Lady Maclairn, the victim of villany : $b A novel, volume 2 (of 4)Hunter, Mrs. (Rachel)
General
Lady Maclairn, the victim of villany : $b A novel, volume 2 (of 4)
Hunter, Mrs. (Rachel)
English fiction
But I must go, added he, to fetch my things, and I will call
again for your letter, Madam, and my blessing. He bowed, and hastily
left us, penetrated with admiration and gratitude."
From this time we have not seen him; but we hear from his mother, that
he is married and settled, and continues in the line of conduct that
was to be expected from such beginnings of virtue and goodness.
To Mr. Greenwood's and Mr. Wilson's exertions in my favour, I stand
indebted for the bread which has supported me here; the former
convinced the rector, that I was an honest man; and the latter employed
such zeal in my cause, that a paper was signed by most of my flock,
containing such a report of me, as proved that I was qualified for a
bishopric at least. Happy in the wife of my bosom, cherished by the
worthy beings who sheltered us as the honour and blessings of their
roof, I should have forgotten Tarefield-hall, with its inmates, but
my poor Mary heard continually of her father's declining health, and
prompted by her tenderness, she was as continually making attempts to
see him. A letter she sent to Mrs. Flint, reached her, and in a few
days we were surprised by the sight of Mary's clothes and linen, which
were left without a message. In arranging them, with the sweet hope
which this consideration inspired, a note dropped from a gown sleeve;
it was from Mrs. Flint, and contained a bank bill of twenty-five
pounds. "I send you as a token of my love, my dear and injured girl,"
wrote Mrs. Flint, "the inclosed trifle; this is all I am able to do. My
interference in respect to sending you your clothes, has been highly
resented. Believe, that in me you have a friend, but alas! that friend
is too much oppressed to serve you, or your unhappy father, whose heart
still turns to his child. Have patience; write no more to Harriot
Flint, she is watched, and hazards her peace even in this simple act of
humanity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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