The Children of the Abbey. A tale

Chapter I

'* Yellow sheafs from rich Ceres the cottage had crowned, Green rushes were strewed on the floor ; The casements sweet woodbine crept wantonly round, And decked the sod seats at the door." — Cunningham. Hail, sweet asylum of my infancy ! Content and innocence reside beneath your humble roof, and charity unboastful of the good it renders. Hail, ye venerable trees ! my happiest hours of childish gayety were passed beneath your shelter — then, careless as the birds that sung upon your boughs, I laughed the hours away, nor knew of evil. Here surely I shall be guarded from duplicity ; and if not happy, at least in some degree tranquil. Here unmolested may I wait, till the rude storm of sorrow is overblown, and my father's arms are again expanded to receive me. Such were the words of Amanda, as the chaise (which she had hired at a neighboring village on quitting the mail) turned down a little verdant lane, almost darkened by old trees, whose interwoven branches allowed her scarcely a glimpse of her nurse's cottage, till she had reached the door.

A number of tender recollections rushing upon her mind, rendered her almost unable to alight ; but the nurse and her husband, who had been impatiently watching for the arrival of their fondling, assisted her, and the former, obeying the dictates of nature and affection, half stifled her with caresses ; the latter respectfully kissed her hand, and dropped a tear of unutterable joy upon it. Lort, he said, he was surprised, to be sure, at -the alteration a few years had made in her person — why, it seemed to him as if it was only the other day since he had carried her about in his arms, quite a little fairy. Then he begged to know how his tear old captain was, and Mr. Oscar — and whether the latter was not grown a very fine youth. Amanda, smiling through her tears, endeavored to answer his inquiries ; but she was so much affected by her feelings, as to be scarcely able to speak ; and when, by her desire, he went out to discharge the chaise, and assist the young man (who had travelled with her from London) to bring in her luggage, her head sunk upon her nurse's bosom, whose arms encircled her waist.

" My dear faithful nurse," she sobbed, "your poor child is again returned to seek an asylum from you." " And she is heartily welcome," replied the good creature, crying herself, " and I have taken care to have everything so nice, and so tidy, and so comfortable, that I warrant you the greatest laty in the land need not disdain your apartments ; and here are two little girls, as well as myself, that will always be ready to attend, serve and obey you. This is Ellen, your own foster-sister ; and this is Betsey, the little thing I had in the cradle when you went away — and I have besides, though I say it myself that should not say it, two as fine lads as you could wish to see ; they are now at work at a farmer's hard by ; but they will be here presently. Thank Cot, we are all happy, though obliged to earn our own bread ; but 'tis sweeter for that reason, since labor gives us health to enjoy it, and contentment blesses us all."

Amanda affectionately embraced the two girls, who were the pictures of health and cheerfulness, and was then conducted into a little parlor, which, with a small bedchamber adjoining it, was appropriated to her use. The neatness of the room was truly pleasing ; the floor was nicely sanded ; the hearth was dressed with " flowers and fennel gay;" and the chimney-piece adorned with a range of broken teacups, " wisely kept for show ; " a clock ticked behind the door ; and an ebony cupboard displayed a profusion of the showiest ware the country could produce. And now the nurse, on "hospitable thought intent," hurried from Amanda to prepare her dinner. The chicken, as she said herself, was ready to pop clown in a minute ; Ellen tied the asparagus ; and Betsey laid the cloth ; Edwin drew his best cider, and, having brought it in himself, retired to entertain his guest in the kitchen (Amanda's travelling companion), before whom he had already set some of his most substantial fare.

Dinner, in the opinion of Amanda, was served in a moment ; but her heart was too full to eat, though pressed to do so with the utmost tenderness, a tenderness which, in truth, was the means of overcoming her. When insulted by malice, or oppressed by cruelty, the heart can assume a stern fortitude foreign to its nature ; but this seem ing apathy Vanishes at the voice of kindness, as the rigid frost of winter melts before the gentle influence of the sun, and tears, gushing tears of gratitude and sensibility, express its yielding feelings. Sacred are such tears ; they flow from the sweet source of social affection : the good alone can shed them. Her nurse's sons soon returned from their labor ; two fine nut-brown youths. They had been the companions of her infant sports, and she spoke to them with the most engaging affability.

Domestic bliss and rural felicity Amanda had always been accustomed to, till within a' short period ; her attachment to them was still as strong as evey, and had her father been with her, she would have been happy. It was now about the middle of June, and the whole country was glowing with luxuriant beauty. The cottage was in reality a comfortable, commodious farm-house ; it was situated in North Wales, and the romantic scenery surrounding it was highly pleasing to a disposition like Amanda's, which delighted equally in the sublime and beautiful. The front of the cottage was almost covered with wsodbine, intermingled with vines ; and the lane already mentioned formed a shady avenue up to the very door ; one side overlooked a deep valley, winding amongst hills clad in the liveliest verdure ; a clear stream running through it turned a mill in its course, and afforded a salutary coolness to the herds which ruminated on its banks ; the other side commanded a view of rich pastures, terminated by a thick grove, whose natural vistas gave a view of cultivated farms, a small irregular village, the spire of its church, and a fine old castle, whose stately turrets rose above the trees surrounding them.

The farm-yard, at the back of the cottage, was stocked with poultry and all the implements of rural industry ; the garden was divided from it by a rude paling, interwoven with honey suckles and wild roses ; the part appropriated for vegetables divided from the part sacred to Flora by rows of fruit-trees ; a craggy precipice hung over it, covered with purple and yellow flowers, thyme, and other odoriferous herbs, which afforded browsage to three or four goats that skipped about in playful gambols ; a silver stream trickled down the precipice, and winding round a plantation of shrubs, fell with a gentle murmur into the valley. Beneath a projecting fragment of the rock a natural recess was formed, thickly lined with moss, and planted round with a succession of beautiful flowers. " Here, scattered wild, the lily of the vale Its balmy essence breathes ; here cowslips hang The dewy head, and purple violets lurk — With alf the lowly children of the shade."— Thomson.

Of those scenes Amanda had but an imperfect recollection ; such a faint idea as we retain of a confused but agreeable dream, which, though we cannot explain, leaves a pleasing impression behind. Peculiar circumstances had driven her from the shelter of a parent's arms, to seek security in retirement at this abode of simplicity and peace. Here the perturbation of fear subsided ; but the soft melancholy of hex soul at times was heightened, when she reflected, that in this very place an unfortunate mother had expired almost at the moment of giving her birth. Amanda was now about nineteen , a description of her face and person would not do her justice, as it never could convey a full idea of the ineffable sweetness and sensibility of the former, or the striking elegance and beautiful proportion of the latter.

Sorrow had faded her vivid bloom ; for the distresses of her father weighed heavy on her heart, and the blossom drooped with the tree which supported it. Her agonized parent witness ing this sudden change, sent her into Wales, as much for health as for security ; she was ordered goat's whey and gentle ex ercise ; but she firmly believed that consolation on her father's account could alone effect a cure. Though the rose upon her cheek was pale, and the lustre of her eyes was fled, she was from those circumstances (if less dazzling to the -eye) more affecting to the heart. Cold and un feeling indeed must that one have been, which could see her unmoved ; for hers was that interesting face and figure which had power to fix the wandering eye and change the gaze of admiration into the throb of sensibility : nor was her mind inferior to the form that enshrined it.

She now exerted her spirits in gratitude to her humble but benevolent friends. Her arrival had occasioned a little festival at the cottage : the tea things, which were kept more for show than use in the ebony cupboard, were now taken out and carried by her desire to the recess in the garden ; whither Mrs. Edwin followed the family with a hot cake, Amanda thought large enough to serve half the principality. The scene was delightful, and well calculated to banish all sadness but despair ; Amanda was therefore cheered ; for she was too much the child of piety ever to have felt its baneful influence. In the midst of her troubles she still looked up with confidence to that Power who has promised never to forsake the righteous. The harmless jest, the jocund laugh went round, and Amanda enjoyed the innocent gayety ; for a benevolent mind will ever derive pleasure from the happiness of others.

The declining sun now gave softer beauties to the extensive scenery j the lowing of the cattle was faintly echoed by the neighboring hills ; the cheerful carol of the peasant floated on the evening gale, that stole perfumes from the beds of flowers and wafted them around ; the busy bees had now completed the delicious labor of the day, and with incessant hummings sought their various hives, while — " Every copse Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush Were prodigal of harmony." — THOMSON. To complete the concert, a blind harper, who supported himself by summer rambles through the country, strolled into the garden ; and after a plentiful repast of bread and cheese, and nut-brown ale, began playing. The venerable appearance of the musician, the simple melody of his harp, recalled to Amanda's recollection the tales of other times, in which she had so often delighted : it sent her soul back to the ages of old, to the days of other years, when bards rehearsed the exploits of heroes, and sung the praises of the dead.

" While the ghosts of those they sung, came in their rustling winds, and were seen to bend with joy towards the sound of their praise." To proceed, in the beautiful language of Ossian, " The sound was mournful and low, like the song of the tomb ; " such as Fingal heard, when the crowded sighs of his bosom rose ; and, " some of my heroes are low," said the gray-haired King of Morven : " I hear the sound of death on the harp. Ossian, touch the trembling string. Bid the sorrow rise, that their spirits may fly with joy to Morven's woody hills. He touched the harp before the king : the sound was mournful and low. Bend forwards from your clouds," he said, "ghosts of my fathers, bend. Lay by the red terror of your course. Receive the falling chief ; whether he comes from a distant land, or rises from the rolling sea, let his robe of mist be near ; his spear, that is formed of a cloud ; place an half-extinguished ABBE Y. meteor by his side, in the form of the hero's sword.

And, oh I let his countenance be lovely, that his friends may delight in his presence. Bend from your clouds," he said, " ghosts of my fathers, bend." The sweet enthusiasm which arose in Amanda's mind, from her present situation, her careful nurse soon put an end to, by reminding her of the heavy dew then falling. Amanda could have stayed for hours in the garden ; but resigning her incli nation to her nurse's, she immediately accompanied her into the house. She soon felt inclined to retire to rest ; and, after a slight supper of strawberries and cream (which was all they could prevail on her to touch), she withdrew to her chamber, attended by the nurse and her two daughters, who all thought their services requisite ; and it was not without much difficulty Amanda persuaded them to the contrary.

Left to solitude, a tender awe stole upon the mind of Amanda, when she reflected that in this ver}' room her mother had expired. The recollection of her sufferings — the sorrows her father and self had experienced since the period of her death — the distresses they still felt and might yet go through — all raised a sudden agony in her soul, and tears burst forth. She went to the bed, and knelt beside it; " Oh ! my mother," she cried, " if thy departed spirit be permitted to look down upon this world, hear and regard the supplications of thy child, for thy protection amidst the snares which may be spread for her. Yet," continued she, after a pause, " that Being, who has taken thee to himself, will, if I continue innocent, extend his guardian care : to Him, therefore, to Him be raised the fervent prayer for rendering abortive every scheme of treachery."

She prayed with all the fervency of devotion ; her wander ing thoughts were all restrained, and her passions gradually subsided into a calm. Warmed by a pure and ardent piety, that sacred power which comes with healing on its wings to the afflicted children of humanity, she felt a placid hope spring in her heart, that whispered to it, all would yet be well. She arose tranquil and animated. The inhabitants of the cottage had retired to repose ; and she heard no sound save the ticking of the clock from the outside room. She went to the window, and raising the white calico curtain, looked down the valley ; it was illumined by the beams of the moon, which tipped the trees with a shadowy silver, and threw a line of radiance on the clear rivulet. All was still, as if creation slept upon the bosom of serenity.

Here, while contemplating the scene, a sudden flutter at the window startled her; and she saw in a moment after a bird flit across, and perch upon a tree whose boughs shaded the casement ; a soft serenade was immediately begun by the sweet and plaintive bird of night. Amanda at length dropped the curtain, and sought repose ; it soon blessed her eyelids, and shed a sweet oblivion over all her cares. " Sleep on, sweet innocent! And when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lacquey it, Driving far off all thought of harm or sin." — Milton.

Chapter II

H Canst thou bear cold and hunger ? Can these limbs, Framed for the tender offices of love, Endure the bitter gripes of smarting poverty ? When in abed of straw we shrink together, And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads, Wilt thou talk to me thus, Thus hush my cares, and shelter me with love ? '' — Otway. Fitzalan, the father of Amanda, was the descendant of an ancient Irish family, which had, however, unfortunately attained the summit of its prosperity long before his entrance into life ; so that little more than a name, once dignified by illustrious actions, was left to its posterity. The parents of Fitzalan were supported by an employment under government, which enabled them to save a small sum for their son and only child, who at an early period became its sole master, by their dying within a short period of each other.

As soon as he had in some degree recovered the shock of such calamities, he laid out his little pittance in the purchase of a commission, as a profession best suiting his inclinations and finances. The war between America and France had then just com menced ; and Fitzalan's regiment was amongst the first forces sent to the aid of the former. The scenes of war, though dread fully affecting to a soul of exquisite sensibility, such as he possessed, had not power to damp the ardor of his spirit ; for, with the name, he inherited the hardy resolution of his pro genitors. He had once the good fortune to save the life of a British soldier ; he was one of a small party, who, by the treachery of their guides, were suddenly surprised in a wood, through which they were obliged to pass to join another detachment ol the army.

Their only way in this alarming exigence was to retreat to the fort from whence they had but lately issued : encompassed as they were by the enemy, this was not achieved without the greatest difficulty. Just as they had reached it, Fitzalan saw far behind them, a poor soldier, who had been wounded at the first onset, just overtaken by two Indians. Yielding to the impulse of compassion in which all idea of self was lost, Fitzalan hastily turned to his assistance, and flinging himself between the pursued and the pursuers, he kept them at bay till the poor creature had reached a place of safety. This action, performed at the imminent hazard of his life, secured him the lasting gratitude of the soldier, whose name was Edwin ; the same that now afforded an asylum to his daughter. Edwin had committed some juvenile indiscretions, which highly incensed his parents ; in despair at incurring their resentment, he enlisted with a recruiting party in their neighborhood : but, accustomed all his life to peace and plenty, he did not by any means relish his new situation.

His gratitude to Fitzalan was unbounded ; he considered him as the preserver of his life ; and, on the man's being dismissed, who had hitherto attended him as a servant, entreated he might be taken in his place. This entreaty Fitzalan complied with ; he was pleased with Edwin's manner ; and, having heard the little history of his misfortunes, promised, on their return to Europe, to inter cede with his friends for him. During his stay abroad, Fitzalan was promoted to a captain lieutenancy ; his pay was his only support, which, of necessity, checked the benevolence of a spirit " open as day to melting charity." On the regiment's return to Europe, he obtained Edwin's discharge, who longed to re-enter upon his former mode of life. He accompanied the penitent himself into Wales, where he was received with the truest rapture.

In grief for his loss, his parents had forgotten all resent ment for his errors, which, indeed, had never been very great : they had lost their two remaining children during his absence, and now received him as the sole comfort and hope of their age. His youthful protector was blest with the warmest gratitude : tears filled his fine eyes, as he beheld the pleasure of his parents, and the contrition of the son ; and he departed with that heartfelt pleasure, which ever attends and rewards an action of humanity. He now accompanied his regiment into Scotland ; they were quartered at a fort in a remote part of that kingdom. Near the fort was a fine old abbey, belonging to the family of Dunreath ; the high hills which nearly encompassed it, were almost all covered with trees, whose dark shades gave an ap pearance of gloomy solitude to the building.

The present possessor, the Earl of Dunreath, was now far advanced in life ; twice had he married, in expectation of a male heir to his large estates, and twice he had been disappoint ed. His first lady had expired immediately after the birth of a daughter. She had taken under her protection a young female, who, by unexpected vicissitudes in her family, was left destitute of support. On the demise of her patroness, she retired from the Abbey to the house of a kinswoman in its vicinity ; the Earl of Dunreath, accustomed to her society, felt his solitude doubly augmented by her absence. He had ever followed the dictates of inclination, and would not disobey them now : ere the term of mourning was expired, he offered her his hand, and was accepted. The fair orphan, now triumphant mistress of the Abbey, found there was no longer occasion to check her natural pro pensities.

Her soul was vain, unfeeling, and ambitious ; and her sudden elevation broke down all the barriers which prudence had hitherto opposed to her passions. She soon gained an absolute ascendancy over her lord — she knew how to assume the smile of complacency, and the accent of sensibility. Forgetful of the kindness of her late patroness, she treated the infant she had left with the most cruel neglect ; a neglect which was, if possible, increased, on the birth of her own daughter, as she could not bear that Augusta (instead of possessing the whole) should only share the affection and estates of her father. She contrived by degrees to alienate the former from the inno cent Malvina ; and she trusted, she should find means to deprive her of the latter. Terrified by violence, and depressed by severity, the child looked dejected and unhappy ; and this appearance,_ Lady Dunreath made the Earl believe, proceeded from sulkiness and natural ill-humor.

Her own child, unrestrained in any wish of her heart, was, from her playful gayety, a constant source of amusement to the Earl ; her mother had taken care to instruct her in all the little endearments which, when united with infantine sweetness, allure almost imperceptibly the affections. Malvina, ere she knew the meaning of sorrow, thus became its prey ; but in spite of envy or ill treatment, she grew up with all the graces of mind and form that had distinguished her mother; her air was at once elegant and commanding; her face replete with sweetness ; and her fine eyes had a mixture of sensibility and languor in them, which spoke to the feeling soul. Augusta was also a fine figure ; but unpossessed of the winning graces of elegance and modesty which adorned her sister, her form always appeared decorated with the most studied art, and her large eyes had a confident assurance in them, that seemed to expect and demand universal homage.

The warriors of the fort were welcome visitants at the Abbey, which Lady Dunreath contrived to render a scene of almost constant gayety, by keeping up a continual intercourse with all the adjacent families, and entertaining all the strangers who came into its neighborhood. Lord Dunreath had long been a prey to infirmities, which at this period generally confined him to his room ; but though his body was debilitated, his mind retained all its active powers. The first appearance of the officers at the Abbey was at a ball given by Lady Dunreath, in consequence of their arrival near it ; the gothic apartments were decorated, and lighted up with a splendor that at once displayed taste and magnificence ; the lights, the music, the brilliancy, and unusual gayety of the company, all gave to the spirits of Malvina an agreeable, flutter they had never before experienced ; and a brighter bloom than usual stole over her lovely cheek.

The young co-heiresses were extremely admired by the military heroes. Malvina, as the eldest, opened the ball with the colonel ; her form had attracted the eyes of Fitzalan, and vainly he attempted to withdraw them, till the lively conversation of Augusta, who honored him with her hand, forced him to restrain his glances, and pay her the sprightly attentions so generally expected — when he came to turn Malvina, he involuntarily detained her hand for a moment : she blushed, and the timid beam that stole from her half-averted eyes, agitated his whole soul. Partners were changed in the course of the evening, and he seized the first opportunity that offered for engaging her ; the softness of her voice, the simplicity yet elegance of her language, now captivated his heart, as much as her form had charmed his eyes.

Never had he before seen an object he thought half so lovely or engaging ; with her he could not support that lively strain of conversation he had done with her sister. Where the heart is much interested, it will not admit of trifling. Fitzalan was now in the meridian of manhood ; his stat ure was above the common size, and elegance and dignity were conspicuous in it ; his features were regularly handsome, and the fairness of his forehead proved what his complexion had been, till change of climate and hardship had embrowned it ; the expression of his countenance was somewhat plaintive : his eyes had a sweetness in them that spoke a soul of the tenderest feelings; and the smile that played around his mouth, would have adorned a face of female beauty. When the dance with Lady Malvina was over, Lady Augusta took care for the remainder of the evening to engross all his attention.

She thought him by far the handsomest man in the room, and gave him no opportunity of avoiding her ; gallantry obliged him to return her assiduities, and he was by his brother officers set down in the list of her adorers. This mistake he encouraged : he could bear raillery on an indifferent subject ; and joined in the mirth, which the idea of his laying siege to the young heiress occasioned. He deluded himself with no false hopes relative to the real object of his passion ; he knew the obstacles between them were insuperable ; but his heart was too proud to complain of fate ; he shook off all appearance of melancholy, and seemed more animated than ever. His visits at the Abbey became constant ; Lady Augusta' took them to herself, and encouraged his attentions : as her mother rendered her perfect mistress of her own actions, she had generally a levee of redcoats every morning in her dressing room.

Lady Malvina seldom appeared ; she was at those times almost always employed in reading to her father ; when that was not the case, her own favorite avocations often detained her in her room ; or else she wandered out, about the romantic rocks on the sea-shore ; she delighted in solitary rambles, and loved to visit the old peasants, who told her tales of her departed mother's goodness, drawing tears of sorrow from her eyes, at the irreparable loss she had sustained by her death. Fitzalan went one morning as usual to the Abbey to pay his customary visit ; as he went through the gallery which led to Lady Augusta's dressing-room, his eyes were caught by two beautiful portraits of the Earl's daughters ; an artist, by his express desire, had come to the Abbey to draw them ; they were but just finished, and that morning placed in the gallery.

Lady Augusta appeared negligently reclined upon a sofa, in a verdant alcove; the flowing drapery of the loose robe in which she was habited, set off her fine figure ; little Cupids were seen fanning aside her dark-brown hair, and strewing roses on her pillow. Lady Malvina was represented in the simple attire of a peasant girl, leaning on a little grassy hillock, whose foot was washed by a clear stream, while her flocks browsed around, and her dog rested beneath the shade of an old tree, that waved its branches over her head, and seemed sheltering her from the beams of a meridian sun. " Beautiful portrait ! " cried Fitzalan, " sweet resemblance of a seraphic form ! " He heard a soft sigh behind him ; he started, turned, and perceived Lady Malvina ; in the utmost confusion he faltered out his admiration of the pictures ; and not knowing what he did, fixed his eyes on Lady Augusta's, exclaiming, " How beautiful 1 " " 'Tis very handsome indeed," said Malvina, with a more pensive voice than usual, and led the way to her sister's drawing-room.

Lady Augusta was spangling some ribbon ; but at Fitzalan's entrance she threw it aside, and asked him if he had been admiring her picture ? — " Yes," he said, " 'twas that alone had prevented his before paying his homage to the original." He proceeded in a strain of compliments, which had more gal lantry than sincerity in them. In the course of their trifling he snatched a knot of the spangled ribbon, and pinning it next his heart, declared it should remain there as a talisman against all future impressions. He stole a glance at Lady Malvina ; she held a book in her hand ; but her eyes were turned towards him, and a deadly paleness overspread her countenance. Fitzalan's spirits vanished ; he started up, and declared he must be gone immediately. The dejection of Lady Malvina dwelt upon his heart ; it flattered his fondness, but pained its sensibility.