CHAPTER XV

After the performance of the last melancholy duties, this afflicted family prepared to separate. I received from them, individually, friendly offers of service, and expressions of acknowledgment, for my tender attentions to their deceased parent. I declined, for the present, their invitations, and profferred kindness, though uncertain how to dispose of myself, or which way to direct my course. Augustus behaved towards me with distant, cold, respect. I observed in his features, under a constrained appearance of composure, marks of deep and strong emotion. I recalled to my mind the injunctions of my deceased friend--I yearned to pour into his bosom the balm of sympathy, but, with an aspect bordering on severity, he repressed the expression of those ingenuous feelings which formed my character, and shunned the confidence I so earnestly sought. Unfortunate love had, in my subdued and softened mind, laid the foundation of a fervent and durable friendship--But my love, my friendship, were equally contemned! I relinquished my efforts--I shut myself in my chamber--and, in secret, indulged my sorrows.

The house of my deceased friend was sold, and the effects disposed of.

On the day previous to their removal, and the departure of the family for London, I stole into the library, at the close of the evening, to view, for _the last time_, the scene of so many delightful, so many afflicting emotions. A mysterious and sacred enchantment is spread over every circ.u.mstance, even every inanimate object, connected with the affections. To those who are strangers to these delicate, yet powerful sympathies, this may appear ridiculous--but the sensations are not the less genuine, nor the less in nature. I will not attempt to a.n.a.lyse them, it is a subject upon which the language of philosophy would appear frigid, and on which I feel myself every moment on the verge of fanaticism. Yet, affections like these are not so much weakness, as strength perhaps badly exerted. Rousseau was, right, when he a.s.serted, that, 'Common men know nothing of violent sorrows, nor do great pa.s.sions ever break out in weak minds. Energy of sentiment is the characteristic of a n.o.ble soul.'

I gazed from the windows on the shrubbery, where I had so often wandered with my friends--where I had fondly cherished so many flattering, so many visionary, prospects. Every spot, every tree, was a.s.sociated with some past pleasure, some tender recollection. The last rays of the setting sun, struggling from beneath a louring cloud, streamed through its dark bosom, illumined its edges, played on the window in which I was standing, and gilding the opposite side of the wainscot, against which the picture of Augustus still hung, shed a soft and mellow l.u.s.tre over the features. I turned almost unconsciously, and contemplated it with a long and deep regard. It seemed to smile benignly--it wore no traces of the cold austerity, the gloomy and inflexible reserve, which now clouded the aspect of the original. I called to my remembrance a thousand interesting conversations--when

'Tuned to happy unison of soul, a fairer world of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, displayed, its charms.'

Absorbed in thought, the crimson reflection from the western clouds gradually faded, while the deep shades of the evening, thickened by the appearance of a gathering tempest, involved in obscurity the object on which, without distinctly perceiving it, I still continued to gaze.

I was roused from this reverie by the sudden opening of the door. Some person, whom the uncertain light prevented me from distinguishing, walked across the room, with a slow and solemn pace, and, after taking several turns backwards and forwards, reclined on the sopha, remaining for some time perfectly still. A tremor shook my nerves--unable either to speak, or to move, I continued silent and trembling--my heart felt oppressed, almost to suffocation--at length, a deep, convulsive sigh, forced its way.

'My G.o.d!' exclaimed the person, whose meditations I had interrupted, 'what is that?'

It was the voice of Mr Harley, he spoke in a stern tone, though with some degree of trepidation, and advanced hastily towards the window against which I leaned.

The clouds had for some hours been gathering dark and gloomy. Just as Augustus had reached the place where I stood, a flash of lightning, pale, yet vivid, glanced suddenly across my startled sight, and discovered to him the object which had alarmed him.

'Emma,' said he, in a softened accent, taking my trembling and almost lifeless hand, 'how came you here, which way did you enter?'

I answered not--Another flash of lightning, still brighter, blue and sulphurous, illuminated the room, succeeded by a loud and long peal of thunder. Again the heavens seemed to rend asunder and discover a sheet of livid flame--a crash of thunder, sudden, loud, short, immediately followed, bespeaking the tempest near. I started with a kind of convulsive terror. Augustus led me from the window, and endeavoured, in vain, to find the door of the library--the temporary flashes, and total darkness by which they were succeeded, dazzled and confounded the sight.

I stumbled over some furniture, which stood in the middle of the room, and unable to recover my feet, which refused any longer to sustain me, sunk into the arms of Augustus, suffering him to lift me to the sopha.

He seated himself beside me, the storm continued; the clouds, every moment parting with a horrible noise, discovered an abyss of fire, while the rain descended in a deluge. We silently contemplated this sublime and terrible scene. Augustus supported me with one arm, while my trembling hand remained in his. The tempest soon exhausted itself by its violence--the lightning became less fierce, gleaming at intervals--the thunder rolled off to a distance--its protracted sound, lengthened by the echoes, faintly died away; while the rain continued to fall in a still, though copious, shower.

My spirits grew calmer, I gently withdrew my hand from that of Mr Harley. He once more enquired, but in a tone of greater reserve, how I had entered the room without his knowledge? I explained, briefly and frankly, my situation, and the tender motives by which I had been influenced.

'It was not possible,' added I, 'to take leave of this house _for ever_, without recalling a variety of affecting and melancholy ideas--I feel, that I have lost _my only friend_.'

'This world,' said he, 'may not unaptly be compared to the rapids on the American rivers--We are hurried, in a frail bark, down the stream--It is in vain to resist its course--happy are those whose voyage is ended!'

'My friend,' replied I in a faultering voice, 'I could teach my heart to bear your loss--though, G.o.d knows, the lesson has been sufficiently severe--but I know not how, with fort.i.tude, to see you suffer.'

'Suffering is the common lot of humanity--but, pardon me, when I say, your conduct has not tended to lessen my vexations!'

'My errors have been the errors of _affection_--Do they deserve this rigor?'

'Their source is not important, their consequences have been the same--you make not the allowances you claim.'

'Dear, and severe, friend!--Be not unjust--the confidence which I sought, and merited, would have been obviated'--

'I know what you would alledge--that confidence, you had reason to judge, was of a painful nature--it ought not to have been extorted.'

'If I have been wrong, my faults have been severely expiated--if the error has been _only mine_, surely my sufferings have been in proportion; seduced by the fervor of my feelings; ignorant of your situation, if I wildly sought to oblige you to chuse happiness through a medium of my creation--yet, to have a.s.sured _yours_, was I not willing to risque all my own? I perceive my extravagance, my views were equally false and romantic--dare I to say--they were the ardent excesses of a generous mind? Yes! my wildest mistakes had in them a dignified mixture of virtue. While the inst.i.tutions of society war against nature and happiness, the mind of energy, struggling to emanc.i.p.ate itself, will entangle itself in error'--

'Permit me to ask you,' interrupted Augustus, 'whether, absorbed in your own sensations, you allowed yourself to remember, and to respect, the feelings of others?'

I could no longer restrain my tears, I wept for some moments in silence--Augustus breathed a half-suppressed sigh, and turned from me his face.

'The pangs which have rent my heart,' resumed I, in low and broken accents, 'have, I confess, been but too poignant! That lacerated heart still bleeds--we have neither of us been guiltless--_Alas!

who is?_ Yet in my bosom, severe feelings are not more painful than transient--already have I lost sight of your unkindness, (G.o.d knows how little I merited it!) in stronger sympathy for your sorrows--whatever be their nature! We have both erred--why should we not exchange mutual forgiveness? Why should we afflict each other? Friendship, like charity, should suffer all things and be kind!'

'My mind,' replied he coldly, 'is differently const.i.tuted.'

'_Unpitying man!_ It would be hard for us, if we were all to be judged at so severe a tribunal--you have been a _lover_,' added I, in a softer tone, 'and can you not forgive the faults of _love_?'

He arose, visibly agitated--I also stood up--my bosom deeply wounded, and, unknowing what I did, took his hand, and pressed it to my lips.

'You have rudely thrown from you a heart of exquisite sensibility--you have contemned my love, and you disdain my friendship--is it brave, is it manly,' added I wildly--almost unconscious of what I said--forgetting at the moment his situation and my own--'thus to triumph over a spirit, subdued by its affections into unresisting meekness?'

He broke from me, and precipitately quitted the room.

I threw myself upon the floor, and, resting my head on the seat which Augustus had so lately occupied, pa.s.sed the night in cruel conflict--a tempest more terrible than that which had recently spent its force, shook my soul! The morning dawned, ere I had power to remove myself from the fatal spot, where the measure of my afflictions seemed filled up.--Virtue may conquer weakness, but who can bear to be despised by those they love. The sun darted its beams full upon me, but its splendour appeared mockery--hope and joy were for ever excluded from my benighted spirit. The contempt of the world, the scoffs of ignorance, the contumely of the proud, I could have borne without shrinking--but to find myself rejected, contemned, scorned, by him with whom, of all mankind, my heart claimed kindred; by him for whom my youth, my health, my powers, were consuming in silent anguish--who, instead of pouring balm into the wound he had inflicted, administered only corrosives!--_It was too painful!_ I felt, that I had been a lavish prodigal--that I had become a wretched bankrupt; that there was but _one way_ to make me happy and _a thousand_ to make me miserable! Enfeebled and exhausted, I crawled to my apartment, and, throwing myself on the bed, gave a loose to the agony of my soul.

CHAPTER XVI

Under pretence of indisposition, I refused to meet the family. I heard them depart. Too proud to accept of obligation, I had not confided to them my plans, if plans they could be called, where no distinct end was in view.

A few hours after their departure, I once more seated myself in a stage coach, in which I had previously secured a place, and took the road to London. I perceived, on entering the carriage, only one pa.s.senger, who had placed himself in the opposite corner, and in whom, to my great surprize, I immediately recognized Mr Montague. We had not met since the visit he had paid me at Mrs Harley's, the result of which I have already related: since that period, it had been reported in the village, that he addressed Sarah Morton, and that they were about to be united. Montague manifested equal surprize at our meeting: the intelligence of my friend's death (at which he expressed real concern) had not reached him, neither was he acquainted with my being in that part of the country. He had not lately been at Mr Morton's, he informed me, but had just left his father's, and was going to London to complete his medical studies.

After these explanations, absorbed in painful contemplation, I for some time made little other return to his repeated civilities, than by cold monosyllables: till at length, his cordial sympathy, his gentle accents, and humane attentions, awakened me from my reverie. Ever accessible to the soothings of kindness, I endeavoured to exert myself, to prove the sense I felt of his humanity. Gratified by having succeeded in attracting my attention, he redoubled his efforts to cheer and amuse me. My dejected and languid appearance had touched his feelings, and, towards the end of our journey, his unaffected zeal to alleviate the anxiety under which I evidently appeared to labour, soothed my mind and inspired me with confidence.

He respectfully requested to know in what part of the town I resided, and hoped to be permitted to pay his respects to me, and to enquire after my welfare? This question awakened in my bosom so many complicated and painful sensations, that, after remaining silent for a few minutes, I burst into a flood of tears.

'I have no home;' said I, in a voice choaked with sobs--'I am an alien in the world--and alone in the universe.'

His eyes glistened, his countenance expressed the most lively, and tender, commiseration, while, in a timid and respectful voice, he made me offers of service, and entreated me to permit him to be useful to me.

'I then mentioned, in brief, my present unprotected situation, and hinted, that as my fortune was small, I could wish to procure a humble, but decent, apartment in a reputable family, till I had consulted one friend, who, I yet flattered myself, was interested in my concerns, or till I could fix on a more eligible method of providing for myself.'

He informed me--'That he had a distant relation in town, a decent, careful, woman, who kept a boarding house, and whose terms were very reasonable. He was a.s.sured, would I permit him to introduce me to her, she would be happy, should her accommodation suit me, to pay me every attention in her power.'

In my forlorn situation, I confided, without hesitation, in his recommendation, and gratefully acceded to the proposal.

Mr Montague introduced me to this lady in the most flattering terms, she received me with civility, but, I fancied, not without a slight mixture of distrust. I agreed with her for a neat chamber, with a sitting room adjoining, on the second floor, and settled for the terms of my board, more than the whole amount of the interest of my little fortune.

CHAPTER XVII