^^>>^4«^ vy^/'^^^ Vv^^w LIBRAR^Y OF THE UNMVLRSITY or ILLINOIS xeas *- /0-^T,6^' L/^^S^ > ■MMkaMi THE MAN OF SORROW. Printed by J. D. Dewick, 46 Barbican. THE MAN OF SORROW. A NOVEL, IN THREE VOLUMES. wwmmmf a wm smMa msm BY ALFRED ALLENDALE, esq. " He was a MAN OF SORROW, and acqujinte 1 with Gjief." VOL. I. LONDON: TRINTED FOR SAMUEL TIPPER^ LEADENHALL-STREET. 1808. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/manofsorrownovel01hook V ! DEDICATION. TO THE PRETTIEST GJRL IN ENGLAND, MY DEAR GIRL, It is my misfcrtune not to be under obligations to any earthly being ; no king in his bounty ever gave me a pension, no i^inister in his wisdom a place. Doctor Johnson says, that gratitude is " a duty to benefactors, and a desire to return benefits,'^ now having no benefac- tor, I own no duty, and never having re- ceived a benefit, I see not how I can re- turn one. Thus then it is, my sweet girl, that to you I dedicate the juvenile production of il DEDICATION. a maiden muse, and this I do, without knowing who you are, where you live, or what your name. The greatest lawyers, statesmen, or divines, claim our attention ; but what are they all to such a being as you, what is a lawyer to a beautiful lavs giver .^ what the duties a statesman can impose, to the duties a girl can command, or what are the preach- ings of a divine, compared with the looks of 2L divinity } — nothing. If then I say that I have spent the sweet- est hours of a very short life, " among the lasses," to whom should I inscribe my book, but to one of those from whom 1 have received the purest delight, and the truest pleasure? /am convinced — and as I have a taste for beauty, I shall lay my book at the feet of the fairest of the fair — aye I will — let her be where she may— I think 2 DEDICATION. ill I know where she is — but no matter — set- tle that business among yourselves — recol- lect there can be but one such — and to the PRETTIEST GIRL IN ENGLAND do I dedi- cate *' THE MAN OF SORROW^* Accept it, therefore, sweet heart, and if you like it, recommend it to those you love, among which number, if you see it possible, pray reckon him In whom you will always find An humble slave, A fearless champion, and A > warm admirer, Alfred Allendale. r-i THE MAN OF SORROW. CHAPTER I. It was on one of those evenings rarlv in September, when the setting sun gives the most glowing tints to the horizon, and the curling smoke, rising among the varie- gated foliage, tells where the hospitable board is spread to cherish the hardy sons of labour, after their day's fatigue; dip, vapours were rising from the meadows in the vale, and the moon had just acquired streno'th enouo-h to throw a silvcrv liaht over that part of the landscape which was shaded from the west, when EdwardMns- VOL. I. B * 2 THE MAX OF SORROW, grave first saw the beautiful Harriet Vin- cent, as she entered the gate, that opened from her mother's garden, to the road. She was simply drest in white ; a straw hat, tied under her chin, with a pink rib- band, was intended to confine her flow- ing hair ; but the silken chains of love scorning themselves to be enslaved wan- toned over her snowy neck, and sported on her bosom like the evening dew upon the lillv. Edward was on horseback at his father's door, waiting for admittance. Harriet turned her smiling countenance towards him, but their eyes meeting, she passed on as if without observing him, not a word nor a look did they exchange, no, not the simple sparkling of a maiden's eye jn hei\ nor the bolder look of male imper- tinence in him^ had l-aid the first founda- tion of acquaintance between them ; and , yet there was a certain sometliing in her manner, her countenance, and form, that struck him forcibly, and his heart told him THE MAN OF SORROW. D they must be better known to each other. Who is that young lady? said he to his servant, as he leci in his horse towards the stable (at the same moment throwing the bridle over the animal's neck.l '' IVIiss Vincent, sir,*' replied the man, •' who lives next door." Nexl doo7\ murmured Edward, in a sort of half dissatisfied tone, as if re- proaching himself for having been so lonsr the near neidibour of such a ciil without having before particularly ob- served her. She is an angel ! was his exclamation ; and as his lips pronounced the final svUable, his hand turned the lock of the garden door; he entered the house; Miss Vincent was yet before him ; he pro- ceeded to the parlour, but still he could not get rid of Miss Vincent. His father, good man I was sitting in a walnut-tree arm-chair, at the first fire he had kindled for the season, and by the glimmering of the coals Edward per- B 2 Af THE MAN OF SORROW. ceived he had been weeping ; they were the tears of recollection ; he was a wid- ower; for thirty years he ^oG? been a hus- band ; where was now the partner of his pleasures and his griefs, his friend, his comforter ? where was the form he had delighted to gaze upon, where the bosom that supported him when ill, the hand that ministered to him while in sickness, the voice that soothed him in adversity ? He could never feel their influence more ; that hand was cold which he had loved to press, that voice was mute which he had loved to hear, that animated form was now a corpse, cold and lifeless; stretched in her coffin, the once angelic Louisa now was hidden from his sight for ever ; worlds could not exact one look — empires, one word. The god who had inspired her with life, had in his judgment taken her to his bosom, and as she lived an angel upon EARTH, so had she risen to be one in HLAVE.V. Edward saw his father's countenance, THE MAN OF SORROW. 5 he saw the big tear standing in his eye, he did not seem to notice it, but it would have its way, and it rolled down a furrow in the old man's cheek, a wel- come guest to ease his grief. " Well, Edward," said he, in a voice of sorrow rather than of anger, " you are late from town this evening." '* I was delaved bevond my time," replied Edward; " nothing but business would have kept me from you so long, Sir.-' Now whether our voung: he/o should be taxed with a want of sensibility, or 2l siiperabundance o^ \t^ it is hard to de- termine, certain however it is, that since his accidental sio;ht of Miss Vin- cent, she had dwelt so strongly upon his imagination, that he could find no thought for any other subject ; and so natural is it for young men to communi- cate their sentiments, that Edwards heart beat for an opportunity to talk to bis father about the fascinatincr ^irl, and CD ' b3 9 THE MAN OF SORROW. yet he wished to introduce the subject as if accidentally, because to raise a sus- picion of the truth in his parent's mind was what he least of all desired. The servant had brought in the tea equipage, and Edward's soul fluttered with every second that expired, till at length taking the poker in his right hand, and striking at a large coal placed on the sunimit of the grate, he commenced the wished-for topic, giving at every word he uttered a violent con* Hussion to the coal, so as to divide the attention of his father between his ques- tion and the fire-place. " Pray, sir, did you ever see Miss Vincent ?'' said he at last, {and as he finished the enquiry the coal fell to pieces.) ** Never,'' replied his father, ** never, but you are spoiling the fire, give me the poker.'* So thus this ruse c!e s-uerre of Edward succeeded completely ; he had asked his THE MAN OF SORROW. 7 question, and hfid covered the attack so well that the answer had been returned exactly as he wished. The conversation turned and lasted half an hour ; to Edward they were the longest thirty minutes of his life ; they did pass however, and at their expiration he stole out to the lawn at the back of the house which overlooked Miss Vin- cents windows. Natural enough, he had seen a beau- tiful girl orce and he wished to see her agaiji. — no, not so, he knew there was hardly any chance of beholding her at so late an hour, it was not the expectation of an interview that led him to the lawn; it was a' sort of sensation which my reader can define, a sort of desire to gaze upon the spot where she dwelt, to look upon the cottage she had orna- mented, the woodbines she had planted. He stole softly down the side of the shrubbery next their garden, and as the evening breeze blew the fresh odour of B 4 8 THE MAN OF SORROW. the climatis and honeysuckles from their arbours, he felt his heart palpitate, and his cheek flush with something like hope, a httl^ resembhng fear, and not very unhke sorrow ; he looked over the pales between the ground, he could see the walks, the grass, the summer-house where she had so often sat unnoticed by him. and he murmured loudly at his own blindness in never having been attracted by her before. He was returning to the house, when .he saw a light in one of the casements of the Cottage : the sinking mariner when he catches a view of land could not have felt a pleasanter sensation; the light was borne by Harriet ; there she was, imconscious of observation; he saw her plainly, it was her sleeping room he could pry into, he could behold the very couch her limbs so often had pressed, the pillow she had told her sor- rows to, but the conch he admired was only a plain common tent-bedstead, THE MA:>f OF SORROW. 9 whose dome covered the sweetest girl he had ever seen. Ye envied canopies of royal state 1 what are the naonarchs ye wave over when coaipared with her we love! yield up your crimson fopperies and own your- selves all vanquished by the plain white curtain, that kept the morning light from Harriet Vincent's brighter eyes ! She drew from her bosom a letter : Edward's heart palpitated ; a lover's epistle perhaps, girls seldom correspond but when Cupid is their writing master ; a chill thrilled through his veins, he wished to draw her attention from the paper, but it was sacrilege to disturb Miss Vincent, something like the fear of doing wrong stopped him, and he re- mained silent. She read the letter, twice, and as she closed it a tear fell from her eves, she threw it down, and then fell into a reverie — lean- ing her pretty peach bloom cheek upon her left hand, with the fingers of her right she B 5 10 XHE MAN OF SORRO^V. twisted and untwisted a thousand times the curls that flowed upon her forehead; Ed- ward could resist no longer, he coughed — she stirred not — again — she remained un- moved, the third noise roused her — she started up as if she recollected something, suddenly approached the casement, closed it, and drew the curtain. Kdward felt it a tacit reproach for in- truding, and dissatisfied with himself, walk- ed away. Now gentle reader, all this occurred, as it naturally might, in a little village not far from London, it shall be nameless, and for that caution there are more reasons than one; suffice it therefore to say, it zi;as a vil- lage whither Mr. Musgrave and his only son had retired on the deatli of Mrs. Musgrave, who was, in truth, a woman of superior genius, intelligent in her conversation, fas- cinating in her manners, and heavenly in her disposition. She was buried in a church-yard in Berk- shire. No marble monument to tell her THE MAN OF SORROW. 11 worth , no sculptor's art to celebrate her actions ; her soul was with her God, and the remembrance of her earthly virtues dwelt in the hearts of ail who ever knew her. To educate and make her son the man he should be, had always been her study, aiid as the voun^ tree that 2:ro\vs in the valley did she train her Edward the way she thought it fit that he should go ; in return for all this care and assiduity, Ed- ward adored her ; never was a son so de- voted to a parent; her death was a heavy blow to him, and Harriet Vincent was the first object that seemed to attract his atten* tion from his mother's grave. He never lost the recollection of that awful scene. The sable hearse, the draw- ing of the cords that lowered her to earth, the rattling dust thrown in upon her coffin, all were fresh upon his mind ; hor counte- nance was before him in his dreams, her figure with him wherever he went, every object he saw reminded him of his mother, b6 12 THE MAN OF SORROW. •and nothing divided his thoughts till he saw this lovely girl. He saw her modesty, (and in a young woman where is its equivalent?) and know- ing even little of her as he did, he fancied he saw in her a being such as his mother must have been when his father first beheld her; he cherished the idea; his sorrows turned to hope : he longed for a female he could confide in. There is a charm in woman that soothes our cares and con- quers our woes ; such a charm to drown his melancholy, or at least to share it, Edward sought, and resolved to become acquainted with Harriet. Poor Musgrave ! misfortune has stamped you for her own ; you are marked by fate for a " Man of Sorrow." , 'From the evening on vvhich he first saw this Venus of the village, little except her- self occupied his mind; his habits, his manners were changed ; town had no lon- ger attractions for him ; Bond -Street was a desert, Pall-Mall a wilderness, the loun- THE Man of sorjslow. 13 ges were insipid, the pretty pastry cooks at Spring Gardens had no longer any charms, and the conversation of his acquaintance was the most tiresome thing upon earth. To pass and repass before Harriet's window fifty times a day ; to write sonnets in her praise ; to listen to her harp and re- peat the airs she sung ; to sit and think of her, and to watch her in her walks with her mother ; these were the employments that filled up his time, and reduced the scene of his actions to the boundaries of his father^s house. On the Sunday following his first ren- contre, he heard a piece of news which gave him no little pleasure, as it promised to bring about circumstances which he anxiously desired, and which could not be effected in a better way. The Earl of Rosemore, a well known statesman, honoured their little village with his residence ; his fashionable <"ount- ess lived there too ; of the nobleman's character we shall speak hereafter ; it is 14 THE MAN OF SORUOTT. only necessary here to observe, that hla daughter, Lady Fanny, was on the Friday following to be united to the young Lord Belmont, and a grand fete was to celebrate the event. The Musgraves were invited; so were the Vincents; here was the wished-for op- portunity ; here was the introduction he had sought so long, and so ardently de- sired ; to sit, to speak, to be with her ; it was an extacy 1 but when he recollected that even this happiness would be only the commencement of a long continued inter* course between the families, his heart beat to the thought, and the flush of triumph warmed his cheek. The Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday came ; the evening arrived ; the next was to be the day — i^'riday. His happiness was at hand, and he threw himself upon his b« d, and fancied conversations that woulu take place -between Harriet aud himself. Thus was he castle-building at a most THE MAN OF SORROW. 16 agreeable rate, when the rattling of car- riage wheels announced an arrival ; he ran to the window ; an elegant travelling chariot drew up to the Vincents' door ; a young man jumped from it, with a bear skin pelisse hanging on his right arm, and a brace of pistols in his left hand; he ran to the mother and daughter who were al- ready on the lawn to receive him, and having saluted them in the most cordial manner, exclaimed : '• Well, ladies, you'll observe that I am punctual to the hour, though that little mischievous devil Harriet betted me six pair of gloves I should not come at all ; you'll own, miss, I have won my wager/* Edward shuddered ; here was an expla- nation. This was the lover he dreaded; this accounted for the letter he had seen ; for the tears that, he had witnessed, and for the agitations he had observed. His very soul w^as wounded ; he beheld a young man, evidently his superior in for- tune and rank, cordially received ; noticed i$ ' THE MAN OF SORROW. the manner in which he addressed the daiicrhter, and observed the warmth with which he was accosted by the mother; he heard the perfect freedom with which he talked nonsense ; saw the maniere with which he twisted up the fur of his traveling cloak, and the style in which he played with his pistols; ail the tonish nonchalance which was so conspicuous in his manner served to convince Edward that he was the intended husband o{W^\%^ Vincent, and so satisfied was he of the fact, that here- tired to rest in a complete state of dissa- tisfaction* THE MAN OF SORROW. tY CPIAP. II. Ci '.* > Those who are acquainted with the youthful mind, must know how sanguine young people are apt to be, and how un- willing they are to believe what they wish .riipt to be true. Poor Edward Musgrave's .sorrows began early, and in the first in- stance; for even in his choice of a friend, which he had in his mind selected Miss Vincent to be, he found himself an- ticipated. We know very well what friendships between the opposite sexes are, and how far they may be carried ; and it savours a little of the romantic in Mr. Edward, to fancy that he could stop at friendship with Miss Harriet Vincent ; she was not the sort of girl to be acquainted with without loving; her beauty was exquisite, and her 18 THE MAN OF SORROW. manners accomplished to the highest de- gree ; and yet she was without one particle of that general appendage to modern misses — affectation. Edward had in view, at first, only the acquisition of a charming companion ; this calm Platonic idea however gave place to a chcin of others much more laudable in a young man as well as more natural — he fe!t he must adore her ; and therefore when he saw Mr. Savage, the gentleman newly ar- rived, so very familiar, he felt a sort of sen- sation very like hatred towards him, which sensation encreascd in the course of the night to utter detestation, so that when be rose in the morning and was proceeding down stairs to breakfast, the seeing Mr. Savage walking round Mrs. Vincent'sshrub- berv, with Harriet in close conversation, pressing her hand ardently to his breast, and actingthe lover very violently, did not at all tend to put Mr. Edward Musgrave either into good spirits or good humour. IJc felt but little pleasure in recollecting THE MAN OF SORROW. 19 that this was to be the day of his introd ac- tion to Harriet, a rival had already gained her heart, and nothing was left for him but sorrow and disappointment. The hour at length arrived when they were expected at Lord Rosemore's ; the carriage which the preceding evening had imported the beau into the village, now w^aited to convey the party to the Lodge — Edward watched it — the trio entered it — ■ he saw it drive off — his eyes hung on the rattling w^heels, for all he admired in the world was borne away upon them. He received his father's summons to at- tend him with a mixture of pleasure and pain, he felt how charming it would be to live an evening in Harriet's society, but then he dreaded seeing her smiles lavished on his rival, w^hile perhaps one kind look, that would exalt him to happiness, would be denied him. With these contending thoughts he took his father's arm, and pro- ceeded to the scene of festivity. Music, lights, and laughter's shouts, an- 50 THE MAN OF SORROW. nounced the party met ; they were recei- ved on the portico by two servants, who usliered them into the Egyptian saloon, in which six thousand pounds had been spent upon crocodiles, sphinxes, camels, and mummies — and to say truth, any thing more u^lv or more 2fawdv was never seen. This was the first party our hero had en- tered since the death of his mother, and the continued blaze of light burst upon his eyes with such lustre, that he could not find JHarriet any where among the crowd of belles. They passed from the Egyptian saloon to a room hung with sky blue sattin, the fur- niture being entirely silver, and it was in a small apartment beyond, fitted up with pink, that Lady Rosemore received her guests. Her ladyship was dressed superbly, and looked prodigious; a water barrel in the same paraphernalia would have possessed more symmetry, and the affectation of pomp, which she assumed on her lord's accession THE MAX OF SORROW. 2 I to an office high in the government, made her ladyship the ridicule^ as well as the con- tempt of the world. Distinction, in a modern party, is what the guests neither expect nor desire. On the sopha sat a duchess in chat with an attorney ; while bis high flown sister was sharing another with an officer in the guards, who without more courage than conversa- tion, had entered the service because the regimentals were becoming to his pretty face. The Marquis of Avondale, with an ex- tra sized star spread over his coat, was flirt- ing in a corner with a young married wo- man, who by the sleepy affectation of her manner, did not appear to object to it, while her little husband was parading about the room with a fat Irishwoman, like d monkey with a dancing bear. Here was a fellow who had got noticed by his scurrility, damning his coachman for breaking one of the pannels of his carriage^ and a blustering black-leg, presuming on a 22 THE MAN OF SORROYf. run of luck, was talking politics with a peer, while if his fortune frowned, even their vails would not be safe from his clutches ia his servants pockets. Here were greasy stock-brokers — old ci- tizens, and new peers — knights of the last creation, and gentlemen of no creation at all — some men famous for joking — others known as good singers ; some who had raised themselves into notice by jumping ; one or two who had gained celebrity by shooting their friends in duels, and two or three, who, after having cheated their cre- ditors, debauched their neighbours' wives, and swindled their tradesmen, were re- ceived with delis^ht because they were really very '' pleasant creatures/' Equahty in nations is a system incompa- tible ; and yet those whose interest it chief- ly is to keep up distinctions appear most ardently to wish a revolution in the customs of society, by seeking companions where they should choose servants; and by pa- tronizing those, whose actions deserve the THE MAN OF SORROW. St5 whipping post or the gallows, rather than the countenance and approbation of exalt- ed characters. Savage, the lover of Harriet Vincent, was a pet of Lady Rosemore^s ; his non- sense suited her capacity, and his servile obedience to her commands or those of any ether antiquated piece of quality, delighted her, while it subjected him to the contempt of all ranks of society. As the Musgraves passed he enquired of the hostess who they were ? — She re- plied to the question by half shutting her eyes and shrugging up her shoulders, thereby indicating, a-ia-mode, a sorry opin- ion of them, whispering at the same time that they were some people her dear queer lord had invited God knew why — for that for her part they were not on her hst, and she believed they were nobodies. Her ladyship should have been more careful in her denunciations agaiust re- spectability — she had not the mortifica- tion _of being so uncelebrated ; her great 2 24 THE MAN OF SORROW. misfortune was, that every body did know her ; and she who talked so vaunt- ingly of NOBODIES, had but a few years before been numbered amon 2: the vilest of the vile — the mighty Lady Rosemore had been but no matter, she was, Lady Rosemore ! The Musgraves squeezed through the suit of rooms, till the old gentleman find- ing some acquaintance with whom he en- tered into conversation, the young one proceeded more freely in search of his fair Harriet. At length, she struck upon his senses like the noon-day sun upon a renovating sight. She was sitting on a sopha by her mother, in a small India houdoh\ where^ at a table, a man of haut ton was practising the slight of hand tricks of Breslaii)^ which if report speaks truth, he had displayed rather too freely at Brookes' s^ and in con- sequence had been conducted to the door;' this nobleman's feats were highly applaud- ed, and Mrs. Vincent was watchins: the rim MAN OF soRROvr. 25 Operator clo^Iy ; the old Sir ISIammon Clare was standing at her side, with his red ribband flowing hke a silken river across a meadow of -white dimity waistcoat ; his star glittering as his broad sides shook with laughter, at the comical changes the ^onjurinp^ peer effected. Savage was leaning on the back of the chaise longue where the ladies were seated, whispering soft nonsense to Harriet, and beating his pearly teeth with her ivory fan. Edward e:azed at her with delight ; she was simply dressed in white muslin, with a close fitted body of the same coloured iBattin ; her figure, which was exquisite, appeared in this costume to the greatest ad- vantage ; for in a young woman, simplicity of dress is every thing. A combination of gaudy colors glaring on the sight, a load of ornaments, a suit of pearls or diamonds draw away the eye, and divert the attention from the beauties of nature, which shine, " When unadorued, adorood the most." VOL, I. C 26 THE MAN OF SORROW. Her cheek was flushed with the heat of the room, and probably with some of Sa- vage's remarks, but she had not recourse to 7'ougB, This paltry artifice in a girl is disgusting and ridiculous ; the maiden blush of modesty beats all the gew gaw trash of paint, and pallid nature is a thousand times to be preferred to ruddy art. ITer hair was dressed with the greatest taste ; it was of a fine light color, and among its gracefully falling curls, cupids seemed to sport by thousands, while in her sensible blue eyes, there was such a soft and exquisite expression, that it seemed as if heaven, when it had formed her all per- fection, grew so enamoured of her, that it had marked her for its own. Edward, irresistibly drawn to the centre of attraction, passed and repassed before the throne of his goddess, and every time he came in contact with her, her eves fol- lowed his footsteps, till at one instant their looks meeting, the blood flew into her THE MAN OF SORROW. ^7 cheek, and she blushed like crimson ; Savage catching the glow — said — '' Pray do you know that dismal looking youth ?" '' He is a neighbour of my mother's, '^ said Harriet, " his name is Musgmve ; ho i's in mourning, beseems as if he had lost — " ■ " His heart,"' said Savage ; " come come, miss — upon my honour, I shall sus- pect you.'^ '• Of what ?''— said her mother, turninsr round ; ''Onlvtlirtation, madam, '^ replied Savage, v^lv.ch perfect ly satisfied the cautious matron, who cared little for anv thins: but the union of this vouncr man with her dauo^hter ; it was the very thing she had set her mind upon, it was ihe ob- ject of all her exertions, and how it was to be effected, she minded not, so that it tc^/.y effected at all. Edv/ard was not such a novice in looks as not to notice the expression of Harriet's eyes as he passed, and he resolved to re- quest Lord ilosemore to introduce iiim to c 2 ■28 THE MAN OF SORROir. Mrs. Vincent. He set out for the room where he had just seen his noble host, and with a sort of palpitation at his heart, arising from the peculiarity of the request, and the exalted rank of the person he made it to; he implored his lordship to chaperone him to the Boudoir \ the earl^ all affability and good humour, after joking him on his discernment of beauty, took him by the band, and led him to the chaise longue^ where they were seated. *' Mrs. Vincent," said his lordship, " I have brought you a young friend of mine, and a neighbour of yours, to introduce to you." Mrs. Vincent rose, and with a chil- ling look, expressed the. honour he did her, then throwing her sparkling eyes upon her daughter, to watch what kind of reception ^he would give him, re-eeated herself, as if she conceived she had stepped from her dignity materially, to notice a young man, whose manners and attractions she feared more in regard to the effect they might 7irr :>TAX of sokrow. 29 &ave upon her child, than she admired them from herself. '' Miss Vincent." — " ]\Ir. ^vfiisgrave,'' were the words that brou<:^ht their eves for the second time in contact, A gentle fluttering seized both their hearts, and the blush of confusion mantled in their cheeks. Savage had turned upon his heel with an exclamation of'-'M]/ God!''^\\d v/alkedoff. Musgrave coolly seated himself in the place he had vacated, and quietly possessed the little bit of heaven he had thirsted for so long. Conversation v/ith Mu?<2:rave was gren- erally at hand, and in a few minutes, the newly introduced couple were perfectly good friends ; their ideas, when exchan- ged, agreed upon most subjects, their tastes assimilated, and their wishes travel- led in the same sphere. First impressions were favourable to both ©f them, for in a quarter of an hour's ijitercourse, Harriet thought she had never G 3 30 THE MAN OF SORROW, seen a pleasanter creature than Edward IMusgrave, who, in his turn, was convinced he had never been in the society of any thin^ half sofascinatino: as Harriet Vincent. '' Where is Mr. Savage?" said her mo- ther; " I really don't know," replied the daughter, in a tone which indicated that she really did not care, *' Come,'^ rejoin- ed her mamma, " then we will take a turn round the room ; we may light upon some beau to escort us to the supper/' " You may command me^ madam," said Edward. " You are very good, sir, I am sure,^' answered Mrs. Vincent, coldly — and with a " come come," to her daugh* ter, she hurried her away, as if she feared Musgrave would have infected her, like the Upas of Java, with some pestilential disorder. He remained motionless in his chair for some time ; he watched the sylph-like form of his lovely companion with anxiety; will she, thought he to himself, turn to look after me r no yes no ! THE MAN OF SORROW. 51 ves ! she did. she did — it was a fair challenge by cupid — and he accepted it. Supper was just announced, and so ea- gerly did he press forward to gain his sta- tion near Harriet, that he broke the shins of a marquis, tore the train of a count- ess, and upset the chair of a prince of the blood; — but it was all excuseable — the marquis could not have been angry ; the countess would have smiled forgiveness, and the prince granted him a free pardon, if they could have seen the charms he was pursuing^. Savage was with the Vincents, Harriet on his arm— -he was seated between her mother and herself.—" Divide the ladies,^* resounded from the haiit pas where the Countess Rosemore was seated ; Edward caught the command, and, stepping over the form, placed himself next to ]\Iiss Vin- cent, on the lower side, and divided her from Miss Vain, the impertinent daughter of a rich upstart city merchant, who with more affectation than paint, more words c 4 5'^ THE MAN OF SO R HOW, than hairs, ami more conceit than her mother, iuiended to be thought a beauty, and piqued herself upon conquests from the titleci don at the west end of the town,- to the apron'd apprentice at the east. Now did the httle god play off his. darts at Edward from those blue eyes he had admired so much; dangerous astro* iiomv, watchino' such stars ! mild as the spicy gales of the east, their radiance warmed his very soul ; brilliancy bade his- resolution die, and with the sparkle of tri- umph they unconsciously seemed to revel in the conquest. They spoke volumes to his heart. She ims a beautiful creature. Oh ! if all women were Harriet Vincents, Heaven> would hold out no temptations to man ! Gay without levity, serious without diil- ness, elegant without affectation, and lovely without vanity, this child of inge- nuousness completely subdued poor Ed- ward Musgrave. She was requested to sing ;,uiiasi5uming:: THE STAN OF SOItROW. 35 find unaffected, without hesitation she complied, and breathed forth a song — op LOVE. Oh! such a song! and such a girl! She was alarmed, and her bosom palpitated wiih timidity as the sweet notes drop- ped from her hps hke honey from a bed of coral. Her mouth was the most exquisite bit of nature's cunning after all, and as the song proceeded, a wicked line ('Tvvas Moore's) lighted up her countenance iiito the full blaze of beauty. This was the coup degrace^ — and Signer the executioner of the holy inquisition himself, never gave a surer blow — Edward was her's for ever. Time flew — the party began to separate — the carriage was not ordered, Ed- ward offered hisarm to Harriet, and it was accepted, though to do he^ mother justice, she endeavoured to persuade him to be- stow it upon her; our hero however was rather too much for the dame, and not C 5 34- THE MAN OF SORROW. such a novice, as having once gained pos- session of the young lady, to surrender her easily even for a single moment. Thus they proceeded homewards; Sa- vage was introduced to Musgrave, and the recapitulation of the party, scandal of the women, anecdotes of the men, and remarks upon the different styles of dress, employed their tongues to the doors of their houses, where on parting, Edward with the most modest assurance gently pressed the hand he longed to make his own. Tis very strange what a pleasure the mere contraction of the fingers gives when they enclose the hand of a person we es- teem — how is it to be accounted for ? — not in theory — assuredly, — practice is the only elucidation, and, at all events, the best mode of proving facts of this sort, because it is universally allowed to be the plea- santest. — And with this gentle squeeze they parted for the niuht. THE MAN OF SORROW. 36 CHAP. III. From the evening of this party, when their acquaintance commenced, liii the •midclle of November, many were the hours which Musgrave and Harriet passed to- gtither. Savage, the day after the fete, set oiFfor Liecestershire, and Mrs. Vincent, naturally fond of society, indul2:ed herself perpetually in the company of Edward,. without reflecting what would be the na- tural consequence of so unreserved a com- munication between two persons oF shiii* larages, tastes, and dispositions. This was the happiest period of Mus* grave's life — in the society of a girl, so amiable, and so beautlfal, he acquired the balm for all the sorrows his mother's' death hud involved him in ; with this love- ly creature the days seemed minutes; her modesty, her filial virtues, her disposition^ c 6 ^ 6 THE MAN OF SORROW. her accomplishments, all endeared her to him, and imperceptibly, without the af- fectation OF love, rendered her so com-- pletely part of himself that he was wretch- ed without her; on the other hand, an inti- mate acquaintance, with kis good quali- ties, an esteem for his talents, and an as- similation of taste, had rendered Edward^ not less agreeable to Harriet : the force of habit had become a second nature, and nature herself seemed wounded, if acci- dent kept them apart more than the cus- tomary time of separation. Mr. Savage was too much of the mo* dern man of fashion to w^ste the precious time in writing, which might be so much more profitably spent in hunting and shooting ; he never took the trouble of corresponding with Mrs. Vincent, or her daughter, except in short notes to request their acceptance of game, which he had honoured, so far as ^' to give the barrel to J** his exquisitely elegant term for having brought down bis bird* THE MAN OF SORROW. 37 Of this rival, perhaps it is necessary to say a word or two ; his figure, though pC" tite^ was not ill made ; his appearance' had somewhat in it of the Bon Ton, his complexion resembled that of a sickly South American, a brown vellow tint was the substitute for a blush, and his languish- i-na: half closed o;reen eyes, which were constantly fixed upon Harriet, certainly re- gembled rather the orbs destined to illumi- nate the head of a cat, than those designed to embellish the face of a man. This was one of the gentlemen Edward never ventured to enquire after; but he perpetually heard ^Irs. Vincent hinting, that " Mr. Savage thought Harriet an an- gel, that he always spoke in raptures of her singing — her dancing — her playing," go that he looked upon his very name as a bug- bear to terrify him. About the commencement of November, the much dreaded man of mode arrived a second time in the village, and Edward felt all the horrors of jealousy, that sort of r» 8 THE MAN OF SORROW. jealousy, arising from fear, without which there is no love; he saw the girl he adored more than life, always in the society of a man he detested, he saw Savage's eyes, green as they were, sparkling with triumph, and beheld him affecting to be more intimate with Harriet than he realhj was, merely to shew his consequence in the family, and create unpleasant sensations in the breast of his rival, which he began to suspect Edward to be. Musgrave and Savage perpetually clash- ed in their meetings, but the beau lover had taken up his abode at the inn of the village, and his head-quarters being fixed in a situation so closely approximating to the citadel, it appeared as if he was resol- ved not to withdraw his forces till the gar* rison surrendered. In this posture affairs remained for a week or two, till at length the day Edward had so long dreaded arrived, things were brought to a conclusion ; Mr. Savage made the offer of his^ hand to Harriet — Mus- THE MAX OF SORROAV. 39 grave by chance happened not to call in the morninof — the beau lover was closetted in the house, Harriet guessed the business, and her surmises were all substantiated by her mother's entering the room, and dis- closino' the matter to her thus. With an affected good nature, taking her daughter's hand, she began her attack, bv saving: how devoted she was to her child's welfare, that her happiness was the sole object of her life, and that in what she was then going to propose, by her en- deavours to effect it, she should materially affect her own comforts, by depriving her- self of the society of her darlins: S'irl. " The truth is my dear," said she, '• that Mr. Savage, pleased by an intimate know- ledge of your good conduct and behaviour, in addition to whatever share of beauty and accomplishments you possess, has just now commissioned me to make an offer of his hand and heart to vou ; vou will recollect, my dear," added she, "as far as pe- cuniary matters go, this union is peculiarly 40 THE MAN OF SGRRO^T. advantageous ; his father is a man of large fortune, and he is besides a relation of Lady Rosemore's, so that an introduction to the most elegant society will be secured for you ; as to himself, his manners and person are such, that any woman may be happy in marriage with him/' Thus the kind parent proceeded, point- ing out advantages, and descanting on his prodigious merits, till having gone ten times through the whole vocabulary of his good qualities, she desired her daughter's answer, simply saying, " I shall say, love, that you will accept him, then,^' in a tone which implied the certainty that she would answer in the affirmative. Now Harriet had a general character (and a justly drawn one too) for timidity and gentleness; these qualities in a woman are exquisite ones, but if the ti- midity and calmness which we admire so much in common life, rule through their greater actions in the world, we shall find the gentle unassuming female, generally THE BTAK OF SORROW. 41 m^ide the dupe of her own amiable dispo- sition. It was not so with Miss Vincent, she €ou/d rise boldly into action, where reason dictated, and propriety authorised her doini>' so : and sureiv if a woman be a free agent, no time is so fitted for the exertion ©f her energies, as t/iat moment her de- cision in which makes her happy or miser- able for life. Boldly collecting all her fortitude, hep answer to her mother's question, whether slie would accept him, was firm, laconic* and expressive— "^Nev£R," was the sim- ple reply — verhum sat. The parent did not receive this resolve with the beautiful philosophy she had so- often preaclied, but, bursting into some- thing very like passion, exclaimed in a yoice of thunder : " Never ?— not accept Mr. Savage !— why what do you mean, has he not legs and arms, and a head, and every thing that 4 man should have ? and what in the devii't 49 THE MAY OF SORROW, name do vou want : has he not a fortune, is he not cousin to a countess, can't he keep you a carriage, can't he introduce you every where, what is it you look for ? but I know what it is, you have some other at- tachment, you have, you jade, you have.'* '' Indeed 1 have not," replied Harriet, in a tone of as much firmness as she could command to utter a falsehood. " Mii>htv well," exclaimed the mo- ther, "' and I am to reiect Mr. Savaq:e." " I have said, madam/' was Harriet's answer ; after hearing which, her mother, with a curse upon the tip of her dehcate tongue, bounced out of the room to pro- nounce the sentence of the man she wish- ed success to. The httle girl's susceptible heart flutter- ed most rapidly at the recollection of the firmness with which she had denied the arbitrary power of her mother^ and throw- ing herself upon a sopha, she burst into tears. She had now taken the step that marked 4 THE MAX OF SORROW. A6 her partiality for Edward ^^lusgrave, aod had bv the odc decision ridded herself of the attentions she had been accustomed to receive from Savage. Her brow resumed its usual placidity, and the smile of coii- teTituient sat upon her countenance; her bosom recovered its tranquillity, and her limbs their steadiness long before the sum- mon to dinner roused her from the re- verie into which she had fallen. During the meal little was said: ^vage however was gone, and there was but little probability, after the repulse he ha J rnet with, that he should return. The repast was hurried over ; and no sooner was the cloth removed, aiid the servant retired, than Mrs. A incent started the old topic, arraigned her child for imprudence, won- dered what girls meant by forming opinions of their own, preached up patience in a violent passion y and bullied her daughter into a lesson of temperance. So blind are mortals to their own follies and imperfections, and so forgetful of their ^^ THT. MAN OF SORROW. own misdeeds while expatiating on the: oversight of others ; the lawyer wko in court pleads honestv^, forgets how often he has taken fees from his adversary to quash evidence ; the divine, who fronn the pul- pit preaches moderatiouy ceases to remem- ber the oppression with which he rules his- parishioners ; and the lady who was now arraigning her daughter's conduct, never recollected that twenty years before she had married young Harry Vincent, without sixpence in the world, in opposition to her parent's injunctions, only because she LOVED him. This lecture however was rather unsea- sonably broken in upon, by the arrival of Edward Musgrave, who came to pay hi» devoirs. ** His custom always in the afternoon." Reports fly quickJy, and though the re- jection of Savage had hardly taken place, Edward had heard of it; an old servant of Mrs. Vincent s, with whom he was a agreat favorite, had told him of it^and the THE MAN OF sou ROW. 45 aetelligence did not tend to lower his spirits — he imagined at all events that the coast was clear, and the evening passed off most hilariously. The next mornins: brouQ:ht with it how- -ever an event as little expected as desired. Edward called on his fair Harriet, and who in the name of un, from which he never returned. VOL. I. D 50 THE MAN' OF SORROW. Miss Mumford, (now Mrs. Vincent) felt all the stings of poverty coming upon her, and by the intercession of a frien.-l, the little Harriet, when about a twelvemonth old, was taken to her grandfather's villa ; here her silent eloquence gained the old man's heart, and in the midst of his fond- ness for the child, his daughter rushed into the room, and declared it for her own. His resentment vanished, he received them to his house, forgot and forgave her misconduct, and at his death, bequeathed her his whole fortune, on which thev reti- red to the elegant cottage they now inha- bited, to the total oblivion of Cheapside and Manchester stuffs. Here then was the career of Mrs. Yin- cent ; how far it warranted her pretensions to fashion, or how far it authorised her tvrannv over her daughter, it is difficult to sav ; certain however it is, that as a mo- ther, till the present instance, her conduct towards Harriet had been exemplary ; no care, no cost had been spared to render 4 THE MAN OF SORROW. 51 her perfectly accomplished, and if the per- fection of a purpose be delight, no parent could be more fully repaid than Mrs. Vincent. She saw her child all excellence ; Apollo would have been proud of her as a pupil in music, Terpsichore jealous of her in the dance ; her mind was formed for the most refined studies, and her heart calculated for the reception of the purest virtues ; her innocence was innate, her modesty ex- quisite, and her disposition the most amia- ble in the v/orld. Savage then w^s gone, and Edward left in possession of the field. Happily did the hours pass in her society, and if they did not mutKallij feel a dep^ree of pleasjire in each other's company, Lavater would have been puzzled to kiiovv what ilieir iooks inferred. Hut strange to say, her mother, a clever shrewd woman as she was, in all this in- tercourse, where they sang together, drew together, read together, and were constant- ^2 THE MAX OF SORROW. ly together, never suspected the existence of any attachment stronger than friend- ship, till Edward feeling it a duty to unde- ceive her, told her the state of his heart--- not verbally, his couras^e would not bear him out in that, but by letter. The answer he received to his candid disclosure was such as wounded his in- most heart ; Mrs. Yincentdid not object to hi:r as a young man, no, she owned a partiality for him, but she felt it a duty to reject his offer, as he had no fortune^ and was not in the train Cif getting one. IJcre w?is a death blow to all his hopes, THE SORROWS of the man began — this was his last of haj)piness. The painter's art, the poet's fiction, can- not describe the sensations that distracted him on the receipt of her letter.— r^Iadness was in his eve, and horror in his heart--- torn from Harriet— forbidden the house where hehad spent the happiest hours of his life ; what was to be done ? for two whole davs did he seclude himself from every THE MAN OF SORROW. 63 body, and on the third evening he deter- mined to call on Mrs. Vincent, and en- deavour to prevail upon her to revoke her mandates. He crossed the lawn, and tapped at the door---" Is vonr mistress within ?''-—" No sir,'' rephed the servant, *' she is at \j',H\y llosemore's.— Miss \'incenl is at home.''' —Edward would have said '- No, I. will not go in," but his resolution failed, arid he found himself in the presence of the adored girl o?icc more. To attempt a deticription of rhe scene that ensued, would be not to do credit to the feelings of the charming couple ; suf- fice it to say, that Mrs. Vincent had neve-r told her daughter of Edward's proposal, but endeavoured to enrage her against him, by making /ic/- believe that his absence from the cottage proceeded from negli- gence towards her ; when he had unde- ceived her, her astonishment was only equalled by her sorrow that her mother D 3 64f TIJ-K MAN OF soil ROW. sliould have endeavoured to c/icat her into l;ei' purpose. "- Good God/" exclaimed the bewildered Ifarriet, **isit possible? have I been delu- ded by nny mother — and is she determined that Savage shall be my husband ? — ^* '- Wiiat!'^ said Edward, trembling for her answer — '•• do you not love him r — '' Love him !'^ exclaimed the raving girl — " do you think Edward, I can love TWO? — I detest him." This was a downright confession, to which Musgrave had never before been able to bring her. " My mother," continued she, ''dissem- bled her sorrow and surprize, at your dis- continuing your visits here, so well, that 1 endeavoured to persuade her to send to enquire the cause of your absence, but I trust heaven will forgive her for setthig me the example of deception — In such a con- cern as marriage, surely the inclinations of a child should be consulted ; — Oh Edward, what's to be done? — 1 thought she TIIL MAN OF SORROW. 53 would have sacrificed any thing to mi/ hap- piness; but this is absolute tyranny — how shall I escape it ?" '* Escape" was the word that struck upon his ear, — this was the moment; she had been deceived bv her mother, allowed the perpetual society of thisyoung man only to feel the loss of it Vv'ith greater force, — deception now was only retaliation — Ed- ward mentioned elopement, threw him- self upon his knees, and implored the girl of his heart to ftivour his wishes, and con- sent to flight. His prayer prevailed — she agreed to the plan, and they determined that very nioht to set off for Scotland, where their hearts would be for ever united, and when relieved from all fear and anxie- ties, they might, when blessed i)y Hy- men, enjoy the delights two beings feel in an exchange of sentiments, and an entire union of soul. This is a lesson to parents, who expect obedience, not to be too unreasonable in the exercise of their power. Had this gir[ D 4 JD THE MAN OF SOJIROW. iirver been deceived, never forced, she never would have entertained the thonQ:hts of eloping — it was a rash resolve — but re- solved it now was, and however decisive , she trembled, she turned to look at the house, where she had passed so many; hours; where her mother, unsuspicious of her fli2:ht, skunbered secure. She leaned her flushing cheek on Ed- ward's shoulder, as he led her. to the chaise, which w^aited on the other side o^ the bridge, that crossed the mill-stream. Xhev stepped into the carriage ; the door was closed, he pressed \i^y to his breast. She sighed consent, — yes the lovelv Sfirl had surrendered herself — and the horses set off at full speed. Sorrow adieu I — Edw^ard has gained her, and Harkiet, is his.o^>! IfHE MAN OF SORROAV. ^9 CHAP. V. Now whatever mother happens to read this tale, Avill immediately draw herself up at the conclusion of the last chapter, and calling it immoral, either shut up the book or desire her daughter, (]f ske be reading^,) to do the same, but this will not Hinder the young lady from finishing the story, or from following the example if she likes k, so weak is the power of parents over young modern misses, and so strong is the sway of their own inclinations. Thus, having proved that my story will in fact have no influence upon minds not given to eloping, I shall proceed with the^ narrative, because it begins to grow rather complicated, and it is but fair, since I have drawn the young people into some- thing like a difficulty, that 1 should do as dG 60 THE MAN OF SORROW. imich as lies in my power to extricate them from it. The step Musgrave had taken was the first marking decisive one of his life ; he had borne from all protection but his own a lovely girl, who with an equal want oi consideration, had thrown herself upon his honour — but she was safe, for he loved her. The general notion, by the way, that lovers are deceivers, must be erroneous, and the reason is a natural one; a lover and a deceiver are differeyit characters — for a de- ceiver cannot love, and vice versa, a lover cannot deceive — he ceases to be a lover, when he does. " Thesensations this fond pair experienced, as the horses gallopped forward, were such as none but those who have been in similar situations can conceive. The hopes of happiness, (which are all centered in the one idea of a safe arrival at their journey * end,) the fear of pursuit, (in which all the terrors aie combined) equally poi-se the THE MAX OF SOTIROAV. 61 hearts of flying loverSj-and temper the joy they would otherwise feel too exquisitely. For eisrhteen hours had the incessant Avhirl of the post-chaise continued, when Harriet first complained of fatigue, and in consequence of a delay for a change of horses, she pro}X)sed taking a short sleep* before they proceeded, to which as they were secure of ten hours in advance upon their pursuers (if they had any), Edward consented ; and while she was refreshinsr herself, he took a short walk into the town to procure fresh horses if possible, Havinsf therefore ordered every care to be taken of Harriet, lie proceeded to the second inn, and enquired of the landlord, if he could procure him four horses. *'No sir, [ cannot," replied the landlord ; '' I am very sorrv, really sir, but tlie last four I had in the stable, a gentleman in the parlour has just engaged.' * It is hardly necessai^ to observe that when she made this proposal she iuteuded to sleep alvrie, at all events it is as well to cxplaht. 62 THE MAN OF SORROW, " What can I dor" said Edward.— "Mr. Mussrrave." cried a voice from the room-^ " Mr. Musgrave, is that you ?'* Edward was somewhat startled at hear- ing* his name mentioned at so great a dis- tance from town, and had hardly recovered from his surprise, when the elegant figure of Mr. Savage stood before him. "Jt is useless, Musgrave," said the man of fashion, " to attempt to get horses here ; by G ad it is to no purpose. '^ " What, sir,'^ replied Edward^ " you have discovered me.^' *' Oh yes,'' cried Savage, " 1 have found you out — I saw you pass me just DOW in a chaise.^' '* And do you mean to stop me, sirr^' said Musgrave. "Not I, upon my soul, '^ re- turned Savage, " 1 always prefer forwarding such gmie go' s-^%0 fiir from hindering you, by Gad you shall have my nags to get on with — now do take them." This officiousness of Savage did not proceed from any partiality to Musgrave, but as he feared his influence with Harriet; THE MAX OF SORROW. 6 J he rejoiced in this op|X)rtuDity of doing what he considered getting him out of the way. It did not till the moment of this offer occur to Edward, that though Savage had seen him. he had not caiisht a view of Harriet ; his ideas however were confirm- ed by Savage enquiring after the Vincents, and desiring to be remembered to them, when MusoTave next saw them. A culprit reprieved never fe!t the joy he experienced at hearing these questions ; and wishing to evade any further conver- sation, he wished Savage a good day, and returned to the inn, where he left his fair charge, with a heart bounding with joy. He flew, rather than ran, to the room where he had left her — the door was open —his bird was flown, she was gone, — his blood ran cold — he rushed down stairs — he proceeded to the parlour where they had taken some refreshment — she was not there, he ran to the master of the house, who answered his enquiries with a drawl- 4 THE MAN OF SORROW. ing tone that " he really did — not^— know any — thing at all about her." Edward's heart was on fire, and the chill* ing reply of the phlegmatic landlord so pro- voked him, that raising his arm he knocked down the vender of wines, and he mea- sured his lensrth on the floor of his own passage. The noise brought several persons from the kitchen, and the mistress of the house, a fat greasy long-nosed red-i\\ced old wo- man, enraged against Edward, because he had gone to the other inn for horses,, called to a tail raw boned fellow who was standing looking on, and with a voice tru- ly Stentorian exclaimed — " Georire V/aters — vou are con.stable in this here parish ; I give you- cliarge of that man — take him over to Sir Peter Potiphar — he is a just-ass — and he will mittimize him." " What !" continued she, turning to the ostlers and cook, " is not a married man, and the father of a flimily, to stand in his ■111 \"t ■■ J5fagr»- THE MAN OF SOliROTV. 65 wife's passage withoiit interruption and abuse ? — take him alonci: — I'll go over and swear the peace against liiiTi.^' " For heaven's sake have p'ty," cried Edward, '' consider — I own I liave done (A'rong —Til pc'v — " '' Fav '* sni-l Georoe Vraters — von zci/l pay \'oT\t, yon may depend on it.'' " Where isthe ladv?*^said Mus^rave/nalf n)ad. '' I neither know nor care/' replied tlie mistress of thehonse— '' bhe's some run-awny madam i suppose, no better than she should he.^^ At the end of this reply, the landlord made a short speech, displaying his bloody nose at the same time, which bv no means tended to en crease Edward s popularity with the mob. At this moment a post-boy from the other inn entered the door, and with a loud voice bawled out — " Four horses for a 2:entleman here on to Gretna/' They were for Musgrave — he told them so — but they were deaf to all entreaties — 66 THE MAN OF SORROW. his heart was brcakinor— ^Harriet and Sa- vage in the same town — she ignorant of this adventure — what was to be done? — to trust Savasfe was of course to be betraved — he therefore collected his senses and sent a verbal message to him, thanking iimr fcr his offer, but said that in consequence of a circumstance that had occurred, lie had no occasion for the horses. This being done , he was conveyed along the street, his eyes still wandering in search of his dear girl, who he was now almost assured was fallen into the hands of Savage, so near the spot where they might be united : all these reflections nearly drove him mad. He was by this time at Sir Peter Poti- phars door — was he at home ? — no — he was gone to attend a vestry meeting — what was to be done, Edw^ard must be de- tained till he arrived — ^^he was therefore shown into a little parlour on the side of the hall, and desired to wait. The tumult of his brain was now too THE MAN OF SORROW. 67 ^reut to be borne, his a2:itation was terri* hie; the loss of his dear girl, the suspense he was kept in, and hfs ignorance of her fate, all conspired to make him misarable. After a delay of two hours, Sir Peter Potiphar appeared — tins old gentleman ruled the neighbourhood with sovereij^n svvav — he was a magistrate, but all the bu- siness of the office was transacted bv his daughter, Miss Potiphar, a lady ot such wonderful feelins^s tliat her humanity was proverbial — never a bastard child sworn, never an orchard robbed, but theoffendei', if he was a comely gentleman in person, was sure to escape. Her father, Sir Peter, had been knighted for carrying up an address — and them.onkey who had seen the world, was not a more grotesque figure ; his eyes, fearful of each other's prowess, looked across his Roman nose with the most brotherly' ^:lances, and formed what is vulgarly termed a The proboscis which emerged from his 6 s THE MAS OF S Oil ROW. visagp curled over his upper lip, as bis un- der oue overhung liis peaked chin ; a spare voice, words i:fsuiug slowly, and tlie most inveterate deafness, cumpleted his attrac- tions. In about twenty minutes, tlie coiirf being arranged, and Miss Potiphar seated on the bench bv her father, evidence was called for, and Mr. Vraters thus began. '' Please Tour worship. I was exalted to come and comprehend this man.''— '' Very good"— said the justice, (it was his favourite expression). '' For, your worship," continued \Vaters, *' that he had knocked clown the landlord of the White Horse."— " Knocked down a white horse," said Sir Peter, '-wdiat's tliat ?-— say that ac^ain.*^ '' Knocked down the landlord, vour wor- ship/^ bellowed the landlady. "Oh ! the landlord-— very good— pro- ceed," said his worship. And in consequence of this magisterial mandatCj the business went on in the sauie THE MAN' OF SORRCAV. 69 stvle for about an hour, and the examina- tion ended by Sir Peters committing Fd- ward to the countv sraol, to take his trial for the assault at the next sessions ; so that three hours had been spent to fix him a prisoner for as many months, but from this he met a happy release. Miss Potiphar, the young lady just no- ticed for her power as a magistrate, and whose feelinijs were so susceptible, no sooner heiird the sentence pronounced, tijan casting: her eves over the fii{ure of Edward MusLrrave. she thouirht she saw something about him which ouglit to pre- vent his being in durance vile, her tender sentiments towards the male species were awakened, and therefore in ten minutes after his removal, his discharge was sent over to the constable's house, and he was liberated on making some pecuniary resti- tution. The moment he found himself in pos- session of liberty, he ran to tlie inn u licre he had seen Savage, to enquire for him. 70 THE MAX OF SOU ROW. " He is gone, sir,'^ said the waiter," the lady did not seem much to hke to go, but he came over her scruples, sir, and they packed off together. ■'--- " What ladv ?" said Edward. '' Oh sir, a lady who came here to him ; she had a veil on, and he called her Harriet/' ''Oh God, ".cried Edward,---" she ha3 fallen into his hands— and here accumulate the SORROWS of my life." He raved-— he tore his hair-^he was con- vinced tliat he had lost her— what was to he done ? — *^ Get me another chaise and four, I'll follow him,"' — exclaimed the maddened youth. " Very well, sir,'^ answered the waiter, and proceeded to order the equipage. Edward's head burned — tears came to his relief — a torrent burst from his eves, ami he felt himself in less pain — he looked round him, and saw a little bov, the child of some of the inhabitants of the place, THE MAX OF SORROW, 71 Standing before him — the flaxen^haired son of labour, turning his large blue eyes towards Edward's face, said, *'• Prav sir, he vour name ]\IusQ:raver" *' It is mv little fellow." " Here is a letter for you, sir, a fine lady gave it me, sir/' It was of course from Harriet — he burst it open, and read : " I cannot meet vou till five, we shall be disfoverrd— 1 am watched — therefore remain where you are till dusk, and come to the style in the church yard at five; remember ; we shall then meet in safety ; consider what I have risked for vou, and be punctual/' " Heaven be praised '.'' exclaimed Mus- grave, '' and how well she has disguised lier hand — it is not the least like her wri- ting — here my firie li:tle fellow, tell the ladv I'll not ier|enquired if his name wasMusgrave! Astonished at the question, but not dis- pleased at it, as he imagined it led to some discovery of iiis charming girl, he started forward and answered the quwie in the af- firmative. " Then, sir,*^sa!d the guardian of the bar. ** here is a letter for you. It was left by a young lady who passed this in the four ©clock coach ; she desired me to enquire THE MA>: QF SORROW. 79 of every body who came through whether his name was Musgrave, and if it was, not on any account to fail of delivering it. '^ Delighted at once again receiving any tidings of Harriet, he burst open the note and 10 his great joy read these words. " Dearest Edward, "Isaw Savao-e in the town — astacre coach fof Gretna happened to pass through at the moment; trusting to Providence, I had the courage to enter it; I shall reach my journey's end in two hours ; this I leave at the turnpike, in the hopes that you will take this road to follow Yours devotedly, H. V." The rapture he felt at the reading of this epistle can better be imagined than ex- pressed. *' Faithful, noble girl, '^ exclaimed he, when he had finished it, " what action of a hfe dedicated to you will ever repay this firmness? it is too great a mark of fa- vor ever to be equalled ; my heart, my soul, are vours for ever/' 80 THK MAN or SORROW. This rhapsody was not very intelligible to the keeper of the gate, who stood with two fingers of his riglit hand placed upon the front of the briin of his hat, in an attitude which seemed to imply that though Mr. Musgrave was satisfied, he was not. Edward took the hint, and soon brought the worthy gentleman's understanding to its right sphere, by presenting him with a crown piece; for he knew the only way to get ofip with honour and expedition was C( ■Imposuere Coronam." This was an argument very quickly com- prehended, and pocketing the coin, the man ordered the post boy *' to put on,'' as every thing was right. Oh! what a mercenary w^orld we live in, that a man could not execute such a commission as this without expecting to be paid for it ! A truce with morahzing — off went the horses, — and every minute brought him THE MAN OF SORROW. St nearer his Harriet — yes — they should again meet, embrace, unite, never to part ! Oh ye who have known what it is to lOve may guess the warmth, the extacy of Edward's sensations; to describe them to tliose who have felt a touch of the passion j would be only a waste of time in telling them what they already know, and to at- tempt to depict them to thosn who never have experienced a wound would be still greater, for it could answer no puqitSi^ at all. In LOVE, there is a certain pleasure in sorrow, a joy in grief, and a delight in mi- sery, which the wisest head' in Christen- dom cannot explain; a fluttering of the heart, a flushing of the cheek, a trembling of the limbs, and a confusion of the senses while the object of affection is present, a restlessness and inquietude, sighs that come whence we know not, tears tiiatflow from hidden sources, a peevishness of tem- per, and a harreJ of society when that ob- ject is absent, wnich neither the pen of E 5 * 82 THE MAy OF SORROW. the poet, the pencil of the painter, nor the strain of the songster, can ever do justice to. In such a confuijion of idea then was.. Edward's brain, as the chaise rattled on towards the villao-e that contained his Har- riet ; and being such, gentle reader, you must understand exactly how he felt — *' For poor fellow he was in lov^J" Aye aye, laugh, ye little mischievous misses, laugh at that passage if ye please- but mind, lest before many months have elapsed, ye who fancy yourselves the freest from the passion do not become its most servile votaries — stranger things have hap- pened Edward in the midst of all his travelling speculations, however, was a little con- fused as to what Harriet it could have been who accompanied Savage on his jour* ney. " To be sure,'^ thought he, " there are more Harriets than mine, and if his is ano- ther, I really don't wish to enjoy mil th« THE MA^T OF SORRO-W. 83 Harriets in the kingdom — Heaven forbid — for I have seen one or two, that not ' to speak prophanely/ 1 would run as many railes to escape from, as I am now travel- ling in pursuit of another." Oh ! exclaimed the enraptured youth at the conclusion of his reverie, " We shall be married, aye before ten this night will she be my wife — united for ever — and then to-morrow and the next day — still my own, and the next, and the night,^ and all — '' *' It was a consummation dewouily to be wished." In this and similar soliloquys did he em- ploy his minutes, till he felt himself whirled into the village which contained his charm- ing girl, and the means of making her his. He ordered the chaise to the principal irm, where he had no sooner ah2:hted than Harriet was in his arms; she had been waiting anxiously for his arrival in a little parlour near the door; he caught her to his breast with a clasp of triumph. Now then was she his own— no one S4 THE MAX OF SORROW. coultl part them — cruel mothers — chatter-' ing friends and flattering rivals all were distanced — the game was run down, he was in at the death, and the brush was his own. False deUcacy at Gretna is exploded ; a woman when she goes into Lanchester'' s is known to want milhnery (people say some- thing more), when she lounges at Graifs she is understood to stand in need of trin- kets, when she stops at Gattie'^, she wants complexion, and when she goes to Gretna^ she wants a Husband! That being the case, 72ot to talk of marri- age is as absurdly outre as not to call for supper, and therefore Musgrave with a sly look at his blushing bride, ordered a coivple of roasted fowls and a parson to be ready immediately; the waiter, perfect in his part, stepped over to the chandler^s shop^ hired the divine, and at half past ten the hymeneal rites were to be solemnized. The landlady was to enact Harriet's mo- ther, the domestics were to olFiciate as THE MAN OF SORROW. Sf'; brides maids, and a couple of waiters were to witness the cerennony. All this being arranged, matters were thus far concluded without one six shil- ling's w^orth of law, one skin of parchment, or one word of settlement; a strikmg proof of the superfluous expenses which people run thernseK es to, in order to render their children unhappy. One heart for another is a fair exchange — it can be made bv a con- tract between the parties, sealed on thei r own lips; a man who as a husband will not regard a verbal engagement as sacred, will hardly be restrained from breaking legal contracts ; a lover's promise is the most inviohible, a lo- ver's oath the most binding in the world, at least thev ouQ^ht to be. as th(^ breaking the one, or failinor in the other, may involve in mi- sery, the solace of man's existence, woman. At lentrth, thecrt/2f/iWclersvman bavins: taken off his apron appeared in the room, and a more amiable character never ex- isted ; his tout ensemble rather bordered on the ridiculous, and it was with great dilfi- 56 THE MAX OF SORROW. culty the young couple could refrain from laughter. The landlord had promised that the sup- per should smoke on the table at half past ten — the parties waited with great anxiety, and an hour had elapsed before they dis- covered that the large clock upon thestairs, by which the cook was guided in her ac- tions, had stopped: the reason of which was, that being too tall a time piece to be regulated by any of the household, the job was always reserved for a lofty postillion belonging to the next town, who as fate would have it, had not passed through that day : this accounted at once for the delay of supper, which " mine host" apo- logized for, at the same time cursing the cook, an-d begging his clerical friend to proceed with the ceremony, added that as he observed Mr. Musgrave was as tall as the postilion in questior.. he would be much obliged to him as soon as he had gone through the marriage service if he would step up stairs and wind up the c(ock. THE MAN OF SORROW. S7 CHAP. VII. Now the moment approached, — the aw- ful service was to be performed — but oh — " What a falling o£f was there" in all the pomps and vanities of it. No altar blazed with holy tapers, no singing boys chaunted an epithalamiura, no organ sounded the joyous wedding peal, no bells gave notice to the world that Harriet and Edward were on the eve of being united for ever. No! instead of the altar, a round sup- per table divided the priest of Hymen from his votaries; a pillow from a bed in the next room served Harriet to kneel upon, two slender tallow candles, stored in Scotch air till they had grown thin, illuminated the shrine, and a prayer book (worn a little S3 THE MAN OF SORROW". in the service of matrimony) constituted all the external marks of reiisfion. The officiating minister was deficient in three great attributes of the clergy,- pride, fat, and canonicals: an humble de- portment, a spare body, and a rusty brown coat distinguished him from the rest of his brethren. Unlike some of them he could read '• distinctly, and at length the service began, ^nd proceeded/ till the priest put that sim-- pie question which decides the business: . " Whether Harriet Vincent would" have Edward Muso-rave for her wedded husband?" To which, naturally enough, Harriet Vincent was about to reply in the affirma- tive, when all proceedings were stayed, and the whole company thrown into the great- - est confusion by the very unseasonable entrance of Mrs. Vincent, Mr. Savage, and t^ree footmen, armed and prepared for a i^izure ! ! ! There is but one thing to a girl worse THE MAN OF SORROW. SS than doiilg wrong, and that is, being found out 1 " The attempt, and not the deed, confounds her."^ The bustle this Phantasmagoric appear- ance occasioned dan hafdVy be described ; the mistress and maids escaped by a sud* den bolt at ^he door in which they over- turned the astonished Mr. Savage, who beinsf a man of haut ton " wondered how people could do such things.'* The minister of the gospel abandoning his station, upset the altar into the fire, Edward was struck motionless with horror, and Mr; Savage fatigued by the exertmi of being surprized, thrCvv himself into an arm chair. Mrs. Vincent, v/hen satisfied of the just- nessof herconclusion, and the success of her journey, calmed her anger into something like decency, till the landlord, conscious that if his old timepiece had been correct, the ceremony would have been over an hour before her arrival, put her into a vio- fO THE MAN OF SORROW. lent paroxysm of passion by bawling as loud as he could — '* Oh if he had but wound up the CLOCK !'^ Which wish of his he repeated several tinnes, till the mother not understanding what he meant, let all her vengeance burst upon his head (having at the same mo- ment t/irow/i at it the pillow on which her daughter had been kneeling) in a torrent of words. '* Don't talk tome of your wnndingup," cried she, *' you impudent scoundrel, you ought to have your license taken away for suffering such doings in your house: I know two or three of the members of the society for the suppression of vice, and if you ever have any marriages in your house, they shall write admonitory letters to you^ as they did to my friend at Hyde-park Cor- ner; only for having a medallion of a man in an indecent posture stuck against the front of his house ! they shall, you scoun- drel, they shall ; they are all good Chris- THE MAN OF SORROW* 9"1 tians and will not 3uffer people to be mar- ried as thev like." " As for yoLi, Qiadara," replied he, " hang me if any society would take the trouble to write to you, and if they did I know no punishment bad enough for a woman who would make her child marry against her inclinations : and if so be," continued he, ** that this here little brown faced gentle- man be he as you wants miss to marry, curse me if it's even human in you to force her to have a monkey, when she's a mind ibr a man." Savage rose here to knock the fellow down, but mine host putting himself oa bis guard for the blow, the beau, though a disciple of Jackson's, declined the contest because he was not " hi training.* Harriet, who had not (l;ke most hero- ines) fainted, had by this time recovered from a violent fit of crying, and ventured to look at her mother, who no sooner caught her eye than siie attacked her iu the most opprobrious language. 92 THE MAN OF SORROW. *' Oh you wretch," said she, firing up,- " you despicable wretch^ what have you done ? are you not eternally disgraced by this step? degraded for ever!" " No, madam.^' said Edward, *' no child is disgraced by refusing to acknowledge despotism; servitude ot the body is an aw- ful curse, but when a parent endeavours to enchain the heart and inclinations, I only hope she may always meet a daugh- ter with spirit enough to free herself from such control." " What, sir, teach a child to rebel before my face r^' " No, madam," replied he^ " I would rather teach her mother to be loved r remember, as you have often told me of them yourself, ^0?^' sensations in a similar situation, when unprovoked by deception, you yourself took the same means of fol- lowing your own inclinations, and then considered the anger of your father as an injustice done to your sensibility." " I judged ihcn as a child, ^^ retorted Mrs. Vincent. ^' Then now, madam, feel as THE MAN OF SORROW. 9^ one; look at your daughter — the proto- type of angels, — distressed, overwhelmed, broken-hearted; if you can behold such goodness so oppressed and refuse your pardon, you have a harder heart than I can give you credit for/* " Pardon her, after leaving her home with a stranger 1" " A stranger !" said Musgrave, — " No madam, you will consider that under your sanction, with your concurrence,, I was al- lowed that intercourse which familiarised us completely to each other. — you de- ceived her, naadam, —look at that insignifi- cant thing you are pleased to design for her husband — did she not refuse his offers with disdain? and did you not, by a pri- vate agreement between you, suffer him still to pay his fulsome attentions to her, only because you had determined she should marry him! — Oh madam, madam, lay the blame of this step to no one but yourself, you are the cause of it, and you 3 Si THE MAN OF SOTIROW, alone will feel the miseries of retrospec* tion." Then turning to Savage, he said, " As for you, sir, I wonder that you should aban- don the lady who confided herself to your protection this morning; however, with you, I must at all events, have some pri- vate conversation— you are a scoundrel, and shall meet a scoundrel's reward/* This address had no other effect upon Mr. Savage than causing him to arise from his seat, turn upon his heel, and leave the room, exclaiming as he passed the door — " Impertinent fellow, you shall hear from me."' I'he moment he had retired, Harriet threw herself upon her knees to her mother, and in a tone of supplication that would have melted a Stoic, inplored for heaven's sake, that she would not force her from Edward. This appeal to her mother's feelings roused her into a determination to accel- erate her departure. She tore her child THE MAN Of SORROW. §5 from Edward's arms, who dared not against a woman use the exertions he might have put in force againt a man ; and deaf to the intreaties, the tears, the complainings, and the supplications of the distracted lovers, she thrust her into her traveUing chariot, and leaving a note for Savage, who had left the inn, set off for London well guarded by two outriders on horseback, and a man-servant on the box. When Edward heard the carriage wheels in motion, and considered what tbev bore from him, dark as it was, and late, he de- termined to follow them, and had actually ordered a saddle horse to put in practice his intention, when a gentleman wholly unknown to him personally, entered the inn and enquired if Air. Musgrave was there; hearing his name mentioned, Ed- ward immediately replied to it, on which the gentleman requested very politely that he might be indulged with a few moments conversation. His desire being complied with, and 56 THE MAX OF SORROW. the parties having retired to a parlour, the stranger opened the business by stating, that lie was a friend of Mr. Savage, who had just called upan him to say, that some unwarrantable language vvluc/i Mr. Mus- grave had made use of, rendered it neces- sary that he should either apologise for it publicly, or give him the meeting the next morning. To this message Edward could only re- ply, that situated as he was, at a vast dis- tance from all his friends and acquaintance, a meeting of the sort he proposed would be attended with very awkward circum- stances, but as it was utterly impossible that he should retract any thingr he had said, irksome as it wai- to his feelings, and inconvenient in his present situation, he certainly should make a point of attending Mr Savage at his appointment, as he doubted not but in the barracks of the neighbourhood he should find some gen- tleman who would undertake to be his friend upon the occasion; at all events he THE MAN OP SORROTT. 97 added, he would make a point of being punctual. The strange gentleman, having therefore named the time and place, took his leave of Musgrave, whose brain, confused as it was by the numberless exertions and scenes it had undergone and passed through du- ring the course of the day, was hardly in a State to bear so extraordinary and unplea- sant a surprise as was contained in the challenge he had just received. Hardly sensible of any action he com- mitted, unsettled as to what line of cchiduct to pursue, he rung for the landlord and en- quired if there were any of the officers of the regiment quartered there, then in the house, to which the man replying in the affirmative, he desired him to repeat their names, upon doing which Musgrave thouoht he recoo:nised that of Buhner. " Where does this gentleman reside when at home ?" said he. *' At home, sir,'' — replied the landlord — *' home — why Lord love you, sir, it*s only a V9L. I. F 9S THE MAN OF :^RROW. militia regiment, they have no home hut the barracks." *' You misunderstand me/' rejoined iVIusgrave, '' Mr. Bulmer must have some family/* " No," said the host *' he has got no ' family, sir, he ben't married, he has gotten a father alive, old Dr. Bulmer of Carlisle, he is his father." .^' This is luckv," exclaimod our hero. " Yes, for him it is, sir," replied the land- lord, " for the ould gentleman's mortal rich, and the pay of these here officers is'nt over much, considering they have to live like gentlemen ; one of my post lads gets more than one of their captains in a day, sir, but then he has'nt the honor of having a chance of being shot at, that's worth something to be sure, though to say truth these militia men ar'nt often in danger.'^ '' Get me pens and ink," said Edward, '* III write a note to Captain Bulmer.'^ *' Certainly, sir," said the man — '* Cer- tainly I will," and as he turned from his THE MAN OF SORROW. 99 guest to get the articles, he could not help exclaiming with a look of sorrow, "What a pity it was you lost her, sir, she was a 5weet girl to be sure, I never seeM a pret- tier.'^ These words struck like lightning to Edward's heart ; she was gone, she he adored, she he had pressed to his heart not an liour before was torn from him for ever, ' '* G Harriet," sobbed out the Avretched lover," '• I am within these few hours going into the -field for your sa'ke. Iff I fall, rriy "^dying breath shall utter a prayer for yotj'; that heaven may guard, protect, vatch over you, is my constant wish ; my nightly invocations to our maker are for you, in common with myself,— for let us be parted eternally, let mountains rise, or oceans roll between us, our hearts are so entwineti, united so inseparably, that they cannot (divide us, and if it is decreed that we shall see each other no more on earth, I shall look forward to the hour of dissolution f2 100 THE MAY OF sorrow: with delight, as that in which our souls may mingle, and our spirits meet." He had just finished this appeal to hea- ven when the man returned with the im- plements for writing ; Edward sat down and penned the following note to Captain Bulmer: *' Mr. Musgrave presents his compli- ments to Captain Bulmer; beheving that they have spent much time together at school, and during the vacations, he takes the liberty of presuming upon these circumstances to request a few minutes conversation with Capt. B. on very urgent business.'^ To Captain Bulmer, This letter had hardly been delivered five minutes, when the friendly Bulmer en- tered the room where Musgrave had fixed his residence. " My dear Ned — your hand, why who in the name of fate,'* exclaimed he, " could have expected to have met with you here. THE MAN OF SORROW. 101 and alone J what can have induced you to visit so cGupUng a climate without a mate?" "Oh Bulmer,'^ replied Edward, "-^ mij story is a complicated one, and I will not worry you with it now; I will be brief in what I ha^e to say, — a thousand unplea- sant circums<"a!ices have occurred to me, and the last is an affair of honour in which I am engaged with a rival of mine in a love business." '^ Oh, and you want me to be second,^* cried the captain ; " my dear fellow I am your man ; 1 tiave just received per mail, a brace of Mantoiis^ which are the truest shooting irons in England, hit the ace of spades off a bottle of Champagne for 50 only yesterday with one of them — damme Tm your lad. ' " 1 have no desire to kill mv antasfo- nist,'^ said Musgrave. "• Kill, no to be sure," interrupted Bulmer, *' only wMng him, tip him the lead tlirough his left arm, or give him the bullet just under his hefts, F 3 102 THE MAN OF SORROW. Sting him a bit, that's all,— damme who is " His name is Savage," replied Edward. *' What, Dick SaVage, who seduced bid Williams's daughter, and set fire to the par- son's house for pseaching at him ; curse me they say he burned his father's will, be- cause he \eh all his cash to charities, and- blew out his butler's brains because he wanted to hlonD the business ; Oh he's the best mark in the world. I saw him just now in the street before the inn, the moon glared full in his flice, but I thought 1 must be dec^"ived, for he does'nt often come into this pait of the country; his father has just popped off the perch, and he has come in for the stiiff ; but I say Ned, if you don't lav it into him vou deserve to be crucified, nobody ever had the opportunity before of tipping him the barrel ; he is but a shy lad at a fight in general — what time is it you xpeet?" ** At six,'^ said Edward. ** Damme," said Bulmer, looking at his THE MAJff'OF SOE^ROW. 10^ watch, " its one now — Oh we'll not go to bed, we'll have two or three bottles of cla- ret, they'll steady you, some broiled bones and a good lire, and then for the figlit ; give me your hand jNfusgrave, — curse it, I hardly expected to fall into so good a thing as this, either !'' In this way did the son of Mai^ pro-* ceed, tiii he actually persuaded Edward to sit down all nis^ht to tell him all his adven- tures, (so fond is a lover of speaking of his mistress;) and at the conclusion of the tale,^ the bottles were dry, the day-light was breaking, and the clock pointing to six ; — the hour was at hand — the hand was at the hoar — and off they went, properly pre- pared to the ground. *' When Greek meets Greek, Then corner the tug of war," H V F 4 104 THE MAN Of SORROW. CHAP. YIII. MusGRAVE and Bulmer having called at the latter's lodgings for the pistols he had spoken of, left a note at the surgeon's of the regiment, to desire him not to go out till after nine, and then walked leisure- ly to the ground appointed by the stranger. Upon their arrival, they perceived Mr Savage and his friend sitting on a style at the end of the meadow ; and Bulmer immediately told ?>Iusgrave that this friend of his antagonist's was a sea captain, who lived in the neighbourhood of Scot- land, upon a fortune saved from his services, and that he remembered to have seen him once with Savage at a party at Carlisle. Mr. Savage advanced to meet Musgrave, and was about to speak, when Captain Bulmer stepped up, and said that he con* THE MAN OF SORROW. 106 ceived it would be more regular, if Mr*. Savage had any thing to say, that he should conimunicate it by his second to him. This Savage agreed to, and the purport of the communication was simply this : That Savase bore no enmity to Mus2:rave for his efforts to obtain Miss Vincent, and that the whole reason for his desiring this meeting, was to have the harsh language Mr. MusQ:rave had made use o^ towards him, inthe heat of passion, explained. Mr. Savage added, that an apology, even upon the ground, fur those v/ords, would per- fectly satisfy him, and that he had no wish to take any steps against Musgrave's life. To this Musgrave, by Bulmer, replied, that he was extremely tenacious of his words, and very guarded in his ex{)ressions towards men in all situations, that in the present instance he had used the word ''- scotindreV^ to Mr. Savage, as he thought it applied, and that since the preceding- evening, nothing had occurred to make him change his opinion ; as that was the F 5 I06 THE MAN OF SORROW. case, he could not see how Mr. Savage could expect an apology, and atallevents* he wa3 determined nothing should exact one from him. After this reply, nothing was to be done but fight ; and therefore the seconds having agreed upon the distance, the combatants took their stations at twelve paces from <^ach other, and it being agreed that they should fire together at*^ signal, the seconds retired. The moments which preceded the sig- nal were truly awful ; two men in habits of acquaintance with each other, stood armed for each other's* destruction ; Edward's thoughts flew to Harriet, and his heart palpitated, as he recollected the misery of her situation. The word being given, the gentlemen fired together; they remained unhurt — no questions were asked by the seconds, but the remaining pistol of each case was hand- ed to each of them. The word was given a second time, and THE MAN OF SORROW. 107 in an instant afterwards, Savage measured his length upon the turf. Musgrave, immediately forgetting all the differences that existed between them, ran towards him, butSav,Tge\vas not conscious of this act of friendship ; the ball from Ed- ward's pistol had passed through the left breast into the heart, and at the moment he advanced to the spot where Savage lay, he became a corpse. Immediate death was the consequence of the wound, and Savage's second, turning to the victor, advised him to make off with what speed he could, observing that the as- sizes at Carlisle would not be held for six or seven weeks, and if he was apprehended then, he must remain in prison during the whole of that time. Musgrave and Bul- mer however resolved not entirely to quit the place till they had heard the verdict of the coroner's jury, who of course would be immediately summoned ; they there- fore hurried to a farm-house in the ncigh- f6 108 THE MAN OF SORROW. bourhood, where, through the interest of Bulmer with the old widow who kept it, and her pretty daughter, they received shelter from their pursuers. The body of Savage, as soon as the alarm was given, uas moved down to the Sun, where, being undressed, the surgeon examined the wound, and described it to be exactly as was stated. Ije/e then is a lesson to mankind ; high in the flush of prosperity, and in the me- ridian of gaiety the night before, this in- animate piece of earth, now stretched on an ale-house bed, was in the full possession of all its faculties ; * arrogant, presuming^ and insulting, the vicious Mr. Savage had been plotting new sins, and new villanies ; but an hour before his death, with the crime of seduction on his soul, he had en- deavoured a second time to commit the act which, once succeeded in, stamps a man — a villain ; and with all these sins upon liis conscience, this giddy being of fashion was called in an instant before his maker. THE MAN OF SORROW. 109 Oh ! what a reflection to the thinking mind ! Unawed by a sense of religion, by a sense of decency, had any one of his companions the preceding night, ventured to remind him of a future state, ridicule and contempt would have been the reward of his rash attempt. What — a man of five thousand a year think of heaven ! — psha ! — cannot he possess every thing he wishes for on earth ! — his horses — dogs — carriages — claret, and champaigne ! Man, man, learn to think while you are in health, that you may know how to suf- fer when vou are in sickness : take Savage for your example: cutoff in the midst of his gaiety and his follies, without a moment's warning, he is hurried into the presence of his God, without a moment's preparation. You are all subject to the same extinction, BE THEREFORE READY. Consider the hour of death always at hand, and as it is inevitable, think it impending — Consider his thoughtlessness ; what is to become 4 10 THE ma;k of sorrow. of the victim of his art, ^Iary ? — of her .as yet we know but little. She was a flower, pure as the lily of the evening, till Savage plucked her from her native stem, and robbed her of her sweetness-^ her protector — (such was the name her se- ducer assumed) now is gone, and she^ poor creature, deserted by her parent, and scoffed at by mankind, is left aban- doned on the wide world, to seek her fortune from the charity of her fellow- creatures. Such was the end of Mr. Savage — without one friend to close his eyes, ex- cept a casual acquaintance who attended him to the field, without a relative to mourn his fate, his body was placed in a convenient place to meet the inspection of the coroner and hisjury. The reader may judge what his general character was, and what the impression it made upon the minds of the men who constituted the pannel, when he is in- formed, that having weighed all the cir- ,^JIE MAN OF SORRQW. ^'Ifl cumstances, and having considered that he was the aggressor in sending the challenge, thev returned a verdict of " Justifiable Homicide.^' No sooner was this decision known, than Mus2:rave and his second returned to the inn, where Edward remained till the ^ay appointed for Savage^s funeral, which having seen properly attended to^ he left Gretna for London, in the mail, with no pleasant reflections, as they regard- ed the past — the present — and the future. • As in the course of this narrative, occa-< sions will occur, where the object of Savage's seduction ^Mary Williams) will be fre- quently mentioned, it may not be impro- per here, while Edward is proceeding to town, to give part of the outline of her history. 4/ Mary Williams was the daughter of an honest respectable farmer at , a widower, and possessed of a competence adequate to all his wislies and his wants. Devoted to his child, he had spent thei 2 119 THE MAN OF SORROW. latter part of his life wholly at home, that he might train his Mary in the paths of re- ligion and duty. He was no canting Me- thodist, no ostentatious Catholic, no hypo- critical Quaker ; he was a good Christian, and a firm adherent to the mother church of his country ; he had loyalty enough to love his king, sense enough to laugh at what were called political Cjuestions, (about which there eould be no question at all), independence enough to censure men and measures he despised, and honor enough to give his vote at an election where he thought talent gave superiority. In short he was one of those men, who can lay their heads upon their pillows, and their hands upon their hearts, and say they never did a dishonest action in their lives. His daughter, at the time we shall first notice her, was turned seventeen, and a sweeter girl nature seldom formed. Her eyes were dark blue, emanating their spark- ling glances from under a pair of long THE MAN OF SORROW. 113 silken dark eye-kshes ; her brow bent like cupid s bow to give new force to the darts shot from beneath its curve. Her figure was small, well made, and delicate, her disposition heavenly as her countenance, her heart all rectitude and virtue. In the neighbourhood of their humble cottage, stood the pompous mansion of Mr. Savage, the father to the gentleman with whom we have been acquainted, and while his son was staying at home, either during the fashionable summer^ (that is to say in the months of October, November and December), or in the vacations of the university, he selected as a companion for his idle walks and saunters, the amiable and interesting Mary Williams. Naturally flattered by the attentions of a man so much his superior, old Williams, too confident in his daughter's virtue, and her lover's honor, suffered them to pass whole days together alone. Here Savage's villainies began, for 1;14- THE MAN OF SORROW. though he knew he had determined never tp marry ihis girl, he would every day meet her, sigh when he gazed upon her, take her hand, piess it softly to his lips, and draw such pictures to her ff^ncy, as filled her young imagination with delight — with rapture, nay, with luve. '•Mary, my life,'' he would whisper as they ivalked, " v/here is happiness to be found but in your society ? whcit is this world without you, what wealth could purchase pleasures which you did not share? " Oh sir,'' she would reply, " consider the difference of our situations, you are destined to adorn the highest circles, I, a poor unlettered girl." *' Unlettered — believe me, IVfary, you don't do yourself justice; turn over the leaves of the peerage, and you'll find countesses who can hardly write, mar- chionesses mere moppets, and women of haul ton raised to their stations from the stage, and worse places too. Oh Mary^ ijever let that alarm you, I seek no accom- THE MAN or SORROW. 115 piishmcnts which you do not possess.— na joys nhich you cannot bestow." In this manner did he raise hopes he never intended to realize, expectations h(? never, meant to fulfil, and if he ljid not love her, when he excited a passion in her breast, he was a greater villain than 1 even ^ispect him to be ; he miisi ha-ce loved her' at the time, but a fairer face chaced her from his imagination, and a fairer prospect mado him fortret the cotta^^e, and his Marv. Of all characters upon earth, none can ^qual for viciousness, those of a flirt and a coquet ; custom has given so much of frivolity to the epithets, that we are rather inclined to lauiih at, than seriously con- demn them, but v. hen they are considered in their proper light, it is a matter of doubt, whether they are equalled in vice by those of the highwayman or housebreaker. Some women consider it an addition to' the eclat they possess in the world, to be followed by a number of beaux, and there-* 116 THE MAN OF SORROW. fore to encourage their atieutions, bestow an equal share of favor upon each of them by turns ; but ladies should be cautious how they practise upon this system, there are so many of the fools in fashionable life who come under the denomination of boasters, that a woman\s honour is hardly safe in their hands, and by bragging one against the other, they proceed so far in their comparative discussions, that the poor Oiject of their conversation seldom comes off without some insinuations (at least; to the detriment of her character. But if a female coquet be a despicable character, what is a male one ? a vil- lain ! The female heart, formed by nature to be susceptible of the most tender impres- sions, is open to the wanton attacks of every libertine who chooses to make it a prey ; such a heart had Marv \'Villiams, such a character was Richard Savage. If he saw a beautiful girl in a party, her would he single out for his amusement. THE MAN OF SORRONVo 11^ «igh and gaze, venture with tire greatest timidity in the course of the evening to press her harni, mike ner believe he was desperately enamoured of her ; hand her to her carriage ; return to the room she had left — brag of the liberties he had taken with her, laugh at her credulity, and make her the ridicule of the company. That such a man should be shot, and out of the way, the reader cannot be sorry — would he had received his mortal wound before the middle of May — for it was one evening in that month that he had as usual appointed to meet poor Mary; it was per- haps the finest night that ever came, the moon was up and nothing marred the sweet solemnity of the scene, but the distant bark- ing of the village watch-dogs, or the falling of a little stream that rippled at the bottom of the hill over a row of planks raised to protect the neighbouring cottage doors. -^ Savage was at the appointed place be- fore her, and seating himself on the style, i 18 THE MAN OF SOllHOW, "Waited her coming — on a sudden the vilr lage bells sent forth a merry sound — it was Mary's 1 8th birth-day, and the young mea of the village were ringing a peal to honour it. Savage's heart beat with a sensation he could not define, perhaps he did love ber then — =for her triumph gave him plea^- sure. He w^aited till near an hour had elapsed, when Mary came bounding over the dewy .grass like zephyr on the rose-bud ; she flew to Savage, and with a look which the moon .discovered, expressed her fear of having tired his patience. — She took the hand he coffered — he kissed the words from her pretty lips, and placing his arm round her waist, commenced his congratulations of lier birth-day, in the most ingenious style of flattery. Mary had been presiding at her father's table — he had invited almost all the vouno; folks of the village, to a merry making in ho- nour of his girl's birth-day. She bad bee» THE MAN OF SORRO^Y. 1 1^ 'mistress of the feast, and though the floor were not chalked, though not a lord nor a iady adorned the assembly, though no great singer had two hundred guineas for singin'g a song, hospitality had cheered the scene, and friendship ruled the feast. Elated with the gaiety of her little party, and wild with love, (which Savage had inspired) the artless child of nature felt her spirits high, her cheek w arm, and her heart beating, — she was so happy that she did not struggle when he held her close- ly to his breast, no, she pressed his hand --but then it might have been to hurt him in hopes that he would remove it — Cupid only knows, for thus it was they entered t"hp prove ^^^^''^^^^^^ Moore has written a song about Fanny, which might be introduced here with ef- fect, but morality — we must consider that. The clock was striking nine when they 120 THE MAN OF SORROW. parted at the end of the avenue-— he bounded over the fields, his heart glowing with triumph, while she stole quietly t« her father's cottage. -i< Non pronuba Juno " Non hvmenaeus adest— non illi gratia heto!* THE MAN OF SORROW. 121 CHAP. IX. " Statu TUM est quod scholares et gra- duati cujuscunque generis a domibus et officiis oppidanorum de die et pnesertim de nocte abstineant, praecipue vero ab cedihiis hifames seu suspect as mulieres^ vel meretrices alentibus aut recipientibus; qua- rum consortis scholaribus quibuseunque sive in prhatis cameris sive in ccdibus op- pidanorum prorsus interdictum est, ct si quis de die in iisdem vel earum aliqua deprehensus fuerit si non graduatus sit pro arbitri, vice cancellaris vel procurato- rum qui deprehenderentcastigetur, si vero * These come under the denomhiation jjiven in the recent Opera house advertisement. Tiieir avoca- tions seem better understood than expressed.— *• Suspicion ill becomes the generous mind." V O L. I . G 122 THE MAN OF SORROW. graduatus fuerit 3s. 4d. pro qualibet vice universitate mulctetur.'' Sava2;e was an Oxonian — use is second nature, and il is to be feared that this very statute was the original cause of all his misdeeds ; what in the first place is chiefly enforced by it — abstinence, — " Ab aedibus infames seu suspectas mnlieres vel meretrices'' Quo tendis? Give me leave to observe by the way, ^Messieurs Trencher-caps, that you are play- ing the very deuce with your statutes ; if a man cannot walk along the high road, he will get over the hedge and walk in the enclosures, that is, if he is determined to walk at all ; look ye then, gentlemen, deny your youths the high road of wickedness, they jump w^ith fear from suspectas muli- eres, and attack citizens' wnves, and shop- keepers' daughters. This accounts for one of his acts, then for another — " Sive in privatis cameris, sive in aedi- bus oppidanorum prorsus interdictum est." Quo tendis? again. THE MAN OF SORROW. ]Q3 To the fields, the hedges, the copses, say I: it must be somewhere, and it really seems as if this statute went to the improv- ing rural sports, and the fertilization of the country. Horace might now ask of Tibullus with great propriety, '* All Taciturn sylvas inter reptare salubri.^ Curanleni quicqr.id digmim sapicnti bcnoque est. Non tu corpus eras sine pectore. Di tibi t'orinain, Di tibi divitias dedeiiint, artcmque Fruendi." And I do consider, gentle reader, that Savage is entitled to some lenity; for ha- bit, the fear of university dicipline, and ihe three shillings and fourpence, drove him to the sad extremity ; lie avoided all the penalties of the statutes, bilked the forfeits, and committed a heinous sin. Poor fellow, he is dead, however, and if like Beresford, one might be allowed a Latin pun, we miglit observe that we should be tender, since he is reduced to a heap of Bones — "Dc mortuis uil nisi Bvnurn' G 2 l^l THE MAX OF SORROW. From the evening rencontrc'm the dusky dell, Savage never took the trouble to en- quire after Mary; his point was carried, and immediately after, he fell into the so- ciety of Harriet Vincent, whose superior beauty chaced the recollection of all his preceding favorites^ and left Mary no chance of reparation. Poor Mary watched his departure from the village with the most agonising sensa- tions. " , In she had fallen Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again." On the mornini; he left for Lon- don, she was at the window of her humble bed chamber ; the sun beamed through the newly budded foliage of an ancient tree that stood before the cottage door, a rustic seat was formed at its foot, it had been the shrine of industry, the throne of bhss, where murmuring discontent had never dared to whisper woe, but where poor Mary had enjoyed so many happy IIIE MAX OF SORROW. 120 hours, that as she sat at the casement she could not choose but weep to think ou what she xoas, and what she had been, A noise rouzed her, she looked up, it was Savage, the man who lo~cecl, the man who had seduced her: the horses bore him rapidly from Mary, she would no more behold him, no more hear his vows, his sighs, he was leaving her-— for ever ! He waved his hand ta her as he passed^ she biirst into tears, she stretched forward to look after him, he did not see her, she watched, the carriage turned the corner, and was out of sight. Would there had been no corner — he might, perhaps, have looked again ; he did not, and she shut the casement, she had nothing more to see, and leaving the win- dow, she threw her aching head upon tiie pillow she had wetted with her tears. Poor girl, she never saw him more ; her fate was a hard one ; for the present, how- ever, we must bid her adieu, and return to Musgrave, the " man ofsourow.' G :3 15G THE MAX OF SORROW. Having wrapped himself up in his tra- velling coat, the hero of our narrative threw himself into the mail coach at the moment it stopped in the inn yard, and without taking any notice of his fellow traveller (for he had one,) coiled himself into a cor- ner, determined, if possible, to sleep away some of the dreary hours of his journey. The night happened to be very dark, and Musgrav^e very restless ; his thoughts wandered very naturally to Harriet, to the duel he had fought, and its consequences, till fancvino: he heard his fellow traveller awake, he ventured by way of diverting his attention, to ask him " if he had any idea what the hour was r'^ The gentleman returned no answer. iVIusgrave was not to be abashed, and therefore observed, ''it was an unpleasant night for travelling.^' Still his companion remained silent. *' Would you like the window down ?^ «aid Edward. I\o reply was made, and being curious THE MAN OF SORROW. 127 to know what kind of a being he was shut up with, he stretched forth his hand and feehng the gentleman's surtout, endea- voured to commence a conversation once more, bv remarking', '' what a very com- tortable coat he had on for a joiirnev." This agreeable partner of his fatigues, however, persisting in his taciturnity, Ed- w^ard again essayed to get a httle rest, aijd at length succeeded, for m about ten mi- nutes he sunk into a sweet sleep, in which he continiied till about S in the morning. At this juncture he awoke, and j»jdi,^e what were his feelings, his sensations, and his ideas, when upon opening his eyes he found that his mail coach friend was no- thing more nor less than a Russian hear^ muzzled and tied to the seat ! Thrusting his head out of the window, with an oath he enquired of the coachmaa how the devil the animal had got there ? '' Vy I put him there," said a fellow re- sembling a Cyclops, who was seated on the coach box. G 4 128 TUE MAN OF SORROW. *' You did, sir ; then now FII be obliged to you/' said Edward, " if you will put him some where else/' " No I shant," replied the man, " you loves yourself, I loves my bear, cause though 1 keeps him, vy he keeps me, I lives by him, I have paid for him as an inside passenger, and hang me if he shant ride inside all the way." " Then 1 will not," said Musgrave, at ihe same moment calling to the guard to open the door; " do you suppose, sir," ex- claimed the enraged traveller," that I am to be shut up with a confounded animal to please you ? If the coachman chooses to turn the bear out, 1 11 go on, if not, I shall proceed in a post chaise." Thus the argument continued, till the lord of the whip declared he could not turn the bear out any more than the gentleman, and therefore, if Mr. Musgrave did not like it, he must leave it. This advice Edward took with great pleasure, and retiring to the inn, ordered post horses on to the next stage. THE MAN OF SORROW. 129 The fact was, that the unwelcome guest in the mail, was one of the dancing gentry who amuse Ibiks at fairs, and like the ballet master at the opera house, to this accom- plishment he adJed that of fighting if ne- cessary ; so that his master loving his beasj better than himself, had actually paid to have him conveyed inside the coach, while he was content to ride on the outside, such was the gratitude of ihis fellow to the pooc animal, for ** As Romulus a wolf did rear So HE was dry nursed by a bear That fed him with the purchased prey. Of many a fierce and bloody fray/' The incident was a trifling one in itself^ but there is no knotving: whither trifles may lead, and many were the consequences of this ejectment of our hero. Having taken a hasty breakfast, he pro- ceeded in the chaise, and after travelling the whole of the day, reached the beauti- ful village of just as the dews of night were falling. Q 5 130 THE MAN 0? SORROW. Not being pressed by any very urgent business, and rather fatigued by the men- tal as well as bodily exertions he had un- dergone, he resolved to sleep at the inn, and not proceed on his journey till the fol- lowing morning. He therefore secured his bed, and ha- ving ordered his supper, sat down to reflect fjuietly on the events of the last week ; inf short, according to the recommendation of the learned Dr. Watts, he retraced all his past actions, weighed their merits, consi- dered their faults, and judged their bear- ings ; but upon summing up, he did not feel that internal satisfaction which bis con- science hitherto had used to afford him. What was the action that weighed so heavily upon his mind ? was it the elope- ment? no, not that, there is no sin in love, though love may be the parent of sin ; how- ever, his passion had no offspring of that sort, nor any other, as far as I have heard ; therefore on the score of Harriet hia con- science clearly acquitted him. THl!: MAX OIP SORROW. 1^1 It was from another source his remorse sprang — he had killed a fellow creature, and thoug^h bv the laws of honor, and his country, he was acquitted of every parti- cle of guilt, yet by the laws of nature, h^ was a murderer. The simple Annette, and the simpler Lubin, knew nothing of law, and yet they were morally man and "^ife; Musgrave was exonerated by tiie legislature, but the crime in fact he li^us guilty of; so that the- creation of one being by tht)se innocent lo- vers, and the destruction of another, by our hero, were acts of criminality reversed, for as in the one case, the parries were le- gally guilty xmtliout guilt, so in the other, the murderer was legally acq^uitted witli- out beino" innocent. The law makes nice distinctions-. But to proceed : Edward continued his reflections till he was roused fiom them by the sound of a pt-bbie striking against the window of his room ; imagining that his sitting with hgbt^ in a chamber, witli- & G lD-2 THE MAN OF SORROW. Out having taken the precaution of closing the shutters, was the cause of this attack from some wanton wag en passant^ he rose, and hastily let down the curtain, which effectually concealed him from the obser- vation of straggling wits. In a short time his supper being intro- duced, he took what refreshment he re- quired, and retired to bed without delay. Here on his pillow did he again recall the happy moments he had spent with his Harriet ; here did he in imagination re- trace the smiles she had bestowed upon him, and enjoy in dreams all the pleasures he had felt in pressing her hand to his con- stant heart. If you are one of those animals, denomi- nated by Buff on and several other natural- ists — nieriy you have one girl in your im- agination you hold dearer than any other : don't you feel a sort of fluttering in your left breast, if you happen to meet her ac- cidentally ? a fear of offending her, a dread of avoiding her ? THE MAN OF SORROW. 133 Don't your eyes hang upon her charms, her cheek, her hp, her bosom? and does not conscience whisper it is wrong? yes, but conscience, hke Kemble, has a voice, sxi:eet, not strong, so you curse conscience, and look again. Do you feel a flush on your cheek, and a glowing at your heart when she speaks to you? a pang if she smiles upon any body else, a coldness thrilling through all your veins after having gazed at her, an electrical shock ft'om the touch of her hand, and a transportation to heaven from a smile on her lip? You do — YOU do! Then, my dear reader, concluding that you are a male creature, (if you are not, you will of course read no farther,) you must form some opinion of poor Edward'^ sensations. -" Cum prostrata soporc Urget membra quies U mens sine pondere ludit." Petr. lii sleeping, the enamoured youth fan- 13 if THE MAX OF SORRO^V. cies himself claspino: the girl that Iie^ loves to his breast, flatters himself that he has overcome all difficulties, surly fathers, careful mothers, and worldly guardians. *' For love will hope, when reason would despair." While thehttle angel, ripe for joy, with '^cqaal fervor sleeps herself into happiness, "iand hugging her pillow to her panting bo- som, dreams herself into the arms of her 'constant lover. Poor dear little thing, how disappointed &he must be when she wakes ! But so it is*.funcv drives reason from her seat, and with sleep for her prime minister, tules the brain with tyrannic sway : love is invincible, irresistible^ and immeasur- able: wisdom cannot oppose, valour can- not vanquish it; and when once it pos- sesses the heartj adieu to the counsels of the head. " Secjuentem fiigit — Fugientera seq^uitur." Edward tossed and tumbled in every di- rectioii that bis bed would allow of; and ia THE MAN OF SORKCH". Vsij this state of perturbation did lie remain till the clock struck three, when tired with hh fancied passion, he fell into a profound sleep; what he dreamed of w^orlds would not tempt me even to surmise — may all lovershave similar visions in their slumbers-. " Ne voir que bassiers dans les songes Et soup^onner dans ces rneusonges Les douceurs de la verite." DoRAT. If imagination, how^ever, was to afford him pleasure, reahty had in store a large portion of grief, for judge his feelings, when upon waking in the morning he had the following note put into his hands by a waiter. 1 1 o'clock, night, " Dearest Edward, *' I endeavoured to attract your notice by throwing a pebble against the wimlow of vour sittiiiL' room : I saw vou come into the house from vour clraise, mv mother did not ; we are to leave this at seven to- morrow morning": if you like to risque a second elopement, her treatment 'of me is 136 THE MAX OF SORROW. SO cruel and harsh, that 1 am ready to do any thing to escape from her barbarity. Oh ! Edward, I little thought I ever should be compelled by a parent to act thus. I will not go to bed to night ; but remain in my room till I hear some signal from you ; you will find I can be resolute. — x\dieu — for ever. Harriet Vincent.'' " The servant who attended me will bring you this." *' Hell and fury !^' cried Edward, " why wasn't this delivered to me last night ?" " Why, sir," said a chamber maid, as tall as the monument, with a pair of black €yes, resembling a couple of Wedge- wood's saucers — " The lady gived it to me for you ; but you were gone to bed, so I gi'd it to George to gi you the first thing in the morning." " And where are the ladies?" enquired Mussjrave. *' They have been gone nearly three THE MAN OF SOiUlOW. 137 hours, sir," said the waiter ; " they were otf before seven, it is now just ten.^' *' Then I am a wretch indeed!" ex- claimed the Man of Sorrow; " what must she think of me ! — Did you tell the young lady," continued he, " that you could not get the note conveyed to me?" " No, sir,'' replied the girl, *' I told she you had gotten it — for fear she should be angry with me for not doing us sh^j bid me." ** Then may all the curses of the world light upon you," exclaiu^ed the phrenzied youth ; " what am I to do — how am I to act? — ril follow her to the worlds end — order me a chaise, and some of vour best horses — I'll proceed this instant — 1 ne- ver, never will give her up. — No not if I were sure that every mortal man would be my enemy for pursuing her — I adore her — I have woo'd her — 1 have gained her — our dispositions — our manners agree, and I defy the endeavours of those who 138 THE MAN or SORROW. would part us. — On will I go — for death only shall rob me of my Harriet*. • ** Adjuro nunquam earn me dcserturum Non si cupiundos niilii sciam esse ininiicos ouines homines ; Hanc mihi cxpetivi, coutegit ; conveniunt mores : valcant Qui inter nos di5ci sir?^' cried she, appealing to Musgrave. ** VV^hy so fcr as this, madam, '^ replied he, '' I think wherever the parent's sanc- tion can be given with propriety it should never be withheld/* «* With propriety— mighty well!'' said the mother ; " but what propriety is there in a girl's liking a footman? Why, sir, if a girl was ever so fond of you, and you knew her mother did not wish her to have you, I am sure you would not persuade her, for a minute, to forget her duty to her parent. Why, sir, I would not for the world have a f(X)tman for to be my son-in- law. Her father when he was alive was as honest it tradesman as any in Manchester, and her uncle is at this moment a major m the army/' THE MAN OF SORROW. \5\ ** Really !" said the methodist, '' that makes a difference — a major, is he r'^ " Yes, he is,"' replied the lady, " he is {h'u?n-?najor in a regiment of the line ; so that without no disparagement at ail, a footman is not the husband for her/' Edward as usual had hit upon a wrong topic, and in similar discussions to the^^e did they proceed on their journey, till see- ing the smoke of London not many miles before him, he was much surprized at not having overtaken the Vincents, as he was convinced they could not have travelled with half the speed of the coach. He, therefore, took the first opportunity of enquiring of the coachman the reason of their still continuing behind a carriage that was going so much slower? " Why, sir," said the man, " there is one reason which settles it all. — The post horses run the upper^ and we turned off the common into the loi^^er road, and we shall come into town at Shcreditch, they by Highgate and Tottenham-court Road/' XI i \52 THE MAN OF SORROW. *' Then I am the most unfortunate fel- low under the sun/' exclaimed Musgrave. ** Here again I am foiled in every design of my heart, every wish of my soul. — What time shall we reach London?" *' By four o'clock, sir/' was the an- swer; and in the full contemplation of his misery^ he resumed his seat in the vehicle «nd piocether bar to hi.? THE MAN OF SORROW. 1^7 partaking the pleasures of senatorial alter- cation — the parliament was dissolved. It had melted into " Levis aura ;" and the actors had gone into the country to practise, upon provincial stages^ the parts they were to play in town. But with respect to these political comedians, it has been observed with som.e shrewd- ness, that though many of them are very PROMISING men, there are very few who PEUFOUM even decently. While he was ruminating upon his line of conduct for the evening, the door sud- denly opened, and gaily equipped for a party, an old friend of his entered the coffee-room. The mutual enquiries and answers which passed between Edward and his school- fellow, Jack Milford, are not sufficiently interesting to repeat. Suffice it tlierefore to sav, that Jack after havino* rallied his friend on the elopement, the duel, and all bis other acts of failure, persuaded him to 158 THE MAN OF SORROW. accompany him to an amateur concert in Portman Square, whither he was going with the privilege of introducing a friend. Jack Milford was just two and twenty, of a commanding figure and manner — He was a dasher^ and was known at all the coffee-houses about town; he was the greatest epicure in the world, knew where to seek green fat in a turtle, and bonnes houcJies in a haunch, belonged to eighteen clubs, was intimate with nine aldermen, and always dined at every public dinner in London. One day he was a zealous supporter of the Literary Fund, though he could hardly write ; on another he was anxiously em- ployed in the service of '* The Welsh Charity Children^'^ ihoughhedid not care if they were all starved ; on a third he was forwarding the interests of " The Indi- gent Blind ;" and on a fifth espousing the cause of " Lisolvent Debtors;" and all for the sake of eating and drinking. Fits of the gout, and horrible illnesses THE MAN OF SORROV. 159 were the natural consequences of this conduct, and at twenty-two, Jack IMilford was actually a martyr to his benevolent disposition. Under the patronage of this gentleman, Edward jumped into a hackney coach, and proceeded to the amateur concert, at which, as he really was fond of music, he ilattered himself he should feel some gra- tification. Poor unhappy Musgrave ! nothing but disappointments await you ; howev^er let us be silent for the present, and follow them into the room, where sat assembled all the cognoscenti of the country. i6o THE MAN OF SORROW. CHAP. XL Gentle reader ! were you ever at an -amateur concert? because if you never were you can form no idea of its charms — " When Music, heavenly maid, was young;" she never could have been so tormented as she is in a party of amateurs now that she is come to years of discretion. In the gay assembly into which Edward was now introduced, the fiddlers were amateurs, the Iiost was an amateur, his wife was an amateur, his children were amateurs, the company were amateurs, and the servants were amateurs. In the first place, there were but two drawing rooms upon the floor of this house, and the back drawing room was THE MAN OF ."^ORUOW. fol turned into an orchestra, The front apart- ment was appro{)riated to the audience, who were stuck into rows so closely squeezed together, that when one of the as seized with a tivinge of admira- tion, the twist he or she gave to the body operated upon the whole rank, and they Were immediately put into a general mo» tiou^ like nodding MaiKlariacs upon a chimney pi^ce. Besides three mws of seated coonois* seufs, ther^ were myriads of young men »ot indulged with chairs, who wer^ obliged to stand and admire, till not only their beads were splitting with the noise, but their legs aching with fatigue, and these juvenile judges were so completely wedged in, and so dependent for action one upon another, that *' Quam niultx glomcrantur aves, iibi frigidus aiiuus ** Trans poutura frigat et terris iinmittit aprices." \n a covev like manner, if one had occa- 16^ - THE MAX OF SORROW, sion to leave the room, the whole flio-ht were disturbed to give him way to pass. Thus was arranged the most outre col- lection of animals Edward had ever be- held, for he had never been at Pidcock's or the Tower; and the audience of this concert were only equalled by the crea- tures in those menageries, and only ex- celled by the band of performers who were playing for their amusement. The leader of this band, could not play six notes together correctly; the gentle- man who blew into the top of an oboe, could never make it sound when he Wanted, but always made it emit a hideous squeak when he was particularly anxious to keep it silent. The heroes w^ho wound the /torns, though married men, were not au fait with the instruments, but aided by two c^///;;26f//c bassoon players, produced sounds,, to find a simile for which, would subject me to the censure of my readers. I am THE MAN or SORROAV. 163 iinhappy that the comparison would be mdeiicate^ — Oh! FaiocmihleJ* A gentleman very active with the viohu- cello was scratching the strings till •' His too solid flesh did melt, " Thaw, and resolve iticlf into a dcw»" to the total defiance of time and harmony, and to prove his judgment when the leader of the band, during a solo, called to him — *' Sir, sir—there are ten bars rest here.*' He bawled out, scraping with in- creasd fury, " Rest ! — Psha, what should I rest for ? I ?Lm not tired in the leasts I thank you 1'' Oh, btest shades of Mozart and Hart' dety why did not your canonized bones re- sume their wonted action, and rise in the centre of these murderers of your music ! At length a miss, with a nose of an ex- traordinary formation, came forward to sing ; with her nose 1 do not mean to find 1G4 THE MAN OF SORROW. fault; but as that excellent author Col- man observes, *' Though the prejudice goes •* Very strongly iu favor of wearing a nose, " Yet a nose should not look like a snout-'" Now hers certainly had a snouti^h appearance; but as ladies do not sing through the nasal proinoatory in general, the audience looked below to the mouth, which iri justice to the nose I naust observe was full as frightful, if not more so. At jength silence being obtained^ with a pair of hands like bunches of radishes, she ran over the keys of the piano forte, and taken in the " Jack Ketch" sense of the \\ ord, she executed the air in a complete style. But her voice, when it came, was so divine, that every body in the room would have rejoiced if the gods had kept it entirely to themselves. She squalled to that degree, that the lemonade glasses vibrated with the noise* the candles actually melted at the sound. THE MAN" OF SOU ROW. IGS and amateurs roared bra-jci, brava^ at tlie same time twisting their faces into the contortions of a society of sick monkies. She curtsied as she finished, and retired. Another symphony succeeded, Beetho- ven's name resounded through the room, and the poor master was mutilated, while one miss, closinsr her eves, cried to a beau next her—'- Mon dieu, how delightful ;" and another, with a look which stamped her contempt, exclaimed — '' How charm- ingly Miss Laurina played that con- certo." In the midst of all this harmony, Ed- ward was not a little surprized by the en- trance of Lady llosemore, decked out in all the grandeur of diamonds and drapery; a bow of black crape, pinned in the centre of her dress, indicated mourning for her seventeenth cousin, Savage, whose death she had only heard of in the morning. Her affliction for the loss of a relation was, however, not sufficient to prevent her at- tending so gay a party. She saw Mus* 166 THE MAN OF SORROW. grave in a moment, and after exclaiming—- " My God ! who jjhould have expected to have seen you here ! — Why, I thought you were in prison for shooting Savage — Tm sure you deserve it'^ — she seated herself among a party of her acquaint- ance, and amused herself by pointing out our hero as a disappointed lover, and the murderer of a man o fashion. The whisper ran round the room, and the unfortunate Edward was as usual be- trayed into an unpleasant dilemma, by his fate, from which he contrived, however, to extricate himself by leaving the party, in which flight (with difficulty effected) Jack Milford accompanied him. Edward would not have had Lady Rose- more see him in a party for the world, it must have the appearance of a total want of feeling towards Harriet, and towards the man he had killed, and how to explain away his conduct he knew not. Milford proposed some supper, and at Stevens's they took refreshment. He 4 THE MAN OF SORROW. 167 talked of the claret, and it was called for ; glass succeeded glass, bottle followed bottle, till imperceptibly the facetious Jack, and the distressed Edward, became so ex- tremely gay, that at three o'clock in the morning it was thought expedient by the waiters to conduct them to a hackney coach they had in attendance. Having seated themselves, the man was desired to proceed to Ludgate-hill, but they had not made much way on their jour- ney before Milford proposed knocking up a female friend of his, who lived in Port- land street, and who, though he had not paid her a visit for nearly two months ; would he was sure give them a bed ; or at least part of one, observing that it would be a much better plan than going into the city at that late hour. Edward bv far too a<^reeal)lc to disacrree to any proposal, readily assented, and the coach was ordered to a particular number in Portland Street, to which point hasten- 168 • THE MAN OF SOliROW. ing with all speedy they soon reached the desired spot in safety. To prevent any disturbance, they dis- charged the'njdj-jf/, and having ascertained the door, Jack thundered at it most vio- lently — no ansuer was given — a second rap assailed the portal " Vastis tremit ictibus." This had not the desired effect — a third did the business. The bolts were drawn, and the door softly opened by a female, who softly enquired, what their business might be ? — Jack softlij answered, by softly squeez- ing the maid in his arms, softly printing a kiss upon her cheek, and softlij pushing her back, he softly entered the passage — (the house passage.) Edward followed his leader, and the woman immediately, with a voice re- sembling thunder, as closely as her looks did lightning, called the watch — rattles THi: MAN OF SORROW. 169 were sprung — '^ Thieves— thjeves !" was the word, and the door was shortly sur- rounded by the guardians of the night. Jack, ahvays expert, bolted through the back door, and, sobered by the alarm, scaled the garden wall, and dropped into a mews at the back of the house. Edward pursued by misfortune, in- toxicated as lie was, ran up the bed-room stairs, persuaded that his companion was safely closetted with his c}i):re ain'ie^ the mistress of the house; when what was his horror, his astonishment and surprize, on his reaching the top of the flight, to find himself standing, or rather reeling before his own, his adorable Harkiet Vincent ! This was the climax of his miseries, and without waiting for any thing more than a shriek of horror from the lovely girl, ho rushed down stairs, and was given iii charge to the attending watchmen. The truth of the matter was, that the house had changed its inhabitants since Milford had visited it; aod it had been hired that VOL. I I 170 THK MAN OF SORROW, very day, by i\Irs, Vincent, for her resi- dence during her stay in town. JBut strange to say, Mrs. Vincent her- seh^ at the time of this confusion was nut at home. She had been invited to a ball and supper, by a friend, on her arrival ,ia town (to which Harriet for many reasons did not choose to accompany her) and she ■w^s not then returned from it. This accounts for the door of the house being opened by the drowsy servant, who expecting her mistress naturally threw wide the portal and admitted the enemy. The watchmen, however, were taking charge of Edward, who by this time was in a state of much greater sobriety than he was at his first entrance into the house, when the heavenly disposition of Harriet displayed itself in glowing colors. Insulted, outraged, and abused as she was by the conduct of Musgrave, resolved as she was never to speak to him again, after behaviour so grossly indicative of a total forsretfulness of her — even with these TKE MAX OF SORPcOW. 171 feelings, the amiable girl couid not en- -dure, that he should suffer confinement, e^'en one night, in what she imagined a pri- son. Thus it was, with that goodness for which she was always celebrated, at the risk of her character, at the hazard of her fair fame, did she rush down stairs, and by declaring to the men who had her Ed- M'ard in custody, *' that he was an ac- quaintance, whose misconduct only pro- <:eeded from inebriety — did she release him r He was immediately liberated, and with the ardour of his dispositi-on would have thanked her for her benevolence on his knees; but resuming her character, and acting upon the feelings of wounded de- licacy, when she had followed the dictates of noble friendship, she ordered the door to be closed upon him, and after ex- torting a promise from the servant (the only one then in the house) that she w^ould not mention the circumstance to her mo- I 2 17^ THE MAN OF SORROW. Iher, with a heart bursting with grief al Musgrave's conduct, she retired to h^ room. What a multitude of reflections intruded themselves at this moment upon the un- happy girl's imagination ! — what an escape had she experienced in being parted from a man, who in four short days had so en- tirely forgotten her, that regardless of de- cency and prop/iety, he could launch into the most riotous and licencious extremes of (lebaucherv. But even then her forgiving spirit whispered something like ajustification of his conduct — ?ilight his sorrows not have tempted him to have recourse to wine ; and might he not have swallowed more than prudence dictated, only to avoid re- flection ? — it might be so; but that he should force himself into her mother's house, and into her presence, while in a state of intoxication, was a circumstance she could not account for ; for she did not miderstand that his visit was paid by mis- THE MAN OF SORROW. 17 3 take, and least of all did she suspect it was intended for another female. If anv thins: can be adduced to check the ra^ for drinking:- so detesiablv preva- lent amonsT the vonni^' men of the dav, surely the consideration of consequences miijht have some effect. '^ O that men should put an enemy into their mouths to steal a\vay their brains 1 that we should with joy, revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts !'' While there is a gratification in drinking", for the satisfaction of thirst, or even while the taste of wine is pleasant, there maij he an excuse for swallowins: it ; but when it- self has robbed the votary of i3acchus, (as a drunkard ts termed,) of ihe power of dis- crimination, nay, when the very flavor of the liquor itself becomes nauseous, what excuse can the wittiest bring for sotlisli- ness? Does it improve the person?— no, what figure is so disgusting as that of an invetc- 1 3 174 THE MAN or SORROW. rate drinker? — Does it add lustre to wit? • — no, for what character is so nearly allied to folly as a man intoxicated? — Does it benefit the constitution?^ — no, for where is the drunk^ird who is a healthy man? Are not the brightest talents made of nothing worth by perpetual intoxication? Is not the statesman degraded, and the wit rendered contemptible by a constant and habitual use of wine ? Have we not exam- ples before us, where every earthly quali- fication is marred by it, and where poverty and ignominy are the reward of exertions weakened by its infhience, which used with. sobriety and temperance, would deserve, and might have received, the meed of ho- nour, and the wreath of fame ? The madman is a mischievous member of society, yet in the knowledge of his disease, we possess the power of restrain- ing his fury; but the wisest and best of men, heated with wine,^ may in the hour of intoxication commit not only acts of folly but of vice ; the secret of his, £i iead THT. MAN OF SORROW. IT''^ may be betrayed, the honor of his misU'ess vilified, nav — there have been instances where in the heat of drunkenness, murder has been committed l)V the most virtuous of characters. In the very instance before ns, Edward 'Musgrave, w-ith a heart wholly Harriet's, his fate actually entwined with her's, with- out a thought but for her happiness, with- out a wish but for her comforl. by the force of wine so completely committed himself, that she, wdth a spirit highly commenda ble before her mother returned, resolved >'E- VER TO SEE HIM AGAIN ! ! ! Poor Edward himself was not very happy in his mind as he walked seriously to the city, and it was ^vith no small dif- ficulty he could be persuaded by Jack Milford, who had arrived at the Belle Sau vage before him, and was waiting for him, to go to rest. He had offended Harriet, his conduct must corroborate his apparent neglect of her at the inn where they met ; and when I 4 176 THE MAN OF SORROW. he considered all tlie ciFcumstances tlia£ had occurred since his parting with her at Gretna Green, his brain was actually at- fectedrhe raved of her, he cried, and torehis hair, he was uncertain how to act, he had no rival — should he again apply to her mo- ther? no, she would still be obdurate— what was to be done? he at length re- solved : he was first, according to his pro- mise, to accompany Miss Greenford, his travelling companion, to Chelsea in the morning, and on his return to town, he would write an explanatory letter to Har- riet, which, as he had, in his misfortune, discovered her residence, he imagined might easily be delivered to her clandes- tinely. He therefore retired to rest after taking leave of his friend, and remained in bed, though without once closing his eyes till nine in the morning; when descending to the parlour, he desired the waiter to tell the young lady, that if it was agreeable to her, he would take breakfast with her, as THE MAN OF SORROW. 177 he thought it expedient they should in some degree become acquainted with each other, before they set out upon their little journey. They accordingly met, and she, with the candour of youth, related her story to him, and informed him that she was the daugh- ter of a clergyman in the north of England, who, from the largeness of his f.imily, was compelled to pl.ice some of them in the most elegible situations he coutd pro- cure for them, that this was the hrst time of her leaving home, and that she was par- ticularly obliged to Musgrave for the trou- ble he was about to take upon her account. In such conversation did their time pass, when having forwarded her luggage by an errand cart, she set out under the protec- tion of our hero for her new situation. It was almost eleven when tliev left the inn, and the girl, naturally delighted and surprised with the grandeur and bustle of the metropolis, seemed to reefer tiiat they had not occasion to traverse raore of it, 15 178 THE MAN OF SORRO\r. than came under their notice in their pro-^ gress to Chelsea. Upon reaching Piccadilly, Edward, tO' gratify her de3ire of seeing^ entered the Gretn-park at the gate nearest the Basin, and proceeded by the ranger's house to-- wards Grosvenor- place. It was during their march up Constitu-- tion-hill, that the wind blowing rather freshly, a tippet, which was tied on the lady's neck, blew aside, and Edward with' his usual gallantry, without letting go the arm he held, adjusted it with the one he had at liberty, and in this tender mode of accommodating the iady, he was suddenly surprised at a turn in the walk by Mrs» Vincent and her daughter ! ! 1 Here was his luck — Harriet turned pale and had nearly fainted in her mother's arms ; he coloured, trembled, and without noticing them, passed on. He could not resist, he stopped, looked back, so did Harriet, and with an expres- sion of countenance that would hav« mt MAX OF gORROTV, 179 ftiielted a heart of stone, caught away her eyes the moment they met Edvvard's. ** You know those ladies," said Miss Greenff^rd, " do not let me prevent j^our joining them I be^, I am sure I can find thy way/* '* Know them/' exclaimed Musgrave, ** know them — Oh—yes, yes I do indeed.*' ** I must beg," replied she, " that you will leave me and follow them.'^ '' No, rnadam,'^ said Edward, '' it must not be ; what will she think, what suppose, that her Edward is a villain— but to Provi- dence alone I trust to undeceive her.'* He was no longer an agreeable compa- nion to Miss Greenford, not a word did he speak, he thought her the most odious creature he had ever seen, and when they reached the door of the house into which siie was going, he bade her good morning, without exactly knowing whether he stood upon his head or his heels, and turning from the steps he set off towards town with 1-6 180 THE MAN OF SORROW. the most agonizing sensations he had ever experienced. (( -iEstuat ingcns Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque insania luctii, Et furiis agitatus amor & conscia Virtus. JEN, lib. 12. ver. 666. THE MAN OF SORROW. 181 CHAP. Vli. Perhaps nevervvas man so pursued by misfortune as our hero ; criminated by the most potent of all e\'idence, ocular de- monstration; he had twice in the course of twelve hours been thrown under the ob- servation of his lovely Harriet, and in such situations as made it impossible for her to doubt his guilt. The former incident occurred while in a state of inebriation, and by pleading folly he might have obtained forgiveness, but here, in sober sadness^ did she behold him in the broad noon of day, with the greatest familiarity, and the most perfect jioncha" lajice, adjusting the tippet of a young lady, rS^' THX MAN OP SORROM^. (and a pretty one too,) hanging on hisarnt in the Green-park. What an insult to her feehngs, what a* proof of falsehood, to have lost the recol-- lection of a girl so fascinating as she must be conscious she was, in so short a time, and with a fickleness amounting to villainy, to be sporting off another in one of the most tonish lounges in London ! Her mother did not fail to enlarge uport^ this subject ; and however unwilling Har^ riet might be to concede to any thing which implicated her Edward's honour, facts- are stubborn things, and what she had- ^een, could hardly be opposed as a defence against her parent's allegations. This was Mrs. Vincents triumph; now it was that she expatiated upon the miracu- lous preservation of her child from the clutches of such a villain as Musgrave, at the same time adducing all the mishaps which delayed the consummation of the ce- remony, as the wonderful interposition of ai\ all seeing Providence, who with a oareful- ness a disobe(^ent mortal hardly deserved, had snatched from ruin the votary of de- ception, and the vietim of vice. In this manner did she exdt over the feehngs of the broken-hearted Harriet, w-ho trembled at the propriety of her mother's argumxents; to be deceived in Edward — was it possible he could be false? she still hoped not. When she recolJecfed the conversation that had passed at the Cottage between them, when enfolded in his arms they had sealed them with a kiss, the solemn ratitica- tion of their engagements to each other, and recalled the words with which he pleaded his passion, when she retraced the glow of animation that hghted up his coun- tenance as he gazed upon her, she could not imagine that the ingenuous Musgrave could ever be a traitor. For him and his feelmgs there is hardly a mortal hardened enough not to shed a tear; his heart was actually breaking, he lS4fr THE MAN OF SORROW.- spoke unconsciously, talked of Harriet^ looked wildly, and by his actions induced every body at the inn to in>agine him dis- ordered in his senses; at length having in. some degree calmed the tumult in his breast, he sat down and vyrote the follow-; ing letter to Harriet: Belle Sauvage Tim, Ludgate-hilL *' My dearest Harriet, '' Plow shall 1 address you, how con-- vince you of my iimocence? appearances- are strongly against me : you know my ge- neral luck, you will make allowances for ill. fortune, and not den}^ me the mercy 1 im- plore ; O Harriet if 1 were to write volumes 1 coidd not express my feelings at this mo- ment — my conduct last night, my appear- ance this morning — good God what must you think of me? angel of goodness I am. not the wretch T seem to be ; bv letter I. cannot explain the circumstances which will exoutiate me ; but we shali meet, and then I shali be able to convince you, in- THE HAN OF SORROW. 185 iieed, indeed, best of girls, I am, as I eve? shall be. Yours inviolably, and derotedlv, Edward jMusgrave." *' Cannot you contrive an arrangement for an iiUervievv,'^ Having finished this epistle, he began to reflect on the best method of getting it conveyed, and for this purpose planned a thousand schemes, each of which, after de- liberation, he found to be impracncable; at length he recollected that Harriet had a friend resident in a street near that in which their present habitation was fixed, on whose honor he determined to rely; but the same reasons which kept him from the Mncent's, prevented his appearing at the Hammond's, therefore this letter to be conveyed to Harriet mu^t first be given to !Miss Hammond, and the person who de- li veered it 7HUSI not be himself. What was now to doner here he was at fault, he knew nobody of their acquaint- i85 THE MAN OF SORROW. ance, none of their connexions, and it was^ at this juncture, that by the merest acci- dent in the worlds a gen.tlennan entered the cofTee-room whom he recollected 07iee to have seen with them and the Vificent^s. They mutually saluted each other, and as Edward was on: the point of ordering. dinner, he observed, that if it was agree- able, they might dine together: to this the other replying in the affirmative, they sat down in the same box, and while the repast was preparing, Edward began to- beat about the points he had to enforce to his companion. This friend, whose name was Wilmore, was, as it happened, going that very even- ing to a party at Hammond's, where doubt- less the Vincent's would be; this know- ledge gained, Musgrave after dinner broke his mind to him, and he with all the readi- ness that characterises youth, instantly caught the design, and volunteered his ser- Tices as the iNIercury of the business. To his care then was the dispatch conf- lilE MAN or SORROTV. ISJ tided, and Edward's heart did not fkitter a little, as he saw him leave the coffee-room on his embassy, which, however, he would not suffer him to do tiii he had promised to return after the party, ar.d report progress. To describe Edwards anxiety, or to ac- count for the methtOii bv which he wasted time till half past twelve, would be only to tire the reader with reflections — suffice it to say, that as the dial j:)ointed to the mid- way figure between the last hour of night, and the first of morning, his eyes were blessed with the sight of vVilmore entering the room with the smile of triumph on his countenance. " Has she got it :'^ exclaimed Miisgrave, *' Yes, by Jupiter, and has consented to meet you. ' ''• To meet mer" cried he. *' Yes, to-morrow morning, with Miss Hammond in Kensington-gardens at eleven o'clock, ' replied Wilmore ; *' you are a lucky dog; she is the sweetest girl in Ea- .|ope> and she loves you," ISS THE MAX OF SORROW^. " Bless her, bless lier/' whispered EcT- ward ! " she is anaijoel/' " And what do you think of Lucy Ham- mond?" said Wihnoi'e. " Oh she is anotl:>er angel," cried he, she is the angel of goodness^ and will meet her reward in heaven.^' " I hope on earth first,*' said Wilmore. " I caught an opportunity/' continued he, " of speaking to her alone, and I simply- asked her, if she was in the confidence of Miss Vincent, her answer was yes, I asked her if she would give her the letter, her answer was yes again ; so that though two negatives make an affirmative, two affirma- tives do not make a negative." " True,*' cried Edward, enchanted with the prospect of the meeting, "well, and what then ?" " Why then,'' said Wilmore, " I gave her the note, and joined the party ; she called Harriet \ incent out of the room, and of course gave her the letter, for while we were at supper, Lucy, sitting next to THE MAN OF SORROW. l%0 T09e, whispered the message in answer, which I have delivered to you."' '' And to-morrow then, i shall see my dear, dear girl again,^^ said Musgrave. " To be sure you wiil,^' replied Wilmore, " aud as you are to be with her early, 1 would advise you to retire to rest directly, it is now late, and eleven is fixed for the hour, be there before your time, for punc- tualltij in love is tardiness ; so heaven bless you, and prosper you, in your undertak- ino' " " Ten thousand thanks, my good sir," said Musgrave, taking his hand, " I shall never be able to repay you for this kind- ness." " Well then," said Wilmore, " I must be like Lucy Hammond, and meet my re- ward in a Letter worlds for the present, how- ever, good night : I have no doubt that you will be able to cancel all these obliQ:ations by coming down to a house I have got in Eerkshire, aud spending a few weeks with wo TBE MAX OF SORROW me, we shall then be equally indebted to each other." In. these, and similar acknowledg'ements, did they spend the last ten minutes of the time they were together, and when they parted, Edward retired to rest with a heart considerably lighter than it was when he rose in' the morning, and elated with the idea of the interview with his angelic girl, after desiring to be called by nine o'clock, he fell into a profound sleep, undisturbed bv sad reflections, or unpleasantdreaois. When the hour arrived at which he had desired to be awakened, the servant who •officiated as lark to rouse him from his slumbers, euter^il his room, and Edward having hastily made his toilet, proceeded to breakfast, when his anticipated happi- ness was turned to the deepest sorrow, by observing it to be th^ most rainy morning* that he had ever beheld. This put an end to the promised meet- ings the ladies could not, even rf they h^ THE MAK OF SORROW. 191 the wish, venture to Kensington -gardens in such inclement weather; what wag therefore the best plan to pursue ? some- thing he thought was necessary to do, ta avert the ill fortune that still haunted him : at length he resolved upon visiting the street in which the Hammonds resided. For this purpose, envelopping himself in a great coat, and arming himself with an umbrella, he repaired to the vicinity of their house, and in passing, as if accident- ally before the windows, caught a glimpse of Lucy Hammond, who at the same mo- ment saw him. Conscious of having been noticed, he did not know how to act, whether to con- tinue his perambulation, or to return qui- etly to the Belle Savauge and see whether the ladies would condescend to write ^.o him any account of their movements. While he was in this state of doubt, he- was accosted by a gentleman he immedi- ately recognised to be young Mr. Ham- mond's tutor, who finding himself fcaiem- 192 THE MAN OF SORROW. bered by our hero, told him that he had a note for him from a lady. " My dear sir/' said Edward, " I really am most particularly obliged to you/* " Oh don t mention it," replied the tutor, *' here is the note, and Miss Hanjmond desires me to say how sorrv she is that the weather prevented her going out as she in tended: there is no answer," added he^ " therefore I will not detain you, sir, but wish you a very good morning/' *' A thousand thanks, sir," said Edward, you will give my best love to the ladies.'^ " Certainl}^ sir,"^ was the last words the gentleman uttered, and the moment he had turned the corner of the street, Ed- ward with a natural impatience, broke open the note, and to his great disappoint- ment read as fallows : '•' You must be well convinced how very unpleasant this clandestine correspon- dence is to my friend and myself; we in- treat you as you value our happiness to give up any further mtercourse \ we are THE MAN OF SORROW. 193 going to day to the Cottage, and will if possible contrive to see you there/* Lucy Hammond/' To the Cottage, said Edward, then I w'lW proceed homeward to day, and by gettii^cr down at the village before them, prevent the suspicion that , they are the causes of my going there at all. This resolution, formed on the impulse of the moment, was as hastily put in exe- cution ; he returned immediately to the Belle Sauvage, and ordering a post chaise, settled his account, packed up his baggage, and set off for his father^s house, whence he had been absent exactly a week. ••] VOL. I. FSi THE MAX OF SORROW. CHAP. Xlll. Edward arrived at home about four in the afternoon, and his father, whom he had made acquainted with the cause of his ab- sence, received him with open arms ; after the first enquiries and salutations were past, the old gentleman, however, could not re- frain from saying a few words on the sub- ject of his conduct. " My dear boy,^' exclaimed the parent, " there are two parts of your expedition to Scotland which I disapprove extremely, the one is the undertaking of it at all, and the other is the failing of it as you did un- dertake ; I like every thing to succeed, let it be what it may." " However," continued he, " the warmth of your temper certainly got the better of your discretion in this in- THE WAN OF SORROW. 19> Stance, for had you applied to me instead of to Mrs. Vincent, 1 could have settled the business in a very brief manner, at least so I imagine.'^ " Indeed, sir,'' said Edward. " Yes, my son," replied Mr, Musgravr, " von should have made a confidant of me ; there is nobodv who has the interest of a voune: man at heart so much as his fa- ther. nobodv is there therefore, who can be trusted with so much reliance ; yes, Ed- ward, had vou only informed me of vour wishes upon the subject, I am almost cer- tain that the mother of Miss Vincent would not have withheld lier (Consent to vour marriag:e an liour, she certainlv could have had no reasonable grounds for so doing." " And is it too late now, sir r" enquired the anxious son. ** To be plain with you Edward, no: it may be arranged noiv^ it shall be arrang*3d *' Ten thousand thousand blessings mv dear father/' cried the enraptured boy. k2 196 IHE MAN OF SORROW. '* Is Mrs. Viucent here at present,'^ en- quired the old gentlemaji. '-' She will be here, sir, in the course of the day,'^ replied he. *' Well, Edward," continued his father, ** then we will send this letter to the Cot- tage, which I wrote in readiness, in case you should approve my plan ; believe me the communication I here propose to make, will settle all differences between vou and Mrs. Vincent, read what I have said/' Edward took up the paper, and read as follows : " Madam, " Understanding an attachment exists between your daughter and my son, and having no wish but his happiness, as I con- clude your sentiments with regard to Miss Vincent are nearly similar, I think if there is a possibility of accommodating matters for their marriage without a violation of pro- priety or reason, it would be advisable by all means to have it effected ; for that pur- THE MAN OF SORROW. 197 pose, madam, I have a communication to make, which, 1 think, will throw a new light upon the subject, and warrant our proceeding in the business, as I know no- thing would give me greater pleasure than a connexion between our families; I have to request a meeting on the subject as early as it may suit your convenience, and in the hope that we may be more closely allied, I have the honor to subscribe my- self, with the greatest respect, Your very humble servant, James Musgraye.'* This letter opened a new world to Ed- ward on the subject of his father's inten- tions and circumstances with respect to himself; he was at a loss to conceive what incident there could be, which his f^ither had so long and so closely concealed from him, which could so materially affect the Vincents, a family almost strangers to him, as to alter their decisions and arrannfements. Careless, however, of every thing but K 3 198 TilE MAN OF SORROW. the existence of such a circumstance, Ed- ward himself was the bearer of the letter to the Cottage. With what pleasing, yet melancholy ideas, did the sight of that cottage inspire the sanguine young man ! it was under that roof he had passed the most delightful hours of his life, it was from under that roof he had stolen the sweetest girl in the world, and it was under that roof that they were soon to be reconciled. The anticipation of this event gave him the greatest delight ; he began to imagine all the scenes which avou Id take place af- ter their re-union, when he should enjoy the society of the angelic girl under the sanction of her mother, when he might without fear or disguise avow his attach- ment with an open boldness, which he had n-ever even in his days of happiness dared to do. The evening wore apace, and at about nine o'clock, the following note, in answer to Mr. Musgrave's letter, announced the THE MAN OF SORROW. 199 arrival of the Vincents at the village, its contents were these words: *' Mrs. Vincent presents her best com- pliments to Mr. Musgrave, she cannot say any thing upon the subject of his letter, till she has had a conference with him ; the pleasure of seeing him, she shall have, if convenient, at seven o'clock to-morrow evening, either at his house, or the Cot- tage, which ever may suit his convenience better." *- ■ CottaL^e, Dec. 15, ISO . If the reader has a fertile imagination, he will readily conceive the rapture with which Edward received these few words, and his pleasure was not a little encreased by his father repeating the assurances he had before given him, that the communi- cations he should make at the meetins: would be decisive, and that the result of their conversation would be favourable to his hopes and wishes. Still, however, he could not imagine K 4 200 THE MAN OF SORROW. what it could be, that was to have so much weight with them ; nor how his father could have any connexion with their family ; he determined at any rate patiently to wait the event, and by different stratagems suc- ceeded in wasting the day till dinner time, without seeing Harriet, -whom he con- cluded was confined to the house by the badness of the weather, as he had not caught one glimpse of her in the garden. Dinner being over, Edward's heart beat for the interview, which it was settled was to take place at Musgrave's house. It was now six — IVIrs. Vincent was to call at seven, and Edward proceeded to his room to adonize for the meeting, in which voperation he had Rot busied himself many minutes when a violent noise, followed by the tnost dreadful shrieks, assailed his ears. What the uproar meant, he was at a loss even to imagine, and rushing down stairs to enquire the cause, judge his horror and astonishment on entering the dinner par- lour, to behold the parent he had a few THE MAN OF SORROW. 201 minutes before left in perfect health — a -tlFELESS CORPSE ! ! ! So it was — an apoplectic fit had seized the old gentleman, and in an instant the vital breath was gone ; he had fallen from his chair, and was, when Edward entered the room, lying on the ground, the servants surrounding him chafing his temples, and rubbing his hands, endeavouring to reca!! departed animation; but it was all over, life had left him, and the wealth of worlds could not restore him ! Edward's distress was at first counter- balanced by his astonishment — he could not believe it possible. His misery ap- peared too great to be credited ; but when the whole extent of his affliction burst upon his mind, madness took possession of him, force could not restrain him. lie seized the cold hand of his dead father, and pressed it to his lips, caught the old man's body in his arms, and imprinted a thousand kisses upon his chilling forehead. The cheek was still warm — be felt it — he K 6 20? THE MAN OF SORROW. thought his father was not dead — he press- ed his hand — the hand that had nursed him, fed him, fostered him ; but the old . man could not feel it. He was cold — cold — cold. The surgeon who had been sent for at this moment arrived ; Edward flew to him, implored him to use his skill. He accord- ingly endeavoured to op)en a vein, but all was fruitless — it was past recalling. The soul of Musgrave had winged its flight to heaven ! Nothing could persuade the unhappy youth to leave his father's body — ^force alone effected the separation ; and then everv moment that he was left alone he would steal to the chamber door where the body lay, and call upon him as if he thought he could awaken him. For he did love his father with his whole heart and soul — He knew, he felt, his loss would be a heavy one to him. What a reverse in one short hour!— all the prospects of a reconciliation with the THE MAN OF SORROW. 203 Vincents blighted — the parent he adored sunk into the silent sleep of death ; and Edward, from an idolized child, transformed into an isolated being, without a relation that he knew of to protect him from th^ craft of the world, or the rude storms of adversity. AVhen the surgeon, who was the only One of the neighbours who had been ad- mitted, advised Edward to search for a will, if there was one in existence, the wretched young man spurned at the idea, till considering that some wish of his fa- ther's with respect to his funeral might be contained in it, consented to examine his escrutoires. Accordingly, with the assistance of the medical man, he looked over every drawer and every paper of his deceased parent ; hut among none of the collections could they discover the object of their st;arcb, concluding therefore that there ec'^^snowill, they relinquished the pursuit ; and Ed- ward gave the necessary directions for the k6 20i THE MAN OF SORKOW. solemn ceremony of interment, with as much calmness and resolution as he was able to command; but from the time that his father's corpse was stretched in the coffin till the hour of the funeral, never for one moment did this poor broken- hearted boy leave the bier, except when the hours denoted it was bed time. Sleep was an utter stranger to him ; he could think of nothing but his father— his only friend was gone, and he had no one now in the world who cared for him. At length the dreadful day arrived when the corpse of Mr. Musgrave was to be lowered into the grave, the dark and nar- row tenement prepared alike for peasants and for princes. Tefore the moment came when the attendants were to fix the coffin lid for ever over the face of his parent, Edward bedewed his cheek with the tear of unfeigned sorrow, a jewel worthy of a monarch's crown — a gem inestimable in its value. — Poor wretch of sorrow — to lose thy parent — and at such a moment too, when * THE MAN OP SORROW. 205 the cup of happiness was lifted to thy lips! The remark made in the early part of this volume applies here again, the contrast, if possible, made the grief more potent. The solemn procession left the house and proceeded to the church, Edward had not courage to follow it ; but as soon as the mourners returned he took an affec- tionate leave of them, and attended bv the surgeon we have mentioned before, set off for town, whither he was called bv the necessary forms of administration to his iate father's property. These be went through during the course of the next three or four davs, which he spent at the house of the mo- ther of his companion. To describe the pQignanc}^ of his grief, or the strength of his feelings, requires an abler pen than mine ; and as I am con- scious of my inability to do them justice, I will avoid an exposure of my weakness by the attempt. 906 THE MAN OF SOHROW. While, therefore, he is indulging in hrs woe, we will recur for a moment to Mary Williams, of whom we have heard nothing l^i nee Savage^s departure from the village, in the month of May, preceding the prt- sent December. THE MAN OrSOllROW. ^07 CHAP. XIV. What a horrid reflection must it be to a man (if he reflect at all) to consider himself the seducer of virtue, and the de- spoiler of innocence ! such must have been Savage's feelings whenever he gave a retrospective glance at his own conduct. Mary Williams, had she never seen Jmn^ might have been a peaceful inhabitant of the village without one care to disturb her repose, one sorrow to interrupt her hap* piness. It will no doubt be observed, that the fault was her own. — I must say not entire- ly — I am far from vindicating her con- duct, not because I think her morally guilty, but because 1 am afraid of being accounted immoralijf so myself; and yet SOS TUE MAN OF SORROW. with all my timidity upon the occasion, I am unwilling to give her up. I know there are many elderly ladies, who curl up their countenances intoa sneer of contempt at an action like this, and say they have no notion of such vi/e doings^ who the next hour v\ ill retire to an ap- pointment in the garden with a young footman, in v/hose solacing embraces they will find excuses for depraved vice, and systematic sin.* But recollect, my tabbies, Mary had at least the excuses of youth and inexperi- ence on her side ; her heart was free — she gave it to Savage, who to all appearance gave his to her in return. Recollect she loved him, she was elated — they were to part the next day for a long period; re- collect all this, and you will find some ex- cuses for Mary. It was a misdeed done from the warmth of passion ; she did not know the world, and therefore imagined » Ch— t— sy.. THE MAN OF SORROW. 209 where there were obhgations on one side, there naturally would be gratitude on the other; she chose to command his affection as well as deserve it, and thus it was the unsophisticated girl yielded up her honor in barter for Jiis love. Let us not reproach her — the hour of retribution was at hand; she had sorrows to undergo, mortifications to endure, the man who had seduced her from the paths of virtue had quitted the only place vv'here she could have anv ccntroul over him — lie was gone to mix in the gay, the fa- shionable world, in parties and brilliant assemblies, where thousands of girls hand- somer, cleverer, and richer tlian Mary, would be anxious to possess him for a hus- band ; he would forget that she was in ex- istence — and when he saw the counte- nance of beauty turned towards him with a smile, he would as naturally be attracted to it as the needle to the pole. With these ideas Mary's heart could not be very free from pain, and if eyes speak 210 THE MAN OF SORROW. truth (and I am much inclined to think they do) her's told the sorrovvs she en- dared — she was sad and wretched. She watched the hours — called on Sa- vage — she could not sleep—she prayed-^ listened, thought she heard his voice-^ called on him again. — It was not him — it was the storm that whistled through the trees — the rain that pattered hard against her chamber casement, and yet she conti- nued to call on him — " Quel Rosignol, che si soave plagne Forse suo* figli, o sua cara consorte, Di dolcezza ciupie il cielo, e le campague Con tante note si pietose, e scorle.* The day after the accomplished man of pride left the village, there had been a «torm ; the house of Mary's father had but a narrow escape — the tree that stood be- fore the door was shivered by the light- ning, and the woodbine twisted round the * SonneUo xxx. Pet. THE ma:n of sorrow. si 1 porch was blighted, killed — emblem of its wounded mistress. Like thee sweet woodbine is the weep- ing maid — struck by the withering blast of desolation — alike ye droop — alike ex- pire I Man— man, proud lord of the crea- tion, look here and shudder ! — these are thy works— a lovely girl, all mirth, all happiness, all innocence— gone— lost for ever!— her only chance, her seducer's ho- nor — A mighty staff for sin to lean upon I For some weeks after Savage's depar- ture, she retained something like her usual cheerfulness ; but when two months had elapsed, and no tidings had arrived of him — not one word—one line to comfort her, she sunk into a despondency, which her father noticed ; but which, as he at- tributed it only Xq loye, he appeared not to observe. For hours would she sit in her room, with her hair hanging loosely over her neck, her pallied cheek reclined upon her 212 THE MAN OF SORROW. hand, and in her solitude, with a book, endeavour to restore her mind to its wonted serenity. Now, reader, what book was it she had chosen ? — Was it the Monk?--No! * Little's Poems ? — No ! *t* Moore's Odes and Epistles ?--No! The Miseries of Human Life? — No I The Comforts ? — No ! What book could it have been ? The Monk she had never read ; Little's Poems never heard of; Moore's Odes had * There is really— " Multum in Parvo," wliich she must have understood ! t f^f/e Edinburgh Review, No ]6. •— Itwas this R-evicw that gave rise to a duel between Mr. Moore and Mr. Jeffreys, the editor ; the combatants met, but were prevented doing one another any pre. judice, by being apprehended, and brought before the magistrates at Bow-street ; where, upon examina- tion, their pistols proved to be loaded not with balls* but with PELLETS OF PAPER. — On this ridiculous circumstance, the following epigram was founded.— THE MAN OF SORROW. 213 not yet contaminated her shelves ; the Miseries were not known, and the Com- forts not published. How did men exist-- how did the world go on before these events took place ? Or what could Mary read? you shall be told, it was the Common Prayer Book. Yes, she had sinned — she had repented — she had recourse to Religion ; and she would sit for days together retired within herself, and read the Prayer Book — not the service of matrimony. This to town-bred misses may seem sur- prizing, but so it was; she found repent- ance tread closely o!i the heels of vice ; Epigram. \yHEN Anacreon would fight, as the Poets havetaid, A reverse he displayed in his vapour, For while all his poems are loaded with lead. His pistols were loaded with pater. For excuses Anacreon, Old Castom may thank. Such a salvo he should'nt abuse. For the cartridge, by rufe, is always made blank That is fired away at reviews!!! 214f THE MAN OF SORROtV^ she turned and caught at it. Her tears were heralds from her heart to tell its re- formation. Time, fast fleeting time, rolled on, Sa- vage was still silent ; it was plain he had forgotten her — in one continued round of dissipation, at operas, balls and parties, he never thousrht of the wretched victim of his villainy. Hut oh ! if sin could wound her thu — if silent conscience thus could teai' her heart, what pangs did the anticipation of public shame inflict! — To be a parent, and not a wife — what a horrid reflection. Under the impression of it — she sum- moned resolution to write to him, and en- quiring at the mansion of his father, what his address was in London, the ruined girl penned the following letter, which after some hesitation, she dispatched to her se- ducer. July 8, 180 . ** Oh, Mr. Savage, wfaat ami to think of you ? Have you completely forgotten your THE MAN OF SORROW. ^15 poor Mary ? she who lived but for you, and who sacrificed every thing for your sake ? It surely cannot be — you told me to rely on your honor, I did — I placed a confi- dence in it — I have not surely been de- ceived. No, my dear, dear sir, you can- not be so cruel ! " Oh ! do you not remember that even- ing, the last time we met ? Have you en- tirely lost the recollection of what you said then ? you told me I should be your ii^ife. Yes, you must remember that. — Men, however fickle, cannot make engage- ments so solemnly as you did, and forget them. *' My poor heart is breaking, I cannot «ieep at night for thinking of you ; and not to write me one line, o?ie single line; not to enquire once after me, what am I to think — that you are false to me ? I cannot believe it. " You did love me ? — Yes, you did ; my father suspects me ; the girls in the neighbourhood shun me; they say 2 216 THE MAN OF SORROW. such cutting cruel things of me ; and will you let a poor wretch be subject to their taunts ? If you have any affection for me surely not — 1 would not hear a word said against you for worlds. " If I thought you really could deceive me, I should go mad ; but no — no, 1 will not harbour such a suspicion ; and yet your silence — it is cruel at any rate. "My God! when 1 recollect the things you said to me in Goodman's lane, the Tuesday evening before the Thursday that you left this, when you gave me the ring — I have got it on now. — You did love me then — if you did not, what villains men must be I " But oh ! my dearest, dearest sir, though all this might help to break my poor aching heart, I would not murmur though you were to marry another to- morrow, if my sorrows were all my own. If— gracious heaven, how shall I write it ! If, I had not reason to suppose — yes, it is so, that I may become a THE MAX aF SORROW. S]? mother! Consider what my good kind father will feel if it is discovered — Oh 1 think of that. '' I would destroy myself rather than be a torment to you ; but can I ? no, I have not courasre enou2:li to rush into cter- nity with such a sin upon my guilty con- science. " It was you who made me the wicked wretch I am ; you may restore me to so- ciety — and you will —I know your heart too well to suspect you cf duplicity. If my father was to find me out he would -turn me from his house; and \^ he does, where can I shelter my head ? I have no friend on earth but you. Write to me therefore, dear sir, and speak comfort to your wretched constant *' rJAIlY WILLIAMS." To JRlchard Savage, Esq. Loyig^s Ilviel, Dover Street^ Loiidon, Having finished her letter she stole with it to the Post-office, and slipping it into VOL. I. L 218 T H E Rr A N O F S OR ROW . the aperture of the box, with the greatest yjrecautionj lest the neighbours might be inquisitive, she returned to the cottage, with an anxious heart, to wait the return of the post, which ^vouid bring her an answer, by which her sorrows might be re- lieved, and her honor repaired. But, alas ! day followed day, week fol- lowed week, and not a word in reply, till the cold winds in September blew through the village, and the golden foliage was scattered on the ground ; yes, it was in the early part of this month while Savage was paying his devoirs to Harriet Vincent, that at the still hour of night, when the nei2:hbourhood was hushed and the cot- tagesatrest, Mary Williams was turned from her father's house, by the parent who adored her ; but who having once disco- vered her vice, disdained to shelter her another hour. By a chain of circumstances old Wil- liams became accpjainted with the whole circumstance, and in the wind and rain of a September evening, did he shut bis door THE KAN 0^ ^ORROVr, f\9 -Upon his child, and turn her pennyless and friendless upon the wide world I Could a father do so ? Yes, he thought it was his duty; but he was righteous overmuch assuredly; for by depriving his child of support — of friends — of home, he threw her into the paths of temptation, where lures for virtue and snares for innor cence are daily open to entrap the incau- tious and unsuspecting; but /le was pas-i sionate. Mary, proud, conscious of her impropriety; a word of reproach cut her to the soul ; a mandate to quit the house where she was born, and in which she had closed her dying mother's eyes, needed not to be repeated ; her spirit refused it — her father endeavoured to crush her, to •make her despicable in her own sight — • -displayed her crimes in glowing colors — compared her to the vilest of her sex ; she could not bear it — she fled, whither she knew not, her trembling limbs had no guide to lead them on ; no friend had Mary in the wide world— no roof to cover l2 tiSQ THE MAN OF SOliROVr hcr — cicserted by her seducer, by her fa- ther, bv her fortitude, she sunk in a swoon at tlie foot of a tree, wliich stood iu the centre of the village. Ill fated Q-iri, u hv did she ever listen to his prayers 1 lie oti'ered temptations, and talked of marriage. l\] as you hear her sorrows, you can drop ojie tear of pity, do ; for I knew her, and have spoken to her. She was a sweet s-irl — her onlv fault was Jove. Pardon her, if you are a fe- male: for vou have felt it vourself, reader, or if vou have not — "You are no iiiuideu, but a marble iiiouunicnt." To return, however, to our hero, Ed- ward ^lusgrave, whom we left in town, scttlinoc the business of administration, and arrani2:in2:other lei^al affairs; he set off from London for the village, on the eleventh dav from that on which he entc.red it, and proceeded with his friend, the surgeon, to his late father's dwelling. Here, naturally; every thing he saw XllE MAN OF SORROW. 221 brought to his recollection his lost parent: the furniture recalled his customs and his manners ; the books spoke in his voice, and the sfarden restored his very self; the trees he had planted murmured with a hollow sound, as if for grief, and the flowers he had trained seemed drooping for sorrow at his deatii. After remaining some time in the house, be felt very much depressed, and thinking that an event like the loss of a parent might plead an excuse fur what at another time might be termed an indecorum, he wrote a note to Mrs. Vincent, saying, ^' that he would, if she would permit him, call in and pass the evening with them.'^ Having finished this epistle, he desired one of the servants to take the note to Mrs. Viir:ent's. " Oh, sir," said the man, " it's of no use at all, if I does, sir." " Why not?" enquired Edward. '' Because, sir, Mrs. A'incent and Miss, l3 :292 THE MAN OF SORROW. are gone some hundred milesoff into the country/^ ** Is it possible ?^' exclaimed his master. " Yes, sir, they set oii' thia morning about nine o'clock/' " Where are they gone?" "I don't know, sir, Pm sure; but! know its somewhere by the sea-side." . " Enquire, will you ;" said Musgrave, ■?* I wish particularly to know/' The man immediately proceeded to the cottage to make proper investigation as to the place of their retreat ; for though he assured Edward, that they were gone to the margin of the green ocean, he was rather dubious, as he did not think the frigid month of January at all adapted fot that kind, of amphibious life, which people at watering places ase obliged to lead. In a short time the domestic returned with positive information, that they had taken their departure for Yarmouth. *' Yarmouth T^ exclaimed Edward — ^^ What can be the cause of their iournev. T'HE MAX OF SORROW. 2S3 thither? they have no acquaintance, no relations there, and to -make a t»)ur of so great an extent without some plan or pur- pose, at this time of the year, is an action according neither with- Mrs. Vincent's pru- dence nor incUnations. It is-very extra- ordinary," thought he to himself, " and it shall be my most unremitting endeavour to discover the cause of so extraordinary ^n excursion." He enquired at the (>ottage; but the only domestic left was an old woman, who " really did not know why they were gone, but she bcheved it was because they liked it ; and she knew they would not return before March or April." *' March or April !" murmured Ed- ward, " then I must go to ^he?ri, I can- not live from her so lon's and vet how am I authorized to act so decidedly ? Her mother has terminated our acquaintance, I have no right to recommence it, my cir- cumstances nre worse rather than better now, than they were at the time of her L 4 '2^-i^ THE MAX OF SORROW. refusal, and I have no plea, therefore, to advance — no claim to make. — We are destined to be wretched ! and our efforts to avert the destiny which han<]:s over us are vain/' Soured bv misfortune, and irritated bv the failure of all his schemes, poor Mus- grave sunk into a desponding melancholy, "which producing a fever, confined him to his bed and room three weeks, at the ex- piration of which time, he determined to make a visit to London, to call upon Lord Rosemore, who, during his father's life, had promised to place him in some situa- tion of emolument and respectability, on the fruits of which he mis;ht found some- thing like a reason for a journey to Yar- mouth, in pursuit of his Harriet. He accordingly put his plan in execu- tion, and having reached the metropolis, proceeded to the mansion of the noble earl, to which he received a hearty wel- come from the host, who after discussing the point with him in the moi-ning, iu- THE MAN OF SORROW. 22^ sisted upon his dining with himself, and the coiiiucss en families Edward, considering such a visit likely to afford him an introduction to the ladv, in which he mii>ht do awav a little of the dislike she entertained for him,- accepted the invitation,- and retired to equip, him- self- for the party. It was now the latter end of Januarv, and the days were exactly in that state when there is a sort of intermediate space between light and darkness, in which, though the appearance of day prohibits the introduction of lights, the approach of night calls loudly for them; and it was durinfj this interregnum^ that Edward dressed himself for the dinner at Rose- more 's. While he was performing the operation, a thousand circumstances revolved in his brain; he wished himself on the Norfolk coast with Harriet, and in her society would have preferred a cottage, where he might with her have shared the scanty 226 THE MAN OF SORRCnPT^ earnings of a hard day's labour with her? to the pompous palace he was going ta without her. In reflections on this lovelv eirl, and in recollections of his dear father, did he spend the hour before he set off for Berkeley- square, which he did, in a hackney coach, at a few minutes after six, and (for him) strange to say, he ar- rived at Lord Rosemore's door without any accident. THE MAN OF SORROW. 22? GIIAP. XV. Edward was announced bv the servant in the hall, and his name re-echoed up the staircase to the drawing-room ; hav- ing entered which, he perceived Lady Rosemore seated on a sopha near the tire, with the elegant jNIiss Sensitive in close conversation ; Lord Rosemore standing at a window, talking politics with a man in office, and Lady Belmont, Lady Rose- more 's dauqihter, ensfa^ed in a dialo^^ue with Miss Wilding, a youiiu protege of the old countess, anci as sc mc said (vviio were ill-natured) not a very clistant re- lation. This is the worldly way of accounting for charity and benevolence, and it was after this mode people chose to judge of L 29S THE MAN OF SORROW. the motherly attention of the amiable u'O- man of quality to this child of her adop- tion. Lady Rosemore nodded to Miisgrave on his entrance, and her noble husband held out his hand to welcome him; he in- troduced him to the gentleman he was in conversation with, and at his own desire, presented him to his daughter, Lady Bel- mont> and her sopha companion Miss Wilding. The party w^as afterwards encreased by the arrival of two or three of those won- derfully stupid young things in red coats and cocked hats, yclept officers of the Guards, they entered the room, bowed to the earl and countess ; and without any sort of idea, but that of a good dinner and fine wine, sat themselves down near the ladies to enquire, whether the last night's opera was full ? whether everij hochj was there ? who happened to be in town ? what party was in for the night — or who opened their houses during the next^week ? THE MAN OF SORROW'. 229 With such extraordinary efforts of ge- nius as these did these veterans talk away time till the dinner was announced, and as eating w as a service they preferred to fighting, they set off for the parlour in a quick march: the countess led the way; ]\Iiss Sensitive wms escorted bv Mr. Win- slow, Lady llehuont by her father, and Miss Wilding by one of the ensigns; the rest of the party followed promiscuous- ly, and as we shall have some reason to be better acquainted with part of the com- pany, it will be as well, while they are de- scendinsf the stairs, and arraneinsr them- selves at table, to give an account of them. Miss Wildino:, the voune lady mentioned as the die re enfant of Lady Rosemore, is the first person to be noticed. She was turned eighteen by her own account — twenty-one by the parish register: her figure was small, not ill made, and her face, illuminated by a pair of sparkling black eyes, w^as that sort of face, on the seeing 2J0 THE MAN OF SOr.ROW. ivhich Gue is apt to exclaim — '' Gad that'3 a good fine girl." Black eyes are not a thousandth part so pretty as blue in a wo- man (in my mind) ; but Fanny WildingV eyes, for black ones, were not disagreeable; there was a something of expression which she gave to them that added to their lus- tre, and caught the fancies of those men who look no farther than a feature for hap- piness, and fancy delight to be centered in personal charms. She was what the w^orld calls an ani- mated gikl: — she would pun, throw in a jest wherever she could, afiect opinions different from ail the world, talk upon ab- struse subjects, quote Homer to an officer of the Guards, and talk o^ perpetual motion to an efje)nhuite man of fashion. jS'e//-opunat«.d, with complete self -pos- session, a sarcastic sneer, and a bewitching smile, a good person, and many accom- plishments, this young woman was known as a genius. — She was a connoisseur in painting, an amateur in music, a perfect THE MAN OF SORROW. 231 dancer, an exquisite performer oa the piano, and a Billington in singing. — She wrote tales and poems, pubhshed on wove paper and broad margins, in Bond-street, made designs for furniture^ dressed in the most outre costume to set fashions, and, in short, was ^Jine, dashijig^ anhnatcd girl — and a more horrible thing is there not upon earth. Modesty and diffidence are the attributes of woman ; their silence is eloquence, and their timidity conquest. Miss Wilding did not think so, and rat- tled away most furiously ; called one man a " horrid brute, another a vile monster, " hurried overall topics but where she could raise the laugh, which she would do at any body's expense except her own. But with all this blaze of notoriety, did any body esteem her particularly? — Was there any one man upon earth, who on his pillow could .say — *' My God ! what an angel is Fanny Wilding!" Had she ever refused an offer of marriage ? No ! for a palpable reason — nobody ever had made 3 932 THE MAN OF SORROW. her one. She was like a fine firework, entertaining to look at, but dangerous to come too near to; her bouncing and crack- ing in the opeji air gave a lustre to sur-* rounding objects, but there was not a hu^ man being who could be tempted to take the exhibition into his own house^ and run the risk of burning his fingers with it. As a female philosopher Fanny would shine; but as the domestic wife — what qualifica- tions did she possess to adorn the station ? — Not one ; for with all her high-flown notions, people were apt to be ill-natured even with her, and insinuate that she was at an early age to commence a series of gallantry. Nobody knew what to make of her ; she had no acquaintance with whom she was intimate but Miss Sensitive, and she had formed the most enthusiastic ideas of her darling Fanny. Miss Sensitive it will be also necessary to introduce the reader to, as materially concerned in the plants that are forming. ^liss Sensitive was one of that class of TITE MAX OF SORROW. 93S ladies who are called virgins — only because they are unmarried, and have the epithet of antiquity prefixed to them, because they have been so for a very long time : in fact, she was an -old maidt nobody would have thought her one to have seen her, tor with a profusion of jewels, ornaments, and rouge, she had a particular knack of falling most desperately in love at particu- lar seasons of the year. In short she was a complete enthusiast, and wherever she took a fancy, there was nothing that could stop her career: — it was in one of these fits that Fanny Wilding had crossed her, and at the time this party took place they were the most perfect friends — sworn to inviolable secrecy, they were the mutual confidantes of each other, and like Ijcaumont and Fletcher, not a sonnet, a poem, a love-letter, was written or dispatched, v\ hich was not equally the production of Anastatia Sensitive, and Fanny W^ilding. Women have greater reliance on each 2J4 THE MAN or SORROW. t Other than men, and a couple of girls &hut up together alone for a week, will, before the third day of it is expired, have as com* pletely opened their hearts to each other as if they had been intimate acquaintances all their lives. Fanny was seated at dinner next Ed- ward Musgrave, and pleased with bis man^ cers and conversation, she behaved to- wards him with less dash and hauteur thaa usual; she affected to aoree with him on all points of taste, preferred Billington to Grassini because he did, thought Westali a better draughtsman than Cosvvay, merely to oblige hill), and declared that she con- sidered German much more harmonious than Italian,, only out of compliment to Musgrave, who had asserted it as a joke. In the even i no-, Edward after much persuasion took part of a duett with her— then sung alone — she did the same; pro- duced some of her sketches, played au air of her own composition with the greatest €claf, and told Edward that she should be I»HE MAN OP SORROW; 2SJ most happy to see him in the morning, to try some difficult passages with her, and. rehearse a duett for Lady Rosemore's next party. Comparisons are odious, bat Ed- ward could not help marking the differ- ence between this dasher and tiarriet — the one all fire and forwardness, the other all sensibility and modesty — the counte* nance of Fanny all animation and sparkle, the face of Miss Vii>cent all complacency . and softness ; her bhie eyes beaming with ^ heavenly expression of kindness and af- fection, while the other's orbs seemed to seek the soul through the outward form. ^, But their manners— their dispositions: the one, like a desperate general, seemed determined to carry the citadel by storm — the other, like a cool hero of undoubted prowess, insinuated herself into the inmost heart, with such unassuming sweetness, that Reason whispered the rectitude of her possessing it; but with Tanny, recti- tude and reason had nothms^ to do-— she Wasa PHILOSOPHER. 236 THE MAN OF SORROW. In a round of ridiculous conversation did the evening pass away, and the party \vouid be hardly a circumstance wortli rncntionino^, but that it eave rise to" inci- dents neither expected nor desired, and which involved the unfortunate ivian of SORROW in fresh difficulties and dis-i tresses. The next morning he called upon the earl by appointment, and no sooner was their business ended, than upon his leav- ing the library a message was delivered to him from Miss AYilding, desiring his com- pany in her b-oudoir; an invitation which^ though Edward did not mudi approve, he could not but accept. Here again she displayed her powers and accomplishments, talked in a most iivc/i/ manner of the r/tad languages, com- pared the dt&criptions of Virgil with those of Homer, spoke of the science of botany, and concluded her rhapsody by teliins: our hero that she would introduce him that morning to Sir Joseph Jonquil, a man of THE MAN OF SORROW. §.37 trrcat eminence and celebrity, who was elevated to the most dignified stations from his merit, and who was so paitial to her for her erudition, that whenever he was not confined with the gout, he always called and paid her a visit every day. Musgrave, well acquainted with the name, certainly felt no great displeasure at hearing this piece of hitelligence, and the lively girl, after having expatiated largely upon his merits,. finished her eloquence by obscrvins: that Sir Joseph was a sensible quiz, and she could do exactly as she liked with him : all this vivacity she had learned from ^liss Sensitive, whose house was actu- ally fdled up with old poets and tabby cats. Edward's ambition to see this learned member of seventeen scientific societies did not proceed exactly from the source Miss Wilding imagined. There are seve- ral causes which excite curiosity, and so easily are the inhabitants of the civilized world caught by notoriety, that a distin- guished highwayman on his way to the 533 THE MAX Ot SORROW gallows, will at any time attract more spec- tators than an unsuccessful general on his return to his native country. It was from the same motives that urge men to go and see bulls with two heads, or lambs with two bodies, that Edward v/as induced to wait the coming of this extraordinary man, this knight of the Bath, this doctor of laws, this catcher of catterpillars ! This shining character, early in life, amused himself by collectinsr snails and perriwin'kles, which hestored with great avi- dity, * and his little collection in the course ^ An epigram of Peter Pindar's on Sir Joseph Banlis, the learned president of the Royal Society, does not apply badly to ihis baronet of ours, their Christian names as well as propensities corresponding. How early genius shews itself at times, Thus Pope the pride of poets lisped in rhymes, And thus the great Sir Joseph, (strange to utter. To whom each insect eat^r is a fool,) Did when a very httle boy at school Munch spiders spread upon his bread and buiten THE MAN OF SORROW. 23§ '<)f tiaie growing to a large one, a vast nil ruber of people frequented Ijis house, all anxious to hear him tell how he pro- cured the wonderful natural curiosities he had brought home with him after a voyage round the world; and everybody listened with mute attention, while he descanted •upon sprats and mammoths, ants and ele- phants. Phcfidrus says J and justly too, " Nisi utile est qued facias, stulta est gloria." But such genius as was indispensably necessary for the glorious pursuits of but- terfly hunting, and stone picking, could not fail to make its way to the ears of greatness, and having done so, could not fail to meet its Just rezc^ard. Ribbands — stars ! ! ! orders, pensions, presidcnces, and the deuce knows what, were poured down in torrents upon this fongus of a philosopher, this mushroom of a man. This rather savors of the burlesquej and -seems a litue to partake the spirit of 240 THE MAN OF SORROW-, "This I do because I dare! Is it not ridiculous in the highest degree, that a fellow should be invested with one of the noblest honors of the state, because he can tell you that the hyacinth is hex- andriamonogynia? That a brilliant star should glitter on his breast, because he can inform the world after wonderful and elaborate research, that he thinks the corrolea i« campanulate.and in six segments, while the fuchsia cocci nea, is octandria, and has of course eight sta- mens and one pistil, that its calyx is mo- nophyllous, and that its corrolea has four petals? Is it not ridiculous, that because he can tell this, a broad red ribbon should cross his breast, or that he should be patronized, lauded, and exalted to the skies, because he persists in dividing the race of butter- flies into five phalanges, that is to say into the, Helicon ii THE MAN OF SORROW. 241 Equites Danai Nymphales Plebeii; And because he thinks Merian classes the Lepidopteia among moths, while Reau- mur and Ray place them among butter- flies? Is it for such knowledsfe as this that a man is to be set over the heads of thou- sands who possess what Sir Joseph never did, nor never will possess, commoii sense ! On such caterpillar catchers as these, French artists, and Italian squallers^ are the goods and honours of our nation la- vished, while the wisest members of the community, the bravest men in our army and navy, are starving for want of employ- ment and food. ** Jampridem Syrus in Tibcrem defluxit Oroutcs Et linguam et mores. Such were Edward's sentiments about Sir Joseph, but yet his name was up, and VOL. I. M £42 THE MAN OF SORROW. as a young man, he wished to see him, — a fop with a wig and whiskers, painted in tile cheeks, and perfumed through ten waistcoats, without ten grains of common sense, or common decency, may by the verv actions which render him ridiculous, render himself conspicuous ; even a beg- gar on crutches in the pubhc streets, by adopting a pecuhar style of dress, is imme- diately recognized by name, modelled by artists, })ourtrayed by engravers, and fol- lowed bv the rabble. This knight companion, however, v^^as expected for a long time, and yet did not arrive ; Miss Wilding grew impatient, and at three o'clock sent a messasfe to his house to enquire the cause of his absence from Berkely-square. At first a fear of illness pervaded the acute feeling Fanny, Miss Sensitive's eye sparkled and winked with apprehension. " Gracious heavens,*' said she, in a tone so violently shrill, that it appeared as if she wished to get possession of Edward's heart THE MAN OF SORROW. 243 by breaking the drum of his ear, '• I hope there's nothing happened to the dcnTing Jonque, (an abbreviation of the baronet's name) — oIj the dear, disaii^reeable beast, I should break ray heart if he was to h^ive ^ny thing the matter with him — do' you know Fan, I bke the monster most ama- zingly." ''Oh he's a cliarming quiz," replied Fanny, '' he is old now, but he must have been a deliohtful fellow furtv vears asro, then he must have been better able to — '^ \V'hat she was going too'.>serve, he knew not, for her eulogium was interrupted by the entrance ot the servant who had l^eeii sent to his house, and who stated that it was impossible Sir Joseph could come, as he had set off in the morning for Kcv, to sell some flocks of sheep by auction. Sheep, thought Edward, sheep, cried the ladies, but so it was ; the right honourable haronet and kiiight of the bath^ the presi- ilent^ the member of the prhij council^ the Ai 2 244 THE MAN OF SORROW. doctor of Icnos, was down at Kew selling sheep to the best bidders. Here were the state-services, these were the deeds for which he was rewarded — but what a thino- — an auctioneer in a red rib- hand, a sheep seller in a star ! a king kiss- ing the Pope's toe is nothing to it. After this disappointment Edward took his leave, and no sooner was his back turned, than the pair of pretty ones he left behind him began to discuss his merits. *' Well, mv dear little Fan," said Anas- tatia, " you are caught completely by that fellow, I never saw a more desperate wound than he has made in your little heart." " Mine, my dear," replied Miss Wild- ing; ''' I assure you you never were farther from the mark in your life, your general discrimination fails vou : I think I never saw an uglier, more disagreeable creature, in all m^- life." " Come, come, my young satirist, not so severe,^^ cried Miss Sensitive, *' vou will Tlit: MAN OF SORROW. 24 J allow that his eye is sensible, expressive, and animated." *' Why, yes,*' cried Fan, turning over some music, " his eye is not a bad one, no, no. 1 eraat vou there the man is decent/' " A nd,^' continued her friend, "his figure is not despicable.'^ *' Oh no,^' allowed Miss Wilding, '' there is nothing very exceptionable about iiis fio^ure.^^ " And then his manners/' said Anasta- tia, ^' are easy, his conversation lively, liis disposition amiable, and his deportment graceful ; you own that he draws prettily, and he certaingly sings with taste, and plays with great execution." '* Yes," drawled out Fanny, '•* Fll grant all that, and yet there is something: more ftbout a man than all this, necessary toc;ain ray love — I hke him very well.'^ '' Yes, my dear,'* cried her confidant, '* I know you do, and that sometiiing is no- thing but a reciprocity of affection, you want him to love again, my dear." 540 THE MAN OF SORROW, " Well," replied poor InIIss Wilding, *' from you my dear Anastatia, there is no concealing any thing ; you are my friend : iiiidiiow I tell you candidly, that 1 will either marry Edward Miisgrave, or die as pure a viroin as I am at this moment/' ^iiss Sensitive burst into' a horse laugh, not at Fanny's virtue, but at the oddity of her wish. " Ayej you may laugh/' said she, " but I never till I saw h^.m, beheld any man that cuuld fix my affections; I am deter- mined, my happiness is at stake, and he shall know it before it's long.'^ " Charmins: sfirl,^' cried Anastatia, catdi- ing her to her breast and kissing her cheek, '^ you are a divinity, you are ^very thing you ouoht to be : make me your messen- ger, I will deliver notes, letters, and ap- pointments ; I endeavoured only last week- to talk over a ridiculous mother whow'ould not let her child marry the man she loved, and it is not a month ago that I pleaded the cause of my little friend Adolphe, with u girl he is desperately attached to, who HIE MAN OF SORROW. 247 hates him ; I invited them to my house, left them alone, put out the candles bij ac- cident^ and locked them up togeth<2r ; but she was resokite, and ran to an inner cham- ber, shut the door, and poor little Adolphe was as bad off as ever; he rang the bell io be liberated, for as he could not qjet in then, he saw no other opportunity of forc- ing her, he therefore burst into tears ; 1 ordered her carriage, never have s{)0- ken to the wretch since, and have taken little Adolphe into my house, and pet him with as much tenderness as I do m\ cats.'' "You are a dear delicious little crea- ture," cried Fanny, " and you shall take a note to him to-morrow; but there seems, one obstacle, vou know he ran awav with that little insipid creature Harriet Vincent, and would have married her only her rao- ther caught them." '' Is that all?" cried Anastatia, '' Til set- tle that — stratagem must be resorted to, we'll make him jealous of her — invent sto- ries of her flirting, and then — " ^ 24B THE MAN OF SORROW. *' Oh and then/' exclaimed die intatu- ated Fanny, ** he will marry me — I shall liave him alJ to myself— 1']] go to Scotland too, he shall take me there, and we'll — no we won't till after we are married/' cried she, throwing herself back on the sopha, *' we will so love each other — Oh, Oh — ril write directly to him, this very moment ;'' Staying which, she actually pro- ceeded for pens, ink, and paper; and hav- ing procured them, she sat down, assisted by Miss SensitivGj to compcse an epistle to her ?vlusgrave. This, gentle reader, is a copy from na- ture, of what the world admire, a fine, spi- riled^ dashwgy animated^ girL Charming young creatures I it is de* hght/ul to be in their society — Imperti^ nent, assuming, and conceited ; a girl once taudit to believe herself a wif^ becomes a shreio, forcing remarks where they never would be sought, offering opinions where ihoy would never be required, flirting with overv vouns' man she comes near, scan- THE MAN OF SORROW. 249 dalizing every woman she knows, and railing at such of her friends as happen to be absent, for the annusement of those who chance to be present: these are the princi- pal accomplishments of one of these ami- able characters. Flippant and ridiculous as daughters, they become vicious and con- temptible as wives, and by displaying an utter co«tempt of rule, decency, and de- corum, prove to the world the strength of their spirits^ and the hr'iUiancij of their ani^ nirition. Miss Wildincr, it seems, had formed a rash and hastv attachment to Musorave ; poor fellow, even good to him is evil ; and what might to another young man have been a flattering circumstance, was to him the most distressinir one. I^rnorant of his haviij^ been unfortir- nately so lucky as to tn^ike a conquest, he repaired to the hotel where h-e lived, and according to a desire of Lord Rosemore,the next morning waited upon a nobleman of high rank with a letter of recommendation, SI 5 250 THE MAN OF SORROW. CHAP. XVI. The young ladies, at least Fanny, and her unmarried friend, waited, very anxi- ously for the arrival of Musgrave the next day, whom they knew was expected, but. • findins: him later than thev imasrined he would be, Miss Sensitive sent to her house to^djBsire her .favorite AdoJphe to come to h^rjmmediatelyj.j i. ,7,oi Fanny at first could not. discern the purpose of this message or ^u^tj^but on the arrival of the little beau, she was soon, satisfied, for Miss Anastatia, when he came to the Square, immediately instruqj;e4, him what part to play. He was taught to call in at Lady Rose- more's for Miss Sensitive, during the time- that Edward was to be there, and tUev then ^ THE MAN OF SORROW. 2ol t'jtoreci him how to act; he was in the course of conversation to enquire about the Vincent's, and to state tliat Harriet was on the eve of marriage, and Miss Anas- tatia and Fanny were to corroborate his- assertions. The plot being properly arranged, the two ladies sat themselves down to rumi- nate upon its effects, till the unfortunate victim of their plans arrived. Edward proceeded in the morning to Lord Glenstore. a man verv hifj^h in the administration, (which, however, did not indicate any superiority of talent,) he was a Scotch peer, needy and avaricious, risen from a situation of no consequence, by a chain of lucky circumstances, to a title. This nobleman had a vast range of pa- tronage, and possessed the power of be- stowing more places and offices than any of his party; he, however, did not consider it necessary lo ihroiv a closetted with the master of the house, on his retiring, received a second summons from Miss Wilding's ser- vant to her boudoir, whither he accord- ingly followed the man. Their salutations were extremely friend- ly ; her manners particularly lively, Miss Sensitive remarkably witty, and the trio over a three o'clock luncheon of fowls, wines, &c. &c. &c. began according to their usual custom, to cut up reputations with their meat, and destroy characters With their liquor, till at length by artful in- sinuations Miss Vincent's name was men- tioned. " Oh 1" cried Fanny Wilding, ^' I was prodigiously unlucky in not being at home when Lady Belmont was married, I lost the party down at the village ; and I, 4 THE MAX OF SORROW. i2o7 iherofore, lost the pleasure of being intro- duced to Miss Vincent." " It is a pleasure you will not have then now ;" said Anastatia. '' Why not?" enquired Fanny, vvith pretended ignorance — '• ^Vhy not, child 1'^ replied her confederate — '^ ^Vhy, she is to be married next week to a Captain — Captain Psha, wliat is his name ?" '• .Miss Vincent married, madam !" said Musgrave, '' I flincy not I — 1 rather ima- gine yon to be mistaken," ** Oh 1 dear no;" said Miss Sensitive. ** My good sir, 1 know several of the man's acquaintance, who she has just con- sented to marry. He is heir to a title, and seven thousand a year." " Good God ! you surprize me," ex- claimed the agonised Edward — " this is the first I have heard of it." " Prav,'^ continued she, tu ruins: to Adolphe, who at this moment entered the room, '' Do vou know who Miss Vhi-- cent is going to be married tor" 2o8 THE MAN OF SORROW. " To Captain IMissenden,*' replied Adolphe. " Are you quite sure of what you say, sir ?" asked Edward. " Quite, sir,'^ replied he, '' perfectly sure, I know him, and he mentioned your name, as having heard it from Miss Vin- cent, who, he said, had behaved very shab- bily to 3'Ou, in suffering your addresses; for she told him that vou had behaved very ill to her, and that she could not even bear to hear you spoken of." " This, sir,'' said Edward, " is rather a subject of too delicate a nature to be spo- ken of in the way you have mentioned it; "and I am sure these ladies will excuse my taking my leave immediately ; indeed, the news has not rendered me fit companion for any body but myself." He immediately rose to depart, the la- dies pressed him to remain where he was ; but this he refused, and havinir left their presence, cursed his ill stars at having lost the only o-irl he ever could love ! THE MAN OF SORROW. QoO " But was she a jilt? — 2no, that could not be — was the report true r — yes, it must be. — How was he to act? — he would go to them, and discover the real case." This was his final determination, and lie was not easily drawn from a resolution once made; for at eigiit o'clock he step- ped into the Yarrnoitth mail, and set off for the town, wiiich contained all he held dear in the world. Distracted, distressed, and miserable as usual, oiir poor disconsolate hero ftlt him- self flying, as it were, to the arms of a girl who, if all he had heard was true, had al- ready forgotten him, and who haa never loved him. This he wasobliged to doubt; he knew, lie was certain she did\o\'e him once, and his only fears were, that her mother, con- vinced of the advantao^es likely to arise from the match, proposed with this Cap- tain Aiissendeii, had forced her child to accept him, and had actually removed her 'JOO THE MAN OF SORROW. into the country from his power, or that of any body else, who might feel inchned to rescue beauty from oppression, and in- nocence from tvrannv. With a head distractedly full of horrid ideas, and a heart that sunk at every step the horses took on tlie road, Edward at length reached the spot, where all was to be decided that could constitute his hap- piness, or misery through life. He enquired for the best inn, and was conducted to the Wrestlers, which is near the market-plare, and faces the old and spacious church. Findinor himself wearv and uncomfort» able, he retired to a bed chamber, and throwing himself down upon the bed, fell into a profound sleep, from which he was roused by the ringing of the church bells, whose reiterated peals rattled through the air, and announced some event of joy at hand. ^' What is the occasion of all this rins:- THE MAN OF SORROW. 26 i ing r'' said Mus^rave to a waiter who en- tered his room, " Is there any news ar- rived?'' *' No, sir — no news,'^ said the waiter, '' its only a wedding, sir — that's all, the gentlefolks have been breakfasting here, and they are gone to Leostoffe to din- ner/^ )> " What is the name of the gentleman enquired Edward. " I don't know, sir, really,'' said the waiter ; " for as the lady that has been living here for sometime — a Mrs. Vincent, sir—" '' Vincent !" exclaimed Edward—" My God 1 is it possible ? — then it is true, and here will I end a life of sorrow and mis- fortune.^' Saying which he seized a razor from his dressing table, and would have instantly destroyed himself, if the waiter had not snatched it from his hand, and preserved him from danger. " It is all over 1" exclaimed Musgrave, 262 THE MAN OF SORROW. I cannot live — she is gone — she that I have loved best on earth! — but," con- tinued he, *' it is not too late to follow them — no man shall ever enjoy the pos- session of her I — / alone will be her hus- • band, and I will pursue them, challenge -and destroy the villain who has torn her from me ; and force her as a prize in triumph from him I which way did they go?" -" To Leostoffe, sir,'' replied the man — *' but, for heaven's sake, sir, don't follow them — what's past cannot be recalled, sir, and you'll ^et yourself into some trouble.' "Silence, sirrah T' cried IMusgrave, in a voice of thunder — " Let these things of mine, and this trunk, be sent to London bv the mail to nidit — I shall leave this immediately.'' Saying which, he walked into the town, where enquiring of a boy the v/ay to Leo- stoffe, he pursued it with unwearied ac- tivity. He traversed the road v,ithout beina' THE MAN OF SORROW. 2G3 conscious of the distance, and on reach- ing the place, he determined not to en- quue for them by name, for fear of a dis- covery : but havins: searciied all the inns and having burst in upon a party, who were preparmg for dinner, without suc- cess — he ordered a po^t chaise, and more than ever fallen, lost, and svmk, he returned to the metropolis, an outcast being ; for his Harriet had forgotten him, and was married to another. Can woman be so fickle! Unhappy wretched man of sorrow, thy life has nought of sunshine to illume its rays, grief and care have set their stamp upon thee ; and if it be possible, woe still heavier than the past now awaits thee ! VALE VALE VALE. END OF VOLUME FIRST. f tinted by J. D. Dewick,46, B«rb:CJp. ^ tfM^ VS^JT--)*-, • ^^K^pr ^ -,,..,3 i^ ^