University of Virginia Library

LETTER XVII.
SARAH TO ANNE.
In continuation.

A COACH being procured, I went home; the
domestics met me with tearful eyes, the clerks
looked grieved, and the whole house appeared
a scene of confusion; the glasses and china were
taken down in the parlor, and stood in heaps
on the tables. I ran up stairs; the drawing room
was in equal disorder; the young woman, who
more particularly was employed in my apartment,
came to me and begged me not to go up

into the bed-chambers; “it will break your heart,
ma'am,” said she. “When did this scene of desolation
begin?” I asked. “You had scarcely been
out an hour last evening,” she replied, “when
hearing a little noise in the compting-house, I
listened, and heard a man say, he had law for
what he did, and presently the head clerk came
and asked me if I knew where my master was
gone? `There is said work, Nancy,' said he, `there
is an execution come into the house; I hope Mr.
Darnley will not be out late; perhaps if he was
at home, something might be done to prevent
the depredations of these harpies of the law.'
But oh! dear ma'am, when one hour went away
after another, and you nor my master did not
come home, when I saw the day dawn, and the
sun rise, and heard soon after that master had
been arrested, and you were gone with him to
prison, I thought I should have cried myself sick.
If I had but known where to come to, I would have
brought you some morning clothes; do now,
ma'am, go to my mother's, and let me bring
your clothes to you.” “Do you not know, Nancy,”
said I, “that I have no clothes but what I
have on? the rest are all seized with the furniture
and plate of the house.” The poor girl
burst into an agony of tears; I bade her not fret,
and told her I would take care she did not lose
her wages. “That is not what I cry for,” she
replied, “you have been so kind to me, if I never
get a farthing more—but what will you do? Let
me go with you, ma'am, wherever you go; I
will serve you for less wages than I would anyother
person.” The artless, pathetic strain of this
affectionate girl, I must own, strongly affected
my feelings; but I struggled to suppress the rising
burst of agony, and went up to my own apartment.

I perceived a seal had been put on all the
drawers, bureaus, &c. and upon summoning
courage to request permission to take a change
of clothes from a linen press, was positively refused.
Fortunately, Nancy recollected that there
was a considerable number of clothes at the
laundress's, and hastily went to procure me a
change, which she took to her mother's, who
lived in the neighborhood.

Coming out of my own room, I turned to take
a last look at the little white room, where you
always slept, and in making the furniture of
which, we were so cheerful and happy, forming
plans of amusement, sometimes working, sometimes
reading, and often chasing the hours with
music. The bed was taken down; the curtains
lay in a heap in the corner of the room, and an
ill looking fellow was taking down those drawings
with which I had decorated this favorite
room, and on which you were pleased to set so
high a value. “I should like to have those trifles,”
said I, “they can be of no value to the creditors,
and I have a friend who would prize them very
highly.” “You would like to have them, would
you,” said the unfeeling man, “perhaps you would
like to have this trifle also,” said he, taking my

watch from his pocket, which I had unfortunately
left at the head of my bed when I went out the
day before. It was my mother's watch, and my
father's picture was suspended from it; I felt my
fortitude give way at this unprovoked insolence,
and turned away, that the man might not triumph
in my evident humiliation.

Nancy having returned from the laundress's, I
left my home—my dearly purchased home, and
went to her mother's; changed my clothes, and
taking her with me, with a bundle of linen for
Darnley, I walked back to his place of confinement.
I found he had been taking steps for his
liberation, several of his intimates had been with
him; a lawyer had been sent for, and things put
in a train for declaring him a bankrupt. But liberty
was not so easlly attainable as he imagined,
many detainers having been lodged against him:
it was thought advisable for him to remain where
he was, until his creditors were a little appeased,
and brought to a disposition likely not to oppose
his certificate being signed. It has been a miserable
period for me; I live in the hope of being
soon enfranchised; but until that event happens,
must endeavor to bear his ill humor as patiently
as I can; and when he is wrapped in the arms
of sleep, or carousing with companions as
thoughtless as himself in the public room, solace
myself with conversing in idea with my dear
Anne; nay, it is more than idea, it is reality;
only that I cannot hear the tones of that soothing,
comforting voice, which has so often said to my

perturbed spirits, “Peace, be still!” and like the
harp of the inspired musician, it caused the tempest
of the soul to subside into perfect calm.
Even now, distant as I am from you, the remembrance
of your firmness, mildness, and intrepid
resolution upon every occasion, animates me to
endeavor to emulate so bright an example. I
sometimes look back on my past life, and think
what I had been, had not you condescended in
very early life to notice, to reprove, to counsel
me; to teach me to respect myself; and in order
that I might be enabled so to do, warned me to
shun, with the utmost care, every action which
might lower me in my own estimation. Yes, I
feel, while I can with confidence say, I have done
nothing to forfeit the love of my friend; while I
act right, she will approve, she will respect me;
though I may have acute anguish of heart, I am
not entirely miserable.

I have just met with something which has
excited a smile. Darnley has been for some
days more than commonly out of spirits, though
not so churlish as I have known him; he has
condescended to be amused by my reading to
him, and not frequented the public room so
much. I was wondering what had wrought the
change, when a letter was brought him, which
he read in visible agitation, and then, as if unable
to conceal his feelings, exclaimed, “Jessey is
gone!” “Gone,” said I, “where?” “To France.”
“What, back to her convent?” “No—no convent
for her; Jessey, whether married or single,

was not made for a nun.” “Well, has she
taken her children?” “One of them.” “And
where is the other?” “In the country, at Lord
G—'s seat.”

So, my dear Anne, by degrees I discovered
that the tender, fond, fainting Jessey, to pass
the wearisome hours while Darnley was in confinement,
had taken a trip to the continent with
lord G—. The ostensible reason alleged was
to place her son in some foreign seminary for education;
and if she could travel in a chariot and
four, with a footman, groom, and servant, out of
livery attending, it was certainly a prudent saving
of her own money, and a much more agreeable
mode of making the journey, than either in an
hired chaise or a stage coach.

Darnley was mortified. “Don't you think, my
dear,” said he, after he had been pacing the
room for about half an hour, biting his nails and
whistling, “that Jessey has behaved in a most extraordinary
manner?” “I see nothing extraordinary
in it,” said I, “she wanted an excursion of
pleasure, and a good opportunity to make one
offering, with a rich and handsome young nobleman
for a companion, she could not resist the
temptation.”

I do declare, Anne, when I had said this, I
was half frightened out of my wits, for he turned
pale with mingled anger and mortification. “And
I suppose,” said he, “you are glad she is gone?”
“Why, to tell the truth, Mr. Darnley, I am not
sorry, though I care very little about her, she is

perfectly indifferent to me.” “Oh, very indifferent
indeed, only you were as jealous of her as
you could well live.” Here he affected a laugh.
I thought I had said enough, so did not venture a
reply, and he presently left the room. So there
is an end of his connexion with Jessey; and I
hope he will be convinced she did not love him
with all the fervor and enthusiasm she pretended.
Oh, how degrading to the passion of love it is,
that a woman, despising every moral tie, violating
every principle of virtue or decorum, should dare
to plead in excuse for her libertinism, that she
acted under its influence.

I will conclude my tedious epistle, by informing
you, I expect to leave this dreary abode to-morrow
or next day; I have been out and procured
a lodging; when I am settled in it, I will
write again. Heaven bless my dear Anne, and
increase her felicity, in proportion to the happiness
her friendship has given.