dear si"ster, tell my belov- 
 ed Mary — " He could explain no farther, 
 md Fitsmorton, though unable to answer 
 With coherence, felt a conviction of the 
 ;ruth flash upon his bewildered senses; he 
 groaned, and faintly ejaculated, " my sis- 
 .ler r 
 
%% THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Here the surgeon interfered ; Dorville 
 was taken care of, and Fits morion in a 
 senseless state conveyed to liis own iiouse. 
 
 Etnily had arisen in the morning, suffer- 
 ing from the real anguish of her heart, yet 
 determined to exert every effort of forti- 
 tude to support her [iusban(i under his pre- 
 sent distresses. She shrunk not from the 
 painful task, nor feared to encounter any 
 change of circumstances, provided he did 
 not give way to. despondency, by feeling 
 too acutely the follies and imprudencies he 
 had been guilty of. " By degreees, (said 
 she,)-! will endeavour to reconcile him to » 
 the def)rivation of every accustomed luxu- \ 
 ry ; I will lead him back to domestic hap- 
 piness, which surely is independant of any 
 local circumstance, or ambitious pursuits/* 
 
 The breakfast things were just removed, 
 and Emily continuing her mental reveries, 
 exclaimed, " how unlucky, that my poor 
 Edward is now obliged to be from home, 
 when I have a thousand plans to propose 
 for our future corftfort ; but how shall we 
 break this sad change in our affairs to dear 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton 1 How will Mary and her, 
 husband sympathize with us all." 
 
 Then recollecting that Fitsmorton had! 
 assured her the business lie had to trans- 
 act would engage him but an hour or twoJ 
 she determined to await his return as pa-j 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 77 
 
 tiently as possible. She wished for her 
 1 friend Miss Travers, who with Mr. Macart- 
 ny was staying at AltVed Granby's house, 
 but on- a momenl^s coiisidt ration, her re- 
 grets appeared too selfish to be indulged in, 
 as Mary was hourly expecting to be con- 
 fined,, and Miss Travers had always pro- 
 mised to be with her at the expected peri- 
 od. She intended to write to them, but 
 dreaded any imprudent communication 
 •might unexpectedly reach* Mrs. Granby. 
 
 Proper accommodation and assistance 
 iwere procured for Captain Dorville, and 
 the surgeon attended Fitsmorton home. 
 Emil}' heard an unusual bustle in the hail. 
 rrhe surgeon learning that his apparently 
 dying patient Vvas a married man, hastened 
 mp the stairs to prcpa-e his wife for the 
 ldi3tres:^ing scene. Emily at the same mo- 
 ment opened the c^ rawing- room door, and 
 matching the sound of an agonising groan, 
 was rushing out of the room, had not the 
 ?urgeon resolutely prevented her, till he 
 had related the mournful tale, ^e neither 
 »pf)ke nor wept, but escaping from her hu- 
 mane infwrmer, she met in one instant the 
 Hreadful sight, and earnestly entreated that 
 10 one would attend to her, but give every 
 possible assistance to her beloved husband. 
 His eyes were sometimes vacantly fixed, 
 and sometimes closed, as if for ever. When 
 
78 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 every thing was arranged, as much as pos- 
 sible, for his convenience and comfort, she 
 requested the surgeon^s opinion ; he told 
 her, after a necessary opt^ration, he should 
 be a better judge, but that at present, he 
 did not apprehend any immediate danger. 
 
 Etndy family repeated, " immediate dan- 
 ger." The ball was extracted, and hopes 
 were pronounced of her husband's recovery. 
 He called upon her name ; oj)pressed na- 
 ture could no longer be restrained ; she 
 fainted in thearuss of her attendants. W hen 
 she recovered, Mrs. Filsmorton became her 
 great anxiety; — how shoidd she break this 
 sad event to her? Something she knew 
 must be decided upon, and fortunately at 
 this moment Dr. Leicester, who was mak- 
 iniJ:one of his accustomed visits to London, 
 knocked at Fitsmorton's door. When he 
 heard from the servants the situation of the 
 family, he wrote upon his card ihe follow- 
 ing words, and desired it might be given 
 to Mrs. Fitsmorton : " Can y<ni see your 
 sympathising friend ?" She ordered him to 
 be admitted immediately ; their mourni'ul 
 meet i no- may easily be imagined : common- ■, 
 place arguments of consolatiim were not i 
 offered on one side, nor useless and des- 
 pairing- lamentations repeated on the other. 
 He wished to remain in the house, and to 
 prolong his stay in town ; Emily gratefully 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 79 
 
 accepted the propositions She then ex- 
 pressed her anxiety abou't Mrs. Jbitsinor- 
 ton, and Dr. Leicester undertook the pain- 
 ful task ot breaking- the sad intelligence to 
 her. 
 
 After endeavourin:;- to give every possi- 
 ble considation to Liniiy, he said ; " 1. will 
 go to Mrs. Fitsinxrion direcllx, my dt^ar 
 chUd ; and do you return to the pill(jfvv of 
 your unfortunate hus!»and. — Heaven urant 
 he may yet he spared to you ; and that this 
 dark cloud may quickly pass away. It is 
 indeed a bitter triaL' the God of all com- 
 Ifort be your support !" 
 
 By Dr. Leicester's kind and considerate 
 attentions, Mrs. Fitsmorton received the 
 afflictive news with tolerable coujposure. 
 She would return with him to Emjiy, and 
 ; after the first violent emotions ai seeing 
 !her son in such a situation, she exerted 
 (every elfort to soothe and assist Emily, in 
 I her painful attendance. 
 
 Towards theevenino-, Fitsmorton became 
 idejirious, and danger was apprehended 
 ;fr()m the increase of his fever; the late irri- 
 itable state of his mind, and the irregular 
 ilife he had led, contributing much to every 
 unfavourable symptom : he talked of Alfud 
 Granby, and of a letter of importance, of a 
 aiiiniatiire, and freciuently called upon his 
 }sister i\n' an explanation of the mystery. 
 
M THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 Poor Emily listened in fearfnl sorrow; and 
 when he, vviih apparent rationality, earnest- 
 ly entreated her forgiveness lor all his neg- 
 lect, calling her his love, his injured Emily, 
 she was often obliged to leave the room, 
 in uncontrouiable distress and sorrow. 
 
 When she understood from the medical i 
 attendants, that Dorville was the name of 
 her husband's adversary, nothing could ex- 
 ceed her asronishment. She had heard his 
 death spoken of, and lamented by all the 
 family ; long before Mary Fitsmorton be- 
 came Mrs. Granby ; and had ever heard 
 him mentioned with almost enthusiastic 
 regard and friendship. The next day, when 
 she was consulting with Dr. Leicester on 
 the propriety of sending an express to Al- 
 fred Granby, he arrived in town, in conse- 
 quence of the letter he had received from ■ 
 Fitsmorton. Dorville's danger hourly en- 
 creased, but his senses were not afl'ected ; 
 and when he h^mrd of Dr. Leicester's inti- 
 macy in the Fitsmorton family, he expres- 
 sed an earnest wish to see him. Dr. Lei- 
 cester willingly assented ; and Dorville, as 
 well as his condition would permit, en- 
 quired, with tremulous impatience, after 
 the whole f;imilv, not even knowing of the 
 death of ihe first Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton ; 
 and when he learnt that Mary had long 
 been married, the agitation he experienced 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 91 
 
 brought on an alarmirfg faintness, from 
 which he was with difficulty recovered. 
 Dr. Leicester in vain advised him to defer 
 farther conversation, but he only answered : 
 " What would be hurtful to the sick, could 
 not atfect the dying man. Fain would I 
 learn by what strange infatuation the man 
 whom 1 loved and considered as a brother, 
 met me as his bitterest foe ? How unfortu- 
 nate were the circumstances which have 
 precluded a reciprocal communication, and 
 my death appearing properly authentica- 
 ted, has doubtless been the cause of Mary 
 Fitsmorton^s marriage. — 1 do not now wish 
 to Jive." 
 
 Dr. Leicester endeavoured to tranquil- 
 lize his mind. 
 
 " You argue, Sir, as you ought to do ; 
 but mysterious indeed are the ways of hea- 
 ven ! How ardently have I anticipated the 
 moment ot" arrival in my native land. I did 
 arrive in health and safety ; and instead of 
 clasping to my faithful bosom the lovely 
 object of my hearths first attachment, I was 
 n compelled to meet hostilely her brother, 
 |imv dearest friend ; and this circumstance, 
 5had she not effectually barred our union, 
 would probably have separated us for ever ! 
 Sir, 1 am reconciled to death. I would 
 only know the motives of Fitsmorton's con- 
 duct. — Married again, say you I" 
 
 VOL. II. 8 
 
S2 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 In vain Dr. Leicester entreated him t© 
 cease every heart-rending enquiry ; he 
 would continue. 
 
 " Tell me, dear Sir, is the present Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton worthy to be the successor of 
 an angel ? And is my Mary happily mar- 
 ried ?" 
 
 A contrariety of feelings agitated his 
 frame, when Dr. Leicester answered in the 
 affirmative. 
 
 " 1 cannot die in peace, (Dorville contin- 
 ued,) unless I am acquainted with the in- 
 fatuation which has misled Fitsmorton ; he 
 is of a noble and generous nature, and could 
 not wantonly have sported, either with 
 his own lite, or with mine." 
 
 Dr. Leicester promised he should have 
 every satisfactory account he required ; 
 and then urged him to endeavour to gain 
 some fiegree of composure. 
 
 " My dear Sir, (he answered) I am com- 
 posed. I know that I cannot live many 
 davs. 1 am resigned to the will of hea- 
 ven r 
 
 The resignatior and fortitude of Dorville 
 much interested Dr. Leicester in his fate ; 
 he left him to investigate the cause of ihe 
 duel, saying, as he arose to depart : " May 
 the Almighty con>inue to you his gracious 
 support; and remember, my dear Sir, that 
 a good conscience renders every evil sup- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. S? 
 
 portable, and that your awful situation 
 loses every terror, from the soul's resting on 
 the x\lmighty with humble hope and con- 
 fidence. Depend upon seeing me again as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 When Alfred Granby received Fitsmor- 
 ton's letter and packet, he was enjoying the 
 comforts of a social domestic circle. Miss 
 Travers was endeavouring to enliven the 
 drooping spirits of Mrs. Granby; playfully 
 anticipating the arrival of a young stranger, 
 who would put to flight all melancholy 
 ideas. Mr. Macartny and. Granby were 
 deeply engaged in a game of chess, and 
 heeded not the entrance of a servant, till he 
 put the packet into his master's hands. — 
 " Good heaven ! (Mary exclaimed,) it is 
 my brother's hand-writing. Dear Alfred, 
 quickly open it, something of consequence 
 must have occurred." 
 
 He opened the packet, and the miniature 
 falling from it, Mary, without waiting for 
 her husband's answer, whether she should 
 unfold it, tore off the envelope, and beheld 
 the miniature of Dorville ! At this instant 
 Granby finding the contents of his letter 
 very serious, took up a candle, and went 
 into his study. 
 
 Mary gave a faint scream, and became 
 insensible to all around her ; when she re- 
 covered, she desired to be assisted to her 
 
»4 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 own apartment; but all the tender enquir- 
 ies of Miss Truvers could not j)ro(:ure troni 
 her any explanation on the subject. VV hen 
 Granby had read the letter, he came into 
 ]Mary^s dressing- room ; and asked her for 
 the miniature. Pale and trembling she 
 pointed to the table. And when he con- 
 siderately prepared her for the necessity of 
 his setting- out immediately for London, she 
 hurst into tears. 
 
 " Your brother is ill, ray dear Mary, be 
 assured that no trifling circumstance should 
 induce me to leave you." 
 
 " 1 entreat you, Alfred, (she wildly an- 
 swered,) to let me read the contents of that 
 packet." 
 
 " Had you not better, my love, wait till 
 I return ? You shall hear from me the mo- 
 ment I arrive in town." 
 
 J' No, no," was all she could articulate. 
 ' He entreated her to be composed. 
 
 " I will indeed be composed, but I am 
 sure Edward is very ill, perhaps he is dead ! 
 and merciful heaven ! how came that mi- 
 niature in his possession ?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid, Mary, that your bro- 
 ther should be dead ! And are you sure, 
 my love, you can now hear of his perplexi- 
 ties, his misfortunes, with proper compo- 
 sure and fortitude ?" 
 
 ^\- Alfred, think what I should sufler. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 85 
 
 were you to leave me in this state of sus- 
 pense." 
 
 " Tiien arm yourself, my clearest life, 
 Avith resolution ; think how my happiness 
 depends upon you, and perhaps the exist- 
 ence of our expected treasure. Endeavour 
 to subdue all violent agitation, whilst you 
 peruse your brother's letter. Miss Travers 
 will remain with you. I must make a few 
 necessary arrangements for my immediate 
 departure;" and with repeated expressions 
 of solicit\ide and tenderness, he motioned 
 for Macariny to accompany him, and they 
 left the room together. 
 
 On returrJng to the dressing-room, they 
 found Mary fainting in the arms of her 
 friend. Granby was nearly distracted. To 
 leave her in so critical a situation was tor- 
 ture to her mind ! Fitsmorton perhaps dy- 
 ing ! or if he had escaped all danger from 
 the duel, to what depths of misery might 
 his feelings lead him ! He endeavoured to 
 assist in the recovery of Mary, who soon 
 assured him she was better — she was quite 
 well ; urged him to hasten to her brother ; 
 that the contents of his letter had indeed 
 affected her ; that he should hear of her al- 
 most as soon as he arrived in London ; 
 again, and again assurins: him that she felt 
 quite well. Her hurried accents and wild- 
 mess of manner at the same time contra- 
 « * 
 
SQ- THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 dieting the assurances her tongue uttered. 
 Much tender altercation on his part ensu- 
 ed, but. at length he tore himself away, and 
 was imuiediately on the road to Londr.n. 
 He travelled all night, and reached Fits- 
 morton's hoiise early on the following 
 morning. It may well be imagined with 
 what breathless impatience his first enquir- 
 ies were made, and with what emotions 
 he heard that Fitsmorton's fever had alarm- 
 ingly encreased, and that there was but 
 little hope of Dorville's recovery. Emily- 
 clung to him in speechless agony, as to 
 her husband's dearest friend ; loss of for- 
 tune, every thing now appeared trivial, 
 when put in competition with the idea of 
 his death. 
 
 Dr. Leicester and Mr. Granby conversed 
 for some time on the mnurntul subject, the 
 former repeating Dorville's incoherent ex- 
 pressions, which distressed and alarmed 
 Granby more than he chose to acknowl- 
 edge ; and when Dr. Leicester had read 
 Fitsmorton's letter, the look which they 
 exchanged spoke volumes to the heart of 
 each. 
 
 By the first post came the followina: let- 
 ter, from Mrs. Granby to her mother : — 
 
TOE FATAL CABINET 81 
 
 To Mrs, Fihmorton^ 
 "' My dearest mother, 
 
 " The feelings I experience at the idea 
 of confessing the reprehensible part I have 
 acted, can only proceed from the reflection 
 that I may soon quit this mortal liie, and 
 from my sincere and heart-felt repentance. 
 I milst briefly retrace the days which are 
 gone, I must wound your bosom by avow- 
 ing the duplicity of my conduct. 
 
 " My beloved mother! yon well remem- 
 ber D>rville's intimacy in our family. He 
 soon distina^uished me with peculiar reofard, 
 and by decrees our attachment became mu- 
 tual, but alas, hv- wanted the essential re- 
 couim nidation of my father ; he wanted for- 
 tune. Let the fascination "f his manners, 
 and the uncommon worth of his character, 
 excuse my partiality ; too soon we l'»ved 
 with all tlie enthusiasm of a first and vir- 
 tuous passion ; and but for my entreaties, 
 he would openly have confessed his love 
 for me to my father ; have braved bi'^ dis- 
 pleasure, and perhaps waited for haopier 
 prospects. In one of these tender expos- 
 tulation^, Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton unex- 
 pectedly surprised us ; for hitherto, even 
 she had been a stranger to our attachment. 
 In vain she talked of the imprtidence of my 
 eonduct, and with tears solicited me to dis- 
 
88 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 close our situation to you, my mother, and 
 to her husband ; we had hound her to se- 
 crecy. I was inexorable to her entreaties, 
 for 1 wished to save you uneasiness ; not 
 considering hovy my want of confidence 
 might eventually prove the cause of mu- 
 tual wretchedness. 
 
 " Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton, won by our 
 prayers and entreaties, against her better 
 judgment afforded Dorville every possible 
 opportunity of seeing me, and in her pre- 
 sence we often vowed everlasting love, and 
 enjoyed a short interval of happiness. The 
 sternness of my father's temper would at 
 times put to flight all visionary prospects 
 of felicity ; but the delusions of hope often- 
 er prevailed ; and we rested on each other's 
 faith, vi^ith every presage of being one day 
 happily united. 
 
 " At length Dorville was obliged to in- 
 form me of his destination to India; the 
 pangs which then rent my bosom never 
 were forgotten. Flis tenderness when in- 
 flicting the stroke, and his own suppressed 
 emotions, have ever been alike remember- 
 ed. Just at this period, a temporary sepa- 
 ration gave rise to a fatal mistake ; and 
 hence the custom of havins: my letters di- 
 rected to Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton. Fie 
 had long promised me his picture, and by 
 some unavoidable delay, it was not finished 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. gg 
 
 till after we had taken our last distressing 
 farewell, and he then sent it, acconipanied 
 by a few lines to me, under cover to my 
 friend. She received it, I have little doubt, 
 I on the very day she was so suddenly seiz- 
 ed with the alarmin<^ irlness ; and having 
 safely locked it in her cabnu^t, siie never 
 [had an opportunity ofspeakingto me alone, 
 I till the delirium of her senses forbade all 
 rational communication. 1 attributed my 
 not receiving' the miniature to every cause 
 Ibut the right. But it was long a great 
 i source of disappointment. 
 I "Error is sometimes punished in this 
 ilife. What hours of misery I endured af- 
 Iter Dorville\s departure ! Many a wakeful 
 night have I passed listening to the wind ; 
 and in supplicating the Almighty to bless 
 I and to preserve him. How often have I 
 oljserved you watch in silence every turn 
 of ray countenance, attributing to indispo- 
 sition my apparent languor, which only 
 i proceeded from the wretched state of my 
 mind. 
 
 7 ' ** I erroneously termed my resolutions of 
 secrecy a proper firmness of temper ; and 
 II determined to await, in romantic despair, 
 some change of my wretched destiny.— 
 'Ever enthusiastic in my attachments, Mrs. 
 Edward Fitsmorton's death was a severe 
 -and bitter stroke. Sweet soul ! the tender- 
 
90 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 ness of her nature had yielded to the indul- v 
 gence of my wishes, against the conviction \ 
 of her deliberate judgment. That I should] 
 have been the means of tarnishing her fair 
 fame in the eyes of my beloved brother! — 
 That I should have caused him to risk his 
 life in an imaginary resentment Merci- 
 ful Heaven ! My senses are, at this mo- 
 ment, so bewildered, that no expected bo- 
 dily sufferings can equal the sufferings of 
 my mind ! My brother — or Dorville — may 
 be what would I say ? Oh my mo- 
 ther' ^ ^ ^ ^ * ^ ^ ^ ^ '^ 
 
 " I am now calmer — I must proceed, 
 whilst strength is lent me for the painful 
 task. 
 
 " When Mrs. Edward Fitsmorton died, 
 I more unrestrainedly wept the sorrows of 
 my heart ; and though your dear bosom ap- 
 peared the safest, surest refuge, the dread 
 of my father being made acquainted with 
 our attachment, withheld every proper con- 
 fidence in your indulgence. I never heard 
 from Di^rville. Loving him as I did, ideas 
 the most absurd and romantic haunted my 
 imagination ; but the thought of his pre- 
 meditated neglect or infidelity never enter- 
 ed my mind. 
 
 " When Emily was introduced into our 
 family, she appeared the counter-part of the 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. gi 
 
 friend I had so truly mourned ; and, at this 
 jperiod, had not the report of Dorville's 
 (death been fatally received, I think I should 
 Jhave entrusted her with my distressing 
 perplexities ; but 1 soon determined to bu- 
 ry in silence my duplicity and affliction. 
 
 " What ] suftered at his supposed death 
 can now little avail to dwell upon! nor 
 dare 1 investigate my present feelings. 
 Granby deserves a happier fate ! 
 
 " In every altercation which passed be- 
 tween Edward and my father, 1 rejoiced 
 that 1 had not subjected myself to similar 
 uneasiness, for I well kn6vv nothing could 
 induce him to approve of my attachment 
 to Dorville, on account of his profession 
 and of his want of fortune. 
 
 " On my brother's marriage, something 
 like cheerfulness visited my mind ; for 1 
 loved Emily with the fondest affection. And 
 now came the bitterest trial — the hardest 
 
 to endure ! Alfred Granb}' offered me 
 
 his hand and heart. You know, dearest 
 mother, how strangely I appeared to receive 
 his addresses ! H'uv I evaded them till ex- 
 cuses were useless : 1 knew my father would 
 oblige me to many him ; for fortune, con- 
 nexions, character, on Granby^s part, were 
 ull unexceptionable. 
 
 " I requested lime for consideration. — I 
 told him, and Heaven knows 1 told him 
 
as THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 truly ! that there was no man living I pre- 
 ferred to him. He attributed my repug- 
 nance to timidity. He gave me his whole 
 heart, whilst mine, alas! was buried in the 
 grave with Dorvilie! 
 
 " Dear Gran by ! My mother ! I dare not 
 write to him ! but do you leil him every 
 thing. Oh tell him, also, that his tender- 
 ness of conduct, his many virtues What 
 
 would 1 add ? D*>rviile, or my brother 
 
 may have already become the victim ot my 
 folly ! And then could there exist such a 
 Vt^retch as the wife of Granby i.Wife ! did I 
 say ? — almost a mother ! 
 
 " The chaos of my mind no longer per- 
 mits me to dwell on the subject.' Were 
 
 you now with me ! But, be prepared 
 
 for the worst which can happen. I have 
 had such strange feelings since the dread- 
 ful shock 
 
 '' Fray tell Granby 1 cannot write to 
 him : and, if 1 leave him a daughter 
 
 "Adieu, my mother! 1 'can no 
 
 more 
 
 " Mary Granby.^' 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmortoii received the above let- 
 ter just as the afflicted party had partaken 
 of a mournful l^reakfast. The variation of 
 her countenance was observed by all ; and 
 Granby requested to know, with great agi- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 93 
 
 tation, if the packet contained a letter for 
 him. Mrs. Filsmorion, knowing- that any 
 concealment was not practicable, answered, 
 " Dear Alfred, there is no other letter. 
 Mary is at present well ; and, as Edward 
 appears rather better, 1 mean to set out 
 immediately for your house." 
 
 She hesitated ; and Granby becoming 
 uncontroulably agitated, said, " He was 
 sure Mary was ill ; he would accompany 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton, to satisfy himself as to 
 her real situation, and then return imme- 
 diately with Macartnyto London." "But 
 do, dear madam, tell me !" he continued, 
 " is Mary still up ! or are we disappointed 
 of our dearest hopes! I can bear any thing', 
 j provided my wife is doing well. She may 
 Ihave prematurely suffered from the shock 
 (ofEdvvard's letter. For God's sake dear- 
 lest mother, speak to me! your silence is 
 imost dreadful !" 
 
 '- Mrs. Fitsmorton put the letter into Dr> 
 ^Leicester's hands, and recommended Gran- 
 by to retire with him for the perusal, ad- . 
 dinjT, " My dear Alfred, be lenient — be pa- 
 tient — Mary is still your wife." 
 
 VV^ith tremulous anxiety he followed Dr. 
 Leicester into the library. Granby scarce- 
 y breathed, from the excess and contraries 
 y of his feelings; but, covering his eyes 
 vith his hands, and leaning over the Doc- 
 
 ^ VOL. II. 9 
 
 r 
 
94 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 tor's chair, he listened in mournful silence 
 to the contents of INlary^s letter. W hen 
 Dr. Leicester had concluded, Granby ex- 
 claimed, '•■ And this is the being 1 have 
 cherished as the solace of my existence ? 
 Great God, how 1 have loved her V' 
 
 " Endeavour to compose yourself, my 
 dear Sir; Mrs. Granby must be the great- 
 est sufferer, because self-reproach will in- 
 trude upon her mind. Consider the con- 
 solaiion and attentions she now requires. 
 She has acttd \vr»')ngly in some insiances, 
 but not designedly." 
 
 '* No one can forin a just idea of my pre- 
 sent lieelings. Fear not, good Dr. Leices- 
 ter, from me any rigorous proceedings. Un- 
 happy misguided Maiy ! 
 
 "Sir, you know not how I prized the 
 fancied treasurfe of her heart ! What a cri- 
 tical time is this for her to endure such 
 agitation of mind ! Fly, dear Sir, and ex- 
 pedite Mrs. Fitsmorton's departure. Me- 
 thinks 1 shall be more at peace to know 
 that Mary rests on the bosom of her n>o- 
 ther. All my visionary happiness here lor 
 ever ends !" 
 
 " Recollect, dear Sir, that Mrs. Granby 
 is innocent of any intentional evil ; and 
 that, though unforlunate circumstances have 
 occurred, her mind lias ever been the seat 
 of purity." 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. ©3 
 
 " Ob yes, all this do I remember. I al- 
 so remember her frequent dejection of spir- 
 its. Can it be possible ihat 1 have only 
 grasped the shadow of happiness ! — Too 
 well, too well, can i now account for that 
 cold timidity of manner which would have 
 declined my addresses ; and which, since 
 our marriage, has only been conquered by 
 reason and duty. 
 
 " You must i>o aionf* to the unfortunate 
 Dt^rville; I can never see him more." 
 
 Dr. Leicester promised every thing pos- 
 sible^ for his satisfacticn, and deemed it 
 wise to leave him to himself for a short 
 time. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton was soon on the road 
 to her dauohter ;. and Dr. Leicester kept 
 his appointment with the uniortunate Dor- 
 vilje. 
 
 It were unnecessary here to dwell on the 
 many unpleasant scenes which passed in 
 respect to money affairs. Creditors were 
 poiirins? in their accounts from every quar- 
 ter. Debts of honour, and debts of dis- 
 honour, from the money-lending tribe, pro- 
 claimed the ruined situation of Fitsmorton's 
 affairs, wlio lay insensible to the miseries 
 and perplexities with which he was sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 Dr. Leicester's interview with Dorviile 
 was solemn and affecting. A mortification 
 
qS the fatal cabinet. 
 
 was expected ; and he felt his end approach- 
 ing : the faculties of his mind were clear 
 and unimpaired ; and he drew from Dr. 
 Leicester a circumstantial account of eve- 
 ry distressing event. 
 
 He wept when he spoke of Mary, and 
 pathetically lamented the situation of her 
 brother. 
 
 " But tell him, Sir," he continued, " that 
 I probably should have acted as he has 
 done, under the same circumstances and 
 provocations : tell him, with my dying 
 
 breath, 1 forgive 1 love him." Then 
 
 pausing a few moments, he exclaimed, 
 " But what consolation can be aftbrded to 
 Mary ? She was my first, my only love ! 
 She will sink under this trial : yet she is 
 the wife of another ! So well do 1 know 
 her heart, that, being the primary cause of 
 my death, and perhaps of her brother's, it 
 will overwhelm her with such despair, that 
 life to her can hardly be desirable." 
 
 " VYe must leave the issue of events," 
 replied Dr. Leicester, " to a wise, to a ne- 
 ver-failing Providence. If the trial is great, 
 the strength of God, operating on the hu- 
 man mind, will still be greater. Errors 
 abjured and repented of, will, sooner or la- 
 ter, bestow peace on the truly-penitent." 
 
 Dorville was exhausted: he could only 
 say, " To speak peace to the troubled soul, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 97 
 
 and to promise the reward of true repen- 
 tance, proclaim your godlike mission ; trust 
 me I will yet be revenged/' 
 
 Dr. Leicester was about to deprecate the 
 idea of revenge ; but the unfortunate suf- 
 ferer had tainted. Attributing, therefore, 
 the expressions to a temporary delirium, 
 he left Dorville in the care of Felix, a faith- 
 ful black servant, and sent immediately for 
 medical advice, intending to return again 
 as soon as opportunity offered. 
 
 Fitsmorton^s fever abated ; the wound 
 in his side wore a favourable appearance ; 
 and little danger was apprehended for his 
 life : but as his bodily sufferings lessened, 
 his mental sufferings increased, and a new 
 stroke of distress soon overwhelmed his 
 mind with unavailing remorse and deep 
 despair. He had insisted on being con- 
 veyed to Dorville's bed-side ; every thing 
 was arranged for the mournful interview ; 
 and Fitsmorton fancied he should feel more 
 composed when he had received the for- 
 giveness of his friend ; but alas ! this satis- 
 faction was forbidden ! Dorville breath- 
 ed his last in the arms of Dr. Leicester, on 
 the evening previous to the expected meet- 
 ins:. 
 
98 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton met her daughter 
 with emotions better felt than described. 
 She found her recovering from a serious 
 alarm of the approaching eventful hour. 
 Her self-accusations, the forgiveness she 
 solicited from her mother, lier dread of see- 
 ing Granby, and above all, the distressing- 
 anxiety she telt for the fate of her brother 
 and Dorville, excited Mrs. Fitsmorton's 
 tenderest sympathy ; and gave rise to every 
 sad apprehension for her safety. At length 
 the news arrived of Dorville's death, and of 
 the dreadful situation Fitsmorton was re- 
 duced to, from the remorse and despond- 
 ency of his aiind. Unfortunately the ser- 
 vant gave the letter to Mary, whilst Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton was making some family ar- 
 rangements ; and nothing could prevent her 
 being made acquainted with its contents, 
 which occasioned such violent emotions, 
 that she was obliged to be conveyed to her 
 bed ; and after many hours of extreme dan- 
 ger and suffering, gave birth to a female in- 
 fant. She remained insensible to the new- 
 born blessing, and in a few days was lost 
 to all recollection. Poor Mrs. Fitsmorton, 
 who had supplicated heaven for her life, 
 now hung over her in speechless agony ; 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. g^ 
 
 and but for the exertions of Macartny and 
 Miss Travers, she musi have yielded to the 
 pressure of this afflicticn. Granbv, aroused 
 by Mary's alarming situation, and much 
 affected by the death ot D<m ville, left Lon- 
 don, and hastened home with proper medi- 
 cal assistance. When he beheld the child 
 of Miry, the child he had anticipated with 
 the fondest expectations of delight, his 
 emotions were uncontroulable. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton decided to remain with 
 her daughter, though nearly distracted 
 when reflecting on the critical situation of 
 her son. 
 
 Granby and Macartny hastened to Lon- 
 don. Fitsmorton had relapsed, and they 
 encountered scenes equally mournful and 
 distressiijg. Emily bore her part in them 
 with every sense of the acutest feeling", 
 but generally with apparent resignation. — . 
 How often does the tale of fiction describe 
 scenes between the suffering patient and 
 the weeping friend ; neither are prayers and 
 exhortations wanting from the distressed 
 mother or affectionate wife, to console and 
 soothe the dear object apparentl}' on the 
 bed of death. Such heroism belonged not 
 to Emily ; in silence and in sorrow, she ad- 
 ministered to the wants of her husband, 
 and in silence and in sorrovv only, could 
 she lift up her heart to supplicate heaven 
 for his recovery. 
 
!•• THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 A few hours before Dorvi lie's death, he 
 requested to see Dr. Leicester, and putting 
 into his hands a sealed packet, gave it to 
 him, as his last vviil and testament. Little 
 conversation passed between them : his last 
 words were, " telJ Mary we shall meet in 
 heaven ! that 1 die in peace with all man- 
 kind;* that 1 die in the hope of tuture hap- 
 piness.^' 
 
 Dr. Leicester was endeavouring to per- 
 suade him to join in the prayers of the 
 church, but his approaching dissolution for- 
 bade every such exertion ; and after lying 
 for some time insensible to all around him, 
 he expired in the arms of Dr. Leicester. 
 
 Although the mercy of heaven be unli- 
 mited, this awful and impressive scene 
 spoke the inefficacy and folly of trusting to 
 a death-bed repentance ; when corporeal 
 vigour is fled, and the mind is sunk in list- 
 less apathy, from the sufferings of exhaust- 
 ed nature. 
 
 Df>rville's v/ill was opened, it consisted 
 of a verv few lines ; he divided his forrune 
 between Edward Fitsmorton, and the first 
 child of Mrs. Granby, if it were a female ; 
 if a son, and there were other children, the 
 property was to be equally divided amongst 
 them ; giving this reason for his wishes, 
 that if Mnry's eldest child proved to be a 
 girl, she might hereafter be united to Fits- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. JOI 
 
 miorton's eldest son. He provided com- 
 fortably for his black servant, Felix ; and 
 remembered Dr. Leicester, by requesting 
 Ihim to accept a valuable diamond ring. — 
 To Mrs. Fitsmorton and Emily, he left all 
 Ithe valuable presents he had intended for 
 Mary Fitsmorton. 
 
 This unfortunate young man gave the 
 earliest promise of every amiable quality 
 ■ithat could adorn and dignify hulnan na- 
 ture. Serious and rational pursuits ever 
 engaged his attention ; he possessed the 
 Igifts of genius and of i-ntellect. He was an 
 honour to the profession he had chosen, and 
 his example ever evinced, that bravery is 
 not incompatible with humanity. His un- 
 cle, who had long resided in India, always 
 gave him to understand, that his profession 
 must be his dependance. But with the 
 caprice incident to age and infirmity, or 
 from reasons useless to investigate, when 
 be died left Dorville sole heir to his im- 
 mense and accumulating property. To 
 Mary Fitsmorton, (the constant and belov- 
 ed object of his heart,) he now looked for- 
 ward, for the completion of his happy 
 prospects. Every obstacle to their union 
 appeared to be remo^'ed ; but the sanguine 
 anticipation of ideal bliss was fated never 
 to be realized ! 
 
 Fitsmorton was again pronounced out of 
 
103 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 danger. Yet nothing could tranquilise his 
 min:j, and the torture ot an accusino- con- 
 science seemed daily to increvise. His mur- 
 dered i'riend ! — his untortunate sister! so 
 haunted his imagination, that even Emily, 
 on whom his heart had lately rested with 
 the fondest alfection, could sometimes only 
 weep upon his bosom in tender despond- 
 ency. 
 
 Girmljy returned to Mrs. Fitsmorton to 
 endeavour to support her in the painful task 
 she was nnderi^oini^. And it was satisfac- 
 tory to he.u' troni every medical opinion, 
 that Mary would eventually be perfectly 
 restored to ht^r health and senses. The 
 child whom Emiiy had kindly sheltered in 
 her own nursery, in spite of every attention 
 and care, began alarmingly to decline. A 
 wet-nurse was deemed the only chance for 
 its vvell-cjoing; and at leng^th it was settled 
 that Catherine Walker, who was still the 
 joint care of Mrs. Fitsmorton and Emiiv, 
 should undertake the office. She had 
 brought into the world an infant, who lived 
 but a few days, and she gratefully became 
 the preserver of Granby's unfortunate child. 
 J Mrs. Fitsmorton answered some cruel 
 letters from her friends, and soon reconciled 
 all parties. This of course contributed to 
 give peace to Catherine's mind, who v\ hilst 
 she was thus respectably cherished and 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. io3 
 
 I protected, shudrlered with horror at the fate 
 i she iiad escaped, and formed every good 
 [! resolve to continue in the path of virtue, 
 I which she hud so providentially regained, 
 in due lime, Firsmorton recovered his 
 health, but the voice of conscience still 
 spoke daggers to his heart ; he dragged on 
 ' a joyless exiistence, and felt unworthy of the 
 ■ blessings which were again surrounding 
 j him. Proper care had been taken to settle 
 his afiairs, and he deterniined, by the most 
 i rigorous economy, to prevent his children 
 ; from teeling the etfects of his own repre- 
 i hensible conduct. He soon resolved to 
 ; leave London, to seclude himself in some 
 i retired part of the world, and to indulge in 
 ; the misery of his own reflections. He would 
 let FiisniMrton Park, he would not have it 
 restored to himself, as the gift of his mur- 
 dered friend; but when his child was of an 
 age to take possession of the estate, .it 
 should again be restored to the family. 
 Thus thought and reasoned Fitsmorton in 
 the hour of gloomy despondency ; and he 
 would frequently exclaim, when Emily en- 
 deavoured to soothe and re-assure his 
 mind : 
 
 "• And can you still follow the fate of 
 
 sijrh a wretch as I am ? Will you adminis- 
 
 i ter to a muid diseased, and relinquish all 
 
 ' the comtorts and pleasures of society, for 
 
104 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 one dead, for ever dead to all worldly in- 
 tercourse? J mpetuosity of feeling has un- 
 done me; 1 took into my hand the sword 
 of retribution, and most fatally has the point 
 recoiled upon my own bosom. Oh Emily, 
 the image of my murdered friend is ever 
 betore me !" 
 
 " Cease, dearest Edward, to encourage 
 such heart-breaking reflections. You were 
 misled by the deceptive evidence of un- 
 merited injuries. Wide is the mark between 
 deliberate guilt, and thoiv.iOrs incidental 
 to human nature, I now feel too acutely 
 to arrange my ideas on this sad subject. I 
 trust 1 shall soon be more composed to 
 speak comfort to your soul ; but of this be 
 assured, we are bound by one fate, and that, 
 whilst existence is allowed me, it is only 
 ol value for your dear sake." 
 
 " Emily, 1 then derive one cordial drop 
 in the hitter cup of life, from your tender 
 sympathy. What blessings have I thrown 
 away, what mercies have 1 slighted !'' 
 
 Every thing was soon arranged for their 
 removal from London, and a cottage in 
 S'Hith Wales was to become their future 
 residence. And as every species of afflic- 
 tion imagines that change of scene, and 
 chan2:e of objects, will prove a salutary re- 
 lief, Fitsmorton hailed his departure from 
 London in gloomy and abstracted silence ; 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 105 
 
 he fancied that the wild scenery of nature 
 would accord with the feelings of his heart; 
 where, secluded from every human eye, he 
 could mourn over his past follies, in all the 
 luxury of undisturbed reflection. 
 
 Dr. Leicester saw, with regret, how 
 much he was the victim of erroneous feel- 
 inofs and sentiments. That instead of hum- 
 bling himself before the God he had offend- 
 ed, in unaffected penitence of spirit, he 
 was treasuring up the remembrance of his 
 disappointments and follies ; and with una- 
 vailing impatience reprobating the infatu- 
 ation which has misled him. 
 
 When the novelty of a secluded situa- 
 tion has passed away, Fitsmorton's mind 
 again sunk in listless apath\', or criminal 
 despair. He sometimes absented himself 
 from the family for whole days together; 
 he felt himself a proscribed and isolated 
 being ; and there were moments, when, to 
 relieve himself from the burthen of exist- 
 ence, appeared to be the only refuge from 
 the" misery which consumed him. A 
 twelvemonth passed, and his mind was still 
 the prey of unav^ailing remorse. Dr. and 
 Mrs. Leicester were the only .visitors re- 
 ceived at the cottage. Dr. Leicester 
 watched in silence every movement of the 
 unhappy Fitsmorton, and had hitherto per- 
 ceived no alteration in his ideas for the 
 
 VOL. n. 10 
 
io6 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 better. But Dr. Leicester did not give up 
 the case as hopeless ; and in answer to one 
 of his long argumentive letters, Fitsmorton 
 wrote as follows. 
 
 To Dr. Leicester. 
 
 *' In vain, my dear Sir, you preach resig- 
 nation and hope, to such a being as 1 am ; 
 all is chaos and confusion within my mind. 
 1 look upon this world with despair, and 
 on the next with doubt and anxiety. \ou 
 too well know by what progressive steps I 
 arrived at the summit of folly. Repent- 
 ance and resolution might have retrieved 
 my fortune and my peace; but where, oh 
 ■where is the lenient balm which can assuage 
 the stings of conscience, proceeding from 
 the guilt of having deprived a fellow -crea- 
 ture of existence! a fellow-creature who 
 was once my heart's bosom friend, whose 
 welfare and happiness were dear to me as 
 my own ! What can 1 say of my uMbaj)py 
 sister! how wide extends the afflicti(.n of 
 which, too truly alas, she was the primary 
 cause ;* a cause which originated in timid 
 apprehension of the austerity of a parent. 
 But 1 will not reflect on the memory of 
 one, whose uncongenial nature to ihe do- 
 mestic hahits of his family procluded the 
 possibility of a reciprocal confidence. My 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 107 
 
 poor mother! Sir, you know not half her 
 excellencies ; nor what she has siitfered 
 from the delicate sensibilities of her nature 
 being little understood, and never appre- 
 ciated. To her counsels, even from my 
 boyish days, do 1 attribute the little good 
 my mmd was ever blessed with ; and 1 tiave 
 now so pierced her heart, that on this side 
 the grave the wound can never know a 
 cure. As to my wife, ihf angelic being 
 who smiles whdst her heart is rent with 
 despair, wtio endeavours resolutely to com- 
 bat the gloomy temper of my soul, and 
 would share and soothe my every woe, 
 Avhat shall 1 say of her? Alas ! I know her 
 suiieriugs, and though my heart swell to 
 agony at the thought, I feel the inijjossi- 
 biliry of their abatement. Could my father 
 now witness my degradation, and her ex- 
 alted virtues; how would he reprobate 
 those false ideas whi(di were inimical to 
 our union ! She is now the only support of 
 my guilty and remorseless mind ; and per- 
 haps the grand tie which prevents the cord 
 of life from being voluntarily snapped 
 asunder. Why am I wretched in the bo- 
 stmi of my family ? Why do I only breathe 
 with freedom in the wild and unfrequented 
 paths of nature? The 'midnight hour of 
 m>^ iitation is the best solace of my feelings ; 
 the solitary owl, and the last sounds of a 
 
1U8 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 retiring world, the best companion and mu- 
 sic to my diseased imagination. The jar- 
 ring elements are more congenial to my na- 
 ture than the serenity of a summer's sky, 
 studded with a thousand evidences of an 
 unknown Almighty power. *" 
 
 " How shall 1 drag on a wretched exist- 
 ence ? How shall I silence the feelings of 
 remorse ? i am sometimes almost tempted 
 to wish that my ideas of right and wrong 
 were better suited to my situation, that 1 
 could regard with apathy the crime I have 
 committed, and baffie the scrutiny of a 
 misjudging world, by again mingling with 
 its gay inhabitants. The remedy must 
 eventually prove a successful one, or the 
 world could not boast such various exam- 
 pies of the triumph of guilt over the power 
 of conscience ; and whilst the successful 
 duellist is revelling in the smiles of pros- 
 perity, the crime of murder is onl}'' another 
 name for bravery. 
 
 " Had I even met poor Dorville upon 
 equal terms, there might be some extenua- 
 tion of my guilt. What avails my acquit- 
 tal at an earthly tribunal. No recording 
 angel can drop the tear of commiseration, 
 and blot out the remem.brance of such an 
 outrage to humanity. ****** 
 #* * * *"* ****** 
 
 " A cry of distress obliged me to leave 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 109 
 
 you yesterday, most abruptly ; our few ser- 
 vants all appeared in contusion. 1 mechan- 
 ically followed them into t4ie garden, or ra- 
 ther preceded them. By the side of a pond, 
 1 found my Emily in the attitude of despair, 
 just attem})ting to plunge into the water ; 
 I forcibly withheld her ; the nursery-maid 
 was in a fit on the grass, and froin little 
 Mary I soon learnt that her brother had 
 fallen into the pond. All this passed instan- 
 taneously, and before any one understood 
 the nature of the distress, I had jumped in- 
 to the pond and rescued my boy. A few 
 seconds more must have proved fatal, for 
 he was nearly exhausted. Emilv heroical- 
 ly exerted herself to restore the child ; and 
 when he gave siii;ns of returning life, she 
 threw herself into my arms, and could only 
 say, ' Heaven bless my husband, the pre- 
 server of his child !' 
 
 " The first tears I had shed for many> 
 many months, fell from my eyes ; my heart, 
 which had of late felt like a burning fire 
 within my bosom, appeared softened and 
 relieved, but of short duration was the new 
 and pleasing^ emotion ; a few hours restored 
 tranquillity to my family, but the an2:uisli 
 of my heart returned with redoubled bit- 
 terness. The mild but expressive eye of 
 E adv discovered what was passing in my 
 bosom, and 1 flew to my usual haunts of 
 10 * 
 
iio THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 meditation witii gloomy avidity, and spent 
 half the night in the indulgence of those 
 reflections so distressing and so unavailing. 
 ^Tis true 1 had been the means of saving 
 the life of my child ; — Nature at that mo- 
 ment resumed her rights, and 1 have since 
 kissed the velvet lips of innocence with all 
 a parent's love. But when I reflect that 
 the violence of youthful passions may lead 
 him to the paths of vice and folly, that he 
 may become as wretched a being as his fa- 
 ther,! am impious enough to doubt whether 
 his life 
 
 " ' 1 cannot finish the sentence 
 
 " Adieu, my friend. 
 
 " Edward Fitsmorton/* 
 
 J}r, Leicester's answer. 
 
 " Notwithstanding you say it is useless 
 to preach resignation and hope, I shall ne- 
 ver be weary of enforcing to you their salu- 
 tary eftects. In truth, my dear Sir, you are 
 like a man who having burned his hand, 
 voluntarily envelopes his whole body in the 
 devouring flame. I am well aware how 
 sore is the disease which afflicts your mind, 
 and, for its permanent cure, I must conti- 
 nue to probe the wound with the greatest 
 resolution. Your past conduct cannot be 
 excused — hardly palliated. You have err- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. lit 
 
 ed against reason, juds;iiient, and common 
 sense. You have outraged the laws of God 
 and man ; and what is the remedy you adopt 
 for these crying evils I You tly to oloomy 
 solitude ; and by cherisliing the selfish feel- 
 ings of remorse, by unmanly and vain re- 
 grets ; you waste those hours which a good 
 and gracious God has vouchsafed vou for 
 the great work of repentance. Had you 
 fallen instead of your friend, the decree 
 would certainly have appeared more, con- 
 sonant to human j<idgment; but, had you 
 fallen with all the weight of unrepented sins 
 and follies on your head, human judgment 
 could not limit your fate at the awful tri- 
 bunal of heaven ! Glance not at the dread- 
 ful idea of rushing self-devoted into the 
 presence of your Maker. Remember, Fits- 
 morton, that it is more frequently the refuge 
 of cowardice, than the result of any boasted 
 bravery of spirit ; and always doubles the 
 crimes and offences it seeks to tly from. 
 
 " Infatuated man ! shake off the despon- 
 dency which assails you ; and let repent- 
 ance lead you to the paths of peace. * The 
 midnight hour of meditation, rhe solitary 
 owl, and the jarring elements,' may suit 
 the feelings of a romantic or imaginary af- 
 fliction ; but when did this mockery of vain 
 sensibility, produce one emotion of s^enu- 
 ine piety ; or call forth that sincere, but 
 
112 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 heart-rending expression of, ' God be mer- 
 ciful to me a sinner !^ You contemplate 
 the stormy heavens with a sickly and un- 
 thankful miij(i, or su certain an evidence of 
 the unlimited power of God would check 
 every presumptuous idea, and encourage 
 the feelings ot religious hope, through faith 
 and resignation. 
 
 " Could you regard with apathy and in- 
 difference the tollies you have been guilty 
 of, could you still contribute to the idle pa- 
 geantry of an hour, and stifle remorse under 
 the mask of gaiety, 1 should, indeed, con- 
 sider yours as a very hopeless case; but 
 you still would cling to virtue and recti- 
 tude ; only, you have fatally mistaken their 
 path. Remember that sins, deep in their 
 dye as scarlet, by repentance become whit- 
 er than snow ; and that the great author 
 of redemption came not in the world to de- 
 stroy, but to save sinners ! 
 
 *' You confess that your mother's heart 
 is pierced wjth tnany sorrows, and how do 
 you endeavour to alleviate her unmerited 
 affliction? By estranginaj yourself from her 
 society, by forcing her to believe that th.e 
 son, on whom she once rested for comfort 
 and protection, is for ever an alien to his 
 familv, and to all the social and tlomestic 
 duties of life ; by convincing her that your 
 past conduct has been too atrocious to me- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 113 
 
 rit the forgiveness of heaven ; and that you 
 are the seif-devoted victim of unparalleled 
 guilt. To your amiable wife you act with 
 still more unpardonable cruelty. 1 have 
 often watched, with a parent's eye, the va- 
 rious emotions of her apprehensive mind, 
 i'itsmorton, she loves you so truly, that 
 much, 1 fear, her tender frame cannot long 
 support such a life of care and anxiety. 
 
 " Return then, my dear deluded friend, 
 to social and domestic comforts, in the 
 plan you have adopted, you have not gain- 
 ed one step towards peace ; try the active 
 duties of life, and h)se the remembrance of 
 your own affliction, in adding to the com- 
 fort and happiness of others. Return to 
 FitsmortOH Park, and let rational employ- 
 ments and pursuits supersede the rant of 
 despair, and- the ebullitions of transitory 
 remorse. Tell me not that this is impos- 
 sible, that your heart is impenetrable to 
 every feeling of humanity ; for I have sedu- 
 lously marked how you endeavour to sup- 
 press the tenderness of your nature, and 
 to encourage every misanthrophic habit. 
 Your having been the means of restoring 
 your child to life, must prove a lasting 
 source of comfort ; by your own confession, 
 the feelings of the father then prevailed 
 over the affectation of the cynic ; and btit 
 
n4 ' THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 for their deliberate suppression, would have 
 been ot permanent duration. 
 
 " Oh that 1 could persuade you to hum- 
 ble yourself before Him, in whose hands 
 are the issues of life and death ! So shall 
 the devout confessions of the penitent chris- 
 tian sustain the spirit (^f erring luurjanity, 
 and he that said, ' if you have sinned, sin 
 no more,' be ever wiiling to balance mercy 
 against the scale of justice. Let me en- 
 treat you to search the scriptures. \oii 
 are, I fear, hitherto but cursorily acquaint- 
 ed with their sac^red import. One great 
 obstacle to your mixing" again in society, 
 
 ♦ .is the fear of being- led astray by the weak- 
 
 ness of your own heart, that the spirit of 
 gaming may be quieted, not vanquished ; 
 
 ♦ and it is far less criminal, voii say, to ojve 
 yourself up to unavyili!)nr remorse, than to 
 brave the temptations whu li existing cir- 
 cumstances might induce you to yield to. 
 To this 1 answer, scenes of dissipation and 
 folly are best avoided ; that 1 should have 
 much less hope of your return to the social 
 duties of life, were you confident of being 
 al)le to meet temptation, that diffidence of 
 yourself I gladly hail as a most favourable 
 symptom, and that, after your dear-bought 
 experience of the dire effects of unchecked 
 impetuosity of feeling, and tlie instability 
 of vicious pursuits, you will be led, both 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 115 
 
 by habit and incliqation, to the rational 
 pursuits of man ; and by abjuring yice, best 
 evince your just detestation of it, aud your 
 repentance of having nearly proved its vic- 
 tim. 
 
 " 1 intend soon to visit the cottage. — My 
 prayers are yours. 
 
 " F. Leicester." 
 
116 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Emily continued to pass her days iti 
 dull monotony, or in anxious apprehen- 
 sion, on Fitsuiorton^s account. She with 
 too much reason anticipated that his health 
 would suffer from his being constantly ex- 
 posed to the inclemency of the v/eather, 
 and from the irritable state of his mind ; 
 and she dreaded every calamity v/hich anx- 
 iety and affection could suggest. Her hopes 
 ever rested on Dr. Leicester's expected 
 visits : he cheered her with his counsel, 
 and never permitted her co despair on the 
 subject most interestino- to her heart — the 
 return of peace to her beloved husband's 
 mind. 
 
 She was ruminating one day on the pos- 
 sibility of such a blessing, when her atten- 
 tion was aroused by an elegant carriage 
 enteringthelittieenclosure which surround- 
 ed the cottage. In a few moments Mrs. 
 Barclay was announced, and the ci-devant 
 Miss Sandford stood before her. Emily 
 hud a confused recollection of a card hav- 
 ing been left at the house in town just be- 
 fore her misfortunes, and, being unac- 
 quainted with the name of Barclay, she 
 concluded that the card having been given 
 to her originated in some mistake. Mrs. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. H7 
 
 Barclay, with her usual volubility, com- 
 menced tlie history of herself^ — " That she 
 had married to her carriage — that her hus- 
 band was a man of great property — that, 
 somehow or other, he had taken a fancy to 
 her — and so she was persuaded to become 
 his wife/^ 
 
 Emily congratulated her on her good 
 fortune. 
 
 " Fortune, to be sure, I have," she re- 
 plied ; " but poor Mr. Barclay is such a 
 martyr to die gout, that he ought to have a 
 nurse, not a wife, to attend him. He is, 
 besides, thirty years older than 1 am, a lit- 
 tle deformed, and very captious in temper. 
 We are now passing through Wales, for 
 the pleasure of travelling ; and having 
 heard of your change of circumstances, 1 
 thought it might appear like pride not to 
 ask you how you do." 
 
 Emily slightly bowed. 
 
 Mrs. Barclay proceeded. 
 
 " And how are your spirits, my dear 
 creature? To be sure this is a very differ- 
 ent place to what you have been used to. 
 Dear me, how surprised you must have 
 felt when Mr. Fitsmorton fought a duel ? 
 I wish you would tell me the history of 
 yourself, for there were strange reports 
 abroad upon your leaving town. You would 
 have Fitsmorton when you might have 
 
 VOL. II. 11 
 
115 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 been a countess. By the bye, I fancy Mrs. 
 Grosvenor lias paid dearly for her shameful 
 conduct." 
 
 " My mother, are you speaking of? For 
 heaven's sake tell me what vou know about 
 her !" 
 
 " My dear soul, don't discompose your 
 spirits ; ] really know nothing to a certain- 
 ty ; only a tew months ago Mr. Barclay w as 
 ordered by his physicians to go to Bath, 
 (he was attended by three at a time;) and 
 1 saw Mrs. Grosvenor walking on one of 
 the parades — such a figure ! — so shabbily 
 genteel ! that 1 hurried away, lest she should 
 know and sp^ak to me. She had on a bon- 
 net that formerly her own maid would not 
 have worn ; and " 
 
 Emdy interrupted her. 
 
 " And is it possible that you did not 
 wish to offer relief where poverty was so 
 conspicuous? Did you never see her 
 again ?" ' 
 
 " Never ! Bi^sides, one would not wish 
 to have any intercourse with such a char- 
 acter as Mrs. Grosvenor's. Modest marri- 
 ed women should be very careful how they 
 associate with cast-off mistresses." 
 
 Eniily exclaimed- — " Oh my poor mo- 
 ther!'' 
 
 " 1 do not wonder," Mrs. Barclay con- 
 tinued, " that you should be so afi'ected. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. Il» 
 
 I am sorry, however, l mentioned the sub- 
 ject." Then, looking at an elegant watch 
 which hung conspicuously by her side, she 
 said, " dear me ! Mr. Barclay only allowed 
 me half an hour: indeed I pleaded hard to 
 come to you even for so short a time ; but 
 1 told him how proud it would appear, if I 
 did not visit a friend in distress : besides, I 
 wished to shew you my elegant carriage, 
 and the beautiful horses, which are just 
 
 purchased An't they dears? Look 
 
 how sweetly they toss their heads up and 
 down. But 1 forgot to ask after your chil- 
 dren, and poor Mrs. Granby ! Good bye, 
 dear Emily ; keep up your spirits ; 1 am 
 sorry I can't stay longer." 
 
 So saying, she fluttered away in all the 
 thoughtlessness of folly ; nor did she hear 
 Emily's exclamation of, " Merciful Hea- 
 ven ! grant me patience !" 
 
 The unfeeling vulgarity of Mrs. Barclay's 
 rpanners, and her ill-judged attempts at 
 consolation, were forgotten in the idea of 
 her mother's return to England, perhaps 
 now in distress, or in absolute want. And 
 she vainly formed a thousand plans for as- 
 certainmg Mrs. Grosvenor's real situation. 
 By Fitsmorton's advice, she wrote to Dr. 
 Leicesrcr, who caused adverti^ments to 
 be inserted in the newspapers, so cau- 
 tiously worded, that only the parties them- 
 
1^« THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 selves could comprehend their meaning, 
 Emily most ardently wished tor the oppor- 
 tunity and the power to relieve her mo- 
 ther's distresses, and perhaps to shield her 
 from further misery. She wished to for- 
 get the neglect she herselt" had experienced 
 during her infancy ; and, when pressing her 
 own children to her bosom, wondered how 
 such a neglect could have been possible. 
 
 Dr. Leicester continued his visits and 
 his letters to Fitsmorton ; and Emily, vi'ho 
 watched all his emotions with unalleviating 
 anxiety, was so frequently disappointed in 
 the fallacious hopes, she could not some- 
 times help encouraging, that her husband's 
 mind would eventually be restored to peace. 
 She, however, had the satisfaction to know 
 that he regarded her as the most perfect of 
 human beings; and often would he exclaim, 
 " My Emily ! I do indeed appreciate thy 
 worth ; and though happiness and 1 are, I 
 fear, now and for ever at variance, for thy 
 dear sake I will continue to endure exist- 
 ence. Oh, had 1 early confided to thee all 
 my doubts and perplexities, I should pro- 
 bably have escaped every disgraceful fasci- 
 nation. I should not have been the des- 
 troyer of my friend !" 
 
 Mrs. Gj|ml\y was gradually recihvering 
 health of body and mind. Mrs. Fitsmor- 
 ton was never prevailed upon to leave her. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. l2Ti 
 
 Alfred Granby had felt all that human na- 
 ture could feel under the pressure of such 
 a disappointment and misfortune, and hu- 
 manity plead'^d, when the delicacy of his 
 feelings would have condemned ; and he 
 endeavoured to hope that the affection of 
 a wife and mother would supersede every 
 other consideration. With returning rea- 
 son, Mary seeuied to exert more fortitude 
 than her nature had hiiherto evinced. Mrs. 
 Fitsmorton's conduct, her husband's anxi- 
 ety, and the sight of her lovely blooming 
 child, were powerful incentives to conquer 
 unavailing regrets, and to look forward to 
 future peace. The idea only of meeting 
 her brother, subdued her feeble spirits, and 
 her tremulous accents ever betrayed an 
 alarmins: aoitation when he was mentioned. 
 Travelling was strenuously recommended 
 to perfect her recovery; — and, accompani- 
 ed by Mrs. Fitsmorton and her husband, 
 she soon left England, every thing being 
 arranged for a long foreign tour. Nothing 
 could induce her to be separated from her 
 child ; she seemed to exist but in its pre- 
 sence : and frequently, with tears of grati- 
 tude, she would put the infant in her hus- 
 band's ^ll^, and term it the pledge of his 
 forgiven^J and of her future peaft. 
 
 Emily acceded to the necessity of their 
 departure, and had received the mournful 
 11 * 
 
122 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 consolation of a visit from Mrs. Fitsmortoii. 
 The meeting and parting viith her son, was 
 indeed a very severe trial ; nor was he less 
 affected, though he endeavoured to con- 
 ceal the agitation he experienced. 
 
 Catherine Walker ever continued a faith- 
 ful and valuable servant ; her care and af- 
 fection for the child knew no bounds ; and 
 her gratitude to Mrs. Fitsmorton and Emi- 
 ly ceased but with her life. 
 
 Franks ended his days in a prison, and 
 died unpitied and unregretted. 
 
 Emily had nearly given up in despair the 
 hope of again returning with her husband 
 to society. His mind continued the prey 
 of unavailing remorse ; and the sad remem- 
 brance of his lamented friend, was the ne- 
 ver-failing sting which lacerated his bosom. 
 
 Mr. Macartny and Miss Travers were 
 just at this period united. Emily had one 
 morning received the interesting intelli- 
 gence ; and, feeling rath«r more than usual- 
 ly composed and cheerful, she summoned 
 the children to take with her their accus- 
 tomed ramble. The fineness of the day^ 
 the beauty of the scenery, and the apparent 
 enjoyment of the children, induced her to 
 prolong her walk beyond its us|J|| bounds. 
 She soo^ perceived a man at 4Pnttle dis- 
 tance, advancinf>- towards her ; fear was a 
 stranger to her bosom, for a robbery in the 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. *53 
 
 environs of the village where she resided, 
 would have been a singular, an unheard-of 
 event. What then was her astonishment, 
 when the man, apparently disguised, came 
 up close to her, and seizing her rudely by 
 the arm, presented a pistol to her breast. 
 The children screamed in wild affright, and 
 clinging to her gown, she felt the danger of 
 their situation, and the horror ot her own. 
 
 "• 1 will give you my purse, (she exclaim- 
 ed,) only take away the pistol, and harm 
 not my little ones.^' 
 
 " Sorceress, (the man answered,) it is 
 not your purse 1 would have, it is your 
 lovely self. Did I not once tell you that 
 you should sue to me for pity?" 
 
 Emily now recognised the voice of Sir 
 George Sinclair; she had presence of mind 
 sufficient to recollect the derangement of 
 his senses, and that the malady had of late 
 alarmingly increased. Endeavouring to 
 suppress her terror, she sought to- tempo- 
 rise with his violence. The wild and un- 
 frequented pa^h she had chosen, gave little 
 hope of chance assistance, or relief. And 
 she at length found it impracticable to dis- 
 engage herself from his ferocious orasp, or 
 to silen^^he screams of her terrified chil- 
 dren. iS! 
 
 Sir Georsre Sinclair, after a sort of con- 
 vulsive triumphant laugh, said : 
 
124 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 *' You have trifled with me, beauteous 
 deceiver. You should have fled to me for 
 refuge under your late misfortunes.^^ And 
 after continuing to reproach her in a wild 
 and incoherent manner, he suddenly seized 
 her little boy in his arms, and levelled the 
 pistol at his hf-ad. " You will not fly me 
 now, (he continued,) this moment repays 
 all my sufferings. 1 urn followed by the 
 woman 1 have so long adored." 
 
 Poor Emily did indeed toliovv him, and 
 desperate from the situation of her child, 
 she endeavoured to snatch him from the 
 madman\s arms ; and at the same time for- 
 tunately averted the pistol from its dread- 
 ful direction : and as she caught the scream- 
 ing child to her bosom, the explosion of 
 the pistol bereaved her of all recollection. 
 She was first aroused by the cries and la- 
 mentations of the children.— r-Her senses 
 were soon restored ; and with all a mother^s 
 joy, when she perceived that they had es- 
 caped danger ; but a sight soon met her eye, 
 which chilled her blood with horror; the 
 wretched man had himself received the 
 contents of the pistol, and lay apparently 
 without sense or motion, the blood stream- 
 ing from his mouth a,nd head, ^ he fled 
 from the spot as hastily as pfmKi\e ; but 
 carrying one child, and soothing the other, 
 she arrived at her own cottage, breathless, 
 and overcome with exertion and fatigue. 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 185 
 
 Most fortunately Fitsmorton was at 
 home ; Emily tainted, and was immediately 
 conveyed to bed ; proper people were sent 
 to remove Sir George Sinclair trom the 
 spot, and much Fitsmoiton apprehended 
 various and unpleasant consequences might 
 ensue from his dearh. This, however, did 
 not .prove the case ; he lived, but he lived 
 over after a wretched maniac, and again ex- 
 perienced the friendly solicitude and hu- 
 manity of his uncle's honest and well- 
 meaning wife. 
 
 The fright and fatigue which Emily had 
 experienced, brought on a premature con- 
 finement, and she soon lay apparently on 
 the bed of death. Fitsmorton's distraction 
 cannot be described ; he wrote an incohe- 
 rent letter to his friends at the rectory ; and 
 they, with their usual prompt solicitude of 
 friendship, arrived at the cottage, just as a 
 few hours were to determine the life or death 
 of Emily ! He found Fitsmorton in all the 
 agony of sorrow, gazing on the death-like 
 appearance of the unconscious Emily.—' 
 Mrs. Leicester took her station a^the bed- 
 side, the medical attendants were awaiting 
 in fearful expectation of the awful crisis. 
 And, at thl||ight of Dr. Leicester, Fits- 
 morton relapsed with despairing violence 
 to a more acute sense of his affliction. 
 " Tell me not, (he said,) of comfort. 
 
126 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 cheat me not with the vain delusions of 
 hope ; I will not survive'her loss !" 
 
 Dr. Leicester saw how vain were the at- 
 tempt to reason at that moment with his 
 despairing friend. But he forcibly conduct- 
 ed him to the chamber of death, being well 
 assured nothing could at that period agitate 
 his apparently dying wife. Then holding 
 him gently by the arm, he said : 
 
 " Fitsmorton ! if any thing can check the 
 impiety and violence of your conduct, it 
 must be the scene before you ; — contem- 
 plate the awful situation of that angelic 
 being ; and then say if the indecency of in- 
 vective ; — if the impiety of the dreadful 
 threats you. have pronounced to a God, on 
 whose fiat her fate still depends, can be 
 productive of any thing but present or fu- 
 ture misery to yourself. Recollect, infatu- 
 ated man ! how you have hitherto neglected 
 the fairest flower that ever bloomed ; how 
 370U have fled from the charm of her socie- 
 ty to frightful and unavailing solitude, and 
 substituted the rantof despair for real pen- 
 itence of spirit. Weil may such conduct 
 now rise up in judgment against you, 
 when the blessing that was bestowed for 
 the solace <»f your existence^.may now be 
 remtived for ever !" 
 
 Fitsmorton gr'^'aned, aii'l said : " For- 
 bear ! — 0;i, in mercy, forbear these just 
 reproaches." ^ 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. IC7 
 
 *• I have a cruel task to perform, Fits- 
 mortoij ! But 1 would arouse yuur }fi dor- 
 mant tdculiies to every teeling of religious 
 hope. 1 would ur^^e you lo liuitible yt)ur- 
 seh before Hiiu, in whose liaiids are the 
 issues of lite and deatli, to confess with 
 humility every past otieuce. And if this 
 angel be yet permitted to dwell among us, 
 to devote your future lite to every active 
 duty, and to those pursuits consonant to 
 the character of a man and a chriJslian." 
 
 Filsmorton wept like a child ; the ago- 
 nizing burst of tears seemed to give vent 
 to the feelini^s of oppressed naiure. He 
 knelt by the side of his adored tmiiy, and, 
 taking- her lifeless hand, held it to his iijjs 
 in silence : his eyes turned towards Hea- 
 ven, as if he wished to h »!d communion 
 •With his Maker. Dr. Leicester had heen 
 assured, from ihe ptiysicians, that some 
 hours would yet ela:)se before the crisis of 
 her fate could he determined : he therefore 
 permitted Fitsmorion lo indulge, with<»ut 
 restraint, em )ii(nis so newly awakened; 
 and the ha!IovV(^tl oja'^'ulatit'ii luirsiina' trom 
 his lips f»t, " Merciful God, restore her !" 
 gave every hapoy presage that the suppli- 
 cation of real penitence would even»uaily 
 foll>w. 
 
 Dr. Leicester th mi read, in solemn and 
 impressive accents, prayers suitable to the 
 
112S THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 occasion ; Fitsmorton still kneeling, with 
 his eyes rivetted on Emily, one moment 
 fancying she had ceased to breathe; and 
 the next, imagining some alteration was 
 taking place tor the better. At length the 
 predicted hour was nearly arrived tor her 
 death, or her recovery. Every eye was 
 fixed upon her countenance — the physician 
 endeavouring to judge, by her pulse, whe- 
 ther he might suppress or encourage hope: 
 he alone was now the object of Eitsmor- 
 ton's attention ; and conjecturing, by his 
 manner, the worst that could happen, he 
 sat — the image of despair. 
 
 A convulsive sigh from Emily electrified 
 all around her. The physician motioned 
 that they should leave the room ; and Fits- 
 morton imagining that the dreadful sen- 
 tence was accomplished, rushed from the 
 apartment in speechless agony, to which 
 succeeded paroxysms of returning violence, 
 almost shaking the seat of reason, and cer- 
 tainly putting to flight every emotion of 
 hope and resignation. 
 
 Mrs. Leicester had remained in the room, 
 and most ^^rateful to her affectionate and 
 anxious heart were the words, " She lives ! 
 Her disorder, m;tdam, will subside." 
 
 Emily, in a short time, verified the doc- 
 tor^s predictions; the sleep of apparent 
 death had yielded to the lighter slumber of 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. I29 
 
 returning health, and she soon awoke, to 
 know the kind friend who attended her, 
 she faintly articulating, " My husband ! — 
 my children !'' Fitsniorton, who had sta- 
 tioned himself at the chamber door, no 
 sooner caught the sound of her voice, than 
 most inconsiderately he sprang to the side 
 of the bed, and, supporting Emily in his 
 arms, he cried, " She lives ! — she lives !" 
 Then gazing on her pallid countenance, he 
 discovered, with agonizing repentance, that 
 his sudden appearance had overpowered 
 the yet too feeble faculties of her mind and 
 body. Of course, all proper assistance was 
 recurred to, and Fitsmorton, gaining cau- 
 tion from experience, was guided in future 
 by the advice of his kind, but less impetu- 
 ous friends. 
 
 Her recovery was slow and tedious ; her 
 patience and resignation were most exem- 
 plary ; and she could not help flattering 
 herself that the gloom of Fitsmorton's mind 
 seemed gradually to abate; he lived but in 
 her presence; his sequestered and gloomy 
 haunts were neglected," and the conduct 
 and sentiments of this interestin:^- creature 
 almost convinced him that the souPs forti- 
 tude, derived from the precepts of Chris- 
 tianity, was no chimerical idea ; for what 
 else could have supported her throuijh the 
 trials she had experienced? And now her 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
no THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 just and afTectionate reasoning of man's de- 
 pendency— her gratitude for being again 
 permitted to watch over her husband's 
 mind, and the arguments she advanced to 
 persuade him to renounce the romantic de^ 
 lusions of despair, and, by sincere repent- 
 ance, to trust to the mercy of Heaven ! — 
 added to Dr. Leicester'r exhortations and 
 advice, contributed to soften the austerity 
 of Fitsmorton's ideas ; and, from doubting 
 whether he was right, he began insensibly 
 to fear that he had been wrong. All that 
 religion could suggest — all that a mind 
 higldy gifted by nature and education could 
 advance, was judiciously and kindly offer- 
 ed for his serious consideration : and he 
 soon listened with tolerable composure, 
 when Emily sweetly intimated her hopes 
 that he would live again in the bosom of 
 domestic gc)ciety. And now the bloom of 
 health liad irradiated her check with more 
 than usual beauty, and ^these newly-awak- 
 ened ho])es of her beloved husband's resto- 
 ration to peace, bid her anticipate future 
 happiness, but for tlie recollection of the 
 probable misery of her mother's fate ! Of 
 that fate, however, she continued to re- 
 main ignorant. Mrs. Grosvcnor died in 
 wretchedness and poverty, without one 
 friendly ha^nd to smoothe the bed of death, 
 or to ameliorate her dreadful situation. She 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 131 
 
 continued with Lord Sedley for some time, 
 revellinj^ in all the luxury which vice and 
 folly could bestcrw ; but soon their frequent 
 altercations were productive of more seri- 
 ous quarrels, and he, tired of her waning 
 charms and extravagance of disposition, 
 wrote her his last farewell, only accom- 
 panied with a bank-note of very mode- 
 rate value, taxing- her with certain impru- 
 dencies of conduct, as the best excuse for 
 so sudden a desertion. It were useless to 
 follow her through all the changes she then 
 experienced. She at first accepted the 
 protection of a man who had been a depend- 
 ant of Lord Sedley 's ; but, after having 
 arrived in England with him, she soon tir- 
 ed of his penurious disposition, and they 
 amicably parted by mutual consent. Ever 
 extravagant and unthinking in her dispo- 
 sition, she could little assimilate her ne- 
 cessities to her means : the horrors of pover- 
 ty were advancing, and, after having visit- 
 ed the city of Bath on a speculative plan, 
 with an equally indigent companion, she, 
 by slow deijrees, plunged into every vice 
 that could disgrace the name of woman : 
 habitual drunkenness took from her the 
 power of reflection, ruined heXhealth, and 
 reduced her to the extreme, of poverty. 
 There were mf)ments when she remember- 
 ed Emily with agony ; and ere she could 
 
332 THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 form the resolution to supplicate relief 
 from her hands, she, in an hour of inebrie- 
 ty, met with an accident, which soon end- 
 ed her miserable life. 
 
 iler remains were consigned to the grave 
 by the parish, ^nd Emily was for ever ig- 
 norant of the sad fate of her mother ! 
 
 It has been before remarked, that Fits- 
 morton's character, in early life, was de- 
 cisively a domestic one. Nature had im- 
 planted the seeds of virtue in his bosom ; 
 an affectionate mother had endeavoured to 
 cultivate and improve them ; and, when 
 removed from her immediate care, he was 
 taught every accomplishment which could 
 constitute the scholar and the gentleman : 
 and, had parental authority been softened 
 by friendship and affection ; had he been 
 taught by example, as well as by precept, 
 to worship God " in spirit and in truth ;" 
 had the volume of Christianity been openetl 
 to his view; his ch.aracter might have re- 
 mained free from reproach : or, had the 
 weakness of humanity even prompted the 
 commission of those vices and follies he 
 now' suffered from, instead of the unsatis- 
 factory ebullitions of remorse which haras- 
 sed his mind, witliout a prospect ofrcjiev- 
 ing it, ho would have felt and acknowledg- 
 ed that one tear of genuine repentance was 
 more acceptable in the sight of heaven, 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 13J 
 
 than all the romancs of unrestricted feel- 
 ing, leading to the gloomy verge of crimi- 
 nal despair ; that no sin, however erroneous 
 in its nature, but may be remitted, by the 
 adoption of a new life — by embracing that 
 faith which leads to hope, and produces the 
 blessed fruits of unlimited charity. 
 
 Fitsmorton's habitual carelessness on sa- 
 cred subjects ; his deplorable ignorance of 
 the sublime truths of Christianity, were the 
 grand obstacles which Dr. Leicester lament- 
 ed in the transformation of his mind : but 
 time and perseverance accomplished the 
 task ; and, as religion opened new sources 
 of consolation, he felt less repugnance to 
 return to the practice of every active duty; 
 and, in a twelvemonth after Emily's recov- 
 ery from the bed of death, he consented to 
 reside at Fitsmorton Park, and, by degrees, 
 his mind regained that serenity which his 
 late enthusiastic feeling would for ever 
 have forbidden. 
 
 Mrs. Fitsmorton continued abroad with 
 her daughter; and just before their expect- 
 ed return, Mrs. Granby app<^ared alarming- 
 ly to droop, from the sudden attack of in- 
 disposition. 
 
 She never lived to meet her brother ! — ■ 
 an idea which always gave rise to ag^oniz- 
 ing reflections. A consu'nptive cotnplaint 
 most rapidly undermined her constitution^ 
 
13* THE FATAL CABINET. 
 
 and she died serenely, in the arras of her 
 mother ! 
 
 Mis. Fitsmorton and Granby returned 
 to England iminediateiy with the child ; 
 they were sincere and lasting mourners for 
 her death : but time, the grand soother of 
 al! affliction, in some measure sul:)dued the 
 severity of their^s; and Mrs. Fitsmorton 
 exclusively took upon herself the charge of 
 her grand-daughter, dividing her time be- 
 tween Granby and her son's family; and 
 she lived to hold in her arms an infant of 
 this her present darling, who was in due 
 tisni", and with every prospect of happiness, 
 united to Fitsmorton's eldest son ; the will 
 of the untnrtunate Dorville being hereby, 
 in every respect, accomplished. 
 
 Einily became the happy mother of sev- 
 eral other children ; and the scrupulous at- 
 tention that was paid to their moral and 
 religious duties was amply repaid, by their 
 proving a blessing and an ornament to so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Fitsmorton could never be persuaded to 
 make any permanent residence in London, 
 too much reminding him of former follies, 
 whenever necessity compelled him to make . 
 even a temporary visit there : the select 
 society with which he was surrounded ; the 
 education of his children ; and, above all, 
 the cfear woman who ever remained his ra- 
 
THE FATAL CABINET. 135 
 
 tional companion and affectionate counsel- 
 lor, so exercised his understanding, and 
 interested his heart, that he had Jittle Jei- 
 siire or inclination to seek the charm of 
 unbounded variety in the gay region of dis- 
 sipation. To his latest hour, the sad re- 
 membrance of Dorville pressed heavily on 
 his mind ; but the horrors of an accusing 
 conscience were now softened by the de- 
 vout aspirations of unaffected penitence ; 
 and the folly and depravity of his former 
 conduct only remembered as a mournful 
 memento of human weakness. 
 
 Dr. Leicester lived to an advanced age; 
 and, in every visit to Fitsmorton Park, he 
 felt proudly gratified that he had proved 
 an instrument, in the hand of Providence, 
 to restore Fitsmorton to the bosom of his 
 family, and, through the medium of repent- 
 ance, to that peace which neither the fol- 
 lies of the world, nor the delusion of a per- 
 verted imagination, could bestow ! 
 
BOOKS ^^ STATIONARY, 
 
 f)n lower terms than can be obtained in the United States. 
 
 ISAIAH THOMAS, Jun. 
 
 NO. 6 MARLBOROUGH-STREET, 
 
 Informs the public^ that having establish' 
 ed a Bookstore at Boston., and hating an 
 extensive correspondence icilh ail the princi- 
 pal ■Booksellers in the U7iited States, he is 
 enabled upon the shortest noiice to supply any 
 American publications which he may not 
 have on hand, without any extra cost, and he 
 solicits the attention of all who wish to pur- 
 chase on liberal terms, to cull and examine 
 for themselves. 
 
 He has lately published and has for sale the 
 following valuable woi'/cs — viz. 
 
 Edwards's- VV^orks, 8 vols. B 18 00 
 
 Lathrops' Sermons, 3 vols. 10 00 
 
 Piutarc'li's Lives, 6 vols. . 7 50 
 
 Flavins Josephus, 3 vols. 8vo. . 7 00 
 
 Moral Monitor, 2 vols. 2 00 
 
 Koran ; or Mahometan Bible, 2 00 
 
 Meri vale's Devotions, 621 
 
 Po'.reu.s's Evidences, 60 
 
 Hisrf»ry of the Heathen Gods, 871 
 
 Z 'iii' : >r<;r'a Sermons, 2 v'ois. 8vo. 4 50 
 
 Exercises of Piety, 75 
 
 B':ii>";-o{i'^ Life of Washington, 2 7^ 
 Williams' History Veimont, 2 vols. 5 50 
 

*