University of Virginia Library

LETTER XXXII.
ANNE TO ELENOR.

COMFORT seems again to dawn on our good
Sarah; her tender assiduity, her care, and unremitting
watchfulness, have been the means in
the hands of an all powerful God, of restoring
Darnley to health. They also have awakened
in his heart a degree of that affection he once
professed so ardently to feel for her, and it certainly

is more likely to be permanent, since
what he experienced for her at the time of their
union, was the effervescence of youthful passion;
but the present sentiment is softened by
gratitude, and founded on esteem.

The old gentleman who came to inform Sarah
of her husband's illness, is a Mr. Vaughan, a
half pay officer, who has a wife and several children
to maintain, and a very confined income to
do it with; he was in service at the commencement
of the war, but receiving a wound, returned
home, and his health has since been in so precarious
a state, as to prevent his again joining his
regiment, which continued still abroad. To increase
the means of living, they let part of their
house to several respectable gentlemen, who
boarded with them at an easy rate, and experienced
that kind of style and manner of conducting
the family, table, &c. as is peculiarly agreeable
to men of good education and polished manners.
Here Darnley has boarded for some time past,
being recommended to the family by a person,
who writes in the counting house with him, and
who had some little knowledge of his character,
and knew from good authority how foolishly he
had trifled away his happiness, and involved himself
in debts, by being subject to the dominion
of an unprincipled woman.

Mr. Vaughan, though advanced considerably
in life, is uncommonly attractive in his manners;
his education has been liberal; his understanding
is far above mediocrity, and having seen a

great deal of the world, was qualified for giving
counsel to the thoughtless and inexperienced.
He soon gained Darnley's confidence; he imparted
to this new friend, the doubts which had
arisen in his mind concerning his wife's conduct,
during her absence from him; shewed him
the letter Bellamy had written to him, and
which accused poor Sarah of almost every vice.
Vaughan inquired if he ever had any reason to
suspect her while she was with him; what her
general conduct and principles were, and learnt
that though volatile and improvident in many
things, she cherished the strictest principles of
virtue and religion, and utter abhorrence of vice;
that while herself by look, by word, or action,
never in her gayest and most thoughtless moments
transgressed the laws of female propriety,
she was ever ready to overlook the faults of
others, pity their errors and relieve their distresses,
though the natural consequence of those
errors. He concluded, that it was not very
probable that such a woman would become all at
once abandoned to vice and profligacy. This he
frequently urged, and advised him to write to
his wife, send her money to discharge her debts,
and invite her home. Darnley was inclined to
do this, and would actually have put his design
into execution, when he received her letter,
written the day after her being received into the
dwelling of Peggy McLean, but the very day in
which he formed this resolution, another diabolical
epistle arrived; not from Mrs. Bellamy as
before, but from Jessey Romain, alias Ryan;
who, though unacquainted with the place of his
residence, rather than not have a chance to traduce
his innocent wife, directed her letter to a
coffee house in the city, where she knew, if he
was in London, he would certainly find it, as he
seldom passed a day without calling there. This
letter contained an account that might have
staggered the faith of almost any one. Sarah
was represented as having resided several weeks
at the marquis of H—'s, and eloping from
him one night to Dublin, in company with a married
man, by whom she had been ever since
supported.

The consequence was, that when Sarah wrote
to inform him of her arrival in England, he flew
into a violent paroxysm of rage, and swore he
would never see her again. All Mr. Vaughan's
arguments were vain. But when from his fall,
he found a long and painful confinement would
most likely be the consequence, nay, perhaps
the loss of life would follow, the good man renewed
his solicitations that he would see and be
reconciled to his wife. Darnley said faintly, “If
I could but think her innocent, and yet if she is,
Mr. Vaughan, how can I expect her to pardon
my neglect of her? If she is innocent, I have used
her shamefully—cruelly.” Mr. Vaughan found
the heat of his passion was subsided, and imagined
he would be even glad to find she had been
traduced; he therefore resolved himself to see
her, to question her concerning the subject of

the information officiously given by Ryan and
Bellamy, and draw his conclusions from the
manner in which she should receive and reply to
his questions. Her frankness charmed him,
and the readiness, even to eagerness, which she
shewed to go immediately and attend her husband,
prejudiced him highly in her favor.

Their meeting was singular, yet affecting. “I
have brought,” said Mr. Vaughan, opening the
curtains of the sick man's bed, “I have brought
Mrs. Darnley to nurse you.” “Who, Sarah,”
said he, “where is she?” “I am here, Mr.
Darnley,” cried our friend, advancing and putting
forth her hand. “I am grieved for your
accident, and wish it may be in my power, by
performing every kind office, to alleviate your
sufferings and accelerate your recovery.” “Did
you come voluntarily?” said he, “was it affection
prompted?” “I came voluntarily, George,”
she replied gravely, “I never was, never can be,
a professor; you must judge of my motives from
my conduct; actions speak louder than words.”
“Oh,” said he emphatically, “were I to be
judged by my actions—” She laid her hand
on his which lay outside of the bed, and looking
at him with an impression of kindness, “We
have both erred,” said she, “but let us not now
talk of it; time past cannot be recalled, but it
remains with ourselves to make the future either
happy or miserable; for the present let us
think only of your getting well.” “Do you wish
it, Sarah?” “How unavailing the question,

Darnley? If I do not wish it, I would not avow
such an indifference, and if I say I do, you may
suspect me of dissimulation.” “No, Sarah, I
believe you would not assert what you did not
feel. You ever were sincere.” “I am so now,
when I tell you I ardently wish your recovery.”

When Darnley was well enough to sit up,
Vaughan thought as there was every reason to
suppose a reconciliation and reunion would take
place between him and his wife, it was to be
wished that reunion might be rendered permanent;
he therefore proposed to Darnley that he
would write to the marquis of H—, and to
O'Donnel, as an indifferent person who had heard
these reports, and wished to know the truth, as
it was of infinite consequence that Mrs. Darnley's
character should either be effectually cleared,
or at any rate the truth should be fully
known; to this he assented, and Mr. Vaughan
wrote immediately. Darnley awaits the answer
of these letters with anxiety; I am equally impatient
with him, but my impatience proceeds
from a wish to witness the triumph of my beloved
Sarah, and in the pleasure that event
would confer, I am sure you will partake.