Sarah :: :: University of Virginia Library

I WAS unable to restrain the inclination I felt
to watch the countenance of Darnley, whilst he
perused the letter; he appeared considerably
agitated; he crumpled it up, and turning hastily

to me, asked, “Who brought this letter?” “A
woman.” “Did you see her?” “No, I did not,
but if I could judge from the tone of her voice,
she was in great distress.” “She is in great distress,”
he replied. “I hope then, you will do
what you can to serve her.” “You hope, Sarah?”
“Yes, Mr. Darnley; are you surprised at
my expressing an interest for an afflicted woman?”
“No, but she is an entire stranger to
you, and why should you wish or care about
her?” “Only as a distressed fellow creature.”
“Well, I shall think about her in the morning.”
“And visit her, won't you? She seemed very
anxious to see you.” “Yes, and visit her, if you
desire it.” I perceived he was in one of those
kind of humors, which only waits the opportunity
of saying ill natured things, and is ready to
catch and repeat every word, in order to cavil
at it, so imagined I should shew most prudence
in remaining silent. You have never been married,
Anne; so cannot inform me whether it is so
or not, but if every married man is so captious,
and petulant, so angry at their wives' only expressing
a difference in opinions in the mildest
words: I wonder how any woman can be so passionately
attached to them. But, perhaps, that
passionate attachment prevents their seeing any
fault in them, and they, supposing all the man,
thus idolized, says, does, or thinks is right, never
take the trouble of contradicting him; assent
implicitly to his opinions, however absurd, and
will not exert their own mental powers to think

or decide for themselves. Happy beings! but
this is a kind of felicity in which I shall never be
a partaker. Yet Darnley is not what the world
calls an ill tempered man, nor of the lowest order
in point of understanding; and heaven is my
judge, I try to view every action, every word, in
the fairest point of view, and I really think if he
was to take a different method from what he
does, I should in time teach my heart to feel for
him every sentiment, which it is necessary to
form a complete system of permanent happiness,
at least, as far as it depends on a mutual interchange
of kind offices, and that solicitude to promote
each other's peace of mind, which ought
to be constantly kept in view, by persons residing
continually under the same roof, and destined
to pass their lives together. But to return, I
have reason to think that neither of us passed a
very pleasant night. Darnley was restless, and
slept little, sighed frequently, and seemed anxiously
watching for daylight, as he arose several
times, and unclosed the shutter to look out;
this being the case, it cannot be supposed I
rested very well; however, about four o'clock,
I fell into a sound sleep, and on awaking at half
past eight, found he was risen and gone out. I
dressed hastily, that I might be ready for breakfast
when he returned: it was near ten o'clock
when he came in. “Well,” said he, throwing
his hat into a chair, “why have you waited
breakfast? I have been to see Mrs. Romain, and
have breakfasted with her.” “Been to see who,

cousin George?” said Miss Melbourn, looking
hastily up from a book, which she had been reading.
“Mrs. Romain, my pretty Polly,” said he,
facetiously chucking her under the chin, “you
know she was formerly a flame of mine.” “So
the world said,” replied Mary, her face in a glow,
and her large black eyes speaking a vast deal
more than she permitted her tongue to utter.
“Well, cousin Mary, don't you be jealous, if my
wife gives me leave to visit an old sweetheart,
surely you will not forbid me, and upon my honor,
the last words she said to me last night, was
to desire me to visit Mrs. Romain early.” “And
I am very glad, my dear,” said I, “you obeyed
my commands; and though you have breakfasted
with her, seeing you are in such an obedient
humor, I command you now to sit down and
breakfast again with me.”

He sat down, and took up the newspaper. I
I did not intend to have said a word more concerning
the letter or lady, I felt no uneasiness;
if she had once been a favorite, he had given a
positive proof that I had been preferred, and why
should I teaze him with an affectation of jealousy,
which, when proceeding from affection, however
it may be thought a proof of the wife's love, pays
the husband's integrity, a very ill compliment?
But Mary Melbourn could not let the matter
rest. “How long has Mrs.Romain been in town?”
said she, addressing Darnley. “She arrived late
last night from Dover.” “I heard she was gone

to be a boarder in the convent of St. Omers.”
“So she was, but her husband is lately dead? she
has therefore no longer a tyrant to immure her
in a prison she detested.” “I heard Romain
was dead, but think she had better have remained
where she was; I never saw her but once in my
life, I was not then pleased with her, and from
what the world has said, I think the more I had
known her the less I should have liked her.” “I
do believe, Sarah,” said he, turning laughing towards
me, “our cousin Mary here is in love with
me, she seems so uneasy at the return of Jessey.
But what will she say, when she knows I have
offered her and her child an apartment in my
family until she can get some business settled,
which a friend of mine at Calais, has written to me
to transact for her concerning her late husband's
effects?” “I have nothing to say to it,” said she,
“if Mrs. Darnley has no objection to such a companion,
it can be no business of mine; besides, I
return to your mother's today, and leave town
on Saturday.” “So soon?” said he, carelessly.
“Yes,” was the reply, and the subject was dropped.
When she had finished her breakfast, I
told Mr. Darnley, that I hoped he had not from
my silence imagined I should not be glad to receive
any person he should think proper to invite
to his house; and would, if he thought it necessary,
wait on the lady in question, and second his
invitation, as without that, she might be unwilling
to avail herself of it.” “Will you be so very
good, my kind hearted Sarah?” said he; “it will

indeed gratify me very much; she is a distressed
woman, has been calumniated by the world, and
ill treated by her husband's relations, who are
endeavoring to wrest the little property her
husband left, from her and her infant daughter,
in order to secure it to her son, whom they
have taken from her. Your countenancing her,
will give her an air of respectability, and restore
her to that rank in society, from which she has
unjustly been driven by the ill nature and jealousy
of a brutal husband.”

“I think, Mr. Darnley,” said I, “that the respect
due to your own honor, will prevent your
wishing to asseciate your wife with a person
whose good name had been tarnished by any wilful
act of guilt; in that confidence I shall cheerfully
do what seems to be so agreeable to your
wishes. If you will accompany me at twelve
o'clock, I will pay the proposed visit, and while
I see no cause to think Mrs. Romain guilty or
imprudent, every mark, every office of kindness
in my power, I shall be happy to shew her.”

When I went up stairs to arrange my dress,
Mary tapped at the dressing-room door; when
she entered, I perceived that her eyes were red
with weeping. “What is the matter, Mary?”
“Matter, nothing, only I don't like George's design
of bringing that woman here; the world
has been very loud in their censures of her.”
“The world often censures the innocent; but
even supposing she has been imprudent, may
she not have seen her errors, and may she not,

if countenanced by women of character, return
to rectitude?” “Did you never hear of her before
you were married?” “No.” “Well, the
world said she was very liberal of her favors to
cousin George.” “Again I repeat, the world
often says more than is true; but were that
even the case, as she is now situated, she had
better be under my protection, than thrown entirely
on his.” Mr. Darnley at that moment
called me; I went with him, gave the requested
invitation; it was accepted, and last evening she
became an inmate of my family. Her person
is fine, though she is past thirty; her manners
graceful, and her mind highly accomplished.
I hope and trust the world have censured her
unjustly. I shall be anxious to hear from you;
write soon, for your approbation is, next to that
of my own heart, of the utmost importance to

SARAH.