THE first thought that struck the amazed Sophia was, that Sir Charles, either following the motions of his natural inconstancy, or in revenge of her supposed contempt of him, had married Harriot. Certain that she had now lost for ever this lover, who with all his real or imputed faults, she had never been able to banish from her heart, she resigned herself up to the sharpest agonies of despair, and had already arrived at her sister’s house before she was able to stop the course of her tears.
A servant in the livery of her own family opened the door. This circumstance surprised Sophia, who pulling her hat over her eyes to conceal her disorder, asked him, with some hesitation, if his mistress was at home.
The fellow replied, he believed she was, and opening the coach-door, shewed her into a parlour, telling her, with a smart air, that he would enquire of his lady’s woman whether she was visible yet or no.
Sophia having summoned all her fortitude to enable her to go through this severe trial with dignity, had time enough to recollect and compose herself before any one appeared; and now several circumstances rushed upon her memory which in the first transports of her astonishmentt and grief had escaped her attention.
Mrs. Darnley, in her letter, had not mentioned Harriot’s marriage, but barely said she had left her. The servant who delivered her message called her miss Darnley; and though she lived in a house that belonged to Sir Charles, yet it was scarcely suitable to the quality of his wife.
A few moments reflection upon these appearances made the generous Sophia change the object of her concern. The misfortune for which she had grieved so much, seemed light, compared with that she apprehended: she wept no longer for the inconstancy of her lover; she trembled for the honour of her sister; and her greatest fear now was, that Sir Charles was not married.
While she was absorbed in these melancholy thoughts, Harriot’s maid entered the room, who after glancing over Sophia, with a supercilious eye, (for she was very simply drest,) asked her, ‘If she had any business with her lady.’
‘Tell her, replied Sophia, that her sister is here.’
The girl blushed, courtesied, and flew to acquaint her mistress; and Sophia was instantly desired to walk up stairs.
She found Harriot in her dressing-room, in an elegant dishabille, having just finished her morning’s work, which appeared in a suit of ribbons made up with great taste.
As soon as she saw Sophia, she rose from her chair, and saluted her with affected dignity; but at the same time with an air of embarrassment that encreased every moment: so that being unable to bear the sweet but penetrating looks of her sister, she resumed her work, altering and unripping, without any apparent design, yet affecting to be extremely busy, and to shew how perfectly she was at ease, talked of the most trifling matters imaginable, while Sophia gazed on her in silent anguish, anxious to know the truth of her situation, yet dreading to have it explained. At length she told her that she was going to Kensington to her mother, and desired to know if she had any message to send to her.
Harriot suddenly interupting her, as if she feared some further questions, began to exclaim against her mother’s unreasonable temper, saying, that she had offended her violently only because she had it not in her power to comply with some very extravagant expectations which she had formed.
‘Sister, said Sophia, I am wholly ignorant of your affairs; I know not what cause of discontent you have given my mother, but I see there is a great alteration in your condition of life, and I hope—’
‘What do you hope, pray miss? interrupted Harriot, reddening: I suppose I am to have some of your satirical flings; your temper is not altered I find.’
‘Dear Harriot, resumed Sophia, with tears in her eyes, this causeless anger confirming her suspicions, why do you reproach me with being satirical? is it a crime to be anxious for your happiness?’
‘I wish you would not trouble yourself about me, replied Harriot, I know best what will make me happy; you should not pretend to instruct your elders, miss Sophy; I am older than you; you know, you have often upbraided me with that.’
‘Sister, said Sophia calmly, you desired to see me, have you any thing to say to me?’
‘I know, answered Harriot, that I shall meet with ungrateful returns for my kindness, nevertheless I shall act like a sister towards you, and it was to tell you so that I wished to see you: I very much doubt whether, if you were in prosperity, you would do the same by me.’
‘Have I behaved so ill in adversity then, said Sophia, that you form this harsh judgment of me, sister?’
‘Pray don’t upbraid me with your behaviour, miss, said Harriot; other people may have behaved as well as you, though they are not prudes.’
‘You say you are in prosperity, sister, said Sophia, but perhaps you and I have different notions of prosperity: let me know the truth of your situation, and if I find you happy according to my notions of happiness, you will soon be convinced that I can take a sister’s share in it.’
‘I am not obliged to give an account of my conduct to you, replied Harriot, who had listened to this speech with great emotion; and I must tell you, sister Sophy, that if you go on taking this liberty of questioning and censuring me, I shall not care how seldom I see you. As to my mother, I know that it is my duty to do every thing for her that is in my power; and this I have offered to do already.’
Saying this, she rang the bell, and her maid appearing, she gave her some orders which necessarily required her attendance in the room; so that Sophia, finding she could have no further discourse with her sister, rose up and took leave of her with an aching heart. Her griefs all aggravated by the apprehension of her sister’s dishonour, and the hatred which she felt for Sir Charles, as her seducer, struggling with a tender remembrance, her gentle bosom was torn with conflicting passions, and she proved but too well the truth of that maxim, That philosophy easily triumphs over past and future evils, but the present triumph over her.
Mrs. Darnley received her daughter with unusual tenderness: she felt how much she stood in need of her filial care; and her behaviour was dictated by that interested kindness which only gives in expectation of receiving back doublefold.
Sophia saw her pale and emaciated, and was greatly affected with the sight: she would not mention her sister, for fear of discomposing her; but Mrs. Darnley soon introduced the subject that was most in her thoughts, and exclaimed against Harriot’s undutifulness and want of affection with the most violent transports of passion.
‘I have been the best of mothers to her, said she, melting into tears; I have always indulged her in all her wishes, and impaired my circumstances to support her extravagancies, and how has she returned this kindness! would you think it, my dear Sophy, though she is in affluent circumstances, and I, by the loss of my annuity, am plunged into all my former distresses, she has refused to pay those debts which I contracted during the time she lived with me; and thinks it sufficient to invite me to reside in her house, where, no doubt, I should feel my dependence severely.’
‘Sir Charles, said Sophia sighing, does not act with his usual generosity; if he has married my sister, why does he suffer you to be in distress?’
“Married your sister!” repeated Mrs. Darnley, in astonishment.
‘Ah, madam, resumed Sophia, is she not married then to Sir Charles?’
‘Why, is it possible that you can wish him to be married to Harriot?’ said Mrs. Darnley.
‘Alas! cried Sophia, ought I not to wish it, when I see her in his house?’
‘Oh, resumed Mrs. Darnley, I perceive your mistake; but that house is not Sir Charles’s now; Lord L— bought it of him, with the furniture, some time ago; it might have been yours, and without any offence to your virtue too, yet you thought fit to refuse it: but I will not pretend to reprove one so much wiser than myself—’
‘Well, madam, interrupted Sophia eagerly, then it is not to Sir Charles that my sister is married, to whom is she married?’
“You have seen her, have you not?” said Mrs. Darnley, looking a little confused.
‘I have indeed seen her, said Sophia, but she did not explain her situation to me.’
‘And do you imagine, resumed Mrs. Darnley peevishly, that she would be less reserved with her mother? and if she was afraid of telling you the truth, is it likely she would own it to me?’
‘Then I fear it is bad indeed with Harriot, cried Sophia, in a melancholy accent, since she has so much to conceal from a mother and a sister.’
‘You were always censorious, Sophy, said Mrs. Darnley, with some passion; for my part, I am resolved to think the best. If Lord L—is married privately to your sister, her character will one day be cleared to the world, and she thinks no prudent person can blame her, for chusing to bear for a time a few undeserved censures, rather than to struggle with poverty and contempt.’
Sophia, now convinced of Harriot’s unhappy conduct, burst into tears. Mrs. Darnley after looking at her in silence a moment, said, with some confusion; ‘Then you do not believe your sister is married, Sophy?’
‘Ah, madam, replied Sophia, you do not say that you know she is, and whatever reasons there might be for concealing her marriage from the world, certainly there are none for hiding it from you.—In vain, added she, with still greater emotion, would your parental tenderness seek to deceive yourself.’
‘Reproach me no more with my tenderness for your sister, interrupted Mrs. Darnley, angrily; I am too much affected with her ingratitude already.’
‘I am sorry she is ungrateful, said Sophia; but oh! my dear mama, it is not fit you should accept of her assistance.’
‘I hope, said Mrs. Darnley, calling down her eyes, that I know what is fit for me to do as well as my daughter.—But Sophy, added she, after a little pause, I am sorry to tell you, if you do not know it already, that if you have still any thoughts of Sir Charles, you deceive yourself; I am very well informed, that a match has been proposed to him, and he has given so favourable an answer, that it is expected the marriage will be concluded, as soon as he comes from Paris: I heard it all from one of the young lady’s relations.’
This was a severe stroke to poor Sophia, who had just begun to breathe again, after the anguish she had suffered, in the belief that Sir Charles had forsaken her for her sister, and added perfidy and baseness to his inconstancy.
Mrs. Darnley, who saw her turn pale, and her eyes swimming in tears, while she struggled to conceal her emotions, could not help being affected with her distress, and endeavoured to console her.
Sophia, more softened by this tenderness, suffered her tears to flow a few moments unrestrained; then suddenly wiping her charming eyes, ‘Pardon this weakness, madam, said she; this indeed is not a time to weep for myself, your sorrows claim all my tears.’
‘Aye, I have sorrows enough, Heaven knows, said Mrs. Darnley, my debts unpaid, my annuity gone, what have I to trust to?’
‘Providence, interrupted Sophia, your piety and my industry. Alas! my dear mama, your greatest affliction is not the loss of your annuity, or the debts with which you are encumbered, it is my sister’s unhappy fall from virtue. That parent, pursued she, who sees a beloved child become a prey to licentious passions, who sees her publicly incur shame and reproach, expelled the society of the good and virtuous, and lead a life of dishonour, embittered with the contempt of the world, and the secret upbraidings of her own conscience; that parent can best judge of your anguish now: I have only a sister’s feelings for this misfortune! but these feelings are strong enough to make me very unhappy.’
Mrs. Darnley appeared so much moved with this discourse, that Sophia pursued it, till she brought her mother to declare, that she would rather suffer all the inconveniencies of poverty, than give a sanction to Harriot’s guilt, by partaking of its reward.
Sophia, to relieve her anxiety, laid down a plan for their future subsistence, and proved to her, that by her skill in several little useful arts, it would be easy for her to supply her with all the necessaries of life. “We will first, said she, pay your debts.”
“How is that to be done?” said Mrs. Darnley, hastily.
‘The furniture of your house, said Sophia, the plate, and other pieces of finery, which Sir Charles Stanley presented to you, will, if converted into money, not only pay your debts, but provide a little fund for present expences, and a reserve for future exigencies; mean while, my industry and care will, I hope, keep want far from you. I have friends, who will find employment for my little talents; and if I can but make your life easy and comfortable, I shall think myself happy.’
Mrs. Darnley, with tears in her eyes, embraced her daughter, bid her dispose of every thing as she pleased, and assured her she would endeavour to bear her new condition of life with patience and resignation.
Sophia immediately wrote to a gentleman of the law, who had been an intimate friend of her father’s▪ and he undertook to manage their little affairs in town. A few days afterwards he brought them fifty pounds, which was all that remained from the sale, after every demand upon Mrs. Darnley was paid.
She read over the accounts with great emotion, bitterly regretting every trinket she had parted with, and told Sophia, that it was absolutely necessary they should settle in some village near town, for she could not bear the thoughts of exposing her poverty to her acquaintance, and of being seen in a worse condition than formerly.
Sophia, who thought her declining health a better reason for not residing in London, hired in an adjacent village, at a very small rent, a little house, or rather cottage, so neat, and situated so happily, that an imagination lively as hers was, and a little romantick, could not fail of being charmed with it. To this place she removed her books, and being provided by her friend Dolly, with an innocent country girl for a servant, she conducted her mother to her rural abode, and had the satisfaction to find her pleased with it, novelty having always charms for her, and here for a few days, it supplied the place of those other gratifications to which she had been accustomed.
In the midst of these cares, Sophia did not forget her unhappy sister: she wrote several letters to her, in which she employed all the power of virtuous eloquence to bring her to a sense of her errors, but in vain.
Harriot did not deign to answer her, but in a letter to her mother, she complained of the injurious treatment she received from Sophia, and earnestly intreated her to leave her sister, and reside with her.
Although Mrs. Darnley refused this offer with seeming steadiness, yet her discontent was but too apparent. A life of retirement, which often obliged her to seek in herself, those resources against languor and melancholy, which she used to find in the dissipations of the town, could not be grateful to one who had never accustomed herself to reflection, whose mind was filled with trifles, and its whole stock of ideas derived from dress, cards, and every other fashionable folly.
To be capable of enjoying a rural life, there is something more necessary than a good understandin: innocence and purity of manners must contribute to give a relish to pleasures, which are founded in reason, virtue, and piety.
Hence it was, that Sophia, in the bloom of youth, found happiness in the solitude of a village, while her mother, in a declining age, panted after the vanities of the town.
In vain, did Mr. Herbert fill the letters he wrote to Mrs. Darnley, with maxims of morality and pious admonitions; he experienced here the truth of that observation, that it is a work of great difficulty, to dispossess vice from a heart, where long possession seems to plead prescription.
Sophia, who knew her mother’s taste for living at ease, that she might be able to gratify it, applied herself diligently to her work, which was a piece of embroidery, that had been bespoke by a benevolent lady, in order to give her present employmen; and, by exhibiting it as a proof of her ingenuity, to procure her more. She likewise exercised her invention in drawing little designs for fanmounts; and always chose such subjects as conveyed some moral lesson to the mind, while they pleased the imagination.
Some of these drawings were disposed of, by the lady her friend, so advantageously, that Sophia was encouraged to pursue her labour; and Mrs. Darnley, flattered by the prospect of more easy circumstances, began to enlarge her scheme of expence, made little excursions about the country in a post-chaise, talked of hiring a better house, and of passing two months at least in London during the winter.
Mean time Harriot became more earnest in her solicitations to her mother, to come and live with her; her situation began to be so generally suspected, that she was in danger of being wholly neglected.
She wrote to her in a strain of tenderness and duty, that revived all the ill-judging parent’s affection, who invited her to make her a visit in her little retreat, and promised her a favourable reception even from Sophia herself.
Sophia was indeed far from opposing this visit; she was rather desirous of drawing her sister thither frequently, with a hope that her example and her arguments, might one day influence her to change her conduct.
Harriot received this invitation with joy; for such was the depravity of her mind, that she exulted in having an opportunity of displaying the granduer of her dress, and equipage to her sister; to her who had made virtuous poverty her choice, and shewn that she despised riches, when they were to be purchased by guilt. The pride of human nature (says an eminent writer) takes its rise from its corruption, as worms are produced by putrefaction.
The wretched fallen Harriot was proud! the diamonds that glittered in her hair, the gilt chariot, and the luxurious table; these monuments of her disgrace contributed to keep up the insolence of a woman, who by the loss of her honour was lower than the meanest of her servants, who could boast of an uncorrupted virtue.
Sophia was busily employed upon her embroidery, when Harriot, from her gay chariot, alighted at her door; she entered that humble abode of innocence and industry, in a kind of triumph, and accosted her sister with a haughty expression of superiority in her looks and air, as if she expected the splendor of her appearance should strike her with awe.
Sophia received her with the modest dignity of conscious virtue; and Harriot, tho’ incapable of much reflection, yet soon perceived the miserable figure she made, in the presence of such a character, and stood silent and abashed, while Sophia contemplated her finery with an eye of pity and of anguish.
Harriot, at length recovering herself, asked for her mother, who that moment entered the room. The sight of her daughter’s equipage, had thrown her into an agreeable flutter of spirits, and she readily pardoned the fine lady, all the faults of the ungrateful child.
Harriot emboldened by so kind a reception, proposed to her to accompany her to town, promising to make her abode with her agreeable, by every instance of duty and affection.
Mrs. Darnley blushed, and was silent. Sophia fixed her eyes upon her mother, anxious and impatient for her answer; she cast a timed glance at Sophia: she read in her speaking eyes her sentiments of this proposal; and turning to Harriot, she told her faintly, that not being satisfied with her conduct, it would be very improper for her to countenance it, by residing with her.
Harriot burst into tears, and exclaimed against her sister’s malice, who, she said, acted like her most cruel enemy, and sought to ruin her character, by estranging herself from her company, and preventing her mother from taking notice of her.
Sophia, with great gentleness, proved to her, that the loss of her reputation, was the necessary consequence of her living in a manner unsuitable to her circumstances; that her mother and her, by complying with her request, could not preserve her from censure, but would incur it themselves.
‘You call me cruel, Harriot, said she, for estranging myself from your company; but consider a little, whether it is not you that are both cruel and unjust. Why would you deprive me of the only reward the world bestows on me, for a life of voluntary poverty; you have exchanged a good name for dress and equipage; and I, to preserve one, subject myself to labour and indigence: you enjoy your purchase; but I should lose mine, were I to have that complaisance for you which you require. Leave me my reputation then, since it is the sole recompence of those hardships to which I willingly submit; and if you wish to recover yours, be contented to be poor like me.’
Sophia, finding her sister listened to her, tho’ it was sullenly, and with down cast eyes, expatiated in a tender manner upon the errors of her conduct, and the fatal consequences that were likely to follow.
Harriot at length interrupted her, with a pert air, and said, ‘She would not be taught her duty by her younger sister;’ then turning to her mother, ‘I hope madam, said she, my sister will not have so much power with you, as to make you forbid my coming here.’
She put her handkerchief to her eyes, as she said this; to which Mrs. Darnley replied, with great vehemence, ‘That no person on earth should ever prevail upon her to cast off her child.’
Sophia was silent, and observing that her presence seemed to lay them under some restraint, she rose up, to retire to her work, telling her sister, as she passed by her, ‘That far from hindering her visits, she would rather encourage her to repeat them often, that she might be convinced it was possible, to be happy in a cottage.’
Harriot laughed, and muttered the words romantick and affectation, which Sophia took no notice of, but left her at liberty to converse freely with her mother.
Mrs. Darnley talked to her at first in a chiding strain, and affected to assume the authority of a parent; but, a slave to her appetites, she could not resist any opportunity of gratifying them; and Harriot found it no difficult matter to force a present upon her, to supply those expences which her extravagance, and not her wants, made necessary.
Harriot now came often to the village, and gave it out, that she was upon the best terms imaginable with her mother and sister, not doubting but the world would cease to suspect her, since Sophia approved her conduct.
The frequency and the length of her visits made Sophia entertain hopes of her reformation, since the time she spent with her mother, was taken from that dangerous and immoral dissipation, which forms the circle of what is called a gay life. For it is with our manners as with our health; the abatement of vice is a degree of virtue, the abatement of disease is a degree of health.
Mr. Herbert being perfectly recovered, filled Sophia with extreme joy, by the account he sent her of it, and of his resolutlon to come and live near her.
While she impatiently expected his arrival, and sent many a longing look towards the road, near which her little cottage was situated, she one day saw a gentleman ride by full speed, who in his person and air had a great resemblance to Sir Charles Stanley. Her heart, by its throbbing emotion, seemed to acknowledge its conqueror; for poor Sophia was still in love: she loved, though she despaired of ever being happy; and by thus persisting in a hopeless passion, contradicted that maxim, that love like fire, cannot subsist without continual motion, and ceases to be as soon as it ceases to hope or fear.
Sophia, not able to remove her eyes from the place where she fancied she had seen Sir Charles, continued to look fixedly towards the road, and was beginning to believe she had been mistaken, when a servant in Sir Charles’s livery rode by also, and put it out of doubt that she had really seen the master.
This unexpected incident awakened a thousand tender melancholy ideas in her mind; and finding herself too much softened, she had recourse again to her work, to divert her imagination from an object, she had vainly endeavoured to forget.
[To be concluded in our next..]
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