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The Mysterious Marriage, or, the Will of my father

Ward, afterwards Mason, Catharine George · 1820 · Scanned text

188,507 words · about 13 h 12 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
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Licence: PDM · British Library Digitised Books dataset db14 (doi 10.21250/db14) marks the OCR texts CC Public Domain Mark 1.0 (c. 1510-c. 1900 publications); text+metadata JSONL release doi 10.23636/r7w6-zy15 is CC0 1.0. Public Domain Mark is a status label, not a new copyright licence. · Digitised by the British Library (with Microsoft). Text: British Library Digitised Books, CC Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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About this book

Author
Ward, afterwards Mason, Catharine George
Language
English
Published
1820
Length
188,507 words · about 13 h 12 min
Sections
33 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public Domain Mark 1.0

 

Contents (33)
  1. Front matter about 4 min
  2. Chapter 1 about 6 min
  3. Chapter II about 19 min
  4. Chapter III about 12 min
  5. Chapter IV about 15 min
  6. Chapter V about 18 min
  7. Chapter VI about 24 min
  8. Chapter VII about 15 min
  9. Chapter VIII about 16 min
  10. Chapter IX about 17 min
  11. Chapter X about 42 min
  12. Chapter XII about 33 min
  13. Chapter XIV about 37 min
  14. Chapter XVI about 21 min
  15. Chapter XVII about 24 min
  16. Chapter XVIII about 24 min
  17. Chapter XIX about 23 min
  18. Chapter XX about 35 min
  19. Chapter XXI about 16 min
  20. Chapter XXII about 46 min
  21. Chapter XXIV about 20 min
  22. Chapter XXV about 23 min
  23. Chapter XXVI about 31 min
  24. Chapter XXVII about 29 min
  25. Chapter XXVIII about 26 min
  26. Chapter XXIX about 29 min
  27. Chapter XXX about 27 min
  28. Chapter XXXI about 26 min
  29. Chapter XXXII about 24 min
  30. Chapter XXXIII about 26 min
  31. Chapter XXXIV about 31 min
  32. Chapter XXXV about 11 min
  33. Chapter XXXVI about 43 min

Continue:

Front matter

' CATHERINE GTlVARD^^ L O JTJD 0 J* I*irf>l2s7ied by J . Talli s . /. Warwick Squ, Jfewqatts Street. CONTENTS. -s^So- PAGE Chap. I.— The White Collage 5 Chap. II. — An Accident, which leads lo an important Disclosure 10 Chap. III. — Trelawney 's introduction at the White Cottage 25 Chap. IV. — The Will, and an interesting Secret 34 Chap. V. — Tenderness, Sympathy and Generosity elicited 45 Chap. VI. — Love and Jealousy 59 Chap. VII. — The Reconciliation ; and the departure of Trelawney and Henry 78 Chap. VIII. — A Sketch of the Fitzosbourne Family. . . 89 Chap. IX. — Death of Lady Fitzosbourne ; Arrival of Trelawney and Henry in London, and their introduction at Fitzosbourne House 102 Chap. X. — Lady Alexina's Character pourlrayed. .... 116 Chap. XI. — Trelawney's determination to make a Two Years' Tour on the Continent, and the consequent chagrin of Lady Glenthorpe and Lady Alexina; Description of the Duke of Valencia's Family ; Mysterious visit to Lady Glenthorpe 132 a CONTENTS.

Chap. XII. — Trelawney's Reflections on the mysterious visit to Lady Glenthorpe ; more urgent reasons for Trelawney's making his intended Tour 151 Chap. XIII. — A peep at the amiable Families at Kenilworth and Elm Grove, and the happy occasion of Henry's visiting his Father 166 Chap. XIV. — Marriage of Philip Bradbury and Rebecca Clarendale ; their visit to London, accompanied by Rosa Clarendale and Mary Bradbury 1 80 Caap. XV. — Description of the Ball at Valencia Lodge ; Trelawney' s reflections there ; a Tale of Scandal. . 1 96 Chap. XVI. — Philip Bradbury's visit to Trelawney, at Lord Fitzosbourne's, and their interesting conversation; Rosa's Generosity 210 Chap. XVII. — Visit ta, Covent Garden Theatre ; Meeting of the Fitzosbourne party and Clarendale family there, agitation of Trelawney, Rosa, and young Stanton on the occasion 227 Chap. XVIII. — Trelawney's generous present to Mrs. Philip Bradbury, Rosa, and Mary Bradbury ; farther act of Trelawney' s Generosity 247 Chap. XIX. — Pretended jealousy of Lady Alexina, and chagrin of Lady Glenthorpe ; Doctor Stanton's Friends visit the Opera House ; insulting conduct of the Marquis of Montrevoirs, and timely assistance of Trelawney 357 Chap. XX. — Montrevoirs' s challenge lo Trelawney ; the Marquis's conduct on that occasion ; fears of Rosa and Lord Fitzosbourne for the safety of Trelawney ; insensibility of Lady Alexina 286 Chap. XXI. — Interesting reflections upon the termination of the affair of honor ; uneasiness at Valencia Lodge ; introduction of a new and singular character ihere CONTENTS.

Chap. XXII. — Sudden departure of the Bradburys and Rosa for Kenilworth, on account of the alarming indisposition of Mrs. Clarendale ; Queensbury' s interesting narrative of his sister Amelrosa 327 Chap. XXIsl. — Discovery of Lady Alexina's extensive gambling by the Earl, and consequent chagrin of the two Ladies ; visit of Henry Clarendale at Fitzosbourne House 343 Chap. XXIV. — Friendly conversation of Trelawney and Henry ; levity of conduct of Lady Glenthorpe ; chagrin and vexation of her Ladyship 364 Chap. XXV. — Generosity of Trelawney towards Lady Glenthorpe ; Specimen of Madame de Valmont's interesting poetry 381 Chap. XXVI. — Letter from Lady Glenthorpe to Henry Clarendale, and his reply to her Ladyship; Trelawney's visit to Elm Grove 400 Chap. XXVII. — Trelawney's overtures for the Marriage of Henry Clarendale and Mary Bradbury, and proposed liberality on that occasion 426 Chap. XXVIII. — Marriage of Elizabeth Bradbury to young Mr. Mildmay, and jovialities on the occasion ; appointment of Henry Clarendale to the Rectory of Coventry 449 Chbp.

Chapter 1

The White Cottage. J_N that part of England, where the gentle Avon meanders through the fertile plains of Warwickshire, and not far distant from the spot which gave birth to the great poet of nature, stood the White Cottage, — a structure, which, though it could not boast of splendid elegance, was venerable from its antiquity, and attractive, from its neatness and simplicity. It was situated at the declivity of a sloping hill, modestly rising above a clump of trees, by which it was surrounded. From time im memorial it had been the residence of the village clergy man ; and, at the period when this history commences, was occupied by the Rev. Mr. Clarendale. For twenty years this worthy pastor had performed the duties of his sacred calling with undeviating fidelity and zeal ■ at once illustrating and enforcing the precepts he taught, by a spotless example.

To all his parishioners he was well known ; and by all of them most affectionately beloved. The cottages of the indigent, — the bed-sides of the siek and dying, were his constant resorts. To the former, when his circumscribed means precluded him from aiding their wants by pecuniary gifts, be afforded encouragement, by directing their minds to a gracious and superintending Providence; and to the latter, he administered those consoling truths, which soften the bed of death, and point to a blissful immortality. Of him it might truly be said, that he was " More bent to raise the wretched, than to rise." In the early part of his life, the bright prospects of fortune opened to his view. The only child of an affectionate father, whose affluence was great, and who was extensively embarked in mercantile concerns, he was considered the heir of a large property.

But the prc cariousness and uncertainty of sublunary things, were fatally exemplified in she person and affairs of the father of Mr. Clarendale. Heavy and successive losses at sea, accompanied with other miscarriages in his concerns, produced embarrassments, which neither his honorable character nor utmost efforts could effectually counteract ; and he was ultimately precipitated from the high pinnacle of fortune, to ruin, and almost to penury. These reverses operated so powerfully on the mind of the old gentle man, that he fell a prey to dejection and melancholy, and finally quitted the world, just before his son had attained his seventeenth year. Thus cast on the stage of life, his hopes of competency blasted, young Clarendale found himself an helpless fu gitive, and a defenceless orphan, for in his early youth, he had been deprived, by death, of the tender solicitude and fostering care of an affectionate mother.

Yet, amidst these gloomy and discouraging circumstances, the hand of Providence was gently clearing his way. A few re spectable friends of his late father took him under their protection ; and with the view of qualifying him for the church, sent him to the Universify, to prosecute and complete his studies. It is no common occurrence in life, that young men of his age, nursed in the lap of fortune, and born to high expectations, can bear with any tolerable degree of patience the frustration of their hopes ; nor descend without deep regret, from the eminence of prosperity into the vale of humble life. Mr. Clarendale was, how ever, an exception to this general rule. — He could not but feel indeed, for a moment, the severity of the shock which this sudden transition in his fortune had occa sioned ; but, calling into action the excellent principles he had imbibed in his youth, and summoning the aids of Christian philosophy, he retired with dignity, and without a murmur, to comparative obscurity.

This temper of mind he sedulously cultivated during his residence in the University ; and, combining profound learning with Christian piety, he became eminently qualified for those ministerial labours which were so honorable to himself and beneficial to his parishioners. Having entered into holy orders, and a vacancy occurring for a clergyman in this parish, he was, through the interest of those friends who had procured his education, appointed to the living, which was but moderate in its income, and of which the White Cottage was the parsonagediouse. Soon after entering upon this important charge, Mr. Clarendale consummated, by marriage, an attachment founded on the purest principles : an union, which, though it added but little to the worldly interest of the worthy pastor, conferred such a stock of felicity as rendered him one of the happiest men in the neighbourhood.

If fortune had denied to him her golden stores, nature had furnished him with a lovely and virtuous wife, and further enriched him with three beauteous and promising children, a son and two daugh ters ; of whom it might be said, when they were born, that their mother looked on twin-roses, so perfectly and strongly had nature stamped them with a resemblance to each other; the only difference was, that Rebecca, the elder, had blue eyes, and Rosa, the younger, dark hazel ; but purify and simplicity reigned in each, and the silver toned voice of both sisters breathed in one : when Rebecca was absent, she was present in Rosa ; and when Rebecca was only by, Rosa could not be forgotten. A striking resemblance of each, was also visible in the fine countenance of their brother, Henry, who, when he was eighteen, might have rivalled the sculptor's art to have drawn a more perfect model of manly beauty.

It must be confessed, however, that exterior beauty and acquired elegancies of person, are not the objects by which the character is to be estimated. No. These are no more than what the casket is which contains the pre cious jewel. It is the mind, the intellect, the temper and disposition of the heart, that form the criteria by which to judge of the man, or of the woman. No one could be more sensible of this estimate than the worthy pastor at the White Cottage ; and none could take more pains than he did to impress upon the minds of his children, the value and excellency of intellectual acquirements and moral vir tues. Nor had he laboured in vain. At the age already stated, Henry Clarendale exhibited talents of the most pro mising order ; gave evidences of a mind influenced by the noblest sentiments ; and a heart susceptible of the most generous and amiable feelings; — while his lovely sisters excelled in all the softer virtues of the sex, and shone in all the brilliancy of native simplicity.

While thus the White Cottage contained such amtable ness and excellence, it is not unnatural to conclude, that all care and anxiety, all painful solicitude, were banished from the favored roof :— such, indeed, was the case with the inmates in general; especially with regard to the younger branches of the family. But, even the brow of the reverend messenger of peace, notwithstanding the severity of that discipline which he had long inflicted upon himself, would now and then be clouded with care, when he looked at his rising family, and viewed the scan tiness of his means to provide for their future interests. Not, indeed, that he suffered himself to sink into a state of melancholy forbodings. No; he had a settled con yietion of the justness and goodness of Providence ■ and whenever he found the approach of a fretful thought, he soon dismissed it, and reproved his own heart for listening to any suggestion that would be dishonorable to the government of his Creator.

" Why," he would say to himself, « why should I repine at, or dispute the dispen sations of heaven, while I have been the subject of such numerous and stupendous mercies ? Early in life was I forsaken of all earthly protectors ; but even then she kindness of heaven interposed, and provided an asylum for the child of misfortune. Though fortune has been niggardly in her gifts, yet is not this deficiency abun dantly compensated by the endearments of an affectionate wife, and the sweet solace of my amiable children, whose virtuous youth is unsullied by crime, and in whose countenances is the ruddy glow of health ? Rather, therefore, let the homage of grateful adoration be offered J to the dispenser of all my mercies, than that I should for a moment indulge in repining at my lot, or suffer a mur muring accent to escape my lips."

Mrs. Clarendale, though she had greatly profited by the calm and philosophic temper of her husband, was not free from those solicitudes which maternal fondness feels on the view of a dependant progeny, who look up to parental affection for help and succour. Yet, upon the whole, the inhabitants of the White Cottage were a contented and happy family ; and if splendour was a stranger within the hallowed walls, so also was ambition. It is not abundance that ministers to real enjoyment ; but he who is content and grateful for what he has, be it little or much, can never be an unhappy man.

Chapter II

An Accident, which leads to an important Disclosure. On the evening of a fine summer's day, just before the sun sunk behiud the western hills, Mr. and Mrs. Clarendale were seated together in an alcove, in the front of the White Cottage, enjoying the delicious breezes, and the still more exquisite delights of connubial inter course. As was not unfrequently the case, their children's welfare and prosperity formed the subject of their con versation ; and the spirits of the happy pair were more than usually elated. " Our dear children, Clarendale," fondly uttered the enraptured mother, " our dear children" " Are the only treasures that we have," rejoined her husband : " And w ithout them," added she, '■ what would treasures avail ?" a glistening tear resting, like the dew on opening roses, on the dark blue eyes of Mrs. Clarendale, which pene trated the heart of the pastor.

" My Fanny," exclaimed he, " I believe you have seldom found me addicted (o compliment ; but I never think you so exquisitely lovely, as when you are thus speaking of our dear children. I should feel very unwilling to excite in you fallacious hopes, in regard to our fortune and future prospects, the disappointment of which would only tend to inflict a new wound ; but I cannot conceal from you, that of late my mind has been strongly impressed with a persuasion, that kind Providence has some peculiar good in store for us and ours, which will enable us to realize our utmost wishes in reference to our offspring. " At this moment, the interesting conversation was inter rupted by the arrival of their youngest daughter, Rosa, who had just returned from an evening walk. " O papa," exclaimed the dear girl, almost out of breath, " have you not heard of the serious accident that has occurred this evening in the village ?"

" What accident, my dear :" " Why," returned Rosa, " a post-chaise, drawn by four horses, and containing a young gentleman, a stranger in this country, and his black servant, has been overturned just opposite Mr. Wiggins's, the sign of the Turnpike house, and it is said they are both very much injured." " And what has become of the gentleman and his ser vant ?" " They were shewn to Mr. Wiggins's ; and, I heard it remarked, that they must stop there until their vehicle could be repaired, which, I am told, cannot be done before to-morrow; or until they are sufficiently recovered, which may not be so soon." " Did you say, the gentleman was a stranger in these parts ?" " Yes, Sir, I was so informed ; and, if I do not greatly mistake, some person remarked, that he has the appearance of a foreigner."

The emotions which this story produced on the heart of Mr. Clarendale, were those of compassion and sym pathy ; and he instantly formed the resolution of tender ing his services to the stranger in his present unfortunate circumstances. " Heaven forbid, my dearest Fanny," exclaimed he, "that old English hospitality should be set aside, merely because people are not known to each other. If he be sick, I may be able to minister to his health ; if forlorn, to comfort him; and at all events, to solace him with the charms of friendly society, which is seldom unwelcome to a person in a strange place. If he be capable of being removed to the White Cottage, he shall be welcome to its best cheer, and all the attention which his peculiar situation requires." Mrs. Clarendale having cordially assented to the kind intentions of her husband in favor of the unknown visfc tant, he set off, on his errand of kindness, towards the village alehouse, but a very short distance, where he learnt from Mrs. Wiggins, the landlady, that the injury sustained by the gentleman; on the breaking down of the carriage, was so slight as to occasion to him but trifling inconvenience, and that of Mungo, his black servant, was still less.

It may be necessary to remark, that before Mr. Cla rendale's arrival, very serious, and somewhat boisterous debates had arisen between Mr. and Mrs. Wiggins, on the subject of suitable accommodations for their unknown OH, THE WILL OF MY FATHER ; guest. They were alike fond of turning the penny ; and there was another trait in their character, which was equally similar, namely, that for the space of thirty years, they had each been contending for the mastery ; and as no decisive victory had been obtained by either party, the contest was always renewed on every fresh occasion. Whatever one proposed, the other, without any regard to the intrinsic merit of the case, had always a thousand objections against. This cause, in conjunc tion with the contiguity of a good market town, had powerfully operated to drive or draw away genteel tra vellers from the Turnpike-house, very few seeming willing to seek refuge under its roof, except in cases of accident, as in the instance before us.

It is true the house could boast its Nos. 1, 2, and 3, of lodging-rooms, yet so seldom were they tenanted, that Mrs. Wiggins had occupied them as store-rooms, for the preservation of her family-stock of potatoes, bacon, and other articles of consumption. Now, after the arrival of the stranger, and the necessity of the case rendering it apparent that he must take up liis residence there, at least for the night, Mr. Wiggins commenced his virulent attack upon his spouse.— " There," said he, " what is to be done now ? You have crammed our bed-rooms with your lumber, stripped the beds of their linen, turned the furniture topsy-turvey, and made the Turnpike-house into a wilderness. Here is a gentleman," continued he, " with servant and horses, who mayhap will be forced to stop here for some days, by whom we might turn a pretty penny, and we haven't a room to put him into that's fit for a travelling tinker."

Mrs. Wiggins, who was not remarkable for patience under reproof, resented the accusation with great fury. 1. c She insisted that, as mistress of the house, she had & right to dispose of its concerns as she liked ; that, for her part, siie wouldn't give a fig for the custom of gentlefolks, who wanted a great deal of waiting on, and spent little ; and that as for the man in the parlour, that he called a gentleman, she thought him no better than the rest, who all pretended to be such. The landlord here attempted a justification of his opinion, by reckoning up how much profit would be derived from each horse and each man per day ; but he had raised such a storm in his dear rib, that all his efforts at demonstration, only tended to in flame her warmth of temper, and increase the volubility of her tongue.

" I know," continued she, " all that you want these kind of folks to come to the house for, is, that you may sit idling away your time and sotting with them ; and, for once, to tell you my mind, it was to pre vent such trumpery stopping here, and your guzzling with them, that I filled our bed-rooms with more valu able commodities. I'd have you to know that the Turn pike-house is my own ; it was kept by my mother, that's dead and gone, before me; but, if you must have had your way, you would long ago have thrown the house out of the windows, as the saying is." During this sharp engagement, poor Mungo, the stranger's servant, who was an African by birth, and who was most endearingly attached to his master, sat at the chimney corner of the kitchen, smoking a segar, and, thinking his master dishonorably reflected upon in some parts of Mrs. Wiggins's harangue, had^ in vain, made several attempts to defend him.

But now, Mrs. Wigo-ins having exhausted her strength, rather than her subject, he seized the first moment of silence, and with some warmth, thus addressed her:— "You no say trufh of OR, THE WI1L OF MY FATHER. 15 my massa; — my massa is no trumpery; — he be gentle man; — he pay all; — he give much money; — he good heart ; — you bad woman for say bad of my massa." This eloquent defence of his master, and the reproof which it conveyed to the infuriated landlady, was far from being disagreeable to Mr. Wiggins, who considered it an attestation of his own statement, and was about to give vent to his triumph, when he was anticipated by his wife, who, casting a disdainful look upon Mungo, exclaimed, "Why, you outlandish black, how can you have the assurance to call me names ? and in the presence of a man that calls himself my husband ; if he had the spirit of a man, he would instantly turn you out of doors ; and if you shew any more impertinence, I will do it my self."

" You no turn me out of doors from my massa," retorted the African, " me stop where my massa stop ; and if you hurt Mungo, me make you suffer." At this moment, the enraged hostess, having a bason of boiling water in her4hand, was about to discharge it in Mungo's face, when she suddenly recollected, that she had some where heard or read, that black people had the power of concealing poison under their nails, and the faculty of communicating its baneful influence to any one whom they supposed had done them an injury ; and she made no doubt but that the concluding sentence in Mungo's re joinder, contained a threat of retaliating upon her in this way. Never was there a more sudden, or a more com plete change in the colors of the ever-varying cameleon, than was now produced in the temper and deportment of Mrs. Wiggins.

The consideration that she had given cause of offence to Mungo, and that it was in his power to resent it, by inflicting upon her the mortal venom, operated like magic. The sour, sot bidding frown upon THE MYSTERIOUS MARlllA-GE; 16 her countenance was succeeded by a placid smile ; and affecting a laugh, she addressed her sombre visitant in accents of tenderness and kindness :— " Well, my worthy friend," said she, « I have only been scolding to try your temper ; and speaking slightingly of your master, to see whether you would defend him, and whether you had a real regard for him : he shall have the best entertainment this house can afford. I will instantly order the two best bed-rooms to be cleared, one for the gentleman, your master, and the other for you ; and you may depend upon it, you shall have no cause to regret that accident has brought you under the hospitable roof of the Turnpike house ; for I loves to be kind to strangers."

Then turning to Mr. Wiggins, with an affability that he had not witnessed for many a long year, " Come, my dear," said she, " sit down, and smoke your pipe, and enjoy yourself with our worthy stranger, over a tankard of our two years old best; I am quite delighted with our com pany." Every spark of resentment fled from the bosom of the honest African: he felt himself highly complimented; joy sparkled in his sable countenance, and his ivory teeth were more conspicuous than ever. As for the landlord, it would require the pencil-of an Hogarth to do justice to the figure he exhibited. Before his wife had half finished her tender address, his countenance was fixed in surprise and astonishment ; and when she had concluded her invitation to him, he well pourtrayed a man just recovering from a trance.

Being ignorant of the cause that had occasioned this sudden transformation in his wife, he could not help thinking, so far at least as his amazement left him the faculty of thought, that some invisible power had wrought a miracle upon her. Her OR, IHli WILL OF MY FATHER. soft and flexible carriage, however, having continued for at least half an hour, during which he received many au affectionate glance and speech, he at last began to trust the evidence of his senses, and to believe that his wife was certainly a changed woman. How long Mrs. Wig gins retained this happy temper of mind, it is not for this history to enquire; but this is certain, that her apprehension at being infected with the poison under Mungo's nails procured for the travellers a more cordial reception than they otherwise would have received.

Mrs. Wiggins was now busily employed in forwarding supper, for Mungo had bespoke for his master a couple of fowls, and just before she was ready to serve it up, was the identical time when Mr. Clarendale entered the house. Having made the enquiries, and received the in formation as to the extent of injury received by the tra vellers, as already stated, he informed Mrs. Wiggins, that, hearing of the accident, and apprehending it was more serious than it proved to be, he had stepped down to tender any service in his power on the occasion. Mungo, who never lost sight of his master's interests or comforts, rose, and making a low bow, said, " You very good, Sir, very good. My massa gentleman ; and me know, my massa would glad to see you, he like good company." The landlady was commissioned to announce to her guest, who was sitting alone in the parlour, his arrival, and the object of his visit; and did not fail to eulogize the character of Mr. Clarendale, nor forget to inform him, that he was the clergyman of the parish.

The stranger received the message with great courtesy and real pleasure ; and requested that he might instantly be shewn info the room. On his entrance, mutual civilities THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE; were interchanged, void of that stiffness and embarrass ment which pride and affectation generally produce in first interviews. He found in him, though comparatively a youth, the accomplished gentleman ; his person hand some and elegant ; his mind stored with knowledge ; his manners gentle and suasive ; and in the whole of his demeanor, combining dignity with affability. " I come, Sir," said Mr. Clarendale, after some general conversation, " to solicit the pleasure of your company at my cottage, until the damage occasioning the accident which detains you here, be repaired : the accommoda tions of a village alehouse are but ill suited to your station ; and the absence of social intercourse will render still more irksome the tedious hours of delay.

I cannot warrant you a splendid mansion, or the luxuries of fashionable life, but, with the most ingenuous sincerity, and a warm heart, I offer you my bed, my table, and the best attentions of my wife and family." Just as Mr. Clarendale had concluded his invitation, Mrs. Wiggins entered with supper, which she served up in her best style ; the young gentleman politely excusing himself from accepting Mr. Clarendale's entreaty, observing, that the accommodations of the house were a matter of indifference to him, considering his short stay ; and concluded by pressing him for his company to sup per, and a glass of wine. " On one condition," rejoined Mr. Clarendale, " I accept the invitation, and that is, that you, and your servant, afterwards accompany me to my house, which is in the immediate neighbourhood, and remain there until you proceed on your journey."

The proposal was acceded to, and a messenger dispatched to the White Cottage, to prepare Mrs. Clarendale for (h. reception of her two inm«*tes. <==~Ztu/u^Jyleæt4tJcAfA*^7i& 6> A/ayon/3 Mrs. Wiggins, having heard the final result of the engagement between the two gentlemen in the parlour, respecting the removal of the stranger and his servant (o the White Cottage, communicated the information to her husband and Mungo, with much apparent regret ; declaring she was almost heart-broken at the thought, and especially to lose so good a soul as the worthy ser vant. This was, however, all pretence ; for the supposed poison lodged under Mungo's nails had taken such fast possession of her brain, that she could think of nothing else. She could not finally dismiss her fears, that the black might still retain a sense of her abuse, and before he left the house avenge himself upon her.

Moreover, the restraint imposed upon her temper and tongue, by her fears, was almost insupportable. The prospect of their leaving the house, therefore, on that night, was to her a source of unmingled pleasure. Mr. Wiggins was differently affected; for, besides the reduction of the shot, in eating, drinking and lodging, he could not but fear, that the removal of his guests might cause his wife's unruly member to resume its accustomed clamour. As to Mungo, who had several times listened at the parlour door, and heard his master converse with great cheerfulness, he was still on the happy key ; such was the undisguised interest which he felt in his master's happiness or misery, that they seemed, upon all occasions, to be identified with his own. " Me no care," said he, '* massa is happy : when massa happy, Mungo happy ; and 31ungo sad, when massa sad."

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