The Short Continuance of Friendship among the Vicious,
Which is Coeval only with Mutual Satisfaction. The Vicar of Wakefield | ||
21. The Short Continuance of Friendship among the Vicious, Which is Coeval only with Mutual Satisfaction.
My son's account was too long to be delivered at once; the first part of it was begun that night, and he was concluding the rest after dinner the next day, when the appearance of Mr. Thornhill's equipage at the door seemed to make a pause in the general satisfaction. The butler, who was now become my friend in the family, informed me with a whisper that the 'Squire had already made some overtures to Miss Wilmot, and that her aunt and uncle seemed highly to approve the match. Upon Mr. Thornhill's entering, he seemed at seeing my son and me to start back; but I readily imputed that to surprise and not displeasure. However, upon our advancing to salute him, he returned our greeting with the most apparent candor; and after a short time his presence served only to increase the general good-humor,
After tea he called me aside to inquire after my daughter; but upon my informing him that my inquiry was unsuccessful, he seemed greatly surprised; adding
He had formerly made us the most kind assurances of using his interest to serve the family; but now his generosity was not confined to promises alone. The
George was to depart for town the next day to secure his commission, in pursuance of his generous patron's directions, who judged it highly expedient to use despatch, lest, in the meantime, another should step in with more advantageous proposals. The next morning, therefore, our young soldier was early prepared for his departure, and seemed the only person among us that was not affected by it. Neither the fatigues and dangers he was going to encounter, nor the friends and mistress (for Miss Wilmot actually loved him) he was leaving behind, any way damped his spirits. After he
The next morning I took leave of the good family that had been kind enough to entertain me so long, not without several expressions of gratitude to Mr. Thornhill for his late bounty. I left them in the enjoy ment of all that happiness which affluence and good breeding procure, and returned towards home, despairing of ever finding my daughter more, but sending a sigh to Heaven to spare and forgive her. I was now come within about twenty miles of home, having hired a horse to carry me, as I was yet but weak, and comforted myself with the hopes of soon seeing all I held dearest upon earth. But the night coming on, I put up at a little public house by the roadside, and asked for the landlord's company over a pint of wine. We sat beside his kitchen fire, which was the best room in the house, and chatted on politics and the news of the country. We happened, among other topics, to talk of
As we continued our discourse in this manner, his wife, who had been out to get change, returned, and perceiving that her husband was enjoying a pleasure in which she was not a sharer, she asked him, in an angry tone, what he did there; to which he only replied in an ironical way, by drinking her health. "Mr. Symonds," cried she, "you use me very ill, and I'll bear it no longer. Here three parts of the business is left for me to do, and the fourth left unfinished; while you do nothing but soak with the guests all day long; whereas if a spoonful of liquor were to cure me of a fever, I never touch a drop." I now found what she would be at, and immediately poured her out a glass, which she received with a courtesy, and drinking towards my good health. "Sir," resumed she, "it is not so much for the value of the liquor I am angry, but one cannot help it when the house is going out of the windows. If the customers or guests are to be dunned, all the burden lies upon my back; he'd as lief eat that glass as budge after them himself. There
Thus saying, she ran up a narrow flight of stairs that went from the kitchen to a room overhead, and I soon perceived, by the loudness of her voice, and the bitterness of her reproaches, that no money was to be had from her lodger. I could hear her remonstrances very distinctly: "Out, I say; pack out this moment; tramp, thou infamous strumpet! or I'll give thee a mark you won't be the better for this three months. What! you trumpery, to come and take up an honest house without
The landlady now returned to know if we did not choose a more genteel apartment; to which assenting, we were shown a room where we could converse more freely. After we had talked ourselves into some degree of tranquillity, I could not avoid desiring some account of the gradations that led to her present wretched situation. "That villain, sir," said she, "from the first day of our meeting made me honorable though private proposals."
"Villain, indeed," cried I; "and yet it in some measure surprises me bow a person of Mr. Burchell's good-sense and seeming honor could be guilty of such deliberate baseness, and thus step into a family to undo it."
"My dear papa," returned my daughter, "you labor under a strange mistake. Mr. Burchell never attempted to deceive me; instead of that, he took every opportunity of privately admonishing me against the arti fices of Mr. Thornhill, who I now find was even worse than he represented him."-"Mr. Thornhill!" interrupted I, "can it be?"-"Yes, sir," returned she, "it was Mr. Thornhill who seduced me, who employed the two ladies as he called them, but who in fact were aban doned women of the town without breeding or pity, to decoy us up to London. Their artifices, you may remember, would have certainly succeeded, but for Mr.
"You amaze me, my dear," cried I; "but now I find my first suspicions of Mr. Thornhill's baseness were too well grounded; but he can triumph in security, for he is rich and we are poor. But tell me, my child, sure it was no small temptation that could thus obliterate all the impressions of such an education and so virtuous a disposition as thine?"
"Indeed, sir," replied she, "he owes all his triumph to the desire I had of making him, and not myself, happy. I knew that the ceremony of our marriage, which was privately performed by a Popish priest, was no way binding, and that I had nothing to trust to but his honor."-"What!" interrupted I, "and were you indeed married by a priest, and in orders?"-"Indeed, sir, we were," replied she, "though we were both sworn to conceal his name."-"Why then, my child, come to my arms again; and now you are a thousand times more welcome than before; for you are now his wife to all intents and purposes; nor can all the laws of man, though written upon the tablets of adamant lessen the force of that sacred connection."
"Alas! papa," replied she," you are but little acquainted with his villainies; he has been married already
"Has he so?" cried I, "then we must hang the priest, and you shall inform against him to-morrow."-"But, sir," returned she, "will that be right, when I am sworn to secrecy?"-"My dear," I replied, "if you have made such a promise I cannot, nor will I tempt you to break it. Even though it may benefit the public, you must not inform against him. In all human institutions a smaller evil is allowed, to procure a greater good; as in politics, a province may be given away to secure a king dom; in medicine a limb may be lopped off to preserve the body. But in religion, the law is written and inflexible, never to do evil. And this law, my child, is right; for otherwise, if we commit a smaller evil to procure a greater good, certain guilt would be thus incurred, in expectation of contingent advantages. And though the advantage should certainly follow, yet the interval between commission and advantage, which is allowed to be guilty, may be that in which we are called away to answer for the things we have done, and the volume of human actions is closed forever. But I interrupt you, my dear; go on."
"The next morning," continued she, "I found what little expectation I was to have from his sincerity. That very morning he introduced me to two more unhappy women, whom, like me, he had deceived, but who lived in contented prostitution. I loved him too tenderly to
"Just in that interval a stage-coach happening to pass by, I took a place; it being my only aim to be driven at a distance from a wretch I despised and detested. I was set down here, where, since my arrival, my own anxiety and this woman's unkindness have been my own companions. The hours of pleasure that I have passed with my mother and sister now grow painful to me. Their sorrows are much; but mine are greater than theirs; for mine are mixed with guilt and infamy."
"Have patience, my child," cried I, "and I hope
The Short Continuance of Friendship among the Vicious,
Which is Coeval only with Mutual Satisfaction. The Vicar of Wakefield | ||