The loyalists : $b an historical novel, Vol. 1-3West, Jane
History
The loyalists : $b an historical novel, Vol. 1-3
West, Jane
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
Undismayed by such rebuffs, Isabel attempted other topics. She often
assured him she was now more at her ease, than if seated at the head of
the Earl's table, in Castle Bellingham. "I should have been
embarrassed," said she, "and might, perhaps, have acted wrong through my
solicitude to be very right. Our little household is easily catered for;
hence we can devote the more time to our darling babes. Was not the
husbandman's life preferred by the wisest, the most favoured of mankind?
Does it not afford health and peace? Are not our cares innocent, our
enjoyments unenvied? We do not anticipate, with aching hearts, the fall
or the death of a rival; neither do we, after having distorted our faces
with the hilarity of forced merriment in public, meet, in our privacies,
with anger and fear; reproaching each other for some neglect, and
commenting on the frowns of royalty. We need not study to be expert in
ceremony, or adroit in flattery. When nature calls, we take our simple
food, we rest when she requires relaxation, and when rest is satiety,
innocent and useful labour improves our mental and corporeal functions.
How pitiable are they, whom necessity drags to the banquet of
ostentation, who secretly yawn through the lengthened vigil of unenjoyed
dissipation; who rise from feverish slumbers to tasteless delights; who
feel that their present course of life is a captivity; and yet look on
that which would bring them freedom as disgrace. Unmolested by
creditors, unvexed by the reproachful glances of those who would
attribute their undoing to our extravagance, with no open enemies to
insult us, no secret sorrows to afflict us, our desires subdued rather
than gratified, our domestic union perfect, our minds informed, and our
souls expatiating in a still happier world, O my Allan, let us forget
the past, and call our lot rare felicity. These mountains, which shut
from your view a deceitful treacherous world are now your towers of
defence. These clear lakes which reflect the blue skies, dispose us to
serene contemplation. When all my household toils are finished, and
suspended care sleeps till the morning, I lead my children to their
evening sports; I point to the sublime scenes around us, and remind them
that the Almighty mind, that formed these wonders, dictated the book
which is their daily study. He piled the grey cliffs on each other, some
awfully barren, others cloathed with verdure, to shew that fertility and
desolation, like joy and grief, are at his disposal. He, through fringed
rocks, hollowed a cavern, whence burst the majestic cataract, whose
course no mortal hand shall divert or restrain. So should man submit to
the dispensations of Omniscient wisdom. While thus meditating, I despise
the insignificance of worldly cares, I become almost spiritualized, and
am in danger of losing social affections, as well as earthly desires,
till my children, fancifully decked with wild flowers, call aloud to
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