University of Virginia Library

To Colonel Bellville.
Seven o'Clock.

WE expect the caro Enrico every moment: my chariot is gone for Emily Howard and my niece; Lord Melvin too comes this evening by my permission. Lady Julia has just asked me to walk with her in the park; she wants to hear me talk of Harry, whom she cannot mention herself, though her thoughts are full of nothing else; he color comes and goes; her eyes have a double portion of softness; her heart beats with apprehensive pleasure. What an evening of transport will this be! Why are you not here, Bellville? I shall absolutely

be one of the old people to-night. Can you form an idea of happiness equal to Harry's? Raised form the depth of despair, to the fruition of all his wishes. I long to see how he will receive the first mention of this happy turn of fortune: but Lady Mary has reserved all that to herself.

Adieu!

Great God! to what a scene have I been witness! How shall I relate the shocking particulars?

Lady Julia and I were advanced about a quarter of a mile from the house, blessing Providence, and talking of the dear hope of future happy days; she was owning her passion with blushes, and all the tremor of modest sensibility, when we were interrupted by the clashing of swords behind some trees near us; we turned our heads, and saw Lord Melvin, distraction in his air, his sword bloody, supporting Harry Mandeville,

pale, bleeding, motionless, and, to all appearance, in the agonies of death. Lady Julia gave a shriek, and fell senseless in my arms. My cries brought some of the servants, who happened to be near; part of them, with Lord Melvin, conveyed Harry to the house; whilst the rest staid with me to take care of Lady Julia.

Harry was scarce out of sight when she recovered her senses; she looked wildly towards the place where she first saw him, then, starting from me, raising her eyes to Heaven, her hands clasped together–Oh! Bellville! never shall I lose the idea of that image of horror and despair–she neither spoke nor shed a tear–there was an eager wildness in her look, which froze my soul with terror: she advanced hastily towards the house, looking round her every moment, as if expecting again to see him, till, having exhausted all her strength, she sunk down breathless on one of the seats, where I supported her till my Lord's chariot,

which I had sent for, came up, in which I placed myself by her, and we drove slowly towards the house: she was put to-bed in a burning fever, preceded by a shivering, which gives me apprehensions for her, which I endeavour to conceal form the wretched parents, whose sorrows mock all description.

My Lord is just come from Lord Melvin, who insisted on being his prisoner, till Harry was out of danger; disdaining to fly from justice, since my Lord refuses his stay at Belmont, he intreats to be given into the hands of some gentleman near. My Lord has accepted this offer, and named his father Lord Rochdale for the trust. He is gone under the best guard, his own honor, in which Lord Belmont has implicit confidence.

I have been into Lady Julia's room; she takes no notice of any thing. Emily

Howard kneels weeping by her bedside. Lady Belmont melts my soul when I behold her; she sits motionless as the statue of Despair; she holds the hand of her lovely daughter between hers, she presses it to her bosom, and the tears steal silently down her cheeks.

Unable to bear the sight, I am returned to my apartment.

Oh! Bellville! How is this scene of happiness changed! Where are now the gay transporting hopes which warmed our hearts this morning?

I have with difficulty prevailed on Lady Mary, who droops under this weight of affliction, and whose years are ill-suited to scenes of horror, to set out this evening for her own seat; my niece, whose sorrow you may easily imagine, is to accompany her thither: if Mr. Mandeville dies, murdered

by the hand of him with whose fate hers is connected, never must she again enter these hospitable doors.

Bellville! how is the gay structure of ideal happiness fallen in one moment to the ground!

The messenger who was sent to Lord T — 's is returned, and has brought my Lord's letter; he went from thence to Mr. Herbert's, where Mr. Mandeville was supposed to be, but found nobody there but a servant, from whom he could get no information. The family had been gone five days to London, being sent for express to a relation who was dying.

Oh! Bellville! how many accidents have conspired — I myself have innocently contributed to this dreadful event, misled by my Lord's equivocal expressions, which seemed to point so plainly at Lord Melvin

–If he dies–But I will not give way to so shocking an idea. The servant who went for a surgeon is not yet returned; till his wounds are examined, we must be in all the torture of suspense and apprehension.

Eleven o'Clock.

The surgeon is come; he is now with Mr. Mandeville: how I dread to hear his sentence!–The door opens–He comes out with Lord Belmont; horror is in the face of the latter–Oh! Bellville! my presaging heart–they advance towards me –I am unable to meet them–my limbs tremble–a cold dew–

Bellville! his wounds are mortal–the pen drops from my hand–

A farmer's son in the neighbourhood has just brought the enclosed letter for Mr. Mandeville, which, not knowing the consequence, my Lord has opened.