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 L161 — O-1096 
 
THE 
 
 MISER MARRIED. 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/misermarriednove01hutt 
 

 THE 
 
 MISER MARRIED- 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 CATHERINE HUTTON. 
 
 vol.. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1813. 
 
J. G, Barnard, Printer, Skinner-street, London, 
 

 DEDICATION* 
 
 TO MY FATHER, 
 My beloved and respected Father o 
 
 TO you, from whom I in- 
 herit the Faculties which have ena- 
 bled me to compose a Book; to 
 whose Industry I am indebted for 
 the Means of Leisure; and by 
 a 3 
 
Vi DEDICATION. 
 
 whose Kindness I am permitted to 
 enjoy it ; do I dedicate that Book, 
 as I have dedicated my life. 
 
 Of your Talents, which have 
 broken through the Fetters of Ig- 
 norance, I will say nothing. They 
 are before the World ; and the 
 World has judged favourably of 
 them. Of your Conduct, I may 
 be allowed to say, that its Tenor 
 is — Independence, for yourself ; 
 and unlimited Indulgence, to all 
 around you, I trust mine has 
 
DEDICATION. Vn 
 
 proved that I am not insensible of 
 the Blessing. 
 
 To you it is unnecessary; but, 
 in this place, it is proper to add, 
 that 
 
 I am. 
 
 Your most grateful and 
 
 Affectionate Daughter, 
 CATHERINE HUTTON, 
 
 Birmingham, 
 May 1st, 1813. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 TO step forth at once, 
 from the most impenetrable soli- 
 tude, and present myself before 
 the awful tribunal of the Pub- 
 lic, is an effort so great, a transi- 
 tion so violent, that it agitates all 
 my nerves, and, for the present, 
 "murders sleep/^ 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 My skill in the composition of 
 various sorts of puddings has ne- 
 ver been questioned : my episto- 
 lary talents have been commended 
 by my few correspondents, and 
 not denied by myself: but that 
 I possessed the inherent quaUties 
 necessary to write a book, was 
 not suspected by me, till lately. 
 
 I had been reading a celebrated 
 Novel, written by a celebrated 
 Lady, which appeared to me of 
 that kind called prose run mad. 
 Beauty, sentiment and descrip- 
 
PREFACE. Xi 
 
 tion, rose to such a pitch, that 
 their effect was reversed. What 
 should have excited admiration, 
 became burlesque ; and I found 
 myself obliged to laugh, where 
 it was intended I should have 
 wept. "Surely," said I, as I 
 laid down the book, " Surely I 
 could write as well as this!" I 
 tried, and believed I had not 
 been mistaken. 
 
 To sohcit the favour of the 
 Public, would be to doubt its 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 justice. To the first I make no 
 claim. On the latter I have the 
 most firm reliance, and to that I 
 submit. 
 
THE 
 
 MISER MARRIED. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 TO MR. WILLIAM MENDALL. 
 
 Winterdale, Feb. 15, J812. 
 
 I HOPE you get on with business. Tell 
 the rascals I will not abate them a far- 
 thinof. Because their fathers and 
 grandfathers had the lands for nothing-, 
 I suppose they will think it an in- 
 fringement on their rights to be made 
 to pay for them. If it had not been 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 for this unlucky hurt on my foot, I 
 would have played the devil with them 
 myself. No man can doubt your ho- 
 nesty : I only fear your resolution. 
 Remember, however, I delegate my 
 devilship to you, and do not forget to 
 use it, 
 
 I am miserable without you. No- 
 thing goes right. Mr. Clodpole is the 
 
 most cursed awkward fellow that ^ver 
 
 existed, both about one's person and 
 one's business. I wonder you, who 
 have lived with me more than nineteen 
 years, and scarcely ever left me a day, 
 could not give him some better instruc- 
 tions. When he puts on my coat, he 
 dislocates my shoulders ; and when he 
 brushes it on my back, he labours as if 
 he were rubbing down one of his 
 horses. 
 
 I have lived wholly on venison and 
 poultry since you left me, because I 
 
THE MISER MARRIEiy. 3' 
 
 would not trust Clod to go to market: 
 and notwithstanding" drumsticks, fag- 
 ends of pasties, and nice pickings of 
 bones, which have gone into the 
 kitchen, he and Martha have smoaked 
 one of the flitches of bacon. The 
 dozen of wine you brought up will last 
 me till you return ; for though, at 
 my usual allowance, they are cal- 
 culated for only twenty-four days ; 
 yet, by saving a glass a day, I shall 
 make them hold out a month. The 
 key of the ale cellar plagues me more 
 than all the rest, I carry it in my 
 pocket ; but I cannot draw ale myself; 
 and, whenever Clod does, I am forced 
 to stand on the cellar steps, to see that^ 
 he does not drink at the cask. 
 
 My lawsuit with the fellow that cut 
 the stick out of the hedge goes on well. 
 Foreclose was here to-day, and says it 
 will not cost me above fifty pounds; 
 
4 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 while it will cost him a huadred. That 
 is some' comfort, however. 
 
 My son is not yet arrived. He 
 writes me word he wants thirty pounds, 
 before he can leave Oxford. No 
 doubt he does. He always wants 
 thirty pounds : so do I ; but I know 
 the value of it, as well as he, and shall 
 not part with it. — I am sure his Univer- 
 sity education has cost me upwards 
 of a hundred pounds a year, which is' 
 more than he will ever make of his latin, 
 and logic. The grand article of learn- 
 ing is pounds, shillings, and pence; and 
 that he might have acquired at home. 
 
 The lady who has taken Ravenhill 
 Lodge is come to it, with her family, 
 which Martha tells me consists of a 
 daughter and a niece. She says Mrs. 
 Mereval is a handsome woman, not 
 more than eight and thirty, and that 
 the two girls are very beautifuL So 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 6 
 
 they may be for me. I had a glance of 
 two female figures, peeping through 
 the lattice of the little door in the park 
 wall, and I sent for the carpenter di- 
 rectly, to nail it up with boards. These 
 women may, perhaps, think they have 
 a right to be acquainted with me, be- 
 cau^se they chuse to come and live at 
 the next house. I can tell them that 
 will be no easy matter. As I have done 
 going to church, I shall not know 
 them ; and if I pass their house I shall 
 not look at it. 
 
 Write, as soon as you receive this, 
 to 
 
 John Winterdale. 
 
 b3 
 
6 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 TO MR. WILLIAM MENDALL, 
 
 Winter dale, Feb, 15, 1812. 
 
 DEAR MUSTER MENDALL, 
 
 My master sed as I mut put a letter 
 in Ills franck ; so I takes this hopertu- 
 nity of letting" you to know my sinsare 
 good witches for your return back ; for 
 all the fatt has bin in the fire sense you 
 have bin gon ; and my master is so mis- 
 deemful that nothing* can satisfy him. 
 Our new nybers Mrs. Merriveal, and 
 Miss Merriveal, and Miss Mobrey, and 
 too lady's mades, and a footmon and a 
 groom, and a cuck and howsmade com 
 last wick to Raving ill loge 5 and verry 
 fine fokes they be, He ashure you ; pur- 
 tickilurly the footman; for Ive only 
 sin but him yet. For I gos won day to 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 7 
 
 the Red Lyon, to fatch a pennath of 
 barm, and thar I sid him, owt o livvry, 
 and as smart, as yourself, but may be 
 a leetel younger. And Mrs. Tom^on 
 said, this is the squres how skipper ; 
 and so, says he, we shall be glad to see 
 
 
 4- +1.-^ 1 
 
 the lOge, uiame ; and our ladies 
 will be happy to wate of you at the 
 hall, mame. Ah ! says I, no sich luck, 
 ime afeard; for horn' master wunnot 
 let us have no sosity with nobody. 
 
 Howsomever, I thot to myself, as 
 they all knod I was the squrs how- 
 skiper, Ide furbitch myself up a bit, 
 among sich fine fokes ; and you knos 
 as Ive gott tew very good silk gownds, 
 only they be a litel ainchant; so I 
 axed my master to let me have the 
 mantimucker from the town, to halter 
 um a bit ; and, with some truebell he 
 gen me leaf. So it happened as Ide 
 made him a nice lite pudden o the 
 
8 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 Sundy, and hid nevr tuched it ; a the 
 Mimdy Ide put it in the huvoon, and 
 wormd it up again, and then he never 
 tuched it ; a the Tusday I cut it in slices, 
 and waimd it afore the fire, and sent it 
 in, for the third time, wieh they say 
 pays for all, and still it com back as it 
 went; but, gad! it had lick to paid 
 me ; for, as hill luck wud have it, I 
 gen it the mantemacker, Lord ! 
 how did he starm, wen he axed for it 
 a the Wensdy, and I told him hit was 
 gon ! I thot, to be shure, hid a gin me 
 warning. 
 
 Poor Rafe is worser off nor I bin ; 
 for mastr dars not let him do nothin, 
 for feard he shold cheat him. He dar- 
 cent send him to markit, and so we has 
 bin eatin o the baking flick, and 
 mastar maks a nise at that ; tho God 
 he knows I has sent him in all the 
 rodid, to his fowls and his turk keys. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 9 
 
 I ha made his venson past tys o drip- 
 pin, becos he allows me but a pond and 
 a hafe o butter a wick. But I shod 
 never a don, if I was to tell you hall ; 
 only I must tel you that I begd on him 
 to gi me the keys o the silk dam usk 
 rums, to set the winders open, and 
 dust the cortins; and I has gin the 
 copwebs a good dressin ; but I thinks, 
 in anuther seven yere the beds will 
 ware umselves out, and gee me no 
 moor trubbel. 
 
 Rafe hav got aquinted with madam 
 Mereveals groom, and he says he is a 
 likely fellow. So no more at present 
 from your wel wisher and feller sar- 
 vent till death, 
 
 Martha Stable » 
 
 B^ 
 
10 THE MISER MARKIED. 
 
 LETTER m. 
 
 TO MR. WILLYAM MEKDILL. 
 
 Winterdeal, Fehiiary 15, 1812. 
 REVERINT CUR, 
 
 Beein as how yo tot me to rite, an 
 Misis Matther do soy hur wil put this 
 here in her lettr as be gooin o the masters 
 franc, I thinks it my dewty to let yo to 
 no as I be wel, at this prison, blessid 
 be God for it. But I wish to the Lord 
 you was at whom ; for mastr be so du- 
 benis that thar be no livin with him, an 
 I conna doo nothin to plese him. God 
 a marsi, a gentlemons vallets soy I, an 
 lettmebe vallett to mi hossis; for thoy 
 be the koinder cattel o the tew, an the 
 best to fettle. How yo hav manichd so 
 mony y eres I doo not know ; but a mi 
 beside, from the hare on his yed to the 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. H 
 
 strings on his shoos, I conna doo nuthin 
 as be rite. I conna so mutch as eat rite, 
 ecksepting Ide ete nothing ; and I cona 
 drinck write, wthout Id drink woter : 
 but I may wurk mi fill. If I wos al 
 bonds an horms, an nevr a throte, I 
 mut shoot him. By gosh I uf yo stoy 
 long I wul goo too mi plow agen, an 
 leav mi waa-e behint me. 
 
 To be suer mi sis mather be a gud 
 old sole ; but I shud not soy old, ny ther, 
 beein as how she do soy she be butfyve 
 an thurti. But wee has bettr things nor 
 she, uf a boddy darst to get at um : for 
 Maddam Merry wool be comd to the 
 lodg, an the grum hav tuck me ther, 
 and gid me a horn o rare stingo : and 
 thre sich ladyce I nevr clapt my II on 
 as maddam an the tew yong misis; be- 
 side a pratty gipsy of a hows made. 
 But I hood not hav mastar to knov, , 
 
12 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 for no manderus thing; for the hows 
 hood not hold us bothe. 
 
 The poore hosis has not had a note 
 sins yo went ; for I beleiv as mastr bee 
 afeard I shod eat um miself, if so be 
 as I cood gett at um. Carlo be wel, 
 an sends his lov ; he wunna foller no- 
 boddy but me, now yo has laft him: 
 wich be all at prisont from yores to 
 eome and 
 
 Ralph Russetting. 
 
 %* As the writers of the foregoing letters were 
 totally ignorant of the art of punctuation, the 
 editor has added the proper stops, to make them 
 Mfttelligible. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 13 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 TO MR. WILLIAM MENDALL. 
 
 Winter dale y Feb. 21,1812. 
 
 I am g-lad to hear you have acquitted 
 yourself so well upon the whole ; though 
 I do not approve of your engaging for 
 the repairs of Jackson's house. The 
 fellow, and his father, before him, wore 
 it out. Why not mend it ? I never de- 
 stroyed a beam or rafter of it ; and it 
 is cursed hard my purse should suffer 
 for those that did. You did right to re- 
 fuse the lease. I will grant none. 
 Though, if the scoundrels behave well, 
 myself being judge of their behaviour, 
 I shall not raise their rents of seven 
 years. 
 
 If Taylor scruples to give the rent I 
 have asked for his farm, put it up by 
 
14 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 auction ; for I will not lower it for liis 
 nine children. I was not the cause of 
 his children coming into the world. If 
 he was, it is his to provide for them. 
 The same by Smith; his sheep have 
 had the rot, and he wants iTie to throw 
 him back a sum of m/oney. Why does 
 not he ask God Almighty for money, 
 who sent the rot, if he did not bring it 
 himself, by neglecting to drain his pas- 
 tures ? X have lived long enough in the 
 *World to see that if a man has a little 
 money ; that is, a little prudence, he 
 may take upon himself the office of 
 God Almighty, and repair all the evils 
 that the sloth, improvidence, and ex- 
 travagance of mankind bring upon 
 themselves. Who do I ask to give me 
 money? or even to lend it? Let them 
 go and do likewise, and we shall not 
 trouble one another. 
 
 Bring all the guineas you can. When 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 15 
 
 I have made the thirty-two thousand in 
 the iron chest, fifty thousand, I shall be 
 content. But, what with former sub- 
 sidies, and present exporters and melt- 
 ing pots, I fear that will not be easily 
 done. Government should make every 
 guinea pass for thirty shillings, which 
 would bring out my hoard and many 
 another, and keep them in circulation, 
 when they were out. I hate their flimsy 
 paper. 
 
 Elrington's huntsman and hounds 
 have been through the paddock where 
 the wood and kids are piled, in pursuit 
 of a hare. They have broken down 
 the fence, which I shall make him pay 
 for. I have entered an action against 
 him, and shall recover damages. 
 
 For once, I shall take your advice, 
 and will send Henry the thirty pounds 
 he asks for; but I will delay it a week, 
 that the expences of this week may be 
 
16 THE MISER MAKKIEI). 
 
 included in the sum. I hope he will be 
 a prudent lad, when he comes home; 
 for I am sure he has hitherto been a 
 very expensive one. 
 
 I had the misfortune, yesterday, at 
 a sudden turn of the road, to burst full 
 in the faces of a couple of young girls, 
 who, I suppose, by their slender figures, 
 and thin white drapery, are the young 
 women at the Lodge. I could not help 
 looking at them, before I recollected 
 myself; but I took no notice ' of them, 
 and hope I shall be more upon my 
 guard, if I meet them again. Such 
 people as these may not want money ; 
 but they may want a haunch of venison, 
 or a basket of grapes, or a house to 
 gossip at ; and I do not want company. 
 
 I am heartily glad you come home 
 next week. Hob is a novice at every 
 thing, except cramming his stomach; 
 
THE MISER MARHIEB. 17 
 
 and he is made of stuff that will not 
 mend. Your services, and the money 
 you bring-, will be almost equally wel- 
 come to 
 
 John Winterdale. 
 
18 THE MISER MAKRIED, 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 TO MISS CASTI.E3IAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, Feb. 22, 1812. 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 I acknowledge my promise to write 
 to you once a week, and with pleasure 
 I now begin to perform it ; for, besides 
 my friendship for you; besides my 
 hope of hearing of dear, lost, bewitch- 
 ing London ; I feel I shall want some- 
 thing to do — that most dreadful of all 
 wants, except the want of bread! 
 Where are you now ? In a crowded 
 assembly — at a ball — admired, and 
 wanting nothing. While 1 am sitting 
 alone, by my dressing-room fire, and 
 my bed candle, already, perhaps for- 
 gotten by that world I cannot forget. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 19 
 
 At such a time too ! If houses in the 
 counti'y must be entered upon at Can- 
 dlemas, why did not the makers of 
 Candlemas place it in July, when Lon- 
 don is a skeleton, and shady groves 
 and purling streams are delicious? 
 Now, my partner is dancing with, and 
 mv admii'er is flatterinp- another tvo- 
 man. Well! be it so. It is my daily 
 prayer to my heavenly Father that his 
 will be done, and I submit to it; 
 though it is certainly not my will. 
 But I am growing serious ; so I will 
 give you our promised history. 
 
 My father, as you may have heard 
 was gay and magnificent. His fine estate 
 was unequal to his expences, and he 
 left it in debt. Still, as I am his sole 
 heiress, I was accounted rich ; and so 
 I accounted myself; till circumstances 
 that have arisen lately have occasioned 
 some doubts. 
 
20 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 A distant relation, who went to 
 India an ag'e ago, and whose very ex- 
 istence was forgotten, arrived in Eng- 
 land, some time since ; and, finding 
 Sir George Montgomery was dead, 
 without a male heir, assumed the title ; 
 and,what is a great deal worse forme,he 
 fancies he has a right to the estate. 
 This notion of his he has communicat- 
 ed to the gentlemen of the law,andGod 
 only knows what will be the event. 
 In the mean time, the only indisput- 
 able part of our fortune is my mother's 
 jointure, during her life, and such per- 
 sonal property as my father left behind 
 him. 
 
 My mother, who brought Sir George 
 nothing but her beauty, has a jointure 
 of only one thousand pounds a 3 ear. 
 My guardians have allowed her five 
 hundred pounds a year, for my board 
 and education. But you must be sen- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 21 
 
 sible that the style in which we have 
 hved could not be supported upon an 
 income of fifteen hundred pounds. 
 Shall I confess it? We have run into 
 debt! deeply in debt ! a circumstance 
 never to be justified ! It can only be pal- 
 liated by observijig" that when I came 
 of age, and consequently into the pos- 
 session of my father's patrimony, of 
 which I want only fourteen months, I 
 could, and should have paid all. 
 
 I might lay the whole blame upon 
 Lady Montgomery, whose habits of 
 expense have always exceeded her 
 prudent resolutions, and say that, girl 
 as I was, she should not have permit- 
 ted me to tax my future fortune ; but 
 I will own that, borne along on the 
 tide of dissipation, I was willing 
 enough, myself, to pay the penalty. 
 
 The chance of losing my fortune, 
 and of even being obliged to refiuid 
 
22 THE MISER MAKRIED. 
 
 the income that has been allowed me, 
 out of the estate, has brought us both 
 to our senses. My mother has sold 
 her equipage and splendid furniture, 
 and dismissed all her servants, with the 
 exception of Horton, her own maid. 
 We have packed her up with us, in a 
 post chaise, and are gone, privately, 
 nobody knows whither, and nobody is 
 to know whither, but yourself, and two 
 other persons, Mr. Mountney, our soli- 
 citor and my cousin Miss Mowbray. You 
 will perceive the importance of the 
 secret intrusted to you, and guard it, 
 with the utmost care. 
 
 Mr. Mountney has taken a respect- 
 able house for us on the banks of the 
 Wye. I have contrived to have my fa- 
 vourite horse sent after us; and my 
 mother has hired a groom of the country. 
 Not like a London groom, whose dress 
 and manners his master is desirous to imi- 
 tate J but a good, stout, rosy-faced 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 23 
 
 hind, who, when he has dressed my 
 horse, can handle a spade or a hoe, and 
 dress our cabbages and potatoes. Two 
 women servants, besides Horton, 
 make up the remainder of our own 
 establishment. I have now to intro- 
 duce to you another part of our family. 
 I told you, before we left town, that 
 Miss Mowbray, the daughter of a cler- 
 gyman and my father s sister, both 
 long since dead, having attained the 
 age of twenty-one, and become her 
 own mistress, had written to my 
 mother, as the widow of her uncle, to 
 ask if she would allow her to reside 
 with us, and would bring her out into 
 the world. On our sudden blight this 
 sweet girl has consented to live with us 
 and renounce the world. She joined 
 us at Hereford, with a man and wo- 
 man servant; and, as she pays my 
 
 mother two hundred pounds, a year for 
 3 
 
24 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 her own board, and fifty for each of her 
 servants, she will be a pecuniary ad- 
 vantage to us: to say nothing of the 
 advantage of her company; which I 
 shall call a blessing, as I can think of 
 no other word to express my sense of 
 it. She is also a horse-woman, and has 
 a couple of saddle-horses ; so, with our 
 dashing habits, and her man to attend 
 us, we may yet alarm the banks of the 
 Wye. 
 
 My cousin is all that is lovely in wo- 
 man ; tall, elegant, fair, beautiful, mo- 
 dest, unaffected, sensible, compassionate, 
 and good-tempered. Perhaps you may 
 be disposed to think I had rather have 
 such a companion on the solitary banks 
 of the Wye than in the gay crowds of 
 London. I do not exactly know how 
 far you may be right. That friendship 
 cannot enter into competition with love, 
 in the female bosom, I am ready to al- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 25 
 
 low; but that it may be superior to 
 vanity I will boldly assert. Let some 
 one man, whom I may happen to love, 
 prefer me to my cousin ; and, though 
 all others prefer her to me, I am con- 
 tent. I feel that my love of one man 
 might surpass my love of woman; 
 but my regard for twenty, or, if you 
 please, the whole sex, would bow before 
 it. In my cousin I seem to have a se- 
 curity that her one man and mine will 
 not be the same person. Her timid, 
 gentle, retiring manners may attract 
 some "shepherd beside a clear stream;*' 
 while my laughing black eyes and open 
 countenance may strike some " Cap- 
 tain with a smart cockade ;" whom I 
 should certainly prefer to all the de- 
 spairing swains in England. 
 
 In one point my cousin has a great 
 advantage over me. Her mother's 
 fortune, which was ten thousand pounds, 
 
 VOI-. I. c 
 
^0 THE MISER MAHRTED. 
 
 descended to her, without addition or 
 diminution ; and, brought up in the 
 family of a man of honour, her guar- 
 dian ; and within the pale of a country 
 fire-side; it has greatly increased dur- 
 ing her minority. She has acquired 
 habits of regularity and economy ; while 
 I have been anticipating my future 
 ibrtune — wasting money not yet my 
 own — and, as it may now prove, — never 
 to be my own. 
 
 I hear you ask (for, as I cannot lite- 
 rally hear you, I make speeches for you) 
 Are you not dreadfully uneasy, when it 
 depends upon the breath of a Lord 
 Chancellor whether you shall be a 
 wealthy heiress, or, as the vulgar say- 
 ing is, worse than nothing ? Why, 
 no; — I do not feel a great disposition to 
 be miserable. A chill runs through my 
 bosom, now and then; but I always 
 think of the maxim of some great old 
 
THE MISER MAHRIED. tl 
 
 philosopher : — " There are two sorts 
 of things you should never grieve at ; 
 those you can help, and those you can* 
 not help." The reasons for both are 
 obvious. If it seem good to my Lord 
 Chancellor that I should inherit my 
 father's land, I shine out again. If he 
 think a strang^er have a better title to it 
 than I, I hide my head for ever. At 
 any rate, we are learning wisdom ; and, 
 as these grave lords are seldom hasty in 
 their decisions, the lesson may chance 
 to leave a lasting impression. Besides, 
 I ** consider the lillies of the field, how 
 they grow." Like them, I can " toil 
 not, neither can I spin;" and, like them, 
 I hope to be provided for. 
 
 One word more, and I have done 
 with this hateful subject, owing what I 
 cannot pay : more hateful, far, than the 
 loss of fortune, were it certain ; for, of 
 all feelings, that of having done wrong 
 
28 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 is the most insupportable. Concealment 
 implies guilt. We have, indeed, been 
 guilty. I must beg you to address your 
 letters, not to your old friend, Charlotte 
 Montgomery, but to your new acquaint- 
 ance, though no less affectionate 
 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
THE MISER JfTARRIED. 29 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, Feb, 29, 1812. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 I WILL now give you our domesti- 
 cals — why not our domesticals, as well 
 as your theatricals ? The situation of 
 our house is very fine; and, when na- 
 ture shall have put on her mantle of 
 green, it will be charming ; but, at 
 present, I own to you, that I think 
 London smoke a better colour. We 
 are on rising ground, and overlook al- 
 most the whole of a gentleman's park. 
 " Ha !" say you, interrupting me, " then 
 you have a gentlemali !" Have pa- 
 tience ; and let me go on. Well, as I 
 was saying ; beautiful lawns ; vener- 
 able woods ; noble lake ; and as the 
 c3 
 
30 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 orators of the hammer say, every things 
 corresponding. Again you interrupt 
 me — " But where is the mansion?" 
 That, my dear, is a point I wish to be 
 informed of, as well as yourself. I have 
 not seen it. No soul alive has seen it ; 
 except its inhabitants, and the few per- 
 sons who are obliged to go to it upon 
 business , The great gates are barred 
 within side ; the porter's lodge is shut 
 up ; the park is surrounded by a wall, 
 higher than a man on horseback ; and 
 the only access to the place is by a door 
 in the wall, that a man on horseback 
 can just pass through. Till lately, the 
 upper part af this was lattice ; but^ as 
 Eleanor Mowbray and myself v/ere 
 looking thi*oagh it, when we first came, 
 we accidentally got a peep at the 
 owner, and the next day we found it 
 boarded up. I dare say the man thinks 
 himself very mifortunate in having a 
 
Ti«E MISER MARIlIEi>. Si 
 
 fteigbbour; especially one who, if he 
 looks out of his windows, cannot avoid 
 looking into hi^ park! The house, 
 fronting the other way, and being half 
 surrounded with wood, is not visible to 
 us, or any living creature, except the 
 birds that ^y over it. 
 
 We had the happiness of meeting 
 tiiis gentleman one day, in a place 
 where he could not shun us. He al- 
 most started at the sight of us, and 
 looked like a man taken by surprize; 
 but, recollecting himself, he fixed his 
 eyes upon the ground, determining, no 
 doubt, that they should never see us 
 more. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale, for that is his name, 
 is a widower, about eight and forty 
 years of age ; rather under the middle 
 size ; thin, active, and looking* pretty 
 much like a gentleman. His features 
 are not unh^indsome. Their charac- 
 
32 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 teristic is melancholy and care. His 
 
 eyes have great keenness and penetra- 
 tion. As I saw all this in a moment, 
 I beg you will bestow great praise on 
 my penetration ; not as a regular phy- 
 siognomist; a disciple of Lavater, 
 learned in chins, lips, and noses; but 
 as an adept in the general expression 
 of the human face : and, as I think we 
 are more likely to reason wix)ng than 
 to feel wrong, my conclusions may, 
 perhaps be as just, as those of any di- 
 vine in Switzerland. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale has an only son, just 
 coming from college. God grant I 
 may be able to display my skill on his 
 phiz, before it be long ! Phiz strikes 
 me as a very low word ; and, I dare 
 say, when it escaped my pen, it made 
 the same impression upon you. I am 
 %vor dering why ! It is certainly de- 
 rived from physiognomy, which is a 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 33 
 
 noble word, and very much of a Gre- 
 cian. It must be owned, however, tliat 
 poor little Phiz has sadly degenerated 
 from his father, by having lost four 
 syllables of his stature. 
 
 Now, what a comfort might this Mr. 
 Winterdale prove to us, if he were in- 
 clined to be sociable ! He might even 
 make up one of the necessaries of life, 
 a rubber at whist. Three is a most 
 awkward party. 
 
 Eleanor and I walk unmercifully, 
 and ride manfully. We brave all 
 weathers, except rain or snow. We 
 play on the piano, and we play at 
 backgammon. We drive our needles 
 on at a surprising rate ; and should do 
 so oftener, if we had any spur to our 
 industry; but we need not make our 
 own petticoats, and as for any fancy 
 work to adorn our persons, to whom 
 
 c5 
 
M THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 should we shew it, when finished ? 
 We do sometimes, however, 
 
 With our needles create both one flower, 
 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion; 
 Both warbling of one song, both in one key, 
 
 I have made a most unhappy quota- 
 tion of Helena and Hermia : for, as if 
 to refute my former argument, Lysan- 
 der came in, and parted them. May I 
 never know a Lysander that should 
 part us ! 
 
 But, my dear girl, I still want em- 
 ployment. What shall I do ? some- 
 thing I will do ; if it be to write a Dic- 
 tionary or an Herbal ; for nothing in 
 the world is such hard work as doing 
 of nothing. Apropos of an Herbal — I 
 will paint all the flowers of the field, 
 and bind them into a huge "Tblio. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 35 
 
 What a bright thought ! In fine wea-- 
 ther I will go hunting daisies and cow- 
 slips; and in bad weather I will make 
 them bloom on paper. Thus am I 
 prepared for all weathers—I cannot do 
 without an object. 111 town my object 
 was amusement and admiration. So 
 it shall be still. My amusemeia shall 
 be collecting and perpetuating some of 
 the most beautiful productions .f na- 
 ture; and I will admire liiem^. instead: 
 ©f being admired myself. 
 
 My country air and exercise are not 
 lost; for I already see a rosy tinge steal- 
 ing over my cheeks. Eleanor brought 
 her's along with her; and she may re- 
 joice that we did not give her an oppor- 
 tunity to rub it off, in the midnight 
 revels of London. 
 
 My mother does not so well accom- 
 modate her mind to her situation as 
 myself. She is less dexible and too 
 
36 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 old to run after daisies. Accustomed 
 for a longer time, to company and dis- 
 sipation, she cannot so easily find re- 
 sources around her, or within herself. 
 She seeks no employment, and takes 
 no exercise ; but shuts herself up with 
 Horton, in her dressing room, for hours 
 together. What may be the subjects 
 of their conversation, I cannot even 
 guess. 
 
 To-morrow we go to church. It is 
 
 nearly a mile distant, but we purpos^e 
 
 to walk ; my mother having, as yoii 
 
 know, no other means of getting thither. 
 
 Surely, we shall see somebody ! Surely 
 
 we shall get a bow from the Vicar I 
 
 O, that ever 1 should be fallen so low, 
 
 should be so totally helpless, as to place 
 
 my hopes on a bow from the Vicar ! 
 
 It is time to assure you that 
 
 I am truly your's, 
 
 Charlotte Merevax. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 37 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, March 7, J 812, 
 
 You tell me I am still i^emembered. 
 Ah! Harriet, if I lose my Chancery 
 suit, I shall be remembered only to be 
 condemned. Never mind! my herbal 
 goes on swimmingly ! I have already 
 copied the cold snow-drop, the golden 
 crocus, the humble violet, and the 
 stinging nettle ; for I am determined 
 to make drawing a moral business, 
 and to remind myself of the bitters, as 
 well as the sweets, of this mingled 
 world. 
 
 On Sunday, as we intended, we went 
 to church. The Vicar was so struck 
 with our appearance, that it, more 
 than once, puzzled his performance; 
 
S8 THE MISER MARRIEBi 
 
 and I do believe he thought of the bow 
 I had bespoken at the end of it, when 
 he ought to have been thinking of the 
 lessons he was giving us. 
 
 The next day, imagining he was 
 bound in honour to return our visit to- 
 his church, he called upon- us in his 
 carriage, accompanied by his wife. 
 The long-tailed, slouch headed beasts^ 
 were taken from the plough, for the 
 occasion: and the lank-hrried plough- 
 boy lost half his day's work to drive 
 themi The parson is faty ooar<?e, and* 
 vulgar; and his lady more fat, more 
 coarse, and intended by nature to be 
 more vulgar; but sBe has happily sur- 
 mounted the obstacle* which nature 
 threw^ in the way of her being elegant: 
 and polite. 
 
 Our interesting visitors began by 
 assuring us that they had taken the 
 first opportunity of waiting upon us, 
 
THne MISER MARHIED. 39 
 
 and hoped we should be very good 
 neighbours. " Indeed, ma'am," said, 
 the lady, addressing herself to my mo- 
 ther, ** this liere is a very sad place ; 
 but we will do all we can to make it 
 agreeable to you. I dare say, by your 
 genteelness you are a Londoner^ and 
 you will think it wastly dull, especially 
 at first. I am a Londoner, myself," 
 continued the lady, raising herself in 
 her chair, " and was always used to a 
 heap of people, till I married Mr. 
 Thacker ; and when I first came into 
 the country,! thought it most monstrous 
 stupid and fartigumg . " 
 
 " I was not born in London," said 
 my mother, " thou^gh I have lived a 
 good deal in it ; but I think this coun- 
 try very beautifal." 
 
 <^ O, yes^" rejohied Mrs. Thacker, 
 ** the prospecks are rvery pretty to be 
 sure ^ but the neighbourhood is quit^ 
 
 --**«s«gj!i>^<g^;*^^^^g^ 
 
40 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 shocking-. There is not a creter you 
 can wisity but 7ve'^ 
 
 " Pray," asked I, " does nobody 
 visit the gentleman that lives in yonder 
 park?" 
 
 " Visit himT exclaimed Mr. Thack- 
 er. " It is beneath any christian to 
 enter his gates, if he would let him!" 
 
 " Have you, then, who are the 
 clergyman of his parish, no acquaint- 
 ance with him," demanded my mo- 
 ther ? 
 
 " God forbid I should," answered 
 the reverend gentleman. 
 
 " God forbid, indeed," added the 
 lady ; "for he's the vorst of all flesh !" 
 
 " Pray in what respect," asked my 
 mother ? 
 
 " In every respeck in the vorlcly^ re- 
 plied Mrs. Thacker. " In the first 
 place, he was married to a sweet. 
 
 -^^^^^-'T::::^-^!^:'^^^^^ 
 
THE MISER MARRIEB. 41 
 
 beautiful voman ; and he never let her 
 rest, till he had broke her heart. In 
 the second place, he has but one son, a 
 weyy fine clever young fellow, and he 
 never has sixpence in his pocket. In 
 the third place, he screws up all his 
 tenants, and goes to law with all his 
 neighbours. He even went to law 
 with Mr. Thacker, here, about paying 
 bis tythes; and, since then, he never 
 goes to church." 
 
 " These accusations are truly shock- 
 ing," said I. 
 
 " O, dreadful. Ma'am," returned 
 Mrs. Thacker! " He has but one 
 good property about him ; and that is, 
 he will pay his debts." 
 
 I felt the colour in my cheeks, and 
 charity for my neighbour in my heart, 
 at the same moment. 
 " Does he shun society himself," ask 
 
4S THE MISER MARRIEP^, 
 
 ed my cousin ? < * or does every body 
 fly from him ?" 
 
 " Both/' replied Mrs. Thacker. 
 " He won't let rnv oody enter his 
 gates, hut his lawyer : and nobody 
 would go near him, it they might. He 
 used to prolyl abcut his park, like a 
 mastiff; and watch if any bod)^ came; 
 and ask them what business they had 
 there ; and so nobody dares to gd 
 anighliim.'" 
 
 " Mr. Winterctale^s singular habits: 
 are unfortmiate for us," said my mo- 
 ther. ** We should have been g-lad of 
 an agreeable lieighbour so near us." 
 
 *' Mo?Tistrous mifortuaate, indeed," 
 said Mrs Thacker. " I should like 
 an agreeable neighbour, myself, of all 
 things ] but, really there is not a creter 
 one can notice : nothing but farmer's 
 wives and daughters. I do send for 
 two or three of them, sometimes ; but. 
 
THE MISER MAMtlEB, 48 
 
 upon my word, they are so excessive 
 nmlfjar there's no bearing them. How- 
 ever, Ma'am, we shall always be pur- 
 digioiis happy to see you and the la- 
 dies ; and so we must make it up to 
 one another." 
 
 After a little more of the same kind 
 of conversation, which, though not re- 
 markable for its elegance, gave us 
 some idea of the land we live in, the 
 gentleman and lady took then- leave. 
 
 I think, as my mother does, that we 
 are unfortunate in our neighbom's. 
 When I found there w^ere a hall and a 
 parsonage at Winterdale, I hoped to 
 have found twa conversable families ; 
 biu the one will not speak to us, and 
 of the other's eloquence we shall soon 
 be weary. There is still a fine, clever 
 youiig fellow to come, however ; though 
 he is without sixpence in his pocket*^ 
 I have some hopes of him ; but I must 
 
44 THE MISER MARRIEI>. 
 
 not let them carry me too far ; because, 
 perhaps, I may not have a sixpence in 
 my own. He is come, but we have 
 not seen him. 
 
 What a wretch is Mr. Winterdale, 
 if this worthy couple say true ! I would 
 fain take off something from their re- 
 port, on accomit of the suit about the 
 tythes, as I understand Mr. Thacker 
 bought the living, and he might pos- 
 sibly be desirous to reimburse himself 
 a little too hastily ; but I cannot hear 
 one word in mitigation of Mr. Win- 
 terdale's offences. His estate is said 
 to be more than six thousand pounds 
 per annum : he is said to have upwards 
 of thirty thousand guineas in his cof- 
 fers; and his whole establishment con- 
 sists of two men and one woman ser- 
 vant ; besides a gardener and a keeper, 
 who do not live in the house. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale's first man looks as 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 45 
 
 much like a gentleman as his master. 
 He has lived with him nearly twenty 
 years, and strange to tell, has the good 
 word and good wishes of every living soul, 
 his master, himself, not excepted. He is 
 house steward, and land steward ; butler, 
 and footman; valet, and purveyor. If ever 
 his master does^ a good action, it is at 
 the instigation of this man. His name 
 is Mendall. 
 
 The second man has lived with Mr. 
 Winterdale seven years. He is an ho- 
 nest rustic, who is groom, and man of 
 all work, under the other. 
 
 The woman servant is a staid maiden, 
 verging upon forty, who goes by the 
 name of housekeeper; though she fills 
 the diflferent offices of cook, house-maid, 
 and laundry-maid, in addition to that 
 from which she receives her title. She 
 has been with Mr. Winterdale Mteea 
 years. The whole house is shut up; 
 
46 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 except two eating rooms ; two sleeping 
 rooms, for the father and son ; and one, 
 for each of the servants. These the 
 poor woman cleans by stealth ; as sh« 
 can get her master out of the way. 
 
 If you ask from what source I have 
 gained this information, I answer, 
 from the only one whence it could 
 possibly be derived — from servants. 
 Ralph, the rustic, has been several times 
 at the lodge, and is very communica- 
 tive over a glass of strong beer ; though 
 as much afraid, as if he were speaking 
 treason. Eleanor and I sleep in the 
 same room ; and, when Robinson, her 
 maid, attends us, she has entertained us 
 with Ralph's narrations. This is not 
 very honourable, you will say. But, my 
 dear, if we will not allow a servant to 
 talk, at the lodge, we can never hear 
 any voices but our own. 
 
 There is something incomprehensible 
 
THE MISER MAHRIED. 47 
 
 in the character of this Mr. Winterdale. 
 A bad husband, and a bad father — how 
 can he be a good master? how can 
 good servants live with him ? wanting, 
 too, as he is, in rhe point most essential, 
 in their esthiialion ; generosity ? for 
 generosity is with them what charity is 
 wilh the whole species: it covers a mul^ 
 titude of sins. If the master be liberal, 
 the servants not only feel the benefit; 
 but they share the honour, and boast of 
 his good deeds, as if they were their 
 own. If he be parsimonious, they are 
 not only losers ; but they are ashamed 
 of him, and participate in his disgrace. 
 I cannot understand Mr, Winterdale, 
 unless I saw him nearer. 
 
 The father of Mr, Thacker was a 
 tallow chandler, in a country town, who, 
 wishing to have his son a gentleman, 
 brought him up to the church. By the, 
 
48 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 time the son had obtained a curacy of 
 forty pounds a year, the father was be- 
 come a bankrupt; and forty pounds a 
 year might have been the g-entleman's 
 income still, if he had not, luckily met 
 with his present wife. Mrs. Thacker 
 was the only child of a rich fishmonger 
 in London, who died, and left her about 
 ten thousand pounds. She came into 
 the country, on a visit to her relations, 
 and it happened that the kind stars of 
 Mr. Thacker had placed him, as a 
 boarder, in the same family. Miss 
 Salmon was very desirous to be a lady. 
 She gave up her title of fishmonger's 
 daughter, for that of clergyman's wife ; 
 a part of her fortune was settled upon 
 her ; the other part was given to Mr. 
 Winterdale, for her husband's induction 
 to the vicarage of this place ; and the 
 lady has looked down upon the whole 
 
TttE MISER IWCARRIED. 4d 
 
 parish ever since. When she said that 
 Mr. Winterdale was the worst of all 
 flesh, it would have been in character to 
 have added that he was an odd fish. 
 
 If you will not let Robinson talk, yon 
 must not let me write. 
 
 Ever your's, 
 
 Charlotte Merevai.. 
 
 VOL. I, B 
 
50 THE MISER MAURTBi>. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, March 14, 1812. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 We went in a trio, to return the 
 
 visit of our neighbours, the Thackers ; 
 
 and my mother has been prevailed 
 
 upon by them, to take a step, which 
 
 does not appear to me a very safe one ; 
 
 to go with them to an assembly 
 
 at the next country town. I suppose 
 
 the chances are a million to one that 
 
 we shall not meet any person who has 
 
 ever seen us before ; but while that one 
 
 was possible, I would have kept close 
 
 in my covert. Between ourselves, I 
 
 am a little afraid of my mother. I am 
 
 convinced she leads a miserable life, 
 
 though she does not complain of it. 
 
^HE MISER J^ARRIED. 51 
 
 iSiie catches at the very Thackers, ra- 
 ther than be without company, and 
 looks forwards to her public entree into 
 a little country assembly with as much 
 pleasure as I have heard her express 
 at the dejeune of a Duchess. Indeed 
 it has set us all in motion ; and be it 
 known to you, Harriet, that Mr. 
 Thacker is not the only gentleman of 
 our party. 
 
 We found, at the Yicarag'e, a tall, 
 straight, thin, very thin man, about 
 twenty-six years of age, with hand- 
 some delicate features, a fair complex- 
 ion, a hand like a lady's, and a squeak- 
 ing voice, like nothing I ever heard 
 before. This gentleman, Mr. Thacker 
 introduced to us as his nephew. 
 
 " Indeed," said Mrs. Thacker, '' I 
 am purdigious happy that Mr. Sharp 
 happened to come just now; for you 
 know. Ma'am," addressiia^* herself to 
 
 DNIVERSITY OF ILLlNOkS 
 LIBRARY 
 
52 TME MTSER MARRIED. 
 
 my mother, " tlioiioh you and me 
 might be iveri/ good company for one 
 another, yet young ladies like young 
 gentlemen ; and now we shall all be 
 suited;' 
 
 " To suit us all," said Mr. Thacker, 
 ** we should Imve one or two more 
 gentlemen." 
 
 ** You g-entlemen must have your 
 joke," said his wife, " but I don't know 
 v?i€7^€ you can find such another as 
 Mr. Sharp. He's a real gentleman, 
 ladies. He k^cps his carriage, and 
 does nothing in the vorld. His father, 
 to be sure, was in business, but he got 
 a hundred thousand pound ; that's a 
 plumb, as we say in London ; and 
 when he had given twenty thousand to 
 his daughter, he had fours<iore thou- 
 sand to leave to his son; and if that is 
 not enough to make a gentleman, T 
 don't know what is." 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 53 
 
 We coiigi-atulated Mr. Shai-p on his 
 good fortune 3 when he poured forth 
 such a torrent of nonsense as I never 
 lieard in my life. I thought I would 
 send you this and that speech, as he 
 was chattering at the rate of ten lo-' 
 quacious chambermaids, but the}^ wer^ 
 composed of such untangibie stuff, 
 that I could not retain them. I fear I 
 can give you no idea of iiis elocution. 
 Poor Mrs. Thacker could hardly find 
 room to ^^lide in a sentence, and her 
 husband did not attempt it. At length 
 die raised her voice, and cried, 
 
 *' I told you ladies, what good com- 
 pany Mr. Sharp was. It's impossible 
 to be dull, when he's by. But you don't 
 know half his ricommendations yet : 
 he sings like a niyhtbigirl, and he 
 dances^iike an angiiy 
 
 " O dear, aunt, now I wonder at 
 you," said Mr. Sharp, '' How can you 
 d3 
 
54 THE MISEH MARRIED. 
 
 go to say so ? I'm sure I niver pre- 
 tend to sing at all, nor to dance neither. 
 If nuhhody had a better vice than I 
 have, nuhhody would iver sing. I'm 
 sure its enugh to frighten the crows, 
 and if I was to go to sing, I'll be bound 
 for it the ladies would all run away 
 friim me." 
 
 There needs not your singing to ac- 
 complish that, thought I, if we were 
 at liberty to run away. 
 
 " Veil, Veil;' said Mrs. Thacker, 
 "we shall get you some night, after 
 supper, and then we'll call upon you, 
 and then you shall call upon the ladies. 
 That's our vay in London, you know, 
 Maam." 
 
 My mother said that Miss Mowbray 
 and Miss Mereval would, with plea- 
 sure, contribute their share to the 
 amusement of • the company, at any 
 time. 
 
THE MISER MARIllED. 55 
 
 *' O law, Ma'am," cried Mr. Sharp, 
 " I'm always willing to ohleege the com- 
 pany, every think in my power. I'll 
 do my best^ but as for singing so well 
 as my aunt says I do, you must not 
 expect any sich a thing, though I am 
 sure I'm much ohleeged to her for her 
 good word ; but when I come to go to 
 sing before ladies, I am all over in a 
 trembleation. But you must excuse it, 
 I'll do as well as iver I can." 
 
 I was afraid Mr. Sharp was going 
 to do as well as ever he could, at that 
 moment; but Mrs. Thacker prevented 
 him, saying, "No, no, after supper's 
 the time. We never sing in London 
 till after supper. Besides, I've a pur- 
 posal to make to the ladies here. 
 We've a wery nice assembly in the 
 next town, Ma'am, a wery pleasant 
 meeting indeed, quite a seleck party. 
 There's some folks one cannot notice. 
 
56 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 to be sure, but then one need not take 
 any notice of them, you know. Mr. 
 Thacker and I are subscribers, and 
 we shall be amazing happy to mterduce 
 you and the ladies, if you will give us 
 leave. The last night this season is 
 next Thursday but one, and I shall 
 be wasly proud to take you in oar 
 carriage with Mr. Thacker and me ; 
 and I dare say, Mr. Sharp will be so 
 obliging as to send for a po sJiay, for 
 himself and the ladies. Won't you, 
 Mr. Sharp ?" 
 
 *' O dear, yes, certainly," replied 
 Mr. Sharp, " I am sure I would not 
 ^pile an agreeable party for all the world. 
 When you mentioned it yesterday, I 
 was heavaty quecwaty, and I thought I 
 should like to go, and then I thought 
 I should not like to go ; but to favour 
 the ladies, I would not Jiisitate a minute 
 I woidd go anywhere in the world." 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 57 
 
 « Then," said Mrs. Thacker, " it's 
 all settled. You have no objection, 
 Mrs. Mereval?" 
 
 ^'Indeed," replied my mother, "I 
 do not know what to say to it. I came 
 into the country with a resolution to go 
 to no piihlic place whatever." 
 
 " O, Ma'am," said Mrs. Thacker,, 
 "this here is nothing at all : not like the 
 great concus of people that you and 
 me have been used to, in London : just 
 a snug party,, of fifteen couple to dance, 
 and two or three card tables; that's 
 all." 
 
 " Well," said my mother, <* I think 
 we will venture to go." 
 
 I felt very uneasy, and said nothing. 
 
 " But," continued my mother, " you 
 must give me leave to make a trifling 
 alteration in your plan. You can take 
 Mr. Sharp, and i will take cliarg-e of 
 Miss Mowbray and Miss Mereval." 
 d5 
 
68 THE MISER MARRIED, 
 
 « O, dear Ma'am," said Mr. Sharp, 
 before Mrs. Thacker could reply, "pray 
 don't deprive me of the pleasure of tak- 
 ing care of the young ladies. It will 
 be the very charminc/est thing in the 
 world for me to take them in a post 
 chaise ; as for the expence, I'm sure I 
 don't think anythink at all about it." 
 
 " And you will be much better com- 
 modated in our carriage," added Mrs, 
 Thacker. ** Them nasty po shays are 
 wery horrid. Let the young folks put 
 up with them there inconrveniences,^* 
 
 " But you know, Mrs. Thacker,'* 
 said my mother, " that in London we 
 do not suffer young women to go out 
 without a chaperone*^ 
 
 Mrs. Thacker seemed at a loss for a 
 moment, and then cried, " Veil, veil; 
 as you please. Them shoproons are 
 wery good things in London 5 but 1 
 
THE MISER MARKIED. 69 
 
 thought we might do weri/ veil vithout 
 them here, in the country." 
 
 " Miss Mowbray," said Mr. Sharp, 
 ^* if your aunt is so cruel as not to give 
 us leave to go together to the assembly, 
 I hope you will allow me the happiness 
 to have the honour to dance with you, 
 when we get there. My aunt Thacker 
 flatters me in saying that I am a good 
 dancer. I hope you won't believe I am 
 any sick a thing; for I know nothink 
 at all of dancing: I only hop a little, 
 sometimes, for my own amoosement ; 
 but I must own and confess that I think 
 dancing the very delightfullest thing in 
 all the world ; and no pleasure can be 
 equil to that of dancing with you." 
 
 " I'm sure Miss Mowbray^s much 
 obliged to you," said Mrs. Thacken 
 ** She can have tto objection to dance 
 with you/' added she, looking at Elea- 
 nor? 
 
60 THE MISER MAKRIED. 
 
 *< Certainly not," said Miss Mowbray, 
 and bowed. 
 
 Though I was sorry for poor Eleanor, 
 I could not help inwardly laughing* at 
 her vexation. The gentleman, to shew 
 his politeness to his promised partner, 
 attended us home. He talked to us the 
 whole way, without ceasing; but, in- 
 stead of endeavouring to recollect his 
 conversation, I ought rather to apolo- 
 gize, for having already given you so 
 much of his effeminate folly, and the 
 bold vulgarity of his aunt. 
 
 But we have seen a being of a dif- 
 ferent mould. Only seen him, yet; but 
 
 I mean to have him if I can. As 
 
 Eleanor and I were walking along a 
 path, leading through a beautiful wood, 
 we saw, advancing towards us, a man 
 — such a man — so handsome, so well 
 made, so elegant; and, at the same 
 
THE MISER MARllIED. 01 
 
 time, so " woe-begone"- — that it could 
 be no other than Mr. Heiiiy Winter- 
 dale. His only ostensible companion 
 was a fine spaniel dog* ; but his real 
 cempanions seemed to be his own 
 thoughts. Our path was narrow, and 
 we passed him close. He looked at us, 
 with evident surprize ; but, instead of 
 transferrin »• his eves to senseless stock* 
 and stones, he fixed them upon us, and 
 made us a respectful bow. He has not 
 one lineament of his father in him. That 
 I will venture to pronounce. Whoever 
 his mother was, she has happily trans- 
 mitted her beauties and graces, and, as 
 I believe, her virtues, to her son. He 
 owes nothing to his father, but his 
 name. 
 
 Now, would not you think it a most 
 extraordinary coincidence of circum* 
 stances, that we should meet the same 
 
62 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 gentleman, in the same spot, and at the^ 
 same hour, the next day ? nay, still 
 more extraordinary, that we should 
 have done so every day since ? yet such 
 is the fact. It is certainly the most 
 attractive walk in the country, so we 
 are under no temptation to change it^ 
 which is lucky enough; for, if we 
 were to do so, it would almost look 
 like breaking an appointment. 
 
 Tell me, will this nonpareil be at 
 the assembly ? Does he ever go to 
 assemblies ? Does he even go any 
 where, without asking his father's 
 leave ? He looks noble and manly, — 
 surely he cannot descend to such tame 
 submission as that ! — Ah ! he has not 
 sixpence in his pocket ; an evil no 
 person can contend with, except by such 
 unworthy means as we have used ! 
 If he is at the assembly, however, he 
 dances with me, that is certain; for 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 63 
 
 Eleanor is engaged; and where can 
 he find, on the banks of the Wye, 
 two such damsels as Eleanor Mowbray, 
 and 
 
 Your 
 Charlotte Merevai*. 
 
64 THE MISER MAHRIEB. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, Mar. 21, 1812'. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 Tlmrsd ay e veiling found us all array- 
 ed for the ball. With Eleanor and me 
 simplicity was the v» ord. We wore 
 light embroidered muslins, sparingly 
 adorned with lace ; and my dark hair, 
 and Eleanor's auburn, were fastened 
 with a single comb. A set of cornelians^ 
 for me, and of amber for her, were all' 
 9ur ornaments. My mother indulged her- 
 self with a few pearls, and looked charm- 
 ingly. I sighed as I entered what Mrs. 
 Thacker called " The nasty po-shay." 
 
 We drove to the parsonage, and pro- 
 ceeded, in due foim, to the assembly 
 rooms, six miles distant ; the comman- 
 
THE MISEU MARRTJGD. (35 
 
 cfant gentleman's carriage leading* the 
 van, and the subaltern post chaise 
 brino'ino' up the rear. 
 
 We found the company such as might 
 have been expected, and such as were 
 little likely to know us — ^the clergy of 
 the neighbourhood, with their families; 
 and the lawyers and poticaries of the 
 town, (which is not a small one) with 
 their's. Trade finds no admission here ; 
 and these petty professors of divinity, 
 law, and physic, are more anxious to ex- 
 clude it, and more tenacious of their rank 
 above it, than those w ould be, whom 
 fortune has placed at a greater distance 
 from it. But the distinction does not 
 quite end here. Those whom Mrs, 
 Thacker conceived it impossible to no- 
 tice, w ere the refuse of the privileged 
 professions. 
 
 We found the dress of the females, 
 that of London almost caricatured^ 
 scantiness made more scanty, and 
 
60 THE MISER MARRIEU. 
 
 waists flourishing in more than their 
 accustomed length. Mrs. Thacker 
 had, judiciously envelloped her capa- 
 cious figure in a rich rose-coloured sa- 
 tin ; wisely imagining that an exact 
 display of its proportions, would not 
 be much in its favour. The men, in- 
 stead of exceeding those in town, were 
 far behind them. No groom-like ap- 
 pearance was affected here ; no bang 
 up coachman, or Bond-street lounger 
 ever became the model of the place. 
 
 I amused myself with such observa- 
 tions as these, till I began to scruti- 
 nize the male part of the assembly, 
 with a view to my own interest. This 
 was contemptible ; that I certainly 
 could not dance with ; and the other 
 I was not quite sure whether I could 
 dance with or no ; till, in the midst of 
 my reflections, I saw every bird of the 
 air come and choose his mate, and I 
 
THE MISER MARRIEB. 67 
 
 was left without any mate at all! 
 Would you believe it ? The whole 
 company stood up for country dances ; 
 and myself, and two other forlorn 
 girls, only, were left behind ! I assure 
 you, this produced a great revolution 
 in my sentiments. Eleanor, whom I 
 had pitied before, had got a partner 
 that really did not dance amiss, and 
 was dancing herself like one of the 
 Graces : while I sat smiling, and talk- 
 ing to my mother and Mrs. Thacker, 
 for fear people should think I was 
 mortified. I looked with an eye of 
 complacency at the contemptibles, 
 and thought this was very well; that 
 was tolerable ; and even the other 
 might have done better than sitting* 
 still. I endeavoured to console my- 
 self with the idea that fear, alone, had 
 prevented them from approaching me ; 
 but I could not help confessing that a 
 
68 THE MISER :»JAPvPvlED. 
 
 little of their. love would have been 
 preferable to such fear. 
 
 Every time the door opened, I anx- 
 ionsiy turned my eyes towards it, in 
 search of Pvlr. Henry Winterdale. In 
 the middle of the second dance I saw 
 liim enter. I now^ talked to my mo- 
 ther with more earnestness than ever, 
 determined not to make the first ad- 
 vances, but expecting-, every moment, 
 he would find his way to me. No ; 
 I might have talked till now, before he 
 had interrupted me. At length I 
 looked for him ; he w as engag-ed in 
 conversation w ith some of the elderly 
 men, who did not dance, and seemed 
 quite unconscious that I was in the 
 room. When I caught his eye, he 
 bowed ; but moved not from the place 
 where he was standing. Well, thought 
 I, I will not have you, however ! You. 
 
THE ailSER MARRIEU. G9 
 
 know, Harriet, I only promised to 
 have him— ^if I could. 
 At last, entered two oiticers, both 
 well looking*, but one of them the 
 handsomest man I ever saw, with dark 
 complexion, and very fine black eyes. 
 How could it be possible that oili-cers 
 should not enter into my calcula- 
 tions, at a country assembly, when 
 I know soldiers ^le so abundant 
 in every country town? I can only 
 account for it by my ideas being- 
 absorbed by creatures of another 
 species. Now, thought T, I shall have 
 my reveng-e. I cast a side-long 
 glance at the two other unprovided- 
 for Misses, and found they could not 
 at aU come into com^petition with 
 your 'Charlotte, I saw, without seem- 
 ing to see, the handsome officer go up 
 to the master of the ceremonies, and, 
 in a few minutes, they advanced toga- 
 
70 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 tiier, to the place where we were sit- 
 ting. My heart beat with expectation. 
 But how was I electrified when the 
 master of the ceremonies said, that 
 Captain Montgomery begged to have 
 the honour of dancing with me. The 
 Captain bowed, and I bowed, and he 
 led me to the dancers. Who is Cap- 
 tain Montgomery ? Undoubtedly 
 there are many families of that name ; 
 but there is a possibility that he may 
 be of my fan ily ! that he may 
 even be the son of the Indian Mont- 
 gomery, who claims my father's estate. 
 O, how many po sibillties are attached 
 to this, that I dare not even think of ! 
 My mother, however, sees them all, 
 and speaks of them without reserve. 
 
 We passed a most ao;'reeable 
 evening. My partner was all my ut- 
 most wishes could fancy; sensible, 
 agreeable, animated, and attentive. 
 His brother officer paired with one of 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 71 
 
 the forsaken damsels, who, no doubt, 
 congratulated herself upon having 
 drawn a prize. The other, finding all 
 hopes extinguished, withdrew to over- 
 look the card tables; for Mr. Henry 
 Winterdale, the only disengaged young 
 man in the room, did not choose to take 
 compassitn on her lonely situation. 
 After walking and conversing for an 
 hour or two, with different parties, we 
 saw him no more. 
 
 When the dancing was ended, our 
 partners attended us to the carriage. I 
 confess my vanity suffered in letting 
 Captain Montgomery see what a car- 
 riage. But I comforted myself by re- 
 flecting that, if he had not danced with 
 a lady of the post chaise, he might have 
 been reduced to a nymph of the pattens; 
 for, wrapped in pelisses, and armed 
 with pattens, did both he and ourselves 
 see many of the ladies, fighting their 
 
72 THE MISER MARRIED* 
 
 way home, tliroiig-h cold and dirt, with 
 the assistance of their serv?*nt maids. 
 As Captain Montgomery handed in my 
 mother, he asked her permission to 
 wait upon her, the next day, to enquire 
 after her health, and that of Miss Mere- 
 val and Miss Mowbray. You will 
 imagine she granted it with pleasure. 
 
 Mr. Thacker's carriage led the way, 
 as before. At first we followed close; 
 but as their horses had iu idea the com- 
 forts of their own stable, and our' s consi- 
 dered that they were going from home, 
 by degrees, we were left far behind. 
 We now discovered another rei^son for 
 it ; the post boy was so much intoxicat- 
 ed, that he bowed from side to side, in 
 his dicky, and was utterly incapable of 
 ofuidinof either himself or his horses. 
 Eleanoi' and 1 did not like our situation ; 
 but, as it was not in our power to mend 
 it, we each, severally determined to be 
 
THE MISER MAllRIEB. 73 
 
 silent; and trust to the sagacity of the 
 horses, and the protection of that Power 
 which overlooks j*lLthe actions both of 
 men and beasts. At last, the post-boy 
 was thrown out of his seat, by a sudden 
 jolt ; my mother screamed ; the horses 
 were frightened, and set off. At that 
 moment a gentleman ran up to their 
 heads ; stopped them ; seized the reins, 
 and stepped into the dickey. It was 
 Mr. Henry Winterdale. Who, now, 
 shall say that gentlemen should not learn 
 to drive? Of all the arts invented by 
 knights errant, of old, for the rescue of 
 distressed damsels, who ever heard of 
 driving a post-chaise ? 
 
 Robert, my cousin's man, who was 
 behind the carriage, and had been ig- 
 norant of our situation, till he heard my 
 mother^s scream, and found the horses 
 running away, now jumped down, and 
 came to the chaise door. Mr. Henry 
 
 TOL. I. E 
 
74 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 Winterdale desired him to go back and 
 see whether the post-boy was hurt ; and 
 he soon returned witL the agreeable ti- 
 dings that he was safe. Mr. Henry 
 then told us that he was at one of the 
 windows of the inn in which the assem- 
 bly-room was, when we set out, on our 
 return; that he saw the incapacity of the 
 post-boy, and had walked by the side 
 of the chaise, in his way home, to be at 
 hand, in case of accident; and that he 
 would supply his place, if we would 
 give him leave. We overwhelmed him 
 with thanks, and not without reason ; 
 for we soon after passed a stone quarry, 
 into which a very little irregularity in 
 the horses might have precipitated us. 
 
 The post-boy was left to the care of 
 Robert, who led him to a house, to 
 sober himself, till his chaise came back; 
 and Mr. Henry Winterdale set us down 
 in safety, at our own door. My mother 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 75 
 
 hoped he would g-ive her an opportunity 
 to renew her thanks, at the Lodge. He 
 replied that he was already overpaid by 
 the pleasure of serving us ; but that if he 
 were so happy as to meet Miss Mereval 
 and Miss Mowbray in their walks, he 
 should rejoice to learn we had none of us 
 suffered by our fright. He then wished 
 us a good night. 
 
 The next morniiio' our first visitors 
 were Mrs. Thacker and Mr. Sharp. 
 The lady inquired how we liked our 
 last night's amusement, and we all pro- 
 fessed to be pleased with it. " t told 
 you,'^ said she, ** you would find it wasly 
 pleasant. For my part, I'm rvery 
 sorry there's no more assemblies this 
 winter; for it's the only time we can all 
 meet together, and enjoy ourselves^ 
 But we stopped a minute at the door, 
 after we got home, continued she, and 
 we never see nothing at all of you,'* 
 e2 
 
76 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 My mother then related the accident 
 which had detained us. " 0, Lord 
 God," exclaimed Mrs. Thacker, " How 
 shocking!'' T told you what would come 
 of them dibovamdihle po-shays ; but you 
 would not oro with us ''* 
 
 " O, dear, O, dear," cried Mr. Sharp, 
 " I niver heard the like in all my life ! 
 I'm glad I was not with you ; for I am 
 so dehiliated with nervous disorders, 
 that I should have been frightened out 
 of my wits ! I am sure I should have 
 fainted ; for I have fainted, several 
 times, at a less thing than that !" 
 
 '* I am very glad too, if that is the 
 case," said I, " for we should have been 
 at a loss how to manage fainting gentle- 
 men. We were more fortunate in meet- 
 ing with one who could drive a pair of 
 horses." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Sharp, " now that, 
 to me, is a very surprizing thing! I 
 
THE MISER MARRIEB, 77 
 
 have often wondered how gentlemen, 
 that have been brought up in dining- 
 rooms, and drawing-rooms, and not in 
 stables, could iver be so bold and ven- 
 turesom as to drive horses ! If I was to 
 come to go to drive ahorse, I should be 
 all of a tremble ! I keep a carriage, as 
 well as other gentlemen; but I'm sure I 
 had rather trust to a good stout coach- 
 man than myself." 
 
 " You are a wise man," said I; " for 
 you know yourself." 
 
 Captain Montgomery was then an- 
 nounced. Mr. Sharp told him the story 
 of our return from the assembly. He 
 blamed himself exceedingly, for not 
 having attended us home, and said he 
 envied the gentleman who had rendered 
 us the assistance. 
 " Indeed, and so do not I," said Mr. 
 Sharp !" I should have been in the chaise 
 myself, only Mrs. Mereval durst not 
 E 3 
 
78 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 trust me with the young ladies ; and I 
 am sure I should have squalled louder 
 than she did! Nobody admires the ladies 
 more than I do; but I had much rether 
 dance with one of them than break my 
 neck with her." 
 
 " So had I," said the captain ; " but I 
 should be glad to run any risk of 
 breaking my own neck, to save her's." 
 
 " Aye, but I could not have saved 
 her's, any more than my own, if the 
 horses would overturn the carriage, you 
 know." 
 
 " Not unless you could have done as 
 the gentleman did; stopped them." 
 
 " O, dear me, sir, that would have 
 been impossible! What would have 
 been my strength, against the strength 
 of two great horses ? I might as well 
 have tried to move the church, as stop 
 them* Why sir, when I only came to 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 79 
 
 come to go down the dance, I was 
 ready to drop!'* 
 
 " Ifthat isthecase, sir/* said Captain 
 Montgomery, " I pity you.'* 
 
 This last flower of Mr. Sharp's rhe- 
 toric reminds me of part of a speech 
 said to have been delivered in a debating 
 society in London. The matter in de- 
 bate was, " Which was the better to 
 oil a man's wig with, honey, or mus- 
 tard ?" The orator on the honey side 
 of the question got up, and made his 
 speech. The advocate for mustard then 
 rose, and began with, " For a man for 
 to come, for to go, for to think, for to 
 say, that honey is better to oil a man's 
 wig with than mustard, is monstrous, 
 absurd, and ridiculous, stupid and 
 silly !" 
 
 The conversation continued some 
 time longer. Eleanor grew uneasy, 
 and looked repeatedly at her watch. 
 
so THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 My mother observed it, and said, 
 " Charlotte, it is your time to walk : I 
 am sure Mrs. Thacker and these gentle- 
 men will excuse you. We entertain no 
 gentlemen," continued she ; ** but we 
 diall be happy to see either of you, for 
 a morning call, as often as it is agree- 
 able to yourselves." They both begged 
 permission to accompany us, in our 
 walk ; and each attached himself to his 
 former partner; Mrs. Thacker some-* 
 times joining the first couple, and some- 
 times the second. I had every reason 
 to be content with my companion : poor 
 Eleanor was sad; and, when we enter- 
 ed the wood, fixed her eyes on the end 
 of the path, to see if our gallant knight 
 had made his appearance. I had a 
 glance of him, at the extremity of the 
 wood; and so, I doubt net, had she; 
 but he struck off into a different road, 
 and deferred his enquiries whether we 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 81 
 
 had suffered from our fright, till another 
 opportunity. 
 
 Our hour of walking is again arrived, 
 and Eleanor urges me to go. Patience, 
 my dear — I have only to tell Miss Castle* 
 main that I am 
 
 Truly her's, 
 
 Charlotte MerevaLo 
 
 i: a 
 
82 THE MISER MARRrEB, 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 • TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, March 28, 1&12. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 This week I have given to reading 
 novels. Mr. Sharp sent his man to the 
 town for a cargo of them, and, before 
 he explored any of their contents, brought 
 one to us. I took it up, and read it 
 through. No matter what the name — 
 it is not worth remembering. It is 
 strange how novels possess me ! Though 
 the characters are not marked ; though 
 the events are improbable; though the 
 language is not even grammatical, I 
 have no repose till I see the hero and 
 heroine fairly married; and, for that 
 reason, I seldom trust myself with a 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 83 
 
 novel. Nor am I the only person under 
 the influence of their magpie spell. Our 
 physician, in town, a very grave and 
 learned man, and the author of a scien- 
 tific work, once found me reading" a 
 novel ; and acknowledged that he never 
 ventured to begin one himself, as he 
 should, assuredly, neoflect his patients, 
 till he had got to the end: and my 
 mother was once in the library of the 
 first philosopher the present age has 
 produced; when observing the Arabian 
 and Persian tales, and expressing some 
 surprize at finding them in such a place, 
 he told her he was particularly fond of 
 them. 
 
 The second novel Mr. Sharp brought 
 w^as Amelia Mansfield; translated from 
 the French. I determined here to go 
 on cautiously, and make reading only 
 an interlude : but vain was my resolu- 
 tion. Once got into it, I stole it, whik 
 
84 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 my mother was at breakfast, and watch- 
 ed her tea-cup, that I might restore it 
 when she had done. I then took up my 
 needle, and seemed busily employed; 
 but the instant the book was out of her 
 hands, down went the work. When 
 I drew towards the end of the last 
 volume, I made right give way to pos- 
 session, and carried it to our dressing- 
 room, that I might indulge in all the 
 luxury of woe. I had long foreseen 
 that it could end only in death, or dis- 
 traction. It is another Eloise, or an- 
 other Werter. Great talents are neces- 
 sary to write it; but it is great talents 
 misapplied. Grave ladies would con- 
 denan the heroine, without mercy ; and 
 Mr. Sharp, who, by the bye, has no 
 such thing as a heart, makes grimaces 
 and says, " Nastiest, rankest stuff that 
 iver I read in all my life !" It is certainly 
 an impix)per picture of violent, uncon- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 85 
 
 troulecl passions ; but, to me, it has an- 
 other fault — It is such a genuine repre- 
 sentation of sensibility and distress, that, 
 real or fictitious, it carries me with it, and 
 wounds my heart. Could I have fore- 
 seen my sympathetic sufferings, I would 
 have made no acquaintance with Amelia 
 Mansfield. 
 
 I determined to read no more novels 
 at present; and kept this resolution like 
 the last. Mr. Sharp put one into my 
 hands, which he assured me was what 
 he called the very best and entertaining^ 
 est nuvel that iver he read in all his life ! 
 Who, but must yield to such eloquence? 
 I read it; and found his approbation 
 would have been just, if it had been li- 
 mited. It is a good novel; but I should 
 wrong it, to say the best I ever read in 
 my life. The idea is new ; and the hero 
 such a prodigy, that he lives through 
 three volumes, without being in love. 
 The title is ** Independence." 
 
86 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 In the walk we took, after T had con- 
 cluded my last, we met Mr. Henry 
 Winterdale. He joined us, and walked 
 with us an hour — one of the pleasantest 
 hours I ever spent. He is well informed 
 on every subject, as far as my faculties 
 of judging can decide, and is a man of 
 great taste and feeling— rather serious— 
 but who could be otherwise, with such 
 a father? Whether he had his father in 
 his head, I know not ; I am sure I had 
 him in mine; and fancied that, if we 
 should chance to meet him, he would 
 look upon us as the seducers of his son. 
 
 After this walk we saw Mr. Henry 
 Winterdale no more, of several days; 
 though, before it, we never missed him. 
 We began to think we were like the 
 maids that were held out for our imita- 
 tion, in the nursery — to be seen, and 
 not be heard; and that he did not find 
 our conversation equal to our appear- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 87 
 
 ance : but one day we were caught in a 
 heavy shower— where he sprang from, 
 I know not — he certainly was near; for, 
 in a moment, he overtook us, and beg- 
 ged we would accept of his umbrella. 
 We would have declined it, on account 
 of leaving its owner exposed to the rain ; 
 but he would not be denied. He at- 
 tended us home; and, wet as he was, 
 seemed to think the way too short; but 
 he took leave of us at the door, saying 
 he would now go and change his cloaths. 
 Since then we have not seen him. He 
 seems determined to render us every 
 service in his power, and not to be ac- 
 quainted with us. 
 
 Not so Captain Montgomery. He 
 has been here three times this week; 
 and says that nothing but the fear of 
 being troublesome could have prevented 
 him from coming every day. We yet 
 know nothing of his family. Many art« 
 
88 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ful girls would have led to the subj<3ct, 
 and drawn from him all they desired to 
 know; but it is not in my nature; nor 
 dare I suffer my mother to do it, lest 
 he should imagine she has some view re- 
 garding myself. That he distinguishes 
 me from Eleanor is an undoubted fact; 
 and that I do not feel so light-hearted as 
 when I had nothing to do but gather 
 snow-drops, is another. 
 
 Light or heavy, and at all times, 
 your's is the heart of 
 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 89 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 TO MISS CASTI.EMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, ApL 4, 1812. 
 
 Which, my dear Harriet, in the 
 catalogue of human events, do you 
 think capable of bringing Mr. Winter- 
 dale to our house ? not like Captain 
 Montgomery, for a morning call ; but 
 a positive inmate; eating, drinking, 
 and sleeping under our roof? You 
 are mute with astonishment at length 
 you answer, " A broken leg, perhaps." 
 Your conjecture is exactly right. Mr. 
 Winterdale had the mi^-fortune to 
 have his horse fall down w ith him, flat 
 on one side; by which accident the 
 leg that lay under the horse was bro- 
 
90 THK MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ken : and he had the good fortune to 
 have it happen just before our win- 
 dows 3 by which situation he found 
 help at hand. We saw the fail with 
 terror. His own man, Mendall, was 
 with him, and we sent out Robert to 
 assist. They carried Mr. Winterdale 
 into the house, in a state of insensibili- 
 ty, and laid him on a bed. 
 
 Now all was bustle. My mother 
 and Mendall stationed themselves in 
 the chamber, making every effort to re- 
 cover the hurt man -, Horton ran up 
 and down stairs, to furnish them with 
 the means ; Robert was dispatched to 
 the town, for all the surgeons he could 
 find ; Thomas was sent for Mr. Henry 
 Winterdale ; and Eleanor and I were 
 ordering, and the women servants pro- 
 viding, whatever we judged might be 
 of use. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale soon recovered his 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 91 
 
 senses ; being only stunned by the fall ; 
 but, as his first effort was to escape 
 from the assistants, he discovered that 
 his leg was broken. He then insisted 
 upon being carried home. Here my 
 mother interposed, with an air of au- 
 thority, and said, indeed she could not 
 suffer him to be moved , till she had heard 
 the opinion of the surgeons ; as she 
 considered herself responsible for his 
 safety at present ; and Mendall joining 
 her, he submitted. 
 
 When the surgeons arrived, they 
 proposed setting the fractured limb im- 
 mediately; as, if it were delayed, an 
 inflammation must ensue, that would 
 prevent it for some time. My mother 
 was decidedly of the same opinion, 
 and earnestly requested Mr. Winter- 
 dale to believe himself at home ; assur- 
 ing him that it would be a pleasure to 
 her to supply all his wants. She then 
 
92 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 left him in the hands of the surgeons ; 
 assisted by his son, who had arrived 
 some time before, and by Mendall. 
 
 The operation performed, Mr. Win- 
 terdaie was put to bed ; where he has 
 lain three days in a state of great sitflfer- 
 ing. He is now in a fair way. Men- 
 dall sleeps in the same room, and is 
 generally with him in the day; Mr. 
 Henry spends much time with his 
 father; and my mother, without send- 
 ing to know whether she can be admit- 
 ted, assumes the privilege of anm^se ; and 
 tapping at the door, enters, without ce- 
 remony; orders all things necessary for 
 the invalid ; takes her post at his bed's 
 head ; and contributes, herself, to his 
 comfort. This is the only way : for I 
 do not believe there is written, in the 
 book of fate, any method to become 
 acquainted with Mr. Winterdale, with 
 his own consent. 
 
I'fl^ MISER MAilRlEjD. 93 
 
 3It. Heiiiy stepped into tKe bi^ak- 
 fast-room, this morning, where Eleanor 
 and I were sitting at work, and hear- 
 ing that his father was better, and that 
 my ttiother was with him, he ventured 
 to sit down. 
 
 '* We are two to one," said I ; " are 
 not you afraid we shall keep you pri- 
 soner?" 
 
 " One would be sufficient to do that," 
 replied he. 
 
 Eleanor coloured, and woi^ked very 
 hard. 
 
 " I think ak Mr. Winterdale is likely 
 to get well," continued I, " that we 
 are much obliged to his horse for break- 
 ing his leg ; for I believe his two legs, 
 if they had been whole, would never 
 have brought him to our house ;' and 
 then you would not have come of course, 
 you know." 
 
 " I know I should have been the suf- 
 
94 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ferer, if I had not," said he ; ** and so 
 much a sufferer, that, I believe, I should 
 have broken through the savage resolu- 
 tion I had formed to deny myself the 
 pleasure of your and Miss Mowbray's 
 acquaintance/' 
 
 *^ Savage, indeed," cried I ! <^ I 
 should not have supposed you capable 
 of it, by your looks. Should you, Elea- 
 nor?" 
 
 " I should not suppose Mr. Henry 
 Winterdale capable of doing w^hat he 
 thought wrong," said Eleanor. 
 
 " It follows, then," said I, " that Mr. 
 Henry Winterdale thought it wrong to 
 seek our society ; or even to accept our 
 invitations — may I ask why ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Mereval," said he, " if 
 you knew how I was situated, '' you 
 would not ask why ! But you cannot 
 have been so long at the Lodge without 
 having heard of some of the singular!- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 95 
 
 ties of my father. You must know thai 
 he has renounced all society, and lives 
 in a style very unsuitable to his rank ; 
 and though he has not verbally required 
 such a sacrifice ; yet, unless I could act 
 consistently with my station in hfe, I 
 think it better to conform to his plans." 
 
 " If our parents are not all we could 
 wish." said Eleanor, " it cannot absolve 
 us from the duty we owe them. I do I 
 
 not know a better rule for the regula- * 
 
 tion of our conduct, than to do right 
 ourselves, and leave to others the pains 
 and penalties of doing wrong." 
 
 "I would make it my rule," said 
 Henry. " Happily for us, the right is 
 easily discovered. In general, intuition, 
 conscience, or by what other name you i 
 
 please to call it, will point it out, before 
 reason is asked. The only difficulty , 
 lies in pursuing what is right, when 
 
96 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 passion or interest throw stumbling 
 blocks in our way." 
 
 " There are many things,'' said Elea-* 
 nor, " that are indiiFerent in themselves ; 
 and, of these, each of us should be our 
 own judge. I would carry this a step 
 further, and allow every one to choose, 
 even in opposition to that strongest of 
 all obligations — custom ; though, I 
 own, I had rather not do so myself." 
 
 " You are making an apology for my 
 father," rejoined Mr. Henry, " that I 
 have often made before. I have said to 
 myself, my father has inherited a for- 
 tune from his ancestors, which always 
 entailed upon them a certain style of 
 living. They have always maintained 
 something like the same establishment, 
 and kept something like the same com- 
 pany. It it well; and I would do so 
 too. But who shall say there is a ne- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. ^f 
 
 cessity to do so? Why may I not enjoy 
 what is my own, in my own way ? There 
 can be but one solid objection against 
 it — the man who lives bi/ himself, and 
 for himself, does not do the good he 
 ought, to his fellow creatures; but for 
 that he stands responsible to a higher 
 power; not to me. Besides, of the 
 numbers who enjoy their fortunes in a 
 splendid manner, how many are there 
 who go beyond them? who are not even 
 just? who owe what they cannot, or 
 will not pay, and thereby ruin whole 
 families ?" 
 
 Here I blushed. 
 
 " Justice," said Eleanor, *•' is the 
 foundation of all the virtues. Nothing 
 can be virtuous that is unjust. I have 
 been sorry to hear Charles Surface say 
 that he could not make justice keep 
 pace with generosity ; and I have been 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 grieved to hear such a sentimeBt ap- 
 plauded." 
 
 " Yet it is the general opinion of 
 mankind," said Mr. Henry. " The 
 man who pays all his debts, and neither 
 spends money unnecessarily, or gives it 
 away, is covetous, and a miser ; shun- 
 ned by, if he do not shun, society ; while 
 the man who enjoys and dispenses libe- 
 rally, what is not his own, is an honest 
 fellow." 
 
 " I have always thought the term, 
 covetous, misapplied," said I. " It 
 should properly belong to the sin for- 
 bidden by the tenth Commandment, 
 and be attached to those who covet 
 their neighbour's goods; instead of 
 which, it is commonly given to such as 
 only wish to keep their own." 
 
 " The one, if his propensities broke 
 out into acts, would be hanged for a 
 
rH£S MISCit ICAR&IBD. ^ 
 
 thief," said Mr. Henry Wiaterdale; 
 " the otb^ only does not do the good 
 he ung:ht, and therefore ought to do.'* 
 
 " While you acknowledge that Mr* 
 Winterdale's mode of life would not be 
 your's,'* said Eleanor, " how cheering 
 to your bosom must be your filial obe- 
 dience ! I never, added she, with a sigh, 
 knew the pleasure of filial obedience ! 
 I had the misfortune to lose both my 
 parents, when I was between four and 
 five years old." 
 
 " I cannot remember my mother," 
 said Mr. Henry; "but I have been 
 told she was one of the most excellent 
 of women. How should I have loved 
 and reverenced such a parent, if she 
 had been spared to me! But, perhaps, 
 added he, sighing in his turn, it is bet- 
 ter as it is. With regard to my obedi- 
 ence to my father, it may not have all 
 F 2 
 
100 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 the merit you so kindly allow it. I 
 have, hitherto, had little temptation to 
 act contrary to his wishes ; and, if it 
 were otherwise, I am denied the means 
 without having recourse to expedients I 
 should be ashamed of." 
 
 Ah ! thought I, while my face glowed, 
 better not have six-pence in one's pock- 
 et than procure money as I have done ! 
 But, rallying my spirits, " we have now 
 brought you to a fair confession," said 
 I, " of the reason why you declined 
 our acquaintance. You had little reason 
 to act contrary to Mr. Winterdale's 
 wishes." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied he, with quick- 
 ness, " It was there I first felt the mi- 
 sery of passive obedience." 
 
 My mother then entering the room, 
 and telling Mr. Henry his father had 
 enquired for him, put an end to the con- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 101 
 
 versation; as I will do to my Iett6r» 
 when I have assured you that 
 
 I am, faithfully your's, 
 
 Charlotte Mereval, 
 
)0!2 9H£ MISER MARRISI?. 
 
 LETTER XII, 
 
 TO MISS CASTIiEMAIN. 
 
 Rave^hill Lodge, April 11, 1812- 
 
 BEHOliB, Harriet, the reward of my 
 patience ! Here have I walked quietly, 
 with Eleanor, scraping acquaintance 
 with all the flowers of the field ! Here 
 have I been contented with their com- 
 pany for hours, after I returned home ! 
 And now. Captain Montgomery to ride 
 with us; Edmund Sharp, Esquire, to 
 walk with us ; Mr. Henry Winterdale 
 to sit with us ; and no female in the 
 world — ^that is, in our part of the world, 
 to dispute the prize with us ! 
 
 My mother is blest with the private 
 conversation of Mr. Winterdale. As 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Thacker, they have 
 
THE MITSER MARRIED, 103 
 
 given official notice, by Mr. Sharp, that 
 they cannot enter the house, while Mr. 
 Winterdale is in it : and happy is it for 
 the poor gentleman that such is their 
 determination ; for, if he knew he was 
 breathing the same air with the parson,^ 
 his agitation would be sufficient to snap 
 his leg a second time. 
 
 I have at length made the interesting 
 discovery that Mr. Montgomery is the 
 cBly son of the present Sir James 
 Montgomery, who has taken my father's 
 title. This morning, as we were airing, 
 my horse was in so frolicksome a mood, 
 that, tired with his capering, and with 
 pulling him in, I suffered him to take 
 his own way ; and he set off at a 
 quicker rate than Eleanor chose to fol- 
 low. No cavalier could have been so 
 uncourteous as not to have extended his 
 arms, if I should chance to fall j so the 
 gentleman accompanied me, and we 
 
104 THE MISEtl MARRIED. 
 
 left my cousin, attended by her man, 
 behind. That service, however, did not 
 fall to the lot of Mr. Montgomery. My 
 horse and I adjusted matters amicably, 
 and slackened our pace to our mutual 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Mr. Montgomery took the opportu- 
 nity, while we were riding slowly, that 
 Eleanor might overtake us, to say, that 
 he owed it to the politeness and friend- 
 ship he had found in our family, to let 
 us know on whom we had bestowed 
 them. His father, he said, had gone to 
 India more than thirty years ago, with- 
 out either fortune or expectation ; that 
 he had married one of those young la- 
 dies who are sent over by their parents, 
 in search of an establishment, which 
 their circumstances do not permit them 
 to provide for them at home ; that they 
 had remained in India till very lately, 
 when Mr. Montgomery determined to 
 
^HE MISER MARRIED. 105 
 
 brin^ over his family and effects, and 
 end his days in his native country. He 
 added that his father had not made the 
 fortune that had fallen to the lot of 
 many ; both because his post had been 
 less lucrative, and because he did not 
 choose to employ such means as they 
 had done. With it, however, such as 
 it was, and the pleasing reflections that 
 the manner in which it had been ac- 
 quired afforded him, he would have 
 been content; but he had unfortunately 
 entrusted a part of his property in a 
 ship, which sailed before he left the 
 country, and which had been lost. 
 " What remained," continued Mr. 
 Montgomery, ** my father did not think 
 sufficient for my establishment in life, 
 without the addition of some profes- 
 sion ; and he bought me a pair of co- 
 lours. 
 
 F 5 
 
106 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ** Then you are not a captain,'* said 
 I? 
 
 ** I am not," replied he ; " nor would 
 I have suffered you to call me by that 
 appellation so long ; but that the cour- 
 tesy of country towns makes all red 
 coats captains, as well as all apotheca- 
 ries doctors. I assure you the decep- 
 tion is not of my own creating. I never 
 called myself a captain ; and now, that 
 I am more desirous of engaging your 
 esteem than when I knew you less, I 
 will not be known to you for other than 
 I am." 
 
 " I have one more circumstance to 
 mention," continued Mr. Montgomery. 
 " My father is descended from a branch 
 of the family of the late Sir George 
 Montgomery. When he left England, 
 Sir George and his brother were both 
 young j and there were several other 
 
^HE MISER MAltRIED. 107 
 
 persons between him and the title and 
 €state ; so that the succession to either 
 was quite out of the question. It ap- 
 peared, on his return, however, that Sir 
 George was dead, and had left an only 
 daughter ; and that, in consequence of 
 this and other deaths which had hap- 
 pened, my father had an undoubted 
 right to the title ; and he has accord- 
 ingly assumed it. He believes he has 
 an equal right to the estate, and is en- 
 deavouring to prove it, I own I am 
 sorry for this, whatever be the event. 
 If he lose his cause, it must consider- 
 ably lessen a fortune already too small ; 
 if he gain it, he must dispossess a young 
 woman — 1 am told, a beautiful and 
 amiable young woman, who certainly 
 has a natural right to her father's inhe- 
 ritance ; let law say what it may," 
 
 In an extasy of gratitude, I repeated 
 four lines of a song in the Duenna^ 
 
108 THE MISER MARRIE]>. 
 
 Thou canst not boast of fortune's store. 
 My love, while me they wealthy call ; 
 
 But I am glad to find thee poor; 
 
 For, with my heart, I'll give thee all. 
 
 Do not be too much alarmed, my 
 dear Harriet. I repeated these lines to 
 myself — not to Mr. Montgomery. In 
 the first place, it is not certain that I 
 shall have any thing to give ; and, in the 
 second, if it were, I v^ould not dispose 
 of it so hastily. I only thanked Mr. 
 Montgomery for his confidence, and ap- 
 plauded his sentiments — and, for that, 
 I had more reasons than one, you know. 
 But he is, really, a very pretty fellow ; 
 and a very honest fellow. In the words 
 of Mistress Mouse, " Shall I have him, 
 if I can ?" It would be a good deed ; 
 if it were only to cheat the lawyers. 
 I will think of it. " I do not doubt 
 it," say you. 
 
 Eleanor then rode up, and the con- 
 versation took another turn. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 109 
 
 Our patient is doing- well, and sits up 
 in his bed. We have not yet had the 
 honour of being introduced to him ; but 
 as his son is become one of the family, 
 we the less regret that misfortune. For 
 my part, if the father do but recover, 
 I care not how slowly. 
 
 Ever your's, 
 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
110 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, April 18, 1812. 
 
 My promise to write every week, my 
 dear Harriet, must either give me the 
 liberty of sometimes writing very short 
 letters ; or you the mortification of read- 
 ing very uninteresting ones. You are 
 not to expect a gentleman should break 
 his leg, and be carried into our house, 
 once a week, to supply me with a sub- 
 ject ; or that I should as often discover 
 a new cousin. The only circumstance 
 I have now to inform you of is, that I 
 have seen Mr. Winterdale. We were 
 introduced to him, as Horton told Ro- 
 binson, at my mother's request ; not his 
 own. My mother presented us to him 
 
THE MISER MAKRIED. Ill 
 
 as her daughter and her niece : and 
 added, " I would not have suffered 
 these young women to intrude upon 
 you, if they had been like the general- 
 ity of giddy girls ; hut you will find 
 them so quiet and discreet that I hope 
 you will sometimes allow them to pay 
 their respects to you." 
 
 The man looked at us, for a moment, 
 as if he would have penetrated our very 
 souls ; then bowed, and said nothing. 
 
 We had had an excellent hint. li 
 was our business to be quiet and dis- 
 creet j so we said nothing. 
 
 My mother, who, I dare say, had fre- 
 quently evinced her quietness and dis- 
 cretion before, did not contradict it 
 now ; so we all said nothing. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale looked very imeasVo 
 He broke the silence by observing that 
 it was poor entertainment for young la- 
 dies, to sit by a lame man in bed ; par- 
 
112 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ticularly such a man as he, who had 
 not been used to company. 
 
 Eleanor said we did not, by any 
 means, seek our own entertainment, in 
 waiting upon him ; she had, all her life 
 been accustomed to provide a great part 
 of it for herself, as well as he ; but she 
 was glad of an opportunity of express- 
 ing the pleasure she felt at his being, 
 so far, recovered from his accident. 
 
 He looked at her, with a scrutinizing 
 eye ; but, seeing nothing like deceit in 
 her sweet face, he thanked her with 
 some cordiality. 
 
 " We none of us derive our amuse- 
 ments from company," said my mo- 
 ther. *f It was to avoid that we came 
 into the country." 
 
 " The little I have seen of company," 
 said Eleanor, " I always thought was 
 purchased at more than it was worth. 
 I am not acquainted with society in 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 113 
 
 London ; but, in the country I have 
 often spent an hour in dressing, in order 
 to spend two or three hours with peo- 
 ple whom I have been heartily glad to 
 be released from." 
 
 " That has been just my case," said 
 Mr. Winterdale ; " though I wonder to 
 hear such a sentiment from a young 
 lady. When I have formerly been in- 
 duced to visit a neighbouring family, 
 I have found so little to repay the trou- 
 ble, that I resolved to give it up. If 
 a man wants a good dinner, he may get 
 it at home : if he wants good wine, he 
 may get that too ; and without being 
 obliged to take more than he likes : 
 and as to conversation, at dinner it is 
 all about eating ; after dinner it is all 
 noise; and after tea it is all cards.'' 
 
 " But you would sometimes find con- 
 versation of a different kind; would 
 not you, Sir,'* demanded I ? 
 
114 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 *' Yes," answered Mr. Winterdale. 
 ** I might listen to the exploits of a man's 
 dogs or horses, and pretend to admire 
 "what I did not care for. I might dis- 
 pute upon politics till both sides were 
 ready to quarrel. I might hear the 
 domestic affairs of every family in the 
 neighbourhood : so I thought it best 
 to stay at home, and take care of my 
 own." 
 
 ** That is a subject which cannot be 
 otherwise than acceptable," said my 
 mother. 
 
 " And it will pay a man for his at* 
 tention," rejoined Mr. Winterdale. 
 
 " I am of your opinion, Sir," said 
 I, " that one of the heaviest taxes so- 
 ciety has to pay is that of listening to 
 what we had rather not hear, and ad- 
 miring what one cannot like." 
 
 '* Women are subjected to another 
 tax," said Eleanor, " and, perhaps men 
 
THE MISER MAKRIEU. 115 
 
 are not wholly exempted from it ; that 
 of contributing our share of what is 
 not worth hearing. I do not know so 
 fatiguing an exertion, as talking when 
 one has nothing to say." 
 
 " You can have nothing to say, in 
 common companies, in the country," 
 said Mr. Winterdale, ** unless you will 
 reply to other people's affairs, by talk- 
 ing of your own." 
 
 ** The most desirable society," said 
 my mother, " is that of a friend, to 
 whom our own concerns may be inte- 
 resting ; and for whose welfare we feel 
 an interest, in return." 
 
 " I do not know where you will find 
 such a friend," said Mr. Winterdale. 
 
 *^ I flatter myself," said I, " that 
 Miss Mowbray and I have each found 
 such a friend in the other." 
 
 " Miss Mowbray and you are very 
 young women," replied Mr. Winter- 
 
116 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 dale. " Let one of you be more ad- 
 mired than the other ; let one of you 
 be preferred by the man you are both 
 desn-ous to please ; let one of you be 
 well, and the other ill-married ; let one 
 of you become poor, while the other 
 remains rich; then see what will be- 
 come of your friendship !" 
 
 I had like to have forfeited my cha- 
 racter for quietness and discretion ; for 
 I could not help exclaiming", " What a 
 frightful catalogue of evils !" 
 
 ** Some of them prudence may pre- 
 vent; and may heaven avert the rest,'* 
 said Eleanor ! 
 
 *< In London," said Mr. Winterdale, 
 " though I know very little of it, I sup- 
 pose the number of public pla ces, and the 
 number of people who frequent them, 
 
 furnish topics of conversation ; and the 
 multitudes that now meet at the houses 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 117 
 
 of the great have rendered them public 
 places : but, in the country, when you 
 first meet, nobody has any thing to say ; 
 and, when you have been together some 
 time, every body is for speaking at 
 once. The only way in which, I think, 
 society could be tolerable, would be, 
 for a man to sit silent, half a day toge- 
 ther, if he felt no inclination to speak | 
 and to rise from his chair, and go to the 
 window, or leave the room whenever 
 another was saying what he had no 
 mind to hear." 
 
 " Those would be happy days, in- 
 deed. Sir," said Eleanor ; " but, as we 
 cannot hope for them, I think I should 
 have no objection to a general acquaint- 
 ance, at my first entrance into the 
 world, to give me an opportunity of 
 selecting those I might like best. I 
 should be very fortunate if I could find 
 
118 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 six or eight families, with whom I could 
 associate upon easy terms ; who would 
 be my guests for days, weeks, or 
 months, as it might happen ^ and be 
 glad to see me sometimes theirs. I 
 would have no dinner parties. They 
 are a sacrifice of time and money to 
 vanity. I should not expect my chosen 
 acquaintance to be my friends, in the 
 strict sense of the word ; but we might 
 be agreeable to each othei', without an 
 effort : and I would leave them to en- 
 tertain themselves in their ovm way." 
 
 ** I like your plan, Eleanor," said I : 
 a sort of Harrowgate society ; where 
 some might read or work, while others 
 •walked or rode out. It approachei 
 nearer Mr. Winterdale's idea than any 
 thing I know." 
 
 " The difficulty would be to reduce 
 it to practice," said Mr. Winterdale ; 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. Hy 
 
 ** not to find the people ; but to find them 
 agreeable : to say nothing* of the ex- 
 pense of turning one's house into an 
 inn. 
 
 " I am supposing, Sir/* said Elea- 
 nor, " that the expense were consider- 
 ably within my income, or I should not 
 attempt it : and, perhaps, it might not 
 be much greater than to cover your 
 table with a profusion of dainties, and 
 an abundance of wine, at stated inter- 
 vals, for all the people within ten miles 
 of you." 
 
 ** If there was a necessity to spend 
 the money in one or the other," re- 
 joined Mr. Winterdale, " your's is the 
 best way." 
 
 " You are arguing with Mr. Winter- 
 dale on his dislike to company, while 
 we are fatiguing him with our own/' 
 said my mother. 
 
120 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 We then left Mr. Winterdale to his 
 own reflections; as I will leave you, 
 when I have assured you that I am, 
 
 Truly your's, 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 121 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN, 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, April 25, 1 812. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 I cannot help fancying that my 
 mother has a mind to set her widow's 
 coif at Mr. Winterdale, and I have 
 commnnicated my suspicions to Elea- 
 nor, who entertains similar ones her- 
 self. While we were not of the 
 party, we supposed that the want of 
 employment, and the desire of mould- 
 ing the iron heart of Mr. Winterdale 
 into a neighbourly pliability, had 
 transformed the gay lady Montgomery 
 into a nurse. When we were first ad- 
 mitted, we perceived her wish that v. e 
 should gain a share of his good opi- 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
12^ THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 nion, and her anxious fear lest we 
 should say any thing that might 
 prove us undeserving of it, together 
 with a very guarded conduct of her 
 own. 
 
 We now visit Mr. Winterdale every 
 day, and I. perceive my mother 
 watches the symptoms of satisfaction 
 or uneasiness that prevail in his coun- 
 tenance, and regulates our stay by 
 these tokens. She is, herself, almost 
 constantly in his room, with no other 
 attendant than Horton. Mendall is 
 dismissed, to mind affairs at home. 
 Mr. Henry is here the whole of the 
 morning ; but, what with giving us a 
 call before he goes up stairs, and bid- 
 ding us farew^ell when he comes down, 
 he is more with us than with his 
 father. 
 
 My mother seems to be making a 
 systematic attack upon Mr. Winter- 
 
THE BIISER MARRTED. 12S 
 
 dale. To speak in a militai'y phrase, 
 
 she has drawn a line of circumvalla- 
 
 tion about him, which she is advancing 
 
 by imperceptible degrees, in hopes 
 
 the besieged may be compelled to 
 
 surrender. How should I laugh to 
 
 see the poor, unsuspecting' gentleman 
 
 taken captive! the wise, the prudent, 
 
 the wary, Mr. Winterdale caught in 
 
 a trap ! the man who has lived only 
 
 for himself, sighing for a woman ! O, 
 
 triumphant woman, what can thy 
 
 beauty and thy arts not effect, if they 
 
 can compass this ! 
 
 But what can my mother mean to 
 
 do with Mr. Winterdale, when she has 
 
 causfht him ? Does she intend to di- 
 
 vert herself with seeing him struggle 
 
 in his chains, and then let him go ? or 
 
 can she seriously think of marrj'^ing 
 
 him ? Though I laugh at the idea of 
 
 his circumspection being outwitted; 
 a 2 
 
124 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 yet, I assure you, I should approve of 
 neither. To marry any man, in my 
 mother's circumstances, without mak- 
 ing him acquainted with them, would 
 be worse than artful ; it would be base ; 
 and Mr. Winterdale would be the last 
 man upon earth to marry her, if they 
 were known. To trifle with any 
 man's feelings, without an intention 
 of rewarding them, is almost equally 
 unjustifiable. It is true, I believe, 
 that the feelings of Mr. Winterdale 
 are of a calcareous substance ; and 
 his heart-strings, if he has any, of 
 tough, endurable leather; but even 
 these should not be wantonly played 
 upon for her amusement. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale is got to the sopha. 
 We were all sitting in his room last 
 night, when my mother proposed a 
 rubber at whist. 
 
 "It is a long time since I played at 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 125 
 
 whist," said Mr. Winterdale. " I like 
 the game well enough, but I do not 
 like to risque my money at it. I al- 
 ways thought it absurd to try to better 
 my fortune, by means that were as 
 likely to diminish it ; when there were 
 ways to increase it with certainty," 
 
 " O," said my mother, " I cannot 
 bear to play for money. It was merely 
 pour passer le terns that I mentioned 
 it. We will either play for sixpences, 
 or, as the country people say here, for 
 love, which you please." 
 
 " For sixpence the rubber then," said 
 Mr. Winterdale, " without playing the 
 points. One should have some stake, 
 to engage one's attention." 
 
 " Then love is not sufficient to en- 
 gage your attention, Sir, without a 
 little money," said I smiling ? 
 
 " I hope you will find it so bye and 
 
126 THE MISER MARHIED. 
 
 bye," replied he. " You see love and 
 nothing- are synonimous terms." 
 
 *' If you have no objection," said 
 my mother, " you and I will endea- 
 vour to beat these young" folks, v^ithout 
 taking om* chance for partners." 
 
 Mr. Winterdale could have no ob- 
 jection ; but, as fortune would have it, 
 the young folks beat them. His anx- 
 iety was extreme, and his disappoint- 
 ment in proportion. Had be j-laked a 
 year's revenue on the rubber, instead 
 of sixpence, he could scarcely have 
 felt it more. My mother seemed to 
 repent her experiment, and joined him 
 in lamenting theii* hard fate. The 
 next rubber was their' s, and wore off 
 the effects of the former. But — 
 would you credit it ? my mother beg- 
 ged us, this morning, not to irritate oui: 
 guest, by winning his money ; as the 
 
THE MISER MAHRIED. 127 
 
 party was made solely to amuse him, 
 in his confinement ; but rather suffer 
 him to win our's. I wiUingly consent 
 to it, for I should fear one of his six- 
 pences would contaminate my purse. 
 But, take care, Mr. Winterdale ; or 
 you will, one day, pay dear for this 
 child-like indulgence. 
 
 When Mr. Henry called this morn- 
 ing, " The doctors give us no hopes," 
 said I, with a sorrowful countenance ; 
 "your father will be well soon, and all 
 these days of kindness will be forgot- 
 ten." 
 
 " Never, by me, while I have breath," 
 replied he. 
 
 " Why, is it possible," demanded I, 
 that you can visit us, when Mr. Win- 
 terdale is returned home ?" 
 
 " I hope the treatment my father has 
 met with here," answered he, " will 
 produce a change both in his feelings. 
 
128 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 and his way of life. His heart must 
 be most impenetrable ; it could not 
 even be human ; if he were insensible 
 of the kindness of Mrs. Mereval ; or 
 ungrateful for it. He speaks of her 
 in very high terms; and I have no 
 doubt that it will be his greatest plea- 
 sure to cultivate a friendship so ho- 
 nourable and so advantageous to him- 
 self." 
 
 " Do you think," said Eleanor, 
 '* after such a long seclusion from the 
 world, that Mr. Winterdale can ever 
 voluntarily seek society ?" 
 
 " A month ago, I think he could 
 not." answered Henry ; '' but having 
 once found the charm of it, I think it 
 will be as impossible for him to relin- 
 rjuishit. My father has an activity 
 both of body and mind, that prevented 
 him from languishing in solitude. He 
 felt no want of company ; and most 
 
THE MISER MARRIED, 129 
 
 assuredly, would neither have sought 
 it, or admitted it ; but the pleasures of 
 agreeable society and reciprocal kind- 
 ness, being forced upon him, they 
 would make a stronger impression 
 on his heart, from their being new; 
 and, having once tasted them, I can- 
 not believe he can give them up. The 
 only fear that rests upon my mind is, 
 lest Mrs. Mereval should withdraw her 
 kindness, when her patient no longer 
 stands in need of it." 
 
 " I have no fear of that," replied I. 
 
 '' Then," said Eleanor to Mr. Henry, 
 ** if one can promise for his father, and 
 the other for her mother, we may still 
 hope for the pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 ^' Nothing but the positive commands 
 of one, or all of you ladies, could pre- 
 vent that," he said, ^' and I should then 
 find submission a harder task tha;i ever 
 I did in my life." 
 
 G 5 
 
130 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 " You forget that your father's com- 
 mands might prevent it," said I. 
 
 ** They could have no such power," 
 ansvi^ered he. " I am three and twen- 
 ty ; and, in such a case, I should cer- 
 tainly judge for myself." 
 
 " Then you either practice filial 
 obedience, when your own inclinations 
 do not oppose it," said I, "or you 
 think tlu-ee and twenty the age to dis- 
 card it wholly." 
 
 ** Pardon me, Miss Mereval," said 
 he, " you are too severe. I make a 
 distinction between what I conceive to 
 be my father's rights and my own. 
 In his own house, and of his own con- 
 duct, who should be master but my 
 father ? Imagine me saying, ' Sir, 
 you ought to keep such an establish- 
 ment, such an equipage, and such 
 company ; and you ought to like these 
 things, because I should like them. 
 
THE MISER MARRIEB. 131 
 
 Further, you ought to allow me a cer- 
 tain portion of your own money, to 
 dispose of in whatever manner I 
 please, whether you like it or no.' What 
 a figure should I make, thus invading 
 the rights of another? But suppose 
 my father attacking mine ; suppose 
 him saying, * Henry, I insist upon it 
 that you go no more to Mrs. Mei^e- 
 vaFs ;' I should first respectfully inquire 
 his reasons for the prohibition. In 
 what have they offended you, Sir ? 
 Of what have they been guilty ? 
 * Nothing of this,' he would reply, (for 
 nothing could be urged) *■ but you 
 know I do not like company; and, 
 now, 1 am recovered, and got home, I 
 shall live as I did before the accident.' 
 Do you believe I would regard such an 
 order, supported by such reasons? 
 No Kiore than the wind that whistled 
 over my head. To resume his former 
 
132 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 way of life, or not, would be my fa- 
 ther's to determine : to deprive myself 
 of the friendship of Mrs. Mereval, and 
 you and Miss Mowbray, or not, would 
 be mine ; and no earthly power could 
 compel me to it, but your own. In 
 such a cause, I would risque every 
 hope of the favour and inheritance of 
 my father.'* 
 
 There was a dignity in Mr. Henry's 
 sentiments and manner that struck us 
 with awe ; the dignity of independence. 
 Eleanor hung down her head, afraid to 
 look at him ; while a charming blush 
 stole over her cheeks. I shrunk into 
 myself ; and found, fatally found, that 
 something could be urged against us. 
 When he left us, I went up stairs, and 
 throwing myself upon my knees, in 
 the bitterness of my heart, I cried, 
 " Father, I have sinned against hea- 
 ven, and in thy sight, and am not 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 133 
 
 worthy to be called thy child. Assist 
 me in the resolution I make before 
 thee, never again, wilfully, to do what 
 I know to be wrong.'* 
 
 My present interest, would prompt 
 me to this vow, were the future in- 
 tirely out of the question ; for, by some 
 fatality or other, every person I con- 
 verse with plants a thorn in my bosom. 
 
 Continue your friendship and re- 
 
 gard for 
 
 Charlotte Merevax. 
 
134 THE MTSER MARIIIED, 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge^ May 2, 1812. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 Our patient begins to use his leg*; 
 but shews no inclination to move it out 
 of the house. My mother's designs are 
 more apparent, as she becomes more 
 confident of success. Her attentions 
 are openly directed to Mr. W interdale, 
 in a manner that cannot be mistaken ; 
 and his tenderness, in return, is of the 
 most awkward kind you can imagine — 
 that of a stubborn, unbending, uncon- 
 trouled mind, yielding to affection, in 
 spite of itself. His expressions of it 
 are such as, in another, might be termed 
 rudeness, and abruptness; bnt, from 
 
THE MTSEB MARRIED. 135^ 
 
 him, they mean a great deal ; perhaps, 
 nothing less than the offer of his hand. 
 
 Now, what is my part ? here, two 
 duties clash. If I consider Mr. Win- 
 terdale, shall I stand by, and see him. 
 imposed upon ? If I look at my mother, 
 have I a right to betray her? I am sup- 
 posing she has formed the plan of mar- 
 rying him, without acknowledging she 
 has involved herself in debt, which, I 
 fear is more likely than that she should 
 candidly confess it ; for such a circum- 
 stance ; so totally repugnant to every 
 one of his principles and propensities,^ 
 must put an end to her hopes. Mr. 
 Winterdale is just; though parsimoni- 
 ous : his justice would revolt at her con- 
 duct : and he, who cannot spend his 
 own money, would abhor the woman 
 who could spend what was not her's, 
 and surely would not render himself 
 liable to pay it. 
 
136 THE MISER MARPvIED. 
 
 After some reflection, I have deter- 
 mined, first to remonstrate with my mo- 
 ther, and then to be silent. She shall 
 not take so unworthy a step, without 
 my entering my protest against it, in 
 the strongest terms a child can use to a 
 parent. If this avail not, I will be aid- 
 ing and abetting in no deceit ; and I 
 will make no discovery. I will stand 
 aloof, and leave the issue to themselves. 
 Though my mother may be artful, Mr. 
 Winterdale is eagle-eyed, and may, by 
 his own foresight, escape the snare. 
 He cannot marry my mother, without 
 the disclosure of her real name ; and 
 this would probably lead to a discovery 
 of her situation. In that case, I must 
 bear my part of shame, for the past — 
 but a part of no more faults — if I can 
 help it. 
 
 0, Harriet, I begin to see the con- 
 sequences of my error ! I fear I shall 
 
THE I^IISER MARHIED. 137 
 
 lose my vivacity ; the flow of spirits 
 vi^hich should carry me through the 
 tvorld ! and, dreadful to say, I fear I 
 shall condemn my mother. 
 
 I have not, of late, mentioned Mr. 
 Montgomery. He visits us, without 
 ceasing, and his looks and actions de- 
 clare his partiality to me ; though his 
 words have not made the most distant 
 allusion to it : and how can they, when 
 he knows not whom it is, that he re- 
 gards ? Ought I not to repay his honest 
 frankness by saying, " I am your cou- 
 sin ; the presumptive heiress of an es- 
 tate your father is endeavouring to 
 wrest from me ?" If, then, his love 
 were serious, and mine could be gained, 
 in return, what more obvious than a 
 union of our interests ? But then I have 
 the humiliating, the destroying con- 
 fession to make <* I have lived be- 
 yond the income allowed by my guar- 
 
138 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 dians ! I have borrowed money of usur- 
 ers ! I am hiding my head, and dis- 
 owning my name, till I see the event 
 of my contest with yom* father !" What 
 honest man could take me to his bosom, 
 after this? and what prudent father 
 would consent to it, if he could ? 
 
 In how different a light do I now 
 view my conduct, from that in which it 
 appeared to me at the time! I then 
 thought I was only anticipating a small 
 part of future abundance, to supply pre- 
 sent necessity : now, it seems, that I 
 may have been robbing another, and 
 subjecting myself to the horrors of a 
 prison. The robbery may be ideal, if 
 things come to the worst ; but I assm^e 
 you the prison is not. When I come 
 of age, I shall be called upon to pay 
 a serious sum ', and, if 1 lose my cause, 
 I have no means to pay it. The very 
 trade of my creditors 3 the hazards they 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 139 
 
 run ; make them relentless. While my 
 suit is pending, they may spare me, 
 for their own sakes ; but if it be once 
 decided against me, I can hope for no 
 mercy. 
 
 My ruin involves that of my mother. 
 Her jointure nothing* can touch, during^ 
 her life ; but the five hundred pounds a 
 year she has received for my board and 
 education must be restored, if Sir James 
 should prove himself the right owner 
 of the Montgomery estate. Nothings 
 could be mine, but the personal estate 
 of my father. At first it was consi- 
 derable, but where is it now? dissi- 
 pated a thousand ways: and of whom 
 could I demand it ? of my own mother. 
 
 When I said there were two sorts of 
 things I would not grieve fo]- — those 
 I could help, and those I could not 
 help, I forgot a third, and the most 
 
140 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 oppressive — those I might have helped, 
 and did not. 
 
 Eleanor, from whom I do not con- 
 ceal a thought, endeavours to comfort 
 me, by reminding me that I ought not 
 to estimate my fault by its present ap- 
 pearance ; that it could neither be fore- 
 seen or imagined a competitor would 
 arise for what was then indisputably 
 mine ; and, finally, that this unexpected 
 claim may be a wise and merciful dis- 
 pensation of providence, to save me 
 from recurring to an expedient which 
 might have led me to disgrace and 
 ruin. 
 
 I will not trouble you with any 
 more of my melancholy reflections : 
 and, at present, I can write nothing 
 which is not of the same cast. 
 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 141 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, May 9, 1812, 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 My conjectures were too true. Last 
 night, after supper, nay mother began 
 by saying, " Charlotte, I vv^ish to have 
 a little conversation with you." 
 
 Eleanor rose, to leave the room. 
 
 *' No, sit down," said my mother. 
 " I look upon you as a second daugh- 
 ter. I have nothing to say to Char- 
 lotte that I do not wish you to hear." 
 
 Eleanor sat down. My mother seemed 
 a little at a loss how to proceed -, but, 
 after a moment's pause, she said, " In 
 using every means to humanize Mr. 
 Winterdale, and to contribute to his 
 comfort, I have, unexpectedly made a 
 
142 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 conquest of him. These men gene- 
 rally run from one extreme to the 
 other/' 
 
 " I believe it is very natural," said I. 
 
 " Perhaps it is," continued my mo- 
 ther. " I thought I observed his par- 
 tiality some time ago ; but, last week 
 he made me an earnest offer of himself; 
 and ever since has been endeavouring 
 to obtain my consent to our marri- 
 age." 
 
 My mother stopped. Eleanor and I 
 remained silent. 
 
 " I certaiiily never intended to ven- 
 ture upon a second marriage," con- 
 tinued she ; " but I thought, Charlotte, 
 I v^ould ask your advice." 
 
 " My advice is that you keep your 
 resolution," said I. 
 
 " Such, I suppose, would be the ge- 
 neral opinion of grown-up daughters, 
 with regard to their mothers ; however 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 143 
 
 they might thiak for themselves. Bat 
 my sentiments are, that Mr. Winter- 
 dale, with six thousand pounds a year, 
 is not to be rejected without some de- 
 liberation." 
 
 " You could not marry Mr. Winter- 
 dale, Madam, without, telling him who 
 you are?" - 
 
 " I have ah'eady told him," replied 
 my mother. 
 
 ^' And what is his opinion," de- 
 manded I, ^' of a woman who assumes 
 a borrowed name, and flies to a distant 
 part of the kingdom, to avoid her 
 creditors ?" 
 
 ** It was not necessary to ask his 
 opinion upon that point," answered my 
 mother ; " any more than it was for you 
 to ask so impertinent a question. There 
 are other reasons sufficient to account 
 for our leaving town, and changing our 
 name. If I were tired of our expen- 
 
144 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 sive way of living ; of our parties, and 
 public places ; and chose to retire into 
 the country, and adopt a different way 
 of life ; my own inclination is a suffici- 
 ent motive : I need not assign any 
 cause for that inclination." 
 
 *^ Is such an inclination a sufficient 
 motive for assuming a feigned name," 
 said I ? 
 
 ** Certainly," replied my mother. 
 ** Do you think some of the Mends of 
 Lady Montgomery would not have 
 found her out, in the country, and broken 
 in upon her plans?'* 
 
 " Indeed, I fear they would," said I, 
 with a deep sigh ; " and I fear it still." 
 
 " It would be to get rid of the ap- 
 prehension you allude to, and which 
 haunts me, as well as yourself, that I 
 might be brought to listen to Mr. Win- 
 terdale." 
 
 " You surely would not marry him, 
 
THE MISJER MARRIED. 145 
 
 Madam, without iaforming him haw 
 much you are in debt ?" 
 
 ** How could I do that, when I do 
 not know myself?" 
 
 " But you could give him information 
 of the fact; though not of the par- 
 ticulars.'* 
 
 ^* Do you think he would retain his 
 good opinion of me, if I did ?" 
 
 ^' He would not. But what is the 
 good opinion worth that is not founded 
 upon truth, and that can only last till 
 the cheat is discovered ?" 
 
 " Allow me to tell you, Miss Mont- 
 gomery, that you make use of very ex- 
 traordinary language to your mother." 
 
 " Pardon me, dear Madam," said 1 1 
 " my nature revolts against it ; but 
 consider, pray consider, that the world 
 will give it no milder a name ; and that 
 the hatred and contempt of Mr. Win- 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 terdale, himself, must be the conse- 
 quence of such a trick.'* 
 
 " Again,*' exclaimed my mother! 
 ^' The world's opinion I little care for : 
 and as to Mr. Winterdale's opinion, 
 when the discovery is made ; we must 
 fight it out, like other married people, 
 and when we are both tired, we may 
 sit down and be friends." 
 
 " My dear mother," said I, " if you 
 set the world at nought, and believe 
 you can manage Mr. Winterdale , is 
 the peace of your own bosom ; is the 
 approbation of your own conscience, of 
 no value ?" 
 
 ^' Conscience is a fine thing to talk 
 of," replied my mother, ^< and when 
 it can be pleased I admire it. But do 
 you think my conscience is easy now ? 
 do not I owe money which I cannot 
 pay ? am not I between two evils, and 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 147 
 
 should, therefore chuse the least ? shall 
 I remain indebted to a number of poor 
 trades-people, whose families are suf- 
 fering* for the loss? or shall I compel 
 a man to pay them, who has been long 
 hoarding money, for no earthly purpose, 
 but to look at it ?" 
 
 ** If you take my advice," said I, 
 " you shall not repair one error, by 
 committing another. It is the usual 
 consequence of faults to lead to faults ; 
 but, be the result what it might, I would 
 stop short at the first." 
 
 " You that can so readily tell me 
 what I ought not to do," said my mother, 
 ,^i tell me what I can do." 
 
 " Openly confess your situation to 
 Mr. Winterdale," said I, " Tell him 
 you cannot impose upon him . Tell him 
 you sought the shelter of Ravenhill 
 Lodge for security to yourself, not to 
 deceive others; and, least of all him, 
 h2 
 
J 48 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 who professes a reg'ard for you. Tell 
 him that you are laying- by the super- 
 fluous part of your income, towards re- 
 trieving* your affairs, and that if my 
 father's estate be awarded to me, I shall 
 supply the rest. If he has any gene- 
 rosity your ingenuous conduct will not 
 go unrequited ; if he has not, let him 
 go ; and by steadily persevering in a 
 system of economy, we may, at some 
 future time, look the world in the face." 
 " Yes," said my mother, " by the 
 time I am threescore. You who ex- 
 pect Montgomery to rescue you from 
 obscurity, may talk of economy and 
 perseverance; but what is to become 
 of me ? Am I to grow grey at a lodge, 
 which is never visited by any human 
 being, but the *squire and the parson, 
 and not even by these together, till your 
 chancery suit is decided ? and ever 
 after, if it be decided against you ? 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 149 
 
 unless, indeed, I were hunted out of it, 
 and obliged to board with some village 
 curate, at fifty pounds a year, while my 
 jointure were appropriated to the dis- 
 charge of my debts !" 
 
 " Montgomery,'* replied 1, ** has ne- 
 ver spoken to me of love — but, if he 
 loved me to distraction, and I loved 
 him no less; and if his father stood by, 
 intreating me to accept his son; I 
 would sooner die in such a retreat as 
 you mention, than marry him, till I 
 had made a full confession of my 
 folly." 
 
 ^ " And I never will add that folly to 
 my others," said my mother. " But, 
 perhaps, you, who have such a taste for 
 acknowledging errors, may take upon 
 you to disclose mine ?" 
 
 " No," replied I : "I conceive it 
 would be unbecoming your daughter 
 to expose the faults of her parent; 
 
150 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 but in you it would be jiist to reveal 
 your own. I would fain say noble -, but 
 it is no more than just. I once more 
 beseech you, my dear mother, do not 
 ruin your future peace, both as it regards 
 Mr. Winterdale and yourself, by such 
 unworthy duplicity!'' 
 
 " Have I not answered your beseech- 
 ments, already," said my mother ? 
 " Have I not told you that I think it 
 less dishonourable to discharge my 
 debts with money which will be my own, 
 than to remain in a situation in which 
 I cannot discharge them ? and, as to 
 Mr. Winterdale, I think the widow of 
 Sir George Montgomery, with my per- 
 son, and a jointure of a thousand pounds 
 a year, is a very good match for him ; 
 if she do owe a little money. Besides, 
 am not I ten or a dozen years younger 
 than he ? and ought he not to pay for 
 that?" 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 151 
 
 " Possibly he might be of your opi- 
 nion," said I, " if he were acquainted 
 with the truth." 
 
 " That is a hazard I again tell you 
 I will not run," answered my mother. 
 
 " Are you not afraid," said I, " that 
 chance may make the discovery, before 
 the man'iage can take place ?" 
 
 " I must trvist to chance for that," 
 replied my mother. " If it should, 
 Mr. Winterdale must either exercise 
 his generosity or his prudence ; and I 
 must evince either miy gratitude or my 
 patience." 
 
 " Would not you think it right," said 
 Eleanor, " to inform him of the chan- 
 cery suit ?" 
 
 " I have done it," answered my mo- 
 ther ; " and I believe his earnest de- 
 sire to have the management of a suit 
 in chancery is one of his inducements to 
 make proposals to me." 
 
152 THE MISER MTARRIED. 
 
 My mother then rung- the bell for 
 Horton, and retired. 
 
 Eleanor and I looked at each other, 
 for some moments, in silence ; at length 
 I said, ** So you see her ladyship has 
 asked my advice just when she was de- 
 termined to do as she pleased !" 
 
 " That is the proper time to ask ad- 
 vice," said Eleanor. " If you happen 
 to be of the opinion of the person who 
 asks it, he avails himself of your sanc- 
 tion ; if you do not, he enters into an 
 argument with you. I remember read- 
 ing of an elderly gentleman, who sent 
 for two of his friends, and consulted 
 them on the propriety of his marrying 
 liis housekeeper. He enumerated all 
 her good qualities, and all the advan- 
 tages that would accrue to hmiself, 
 from such a step. The friends were not 
 convinced, and remonstrated against it. 
 The gentleman urged his former argu- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 153 
 
 ments, with greater force. One of the 
 friends was beginning to answer them, 
 with some warmth ; when the other, 
 more sagacious, stopped him. *' Be- 
 fore you proceed any further," said he, 
 " give me leave to ask our friend one 
 question — Are you not already mar- 
 ried ?" The gentleman owned he was. 
 " Well, then," said the friend, " no- 
 thing remains but to wish you joy, and 
 to beg we may have the honour of salut- 
 ing your lady." The lady was accord- 
 ingly introduced, and placed at the 
 head of the table; and the visit passed 
 off to the satisfaction of all parties. 
 As the two friends were returning home 
 together, the gentleman who had been 
 prepared to argue thanked the other 
 for his timely interference : For said he, 
 " if you had not prevented me, I should 
 have said some things for which our 
 friend would never have forgiven me^ 
 h5 
 
154 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 But how came it to enter into your 
 head," continued he, " that he was mar- 
 ried ?'' " I don't know," replied the 
 other. I fancied he had done a foolish 
 thing", and had a mind to shelter him- 
 self under our advice." 
 
 " I am glad, however," said I, " that 
 I have disburthened my mind freely to 
 my mother. Though no good can re- 
 sult from it, with regard to her, much 
 will to myself. I feel more at ease 
 than I have ever done since I suspected 
 her design. 
 
 Ever your's, 
 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 155 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, Mai/ 16, 1812. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 Mr. WiNTERDAXE left us last Mon- 
 day, and has not been at the Lodge 
 since ; so it seems the projected match 
 is not yet to be brought under the dis- 
 cussion of the public. Mr. Henry says 
 his father is going* to London upon busi- 
 ness, as soon as he dare trust his leg. 
 Perhaps that business may be to make 
 enquiries concerning Lady Montgo- 
 mery, and the intelligence may be such 
 as will keep her ladyship a widow. It 
 can hardly be imagined that the careful, 
 prying, penetrating Mr. Winterdale 
 should take her upon her own word. 
 He must be far gone, indeed, if he does. 
 
156 THE MISER MAKRIEB. 
 
 Mr. Henry visits us as usual. I said 
 to him, this morning, " You find you 
 were mistaken in supposing that Mr. 
 Winterd ale would not forsake the Lodge, 
 when he was once able to get away 
 from it. He is not half so civil as 
 Noah's dove : she came back twice to 
 her benefactor, before she quitted him 
 for ever; he does not even return 
 once." 
 
 " It was necessity, not gratitude, 
 that brought her back" said Eleanor. 
 ** You know the waters still covered the 
 earth, and she found no rest for the sole 
 of her foot." 
 
 *' Then there are hopes of Mr. Win- 
 terdale," said I. " Necessity may yet 
 be our friend." 
 
 *' It is the most extraordinary circum- 
 stance I ever met with," said Henry. 
 **I could not have believed it was in 
 human nature to receive the benefits my 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. J 57 
 
 father has from Mrs. Mereval, and, as 
 soon as he had escaped from her house, 
 to shew no remembrance of them !" 
 
 " There is a great deal more in hu- 
 man nature than you know of,'* said I. 
 
 " There is much I never wish to 
 know," replied he. " I wish I had 
 never known such a flagrant instance 
 of ingratitude in my father." 
 
 " You never saw Mr. Winterdale 
 and my mother together, as we have," 
 said I. " She thought it proper to give 
 the father and son an opportunity of un- 
 reserved conversation, and therefore 
 g'enerally withdrew when you came; 
 but Eleanor and I have lately passed 
 our evenings with them ; and, I assure 
 you, we observed a complacency in his 
 behaviour towards my mother, that we 
 did not expect." 
 
 " What can have become of it then," 
 said he ? 
 
158 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 " I do not know," replied I ; " but 
 I suspect it is bottled up ; and bye and 
 bye the cork will fly, and it will all 
 come out, with a bounce." 
 
 Henry could not help laughing- ; 
 though he looked very anxious. " What 
 do you mean," cried he ? 
 
 " I intend to practise a very wise 
 look, if my face is capable of it, before 
 I tell you," answered I. 
 
 He looked, with eager eyes, on 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " Charlotte has a mind to amuse her- 
 self with your impatience," said she ; 
 " but we really imagine there is a little 
 love between Mr. Winterdale and Mrs. 
 Mereval." 
 
 The lightning flashed from his eye in 
 a moment. But, checking himself, he 
 said, " May 1 credit you. Miss Mow- 
 bray?" 
 
 " How monstrous," exclaimed I ! 
 **Does any body doubt Miss Mowbray ? 
 
THE MISER MAHRTEB. 159 
 
 If I had asserted it, indeed, you mig-ht 
 have looked incredulous." 
 
 *^ Pardon me." he cried. " I was 
 afraid to give way to the pleasure I 
 felt — but I cannot doubt it. The con- 
 duct of my father can only be accounted 
 for by love or hatred. Gratitude would 
 have pursued a middle course ; and ha- 
 tred is as impossible as that it should 
 be the nature of the sun to freeze." 
 
 " If a certain event should take 
 place," said I, " how happy we shall 
 all be, as brother and sisters ' We shall 
 enliven that old hall of yours ; and take 
 the damask curtains out of the hands of 
 the spiders." 
 
 " I am still afraid to hope," said he, 
 " that Miss Mowbray and you would 
 honour the old hall so far as to make it 
 your home." 
 
 " What is my mother's castle is mine." 
 said I, " till some adventurous knight 
 
160 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 shall be bold enough to take me from it. 
 There sits Eleanor : let her answer for 
 herself." 
 
 " And I," said Eleanor, " will never 
 leave my cousin for a less cause ; nor 
 even for that if I can help it. It 
 should require two knights to sepa- 
 rate us. 
 
 " How lavely is friendship in two 
 beautiful young females," exclaimed 
 Henry ! ** The man that would divide 
 you, does not deserve either. But how 
 shall I express my emotions of joy and 
 wonder at what you tell me ? a circum- 
 stance so much beyond my hopes, that 
 it never entered my mind." 
 
 " Why, you are as much transported 
 as if you were going to marry my mo- 
 ther yourself," said I. 
 
 ** A great deal more," replied he ; 
 " for am I not to live with you and Miss 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 161 
 
 Mowbray morning', noon, and evening ? 
 is not my home to be your home ?" 
 
 <^ Softly," said I; " that is by no 
 means certain. A moment ago you 
 would not believe a fact ; and now you 
 are carrying it to all its possible conse- 
 quences. You do not consider that 
 your father may repent, before it is 
 too late." 
 
 " Neither then, or ever, I hope,"^ 
 said Henry. 
 
 I sighed. 
 
 ** There are some young men," said 
 Eleanor, " who would not hail the idea 
 of a mother-in-law with so much 
 pleasure." 
 
 *^ Perhaps I might be one of the num- 
 ber, if I were differently situated," re- 
 plied he. '* You perceive I have asso- 
 ciated other ideas with it ; and tliat of 
 enjoying your company and Miss Mere- 
 vaFs, is among the first. But 1 hope 
 
162 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 to see the good effects of such a union 
 on my father. I hope to see his unso- 
 cial habits yielding to the sweets of love 
 and friendship ; and his parsimonious 
 ones to the dictates of Mrs. Mereval's 
 propriety and generosity." 
 
 " Ah !" said I, " be not too sanguine ; 
 the age of miracles is past." 
 
 " What cannot love accomplish," 
 said Henry ? " his miracles can never 
 be past. Did he not transform an mi- 
 feeling clod into an ardent lover. ?" 
 
 " Cymon vs^as not almost fifty," re- 
 plied I; " nor had he lived twenty 
 years by himself." 
 
 " But is not love daily assimilating 
 the most distant characters," asked 
 Henry. 
 
 " I believe," said Eleanor, " a simi- 
 larity of disposition is not necessary to 
 create love : this instance will prove it, as 
 well as a thousand others : but, I think,. 
 
THE MISER MAimiEB. 163 
 
 when married people have lived toge- 
 ther some time, they g-radually approach 
 nearer the character of each other ; by 
 a wish to please ; by mutual sacrifices 
 of their own inclinations ; by imitation, 
 which has some influence, though, per- 
 haps, unknown to themselves ; and, last 
 of all, by habit." 
 
 " If you are right," said Henry, " as 
 I believe you are, how careful ought 
 people to be in marriage ; since, if they 
 chuse ill, the good will become bad, 
 and the bad worse." 
 
 " But, on the other hand," said I, 
 " the bad will be mended, and the hu- 
 man race not worse, upon the whole ; 
 which seems to me a fairer way than 
 that a few families should hoard up all 
 excellence within themselves, and leave 
 the rest of mankind in a state of hope- 
 less reprobation." 
 
164 THE MISER MARRIEI>. 
 
 " Then," said Henry, ** we will leave 
 the good and bad to mingle as they may, 
 and make as tolerable a production 
 as they can : and, farther, we will 
 match opposite vices, to create virtues. 
 Thus rashness and cowardice may pro- 
 duce patience; carelessness and envy, 
 emulation ; and avarice and profusion, 
 generosity.'* 
 
 You see, my dear Harriet, that Mr. 
 Winterdale has made a better choice 
 than I expected. I hope my mother's, 
 disposition and his will have a salutary 
 effect upon each other. As for any little 
 brother and sister Generosities, I should 
 think Mr. Henry would excuse their 
 appearance. 
 
 I need not tell you that we cau- 
 tioned Henry with regard to secresy ; 
 or that he was aware of its necessity, 
 as well as ourselves If the event 
 
THE MISER MAKRIED. 165 
 
 never happen, it is better not to have 
 been suspected ; if it do, let those con- 
 cerned divulge it in their own way. 
 
 Henry Winderdale's solicitudes and 
 attentions might be construed into love, 
 if they vrere directed to one of us ; but 
 he poises them so exactly, that neither 
 of us can say she has a greater share 
 than the other. As he has promised not 
 to divide, so he has resolved not to dis- 
 tinguish, Eleanor Movi^bray from 
 
 Your 
 Charlotte Merevai.. 
 
166 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 TO HENRY WINTERDAI.E, ESQ. 
 
 London, May 21, 1812. 
 
 DEAR HENRY, 
 
 I ARRIVED safe in town last night, 
 without any inconvenience to my leg" ; 
 and as I mean to make a short stay, I 
 have instantly set about the business that 
 brought me hither. I have called upon 
 my agent, and desired him to prepare 
 his accounts for my inspection, without 
 delay. But I have a business of far more 
 importance in hand, which I have not 
 yet informed you of. 
 
 You know what a solitary life I have 
 led for many years past. In fact, I 
 begin to be tired and ashamed of it. I 
 might, however, have continued it still, 
 
THE MlSlER MARRIED. 167 
 
 if accident had not brought me ac- 
 quainted with the lady at the Lodge. I 
 found her, at first, so humane, and so 
 careful of me, than I must have been 
 worse than a brute, not to have been 
 thankM ; and, upon further knowledge 
 of her, I discovered that she was pru- 
 dent, frugal, and of few words; and 
 that she had retired into the country 
 merely to avoid company. All these 
 things so gained upon me, that I did 
 not like the thoughts of returning home, 
 and giving up such a treasure. 
 
 While I was ruminating upon this 
 subject, and wishing to know some par- 
 ticulars of her family and fortune, her 
 maid brought her a letter, in my pre- 
 sence, which she opened, and I was 
 sufficiently near to see that it contained 
 a bank note of five hundred pounds. — - 
 Perceiving my curiosity was excited, 
 she put the open letter into my hands, 
 
i6B THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 saying", that though she had shunned the 
 society of a numerous acquaintance in 
 London, many of whom were attracted 
 by her daughter ; yet she would explain 
 her situation to me, whom she regarded 
 as a particular friend. She then pro- 
 ceeded to tell me that her real name 
 was Montgomery ; that she was the 
 widow of Sir George Montgomery ; 
 that her jointure was a thousand pounds 
 per annum ; and that the letter in my 
 hands was from a Mr. Mountney, an 
 eminent solicitor in London (whom I 
 knew by name) enclosing the last half 
 year's income. " You will observe," 
 continued she, " that the letter is ad- 
 dressed to Mrs. Mereval; but, within 
 it, my title is mentioned, though not 
 my name. My own inclination would 
 have led me to avoid the company I 
 have been too much drawn into ; but I 
 have an additional motive. A distant 
 
THE MISER MARRIED, 169 
 
 relation claims the estate of the late 
 Sir George ; the affair is now in Chan- 
 cery ; and though there is no doubt 
 that my daughter's right will be esta- 
 blished, I should not choose to appear 
 in the world, while it is disputed. We 
 have taken the name of Mereval, for 
 the present, that we may not be follow- 
 ed and interrupted by such of our ac- 
 quaintance as might be disposed to 
 break in upon our retirement." 
 
 I thanked Lady Montgomery for 
 her confidence, and it determined me 
 immediately, as to the course I should 
 take. I told her that her society was 
 become so agreeable to me, that I 
 dreaded to lose it, as the time approach- 
 ed when I must quit her house ; and, 
 that if she thought favourably enough 
 of me to accept my offer, I would 
 make her an additional jointure of 
 five hundred pounds per annum, and 
 
170 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 undertake the manag'eraent of the 
 chancery suit. She received my pro- 
 posal like a woman who was not in 
 haste to refuse it ; and, soon after, I 
 obtained her consent. 
 
 You know I am under no obligation 
 to justify my conduct to you, who are 
 my son ; or even to give any reason 
 for it ; but I will take upon me to say, 
 that independent of the person of Lady 
 Montgomery, and my regard for her, 
 this is one of the best bargains I ever 
 made in my life. She requires no car- 
 riage, not even another servant in the 
 house, except those she will bring with 
 her from the Lodge, which are indis- 
 pensable. She will add a thousand 
 pounds a year to my income ; and, 
 upon the exact est calculation I can 
 make, she and her three women ser- 
 vants will not cost me three hundred 
 pounds. There is seven hundred 
 
THE MIS^R MAKRIE1>. 171 
 
 pounds annual gain. Her daughter 
 will pay me two hundred pounds a 
 year for her board, and will not even 
 have a maid to wait upon her. She 
 cannot eat and drink more than thirty 
 shillings a week, which will amount to 
 seventy-eight pounds a year ; say 
 eighty, for the sake of even numbers. 
 That increases the profit to eight hun- 
 dred and twenty pomids. Miss Mow- 
 bray will also pay two hundred pounds, 
 which, at the same rate, makes nine 
 hundred and forty. She will pay a 
 hundred pounds for her two servants : 
 and I would willingly take sixt}- 
 pounds out of this, to make up my 
 thousand ; which I ought to do, as they 
 will chiefly consume what is left at 
 our own table ; but servants are such a 
 set of confounded wasters, that I dare 
 not. I slmll not lose by them, bowe- 
 i2 
 
172 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ver; and we can make Miss Mow- 
 bray's man assist Mendall. 
 
 Thus, you will see, at a fair caJcula- 
 tion, I cannot gain less than nine hun- 
 dred pounds per annum by my mar- 
 riage with Lady Montgomery ; and 
 prudence would have decided for it, 
 had inclination been out of the ques- 
 tion. Of the truth of her statement, 
 the letter I saw, was a sufficient 
 voucher ; but that I might have no- 
 thing to reproach myself with, I, this 
 morning called upon Mr. Mountney, 
 who confirmed every syllable of it; 
 her jointure, her retiring from the 
 world, her assuming the name of Me- 
 reval, and the chancery suit. 
 
 Charity would have been another 
 motive for my marrying Lady Mont- 
 gomery, if I had wanted one. What 
 a pity would it be for a couple of poor 
 defenceless women to be plagued with 
 
THE 31ISER MARHIED. 173 
 
 a suit in chancery, while I had nothing 
 to do but manage a few actions at 
 common law. I shall take great plea- 
 sure in conducting it, and I am sure 
 we shall win. 
 
 I have another project in my head, 
 which you cannot fail to approve. 
 
 The Montgomery estate is upwards 
 of £8,000 per annum, and I believe 
 it is capable of being raised to £10,000. 
 When the law-suit is determined in 
 her favour, you shall marry Miss Mont- 
 gomery. And now, you cannot but 
 say that, with such a wife, aud such a 
 fortune, I have amply provided for 
 you. In the mean time, you will have 
 every opportunity to take care that 
 another does not snap her up. It is 
 true the girl is a little pert; but with 
 her person, family and fortune, some- 
 thing must be excused. 
 
174 THE MISER MAKRIEB. 
 
 I had some thoughts of proposing 
 an excursion into Wales to Lady 
 Montgomery and her family, marrying 
 her when there, and taking her straight 
 to Winterdale Hall, on our return ; but 
 I have changed my mind, to spite the 
 parson. I will make him publish the 
 banns in the church, three times, for a 
 shilling ; and then marry us for the 
 least sum allowed by law. What that 
 is, I know not. I mean to enquire of 
 my attorney ; but I believe it is ten- 
 pence. You will, therefore, send him 
 a shilling, as soon as you receive this, 
 and a written order to publish the 
 banns of marriage between John 
 Winterdale and Mary Montgomery, 
 both of this parish ; and you will de- 
 sire it to be done the three first days 
 that there is service in the church. Do 
 not fail ; and whatever questions may 
 be asked you, answer none. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 175 
 
 You will likewise give Martha the 
 keys of all the rooms, and tell her to 
 air them, and put every thing in order. 
 The labourer's wife may help her. 
 And let the ham that is not so good as 
 it should be, be eaten. 
 
 I hope you are satisfied with the 
 sixty pounds a year that I have con- 
 sented to allow you. I am sure it is 
 more than I could spend, if I had 
 meat, drink, washing and lodging pro- 
 vided for me, as you have. I thought 
 fifty more than sufficient ; but I had a 
 mind to be munificent, so threw in the 
 other ten. 
 
 I have made Mendall acquainted 
 with my matrimonial scheme. He 
 approves it very much. I shall new 
 dress both myself and him, in London* 
 Deliver the letter inclosed with this, 
 
176 THE MISER MAKRIEB. 
 
 as directed ; and write a line, to tell 
 me you have obeyed the orders of 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 John Winterdale. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED, 177 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 TO JOHN WINTERDALE, ESQ. LONDON, 
 WinterdaUy May 23, 1812. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I HAVE obeyed your commands, 
 with the strictest punctuality ^ though 
 I own I was sorry to be the instrument 
 of such a marked affi-ont to Mr. 
 Thacker. 
 
 It is with the sincerest pleasure that 
 I congratulate you on your approach- 
 ing marriage, and on the choice you 
 have made. The ladies at the Lodge 
 have always appeared to me, not only 
 among the most beautiful,but among the 
 most accompiislied and most deserving 
 of their sex ; and I should have blessed 
 the day that brought us acquainted 
 
 with them^ if it had not been distin- 
 I a 
 
178 THE MISER MARKIED. 
 
 guished by such a serious accident to 
 yourself. I look forward with great 
 satisfaction to the pleasure of such so- 
 ciety, in our present, and long past, 
 lonely mansion. 
 
 I have delivered your letter to 
 
 whom shall I say ? to Mrs. Mereval, 
 as it was directed ; and have introduc- 
 ed myself to the young ladies, as 
 their future brother. I know not how 
 to pronounce or write the name of 
 Montgomery ; as I have, myself, such 
 an inviolable regard for truth, that I 
 would have trusted to my own energy 
 to repel intruders, rather than have 
 shrunk from them, under a borrowed 
 name. 
 
 I have ventured to employ a few la- 
 bourers in the gardens and park, and 
 to send for some different workmen 
 from the town, to put the house in 
 wderj believing that on such an oc- 
 
THE MISER MAKRIEB. 179 
 
 casion, you would not choose to have 
 any thing wear the appearance of 
 neglect. 
 
 With regard to the allowance you 
 thought proper to offer me when I left 
 college, it is certainly inadequate to 
 the wants of a man in my station ; but 
 if such be your pleasure, I shall 
 bring my wants down to it ; for I 
 cannot beg, even of my father. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 Your ever dutiful and affectionate Son, 
 Henry Winteri>ale. 
 
180 THE MISER MARRIED, 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 TO MR. "WILLIAM MENDALL. 
 
 Winterdale, May 23, 1812. 
 DEAR MUSTER MENDALL, 
 
 As Muster Henry is so kind as to 
 offer to send this pissel for me, I must 
 rite a line to tel you the news ; tho 
 every thing is at sixes and sevvens, and 
 
 I dont kno wich to begin furst ; for I 
 am in sich a quandary, I cant tel how 
 to turn miself. The long and the short 
 is, my masters going to be marrid. 
 He is to be axt in church tomorro, wiclv 
 to be shure, is the most strangest thing 
 tha;t ever anny gentelman thot on. 
 For sich as wee to be axt in church is 
 all very natteral, and I shold have no 
 objecshons to it miself; but for a grand 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 181 
 
 gentleman like him, its quite monstriiss, 
 
 and wot is as odd, to the full, noboddy 
 
 does not kno who the lady is. Wen 
 
 Rafe tooke the banes to Mr. Thaccer 
 
 this morning", they had him into the 
 
 parler, and axt him if he knod wot 
 
 hid brot. And Rafe sed, No ; but I 
 
 was to ge a shillin with it, and there 
 
 it is. And they sed, says they, why its 
 
 banes a marrige between your master 
 
 and won Mary Munor-ummery ; who 
 
 is she ? Says Rafe, says he, thats moor 
 
 nor I can tell ^ for I never hard the 
 
 name befoor, in all my born days. 
 
 Why, says Mr. Thacker, says be, her, 
 
 is a this parish? Why then, says Rafe, 
 
 as yo be the parson a the parish, yo be 
 
 moor liklier to kno, nor I be ; how- 
 
 somever, I cont teli, and if I cold, I 
 
 has no borders to tell. 
 
 Now yo knos I have lived with the 
 Squire, sixteen yeres, come Martle- 
 
182 THE MISER MARRIE0. 
 
 tlenias, and in all that time, I never 
 seed him speke to no woman but my- 
 self. You and me has often s said he 
 mite take a fansy to Maddam Mere- 
 veal, seeing how kindly she behafed 
 to him, wen he brok his le^ ; but you 
 knos thare has never bin the day, never 
 since he left, that ever he has bin to 
 the Loge ; and moor nor that, her name 
 is not Mungummury; so it cant be 
 she. Now, I have bin a thinking, and 
 thinking, and I cant think of noboddy 
 but the young woman that cum sum 
 time ago to borde at Tummas Jennins. 
 Shes a pritty sort of a minnikin miss ; 
 and we none on us kno who she is, or 
 were she comes from ; and I am sure 
 her name is Mary : and I alis thot she 
 was no better nor she shuld be by her 
 waring her wite gownds ; so praps 
 master as bin thick with her, and wunt 
 let his child go to the parish. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 18^ 
 
 But dont menchon no sich a thing", I 
 beg" on you ; for I wold not have it 
 come to his ears for no mnnney ; and I 
 have not tould it to no Chrishtan sole, 
 but Rafe and Betty Tayler, that is come 
 help me to clene the house. But one 
 thing I can tel my master, and that is 
 that I have not bin mistris at the hall so 
 long to be under his lye by at last. No, 
 He get every thing in order, and set 
 every thing off to the best advantidge, 
 and noboddy shall have to say miss I 
 do, and He cuke the wedding dinner, 
 and Ime a thinking wot it shal be, and 
 how it shall be sot upon the tabel ; and 
 then He liver up the keys, and leaf my 
 master, and never darken his doors 
 agen ; and if I can see ever a sober, 
 stiddy, tidy young man, that has saved 
 some monny, and wants a industruss 
 wife, praps I may marry; and if I 
 
184 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 dont lie keep a scule, and larn children 
 to rede and spel, and nit and so. Thank 
 God I has not lived so long in my plase, 
 but Ive saved a little munny niiseif, and 
 I knos I am a pretty good scoUard. 
 
 Muster Henry is a dear, swete, young 
 gentleman. It will go to my hart to 
 leve you and him ; and I likes poore 
 Ralfe verry wel, and so I does Carlo; 
 and my master, himself, is not much 
 amis, wen you are at home, to luck ater 
 us, astead of he. I am shure I shal 
 cry to leav you all : but wot con a bod- 
 dy do ? for I never wil stay to be nock- 
 ed and pooled about by sich a mistris 
 as her, thats curtain. 
 
 I did not think I cold have stayed to 
 rite sich a longiettar; for wot with 
 sweepings, and doosteng, and skower- 
 ing, and thinking, I am at my wits 
 end. I runs up stares twenty times in 
 
THE 3IISER MAKKIED. 185 
 
 an hour, and afore I ^ets to the top, I 
 forgets wot for. So no more at pre- 
 sent from vour wel whisher and feller 
 sarvent;, 
 
 Martha Stable. 
 
186 THE 3IISEK MARRIEII. 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 TO MR. WYLMAM MENDALE. 
 
 Winter deal. May 23, 1812. 
 HONORiT cm, 
 
 HoppiNQ these wul find yo in gud 
 yelth, as threw marsy I be at this time, 
 I be gooin to tel yo the neues ; tho I d(> 
 suppose as it goos with Misis Mathers, 
 hur wul save me the troubbel; let a 
 human alone for that. If yo dos not 
 no, yo wul not gess o sevin yere. Mastr 
 be gooin to be morrid. I tuk the 
 banes a mattremony, mi own self, this 
 mornin to the parsun, for im to be 
 acksd a the chorch with Mary Mund- 
 gumbrey ; and us conna find out, for 
 the blood on us, whoever hur may be. 
 Misis Mathur thinks as how it be the 
 pratty young homan as be at Jennins, 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 187 
 
 becos her be a tite wench, and nobody 
 do no hur : for my part, I did think it 
 must be Madam Merriwool, seein as 
 how he binna akwinted with no othur 
 o hoomankind, and I thot as hur mut 
 change hur name o purpuss to hav im ; 
 but I went to the blacksmiths just now, 
 to get a boss shod, and the willrit says 
 as how a hooman conna chang hur 
 name till her be afore the pareson ; and 
 so it conna be she. Dik Morris said 
 it must be som Lunnon lady, an mastr 
 wos gon to fatch hur ; but the wilrit 
 sad, yo grate fewl, how can that be ? 
 this binna itha porish o Lunnon, be it ; 
 and the parsun tould Rafe, here, both 
 o this porrish, didnt he, Rafe ? That he 
 did, says I, an it must be a nashon lung 
 porrish, to rech from here to Lunnon ; 
 and then I up and told urn wot Mather 
 did say about the wench at Jennens; 
 
188 THE MISEK MARRIEO. 
 
 but, arter all our argleing", we wun fairi 
 to leav it as us fun it. 
 
 Now I be a thinkin that, as Master 
 allis insenses you of every thing, I 
 shud lik to here yor vardit, an if yo 
 wood but rite a few lines, just to let a 
 boddy a letel into the lite o things, I 
 shud tack it very kindly on you ; be- 
 case wy, as the parsun inaself donna no 
 nothin about it, I shud be the wisist 
 mon a the porrich ; and I wul gee yo 
 my word noboddy shuld na no it. 
 
 For my part 1 mus nids say I be glad 
 as mastr begooin to be morrid ; for us 
 mun ha sum maids about the house ; 
 and I hops they moy be pratty, an we 
 shal leed a more merry er lif an have 
 better dooins. Pure Mathar kiks and 
 winces, an conna abare the loshon of 
 having a mises, an moor speshally the 
 wench at Jennins ; an hur do soy hur 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 189 
 
 wuU hop the twig. But I do no wat 
 be wat ; an uf I cood stoy e my plase 
 as it has bin, I unna leaf it wen it be 
 better : and dear Mister Mendale I 
 hops yo wul considder on it, an not tak 
 bug", an purtend to think a leevin on 
 us : for I do not no wot upon Gods yarth 
 us shud do without yo ; for yo be lik, 
 as a boddy ma soy, to a good stout pal- 
 ing, as kips the hoolf from the ship, 
 wich be all at prison from 
 
 Yore's to commend, 
 
 Ralph Russetting. 
 
190 THE MISER MARRIEI>. 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, May 23, 1812. 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 Mr. Henry Winterdale called 
 upon us this afternoon, and delivered a 
 letter to my mother. She retired to 
 her dressing-room to read it, and he 
 shook hands with us both — Give me 
 joy, said he : we are brother and sis- 
 ters. I have received a letter from my 
 father, in which he formally announces 
 his intention of marrying — whom shall 
 I say ? for I know. 
 
 I coloured scarlet deep. " Say the 
 truth," replied I — I like either that or 
 nothing." 
 
 *' So do I," rejoined Henry. ** But 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 191 
 
 I must only speak it to you, at present ; 
 for my father has taken the extraordi- 
 nary resolution of having the banns of 
 marriage published in the church, in- 
 stead of being married with a license, 
 and he has cautioned me not to give 
 any information on the subject. I sent 
 the banns, this morning, to Mr. Thac- 
 ker, and no two people in the village 
 are together at this moment but are 
 endeavouring to find out the lady." 
 
 " I wish she may be found out," said 
 I. 
 
 " Why so," demanded he ? " If her 
 ladyship and my father choose to keep 
 the secret till they go to to church, it 
 concerns only themselves. Were I in 
 her place, as she is known here only by 
 the name of Mereval, I would not be 
 called Montgomery ; but would sink 
 both names together in that of Winter- 
 dale." 
 
192 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 " It would save part of the shame of 
 acknowledging deceit," said I. 
 
 " Surely you give it too harsh a 
 name," said Henry. " If Lady Mont- 
 oomery lays aside her rank, and lives 
 in an obscure country village, she im- 
 poses upon nobody ; she passes, not for 
 greater, but for less than she really is 
 How many kings and great personages 
 have travelled incognito without ever 
 having been accused of deceit ! I hope, 
 Miss Ivlowbray," continued he, ad- 
 dressing himself to my cousin, *' that 
 you are not one of them, and that I 
 may not hereafter discover you are of 
 too high a rank for me to claim you as 
 my sister." 
 
 "No," said Eleanor, "I am the 
 daughter of a worthy clergyman, and 
 the sister of Sir George Montgomery. 
 I have been brought up in a village as 
 retired as this. I have visited only the 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 193 
 
 neig-hbouring" families, and I have seen 
 no amusements but a concert, a ball, 
 or a play, at the next country town. I 
 had, therefore, no acquaintance to shun. 
 On the contrary, I wished to see the 
 great world; and, as I am now my 
 own mistress, I requested Lady Mont- 
 gomery to permit me to board with her. 
 It happened she was then withdrawing 
 from it ; and my inclination to enter 
 into the gay scenes of London gave 
 place to my desire to live with my cou- 
 sin, between whom and myself there 
 has been a great affection from our in- 
 fancy. It is not one of the least agree- 
 able ideas that present themselves to 
 my mind, on the approaching marriage 
 of Lady Montgomery, that I shall still 
 be allowed to make one of her family 
 — nor am I," added she, in a lower 
 voice, insensible to the pleasure of your 
 making a part of it." 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 Henry almost forgot his system of 
 equality. He seemed to devom* every 
 Ivord that Eleanor uttered, and when 
 she had ended, his answer came unfi- 
 nished from his tongue ; so inarticulate 
 that we knew not what it was. I re- 
 lieved him from his embarrassment by 
 saying, " Of one thing be assured, 
 Henry, that whatever dissimulation you 
 may discover in the Montgomeries, 
 there is none to be found in Miss Mow- 
 bray. She has never been other than 
 she seems, artless truth and candour 
 personified.'' 
 
 -Henry had now sufficiently recover- 
 ed himself to hold the balance even. 
 He said it was impossible for either of 
 'tis to lessen the great regard he felt for 
 us; or the pleasure he should derive 
 from our being inmates of the same 
 house. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 1^^ 
 
 " I wonder whether your great gate* 
 will open to receive us,'* said I. 
 
 '* I hope not," said Eleanor. "Mr. 
 Winterdale's habits are so confirmed, 
 that, if I were Lady Montgomery, I 
 should be very careful to make no in- 
 novations, but such as were indispen- 
 sable." 
 
 ** It is very extraordinary," said I, 
 " that none of us have ever caught a 
 glimpse of the mansion. It seems to 
 ^e to be surrounded by a spell, like 
 the palace of the sleeeping beauty ; 
 and I should not be surprized if, when 
 the fence has opened to admit the fu- 
 ture lady of the castle, it should close 
 again, to exclude her followers." 
 
 *' If that should prove the case," 
 said Eleanor, " we will get some old 
 duenna to look after us, and we will 
 rqm^tin at the lodge.' * 
 
 " The revolution that will be effected 
 K 2 
 
196 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 in our small family, by the introduction 
 of females, is so uncertain that I can 
 neither comprehend or anticipate it," 
 said Henry, " I can form no idea of 
 the consequences it will produce ; and 
 it seems so remote from every thing I 
 know to be fact, that I have some dif- 
 ficulty in believing it." 
 
 " I expect," said I, " that the very 
 doors will start off their hinges, with 
 surprize, at our entrance, and that the 
 ladies in your family pictures, if you 
 have any, will jump down from their 
 frames, to hail the appearance of some 
 of their sex. 
 
 " I can truly affirm," said Henry, 
 that I never saw a woman enter the 
 doors, but our female servant ; and two 
 others, who preceded her, when I was 
 a boy ; and I believe that no other 
 woman ever has entered them, since 
 the death of my respected mother." 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 197 
 
 ** I wonder,'* said I, " that you are 
 not petrified, and your father brutified 
 by such a way of life ! I declare I am 
 afraid to come among you ! I have only 
 yet seen you abroad, in the society of 
 Christians : what you may be in your 
 own den I dread to think of!" 
 
 " Not so savage as you seem to fear," 
 replied Henry." We preserve some- 
 thing of the manners of men, as well as 
 the forms. That my father's wife will 
 make a reform in the interior of the 
 house, I believe, and hope ; but I think 
 the observation dictated by Miss Mow- 
 bray's good sense, respecting caution, 
 would be well worth attending to. I 
 cannot tell, or even g^iess, where my 
 father will be conformable, or where 
 inflexible : I only know he is not accus- 
 tomed to contradiction." 
 
 " Miss Mowbray was certainly very 
 right," said I. " You know she and I 
 
1198 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 shall be only two pretty little cyphers 
 in the family ; btit were I in my mo- 
 ther's place, I would no more touch one 
 of the smallest habits of such a man, 
 than I would run my fingers into one 
 of the prickly, poisonous hedges of In- 
 dia. I should think it a deadly sin to 
 alter the form of his night cap.'* 
 
 " Do you think," said Eleanor, 
 " that we may be permitted to bring 
 our piano forte with us ?" 
 
 " Do I think I live," exclaimed Hen- 
 ry. " Is it possible to doubt, that you 
 are to employ and amuse yourselves 
 as you please! I have already found 
 out a domicile for you," added he, 
 " which I hope will not be unpleasant* 
 The front of Winterdale Hall is the 
 only part that is not enclosed by fine 
 venerable wood. In the centre of this, 
 on the first floor, is the drawing-room ; 
 and, on one side, is a large room, cona- 
 
THE MISER MARRIE1>. 199 
 
 municating with two smaller. These 
 I have destined for my sisters. The 
 view from all the windows is charmingj 
 extending over the distant country to 
 the Welsh hills. The furniture is rich, 
 old, and massive, and has never been 
 made use of in my memory. I have 
 given orders for its removal ^ imagining 
 you would prefer your own, as being 
 more modern and convenient. One of 
 these apartments will make a drawing- 
 room you can call your own. I have 
 not been altogether free from a selfish 
 motive in my arrangement ; for I hope 
 that, into this, you will sometimes do 
 me the favour to admit me ; and if you 
 give your piano forte a place in it, it 
 will aiford me a gratification as exqui- 
 site as it will be new. Nothing could 
 give me more pleasure," continued he, 
 " than to adorn these apartments with 
 all that I could conceive would be use- 
 
200 THE MTSER MARRIED. 
 
 ful or agreeable to you ; but — you 
 
 know I have not the power." 
 
 We thanked this excellent young" 
 
 man, almost with tears of gratitude ; 
 
 and assured him we were provided with 
 
 every thing of the kind he alluded to. 
 
 Tea was then brought in ; my mother 
 joined us; and not the least notice was 
 
 taken of the intended union of the two 
 
 families. 
 
 So far, my dear Harriet, my mother 
 
 goes on triumphantly. But Mr. Win- 
 terdale is in London : in the place, 
 where, if he fall into any company, he 
 may hear a reason given for the sudden 
 disappearance of Lady Montgomery, 
 that he has not dared to think of; where, 
 if he have dealings with any fashionable 
 tradesman, he may be told, on mention- 
 ing her name, that she is in his debt. 
 Her security rests upon his way of life. 
 Though London is familiar to him, it is 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 201 
 
 the streets, not the inhabitants ; and if 
 he have purchases to make, he will pro- 
 bably go to a cheaper market than she 
 did. He lodges in some street near 
 the Strand. 
 
 Ever your's, 
 
 Charlotte Mereval. 
 
 k5 
 
20S THB miser MARRIEB. 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, May 30, 1812. 
 MY DEAR HARRIlLT, 
 
 We have had a most serious alarm 
 this morning'. We were all three sit- 
 ting together after breakfast, when Ro- 
 bert entered the room, and told my 
 mother that a person below wanted to 
 speak to her upon business, and refused 
 to send up his name. 
 
 " Who can want to speak to me,'' 
 exclaimed my mother, with surprise, 
 and some confusion I " What is he ? 
 What does he look like ?" 
 
 " He is ill-looking enough, Madam," 
 answered Robert, " and rather shabby 
 than otherwise; but he has boots on, 
 9iRd a stick in his hand." 
 
THE MISEK MARRIEB. 203 
 
 " Tell him," said my mother, ** I 
 never admit any body I do not know." 
 
 The servant left the room, to deliver 
 the message. He retm*ned in a few 
 minutes, and told my mother that the 
 man said it did not signify telling his 
 name, for the lady did not know him ; 
 but that he was sent by a person whom 
 she knew very well, and that he could 
 deliver his errand to nobody but herselfc 
 
 ** My God,'* cried my mother! "what 
 shall I do ! The oddity of this fellow 
 has fluttered me so that I cannot see 
 him. Charlotte," continued she, " do 
 you attend me ; and Eleanor, my dear, 
 do speak to him for me, and tell him I 
 am not well. Bid the man come up," 
 said she to Robert, " and do you wait 
 in the hall.'* 
 
 We both understood her, in a mo^ 
 ment, and Eleanor said, " I am afraid 
 I shall make a bad substitute. An un- 
 
204 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 truth I cannot tell ; and I shall give 
 evasive answers with a very ill grace.'* 
 
 " My dear Eleanor," said my mo- 
 ther, " do what you can to serve me, 
 in your own way. I do not desire you 
 to act contrary to your principles.'* 
 
 We then left the room. 
 
 What were now my feelings? Did 
 I wish, as I had told Henry, that Lady 
 Montgomery might be found out? I 
 am afraid not. If truth must prevail, 
 I own I wished it might be in another 
 manner, and at another time. Do not, 
 /rom this, impeach my former veracity. 
 What I said to Henry was from the 
 impulse of the moment, and was, per- 
 haps more than duty to my mother 
 would have permitted me to say. 
 
 We were not long in suspense. In 
 about ten minutes Eleanor rang the bell, 
 and Robert ushered the mysterious 
 stranger down stairs. Would you believe 
 
THE MtSER MARRIED. 205 
 
 it, my dear Harriet ? — the man was a 
 beg-gar ! one of those common, tramp- 
 ing beggars, that never shew themselves 
 twice in a place ! 
 
 Robinson tells us, that she has se- 
 veral times seen families thrown into 
 confusion by this sort of gentry. Their 
 method is this. When they arrive at a 
 village, they go to the public house: 
 there they sit, and by dint of enquiries, 
 and pretended knowledge of persons, 
 they find out the name and connections 
 of every family in the neighbourhood. 
 They then enter the houses successively, 
 and pretend urgent business with the 
 master or mistress. They will take no 
 repulse from servants; and when they 
 are admitted, they introduce themselves 
 by recommendations from such as they 
 suppose the friends of the person they 
 are speaking to. 
 
 Robinson, says she once lived with 
 
206 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 a lady who had several times ordered 
 these soi'disant men of business to be 
 shewn into the dining* parlour, on the 
 ground floor, and had gone down stairs, 
 herself, to meet them. One had been 
 desired to wait upon her by a lady 
 whom she knew very well by name, 
 and whom it was very probable she 
 might have been acquainted with ; but 
 it so happened, that she had never 
 spoken to her in her life. Here Mr. 
 Intelligencer had palpably got upon a 
 wrong scent. Another brought her a 
 message from a friend at Bath ; but he 
 had unfortunately forgotten her name — 
 hoping, no doubt, that the lady would 
 furnish him with it ; but she happened, 
 unluckily for him, to be certain, that she 
 had no friend whatever at Bath. 
 
 But, to return to the gentleman who 
 was going to be introduced to Eleanor, 
 
 A young man, of very unfavourable 
 
THE MISER MARHTED. 207 
 
 appearance, dressed in a blue coat and 
 pantaloons, and a white waistcoat, not 
 very clean, entered the room; and, 
 making his bow, said, ** I presume you 
 are not Mrs. Mereval, Ma'am ?" 
 
 Eleanor said she was not; but that 
 whatever he had to say to Mrs. Mere- 
 val, he might say to her. 
 
 He then came up close to her, and, 
 with an air of secrecy, said, " I beg 
 your pardon. Ma'am, for intruding. 
 You have not the honour to know me," 
 Indeed I have not," said Eleanor;" 
 but though you are a stranger to me, I 
 am ready to hear your business." 
 
 I am very sorry to trouble Mrs. Me- 
 reval or you. Ma'am, upon such a busi- 
 ness;" but it h not my own fault," said 
 the man. 
 
 " Be so good as to let me know what 
 it is," said Eleanor. 
 
 *' I beg your pardoo, Ma'am," re- 
 
208 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 plied he: "I was desired to call upon 
 Mrs. Mereval. It is necessity that 
 obliges me to do it ! 
 
 " At whose desire do you come, and 
 what do you want?" said poor Eleanor, 
 tremblinof. 
 
 "I was desired to come by several 
 ladies in the neighbourhood," said the 
 man, " who all told me what a very 
 kind and good lady Mrs. Mereval was, 
 and that she would be sure to do some- 
 thing for me, if I could but see her. I 
 am not used to be troublesome, Ma'am ; 
 but I am in very great distress ; and if 
 you would be kind enough to represent 
 my case to Mrs. Mereval, or have the 
 goodness to consider it yourself. Ma'am, 
 I should think myself very much oblig- 
 ed to you, Ma'am." 
 
 Eleanor felt relieved in a moment ; 
 but, as her fears subsided, her indigna- 
 tion rose. " Is it possible" demanded 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 209 
 
 she, " that you can have the audacity 
 to insist upon penetrating* into people's 
 apartments on such business as this ! If 
 you had sent up your request by the 
 servant, you mi^ht have been relieved ; 
 but you may be assured, that neither 
 Mrs. Mereval or myself have any thing 
 to bestow on such daring intrusion; and 
 you may be thankful that there are no 
 gentlemen here at present, or perhaps 
 you would not have got off so cheaply." 
 
 The man then began to be abusive, 
 and told Eleanor that he was sure she 
 was no lady; that she was only the 
 lady's maid, dressed in her mistress's 
 cast cloaths; and that the lady l* rself 
 would have given him someching'. 
 Eleanor made no answer ; but, ringing 
 the bell, desired Robert to shew the 
 man down stairs, and see him out of 
 the house immediately. 
 
 We returned from our hiding place. 
 
210 THE MISBR MABRIEB. 
 
 and laughed at our fears, now they were 
 over. But, as there are stocks in every 
 parish in England, do not you think 
 they would be proper resting- places for 
 such vagrants as this? 
 
 We have had another visit since 1 
 wrote last, which should have taken 
 precedence of this, if I had given them 
 in their proper order; but my mind 
 was so engrossed by the man of busi- 
 ness, that I could not help introducing 
 him first. 
 
 On Sunday, straight from church, 
 came Mr. and Mrs. Thacker, and Mr. 
 Sharp, who is still at the parsonage. 
 Scarcely were they seated, when Mrs. 
 Thacker and Mr. Sharp began; the 
 one to attack my mother, the other, 
 Eleanor and me. ** What an amazing 
 thing," cried one ! " Did you iter 
 hear the like in all your life,'* cried the 
 other ! Could you have supposed \tpoS' 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 211 
 
 sable f' said the first? " Could you 
 iver have thought of any sich a thing," 
 said the second?" as Mr. Winterdale's 
 going to be married?" said the lady? 
 " and nuhhody can give the least guess 
 in the world, vrho he is going to have," 
 said the gentleman !" " and to have the 
 banns published in the church," said the 
 parson ! 
 
 At length Mrs. Thacker gained the 
 
 victory, and went on. " Can you tell 
 
 us, my dear Mrs. Merewle, who the 
 
 lady is? For my part, I think she's 
 
 rvery wentersome, I'm sure, if I was 
 
 single, and had not a bit if for tin, I 
 
 would not think of marrying such a 
 
 feller as him. What signifies his j^m- 
 
 maly and his estate, and his hall, and 
 
 his park ! he'll never let a lady have a 
 
 morsel of comfort, and nobody can 
 
 wisit her, and she can have no society. 
 
 I'm sure I would as soon trust myself 
 
212 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 alone with a bear as I would with him. 
 He's the most shocking, abominable 
 creter in the creation !'* 
 
 " Nay, now, aunt, now,'* said Mr. 
 Sharp, " you are too severe. You 
 must allow Mr. Winterdale to be hoo- 
 maiu To be sure, I niver spoke to the 
 gentleman in all my life; but I have 
 met him, both a foot and a horseback, 
 and I niver saw any thinh so very abo- 
 minable about him : nay, I think he is 
 rather a little hcmdsomish. Indeed I 
 shall be necessiated to take up the cud- 
 gels, in favour of us poor gentlemen, 
 if you run against us so; for I'm sure 
 you ladies can make your own sides 
 good at any time. I'm certain 
 there*s women in the creation far w?- 
 feror to Mr. Winterdale. He pays 
 iveri/ one their own, and niver gets 
 drunk. 
 
 ** That's all the good you can say of 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 215 
 
 him," said Mrs. Thacker, in reply to 
 this champion of his sex ; " but there's 
 somethmg more than that necessary 
 to make a lady happy. If a gentle- 
 man did run a little into debt, as many 
 wery fine gentlemen do ; and if he was 
 a little intoxicated now and then, as 
 some fine gentlemen are ; I had rather 
 have him, ten times over, if he would 
 let me dress in the fashion, and go to 
 public places, and keep what company 
 I pleased, and spend what money I 
 pleased, than I would have such a cur- 
 mudgeon as Mr. Winterdale, who does 
 nothing but scrape money together^ 
 and keep folks at a distance." 
 
 ** But, my dear," said Mr. Thacker, 
 " while you are talking in this manner, 
 you forget that the purport of our visit 
 was, to inquire whether Mrs, Mereval 
 knew any thing of the intended 
 bride," 
 
214 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 *ViNo, I diOXi if or git,'' answered the 
 lady ', " I should have come to it bye 
 and bye; but you g^entlemen ne^er like 
 to hear any body speak but yourselves. 
 Have not you been talking" this wery 
 day, in your pulpit, and your desk, for 
 an hour or two together, and nobody 
 never said one word to interrupt you? 
 and now, when we come to a little pri- 
 mate conwersation. I tliink you ought 
 to leave it to me. And so, my dear 
 Mrs. Merivle, do you know who this 
 Mary Montgomery is ?" 
 
 " I do," replied my mother. 
 
 "Well!" said Mrs. Thacker, ".w^ 
 are the luckiest people in the world." 
 
 " Well !" said Mr. Thacker, " you 
 know it was I that advised you to 
 ask Mrs. Mereval." 
 
 "W^ell!" said Mr. Sharp, «it is 
 the very fortunatist thing that iver I 
 knew in all my life." 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 215 
 
 " Pray," said Mrs. Thacker, « who 
 is she ?" 
 
 " That is a question not so easily 
 answered," replied my mother; "for, 
 Mr. Henry Winterdale told us under 
 the most positive injunctions of se- 
 cresy." 
 
 a Why, you cannot be so ill^natered, 
 certainly/' said Mrs. Thacker, " as not 
 to tell lis ; your M;er?/ particular friends. 
 You may depend upon it, it shall go 
 no further." 
 
 My mother was silent. 
 " It would not be right to break 
 your word," said Mr. Thacker ; "but 
 you may just give us ^ hint ; or let us 
 guess, and tell us when we are vmrong." 
 " But, Mr. Thacker," said my mo- 
 ther, "the promise required of us 
 was, to answer no questions ; for Mr. 
 Winterdale foresaw, as well as your- 
 self, that if we were to answer in the 
 
216 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 negative to all false conjectures, our 
 silence might, at last, divulge the 
 truth." 
 
 " Then the young ladies know, as 
 well as yourself," said Mr. Sharp? 
 
 ** They do," replied my mother. 
 
 " Then, now, my dear, sweet, pretty 
 Miss Mereval and Miss Mowbray," 
 said he, " I know I shall get it out of 
 you; for you cannot find in your 
 hearts to be so cruel, as to have the 
 cruelty to deny me. Now, do, pray, 
 tell me who the lady is ?" 
 
 " That will not do," said I ; "you 
 must try again." 
 
 " Why, what can I say more," de- 
 manded Mr. Sharp ? " I'd marry you, 
 if there was but one ; but the Doctor 
 here, won't let me have both of you ; 
 and you are such dear, lovely, bewitch- 
 ing anyilsj that I can't tell, for the 
 
THE MISER 3IARR1ED* 217 
 
 life and soul of me, which I should 
 choose.'* 
 
 " You bid high, indeed, now," said 
 I ; ** but still I keep my secret. 
 
 " And so do I," said Eleanor. 
 
 **Well, I must confess," said Mr. 
 Sharp, " it is the very strangest and 
 wonderfullest thing that iver I knew 
 in all my life." 
 
 ^* Very extraordinary, indeed," said 
 Mr. Thacker ! " three women intrust- 
 ed with a secret, and not one tell it!" 
 
 "You are always so sewereu^ow we 
 ladies," said his wife. " The most ex- 
 traornary thing w^ould be to refuse Mr. 
 Sharp ; though, to be sure, the ladies 
 don't think he's in earnest." 
 
 " Some people," said Mr. Thacker, 
 returning to the charge, " say that Mr. 
 Winter dale is going to marry a young 
 person at farmer Jennings's ; but I 
 cannot believe it ^ for I cannot disco- 
 
 YOL. T. T. 
 
218 THE MISER MARUIEB. 
 
 n er that he has ever been to Jenning^s, 
 except to speak to the farmer.'* 
 
 My mother was silent. 
 
 " What signifies mincing' the mat- 
 ter," cried Mrs. Thacker. " I like to 
 be upright and downright. People do 
 sat/, Mrs. Merewle, that its you, and 
 nobody else ; and that, somehow or 
 other, your name is Montgomery ; for 
 they say, you are the only person in 
 this parish that Mr. Winterdale is ac- 
 quainted with.'* 
 
 I durst not look at my mother. But 
 she answered, with great composure, 
 ** I cannot help what people say ; nor 
 does it give me any disturbance. My 
 acquaintance with Mr. Winterdale was 
 neither of his seeking or mine.*' 
 
 " There,'* said Mr. Sharp; " you sec 
 she can't deny it, howiver. We've 
 caiched you. Ma'am. You can't say 
 it is not you — can you ?" 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. *>19 
 
 " You forget," replied my mother, 
 *^that I have promised to say nothing 
 about it." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Thacker, " if you 
 can stand that, you can stand any 
 thing, and we must give it up, I be- 
 lieve. We shall all knovi^ bye and 
 bye, and so vt e must have patience — 
 But will you give me leave to ask you 
 one question ?" 
 
 "As many as you please," replied 
 my mother. 
 
 " Aye," said Mr. Sharp, " you may 
 easily give us leave to ask questions, 
 when you are determined not to an- 
 swer any in the world." 
 
 " I shall be very happy to give Mrs. 
 Thacker any information in my power," 
 said my mother, " if it is upon a subject 
 on which I am permitted to speak." 
 
 ** Well, you may speak to this," said 
 1.2 
 
220 THE MISER MARIITE1>. 
 
 Mrs. Thacker. '* Do you intend to 
 7visit the bride ?'* 
 
 "Indeed," replied my mother, "I 
 have not yet given it a thought. I 
 should suppose it will hardly be ex- 
 pected ; for Mr. Winterdale has not 
 even been at the Lodge, to thank me 
 for my trouble during* his confinement; 
 but, as you are the vicar's lady, I 
 should certainly visit her, if I were 
 you.'^ 
 
 "Me!" exclaimed Mrs. Thacker. 
 " Why don't yon know how shocking- 
 ly he has treated Mr. Thacker! I 
 think it would be wer^ improper for 
 me to notice his vife" 
 
 " I think so too," said the husband. 
 
 '' Mr. Thacker," said the lady, *' I 
 wish you would mind your own preach- 
 ing, and not purtend to meddle and 
 make with the ^visits of we ladies. Its 
 quite out of your spere, I assure you. 
 
rms MISEK MARRIED, 221 
 
 Certainly Mis. 31ereivle and me are 
 sufficient judges of them there siibjicks, 
 and you need not take the trouble to^ 
 give us your opinion." 
 
 *' Since you refer it to me," said my 
 mother, *' let the gentlemen fight their 
 own battles, and let their wives be at 
 peace. It is probable the intended 
 bride of Mr. Winterdale, whoever 
 she be, has not offended you, and it 
 would be cruel to revenge the wrongs 
 Mr. Thacker has sustained, upon her,. 
 In a place where society is so scarce, 
 you may each be glad of an agreeable 
 neiofhbour ; and if the jrentlemen do 
 not choose to join you, they may still 
 keep at a distance." 
 
 Mrs. Thacker looked highly de- 
 lighted, both with the advice and the 
 compliment 3 and after telling my 
 mother she would accompany her, if 
 I. 3 
 
222 THE MISER MARRIBD. 
 
 she should visit the bride of Mr. Win- 
 terdale, the subject was dropped. 
 
 Thus ended one of the rudest at- 
 tacks that can assail my mother, unless 
 the discovery should actually be made. 
 
 And, after observing that it seemed 
 rather to abate than confirm the sus- 
 picions of the Thacker family, thus 
 ends the long letter of 
 
 Your 
 Chabi^otte Merevai.. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 228 
 
 LETTER XXIY. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 Ravenhill Lodge, June 6, 1812^ 
 
 MY DEAR HARRIET, 
 
 I HAVE not often mentioned Mont-^ 
 gomery to you, though there has not 
 been a week in which we have not fre- 
 quently seeii hiui. If you were desi- 
 rous to know the reason, I could give ' 
 you more than one. First, then, though 
 a constant attention to me has been 
 evident in all his looks and actions, it 
 was never confirmed by words ; and 
 secondly, whenever the idea of any at- 
 tachment an his part came across my 
 mind, I felt my own folly hanging 
 about mv neck like a mill stone, I 
 will, now, however, give you the con- 
 
224 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 versation that passed between us this- 
 morning". 
 
 Eleanor was in our dressing room, 
 "writing a letter, and I was sitting 
 alone, at my needle-work, when Mont- 
 gomery entered. He drew his chair 
 close to mine, saying, with some tre- 
 pidation, " What an uncommon thing- 
 is it to find you alone ! Nobody ad- 
 mires Miss Mowbray more than I; 
 but I have often wished her at ten 
 miles distance. She is as inseparable 
 from you as your sliadow." 
 
 " In whose company," demanded I/* 
 " can I find more pleasure than in 
 Miss Mowbray's ?" 
 
 "Pardon me," replied he; *^ I own 
 I was thinking of my own gratification : 
 not your's. I have long wished for 
 this opportunity, and now I am fortu- 
 nate enough to meet with it, I know 
 not how to avail myself of it." 
 
THE 3frSER MARRIED. 2*25 
 
 He stopped. I was silent ; but I 
 felt an ag'itation which scarely allowed 
 me to breathe. After a moment's pause, 
 lie went on. 
 
 *' To be admitted to the degree of 
 iiitimacy with you, that I have been 
 favoured witli, and not to love you, is 
 impossible— at least, I have long found 
 it impossible for me. The whole hap- 
 piness of my life depends upon you ; 
 and, yet, if I might be permitted to 
 ask, with hopes of success^ I should 
 scarcely know what to solicit. My 
 only wish, hitherto, has been to make 
 myself agreeable to you -, but I should 
 certainly not stop here. My ambition 
 would be to deserve your love, if such 
 desert is in human nature ; and my 
 highest felicity would be to obtain it 
 But I have told you my situation ; my 
 father is involved in an uncertain and 
 expensive law suit; and till that be 
 1.5 
 
226 THE MISER MAKRIEB. 
 
 decided, and even unless it be decided 
 in his favour, I have nothing- to offer 
 that I could wish you to accept. I 
 can, therefore, at present, only ask for 
 your pity." 
 
 I felt totally at a loss what reply to 
 make; but ashamed of my silence, 
 I foolishly muttered something', I 
 know not what, about distress, if it 
 were real, being entitled to pity. 
 
 "You could not refuse me vour 
 compas&ion on the score of reality," 
 said Montgomery, '* if you knew what 
 I have felt, and what I feel at this 
 moment." 
 
 " It would be affectation to doubt 
 your being 'serious, said I, recovering^ 
 myself. It would be putting you to 
 the expence of protestations I should 
 not deserve. I have always thought 
 that when a man singled out a woman 
 from the rest of her sex, as the compa- 
 
THE MISER MAUmED. 227 
 
 nron of his future days, he paid her 
 the highest compliment in the power of 
 man to bestow ; unless any motives of 
 interest were his inducement. Such 
 cannot be your's ; for you know not who 
 I am. I, therefore, think myself much 
 obliged by your good opinion of me." 
 
 ** Are cold, unfeeling thanks, all you 
 have to bestow," demanded Montgo- 
 mery, in a melancholy accent? 
 
 « My gratitude is neither cold nor 
 unfeeling," replied I. 
 
 " Might I venture to hope yon could, 
 in time, be brought to feel a warmer 
 sentiment, if I should be enabled to ask 
 it ? Might I ho]3e to retain a place in 
 your remembrance till that time arrive ? 
 Or — but that I dare not hope — could^ 
 you condescend to share my fortune and 
 expectations, such as they are ?" 
 
 " Young as I am," replied I, *' and 
 gay as is my natural disposition, I have 
 
228 THE MISER MARBiEB. 
 
 .seen the folly of a life of dissipation, 
 and I have felt how unsatisfactory its 
 best enjoyments are. I am convinced 
 that happiness and peace are only to be 
 found in the heart-felt pleasm^es of a do- 
 mestic circle, and the occasional com- 
 pany of a few friends. I could contract 
 my wishes within a very moderate 
 compass." 
 
 '* Give me hopes, then," cried Mont- 
 gomery, ," that you will be mine !" 
 
 " Mr.^^iontgomery," said I, " yon 
 have acted with a degree of sincerity 
 that called for more openness on my 
 part ; but I am so circumstanced that I 
 have not dared to imitate you. My na- 
 ture abhors duplicity, and even conceal- 
 ment; but I have a confession to make 
 by which I run the risque of annihilating 
 all your sentiments in my favour." 
 
 I trembled. Montgomery rose from 
 his seat, and stood aghast. 
 
THE MISER MAlllllED. 229 
 
 ^* I own," said he, after some time, 
 " that I have wished to know some 
 particulars concerning your family, 
 and I hoped they might have follow- 
 ed the disclosure of my own : but 
 what can I have to fear ! To see you, 
 to hear you, to know you, as I have done ; 
 who could doubt you? Your very 
 thoughts are painted on your face, be- 
 fore they issue from your lips. If I did 
 not now see your own emotion, I should 
 conclude you were trifling with mine. — 
 For God's sake, put an end to my sus- 
 pense, and if there is a dreadful story, 
 
 let me hear it ! 
 
 ** You shall," said I. '' 1 did not 
 
 mean to have made the discovery so 
 soon ; and I enjoin you to keep the se- 
 cret, till you have my permission to 
 reveal it. Promise m^ this." 
 
 ** I do," replied he ; while he could 
 hardly find breath for utterance. ** We 
 
230 THE MISER 3IAIII11EI>. 
 
 are here under a feigned name. Our 
 real one is your own, Montgomery." 
 
 His face assumed the strongest ex- 
 pression of surprise and doubt, hope 
 and fear. 
 
 " I am, indeed, your relation," said 
 I ; " the daughter of Sir George Mont- 
 gomery." 
 
 He caught me in his arms, and, for 
 some moments, we were both speech- 
 less. 
 
 Disengaging myself at length, I sunk 
 down on my chair, and, pointing to that 
 he had before quitted, I exclaimed, 
 '' Oh ! if that were all !" 
 
 " What more can heaven bestow," 
 cried Montgomery ! *' You w ould not 
 have made this acknowledgment, if yoa 
 had not thouo:ht me wcrthv of it ! Tell' 
 me the rest another time > and let me 
 feast upon this ! " 
 
THE MISEH MARillED. 2SP1 
 
 I could not speak. The powers of 
 life seemed suspended ; my eyes were 
 fixed, without looking upon any object, 
 and breathing" did not seem necessary 
 to my existence : though I was perfectly 
 conscious of my situation. Montgo- 
 mery was alarmed at my appearance. 
 
 " Charlotid,'' my dear Charlotte," 
 he cried, taking my hand, " for heaven's 
 sake speak to me ! Say something, and 
 do not make me tremble for your reason, 
 if not your life." 
 
 His words and endearments produced 
 a happy effect. I burst into a violent 
 flood of tears, and, by degrees, became 
 calm. 
 
 " What more you have to tell me," 
 said Montgomery, " be it either now 
 or another time ; as you like best ; but 
 be assured I have no further interest in 
 it than as it concerns yourself. If your 
 being totally unknown was not an ob- 
 
232 THE MISEPv JMAHRTED. 
 
 stacie to my endeavouring" to make yoir 
 mine ; no misfortune yoii may have sus- 
 tained can have any v/eight. And, as 
 to guilt, I should as soon suspect the 
 purity of angels." 
 
 " I am not criminal," said I ; ** but 
 rny folly, my imprudence have gone 
 greater lengths than ydu^j^an imagine. 
 I must tell you now — if ever; for I 
 cannot go through this scene again." 
 
 ** Now be it, then," said he, ** to re- 
 lieve your mind of the burden whicli 
 oppresses it ; for, before heaven, I avow 
 my firm belief that nothing* you can 
 possibly have done can lessen my ardent 
 attachment, and my high opinion of 
 you ; founded, as they are, upon such 
 an intimate acquaintance. No, if there 
 Irad been a particle of deceit in your 
 composition, I must have seen, or sus- 
 pected it. I must see it now ; instead 
 of which your ingenuous mind is strug- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 23tJ 
 
 o'lino' with the fear of disclosinf^ some- 
 thing" you conceive to be a fault." 
 
 " I have borrowed large sums of 
 usurers," said I, with a firmness that 
 was the result of all my faculties, col- 
 lected, " to be repaid when I come 
 of age." 
 
 Montgomery was thunderstruck. 
 
 " We have lived in a manner our 
 present resources could not support; 
 and I have anticipated those to come — 
 those which, now, may never come." 
 
 " This, indeed, is v/liat I could not 
 have imagined," said he; *' but it is 
 incapable of shaking my love, or dimi- 
 nishing my esteem ; for it is the fault of 
 your mother ; not your own. Is it possi- 
 ble that liady M ontgomery should have 
 permitted her daughter, so young, and 
 living under her maternal roof, to hav e 
 recourse to such an expedient I" 
 
2M THE MISEK MAHRIED. 
 
 ** I might endeavour to exculpate 
 myself by laying the blame upon my 
 mother," replied I ; and certainly she 
 ought not to have permitted, much less 
 have proposed, so shameful a proceed- 
 ing; but I was old enough to have 
 judged for myself, and can never be 
 exonerated from the folly of having 
 adopted it. You do not know — and 
 may you never know, the consequences^ 
 of spending more than you have to 
 spend. At first it is mere thoughtless- 
 ness, and present gratification, which 
 does not imply any thing wrong in the 
 intention. By degrees, wants become 
 pressing, creditors become clamourous ; 
 and means to appease them and extri- 
 cate one's self are employed, that one 
 would have started from with horror, at 
 the beginning. It is in this, as in all ill 
 courses; the first step leads naturally 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. '2S6 
 
 to others, and each succeeding one is 
 more difficult to retrieve than the 
 former." 
 
 " What, then/* cried Montgomery, 
 " must be the praise of a beautiful young 
 woman, of nineteen, followed, as you 
 must have been, by the adoration of 
 our sex, and the envy of your own, to 
 stop short in such a career." 
 
 " Not so great as you imagine," re- 
 plied I. " That I felt uneasy under 
 these circumstances is certain, and the 
 reproaches of my own mind v/ere nei- 
 ther few nor small ; but how long we 
 might have continued our way of life ; 
 or whether I might have been brought 
 by apparent necessity to plunge deeper 
 into the gulph of error ; I know not.— = 
 The trial has happily been prevented. 
 Your father's claim to my inheritance 
 has been most salutary to me. It has 
 opened my eyes at once, and my foUy^ 
 
236 THE MISER HARRIED. 
 
 perhaps my guilt and ruin, have stared 
 me full in the face; as what had ap- 
 peared to me only taking my own before 
 it was due, might, in the end, prove 
 robbery and injustice." 
 
 " To say you have not committed an 
 error, my beloved Charlotte,'^ said 
 Montgomery, " would be to disavow 
 both your feelings and my own ; your's, 
 which suffer for it so severely ; and 
 mine, which I confess are shocked at the 
 recital. But small is the portion of it 
 that fails to your share. What young 
 girl could rise up, and counsel her mo- 
 ther to be more prudent ? What young 
 woman could refuse to participate in the 
 enjoyments which wealth affords to 
 rank and loveliness ? The rest, as you 
 justly observe, follows of course. Debts,, 
 when contracted, must be paid, and it 
 would accord with your ideas of recti- 
 tude to discharge them with money that. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED, f>r37 
 
 was undoubtedly your own, but wbich 
 the law did not, at present, place under 
 your controul. You are not to appre- 
 ciate the step you took by the unfore- 
 seen event of a disputed patrimony/' 
 
 ** You are a better apologist for me,'* 
 said I, *^ than I dare be for myself. I 
 view my folly and its consequences to- 
 gether. But they have had this effect 
 upon my mind, that, with the assistance 
 of Almighty God, whose aid I have 
 fervently implored, I never will again 
 consent to a wrong action, knowing* it 
 to be so. I will rather embrace all the 
 calamities that my own indiscretion, or 
 the ill conduct of my fellow creatures 
 may bring upon me." 
 
 " I could almost say," cried Mont- 
 gomery, ** it were better to en% and so 
 repent, than never to have deviated 
 from the right line. Slire I am that 
 you are less likely to err than before ; 
 
238 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 and that my admiration of you is re* 
 doubled by your sentiments and conduct 
 on the disclosure of this oppressive 
 secret/' 
 
 ** Your approbation is a bahn to a 
 wounded mind," said I : " I may now, 
 in time, regain my own. But I will 
 have no more confessions to make on 
 my personal account. I will tell you 
 the sums I stand engaged for, that I 
 may not have a second shock to un- 
 dergo myself, or to prepare for you. I 
 first gave a bond for five thousand 
 pounds, and afterwards for two; and 
 the interest of both is accumulating." 
 
 *' A few thousands more or less, my 
 dear Charlotte," said Montgomery, 
 ** make little difterence. Let us not 
 think of it. Allow me to rejoice in 
 the prospect before me, without revert- 
 ing to the past, I will not have my 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 239 
 
 liappiness interrupted by the considera- 
 tion of a few thousand poufids." 
 
 I turned my eyes upon him, with a 
 grateful smile, and he exclaimed, 
 '' That is worth them all'' 
 
 Eleanor then entered the room ; and, 
 as she told me afterwards, she perfectly 
 understood, by the countenance of both, 
 that a declaration of love had been 
 made on one side, and of misconduct 
 on the other. 
 
 Congratulate me, my dearest Har- 
 riet, on my having made this discovery 
 to the man whose esteem I dreaded to 
 forfeit, and that it has, happily, not 
 been productive of that effect. My 
 former conduct is not the less reprehen- 
 sible ; nor my resolves, for the future, 
 less strong; but my present feelings 
 are not to be compared v/ith those I 
 have endured for some time past. I look 
 Montgomery in the face, and say, I fear 
 
240 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 you not; I have concealed nothing 
 from you ; you can now form a just 
 estimate of me, and you regard me 
 not the less. In a word, I seem to have 
 found a protector, where I most feared 
 to meet condemnation. 
 
 Surely nobody would be guilty twice 
 that suffered like 
 
 Your 
 
 Charlotte Merevai.. 
 
THE MISER MARKXEB. 241 
 
 LETTER XXy. 
 
 TO MISS CASTLEMAIN. 
 
 WinterdaUy June 13, 1812. 
 
 You will see, my dear Harriet, by 
 the place from whence I date this, that 
 we are become inhabitants of Winter- 
 dale Hall, and you will consequently 
 suppose, that the happy knot is tied. 
 
 Mr. Winterdale returned from Lon- 
 dale early in last week ; but took no 
 notice of my mother; the necessary 
 arrangements being made through his 
 son. It was evident, however, that he 
 had made no discovery to the prejudice 
 of his intended bride. Public conjec- 
 ture began to be weary as to the lady ; 
 and some people went so far as to ima- 
 gine, that Mr, Winterdale had formed 
 the scheme in derision of the vicar; 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
■242 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 and had obliged him to publish ficti- 
 tious banns, when no marriage was in- 
 tended, that he might be laughed at for 
 his pains. 
 
 The preparations at the hallj which 
 consisted of little more than scrubbing 
 and scouring, were thought only a pre- 
 'tence, to give it an air of probability. 
 
 This opinion, reaching the ears of 
 Mr. Thacker, gave him some disturb- 
 ance; and he sent his wife and Mr. 
 Sharp to the Lodge (not daring to 
 come himself), to see if any thing could 
 be extracted from my mother, on the 
 subject. 
 
 " Pray," said Mrs. Thacker, as soon 
 as she was seated, " have you heard 
 the shocking report ?" — So, thought I, 
 all is out, then — " To be sure,'* conti- 
 nued the lady, " there is nothing that 
 tpeople vill not say — though, for my 
 part, I don't believe a word of it.'* 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 24S 
 
 "But now, my dear Miss Mow- 
 bray/* said Mr. Sharp, *' you must 
 knowj for I know you know iverj/ think 
 in the world ; and now I know you will 
 have the goodness to be so good as to 
 tell us." 
 
 " It would take up too much time/* 
 said Eleanor. 
 
 " O dear, no, not at all," said Mr. 
 Sharp : " I dearly love long stories**' 
 
 " Fm sure we shall listen to it with 
 wery great pleasure," said Mrs. 
 Thacker. 
 
 " What! to every thing in the 
 world," demanded Eleanor ! " I should 
 fatigue you with my unmeasurable 
 wisdom." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh, you know what I 
 mean," cried Mr. Sharp. 
 
 Pardon me," said Eleanor; " I have 
 not the least conception of it." 
 
 *^ Why, then," said Mrs. Thacker, 
 M 2 
 
244 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 " there's a report all about, that Mr. 
 Winterdale does not intend to be mar- 
 ried at all ; and that he is only giving 
 my gentleman the trouble to publish 
 the banns on purpose to make a fool of 
 him — Now what do you think of 
 
 " I am sorry," replied my mother, 
 *' that this is a subject on which I am 
 not allowed to express what I think." 
 
 " But you might say vhether it is 
 any body or nobody," said Mrs. 
 Thacker. ** That would be telling no 
 tales." 
 
 " If it were a matter of opinion 
 with me, as it is with you, I would tell 
 you without disguise," said my mo- 
 ther ; ^^ but you know it is a matter of 
 fact, which I have promised not to dis- 
 close." 
 
 " I can tell him one thing," said Mr. 
 Sharp; " he had better not come to go to 
 
THE MISER MARKIEB. 245 
 
 make a fool of my uncle : he may 
 chance to repent, if he does. My imcle 
 is the vicar of the parish ; and, if I 
 was him, I would complain to the 
 bishop of the county/' 
 
 " Mr. Winterdale cannot easily 
 make a fool of Mr. Thacker," said my 
 mother • <* but he might expose himself 
 to ridicule by attempting it." 
 
 ** Why so I think," said Mrs. 
 Thacker. " Every body knows Mr. 
 Thacker's abilities in the pulpit ; and 
 he might have had a better living than 
 this, if we could have found out where 
 it was to be had. We did not want 
 the means to come at it. And I vander 
 vhich vould be the vorst; for to write 
 a lie, and give it the clergyman ; or for 
 the poor man to read it, when it was 
 given him ! For my part, I think 
 there's no comparison in things." 
 
 ^' But," said my mother, " I under- 
 
246 THE MISER MARHIED. 
 
 stand the hall is in a bustle ; as if a 
 new mistress were expected." 
 
 « Why there again," rejoined Mrs. 
 Thacker ^ " that's a mery unaccountable 
 thing. To be sure, Mr. Winterdale 
 has put himself to the expence of a few 
 brushes and brooms, and has had Betty 
 Taylor to clean — but where's an}'^ new 
 servants ? There is but one woman in 
 the house ; and she can't cook and wait 
 upon a lady ! Or, suppose the lady was 
 to bring her own maid with her, its mo- 
 rally impossable for Martha to do all the 
 rest? Or, suppose she brought the 
 recMsite servants, where's the carriage ? 
 No lady can exist without a carriage! 
 For my part, I should conceive it the 
 horridest thing upon earth, to be obli- 
 gated to walk on foot — ^I don't mean 
 7io reflection upon you, my dear Mrs. 
 Merevkn that just walk, now and then, 
 to the wicarage or the church j but you 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 247 
 
 know, yourself, how shocking disagree- 
 able that po shay was, when we went 
 to the Assembly ! 
 
 " \t^ \yas, indeed," said my mother, 
 " and the post boy was still worse.'* 
 
 ** O, they're a set of abominable 
 wretches," cried Mrs. Thacker ! 
 
 " I'm sure I wonder how any body in 
 thjeir senses dare go to trust themselves 
 with sick fello:ys(s. They are frequently 
 incapaciated to keep their seat," saitj^ 
 Mr. Sharp. 
 
 ** When it is considered," said I, 
 ** tha;t tjbey hfive no other home than 
 puj^lijp hoij^qs, and no other business, 
 when at home, than to djcink, I should 
 hardly expect to find them so sober and 
 orderly as they, in genera,l, are." 
 
 " It's wery true, indeed," sa.id Mrs. 
 Thacker ; " but it's veil for us that Mr. 
 Thacker is not here ; for he would call 
 us to order ; for you know he is wery 
 
248 THE MISEK MARRJED. 
 
 mithodich, with being* so much used to 
 the pulpit — And so, as I was saying, 
 there's so little preparation at the hall, 
 that perhaps it may be all a farce at 
 last." 
 
 " Of all the men I ever saw," said 
 I, « I think Mr. Winterdale has the 
 least genius for farce." 
 
 " O, you don't know him," cried 
 Mrs. Thacker. Spite would sarve him 
 instead of genus. But, however, I 
 think, myself, there's somewhat in it ; 
 for all you ladies own you are in the 
 secret, and I cannot believe you would 
 all stand by so quietly, and see Mr. 
 Thacker bamboozled, and I think that 
 is a trick Henry Winterdale would not 
 have told you." 
 
 " You may be assured," said my mo- 
 ther, " we could not see any disrespect 
 oifered to Mr. Thacker without pain." 
 " Well, you are wery good," said 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 249 
 
 Mrs. Thacker; " I could not, myself. 
 To be sure I do snap him up a little 
 sometimes, when he will have a finger 
 in the pye ; but, for all that, I should 
 not like to see him made the laughing 
 stock of nobody else.'* 
 
 Unexperienced as I am in these ma- 
 tronly matters, I think I could have told 
 Mrs. Thacker, that one way to secure 
 the respect of other persons for her hus- 
 band would be to shew him respect her- 
 self. If she, who knew him best, af- 
 fected to look down upon him, it would 
 be natural enough for those less ac- 
 quainted with him to follow her ex- 
 ample. 
 
 A little more conversation of the 
 same kind concluded the visit. 
 
 On our part no preparations were 
 made, either for a wedding or a re- 
 moval. Our family went on in the 
 same track it had hitherto pursued; 
 M 6 
 
250 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 Provisions were laid in for the ensuing' 
 week ; orders were given, to be execut- 
 ed at a future time ; and no servant, 
 except Horton, who had been confi- 
 dante from the beginning, had any rea- 
 son to imagine we were interested in 
 the proceedings at the hall. 
 
 On Monday morning a post chaise 
 from the town, sent by Henry Win- 
 terdale himself, stopped at our door. 
 My mother and I got into it, in our 
 usual morning dresses, and drove to 
 church; and then, and not till then, 
 had our own domestics any cause for 
 suspicion that their lady was to be the 
 bride. 
 
 Mr. Thacker had been roused from 
 his bed only half an hour before, and 
 told, that he must marry Mr. Winter- 
 dale. 
 
 We found the bridegroom, attended 
 by his attorney, waiting for us in the 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 25 J 
 
 church porch, and the parson already 
 in the church, which Mr. Winterdale 
 would not enter, till necessity obliged 
 him. Mr. Foreclose, the attorney, 
 officiated as father ; not as the friend of 
 Mr. Winterdale, for he has not one in 
 the world ; but as his only acquaint^ 
 ance. 
 
 Mr. Thacker was extremely agitated 
 by the presence of his enemy. He 
 looked upon him with eyes in which 
 fear and hatred were discoverable, and,, 
 at times, his voice faltered, so that hi^ 
 words were indistinct. Mr. Winter- 
 dale regarded him with a look of cool, 
 steady defiance, and a kind of inward 
 triumph. My mother was composed 
 and collected. 
 
 My own feelings I cannot express„ 
 My view of Mr. Winterdale and Mr. 
 Thacker, as they regarded each otherg 
 inspired me with horror — two fellow 
 
252 THE MISER MARRIED, 
 
 creatures, — christians, — neighbours,. — 
 I ought to add, gentlemen, — meeting 
 with the rancour of two rival bull 
 dogs ; and, impelled by a sort of in- 
 stinctive hatred, ready to growl at, and 
 worry each other. For my mother, 
 my only sentiment at that moment, 
 was compassion. Culpable though she 
 be, and culpable in her motives for 
 this marriage ; yet I could not help 
 trembling for her, when I saw her so- 
 lemnly resign herself into the clutches 
 of such a ferocious animal. 
 
 I looked at Mr. Winterdale, and at 
 his still beautiful bride, and asked my- 
 self, what is there in him that can in- 
 duce her to give up independence, even 
 accompanied, as it ought to be, by ob- 
 scurity; for ills she knows not of, and 
 may be do%ned to suffer! — and for 
 ever! at least, so long as they both shall 
 live ! There is something so awful 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 253 
 
 in the idea of this irrevocable sentence, 
 that I should find all the love my heart 
 is capable of, which I believe is not a 
 little, necessary to support me under 
 it. 
 
 By the bye it is fortunate for us crea- 
 tures, who are generally destined to go 
 through the world in pairs, that we are 
 drawn towards each other by a stronger 
 principle than reason. Cool, dispas- 
 sionate reason would discover so many 
 faults, and foresee so many evils, that 
 we should hardly ever come together. 
 
 The ceremony ended, Mr. Winter- 
 dale put something into the Jiands of 
 Mr. Thacker. What it was, I know 
 not ; but he boasts it was the precise 
 sum exacted by law, and glories in 
 the opportunity of affronting the par- 
 son. 
 
 My mother and I drove to the Hall ; 
 she exulting in the success of her 
 
254 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 plans, I deploring their probable con- 
 sequences to both parties. Mr. Win- 
 terdale and his companion walked 
 back, as if nothing had happened, 
 only as they were there to receive us, 
 it is probable they walked a little 
 faster. Henry paid his compliments 
 of congratulation, and then set off for 
 Eleanor. Breakfast was brought in, 
 in a very creditable style, though no 
 intimation had been given to the ser- 
 vants of the coming of their new 
 lady; and Mrs. Martha contrived to 
 send us in a dinner, which did honour 
 to her skill as a purveyor and a cook. 
 
 Eleanor and I were never weary of 
 admiring this fine old mansion, and 
 the heavy gilt furniture, and magnifi- 
 cent looking sflasses it contains. The 
 most modern date their establishment 
 in the house from the raarriag'e of Mr. 
 Winterdale's father; and the others 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 256 
 
 trace their orig-in to different g-enera- 
 tions of remote antiquity : but what 
 charmed us most was our own apart- 
 ments. The view from the windows 
 is inconceivably fine ; the bedchamber 
 is spacious enough for a ball room, and 
 the drawing' and dressing rooms would 
 each contain a moderate family. Af- 
 ter the furniture had been removed by 
 Henry's direction, the rooms appeared 
 so forlorn, that when it had gone 
 through the different processes of 
 cleaning and airing, he ordered every 
 thing to be replaced, leaving it to our 
 choice to retain, or discard it, as we 
 pleased. 
 
 Though there is nothing in which 
 modern inventions have a more decided 
 advantage over ancient usages than 
 furjiiture, and the decoration of houses | 
 yet we thought time had given these 
 venerable inhabitants of VYinterdale 
 
256 THE MII&ER MARRIED. 
 
 Hall a kind of prescriptive right, we 
 did not choose to invade. Every 
 thing was whole and grand, though 
 somewhat tarnished. We kept our 
 drawing room, without making any 
 other innovation, than banishing a 
 huge marble table, to make way for our 
 piano forte ; we added a few conveni- 
 ences to our dressing room; and we 
 were content with the comfortable re- 
 fuge our thick damask curtains afford- 
 ed us, in our immense bedchamber. 
 
 My mother sent for poor Martha on 
 the day of our arrival at the Hall. She 
 appeared before her with fear and 
 trembling. After giving due commen- 
 dations to the dinner she had provided, 
 my mother told her she should still 
 keep her place as housekeeper ; but, 
 as the family was now enlarged, it 
 would be necessary to have assistance, 
 and that her own cook and housemaid 
 
THE MISER MARRII^D. 2o7 
 
 were coming, who would be under her 
 direction. The honest creature actu- 
 ally burst into tears, and quitted the 
 room, praying God to bless her mis- 
 tress. 
 
 Mendall is left behind in town, to 
 transact some business which his master 
 could not stay to finish. 
 
 On Tuesday, while the remnants of 
 our possessions remained at the Lodge, 
 under the protection of our man, 
 Montgomery coming to pay his usual 
 visit, was, by my mother's order, di- 
 rected here. Eleanor and I were alone 
 when he was annomiced. He entered 
 the room with astonishment in his 
 countenance, and seemed in doubt 
 whether he should mention the cause 
 of it. 
 
 " You may speak," said I. " Elea- 
 nor is me." 
 
258 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ^* I am told,'' said he, that your mo- 
 ther is become the mistress of this 
 house." 
 
 " It is very true," replied I, " Lady 
 Montgomery is become Lady Winter- 
 dale." 
 
 " Then the grand secret you did me 
 the honour to confide to me^ is known 
 to all the world," 
 
 *^ It is of course, known who we 
 are," answered I, " but the worst part 
 of the secret is yet known onjy to 
 yourself." 
 
 "Pardon my rudeness." cried he, 
 " I am jealous of your confidence, as 
 thjB only pledge I possess of your re- 
 gard." 
 
 " I should not have made a wanton, 
 needless confession of my errors, a 
 confession to me so painful, to a man 
 for whom I felt no regard. I conceal- 
 ed nothing from you relating to my- . 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 259 
 
 self; and I was not sorry, when the 
 conflict was past, that your disinterest- 
 ed attachment led me to the avowal, 
 before we acknowledged ourselves to 
 the rest of the world ; but I had no right 
 to reveal the intentions and prospects 
 of my mother." 
 
 "Dearest Charlotte,'' said Montg-o- 
 mery — " let me say, my dearest Char- 
 lotte — I despise myself for feeling a 
 moment's dissatisfaction at your con- 
 duct. What I know is so admirable, 
 that I ought to admire what I do not 
 comprehend." 
 
 " One thing only remains for you 
 to know," said I ; " and, as it relates 
 to my mother, it should not, according 
 to my own maxim, be told by me ; but, 
 as it cannot now frustrate her schemes ; 
 and, as it must shortly be known to 
 Mr. Winterdale ; I had rather you 
 were made acquainted with it by 
 
260 THE MISEll MARRIED. 
 
 myself, than by the uproar it must soon 
 occasion. My mother is indebted to 
 every tradesman employed about her 
 house and person ; her real motive for 
 retiring into this country, and assum- 
 ing the name of Mereval, was to elude 
 her creditors ; and she has married Mr. 
 Winterdale, without informing him of 
 these circumstances. Ask me not 
 whether I excuse or condemn such 
 proceedings. Diiferent duties forbid 
 me to do either. I can only say that 
 the last I endeavoured by every argu- 
 ment in my power to prevent.*' 
 
 ** O, Charlotte," said Montgomery, 
 ^' no duty forbids me to blame Lady 
 Winterdale ; and from my soul I do 
 it. Inattention may form a plea for 
 contracting her debts, and necessity 
 may palliate her running from them; 
 bnt to throw them upon Mr. Winter- 
 dale, unknown to himself, is a delibe- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 261 
 
 rate fraud. I now see in a stronger 
 lig-ht than ever, the guidance and ex- 
 ample by which you were led astray ; 
 and I see my charming cousin, shak- 
 ing off the fetters of maternal autho- 
 rity, when used to an ill purpose ; and 
 contrary to the laws of nature and cus- 
 tom, becoming the monitress of her 
 mother.'* 
 
 " The conduct of Lady Winterdale 
 cannot appear to you in a more hei- 
 nous light than it does to Charlotte," 
 said Eleanor; "though duty to her mo- 
 ther checks her words. She is under 
 no restraint when speaking of her 
 own, which is far less deserving of 
 reprehension." 
 
 As I found, if the conversation con- 
 tinued, I must either listen to my mo- 
 ther's condemnation or my own praise, 
 I put an end to it, by introducing 
 Eleanor to Montgomery, as another 
 
'262 ^HE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 cousin, in the same degree with myself; 
 arid while he was congratulating him- 
 self on his newly found relations, my 
 mother and Mr. Winterdale entered 
 the room. 
 
 Montgomery paid his respects to 
 her with a coldness and reserve I had 
 never seen before. She received him 
 with perfect ease and good humour, 
 and introduced him to Mr. Winter- 
 dale, who preserved a gloomy aspect, 
 and said as little as could be said on 
 the occasion. My mother did not seem 
 to notice it ; but told Montgomery 
 that now there were gentlemen in the 
 family, to make it agreeable to him, 
 she hoped he would often take his 
 dinner with us. Mr. Winterdale, in 
 return, seemed not to notice the atten- 
 tion of his lady to her visitor, and took 
 care not to add to the weight of the 
 invitation by any thing of his own. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. ^63 
 
 The rest of the week has passed on 
 in a family party, interrupted only by 
 another visit from Montgomery, who 
 sat an hour with us, without seeing 
 Mr. Winterdale. This morning, at 
 breakfast, my mother began her first 
 attack upon her husband, by desiring 
 Eleanor and myself to be in readiness 
 to accompany her to church to-mor- 
 row. 
 
 " To church !" exclaimed Mr. Win- 
 terdale, and started off his seat. 
 
 "Certainly,'' replied my mother, "I 
 have all my life been accustomed to 
 go to church." 
 
 " You did not go to church, while 
 I was at the Lodge," said Mr. Win- 
 terdale. 
 
 ^*No," replied my mother, "I gave 
 it up for the pleasure of attending 
 you." 
 
 "Surely," said Mr. Winterdale, 
 
264 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 ^'that motive ought to influence you 
 still." 
 
 " Pardon me," said my mother, *Hhe 
 case is altered. I could no more de- 
 vote my time to nursing a man who 
 was well and sound, than you would 
 choose to break your leg once in two 
 months for the sake of my services. I 
 can only assure you, that if such a 
 misfortune should happen again, I will 
 attend you with the same assiduity as 
 before." 
 
 " But to go to church," rejoined Mr. 
 Winterdale, " is what I could never 
 have supposed you would have been 
 guilty of!" 
 
 "My dear Mr. Winterdale," said 
 my mother, " I am truly concerned to 
 hear you give such an epithet to what 
 I consider as a sacred duty." 
 
 " I haye no objection to your sacred 
 duties," replied her husband ; ** but I 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. S65 
 
 ©an never suffer you to enter the church 
 of that pickpocket scoundrel Thacker." 
 
 " It would be presumption in me,*' 
 said my mother, " to enter into an 
 argument with you on the merits of 
 Mr. Thacker. You have known him 
 longer than I have, and, I dare say, 
 know him better ; but, let his character 
 be what it may, I should think his in- 
 structions from the pulpit must be good. 
 He cannot, certainly, introduce any of 
 his pickpocket notions there." 
 
 *' What signify the instructions of a 
 man whose whole conduct gives them the 
 lie ? Are they calculated to make any 
 impression on his hearers, when they 
 make none upon himself ?" 
 
 " I am not one who look so far. If a 
 revengeful man preach forgiveness of in- 
 juries, I consider myself bound to follovr 
 his precepts, rather than his example. 
 If his doctrine have not a proper influ- 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
265 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 enceupon his own life, it ought not to 
 have the less upon mine." 
 
 ^' But Thacker's behaviour has been 
 so very outrageous that it is a sin to coun- 
 tenance him, even in his own church. 
 He has exacted ty thes beyond all reason, 
 justice and precedent, and brought an 
 action against me, because I refused to 
 pay them." 
 
 " He bought the living, and wished 
 to make the most of his merchandize. 
 However, I think you were perfectly 
 right not to pay what he had no right to 
 demand." 
 
 " Yes ; but the worst of it was that I 
 was obliged to pay it at last. The Jury- 
 gave a verdict in his favour." 
 
 " That was hard, indeed. I promise 
 you that if I hear him say one word 
 about tythes, in his sermon, I will not 
 listen to it." 
 
 " Lady Winterdale, do you think I 
 
THE MfSBR MAnRII&B. 267 
 
 am to be jested out of my fixed abhor- 
 rence of that devil of a parson? I have 
 lived within five hundred yards of him 
 these twelve years ; and, in that time, 
 nobody has ever dared to speak to me 
 in his favour." 
 
 Nor do I, said her Ladyship. I think 
 him ignorant, prejudiced, and imperti- 
 nent, from my own knowledge of him^ 
 you say he is rapacious, and I do not see 
 the least reason to doubt it. I give him 
 up to you intirely. Think of him as you 
 do ; or still worse, if you please ; but, as 
 I shall certainly go to church to-morrow, 
 I depend upon hearing something from 
 him that I may profit by, when I am 
 there.'* 
 
 " And you are determined to go to 
 church," said Mr. Winterdale. 
 
 ^* I am," replied his lady. 
 
 " I am loth to quarrel with you in the 
 
 first week of our marriage," said Mr. 
 
 n2 
 
268 THE MISER MAKRTED. 
 
 Winterdale ; " or I would swear by the 
 living God you should not go." 
 
 ** Dreadful!*' exclaimed my mother. 
 " You would terrify me beyond expres- 
 sion, if you did. You cannot imagine 
 how it would shock me to have you for- 
 sworn! Besides, I love you so much 
 that I shrink from the idea of any thing, 
 which might, possibly, make me love 
 you less." 
 
 " Take care," said Mr. Winterdale. 
 " I am not accustomed to have my com- 
 mands treated in this light manner." 
 
 " Commands is such a frightful word," 
 said my mother, " that I would banish 
 it from my vocabulary. What would 
 you think of me, if I were to command 
 you to go with me to church?" 
 
 " I could scarcely be more surprized 
 than I am," replied Mr. Winterdale. 
 
 *' Some wives would do it," said my 
 mother ; " and some husbands would 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 269 
 
 take a pleasure in obliging them ; but I 
 require no such thing. I know my duty 
 better, and shall be content with going 
 myself." 
 
 " Then the devil go with you," cried 
 Mr. Winterdale, and flung out of the 
 room. 
 
 Henry had been reading, during this 
 curious dialogue, and Eleanor and I had 
 been very attentive to our needlework. 
 When Mr. Winterdale was gone, we 
 looked at one another, and then, with 
 some apprehension, at my mother. 
 
 " My dear Madam," said Eleanor, 
 ** do not provoke Mr. Winterdale. He 
 has never been used to contradiction, 
 and you do not know the consequence." 
 
 " Go, go," replied she; " you are a 
 little novice. Every one ought to bear 
 contradiction. Do not I bear it ? Either 
 he or I must be master; and do not yoa 
 think it had better be I, who will allow 
 
him to do as he pleases, than he, who 
 ivould not suffer me to have a will of my 
 own? If I gave up so reasonable a thing 
 as going to church, every thing else 
 must follow; and I must be his slave, as 
 well as his wife." 
 
 When my mother had left the room, 
 ** Eleanor,'* said I, " I need not havie 
 pitied my mother for having given Mr* 
 Winterdale a power over her : she seems 
 qualified to keep it in her own hands." 
 
 <^ A pretty school this for young ladies,'* 
 said Henry. " You will learn how to 
 behave when you are wives." 
 
 *^ I am afraid the lessons will be 
 thrown away upon us," said £leanor ; 
 " for Charlotte and I have determined 
 not to marry, unless we love our hus- 
 bands; and sm'ely if her Ladyship loved 
 Mr. Winterdale, she could not exasper- 
 «ite him, and be unmoved herself." 
 
 " That circumstance is most porten- 
 
THE MISER MAKRISB, 271 
 
 loos for ray father," said Henry. If he 
 can provoke Lady Winterdale, he may 
 hope for some advantage in his turn : if 
 •he keep her temper, I tremble for him. 
 He has not had a fair trial yet, however ; 
 and I think, with you, that nothing but 
 indifference can carry her through it.'* 
 
 At dinner my mother treated Mr. 
 Winterdale with unaffected sweetness 
 and good humour. His surly looks gave 
 way, by degrees, to his common aspect, 
 which is never very far removed from 
 them, and he won his rubber at whist, 
 in the evening, with his usual exul- 
 tation. 
 
 I have written a letter of unmerciful 
 length ; but, if you find it too fatiguing, 
 you may serve it as the clergy of old did 
 their sermons — ^take one half now, and 
 reserve the other to a further opportunity. 
 Now I am talking of that, I actually 
 knew a clergyman who preached six 
 
272 THE MISER MARRIEl). 
 
 and twenty sermons on the attributes of 
 God. Like the ancient task at the game 
 of forfeits, where you " love your love 
 with an A because he is Amiable, and you 
 hate him because he is Avaricious, and he 
 took you to the sign of the Angel, and 
 treated you with Apricots," he conduct- 
 ed his Maker through the alphabet; In 
 his first sermon he undertook to prove, 
 what no madman was ever mad enough 
 to doubt, that God was Almighty ; in the 
 second, that he was Benevolent; in the 
 third, Charitable ; in the fourth, Divine, 
 and so on. When he came to X, he 
 was at a stand ; and frankly owned to 
 his congregation that there was no word 
 in the English language beginning with 
 that letter. "Rather than disappoint 
 them, however, he told them he would 
 give them the stmod, instead of the let- 
 ter, and would that day prove to them 
 that God was Extraordinary. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 273 
 
 You may smile at this; but, I assure 
 you, so did not the clergyman. It is an 
 absolute fact; and he preached his ser- 
 mons with true christian piety ; though, 
 perhaps, not without some admiration of 
 his own ingenuity. 
 
 For fear I should add to the length of 
 my letter by something else which I 
 had no intention to- say, I will hasten to 
 tell you that I am, in my own name and 
 person, 
 
 Your*s, most tmly, 
 
 Charlotte Montgomery. 
 
 Nr> 
 
274 THE MISER MARRIED, 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 TO MR. WII.LIAM MENDALI.. 
 
 Winterdale, June 14, 181^. 
 BEiiB MUSTER MENDALL, 
 
 This is to letl you to kno that last 
 Mundy as ever was, my master got up 
 as yousal ; and drest himself as yousal, 
 and Muster Fourcloaths calFd afore 
 brecksfust, as you kno he do sumetimes, 
 and they went out to gather, and no - 
 body thot nothin about it. And presently 
 Hafe corns runing, and out o wind, and 
 he sed says he, my masters gooin to be 
 
 marrid, and hees gon to church, now, 
 and theres a sheas gon to Mrs. Merry- 
 veals, and now the cats out o the bag ; 
 but how the devle bur comd to be Mary 
 Mundgumery, I be not wurthy to kno. 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 275 
 
 Gad! I dident stay a minnit. I laid my 
 cacks a rising, and put the fyer in the 
 huven, and I bids Rafe grind the KofFe, 
 and cut me a plait o ham, and fatch me 
 sum hegs, and lay the cloth, and hacks 
 no queshtons. And wen master comb 
 back, he just sed your ladys a comming, 
 and that was hall. And so they comd 
 to brecksfust, and Miss Mowbry and 
 hall ; and I thoght to miself, thinks I, 
 wot shal I doo ? Howsever I diddent 
 let the grass grow under my fit, and I 
 sent um in ahansomish dinner considur- 
 ing. And so in the arternoon Madam 
 sent for me up stares, and I was fritened 
 out o miverry witts,thats the truth. But 
 I must tel you that shes a lady by rite 
 and title, and we be all to call hur your 
 Ladyship, only I be a litel aukardish at 
 it at furst. But, as I was a telling on 
 you, wen I got into the drawn room 
 
^76 THE MISER MARRIEB. 
 
 I downrite quacked for fere ; and says 
 my Lady says she, Misis Stable, says 
 she, you sent us in a verry nise dinner, 
 and you shoU be my house skipper; but 
 you can't possible do all the wurk your- 
 self, now, and you shall have my cuck 
 and housmade under you, and He speke 
 to your master to raise your wage. 
 
 God in heven bles you, my Lady 
 says I, He do the best as ever lys in my 
 power to sarve your Ladyship, by nite 
 or by day, says I : and I was reddy to 
 jump out a my skin for joy; but I don't 
 kno whatever it was culd ale me, I was 
 sich a fool that I bostid owt a crying, 
 and was fost to leve the rum. And so 
 I sits at the hed of the tabel, in my hone 
 rum, and every boddy cals me Misis 
 Stable ; only Rafe pops out Martha now 
 and tan ; but I shall larn him better 
 manners in time ; but my master and 
 my Lady and the gentlefokes call me 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 277 
 
 Stable; but my dear Muster Mendall, 
 you may call me Martha, as yousall. 
 
 To be shure, Madam — God turgive 
 me, my Lady, I mean — is a good swete 
 lady, and I shal lov hur the longest day 
 I has to live; but she has bin to church 
 to day, nolus volus, wether my master 
 wold or no, and, moor nor that, she 
 broght Muster Sharp and Madam 
 Thaker hom with her to dinner. I 
 wunder how she darst. Kobbut said 
 the Squir lucked plagy sulky; but we 
 sarvants must here and see and say 
 nothin ; tho I must nedes say it was ray- 
 ther howdashus on her; butthats nyther 
 hear nor thear. 
 
 As for Rafe hes quit and clear beside 
 himself. His allis arter Jenney house 
 made, and ci^ys her up for a booty. For 
 my part, I thinks hurs no grate things; 
 for all he macks sich a fuss with her ; 
 nothin but a letel red and wite, thats 
 
278 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 hall; but he must have his fling. In 
 my mind eyther Robbut or Tommus is 
 as fur afore hur as lite from dark. But, 
 dere Muster Mendali, I does not think 
 none on um at all compairable to you, 
 wich is all at present from 
 
 Yours, to comend, 
 
 Martha Stabxe« 
 
THE MISER MARKIEP, 279 
 
 LETTER XXVII, 
 
 TO MH. WrLLYAM MENDII.I.. 
 
 Winterdell, June 14, 1812, 
 
 HOKORIT CUR, 
 
 This corns with mi humbel sarvice, 
 hopping to find yo in good yelth, as 
 thro marcy I be at this prison, an too 
 lett yo to no as mastr be morrid, an as 
 I was the first as fun it out; anMaddum 
 
280 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 Merry wool tornd out to be Mary Mund- 
 g-umberry at last : moor sham for hur I 
 sy ; for I ood nevr care hoo nod as I was 
 Ralph Russetting. But hur be a lady 
 o kwollity, for all hur havbin ashamed ^ 
 hur nam, an hur be to be called my 
 lady ; but I can hoidly put my mowth 
 e form to sy my lady this, an my lady 
 that, and my lady toother ; but I sup 
 hose it wull com nay chural ater a 
 wile. 
 
 Betwen yo an nie an the post, I 
 thinks Maddam be a tarter, an Mastr 
 hav met ooth his niach, an uf they can 
 monitch him, thy has bat one moor to 
 fere, an that be the very devl himself. 
 Hur hav had the imporance to goo to 
 chorch to dy, in spite o his tith, an hur 
 hav brct whom Mister Sharp an Mad- 
 dam Tacker to dinner, an the Mastre 
 lucks nashonly out o sorts, an I thinks 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 281 
 
 hur wool each it wan thy be gon. Hur 
 donna no the nater on him so wel as yo 
 an me dun, an ma hap hur ma find hur 
 a got the rung sow by the here; but I 
 bleev as thees kwollity ma doo things as 
 common wimen darnt, an uf hur a thees 
 tricks, hur hav moor. 
 
 As for me, I be as happi as the dy be 
 long ; and Mather hav got purfarmunt, 
 an cuts rost bif, an a nothin to doo but 
 luck ater the mayds, an ge out shugger 
 an plums, an a got to be Missis Stable. 
 I thinks, uf thy com to that, as I shud 
 be Mister Stable, seein as how I lucks 
 ater the hossis ; but thy cawn me Ralph, 
 as oosal. And Jinny the hous maid be 
 a mortal pra>ty wench, yo no, an mortal 
 kind harted, au hur do run soo e ray ) ed 
 that somtims Iharcily do no a shool from 
 a curry com. Cuck lucks plagy sowr 
 about it, an do hordly gee me saut to 
 
2S2 THE MISEK HARRIET. 
 
 mi porritch; but I donna care for 
 shee. 
 
 Mastr be ten times bettr to plese then 
 he wos afore ; for he do beggin to find 
 he binnot allis to hav his one wy, no 
 moor nor the rest o monkind, and I do 
 fettle him wthout much grumbhn. We 
 kip a rare good howse, an it wul but 
 hold ; an Robud an Tomus be booth 
 gain men, and wul gee won a lift at a 
 pinch. As to the ladys maydes, thy 
 carrin thur yeds abov a boddy the nor- 
 most bite as evr wos, and torn up thar 
 nosis as uf a boddy wanna worthy to 
 whip their shoos : but wot care I ! let 
 wm kip thur seckund hondit came bricks, 
 an jack or nots, and give me Jinney, in 
 a good holesum oolen petty cot ; for I 
 donna like sich varmont. The too yung 
 misis be bavin kinder be hafe, an wen 
 thy has onny thin to sy to a boddy, God 
 
THS MISER MAKBIED, 283 
 
 bles thar pratty fasis, thy smile, an luck 
 so goodhumered, that I ood run forty 
 myle to sarv um. So no moor at prison 
 from yurs till jeth, 
 
 Ralph Russetting^ 
 
284 THE MISER MAKRIED, 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 TO MR. WILLIAM MENDALL. 
 
 Winterdale, June 14, 1812. 
 
 I WAS married last Monday; but, 
 instead of wishing me joy, I desire you 
 will help me to curse the fool that ever 
 expected happiness with a woman. 
 
 With regard to money matlers, I am 
 not much mistaken. It is true 1 keep 
 an extravagant table; I expected it, 
 and I am paid for it. Bat my wife ! 
 The i;>oderate, frugal, retired, comply- 
 ing Mrs. Mereval, alias Lady Montofo- 
 mery, alias Madam Deviless, turns out 
 to be the very reverse of all she pre- 
 
THE MISER MARRIED. 285 
 
 tended to be ! Having fastened me in 
 her claws, she shews her cloven foot, 
 already. 
 
 The very day after our marriage, she 
 introduced to me a tall, strapping, dash- 
 ing, young fellow of an officer, a rela- 
 tion of her former husband. I had 
 heard, before, of his being at the Lodge, 
 after one of the girls, no doubt. I gave 
 him a very cool reception : if that does 
 not do, I shall affront him ; for I will 
 have no red coats here. 
 
 Yesterday she had not only the assur- 
 ance to tell me to my face that she would 
 go to church, but the impudence to per- 
 sist in it, contrary to my positive com- 
 mands, and to laugh at them and me. 
 
 To-day she has done worse. She 
 has been to church, and has brought 
 back that scoundrel Thacker's wife and 
 nephew, and placed them at my own ta- 
 ble, in defiance of me. I gave them several 
 
286 THB MISER MARRIED. 
 
 pills at dinner, which, let them digest 
 as they may. The she-dog had a mind 
 to have worried me, once ; but my pre- 
 cious help-mate did not seem to like 
 that, and shewed her teeth, in return. 
 I could curse them and the whole sex 
 together , but, irritated as I am, and 
 most justly, I will not curse upon paper, 
 which might upbraid me when my pas- 
 sion was over. Not that I will ever 
 forgive her ! Lady Winterdale, I mean, 
 (I hate to call her by the name.) As 
 for Madam Fish, she is beneath my 
 notice. 
 
 I write this while they are cackling 
 in the drawing room. As soon as they 
 march, I shall endeavour to bring her 
 Ladyship to a sense of her duty ; by fair 
 means, if I can; and, if these fail, I 
 shall let her know who is master. 
 
 Have I been sole director of my own 
 actions, and of every person and thing 
 
THB MIS£R MARRIED. 287 
 
 around me, for five and twenty years ; 
 to be bullied, and laughed at by a wo- 
 man ! Have I been sole cock of my own 
 dunghill, and no other cock has dared 
 to approach it, but has retreated with 
 drooping wings; to be flown at, and 
 pecked, by my own hen! and next, 
 perhaps, by her chickens, mild and 
 modest as they look, for I will never 
 trust mildness and modesty more ! 
 
 I intended Charlotte for Henry, when 
 the law-suit should be decided in her 
 favour, as I mentioned to you before ; 
 but, knowing women to be such ser- 
 pents, I can hardly find in my heart to 
 turn him over to one. However, as 
 there is no way of providing an heir to 
 the estate, but marriage, he must sub- 
 mit to it, as his ancestors did before 
 him. The girl may be as well as the 
 rest, and her fortime will make him 
 some amends. 
 
288 THE MISER MARRIED. 
 
 You will not fail to brin^ with you 
 an abstract of every document relating 
 to the title of the Montgomery estate. 
 Your presence will be some alleviation 
 of the miseries of 
 
 John Winterdale. 
 
 END OF FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 J. G. Barnard, Printer, Skinner-street, London. 
 
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