Christian life; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction
Miss Arnold averted her eye for a moment; then looked up more steadily,
and went on with her story. 'After this, I had no hesitation to
accompany him to a shooting lodge, which he had hired, in the Highlands.
We were there some months: I am sure I was heartily sick of it. In
winter last we came here, and Glendower talked of going to town; but I
was not able, nor indeed much inclined to go with him; he has got into
such a shocking habit of drinking. So he left me here, promising to come
back after I was confined; but he had not been gone above two months,
when I saw in a newspaper an account of his marriage with Lady Maria. It
came upon me like a thunder-stroke. The shock brought on a premature
confinement, and I was long in extreme danger. However, I dictated
letters both to Glendower and Lady Maria, asserting my claims, and
declaring that, if they were resisted, the law should do me justice. I
wrote often before I could obtain an answer; and at last Glendower had
the effrontery to write, denying that I had any right over him. He had
even the cruelty to allege, that the time of my poor little boy's birth
in part refuted my story.' Juliet, who had hitherto told her tale with
astonishing self-possession, now burst into tears. 'As I hope for mercy,
Ellen,' said she, folding her infant to her breast with all the natural
fondness of a mother,--'as I hope for mercy, this boy is Glendower's;
and, as I truly believe, is his only lawful heir, if I could see him
once restored to his rights, I should ask no more.'
She soon composed herself, and resumed her disastrous story. Lord
Glendower, incensed by her claim, refused to remit her money. She wrote
to her brother an account of her situation. He answered, that he had
already spent upon her education a sum sufficient, if she had acted
prudently, to have made her fortune; that he was not such a fool as to
spend more in publishing her disgrace in a court of law, where he was
sure no judge would award her five shillings of damages;--that he sent
her thirty pounds to furnish a shop of small wares, and desired he might
never hear of her more. The money came in time to rescue her from a
prison; but the payment of her debts left her penniless. She had
subsisted for some time by the sale of her trinkets and clothes. Lower
and lower her resources had fallen; narrower and more narrow had become
the circle of her comforts, till she was now completely a beggar.
She had also long struggled with ill health. 'This exhausting cough,'
said she, 'and this weakness that makes every thing a burden to me, are
very disheartening, though I know they are not dangerous.' I looked at
her, and shuddered. If ever consumption had set its deadly seal upon any
face, hers bore the impression.
'What is the matter, Ellen?' said she, 'I assure you I am not so ill as
I look.'
'I hope not,' said I, trying to smile.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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