University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

Scrap Book.

“I have no doubt,” said Mrs. Meredith,
“that I am the person against whom the designs
of this man are directed. It seems, indeed,
strange that, after the lapse of eighteen
years, he should discover me in a retired corner
of a distant country, and stranger yet, that
he should still be actuated with a desire to disturb
my peace.

“You are already acquainted with part of my
history before I arrived, as your brother's
wife, in this country. You are aware, that my
father's name was Harris, that he was a Colonel
in the service of the English East India Company,
and that having lost my mother in my
infancy, I was, on my father being ordered to
India, with his regiment, which was in my
ninth year, placed under the care of a sister of
my mother, then the widow of Sir Robert
Radnor. This lady was a notable, pleasant,
and rather morally disposed woman, and I
believe sincerely attached to me. She had one

son, her only child, the inheritor of his father's
title and property. This youth was about three
years older than myself. He was the idol of
his mother, and consequently a wilful and
wayward boy. His temper was boisterous and
turbulent, and to his mother, notwithstanding
all the tenderness she lavished upon him, he
was frequently disobedient and sometimes rude.
To me, however, he always manifested great
attention; and I was scarcely fourteen when he
declared himself my lover. I was perhaps too
young to be susceptible of tender emotions; but
whether or not, neither the person, conduct,
manners, nor disposition of my cousin, were
calculated to make an impression on my heart. I
had, in fact, imbibed an insurmountable aversion
towards him. Before his declaration, his complaisance
to me, demanded and always obtained
mine in return. But after that event, I could
barely tolerate him. He ascribed my coldness
to youthful shyness, and romantically pretended
to love me the more for it.

“Affairs remained in this state for several
months, when his mother interfered in his behalf.
My father had acquired great wealth in
India; and in point of fortune, placing out of
view the affection which I believe she really
felt for me, I was an eligible match for her son.
Her interference, however, produced towards
him no favourable change in my sentiments.

I now began to experience great diversity of
treatment from her. Sometimes I was flattered
and caressed, and at other times threatened
and abused. The young baronet, in the meantime,
never ceased persecuting me with his
addresses, so that my situation became very
unpleasant, and I took the resolution to write
to my father on the subject.

“My aunt, however, had anticipated me in
this measure. In less than two months after I
had written, I received a letter from my father,
in which he stated, that the prospect of a union
between me and Sir Robert Radnor, afforded
him great satisfaction; and he trusted that my
feelings towards Sir Robert, fully responded
to the ardent affection the latter professed for
me. In which case, it would be the greatest
pleasure of his life, to give his parental sanction
to our nuptials.

“This letter did not answer the designs of
my persecutors, so completely as they wished.
It contained a recommendation, but laid on me
no injunction, in relation to the proposed match.
I, therefore, felt at liberty still to reject the
baronet's addresses; and I hoped, that when,
from my own letter, my father should become
acquainted with the true state of my feelings,
he would not urge me into a measure against
which I entertained such strong repugnance.

“In the meantime an occurrence took place,

which awakened in my bosom new feelings,
and gave a new direction to the tenor of my
life. My aunt had some slight indisposition,
which drove her to Bath. I accompanied her.
One day, as we sat in our drawing room, we
heard the noise of some tumult on the street.
We hastened to a window. We saw a crowd,
and soon understood that an officer of the law
was dragging a poor man to prison for debt.
His wife had overtaken the procession at this
spot, and when we first looked out, she was pathetically,
but vainly imploring the relentless
creditor, who was present, for mercy. The unfeeling
man, irritated at having his barbarity
thus exposed on the street, rudely and with insulting
language, drove the distracted woman
from him. The word `shame! shame!' burst
from the crowd. Several persons of the affluent
classes, had stopped to look upon the scene
and sympathized with the sufferers, so far as to
join in the cry of indignation that had been
raised. But they did no more! and the procession
was again moving forward, when a young
man, habited as a Quaker, hastened towards
the creditor, who was at that moment pushing
the debtor's wife, with some violence, out of
his way.

“ `What does thee mean,' demanded he,
`by thy violence towards this woman?'

“ `It is none of your business,” replied the

man, surlily, again pushing the woman from before
him, and directing the bailiff to move forward
with the prisoner.

The young Quaker caught the poor woman's
arm in his.

“ `Fear not,' said he, `I will protect thee.
Tell me thy grievance!—That man is too angry
to be spoken with.'

“ `Alas!' she replied, `they are dragging
my husband to prison for debt, and my poor
children shall be doomed to starvation.'

“ `What is the amount of thy claim against
this poor man?' asked the stranger, again addressing
the creditor.

“I heard no more. I felt I had been inactive
too long. An impulse had suddenly seized
me, which was uncontrollable. I was impelled
by a fatality which I could not resist, and
was, indeed, hardly responsible for what I
did. I hurried down stairs, and my aunt had
scarcely noticed my departure from the room,
before I was in the midst of the crowd, pressing
my purse into the hands of the debtor's wife.

“Take this, I beg of you,” said I, “and if
it be sufficient to rescue your husband from
the hands of these cruel men, let him be set
at liberty immediately. If not sufficient, I will
furnish whatever additional sum shall be necessary.”

` “He is no longer a prisoner,' answered the

woman refusing to accept the money I offered.
The bounty of that blessed young gentleman
has released him.—Oh! let me, let me thank
him.”

“I looked up. I caught he young man's
glance. It warmed my heart; it was so expressive
of kindness and benevolence.

` “Fair young lady,' said he, `I have satisfied
this harsh creditor, and the prisoner
is free. But thee has a good heart which
should not be deprived of its gratification. This
woman ought to accept of thy benefaction, for
I understand that she is very poor, and that
her children are in want of proper sustenance.'

` “Oh! do, I beg thee, take it,' said I to the
woman, forcing the money into her hand. She
received it; and I hurried back, in extreme
confusion, to the apartment where I had left
my astonished aunt. I had scarcely explained
to her the impulse under which I had acted,
when my confusion was increased by a message
from the young stranger, who called himself,
Edward Meredith, requesting permission
to wait upon me, which my aunt readily granted.
He entered, apologised for the freedom
he had taken; but said he, addressing me—

` “Thy goodness of heart, which was so powerful
as to overcome thy evident reluctance to
appear in a crowd, struck me as something so
rare and admirable, in a young lady of thy
rank, that I could not resist my desire to express

to thee how much I respect thee for it.
I arrived in Bath only this morning, and have
taken lodgings in the inn opposite to this
house. If thy aunt and thee have no objection,
permission to visit you sometimes, while
I remain in Bath, will afford me much pleasure.'

“My aunt signified her acquiescence.—But I
will not detain you with a repetition of the conversation
which ensued. It produced an impression
on my heart in favour of your brother;
for you are aware that this youth was he; the
recollection of which to this day makes it glow
with precious and dear feelings. He visited
us frequently, and soon took occasion to declare
that he loved me, and I did not deny—
for I could not be disingenuous with one whom
I conceived to be all candour and goodness—
that his affection was returned.

“This sweet intercourse of united hearts was
soon interrupted. My cousin, Sir Robert, joined
us at Bath, and with the Argus eye of a
jealous lover, discovered what his mother had
not even suspected.

` “It cannot be possible,' said she, when her
son informed her of his convictions on the subject,
`that a girl so gay and lively as Matilda,
should encourage the addresses of a plain and
formal Quaker! You must be mistaken, Sir
Robert. Your jealousy alarms you needlessly.
The thing is quite impossible.'

“It was resolved, however, that we should
leave Bath immediately; and much to my regret,
I was obliged to withdraw from the society
of him who had given to my heart a new
feeling, and lent my life sensations of endearment
and delight it had never before experienced.

“We returned to our former residence in
London, where I was subjected to the unremitting
and vexatious solicitations of my cousin,
to become his wife. His mother was scarcely
less urgent than himself, and their united importunities
on this hateful subject rendered me
truly miserable. In the course of a few weeks,
the impatience of the young baronet, irritated,
as he was, by the unyielding and unqualified
firmness of my refusal, became irrepressible,
and his manner of addressing me assumed a
boldness it had never exhibited before. He
upbraided me with my attachment to your brother,
and threatened vengeance upon the latter
for what he called his audacity in making pretensions
to my favour. My alarm, lest these
threats should be performed, added greatly to my
unhappiness. I wished exceedingly to apprize
Edward of his danger, and to urge him to fly
from the country, or at least avoid meeting with
the incensed baronet. But with Edward, I had
no means of communicating. Since leaving
Bath, I had neither seen him, nor heard of

him, and delicacy forbade me to attempt inquiring
after him.

“About six weeks after our return to London,
I was constrained to accompany my aunt to a
country-lodge, near Hatfield, belonging to Sir
Robert who followed us the next day. Having
stopped at an inn on the road for refreshment,
our footman, to my great astonishment,
took an opportunity of slipping the following
note into my hand, whispering, `Read this in
private.'

“`A scheme is laid to entrap or enforce thee
to marry thy cousin. If thee wilt be firm,
Providence may enable me to rescue thee from
thy tormentors. I watch all their movements,
but in such attire as prevents them from discovering
me. May Heaven protect thee!

`Thy loving friend,
E. Meredith.'

“This communication revived my spirits. The
second day after we reached the lodge, my
aunt put into my hands a letter from my father,
in which, after remonstrating with me for
rejecting the addressess of Sir Robert, he laid
his parental injunctions on me to receive him
without delay, as my husband, threatening me
with his utmost displeasure in the event of my
refusal.

“Never!' said I; `never will I receive him
as my husband. My father knows not the extent

of the sacrifice he demands. But whether
or not, even a father has no right to command
his child to be wretched.'

“That evening, as I sat alone in my own
chamber, absorbed in melancholy reflections on
my unhappy situation, the door slowly opened,
and the dreaded figure of my cousin presented
itself. After some fulsome panegyrics on my
my beauty, and vehement declarations of the
ardour of his passion, he protested, that since
he had obtained my father's approval of our
union, he would not leave me, until a day
should be fixed for its accomplishment.

“I remained firm. I was indignant at his unmanly
intrusion on my privacy, and I declared
that no power on earth should ever compel me
to be his.

“His countenance became inflamed, his eyes
darted looks of terrific rage, and he swore that
if, by to-morrow evening at the same hour, I
did not yield to his entreaties, he would do a
deed of horror, by which my happiness would
be for ever sacrificed to the gratification of his
passions, and at the recollection of which I
should tremble to the latest hour of my existence.
He then withdrew, locking the door
on the outside, as if resolved to prevent my
escape from the catastrophe he had threatened.

“In an agony of grief and terror, I threw myself
on my knees and supplicated Heaven for

deliverance from the power of my tormentor.
My mind being too much agitated to permit
sleep and feeling too much alarmed to resign
myself to the defenceless condition to which
my retiring to bed would reduce me, since the
key of my chamber was in possession of the
object of my terror, I sat up, and resigned myself
to the most gloomy meditations on my
prospects. In this state I was startled, at about
one o'clock in the morning, with a low voice
whispering at my window. I soon recognised
it to be that of our footman. He displayed a
letter. I opened the window and received it.
It was from Edward.

“`I know the extremity to which thou art
reduced,' said he, `and the evils that threaten
thee. If thou wouldst escape them, fly immediately.
Francis, thy footman is faithful, entrust
thyself to him. He will bring thee to
where I am waiting for thee, having every
thing arranged for thy safe conveyance from
the reach of thy persecutors.'

“I blessed Heaven for this interposition. In
a few minutes I was ready, and descended the
ladder which was affixed to my window. A
few minutes more placed me in a carriage beside
my Edward. We drove off rapidly, my
heart beating with that species of delightful trepidation
which a bird may be supposed to feel
when it has escaped from the snares of the

fowler. In less than a week we were privately
married at Bristol, and embarked the next
day in a ship bound for Philadelphia. The remainder
of my story you know. You were
witness to my happiness for the few years that
Heaven permitted me to enjoy the best and
dearest of husbands, and you are aware of the
reverence and love with which I have cherished
his memory, as well as the assiduity with
which I have endeavoured to perform my duty
to the dear pledge which he has left me,
my beloved son, watching over whose welfare
is the charm that has long formed the chief
enjoyment of my life.”