J\fachael Ernest Sadler 
 
 Tlnweiyitu Cdleye- 
 
 Oxford
 
 . 
 
 ( /v//// /// . //, 

 
 THE 
 
 SCHOOL FOR SISTERS; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 of OErpenence, 
 
 We cannot dispute ourselves into heaven, but we may lose 
 our way thither, while litigating unimportant topics. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 
 PATEr.NOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1823.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by A. & R. Spotliswoode. 
 New-Street- Square.
 
 Stack 
 Annex 
 
 s 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 To inculcate " the lesson of experience" 
 through the medium of an entertaining 
 story, founded on fact, by pointing out 
 the evil sometimes attending a species of 
 enthusiasm, unhappily prevalent among 
 characters otherwise amiable, well edu- 
 cated, and formed to do honour to the 
 church they desert, and the connections 
 they fly from, has been the object of the 
 Author of the following Tale ; who, 
 affectionately addressing herself to the 
 growing-up young ladies of the present 
 period, more especially to the youthful 
 orphan, left in a degree to her own guid- 
 ance, seeks to prove, and inculcate, that 
 
 2031361
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 " true practical religion, distinct alike 
 from fanaticism on the one hand, or 
 coldness on the other/' is the sure and 
 only path to as much happiness as is 
 attainable in this world, as well as the 
 infallible conductor to that eternal and 
 unspeakable felicity promised in the next.
 
 THE 
 
 SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MR. MORDAUNT was a gentleman of respectable 
 family, but small fortune, who having married 
 young, and devoted himself with too much ar- 
 dour to the fatiguing study of the law, had 
 lost his health, without attaining to either the 
 honours, or the emoluments of the profession ; 
 finding himself unable to struggle longer with 
 its drudgery, he retired with his wife and two 
 daughters into the west of England, where he 
 hoped to meet at once with mild air, and cheap 
 living. In this expectation he was not de- 
 ceived ; but the first failed in its effects on his 
 debilitated system, and after lingering for se- 
 veral years in protracted suffering, he died 
 universally beloved and regretted, when Ellen 
 was only eleven years of age, and Clara nine, 
 leaving his beloved family to the care of that Pro- 
 vidence in whom he had always trusted, and by
 
 2 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 whose mercy he had been supported to the last. 
 His death was shortly followed by that of his 
 wife's only sister, who had resided with them ; 
 and thus sickness and death became sadly 
 familiarised to the minds of these children. 
 Ellen was naturally reflective, gentle, and re- 
 tired, though blessed with excellent abilities; 
 while Clara was volatile and wild, warm in 
 her affections, ardent after novelty, but dislik- 
 ing every kind of application. 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, though still young, and ex- 
 tremely pretty, anxious to make up to her 
 daughters the grievous loss they had sustained, 
 devoted herself wholly to their happiness, and 
 instruction now, while by judicious economy 
 she provided the means of procuring them further 
 improvement, when they should be older. She 
 only attempted to lay a good foundation, and 
 for this purpose few persons could have been 
 better qualified. Unaffectedly pious, she was 
 aware that Religion is the " one thing needful," 
 and that the morning of life is the season, under 
 the divine blessing, during which it can be best 
 inculcated. She had laboured to adorn the 
 doctrines she professed, by correcting her own 
 temper, habits, and conversation, and had 
 stored her mind with much useful and polite 
 knowledge. Young as were Ellen and Clara, 
 she lost not the opportunity of impressing on 
 their minds a useful lesson connected with the 
 memory of their departed relatives. 
 
 Your dear papa and aunt," said she, " are
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 3 
 
 only gone before us to a better place ; it seems 
 to me a very short time since I was a little girl, 
 and if it pleases God to preserve your lives, you 
 too, will soon be old, and about to depart from 
 this world ; but we are not always old when we 
 die, and if you walk through Ashford church- 
 yard, you will see all ages there; many as 
 young, and even younger than yourselves. In 
 that good and happy place which your papa 
 now inhabits, sickness, age, and sorrow are 
 alike unknown ; love, and joy, and peace alone 
 prevail ! But all who die are not thus blessed ; 
 only those who trust in their Saviour's merits, 
 and endeavour to do as he has commanded 
 them. Do you not wish to know what that is? 
 His will is written in the Holy Bible, a book 
 you will soon be able to read yourselves, though 
 hitherto you have only known it through my 
 instructions. This blessed book will inform 
 you, that a day will come when all who have 
 ever died, young or old, small or great, shall be 
 raised from the dead, and judged by God him- 
 self, and according as they have said or done, or 
 even thought whilst alive, they will be sentenced 
 to be for ever happy with the good in heaven, 
 or for ever miserable with the wicked in hell. 
 You have been always accustomed to pray to 
 our merciful Saviour, but I wish you likewise 
 every night before you sleep, to ask yourself 
 what account will be given of me this day? Have 
 I endeavoured to be good ? or have I been idle 
 or obstinate, or worst of all, discontented ? 
 B 2
 
 4 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Have I attended to my prayers as well as re- 
 peated them? been obliging, humble, cheer- 
 ful? 
 
 " In whatever respect you find you have of- 
 fended, implore not only present forgiveness 
 but divine assistance to enable you to avoid the 
 fault for the future. Your papa was not anxious 
 you should be rich, or great, or handsome, but 
 that you should become real Christians ; and 
 this, as you will discover when you are older, 
 includes every grace and virtue." 
 
 " But, though Ellen, persuaded it was sinful, 
 earnestly endeavoured to check her vain regrets, 
 her spirits did not return, nor did she feel any 
 interest in her former pursuits ; she had always 
 been the particular favourite of her father, and 
 cherished his memory with romantic affection ; 
 her mother observing her abstraction, and fear- 
 ing for her health, resolved, at last, on sending 
 her to school at a distance, in order that her 
 mind might be diverted by the novelty, and her 
 exertion roused by the emulation, prevailing 
 among a large number of girls, mostly older and 
 cleverer than herself. A former friend of her 
 own presided over a genteel establishment at 
 
 ; and to her charge she determined to 
 
 entrust this beloved child, although the prospect 
 of parting with her was very afflicting. 
 
 When this plan was first communicated to 
 Ellen, she was delighted at the idea of such an 
 important change. How many new friends she 
 should meet with ! How much she should
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 5 
 
 learn ! But when the precise period had been 
 .fixed, when it drew near, grief at the thought 
 of leaving her home, overpowered every other 
 feeling, although she had been too well and 
 early taught the duty of obedience to think of 
 opposing her mother's will, even by entreaties. 
 Mrs. Mordaunt's health was very delicate, and 
 she often considered her children might be left 
 early orphans, and have to struggle through a 
 rough world with few relatives and little fortune ; 
 hence she wished Ellen, as the eldest, to ac- 
 quire some energy of character, and even know- 
 ledge of the world, both far more likely to be 
 found in an intercourse with the inmates of a 
 large school, than in the retired village, where 
 she was surrounded by friends, and sheltered 
 from most of the evils of life. 
 
 Fearing her own want of fortitude, she had 
 requested Mrs. Hall to arrange some plan for 
 the journey, and accordingly, her principal 
 teacher, who happened to be in the neighbour- 
 hood, was desired to call for the new scholar. 
 Ellen had passed a restless night, when on the 
 appointed morning she rose early, anxious to 
 take a last view of objects so deservedly dear. 
 In the garden she was joined by Clara, who, 
 persuaded by the bustle and importance attached 
 to this her sister's first absence from home, that 
 going to school was a desirable event, could not 
 enter at all into her feelings of regret on the 
 occasion, but only wished the same good for- 
 tune was about to befall herself. 
 B 3
 
 6 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, who had followed them, 
 soon however dismissed her giddy daughter: 
 while addressing Ellen, she said, " You cannot 
 doubt, my beloved child, that in trusting you so 
 far from my own care, I feel a thousand anxieties 
 for your health and comfort, left as you now 
 will be in some degree to yourself, and ex- 
 posed for the first time to the society of bold 
 and wicked girls, who will probably endeavour 
 by persuasion and ridicule to make you as bad 
 as themselves ; never give way to them ever so 
 little, and they will soon desist, and even respect 
 your firmness. Let not your open temper lead 
 you into particular friendship for any one of your 
 schoolfellows, till you have observed how she 
 behaves to others, as well as yourself, whether 
 she is tolerably attentive to her studies, whether 
 she attends to truth ; and remember that if by 
 any ingenious manoeuvre you succeed in decei"- 
 ing your teachers, you in reality cheat yourself^ 
 and rob me." 
 
 Ellen listened with sorrowful attention to her 
 mother's advice, but she was too much affected 
 to reply, and they soon after returned to the 
 breakfast-parlour, where the sight of all her 
 packages, ranged in order for her departure, 
 completely took away her appetite. The rumb- 
 ling sound of carriage wheels was now heard, 
 they struck dismay to Ellen's heart : starting 
 from the table, she threw herself into her mother's 
 arms, where both gave way for a moment to 
 their feelings ; but Mrs. Mordaunt, aware of
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 7 
 
 the necessity of exertion, gently disengaged 
 herself j and retreated towards the door, in order 
 to receive Miss Smith, when Margaret, the 
 faithful servant, who had always attended them, 
 ran into the room, and grasping in her hard 
 hand the delicate one of Ellen, " God bless 
 you, dear child," said she, "pray be good, 
 and learn fast, that you may come back to us 
 very soon." 
 
 Clara, too, felt at last the parting from her 
 sister, and flinging her arms round her neck, 
 added to poor Ellen's sorrow, but as Miss 
 Smith refused to alight, she had no time for 
 indulging it, but turning once more to her mo- 
 ther to receive the kiss of affection, and waving 
 her hand to a group of village children, as- 
 sembled to see the last of her, half bewildered, 
 she was put into the chaise, which rapidly driv- 
 ing from the door, was soon lost sight of. 
 
 Miss Smith, who, from having lived many 
 years with Mrs. Hall, was an important per- 
 son, at first suffered her young pupil's grief 
 to pass unnoticed, after which she began to 
 console her in the usual terms ; and as Ellen 
 was awed by her presence, she dried her 
 tears, and with a heavy heart surveyed her 
 future companions, for the chaise contained 
 beside herself another young lady. Miss Smith 
 now introduced them to each other, when 
 Miss Harcourt, who had been astonished at 
 the sorrow manifested by Ellen, kindly took her 
 hand, and promised to endeavour to make 
 B 4
 
 8 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 school agreeable to her. She was a tall, hand- 
 some girl, about thirteen, who, from being the 
 niece of Mrs. Hall, possessed considerable in- 
 fluence. She was likewise the only surviving 
 child of a numerous family, and having lost her 
 mother at a very early age, had been treated by 
 her father with the most ruinous indulgence. 
 She possessed, however, pleasing manners, and 
 a very kind heart; and as Ellen felt desolate 
 and forlorn, she was grateful for her notice, and 
 endeavoured to seem cheerful ; but besides the 
 grief that oppressed her heart, she soon became 
 too unwell for conversation, since, unaccustomed 
 to travelling, she was sick, and weary from the 
 length of the way. After a tedious journey 
 they arrived late at night at Rock House, where 
 they were received in a cool and distant man- 
 ner by the stately Mrs. Hall. 
 
 Miss Harcourt requested that Ellen might 
 sleep in her room ; and the young stranger, 
 thankful even for the company of Barbara, re- 
 tired to rest for the first time without her mo- 
 ther's blessing, overpowered by fatigue both of 
 mind and body. 
 
 The next morning she was startled from dis- 
 turbed slumber by the ringing of the great bell 
 at six o' clock. Ellen woke with a painful sense 
 of oppression of spirits, without knowing for 
 some moments what was its cause, or where 
 she was. The large and bare looking apart- 
 ment, with the buzzing sound of different voices, 
 quite bewildered her, till the shrill tones of the
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 9 
 
 French teacher scolding, in her native tongue, 
 the young ladies, for not making more haste to 
 quit the apartment, recalled the whole sad truth 
 to her recollection, and she immediately hastened 
 to join the general assembly in the dressing- 
 room, not a little annoyed at finding herself 
 obliged to perform the offices of cleanliness in 
 public, 
 
 On descending to the school-room, she found 
 most of the girls were already assembled, and 
 busily employed in arranging their books, &c. 
 for the ensuing half-year. 
 
 Barbara took Ellen by the hand, and intro- 
 duced her to a few of the leaders, by whom she 
 was scrutinized with an earnestness that brought 
 blushes into her cheeks. 
 
 " She is really pretty, " said an affected Miss 
 St. Clair, " though she looks like a simpleton. " 
 
 " She will not do for a show girl, " said ano- 
 ther. 
 
 " Pray, Miss Harcourt, what report do you 
 give ? " added a third. 
 
 " Oh, poor thing, " said Barbara, " I cannot 
 say any thing about her as yet ; I am trying to 
 make her out." 
 
 When school began, a scrutiny commenced 
 as to Ellen's proficiency, and much ridicule was 
 excited, when she was found ignorant of seve- 
 ral things taught at school to children much 
 younger. In French and English, she, how- 
 ever, obtained a very high station : for whatever 
 sbe had been taught at all, she had learned well. 
 B 5
 
 10 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 When they retired to the play-ground, Bar- 
 bara took her new acquaintance aside, and with 
 much importance began to catechise her. 
 
 " The girls, '^said she, " will soon be pestering 
 you with questions, so you had better let me in- 
 to your concerns at once. In the first place, 
 what have you brought with you? as it is 
 the custom of this place to divide it among all." 
 Ellen did not understand her meaning. " Why, 
 confectionary, sweetmeats, &c. " 
 
 " Oh " said Ellen, " my mama thinks them 
 unwholesome, and we never have them at 
 home. " 
 
 " That is rather unlucky," observed Barbara; 
 " another time, remember, we are not so parti- 
 cular. In the next place, what money have you 
 got?" 
 
 Ellen, now, with much pride, displayed her 
 five shillings. 
 
 " What, " said Miss Harcourt, " is that all ? 
 I fear your mother is very stingy. Why, I have 
 fifteen, and I scolded my papa finely for not 
 giving me more : however, remember, if you 
 are asked by any one else, say ten." 
 
 " Indeed, " said Ellen, " I cannot tell a story 
 about it ; besides, my mama is far from rich. " 
 
 " Keep that information likewise to yourself," 
 added Barbara. " I suppose it is no harm, if 
 you are not asked, and you are such a little nin- 
 ny, that I shall think it necessary to speak for 
 you. I think your papa was in no business ? " 
 
 " Not when he died, " said Ellen, " but be- 
 fore. "
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 11 
 
 " Oh, never mind what happened a hundred 
 years ago. Now for servants ; how many do 
 you keep ? " 
 
 " Only the one you saw at the door, and a 
 cook." 
 
 " What, no footmen, shocking ! No carriage 
 then of course ! However, hold your tongue, 
 and I will bring you. through. " 
 
 Ellen, who had been accustomed to see her 
 mother much looked up to in her native vil- 
 lage, was surprised and mortified at this intim- 
 ation of her insignificance. However, said she 
 to herself, I will endeavour to be distinguished 
 for diligence and good conduct, and that will 
 be much more honourable than rank or riches. 
 
 B 6
 
 12 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1 HE school into which Ellen Mordaunt had 
 been thus introduced, was composed chiefly of 
 girls of fortune or family. Mrs. Hall, who 
 conducted it, although an early associate of 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, had turned out a very different 
 character. She had been patronized by several 
 persons of rank; and preferred receiving chil- 
 dren connected with them, even though some- 
 times doubtful, whether she should ever be 
 paid. Among these girls, the present rage 
 was for gentility ; and after they had examined 
 Ellen's clothes, which, though plain, were of 
 good materials, and well made ; and listened to 
 the account given of her by Miss Harcourt, 
 she was declared noticeable. That young lady 
 had informed them, that Mrs. Mordaunt lived 
 in retirement on account of her health ; that 
 her husband was a gentleman, but had never 
 been in any business, &c. It may be matter of 
 surprise, that any one should take the trouble 
 of telling stories for a stranger ; but there may 
 sometimes be found an attraction in contrast. 
 Miss Harcourt was a lively, active girl, who 
 liked to be of consequence, and to direct. She 
 was naturally clever and inventive ; but never
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 13 
 
 having had any one to instruct her in point of 
 principle, her ingenuity had been employed in 
 contrivances to deceive the masters and teachers ; 
 her spirit shown in defying and ridiculing 
 them. If found out, she had always a plausible 
 tale ready for her defence, and this, her inno- 
 cent looks, and her relationship to the governess, 
 generally brought her off victorious. She was 
 very tall of her age, an animated, handsome 
 brunette, and from her fine person and showy 
 manners was considered a great credit to the 
 school. 
 
 Ellen, on the contrary, was fair, delicate, and 
 
 timid ; and as there is an attaching quality in 
 
 dependence, Barbara really felt to like her; 
 
 and going up to her a few days after, said, " I 
 
 have a proposal to make to you, my last friend, 
 
 Miss St. Clare, has used me shamefully, and 
 
 I am determined to have nothing more to do 
 
 with her ; now, though you are too young, yet, 
 
 as you are not at all childish, and I have 
 
 taken a fancy to you, I am really inclined to 
 
 choose you in her place, so, you are to tell 
 
 me a secret, and I am to tell you one; and 
 
 afterwards we are to be always together, to take 
 
 each other's part, right or wrong, and not to 
 
 pass the mark to each other, if we can help it." 
 
 Ellen was quite surprised at this offer. 
 
 " You are very kind, J am sure, Miss Har- 
 
 court, to think of such an ignorant girl as 
 
 myself rather than the other young ladies, but 
 
 indeed I have no secret to entrust you with,
 
 .14- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 and, beside, my mama desired me not to choose 
 my friend till I had known her some time ; so, 
 as we are but just acquainted, would it not be 
 better to wait till we know a little more of each 
 other?" 
 
 " You are very silly to refuse what is for 
 your own advantage," observed her companion ; 
 " however, take your own way." 
 
 Miss Smith, who had remarked the docility, 
 obedience, and sweet temper of her new pupil, 
 took her for her own child, as it is called, and 
 endeavoured by praise, and kindness, to en- 
 courage her to persevere in a line of conduct of 
 which the school produced so few examples. 
 As she found Ellen had not been accustomed 
 to work for herself, she promised to do what 
 was necessary to her clothes, unless she tore 
 any thing from carelessness, in which case she 
 must repair the mischief herself. A few days 
 after this arrangement, sitting on the form next 
 to Miss Harcourt, rising hastily, she put her 
 foot through that young lady's muslin frock, 
 and tore a tremendous hole. 
 
 " Never mind," said Barbara, seeing the dis- 
 may of her countenance, " sit down, and hold 
 your tongue." 
 
 The next minute, another girl passing them 
 close, " Oh, Miss Cox," said she, rising hastily, 
 with an affected scream, " see what a rent you 
 have made in my frock !" 
 
 Poor Miss Cox stared, but did not attempt 
 to deny the fact; and, upon explaining the
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 15 
 
 cause of the bustle, she was ordered to remain 
 within doors to repair the dress, instead of ac- 
 companying the other young ladies in their 
 walk. 
 
 Meanwhile Ellen had been almost stupified 
 with surprise ; the promptitude with which the 
 story had been invented, and the apparent can- 
 dour with which it had been narrated, almost 
 made her doubt the evidence of her senses; 
 but as soon as this had subsided, she went to 
 Barbara, and told her, that however sorry she 
 might feel to expose her, she never could bear 
 to see an innocent person suffer for her fault, 
 and was determined to go immediately to Miss 
 Smith, and explain the truth. 
 
 " So," said Miss Harcourt, " this is all I 
 get for my kindness to you, you ungrateful 
 creature ; pray, what harm would it do Miss 
 Cox, who is a beautiful worker, to practise on 
 my frock, while you could not have done it 
 yourself, and never would have heard the last 
 of your carelessness." 
 
 " I never should hear the last of it from my 
 own conscience," answered Ellen, " therefore, 
 must positively clear Miss Cox." 
 
 " Well," said Barbara, with a flash of her 
 natural generosity, " I believe you are right ; 
 so I will tell- Miss Smith that I think I might 
 have been mistaken as to who caused the rent, 
 and, to save farther trouble, will repair it myself; 
 - now are you satisfied?" 
 
 " No," said Ellen, " still you would be telling 
 an untruth; you do know who tore the frock."
 
 16 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 " Well then," observed Miss Harcourt, "I will 
 say, I am sure that Miss Cox had nothing to 
 do in the affair ; and that it is no matter who 
 had, as I will mend it myself. Now, will you 
 agree to being my friend ?" 
 
 " I will agree to love you, dear Barbara; 
 but my mama particularly desired my friend 
 should not tell stories." 
 
 " Then," said Barbara, " you will never find 
 her at school ; however, obstinate as you are, 
 I cannot help loving you, and wishing myself 
 more like you." 
 
 " Come and see my dear mama, then, at 
 the holidays," said Ellen ; " it is from her I 
 have learnt all the little good I practise." 
 
 " With all my heart," replied her companion, 
 " if you will return my visit at my papa's 
 house in London. You will see what a great 
 person I am there, and wonder that I give way 
 to a little quiet girl like you." 
 
 The half-year passed away more happily 
 than Ellen could have believed possible ; every 
 day brought some improvement. The masters 
 praised her highly, and the frequent and affec- 
 tionate letters of her mother caused her much 
 pleasure : yet, time seemed long, and Ellen 
 welcomed the shortening days and increasing 
 cold as bringing nearer Christmas. 
 
 As the vacation approached, the joy of the 
 girls began to be very clamorous. 
 
 " How happens it," said Ellen to Barbara, 
 " that you are so happy in going home, when 
 you showed so little regret at leaving it ?"
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 17 
 
 " O, my dear, that was after the midsummer 
 holidays, when my papa was in the country, 
 and I had nothing to do but walk about the 
 garden by myself, eat fruit till I was sick, and 
 accompany the housekeeper to church on Sun- 
 day. Now, in London, she sometimes takes 
 me slily to the play ; you cannot think how 
 cleverly we cheat papa, who thinks I am gone 
 to bed with the head-ache." 
 
 Ellen sighed, as she considered the melan- 
 choly manner in which this poor child had been 
 educated, and resolved to interest her mother in 
 her behalf. Ah ! thought she, how can I ever 
 be thankful enough to Heaven for blessing me 
 with such a parent ! When the holidays ar- 
 rived, Ellen took leave of her companions with 
 a joyful heart. She had established a character 
 for gentleness, yet was known to be so firm that 
 the members of the unruly faction gave her up, 
 as they said, while Miss Smith only hoped she 
 might have resolution to go on as she had 
 begun. But who can describe the heart-felt 
 joy of Mrs. Mordaunt at again receiving her 
 home ? So grown ! so improved in every re- 
 spect ! The delicate looking little girl now 
 appeared strong and healthy; her cheeks 
 glowed with youth's lovely roses, while her 
 mild blue eyes sparkled with joy and intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 The neighbours arrived to congratulate them. 
 
 " Really," they observed, " Miss Ellen was 
 grown handsome, and like her mama ! But
 
 18 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 beauty was of no consequence whatever, pro- 
 vided she was but good." 
 
 Clara, too, was grown, and all delight at the 
 return of her sister ; for now they should drink 
 tea out, and have their little parties at home ; 
 " and she should hear all about the tricks the 
 young ladies played the teachers, and what 
 they wore." 
 
 Happy days are, alas ! short ! and the holi- 
 days were over, before Ellen had found time to 
 do half she had intended ; but as she had found 
 by experience, that half-years do pass away in 
 time, and that even school affords some plea- 
 sures, those of improvement, and society, at 
 least, she bore the thoughts of leaving home 
 better than she had done before. Her mother, 
 aware how much our characters are influenced 
 by those of our favourite associates, enquired 
 who she had chosen for her friend, and received 
 in return a particular account of Miss Harcourt, 
 for whose unvarying kindness Ellen felt truly 
 grateful. 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt agreed with her daughter in 
 thinking she was much to be pitied ; and as her 
 faults were not of a nature to be injurious to the 
 well-principled Ellen, and she appeared to pos- 
 sess some good qualities worth cultivation, she 
 received permission to invite Barbara to their 
 cottage at the next vacation. 
 
 When Ellen was returned to school, Mrs. 
 Mordaunt began to be anxious about Clara. 
 In her present indifferent health she found
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 19 
 
 this volatile child too much for her spirits ; and 
 although she was very quick in repartee, she 
 was very dull in learning, which added to her 
 disinclination and her mother's labour. Rock- 
 House was too far off; and not only rather 
 expensive, but not calculated for Clara, who 
 would not have improved among so large a 
 number of pupils. There was an establishment 
 in her neighbourhood, where ten only were 
 received ; it was cheap and well conducted, 
 although its principals departed from the forms 
 of the established church. As Clara was still 
 young, and several of her acquaintances had 
 sent their children, Mrs. Mordaunt thought 
 this need not be a serious objection ; and one 
 vacancy occurring just at this time, she was like- 
 wise, to her great joy, sent to school. The 
 discipline of Eastwood was not at all strict. It 
 was conducted on the plan of a large family ; 
 and as the village was very secluded, the chil- 
 dren ran about, during play-hours, in perfect 
 liberty. About half the number were of the 
 same church as Clara; but as the place af- 
 forded but one place of worship, they of course 
 conformed to that of their companions. As 
 many of them were young and backward in 
 their studies, Clara's deficiencies were not 
 glaring, while her good temper and lively 
 spirits rendered her a universal favourite. The 
 girls were all nearly on an equality, and there 
 was none of the rivalry, and little of the deceit, 
 found in more fashionable schools. Mrs. Mor-
 
 20 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 daunt greatly missed the society of both her 
 children, but she considered her loss their gain ; 
 and was pleased to have the youngest placed 
 where she could see her often, and witness her 
 improvement. 
 
 Meanwhile Ellen resumed her former occu- 
 pations with increased confidence. No young 
 person could be more modest ; but she was not 
 shy or awkward. She was now to begin dancing 
 at an age when most girls have attained consi- 
 derable proficiency in it ; and those who have 
 formed part of a large school, know how tre- 
 mendous it is to stand up alone before so many 
 witnesses. 
 
 But Mrs. Mordaunt had early taught her 
 daughter not to be ashamed of wanting what 
 she had no opportunity of acquiring. " The 
 truly humble," said she, " are not considering 
 what others are thinking of them, but a~e 
 making use of all the understanding they possess 
 to attain what they have in view. This makes 
 them act naturally, and preserves them from 
 great indecorum or ridicule." Barbara excelled 
 in dancing, and took much pains to assist Ellen, 
 which was a great advantage to her. She had 
 been rejoiced to meet again her protegee, as she 
 called Ellen; for the holidays had been very 
 dull to her, the complaisant housekeeper having 
 been replaced by one very strict and particular. 
 She was, therefore, charmed at the thought of 
 going to Ashford, and observed, it would be an 
 excellent opportunity when her papa paid her
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 21 
 
 his usual visit, to introduce her friend, and 
 pave the way towards obtaining his consent. 
 
 About the middle of the half-year, Mr. Har- 
 court arrived, according to his promise; and 
 anxious to please and amuse his daughter, pro- 
 posed a rural excursion to a village in the neigh- 
 bourhood, desiring that some young friend of 
 her's should accompany them. 
 
 " Oh !" said Barbara, " there is only one girl 
 in the school I care about, or whose opinion I 
 value a straw, and that is Miss Mordaunt." 
 
 " Indeed !" said her father, smiling; " then 
 what is become of Miss St. Clair, and Miss 
 
 Green, and ?" 
 
 " Do not name them, papa; they are de- 
 testable, while my sweet Ellen is the most in- 
 teresting, good-tempered, clever little creature 
 you ever saw, though she has some odd old- 
 fashioned notions about telling the truth, doing 
 as you are bid, &c, ; but we shall, I trust, in 
 time rub off this country rust." 
 
 " I hope, my dear," said her father, " you 
 will be more constant to this paragon than to 
 her predecessors." 
 
 Ellen, who had no friends at , was 
 
 delighted with the prospect of this little amuse- 
 ment, and her pleasing manners gained much 
 on the good opinion of Mr. Harcourt, during 
 the day they passed together. 
 
 When Barbara went, as usual, to wish her 
 aunt good night on their return ; " Pray," said 
 that worldly lady, '* what has induced you to
 
 22 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 take this violent fancy to Miss Mordaunt, who 
 is nobody, instead of choosing for your friend 
 Miss Bouverie, or the Honourable Miss Bertie, 
 whose notice would be a credit to you when 
 you come out in society ?" 
 
 " Because," answered her niece, " I love and 
 esteem her more than either ; beside, I should 
 hate myself if I acted on such worldly motives ; 
 and I think," added she, bridling, " that in my 
 situation I shall not want." 
 
 " You are mistaken, my dear," interrupted 
 the aunt. " The notice of girls of family is of 
 
 treat use to girls of fortune , it leads to their 
 >rming good connections." 
 
 " Oh !" said Barbara, " when I marry it 
 will be for love, not connection." 
 
 " Romantic folly !" observed Mrs. Hall. 
 " I hope to see you become wiser as you grow 
 older ; and let me just remind you, that there 
 are few men in the world less likely to allow of 
 these whims than your father, on whom you 
 entirely depend." 
 
 " My papa does, however, approve of my 
 regard for Ellen," answered Barbara, pouting ; 
 " and that is the only matter in question at 
 present." 
 
 When midsummer approached, Mr. Har- 
 court, who was going to the continent, wrote 
 to say his daughter must remain at school. 
 Her earnest request to be allowed to spend the 
 holidays with Ellen came, therefore, very apro- 
 pos ; and Mr. Harcourt, who was always in-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 23 
 
 dulgent when it did not interfere with his own 
 convenience, not only assented willingly to the 
 plan, but offered to conduct the young ladies 
 within ten miles of their destination : here they 
 were to meet Mrs. Mordaunt, and an introduc- 
 tion was to take place. The journey was de- 
 lightful ; and at its end, Barbara found herself 
 
 received with almost maternal kindness by the 
 
 i 
 interesting widow. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Ellen !" said she, " how happy 
 you are to have a mother." 
 
 " I am, indeed !" answered her friend ; " but 
 remember, dear Barbara, you have a father, 
 while I have none." 
 
 " We will divide these and all our other 
 advantages," said the warm-hearted Barbara, 
 " if your dear mama will take pity on a poor 
 erring girl like myself, my papa will, I am 
 sure, always be a friend and protector to you." 
 
 " Agreed," said Mrs. Mordaunt, smiling 
 through the tears Ellen's observation had oc- 
 casioned. " And now let us join Mr. Harcourt, 
 and remember we have to call for Clara, who 
 is, I dare say, bursting with curiosity and im- 
 patience to see you both." 
 
 The demure figure of Clara's governess, and 
 the extreme plainness of their accommodations, 
 excited much merriment in Barbara ; but Clara, 
 though so lively herself, would not hear those 
 she respected turned into ridicule, but entered 
 with great animation into a defence of East- 
 wood and all connected with it, which lasted all 
 their way home.
 
 24- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 " How little every thing is," said Barbara, 
 as they alighted at the cottage, " but very 
 pretty though." 
 
 " Pray come and see my garden," said Ellen, 
 all impatience to visit it herself; but Miss 
 Harcourt moved slowly. She had no taste for 
 flowers, nor indeed for any thing in the country. 
 
 " Pray," said she to Clara, " what sort of 
 neighbours have you ? any quizzes ?" 
 
 " I do not know exactly who you mean," 
 answered Clara; " but I am sure mama will have 
 pleasure in showing you all the beauties of the 
 neighbourhood ; and I dare say, she will make 
 some parties for us." 
 
 " Oh," said Barbara, " that is not what I 
 meant ; it is your family I am come to see ; and 
 my papa does not chuse I should visit every 
 body." 
 
 Ellen, who had by this time satisfied herself 
 that all was right in her little domain, and recol- 
 lected it could not be equally interesting to her 
 friend, now proposed showing her to the little 
 apartment she was always for the future to con- 
 sider her own, and here she left her to arrange 
 her dress, always an important concern to 
 Barbara. 
 
 Order, cheerfulness, and regularity reigned in 
 this little abode, and to Miss Harcourt the 
 scene was new. They rose early the next morn- 
 ing, and began the day with family prayers, and 
 reading a chapter in the Testament. After 
 breakfast they pursued some useful employment 
 for two or three hours, after which a little chaise
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 25 
 
 kept for the accommodation of Mrs. Mordaunt, 
 came to the door, while the young ladies pre- 
 pared to walk by her side. On their return 
 they were to call at the Parsonage, to 
 the inmates of which they were all much at- 
 tached. As they proceeded, the beauty of the 
 prospects, and the fineness of the morning, 
 called forth continued exclamations of delight 
 from the Miss Mordaunts. Even the insects 
 that winged their flight through the air, or crept 
 under their feet, and the flowers that grew in 
 wild profusion around them, arrested their steps, 
 and excited their admiration. 
 
 " What can you see in those nasty reptiles, 
 and stinking weeds ? " said Barbara. 
 
 " We see, " answered Ellen, " the wonderful, 
 beautiful, and varied works of our Great Crea- 
 tor ! How beautiful and varied you little know ! 
 We have a microscope at home, and I will 
 show you, when we return, that this common 
 fly is far more wonderful, and equally complete 
 in its formation, as an ox, or an elephant ; and 
 that even this thistle is equally curious and use- 
 ful. But now, dear Barbara, as you do not yet 
 enter into these tastes, suppose we try to draw 
 that picturesque-looking tree." 
 
 " No, " said her friend, " I am sure I cannot 
 take any thing from nature. It is quite different 
 from the patterns I am used to." 
 
 " But how much more interesting ! and easier 
 than you think ; do let us try ? " 
 C
 
 26 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 " No, " said Barbara, " it is no use for me 
 to try; you will be sure to do it better than 
 I can. You are so much cleverer, that I see I 
 must make up my mind to be always in the back 
 ground. " 
 
 " Never mind, " said Clara; " I shall keep 
 you company, for I do nothing well ; only you 
 must like botany, and let me teach you. I have 
 such a nice collection at home, all dried by my- 
 self; I call it the * Hortus Clara. ' I hate gar- 
 dens and fine flowers, but to run wild in woods 
 and fields, seeking every day something new ; 
 and then to wonder what it can be, and go 
 hunting through the great books, for mama 
 never will tell me, to find it out at last, and 
 wear it in triumph in my hair for the rest of the 
 day ; oh that is delightful ! " 
 
 Barbara began to think there must be some- 
 thing attractive in a pursuit that induced the 
 giddy Clara to take so much trouble ; therefore, 
 as she foresaw she should have some difficulty 
 in filling up her time at the cottage, she resolved, 
 particularly as she heard it was the fashion in 
 London, to try what she could make of botany. 
 
 The inhabitants of the Parsonage welcomed 
 their young friends with great affection. Miss 
 Stanhope had been educated at home. She 
 was amiable, affectionate, and lively; and 
 Barbara thought she now perceived that the 
 reason why Ellen had so long refused to give 
 to her the title of friend, was, because it had
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 27 
 
 already been allotted to Caroline. Jealousy, 
 however, was not one of her faults, and she 
 did full justice to the pleasing qualities of her 
 new acquaintance. Indeed, there was a great 
 resemblance between them; and had Barbara 
 possessed the same advantages, she would have 
 been equally good and happy. 
 
 The Rector of Ashford was in easy circum- 
 stances, and in every respect an honour to the 
 church of which he was a member. His wife 
 was worthy of him ; and their joint authority 
 rendered this well-regulated household the 
 abode of peace, benevolence, and piety* 
 
 A ward of Dr. Stanhope, Edward Monta- 
 gue, occasionally resided with his guardian, and 
 was now on a visit to the house. He was a re- 
 tired, interesting youth, apparently devoted to 
 study, but, from his amiable disposition, a uni- 
 versal favourite of the family. 
 
 Alfred, the Doctor's only son, was likewise 
 at home : intended, at his own desire, for a sai- 
 lor, he always fancied himself in love, and when 
 introduced to Miss Harcourt, who, delighted 
 with his gaiety, paid him great attention, he 
 attached himself to her side, and resolved to lay 
 his laurels at her feet. The whole family re- 
 ceived Ellen's friend as their own ; and several 
 little parties were immediately arranged in honor 
 of her. In these, every one was bound to con- 
 tribute in some way to the amusement or instruc- 
 tion of the rest ; and whether they were tempted 
 c 2
 
 28 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 to stroll out, or confined to the house by bad 
 weather, these simple entertainments were, if 
 not seasoned by attic salt, enlivened by cheer- 
 fulness and good-humour, and marked by some 
 species of improvement.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE pains bestowed by Mrs. Mordaunt on 
 her interesting and affectionate pupil were not 
 entirely thrown away. Barbara saw that it was 
 possible to be happy in the country ; she like- 
 wise perceived plainly, that Religion does not 
 in itself render people gloomy, nor deprive 
 them of any of the innocent pleasures of life. 
 Indeed, she began to perceive that it was, at 
 least, one of the paths to happiness ; but " what 
 a pity, " said she to Ellen one Sunday evening, 
 that they had been listening to an excellent ser- 
 mon, " that it should be so very difficult ! In- 
 deed, to those who live in the world, it appears 
 to me, almost impossible." 
 
 " With the assistance of God's holy spirit, it 
 is not impossible to any one, " said Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt; " and in regard to difficulty, is there any 
 one thing desirable to be known, that is not 
 difficult. Consider how many tedious hours you 
 have passed over music, French, and indeed 
 whatever you have attempted to learn. Think 
 of the time and labour required to make a man 
 a scholar, or a lawyer, even to acquire a com- 
 mon trade. Yet what is the comparative value 
 of all these, when measured with that wisdom 
 c 3
 
 30 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 which is to make us wise unto salvation ? Our 
 blessed Lord says ' labour after the meat that 
 perisheth not. ' ' Strive to enter in at the strait 
 gate, for he that seeketh only shall not be able. ' 
 Of ourselves, we can, indeed, do nothing ; but 
 we are expressly told, ' if any man lack wisdom, 
 let him ask it of God, who giveth liberally, and 
 upbraideth not. ' Difficulties do not prevent 
 your attempting many things far less certain of 
 attainment, as well as incomparably less impor- 
 tant; indeed, to ardent spirits they often act 
 as a stimulus : oh, my dear child, remember, 
 * what is a man profited, if he gain the whole 
 world, and lose himself?' And recollect also, 
 that not only the wicked shall be turned into 
 hell, but all the people who forget God. " 
 
 "Well," said Barbara, affected by the ear- 
 nestness and truth of this appeal, " I hope I 
 shall be religious some time or other. " 
 
 " Endeavour to make that time the present," 
 added her kind friend ; " it is all, of which you 
 can be certain : your mother, apparently strong 
 and hearty as yourself, died young: who can 
 assure to you, even so long an existence ? 
 
 " My days are, I feel, numbered ; and thanks 
 be to Providence, I can leave this world, and 
 even my dear children, without regret, in the 
 humble hope of a happy immortality, purchased 
 for me, as for all repentant sinners, by my Sa- 
 viour's merits. 
 
 "Weep not, my dear girls, at the thought ; 
 you will still have a parent infinitely more ten-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 31 
 
 tier, as well as more wise, who has promised to 
 be the orphan's never-failing friend. Put your 
 trust in him, and we shall speedily be re-united 
 in heaven, to part no more. But I perceive 
 my lecture has made you sad ; although I in- 
 tended it only to render you serious. We will, 
 therefore, have a little music, and retire to rest, 
 thankful for the opportunities of improvement 
 we have this day enjoyed. " 
 
 The last week of the holidays was now arrived, 
 and the happy little party contemplated their 
 approaching separation with almost equal regret. 
 *' I envy you now, dear Clara," said Ellen, 
 *' for you will be so near mama, that if she is 
 unwell you can always be sent for, while I shall 
 be constantly imagining she is ill, even when she 
 is not, because I cannot be with her." 
 
 " Then, my dear," observed her mother, " you 
 will be exceedingly to blame ; where uncertainty 
 prevails, and something must be supposed, en- 
 deavour to acquire a habit of always supposing 
 the best. Avoid an anxious, apprehensive turn 
 of mind, which is not only unprofitable, but sin- 
 ful ; and always look at things on their bright 
 side. To cultivate the habit of cheerfulness, I 
 consider an imperative duty, towards others as 
 well as ourselves: a cheerful countenance has 
 been celebrated by Solomon : and as we are all 
 unquestionably happier than we deserve, it is 
 part of the great law of thankfulness to make 
 the best of existing circumstances. You must 
 have observed the difference between our two 
 c 4-
 
 32 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 worthy neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon. If 
 they only take a walk through the village, the 
 aspect of creation is wholly different to them ; 
 while he sees nothing but rain in the clouds, 
 blight in the air, poverty or disease in the inha- 
 bitants, and want of repair in the dwellings ; she 
 on every side perceives traces of her Great Cre- 
 ator's mercy, in the warmth of the sun, the 
 freshness of the breeze, and the general, though 
 humble appearance of comfort among the vil- 
 lagers. This striking difference arises from 
 early habit; for Mrs. Gordon has not better 
 health, or any other worldly advantage, over 
 her husband." 
 
 " How quickly these holidays have passed !'* 
 said Clara. 
 
 " I am sure," answered Barbara, " I wish 
 time would always go so. I do so long to come 
 out ! I am determined Ellen shall go every 
 where with me, and we shall be so happy !" 
 
 " I fear," said Ellen, " we should not agree 
 in our ideas of happiness." 
 
 " Oh," observed Barbara, " I shall not be in 
 any haste to marry ; I am determined not to tie 
 myself down to any man, till I have seen the 
 world, and enjoyed myself." 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt smiled, and thought how 
 seldom we keep to the resolutions we form before 
 we are called into action. She observed, " that 
 happiness, so far as it is attainable in this world, 
 must be found at home, and sought for in our 
 own bosoms." She felt much at parting from
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 33 
 
 her interesting companions, but this was to be 
 Ellen's last half-year, as she was now nearly 
 fifteen. The purposes for which she had been 
 sent to school were answered, and her mother 
 was anxious for her society and support during 
 the short remainder of her own life. 
 
 To her great annoyance, Miss Harcourt was 
 doomed to remain at school after Ellen left it, 
 as her father considered her too young to come 
 out, and did not know how to dispose of her in 
 the intervening time. This circumstance, added 
 to the regret with which she always parted from 
 her friend, a feeling sincerely partaken by Ellen, 
 who felt much at leaving, for the last time, the 
 house in which she had found such kind encou- 
 ragement, such useful instruction, such agreeable 
 society. These thoughts were, however, soon 
 dispersed by the prospect of returning to her 
 happy home, no more, she hoped, to leave it. 
 Miss Smith was again her escort, and as they 
 travelled along, Ellen contrasted in her own 
 mind this journey with that they had first taken 
 together : then, thought she, I was leaving, for 
 the first time, my dearest mother, and the beloved 
 abode of my childhood ; yet, dreary as the pros- 
 pect then appeared to me, how much less so has 
 it proved ! With God's blessing on my earnest 
 endeavours, I have acquired health, improve- 
 ment, friends. May this prove to me a useful 
 lesson, and teach me never to despond, however 
 unpromising my prospects may appear. Little 
 c 5
 
 34- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 did the young moralist foresee how soon this 
 resolution would be put to the proof. 
 
 The sun was setting in clouded brilliance as 
 they drove through the village ; never had it 
 looked more beautiful. The heart of Ellen 
 glowed within her : " There," said she, stretch- 
 ing her eager glances, " there is our dear cottage ! 
 I wonder I do not see mama or Clara watching 
 for me, but perhaps they do not expect us so 
 soon." Kind looks and eager courtesies greeted 
 them from all the cottages they passed, but Ellen 
 fancied the children did not look so smiling, as 
 they were wont, at seeing her. Ah ! thought 
 she, we are all less happy and more observing 
 as we grow older. 
 
 At length the carriage reached the little gate, 
 and Margaret, with a grave aspect, appear- 
 ed to open it. Scarcely waiting to have the 
 steps let down, and totally forgetting to take 
 leave of Miss Smith, Ellen darted past her, 
 in spite of repeated entreaties to wait one minute, 
 and opening in haste the little parlour door, in 
 which they usually sat, she beheld at last her 
 mother ; but, alas ! how changed ! Stretched 
 upon a sofa, a wasted, but beautiful shadow, she 
 raised her brilliant eyes, beaming with tender- 
 ness, and lighted up by fever, and opening her 
 arms, for weakness prevented her rising, while 
 emotion checked her utterance, received into 
 their eager pressure this dear, long-looked-for 
 daughter ; while Clara, who had on Ellen's
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 35 
 
 arrival] found it impossible to break to her, as 
 she had wished, the sad intelligence, now came 
 forward, and taking from her mother the almost 
 fainting form of her sister, gently drew her from 
 the room, aware how injurious such a scene must 
 be to Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 " Cruel Clara," said Ellen, as soon as she 
 could speak, " why did you leave me ignorant 
 of the dreadful reception that awaited my 
 return ?" 
 
 " Indeed, dear sister," answered Clara, " al- 
 though from seeing mama frequently I was 
 not aware how rapidly her illness increased, yet 
 I believe, till yesterday, when, during a violent 
 fit of coughing, she broke a blood-vessel, no 
 one thought there was any danger; but, dear 
 Ellen, we have sent for the famous Dr. Brown," 
 added Clara, her countenance brightening up 
 with youthful hope, " and I trust, now you are 
 come home, we shall soon nurse her well again, 
 though she always shakes her head when I say 
 so." 
 
 " We must hope and pray it may be so," 
 returned her sister ; " and now that I think I 
 can support the trying sight with more fortitude, 
 let us return ; but, indeed, it was such a shock, 
 when I was anticipating nothing but pleasure." 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, who had now recovered her 
 composure, and had been revived by a cordial 
 administered by the faithful Margaret, received 
 her children with her usual cheerful smile ; and 
 Ellen, observing the clearness of her complexion, 
 c 6
 
 36 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 and the glow on her cheek, flattered herself with 
 the hope of her mother's eventual recovery. 
 She passed, however, in alternate prayers and 
 weeping nearly the whole of this first night of 
 her long-wished-for return home. Morning 
 discovered still more plainly the sad state of 
 Mrs. Mordaunt ; and Ellen" thought the time 
 would never arrive when they might expect the 
 doctor's visit. When, at last, he came, little 
 consolation could be gleaned from his grave 
 countenance. He saw his patient's case was 
 beyond his aid ; and, with the benevolence of an 
 enlightened physician, sought only to alleviate 
 her sufferings. It appeared likely, that, with 
 care and attention, she might yet survive some 
 weeks; and Ellen, who had hitherto wearied 
 Heaven with fruitless prayers, now changed the 
 subject of them, and only begged for resignation. 
 The wild spirits of Clara, completely subdued 
 by grief, she proved a most kind and indefa- 
 tigable assistant ; while, in the tender assiduities 
 of those around her, Mrs. Mordaunt found all the 
 assistance and consolation earth can afford those 
 who are about to leave it for ever. 
 
 But the interest and affection of a true Christian 
 are enlarged beyond that of others. She ad- 
 mitted to her chamber her neighbours and ac- 
 quaintances, whether she had liked them or not ; 
 even the poor children she had been accustomed 
 to instruct ; because she wished to add her dying 
 testimony to the love and faithfulness of her 
 Redeemer, because she wished to remind and
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 37 
 
 admonish all how inevitably they must follovr 
 her ; and, as she had been remarkable when 
 well for her adherence to truth, she was believed 
 now, and some trembled while they believed. 
 To such would Mrs. Mordaunt, in the most per- 
 suasive accents, point out the bridge of glory, 
 cast across the grave by our Saviour's great 
 atonement ! Over this he had himself first 
 passed, and over this he invites all to come unto 
 him, " that they might not perish, but have ever- 
 lasting life." 
 
 One evening, that she was unusually well, 
 she expressed to Ellen a wish to see her friend 
 Miss Harcourt ; and as Ellen thought the af- 
 fecting scene she would witness must prove a 
 useful lesson, she lost no time in conveying to 
 Barbara the wishes of her mother. 
 
 The heart of this affectionate girl having 
 been entirely gained by the maternal kindness 
 of Mrs. Mordaunt, she entreated her father's 
 permission to be allowed to assist in the task of 
 nursing her : and as Mr. Harcourt made no 
 objection, she speedily arrived and devoted her- 
 self with all the energy of her character to 
 console and support her friend. As to Mrs. 
 Mordaunt, she soon became the object of her 
 admiration, almost of her envy. Cheerful, se- 
 rene, and resigned, she still entered into their 
 pursuits, and encouraged their useful occupa- 
 tions ; " because I am obliged to be idle," said 
 she, " it is no reason you should." 
 
 Fearing their health might suffer from their
 
 38 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 incessant attendance on her, she sent them into 
 the adjoining fields, to collect for her wild 
 flowers, which were, she said, grateful to the 
 eye, from their beauty, without being over- 
 powering by their scent : she delighted to point 
 out their curious structure and various uses, as 
 proofs of the wisdom and mercy of their Creator, 
 deducing arguments from them, to prove his 
 gracious intention of providing for us innocent 
 sources of pleasure and amusement, as well as 
 more serious occupation. As this tender pa- 
 rent foresaw her young attendants would soon 
 have to enter into life, amiable and inex- 
 perienced, without any mother to guide their 
 steps, or guard their conduct, she was anxious, 
 during the intervals between more serious con- 
 versation, to offer them some lessons in worldly 
 prudence. Our Saviour himself, thought she, 
 has warned us to be wise as serpents, though 
 harmless as doves. Knowing the lovely colours 
 with which ardent youth decks every person 
 and object when first entering society, and the 
 bitter disappointments that too often follow, she 
 endeavoured, by lowering the former, to ward off' 
 the latter. " You must not expect," said she, 
 " however good and amiable you may be, to 
 be loved, or even liked, by all you meet with. 
 At first, indeed, your novelty alone will please : 
 as no one bears enmity towards her, by whom 
 no one has as yet been jostled or outdone ; but, 
 beside the difference of taste, which will cause 
 one person to think you too grave, while to
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 39 
 
 another you appear too lively, the very affection 
 your pleasing qualities do create, will raise the 
 envy, and excite the dislike of many, who will 
 not scruple, perhaps, to assign unworthy mo- 
 tives to your most innocent actions. But, 
 remember," added Mrs. Mordaunt, seeing the 
 clouded countenances of her hearers, for even 
 their school experience confirmed the truth of 
 her assertions, " we shall not be judged by 
 man's judgment, but by him who sees our 
 motives, and by whom actions are "weighed. If 
 it be possible, live peaceably with all men, but 
 do not make yourselves unhappy, if your best 
 efforts towards that end sometimes fail : and 
 beware of disliking others, because they do not 
 happen to admire you." 
 
 In this season of trial, the friendship of the^ 
 inhabitants of the parsonage proved an incal- 
 culable comfort to the inmates of the cottage. 
 In Dr. Stanhope, Mrs. Mordaunt found a Chris- 
 tian pastor, who assisted, as far as man could 
 do, to guide her soul through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, while his wife administered 
 to her bodily comfort, and Caroline, the kind- 
 hearted, the indefatigable Caroline, afforded to her 
 daughters sympathy and aid. As to Edward 
 Montague, he appeared to exist only for the 
 service of Mrs. Mordaunt and her daughter ; 
 if he could be so fortunate as to think of a 
 book that could amuse, or a dainty that might 
 refresh, the invalid, he was at the height of his 
 ambition. His heart, indeed, had long been
 
 40 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 devoted to Ellen, though the reserve of his 
 manners, his diffidence, and her extreme youth, 
 had prevented the truth from being suspected ; 
 but now that the beloved of his soul was in 
 affliction, suffering too, as he thought, with the 
 meekness of an angel, his attachment betrayed 
 itself in an abstraction, a forgetfulness of self, 
 and a melancholy, of which Caroline imme- 
 diately perceived the cause, and respected the 
 effects. But Barbara, who had a quick per- 
 ception of the ridiculous, accompanied with 
 ready wit, and a talent for satire, whenever an 
 apparent amendment in Mrs. Mordaunt gave 
 her an excuse for indulging her natural vivacity, 
 levelled her attacks so unmercifully against the 
 love-sick Romeo, as she called him, that Ellen's 
 pride was mortified at the ridicule his passion 
 attached to herself: and she felt towards him 
 dislike, approaching to contempt and aversion.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I ET,, few were the women in whom Edward 
 Montague would have inspired such sentiments ; 
 nor would they probably have arisen in her 
 bosom, but from the associations excited by the 
 mischievous raillery of her friend. He was a 
 youth of independent fortune and respectable 
 family; intended at his own desire for the 
 church. His face was handsome, although 
 rather delicate : his figure, tall, but slight. The 
 successive loss of all his near relations had 
 robbed his early years of happiness ; and thrown 
 the affections of his warm heart back upon 
 itself. Caroline, indeed, he loved as a sister; 
 but it was Ellen, the modest, the accomplished 
 Ellen, who called into action all the romantic 
 vehemence of his nature. Early instructed to 
 believe, that a virtuous attachment is the surest 
 safeguard of morals ; and charmed with the de- 
 lightful idea of supplying to her he loved all 
 that she was about to lose, he sought not to 
 check or moderate the absorbing passion that 
 had given new interest to his existence. Only 
 to see her accidentally pass the window, or in 
 the hope of being employed on some trifling 
 errand, he would loiter for hours near the
 
 42 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 house ; too diffident to attempt to enter it. 
 Under the friendly cover of night, he would 
 wander in her little garden for the pleasure of 
 sitting where she had sat, or, of watering the 
 plants which she had reared. Meantime, the 
 illness of Mrs. Mordaunt increased; and she 
 lost no time in dismissing her young visitor, 
 anxious to devote to her children all that re- 
 mained of her existence. She now frequently 
 alluded to the time ^vhen she should be no 
 more, in order that their grief might not be 
 increased by the event being unexpected. At 
 first, these allusions were slight, and dropped 
 at the sight of the tears they occasioned ; but, 
 as they were repeated, and blended with the 
 cheering consolations of religion, Ellen became 
 able to bear them with more composure. 
 
 " I think, my daughters," said this Christian 
 mother, " you cannot doubt my love towards 
 you. My life has proved it ; yet, remember, 
 that I can think of leaving you for ever in this 
 world with composure, because I know in 
 whom I have trusted ; and can fearlessly com- 
 mend you to the Father of the fatherless ; yet 
 I am not so lost to the world as not to be anxious 
 for your temporal welfare. You have, perhaps, 
 sometimes wondered that you have not, like many 
 of your young acquaintance, kind and numerous 
 relatives, but my family have all died young; leav- 
 ing only distant branches. Your dear father's 
 were disappointed at his marrying me, because I 
 had no fortune. They were all rich and proud,
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 4>3 
 
 but are now mostly dead : thus, have I been 
 doubtful to whose care to consign my treasures. 
 Our dear friend, the rector, would have been 
 my choice, but his life is uncertain, as he is 
 now advanced in years ; and when a clergyman 
 dies, his family are not only driven from their 
 home, but sometimes dispersed in a way to 
 make the charge of two young females a bur- 
 den. One friend of my youth, indeed, survives ; 
 and to her protection I should have felt obliged 
 to commit you, had I not a few months since 
 received a letter from the eldest sister of your 
 father, offering in the kindest terms to receive 
 and cherish you as her own children. She is 
 a single lady, residing by herself in Scotland, 
 in a style of life suitable to your small fortunes, 
 genteel but economical ; she will likewise be 
 able and willing to afford you that instruction, 
 of which your absence from home has hitherto 
 deprived you, the art of domestic management, 
 in which she excels, though far from mean, 
 and extremely charitable. She is indeed a 
 pious and excellent woman, to whom your so- 
 ciety will, I think, prove a great comfort : and 
 as she is much respected by her family, you 
 may, if you gain her approbation, obtain like- 
 wise their notice ; of which I have been grieved 
 to deprive you, because I think, with some great 
 author, that relations, when not unworthy, are 
 the friends provided for us by Providence. 
 
 " Be it your study then, my dear girls, to pay 
 to this, your worthy aunt, the love and duty you
 
 44 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 have ever shown to me ; and remember, if, as is 
 most probable, from her retired life, she have 
 peculiarities of any kind, it is your business to 
 bear with, and conceal them." 
 
 To Ellen's affectionate heart, this intelligence 
 was overpowering; the certainty it conveyed to 
 her mind, that she should soon have no mother, 
 was sufficiently agonizing; but that this sad 
 vent would likewise remove her from the home 
 and the friends of her youth, to the authority of 
 a relation, whose forbidding countenance, the 
 only time she had ever seen her, had left a strong 
 impression on her memory, was a circumstance 
 as unexpected, as it was terrible. Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt, seeing they had no power to reply, hasten- 
 ed to add, that in accepting with proper grati- 
 tude the welcome proposal, she had stipulated, 
 that her children should be allowed time to 
 recover their spirits among their former as- 
 sociates, before they were called upon to under- 
 take so long a journey, and to introduce them- 
 selves among strangers. 
 
 When this important information was com- 
 municated to Caroline, she was at first extremely 
 alarmed at the thoughts of losing her dear 
 friends: but the promised period of delay re- 
 assured her ; for, in that time, thought she, so 
 sensible a girl as Ellen Mordaunt will surely 
 discover the amiable qualities of Edward, and 
 then, if she is engaged to him, going to live in 
 Scotland will be out of the question. She was, 
 however, too judicious to mention these her
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 45 
 
 hopes, but contented herself with observing, she 
 trusted something would occur to prevent so dis- 
 agreeable a necessity. 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope, who had been accustomed to 
 beds of sickness, soon perceived the days of Mrs. 
 Mordaunt were drawing to a close, and endea- 
 voured to prepare the minds of her children, for 
 whom she felt the tenderest interest ; and they, 
 painfully convinced the will of Providence must 
 be obeyed, were enabled to attend in the awful 
 chamber of death. 
 
 One unusually fine evening, Mrs. Mordaunt, 
 who had been dozing the greater part of the 
 day, requested that her curtains might be un- 
 drawn, to enable her to see the setting sun. 
 " How often," said she, " have I in health con- 
 templated that glorious scene, and wished to 
 die at sun-set ; that when He, like a giant, re- 
 freshed to run his course, arose in splendour, 
 from apparent darkness, to illumine another 
 hemisphere, the Sun of Righteousness might 
 rise upon my soul, emerging from the shades of 
 death ! but now, my will is his. Oh, my child- 
 ren, my friends ! remember, one thing is need- 
 ful, Faith in the Son of God, Repentance, 
 Humility." Then raising her eyes to heaven, 
 and ejaculating a fervent blessing on her daugh- 
 ters, who, dissolved in tears, knelt at the side of 
 her bed, she closed her eyes, and murmuring 
 " Lord Jesus, receive my soul,? her gentle spirit 
 departed, almost without a sigh, while a hea- 
 venly smile irradiated her features, and the last
 
 46 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 beams of the setting sun threw a yellow glory 
 round the apartment. 
 
 Over the grief of the young orphans we 
 draw a veil. Time, the consolations of religion, 
 friendship, and, above all, the natural elasticity 
 of the human mind, at their early age, enabled 
 them to bear this severe visitation, Strange, 
 indeed, it is that we can so soon reconcile our- 
 selves to the loss of parents ! particularly to the 
 last survivor of them ; with whom we lose the 
 only person whose fond patience neither our 
 faults or our infirmities ever weary; to whom, 
 indeed, our sickness or our misfortunes only 
 render us more dear ; the lapse of years en- 
 lightens us to perceive their true value; and it 
 is, perhaps, mercifully ordained, that we should 
 not be aware of the extent of our loss, during 
 the first poignancy of youthful sorrow. 
 
 The sisters had removed to the friendly 
 shelter of the Parsonage, after attending their 
 mother's remains to her humble grave. Ellen 
 thought that joy was dead within her ; and the 
 fond respectful idolatry of Edward was revolt- 
 ing alike to her grief and her delicacy. She 
 treated him with coldness and hauteur, while to 
 every one else, she was gentle and gracious: 
 but still Caroline encouraged him to persevere ; 
 she thought it was sorrow that rendered Ellen 
 so unusually hard-hearted, and took every op- 
 portunity to represent him in the fairest light. 
 But the passion we do not partake is disagree- 
 able in our eyes. Ellen was angry with her-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 4-7 
 
 self for not liking so amiable a youth as Ed- 
 ward ; and this anger recoiled on the person 
 who occasioned it. 
 
 Things were in this train, when one evening 
 as the little group were seated at tea, a servant 
 boy, who had been sent on an errand to a neigh- 
 bouring town, entered, with a countenance full 
 of importance, to announce that a great lady, 
 with half a dozen servants in fine livery, was 
 coming to Ashford, to visit the Miss Mordaunts. 
 On farther enquiry, it appeared that a family 
 passing through , had stopt to make en- 
 quiries whether any one of their name lived 
 near ; and that the boy passing at the same time, 
 had been pointed out as a person capable of 
 giving information; that the lady had accord- 
 ingly called him to her, asked a multitude of 
 questions, and, finally, given him half-a-crown ; 
 observing, she hoped she should see the young 
 ladies herself very soon. This mysterious per- 
 sonage excited great curiosity at the Parsonage, 
 and gave a new turn to the conversation. 
 Ellen felt alarmed at every ring at the bell, while 
 Clara passed hours in watching from her win- 
 dow the high-road, in hopes to see the elegant 
 equipage described by John; and Margaret 
 wondered where they should accommodate all 
 her ladyship's footmen. Time passed on, how- 
 ever, without any one making their appearance, 
 and the circumstance began to be forgotten, 
 when Ellen received the following letter from 
 a lady, with whom her mother had occasionally
 
 48 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 corresponded, and whose notice Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt had considered an honour. 
 
 " MY DEAR GIRLS, 
 
 " The sad intelligence of your mother's death 
 has grieved me much, and I feel my heart yearn 
 towards her children ; you are doubtless aware 
 a family connexion already subsists between us, 
 and I now pledge myself to be a parent to you 
 both. You shall share with my own daughter 
 my care and affection ; say then, that you will 
 come to me, at least, for a time"; and believe 
 me ever, 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 
 " CHARLOTTE HAMILTON. 
 
 " P. S. Kind compliments to your worthy 
 friends." 
 
 The surprise excited by this unexpected epis- 
 tle is easily conceived. Ellen, who knew how 
 highly her mother respected the writer, the only 
 one of Mr. Mordaunt's early associates who had 
 noticed her, thought it their duty to receive with 
 gratitude the flattei'ing invitation ; but to leave 
 Ashford, leave Caroline, was losing all she had 
 lost a second time. Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope, 
 however, agreed with her as to the propriety of 
 the measure, though very unwilling to part with 
 them ; but Caroline was inconsolable ; Edward, 
 distracted. It was, at last, arranged that Ellen 
 should write to Mrs. Hamilton, explaining their 
 present situation and future plans ; at the same
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 49 
 
 time offering to pay her a visit on their way from 
 Devonshire to Scotland. 
 
 A week had expired since this letter had been 
 dispatched, and the family were preparing for 
 evening prayers, when, late one night, Ellen was 
 told a lady from London wished to see them : 
 the Doctor desired she should be admitted, 
 when a little fat bustling woman made her ap- 
 pearance, and curtsying all round, informed 
 them, she had the honour of being housekeeper 
 to Mrs. Hamilton, who had sent her down, 
 to convey the Miss Mordaunts to her house. 
 So saying, she produced her credentials ; and, 
 while Ellen was reading the letter addressed to 
 her, " Indeed, ma'am," continued she, ad- 
 dressing Mrs. Stanhope, " I have had a terrible 
 long journey : my lady intended to have sent 
 her own woman ; but as I had relations in this 
 neighbourhood, that I wished to enquire after, 
 I offered my services instead, and Mrs. Allen 
 was glad enough to get off; so, if you please, 
 ma'am, as I suppose the young ladies will be 
 some days packing up, I'll just stay here for 
 to-night, and be off early to-morrow morning, 
 to visit my cousins." 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope, gladly dismissing the officious 
 lady, turned to Ellen, who, without speaking, 
 put the following epistle into her hands. 
 
 " My dear Ellen's ready compliance with my 
 wishes has still more endeared my adopted 
 children to my heart. I send with this a trusty 
 D
 
 50 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 servant, who will take upon herself all the 
 expences and arrangements of the journey; and 
 I trust, under Providence, convey them in safety 
 to their sincere friend, C. HAMILTON." 
 
 All the party (however they agreed in con- 
 sidering the summons unwelcome) were struck 
 with the considerate kindness displayed by Mrs. 
 Hamilton ; and Mrs. Stanhope suggested, that, 
 by going to her now, they might be enabled to 
 return again into the country, before they under- 
 took their expedition northwards. This prospect 
 somewhat cheered the three young friends; while, 
 insensibly, into the bosoms of the sisters, stole 
 pleasing anticipations of the wonders of London, 
 and the honour of being introduced to their kind 
 new friend, of whom they knew little more, 
 than that she was the wife of a colonel on foreign 
 service, left with one daughter by another hus- 
 band, possessing a town and country house, and 
 of a religious character. 
 
 Caroline, a stranger to every species of selfish- 
 ness, sought only to assist Ellen in her prepar- 
 ations, and disperse her melancholy, by pointing 
 out the probable advantage to her of a change of 
 scene. " Your excellent qualities and delightful 
 manners," said she, " will gain you affection 
 wherever you go; but I do not tor a moment 
 suppose, that any new acquaintance will ever 
 make you forget old friends." She then reverted 
 to Edward, and his faithful attachment. 
 
 " Talk not of Edward, dear Caroline," an-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 51 
 
 swered Ellen; "his love would make me laugh, 
 if it did not make me sick : of all disagreeable 
 things, boys' love is the worst, and no more to 
 be depended on than the wind." 
 
 " Edward is nineteen," said Caroline ; " and 
 you know he is not in any respect a common 
 boy. I only fear his love will prove too real and 
 constant : it has already injured his health." 
 
 " That is easily accounted for," observed 
 Ellen, " from his choosing to pass nights under 
 our window, making himself and me the talk of 
 the village : he ought to have more pride, than 
 to persevere in attentions he sees are unpleasant." 
 
 " They are not obtrusive attentions," added 
 Caroline : " his is the homage of the heart ; 
 and, to a youth of Edward's disposition, a first 
 attachment is a very serious business." 
 
 " I wish," said Ellen, earnestly, " he had be- 
 stowed that first attachment more worthily, on 
 my friend." 
 
 Caroline sighed, and wished the same ; for, 
 thought she, I never could resist his interesting 
 melancholy countenance. 
 
 The afternoon preceding their departure, 
 EUen and Clara went together to visit their 
 mother's grave. "Ah !" said Ellen, "how short 
 the time appears, since she was mourning over my 
 father's! Man passes away like a shadow; the 
 wind passeth over him, and he is gone but 
 where?" The wintry blast, rustling through the 
 lofty trees of the church-yard, seemed to lament in 
 unison with their feelings. How blank and joy- 
 D 2
 
 52 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 less seemed the future ! how little every thing 
 connected with this world only ! 
 
 From sad abstraction, they were roused by 
 Edward, who, timidly approaching, said he had 
 been sent by Mrs. Stanhope, to remind them 
 night was approaching, and tea waited. Clara 
 immediately took his arm, with the frankness of 
 a sister ; but Ellen walked aloof, and he had not 
 the courage to attempt a nearer approach. At 
 this unpropitious moment, just as they reached 
 the house, Edward put into her hand a packet ; 
 and only saying, " Be merciful," darted off to- 
 wards the village. 
 
 " Where is your beau ?" said the doctor, as 
 they entered the parlour. 
 
 " Oh," cried his kind ally, Caroline, who 
 fancied he might have taken this last opportunity 
 of endeavouring to soften Ellen in his favour, 
 " I dare say he is gone to the village, to execute 
 my commission to Dame Smith." No more was 
 said; and Ellen, taking an early occasion to 
 withdraw to her own room, found, as she had 
 expected, a letter, containing the offer of Ed- 
 ward's hand, and heart, and fortune, couched in 
 the most persuasive terms ; and only entreating 
 to be allowed to endeavour to gain her love. 
 
 "This avowal," said he, "is sent to you, against 
 the advice of my friends, who persuaded me to 
 await a more favorable season : but how could 
 I lose sight of you, perhaps for ever, knowing, 
 too, you were going among new persons, and 
 new scenes, without making one attempt to
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 53 
 
 alleviate the terrible suspense I must otherwise 
 endure. Only say you do not hate me that it 
 is possible, in time, you may relent; and doom 
 not, to entire despair, the most faithful and 
 attached of your friends, 
 
 " EDWARD MONTAGUE." 
 
 To the prejudiced mind of Ellen, this preci- 
 pitate appeal appeared little less than an insult 
 to the memory of a mother, buried only a few 
 weeks; hastily, therefore, enveloping the let- 
 ter in a blank cover, without giving herself 
 any time for consideration, she entered the apart- 
 ment of Edward, the door of which stood invit- 
 ingly open, and laying it on his table, proceeded to 
 finish her packing, and take leave of some of her 
 poor neighbours, by whom she was universally 
 beloved. The grief of Margaret, who had been 
 taken into the doctor's family, was particularly 
 clamorous; yet she thought it was a fine thing the 
 dear children were going to see the world ; and 
 who knew but that some great lord, at the fine 
 house they were going to, might fall in love with 
 sweet Miss Ellen. Mrs. Davis, who only re- 
 turned the night before, was in attendance at a 
 very early hour, as the journey was long. Un- 
 willing to disturb the whole family, or to prolong 
 the pain of parting, they had agreed to take leave 
 over night, and the adieus had been grateful and 
 affectionate, kind and cordial. Edward, alone, 
 had not been visible: in the morning, however, 
 as they were stepping into the chaise, his pale 
 D 3
 
 54 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 and haggard countenance presented itself at the 
 door. He handed them in, but was too much 
 affected to utter a syllable. The feelings of the 
 sisters were mournful, and the cold dark morn- 
 ing did not cheer their spirits : tender regret, 
 at leaving scenes so beloved, succeeded to the 
 first violence of Ellen's sorrow; and, as she 
 recalled the altered appearance of Edward 
 Montague, the pang of self-reproach stole over 
 her heart. I ought, thought she, to have softened 
 the blow I dealt, for he was ever kind to my 
 dear mamma. From these painful musings, she 
 was roused by Clara, who, drying her unavailing 
 tears, had turned to their companion. " Well, 
 Mrs. Davis," said she, " now let us hear how you 
 liked our country ; and whether you found your 
 relations." 
 
 " Oh, miss," answered the housekeeper, 
 " you are good to ask. As to the country, it is 
 much like all countries, devoid of the light of 
 grace; and, as to my cousins, they are either 
 dead, or good for nothing so, after my fine 
 dance after them, I hope never again to hear 
 their names. But, my dear ladies, how surprised 
 I am to find you so finely grown. I had under- 
 stood from my lady, you were quite little girls ; 
 but, I suppose, she forgets time runs on with you, 
 as well as Miss Almeria." 
 
 " Pray what sort of a girl is Miss Hamilton?" 
 asked Clara. 
 
 "Why, ma'am," answered Mrs. Davis, "Miss 
 Cleveland is what I call an unaccountable young
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 55 
 
 lady" with great emphasis on the two last 
 words. 
 
 " In what respect ?" said Ellen; now interested 
 in the debate. 
 
 " Why," answered her informant, " she is so 
 beautiful, and so clever, and so audacious, as I 
 say and has such a fine fortune ! left by her 
 own papa." 
 
 " I suppose," observed Clara, " she is a great 
 darling, being the only child." 
 
 " As to that," said Mrs. Davis, " my lady does 
 spoil her terribly, as we all knows ; but, in the 
 Lord's own time, she will, I dare say, know 
 better." 
 
 " Is she like her mother ?" asked Clara, fear- 
 ing to make a direct enquiry, yet anxious tq 
 know something of their future hostess. 
 
 " Why, ma'am, you see it does not become 
 me to haul my lady over the coals. The colonel 
 is a fine man, though never at home, as they do 
 not agree very well : but she is a powerful vessel 
 in the hands of the Lord ; and, to see how she 
 does write, I often wonders at her !" 
 
 The sisters, taking the hint, relapsed into 
 silence, while Mrs. Davis composed herself to 
 sleep. The remainder of the journey passed 
 nearly without incident; and the travellers ar- 
 rived late on a very foggy night, at the residence 
 of Mrs. Hamilton, in Devonshire- Place, where 
 they found only a female servant, expecting 
 them. The gloom and stillness of the house, 
 D 4
 
 56 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 after the bustle of the streets, struck sad fore- 
 boding into the hearts of Ellen and Clara; while, 
 conducted by the important housekeeper, who 
 assured them, " they would hear of our people 
 in the morning," they sought the repose their 
 worn out spirits required.
 
 57 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1 HE sisters arose the next morning, anxious 
 to see some of the wonders of the metropolis ; 
 but as they dared not stir out till they had re- 
 ceived orders, breakfast over, a meal they for 
 the first time found comfortless, taken as it was 
 by them alone, and served up in the grand, de- 
 serted-looking dining-room, they sat down at 
 the window, to observe the incessant number of 
 passers-by, both in carriages and on foot: but 
 their minds were too anxious to enable them 
 to derive amusement from the busy scene. 
 
 Every equipage that approached, they thought 
 contained Mrs. Hamilton ; yet, desirous as they 
 were to see her, both felt relieved as they suc- 
 cessively rolled away. At last, a thundering 
 rap announced an important arrival. 
 
 "It is Miss Cleveland, " said Mrs. Davis ; 
 as she almost tumbled down stairs, in her eager- 
 ness to open the door, 
 
 " Bless her dear heart ! how well she does 
 look !" continued the housekeeper, following her 
 up stairs, and vying with Ann for the honour 
 of receiving the young lady's bonnet, and un- 
 tying her pelisse ; while a pompous-looking foot- 
 D 5
 
 58 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 man stood behind, waiting her orders concerning 
 the carriage. Disregarding all these, Almeria 
 approached her timid guests, who were rather 
 overpowered with these proofs of her conse- 
 quence, and extending her hand, welcomed 
 mem in the most kind and cordial manner to 
 London ; at the same time expressing her mo- 
 ther's regret, at being prevented by illness 
 from coming to receive them on their arri- 
 val. Then, dismissing her attendants, she flew 
 to the piano, and, rattling over a lively air, 
 gave her young visitors time to recover their 
 self-possession, and to contemplate the lovely 
 object before them. Miss Cleveland, though 
 only fourteen, appeared considerably older: she 
 was tall and fair, with handsome features, and 
 a sweet, open countenance. Her dress was 
 elegant and becoming, her manners easy and 
 fascinating, when she pleased. Ellen and Clara 
 felt themselves shrink into nothing, on compari- 
 son with their new friend, and were astonished 
 at her condescension. 
 
 " I think, " said that young lady, suddenly 
 starting up, " you have never been in town 
 before : so, if it is agreeable, we will summon 
 John, and take a walk." 
 
 The morning was fine, and the young stran- 
 gers were charmed with tfee gaiety of Oxford- 
 Street, to which place Miss Cleveland conducted 
 them. Every body, as they passed along, turned 
 round to observe them; a circumstance that evi- 
 dently added to Almeria's animation. Her
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 59 
 
 striking figure, and shewy dress, contrasted 
 well with the interesting ^appearance and 
 mourning. habiliments of the sisters. At a large 
 pastry-cook's, Miss Almeria, with almost child- 
 ish eagerness, supplied herself and friends with 
 all that was most tempting ; at the same time 
 telling them, that it was not quite etiquette to 
 be seen there. After visiting the Bazaar, &c. 
 they returned home, where an elegant little 
 dinner, of which Miss C. did the honours, was 
 served up : an introduction to four or five cats, 
 birds, dormice, &c. followed ; all of which were 
 duly admired by Ellen and Clara, who were 
 charmed by the beauty and sweetness of their 
 new friend, and struck with the delicacy of feel- 
 ing she evinced, in making no unpleasant allu- 
 sions to the^ past, but endeavouring to make 
 them feel themselves at home. The next day 
 was Saturday, and to dinner Mrs. Hamilton 
 arrived. She was handsome in her person, but 
 her manners appeared cold, contrasted with her 
 letters. She, however, welcomed her young 
 guests very kindly; appeared surprised at their 
 growth, and enquired how they had passed their 
 time. The manners of her daughter changed 
 from the moment of her arrival. She rang the 
 bell with a violence that brought up all the ser- 
 vants, was capricious, difficult to please, &c. 
 
 On Sunday morning, after breakfast, " pray, 
 mama," said she, "will the Miss Mordaunts go 
 to church, or to chapel, with us ?" 
 D 6
 
 60 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 " They will do which they prefer, my love," 
 answered Mrs. Hamilton ; " but I should cer- 
 tainly wish them to hear Mr. Drake." 
 
 Ellen, of course, professed their readiness to 
 attend her, wherever she went herself. On the 
 carriage coming to the door, they all accordingly 
 
 set off for Street. It was rather late, and 
 
 with great difficulty they pushed and elbowed 
 their way, through the narrow and crowded 
 aisle, to the pew allotted to them: when this 
 was at last accomplished, and they had leisure 
 to look round, how were Ellen and Clara 
 astonished at the scene that presented itself! 
 Gallery rose above gallery, crowded with per- 
 sons, mostly well-dressed; while every part 
 of every avenue was filled with the poor and 
 dirty, the effluvia of whose breath, as they 
 leaned for support on the top of Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton's pew, almost made them sick. The Rev. 
 Stephen Drake was in the middle of an ex- 
 tempore prayer. He was a middle-aged man, 
 of a common cast of features, but possessing 
 an open, shrewd, and good-tempered coun- 
 tenance. His dress was ordinary, and, devoid 
 of the graceful aid of sacerdotal vestments, ap- 
 peared to Ellen without dignity. The multitude, 
 however, seemed to devour his words, even be- 
 fore he uttered them, while an almost death-like 
 silence prevailed. For this they made them- 
 selves amends, at the close of the petition ; first, 
 by a general chorus of hems, coughing, blow-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 61 
 
 ing noses, &c. ; and afterwards by joining the 
 clerk in a vociferous outcry, denominated sing- 
 ing, there being no instrumental music, as Mr. 
 Drake did not choose to owe any of his popula- 
 rity to such adventitious aid. When this was 
 ended, he commenced a rambling, chit-chat 
 sort of sermon, the greater part of which had 
 no more connection with his text than with any 
 other part of Scripture. At first, his periods 
 were occasionally closed by an assenting groan 
 from some of his hearers ; but, by the time he 
 had proceeded about half an hour, many were 
 comfortably asleep. Of these, it is however 
 but justice to add, a large proportion had walk- 
 ed considerable distances, bringing with them 
 provisions for the day. 
 
 Miss Almeria had very early joined this party ; 
 and Clara, overpowered by the heat, smells, &c. 
 had ventured to follow her example : but curi- 
 osity to discover the cause of the wonderful at- 
 traction to Mr. Drake's chapel, kept Ellen quite 
 awake. He did not rant, and it was difficult in 
 this particular sermon to judge in what respect 
 his doctrine differed from the church he had 
 left. His congregation appeared chiefly to 
 consist of tradesmen retired from business, or 
 those doing well in the world. Ellen was as- 
 tonished at the genei'al display of finery in people 
 professing " to have come out from the world," 
 in women professing, in a superior degree, 
 " godliness. " 
 
 The sermon came to a conclusion at last, and
 
 62 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the party returned as they came. In the after- 
 noon Mrs. Hamilton said she was going to 
 enquire after Mr. Drake, and that she recom- 
 mended the young ladies to take a drive in the 
 Park. Clara was delighted at the proposal ; but 
 Ellen, accustomed to see the Sabbath considered 
 a day of rest for animals as well as man, was 
 beyond measure surprised to find this pious lady 
 thus countenance a breach of the fourth com- 
 mandment. Not choosing, however, to appear 
 singular or precise, she made no objection, and 
 to the Park they went. Almeria not thinking 
 she was sufficiently seen in the carriage, they 
 got out to walk ; and here, again, admiration 
 followed their steps, though the presence of the 
 servant fortunately prevented their being ac- 
 costed. The scerle was gay, and the young 
 strangers were much struck with its novelty ; 
 but Ellen could not forbear contrasting this 
 mode of spending Sunday with what she had 
 been accustomed to. 
 
 At tea, a message was delivered from Mrs. 
 Hamilton, that she remained with Mr. Drake, 
 and would join them at chapel. There, ac- 
 cordingly, they found her, and there they en- 
 dured a repetition of the morning's service ; only 
 that the heat and crowd were increased, and 
 slumber more inevitable. Ellen and Clara 
 were abundantly stared at ; and their sudden 
 appearance excited much curiosity, and many 
 conjectures, some by no means charitable. 
 
 Monday and Tuesday were devoted to seeing
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 6S 
 
 sights, except that on Tuesday evening they 
 went again to chapel, and had the honour of 
 being introduced to the great man himself. 
 Nothing could be more kind and cordial than 
 his reception of them ; and the young hearts of 
 Ellen and Clara were completely won by his 
 condescension and good-humour. He gave 
 them both a pressing invitation to his house in 
 the country, where they found Mrs. Hamilton 
 was in the habit of frequently visiting ; and it 
 was agreed, that they, with Miss Almeria, 
 should go down early on the Wednesday morn- 
 ing, that the carriage might return for Mrs. 
 H. and her friend. 
 
 Almeria, delighted at the thoughts of the 
 bustle they should create, by going to Elm- 
 House sooner then was expected, was in high 
 spirits, and amused herself by pointing out to 
 her companions every cottage they approached, 
 as the object of their journey, pleased at keep- 
 ing them in suspence. At last, the carriage 
 really drove up to the entrance of a handsome 
 honse, where the outcry of the dogs, and the 
 disconcerted looks of the servants, proved they 
 were right. The business of scouring and 
 cleaning was going on every where, and for 
 some minutes no one above the rank of a 
 domestic appeared. At last, a little fat good- 
 looking woman entered, bearing in her aspect 
 the air of, what she really had been, a house- 
 keeper.
 
 64- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 " So, Mrs. Adams," said Miss Cleveland, 
 " we have taken you by surprise." 
 
 " No, darling! not at all," answered she; "only 
 we are vexed, not to be in better order for you : 
 but just step into the parlour, and I'll soon light 
 ye a fire." 
 
 " Pray why does not Miss Miller come 
 forth," asked Almeria. 
 
 " O, poor soul ! she is just slipping on her 
 gown, but she will be down in a minute." 
 
 Miss Miller now entered, a melancholy look- 
 ing nondescript person, quite the reverse of the 
 last, as she was very thin ; against her, however, 
 who happened to have a lover in the family, 
 Miss Cleveland directed an incessant battery, 
 which was only interrupted by the entrance of 
 an ancient pair, who, as Mr. Drake's distant re- 
 latives and earlyfriends, hadfound an asylum from 
 misfortune in his spacious and hospitable home. 
 
 " So, dear !" said the worthy Mrs. Barker, 
 " you are come without mamma ; and pray," con- 
 tinued she, peering through her spectacles, "who 
 are these pretty lasses you have brought with 
 you." 
 
 " O, my friends," answered Almeria, care- 
 lessly ; " but pray where are Harriet, and Mar-y, 
 and Benjamin, that they do not show them- 
 selves ?" 
 
 " You see, dear," observed Mrs. Barker, 
 " nobody expected ye so early, so they are just 
 stepped to London."
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 65 
 
 " And we, I suppose, are to be starved in 
 the mean time," said Miss Cleveland. 
 
 " Ono, my sweetest!" answered Mrs. Adams, 
 coaxingly, " I will just get you any one thing 
 you will name." 
 
 At this, Miss Cleveland was appeased ; and 
 consequentially ordering whatever she thought 
 would give most trouble, she took her two 
 companions to see the fine gardens and pleasant 
 fields attached to the house. Surely, thought 
 Ellen, this is quite a Noah's ark; there is no 
 end of its inhabitants. " Pray, Miss Cleve- 
 land," asked she, timidly, " is there any Mrs. 
 Drake?" 
 
 " O yes, my dear," answered her friend, " a 
 second wife, chosen entirely for her meekness. 
 She is confined at present, for the first time, 
 but nobody when she is well; but I will take 
 you to her some day." 
 
 At dinner, Miss Almeria was capricious and 
 teazing ; but her humour met no contradiction 
 from the obsequious party assembled. At night, 
 Mrs. Hamilton and Mr. Drake arrived from 
 London ; and before him, who controuled even 
 her high spirit, Miss Cleveland was again 
 agreeable. Harriet and Mary Drake, with 
 their brother, and an acquaintance of his, like- 
 wise graced the supper-table ; and when Ellen 
 retired to her room, she lay sometime awake, 
 revolving in her mind what could possibly be 
 the powerful motive which could have connected
 
 66 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the genteel and well-educated Mrs. Hamilton 
 with this strange and heterogeneous group : 
 she likewise felt for the mistress of the house- 
 hold, who seemed lost among so many visitors 
 and grown up daughers.
 
 67 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1 HE next morning, at a very early hour, the 
 family assembled to a breakfast, such as Ellen and 
 Clara had never before witnessed ; after which 
 they met to family prayers, in the study ; and as 
 Mr. Drake uttered an unexceptionable and ge- 
 neral petition, listened to with reverence and 
 attention by so many persons, (for most of the 
 servants were present,) Ellen was affected and 
 impressed by the scene, so charming is real 
 piety wherever witnessed. When this was over, 
 Miss Almeria informed them there would be 
 fine fun presently, as this was the open day, or, 
 in other words, the day on which Mr. Drake 
 was understood to be at home and at leisure. 
 
 Accordingly, about twelve o'clock, company 
 began to arrive, as the dinner hour at Elm 
 House was never latter than two ; first came, in 
 their own chaise, Mr. and Mrs. Jones, wealthy 
 butchers in Fleet-market ; next arrived, on foot, 
 a Mr. Reeves, who, as Almeria informed her 
 friends, was a young undertaker, and a lover of 
 Mary's. It did not appear that their father's 
 way of life had at all elevated the views of his 
 children, since they had married humbly ; and 
 Mary now received her vulgar little beau with
 
 68 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 much complacency. Mr. Hogg, a person who 
 officiated for Mr. Drake in cases of emergency, 
 or during his absence, was next set down by the 
 stage. He was, indeed, a curious figure ; and 
 afforded a fine field for Miss Cleveland's ridi- 
 cule. Anxious to conform himself as much as 
 possible, in body as well as mind, to his great 
 patron, he had combed his lank raven locks into 
 the exact shape of Mr. Drake's wig, imitated the 
 cut of his coat, the colour of his stockings, &c. 
 and never ventured to open his mouth, other- 
 wise than as a passport to his stomach, except 
 to echo some remark of " the bishop," as he 
 sometimes facetiously called himself, and liked 
 to be called. Nothing could more strongly prove 
 the tenacious jealousy of Mr. Drake, than his 
 choosing for his occasional representative the 
 poor, ignorant, and .vulgar Mr. Hogg. 
 
 " Now," said Almeria, " we shall be refreshed 
 with metal more attractive," as two genteel- 
 looking young men, accompanied by a lady, 
 walked up to the door. 
 
 At Elm-House, there was always a sitting- 
 room, appropriated to the least important part 
 of the inmates. Visitors only were permitted 
 to approach, unbidden, the sanctum sanctorum, 
 or study, where Mr. Drake delivered his oracles ; 
 consequently, Ellen and Clara had no oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the company till dinner was 
 announced. Then, indeed, the table literally 
 groaned with costly piles of food ; for, in addi- 
 tion to the produce of the domain, presents of
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 69 
 
 every kind poured in from morning to night. 
 Mr. Drake noticed his young friends with his 
 usual drollery and kindness ; loaded their plates 
 with whatever he thought would prove a treat 
 to them, and repeatedly desired they should be 
 made much of. Ellen and Clara, accustomed 
 to the economical arrangements of a small fa- 
 mily, were lost in admiration at the munificence 
 that prevailed at Elm- House, and quite disposed 
 to consider its owner the infallible person he 
 was represented. 
 
 Mr. Campbell, one of the gentlemen last 
 mentioned, seemed quite at home. He was a 
 learned and clever young man, useful on 
 literary occasions. His friend, Mr. Hilton, 
 appeared nearly a stranger: he had been 
 educated for the church, but certain books hav- 
 ing raised in his mind scruples, he had come 
 to Elm-House to have his doubts cleared up. 
 He was silent and gloomy, the lively tone of 
 the company not being at all to his taste. Miss 
 Campbell was a relation of Mr. Campbell, a 
 woman of fortune and education, who having 
 suffered a severe disappointment, had turned 
 the energy of a very active mind to a desire of 
 being singular, and a rage for making prose- 
 lytes. She was unhappily one of those persons 
 who do more injury to the cause of true religion 
 than its most violent enemies, by making it 
 appear ridiculous ; disregarding the " still cha- 
 rities" of life; overlooking the positive com- 
 mands of St. Paul, who evidently intended
 
 70 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 women to live in the shades of private life, de- 
 voted to charity and good works, forgetting 
 the advice of another apostle : " Study to be 
 quiet, and do your own business." She was 
 incessantly meddling with the concerns of every 
 family, who were so unfortunate as to be ac- 
 quainted with her. Conceited, bigoted, and 
 vain, she yet possessed pleasant manners ; and 
 having just accomplished, as she thought, the 
 conversion of a young officer who had been ill 
 in the same house where she lodged, on whom, 
 though a perfect stranger, she had intruded 
 herself, she now assisted Mrs. Hamilton in 
 keeping up an agreeable conversation, and 
 throwing the more vulgar part of the company 
 into the back-ground. The sight of three new 
 faces, was, however, very welcome to her eyes, 
 as she immediately set them down her prey. Mr. 
 Hilton, as the most important, was to be at- 
 tended to first; but she addressed various kind 
 and flattering attentions to the Mordaunts by 
 way of a beginning. 
 
 The afternoon was devoted by Mr. Drake 
 and the elders of the company to taking then* 
 siesta ; while the remainder walked in the gar- 
 dens, took snuff, talked scandal, &c. 
 
 Just as they were re-assembling to tea, a hand- 
 some landau stopped at the gate, from which 
 alighted rather an ill-assorted couple, who were 
 most cordially received. Mr. Andrewes was a 
 little man, with a most melancholy and despond- 
 ing countenance: a nervous disease preyed on his
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 71 
 
 health and spirits, which threatened to termi- 
 nate in derangement. He was a wealthy mer- 
 chant, and being in great anxiety for the fate of 
 his soul, had joined the congregation of Mr. 
 Drake some months since, in hopes of finding 
 the spiritual aid he needed. His wife, a tall 
 and handsome woman, much younger than 
 himself, accompanied him, " par complaisance" 
 indeed, it was quite indifferent to her where she 
 went, provided she could shew the finery with 
 which she was always loaded ; and as neither 
 
 flirting nor gay attire were forbidden at 
 
 Chapel, it suited her as well as any other. 
 
 When tea was over, which like all the meals 
 at Elm- House took up a long time, the whole 
 party again retreated to the study, where they 
 remained, till, at an early hour, the carriages 
 were summoned to convey them home. 
 
 Friday was always set apart by Mr. .Drake 
 for preparing his sermon and writing letters ; 
 he was, therefore, scarcely visible : and the 
 morning being wet, Miss Cleveland thought it 
 would be a good opportunity to shew her- new 
 friends how they were privileged. She ac- 
 cordingly spent the greater part of it in teazing 
 and disturbing the party in the saloon, as she 
 called it ; throwing ink over their work, over- 
 turning the tables, teazing Mary's favourite 
 cat, and altogether made herself so disagreeable, 
 that Ellen, quite ashamed of her conduct, ven- 
 tured to expostulate with her, an offence 
 Miss Aimer ia did not soon forgive.
 
 72 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Saturday took the Devon shire- Place party 
 back to London ; and on Sunday morning 
 early, Mr. Drake's coach, which came out on 
 no other occasion, conveyed him and his family 
 to chapel. Ellen, charmed with his open gene- 
 rous character, and completely won by the pa- 
 ternal kindness he had shown towards them, 
 now endeavoured to discover in his preaching 
 that resemblance to the apostles for which he 
 thought himself remarkable ; but in vain : his 
 discourses appeared to her to have neither 
 beginning nor end. He informed his hearers 
 they were in a state of grace, elect, ac- 
 cepted; denounced other teachers as blind 
 leaders of the blind ; found figurative meanings 
 in the most plain, practical precepts ; and said 
 not one word of the meekness, humility, and 
 self-denial necessary, to be at least endeavoured 
 after, by those who profess to take the religion 
 of our Saviour and his disciples as their guide 
 and pattern. He pronounced almsgiving, 
 indeed, to be self-righteousness, filthy rags, &c., 
 although very benevolent himself, and incul- 
 cated that grace was all. 
 
 Ellen had written to Caroline, describing the 
 delightful reception they had met with, the 
 sights they had seen, and, above all, the new 
 world in which they had found themselves at 
 Elm-House. Their kind friends, though grati- 
 fied by part of the account, were much sur- 
 prised by the other ; and fearing the young 
 minds of Ellen and Clara might be perplexed
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 73 
 
 by all they would see and hear, in regard to 
 religion, Dr. Stanhope resolved to address them 
 on the subject, which he did as follows : 
 
 " MY DEAR CHILDREN, 
 
 " You are doubtless much astonished at being 
 suddenly thrown into a family where the most 
 important of all worldly affairs, the worship of 
 God, is carried on in so different a manner to 
 what you have been accustomed. Why we are 
 permitted to see all things in such different, and 
 even opposite lights, is one of those mysteries 
 no man can develope ; but observing it to exist 
 as it does, no one can wonder that this dif- 
 ference of opinion extends to religion, particu- 
 larly, as no where in the New Testament is any 
 expressyom prescribed ; but every one allowed 
 to pray, so as he pray frequently, and in 
 earnest, when and where he pleases. The na- 
 tural infirmity of man requiring, however, 
 helps, a church was ordained, in some shape, 
 by the Apostles themselves : but this becoming 
 in time corrupt, has been altered and modified, 
 or as we consider, reformed. Many worthy 
 and pious persons, still imagining that we had 
 not gone far enough, branched off from this 
 reformed church into separate sects; and as 
 many of them directed their attention chiefly to 
 the poor, the ignorant, and the abandoned, for 
 whom the established religion had not suf- 
 ficiently provided, they have been of incalcul- 
 able use in extending the kingdom of Christ. 
 E
 
 74 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 They allege, in many instances too truly, that 
 the regular clergy are supine, luke-warm, de- 
 basing their sermons into mere moral essays. 
 Anxious to avoid this reprehensible and dan- 
 gerous error, they sometimes fly into the other 
 extreme ; and forgetting that ' faith without 
 works is dead,' and * If ye love me, keep 
 my commandments,' recommend the necessity 
 of belief, as all. This doing, they leave the 
 other equally necessary half undone. But as 
 this mode is infinitely easier than the other, 
 people wish to give credit to it; and hence 
 arises its popularity. Mr. Drake, moreover, in 
 differing from all others, even of this class, 
 gratifies the love of novelty common to the 
 human heart ; while the wonderful things he 
 relates, as having happened to himself, suits 
 with that desire after the marvellous found in 
 weak and vulgar minds. These, united with 
 his gracious, pleasant manners, his generosity, 
 cheerfulness, and the licence he affords, by his 
 example, to the love of dress, good living, and 
 speaking uncharitably of others, suffice to ren- 
 der him the idol you describe. But, while we 
 agree with him, ' that practical sermons, as they 
 are called, recommending certain virtues, with"- 
 out inculcating the great scriptural truths of re- 
 demption, grace, &c., which can alone incite or 
 enable us to forsake sin ; what is it, but to put 
 together the wheels of a watch, and set the 
 hands, forgetting the main-spring, which alone 
 can enable it to go?' we at the same time
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 75 
 
 contend, that a system, however popular, that 
 excludes charity, humility, and self-denial, can- 
 not be the religion of Christ, is not founded on 
 the Scriptures : from both of which we are 
 taught, that though we can of ourselves do 
 nothing, the divine assistance, which shall be 
 granted to our earnest supplication, shall enable 
 us, ' denying ungodliness and sinful lusts, to 
 live righteously, soberly, and godly, in this 
 present world,' ' born again unto righteous- 
 ness,' and relying on the alone merits of our 
 Saviour for salvation in the next. That this 
 may be the happy lot of my dear children, 
 that they ' may not be shifted about with every 
 wind of doctrine,' is the earnest prayer of 
 their affectionate friend and pastor, 
 
 " CHARLES STANHOPE." 
 
 The contents of this excellent letter afforded 
 complete satisfaction to the mind of Ellen, and 
 she immediately carried it to Clara. 
 
 " O ! " said that volatile young lady, ' pray 
 spare me, dear sister, I shall never be a me- 
 thodist. But you recollect, ' le wai Amphitrion' is 
 always ' celui ou Von dine ; and I like amazingly 
 to divert myself with the good things and odd 
 people of Elm House. Besides, 1 see I am 
 already a favourite ; and should the good lady 
 pop off, might perhaps take pity on the widower 
 myself: what I understand he makes by his 
 trade would be no bad speculation." 
 
 " Dear Clara," answered Ellen, " do not talk 
 E 2
 
 76 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 so lightly ; consider, what would Mrs. Hamilton 
 say, if she heard you." 
 
 " O, for that matter," observed her sister, 
 " I hear from Mrs. Allen, that her lady has fol- 
 lowed several different preachers since her hus- 
 band has been abroad ; so, if I become Mrs, 
 Drake, she will only have to look out for a new 
 one." 
 
 The first week of the young orphans' stay 
 with Mrs. Hamilton proved a fair specimen of 
 many that succeeded it. Miss Almeria, who 
 had been sent for from school to receive them, 
 after many delays, was at last sent back again, 
 to the great relief of the whole family. Ellen 
 and Clara were shocked to witness in her the 
 ruinous effects of indulgence ; and to see her 
 open, lovely countenance, distorted and rendered 
 ugly by passion and ill-temper. Tyrannical 
 towards every one, her mother was the favourite 
 object on whom she wreaked her perverseness ; 
 and as she chose to appear extremely jealous of 
 her attention to Mr. Drake, Mrs. Hamilton 
 was pleased that she should have young com- 
 panions to assist in amusing her. No sooner, 
 however, was she departed, than her mother 
 and Mr. Drake began to hold consultations 
 concerning the future fate of the sisters. Con- 
 scious she had entirely gained their grateful and 
 affectionate hearts, aware she could influence 
 them to her wishes, Mrs. Hamilton began her 
 operations, by prejudicing their minds against 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Mordaunt ; whom she represented
 
 I 
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 71 
 
 as an austere, self-righteous person, spending 
 her time and money among the poor ; an enemy 
 to innocent mirth, and one who would not rest tiU 
 she had made her young companions as phari- 
 saical as hersel Then she observed, how 
 could she part with them to such a distance ? 
 And what would become of Almeria, who loved 
 them as her sisters ? It was evident, also, that 
 Providence had laid them on Mr. Drake's mind 
 in a very remarkable manner, and who could 
 tell what might be the result of the petitions of 
 a man so prevalent with God ? These flattering 
 observations, coinciding as they did with Ellen's 
 previous prejudice against her aunt, and her 
 reluctance to leave their other friends, she was 
 easily induced to defer for the present answering 
 Mrs. Mordaunt's letter, written to enquire when 
 she should send her servant to meet them ; al- 
 though she felt some self-reproach at thus 
 evading the arrangement made for them by 
 their mother. But then, thought she, our dear 
 mamma did not foresee our meeting with so 
 many and such powerful friends, or she never 
 would have banished us to such a distance from 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Drake, who had become really attached 
 to both, particularly Clara, was anxious they 
 should remain in his house or neighbourhood; 
 but as Mrs. Hamilton was aware this would not 
 be eligible at present, even if they would consent 
 to it, she was rather puzzled how to proceed, 
 when Ellen received a letter, from Mrs. Anderson, 
 E 3
 
 78 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the old friend to whom Mrs. Mordaunt had 
 alluded in her last illness, in which, after lament- 
 ing the loss she had herself sustained, she ob- 
 served how happy she should have felt in re- 
 ceiving into her house those she had always 
 loved as daughters, had it not been differently 
 arranged for them. This opening was sufficient 
 for Mrs. Hamilton, who remarked how much 
 more comfortable her dear girls would have felt 
 in such a family, where, too, they would have 
 been at an easy distance from her, than in going 
 among strangers. She thought, however, the 
 least they could do would be to pay Mrs. An- 
 derson a visit, as, after that, there would still be 
 time to go to Scotland. 
 
 Anxious to see their dear friend and her son* 
 whom they loved like a brother, both sisters 
 were charmed at a proposal so considerate and 
 so kind ; and, merely writing to announce their 
 approach, set off a few days after for Wood- 
 bridge, where they received a truly maternal 
 welcome from the worthy Mrs. Anderson, as^ 
 well as an affectionate reception from Mordaunt, 
 who, as the godson of Ellen and Clara's mother, 
 had been named after her.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER. VII. 
 
 MRS. ANDERSON was the daughter, as well as 
 widow, of a clergyman, a woman of strong 
 understanding, cultivated mind, and warm feel- 
 ings. She was likewise truly pious ; and although 
 she had known much sorrow, her character re- 
 tained the energy of youth. Delighted with the 
 present acquisition to her >society, she readily 
 transferred to the children the faithful friendship 
 she had borne their mother, resolving to endea- 
 vour to render her abode as pleasant as possible 
 to them, in order that their stay might be pro- 
 longed. Mordaunt Anderson, her only child, 
 resided with her, under the care of the worthy 
 vicar, who had formerly been his father's curate. 
 
 They were universally respected in Wood- 
 bridge : where, as in most large villages, there 
 was much good society. Its inhabitants, how- 
 ever, accustomed to each other, were always 
 pleased with novelty, and greeted the arrival of 
 two such young and pretty strangers with much 
 cordiality. 
 
 Ellen was entirely charmed with all she saw, 
 as an early summer was putting on its most at- 
 tractive charms ; but Clara missed the flattery 
 and bustle to which she had been accustomed at
 
 80 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Elm-House. Mrs. Anderson thought, as her 
 education was still incomplete, she ought either 
 to go to school again, or have masters at home ; 
 and as the first could not be submitted to, Mor- 
 daunt offered to become her instructor, an office 
 for which he was sufficiently qualified, had he 
 not been of a disposition as lively as his pupil : 
 as it was, the books intended for study were 
 thrown at each other's heads ; for Clara, always 
 averse to application, had been by no means 
 improved by the life of liberty and idleness 
 she had latterly led, and she now considered the 
 wise admonitions of her real friend unnecessary 
 restraint and severity. 
 
 A very literary taste prevailed in this little 
 town; where were found poets and poetesses, 
 both young and old, of various degrees of merit. 
 Among these, and the other young people who 
 courted their acquaintance, Ellen and Clara 
 looked round for that indispensable article, in the 
 opinion of girls of their age, a friend ; and they 
 soon thought themselves suited. Miss Maria 
 Egerton was a person of considerable conse- 
 quence in the little circle where she moved. She 
 was well connected, and possessed what was 
 there considered a good fortune. She was sen- 
 sible and accomplished, with feelings naturally 
 very strong ; although she had, with unceasing 
 vigilance, regulated them down to what she 
 thought the standard of propriety and good- 
 breeding. She was, indeed, considered among 
 the elders of the village, a paftern young lady ;
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 81 
 
 and being a great favourite with Mrs. Anderson, 
 was by her introduced to Ellen, as a person to 
 whom she was exactly suited, although Miss 
 Egerton was several years older than Ellen 
 She resided at Woodbridge, with an aunt and 
 only brother, the particular friend of Mordaunt. 
 Near to the cottage of Mrs. Anderson lived a 
 dashing Irish family, consisting of several sons, 
 and one daughter, the belle of the village : they 
 had never sought the acquaintance of these 
 their quiet neighbours, till the arrival of the Miss 
 Mordaunts ; and although they were then coolly 
 received, time was afforded for the fair Julia to 
 take a great fancy to Clara. The intimacy gra- 
 dually occasioned by the inviolable friendship of 
 these silly girls was an unfortunate circumstance 
 for the sisters: as, although Mrs. Anderson 
 always remonstrated against it, and never would 
 visit at the house herself; yet, as Mordaunt was 
 now included in the invitations, and much gra- 
 tified by them, and as no ostensible reason ex- 
 isted for refusing them, they were left unguarded 
 to the fascination of very agreeable, but not 
 always select, society. Mrs. Baldwin herself 
 possessed considerable wit and talent; and as 
 her daughter was too beautiful and too accom- 
 plished to fear competition, she delighted in 
 assembling together all that were in the least 
 distinguished, either in mind or person, of the 
 young people that her neighbourhood contained, 
 or her influence could attract. The officers 
 quartered in the village were always received, 
 E 5
 
 82 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 provided they were well recommended ; for Mr. 
 Baldwin, a quiet, worthy man, who left most 
 things to the management of his lady, was not 
 quite deficient in worldly prudence. 
 
 Between this family and that of Miss Egerton 
 there had long subsisted a grudge ; and Maria 
 wondered how Ellen could endure the frivolity 
 of their manners : but flattery, sweet at all times, 
 is particularly seductive to the young and timid ; 
 and Mrs. Baldwin was too fond of it herself not to 
 retail in large portions among her guests the in- 
 cense she herself received. Ellen, charmed with 
 her kindness towards them, endeavoured to pal- 
 liate the conduct she could not entirely approve, 
 of the mistress of the mansion, while she loved its 
 good and excellent master. As to the pretty Julia, 
 she was every thing by turns, and nothing long, 
 as her character depended on that of the heroine 
 of her last novel ; always, however, aiming to , 
 be what she was not, living only when admired, 
 spending the morning's leisure in preparation for 
 the evening's exhibition, her head was as empty, 
 and her manners as affected, as her form was 
 beautiful and her face lovely. Still, however, 
 as she had her moments of t ennui t when men 
 were actually not to be had, she was pleased to 
 have at her command the lively spirits of Clara, 
 particularly as in her she feared not a rival, for- 
 getting that attraction of manner may sometimes 
 vie with personal charms ; and this was fre- 
 quently the case, when the self-satisfied Julia 
 perceived it not.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 83 
 
 Among the variety of characters assembled in 
 this hospitable house, the favourite resort of the 
 gentry of the neighbourhood, as well as within 
 reach of visitors from London, the gentle, un- 
 obtrusive Ellen was little regarded; although 
 Mrs. Baldwin had penetration enough to dis- 
 cover her superiority to the generality of girls 
 of her age. She was, however, fortunately, one 
 of those persons who can be amused by looking 
 on, without the slightest desire of .playing a dis- 
 tinguished role herself; and this disposition, 
 united to a talent of deriving from every thing 
 all the entertainment it is calculated to afford, 
 enables its possessor to pass through life much 
 more smoothly than those whose insatiable va- 
 nity and unreasonable expectations scarcely any 
 homage or earthly invention can satisfy. 
 
 The talk excited among the inhabitants of 
 the village was scarcely subsided, after the ar- 
 rival of the Miss Mordaunts, before it was again 
 called forth, by Mrs. Egerton announcing one 
 evening at the card-club, that she expected to 
 receive soon the visit of a gentleman related to 
 the family of Maria's mother. He was, she 
 said, in expectation of going out to India, in an 
 important capacity, for which occasion he was 
 studying the foreign dialects ; and being rather 
 in delicate health, she had persuaded him to 
 come to them for change of air. " I had another 
 motive in view, beside the health of his body," 
 added the good lady, with sparkling eyes; " for," 
 continued she, shaking her head, and dealing 
 E 6
 
 84 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the cards with peculiar deliberation, " he does 
 not think exactly as one could wish, though 
 prodigious clever." This mysterious hint ex- 
 cited a due degree of concern and attention ; 
 while one lady of the party, who had daughters, 
 wondered whether he was thinking of Miss 
 Egerton as a wife to take out with him ; and 
 another, who had sons, resolved to be extremely 
 attentive, in case he should take a fancy to one 
 of her boys. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn arrived ; but although a party 
 had been previously arranged, to show him to 
 the admiring guests, he did not make his ap- 
 pearance, neither did he accept any of the invi- 
 tations with which he was liberally favoured ; 
 but Mrs. Egerton manufactured all the apologies 
 required. This worthy woman was, however, 
 truly mortified, when her guest refused to ac- 
 company them on Sunday to the village church, 
 as she had greatly depended on the powerful 
 preaching of the pious vicar, to rectify those 
 wrong opinions he had unfortunately imbibed ; 
 particularly as he always listened with impatience 
 to her own well-meaning exordiums. 
 
 " Pray, what do you think of our visitor ?" 
 said Maria to Ellen, one fine evening when 
 they as usual formed part of a large walking 
 party. 
 
 " You forget," answered her friend, " I have 
 not even seen him." 
 
 " Oh, true," replied Miss Egerton ; " he does 
 indeed make himself very scarce, even to us.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 85 
 
 But John is charmed with him, and indeed he 
 would be quite to your taste." 
 
 " I do not think so," added Ellen: he 
 avows opinions I consider dangerous and horrid; 
 and with all the talents you attribute to him, I 
 cannot think of such a being, without fear and 
 dislike." 
 
 " Ah !" said Maria, " how soon you would 
 forget both in his society ! Besides, you should 
 recollect he never seeks to propagate his opi- 
 nions, or even alludes to them, unless ex- 
 pressly questioned. Surely, then, we should 
 pity his unhappy error, and by every judicious 
 means, endeavour to bring back his otherwise 
 enlightened mind to the pure doctrines of ever- 
 lasting truth. But," added Miss Egerton, with a 
 sigh, " he will leave England soon ; and we can 
 then only pray for him" 
 
 Soon after this conversation, when riding as 
 usual, at a very early hour, and in a most se- 
 questered lane, lost in deep abstraction, Mr. 
 Evelyn's horse took fright; and but for Mr. 
 Baldwin's assistance, who happened to be near 
 at the time, his life would have been in danger. 
 This circumstance brought on an acquaintance 
 between the gentlemen; and Mrs. Baldwin, who 
 had long wished to cast her spells around this 
 mysterious unknown, managed so as to inveigle 
 him into coming to her house one evening. 
 Here Mr. Evelyn discovered that the society of 
 a little country town could be endurable; his 
 own manners were elegant, but marked by melan*
 
 86 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 choly and insouciance. Julia played her favourite 
 songs, arranged her ringlets, showed her lovely 
 dimples, all in vain ; Mr. Evelyn was insen- 
 sible as marble. He, however, promised to come 
 again, and this was victory sufficient over the 
 proud Miss Egerton. 
 
 " I think," said Mrs. Baldwin, when he was 
 gone, " Ellen Mordaunt will be the girl to at- 
 tract Mr. Eveyln." 
 
 " La ! mamma," returned her daughter, pet- 
 tishly, casting a side-glance towards the look- 
 ing-glass, " I am sure he is not worth thinking 
 of at all a great, dismal-looking fellow, not at 
 all the gentleman." 
 
 Mrs. Baldwin was right; Mr. Evelyn was 
 pleased, nay attracted, by the interesting Ellen. 
 To him beauty, gaiety, and accomplishments, 
 were but what he was accustomed to : but the 
 soft intelligence, the unpretending simplicity, 
 the youthful modesty of this country girl, were 
 new. To create an interest in such a pure and 
 guileless bosom,became his insidious endeavour, 
 to watch her varying blushes and tender smiles, 
 his amusement. Whence arises the powerful 
 charm attending youthful diffidence ? Is it be- 
 cause man admires most that which is partly 
 concealed from his view; thatwhich, seen through 
 a mysterious and shifting veil, leaves it to every 
 one's imagination to picture that which he most 
 admires ? Reality never goes far enough to sa- 
 tisfy long together a refined and fastidious 
 taste.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 87 
 
 But what was the impression made on Ellen, 
 by this important addition to her society? At first 
 awe, at the idea of addressing an author, reduced 
 to timid monosyllables her answer to every 
 question he (flattered by the very terror he in- 
 spired) directed to her; but as this subsided, 
 gratified vanity, conscious pride at being the 
 only girl thus distinguished, created together 
 that kind feeling such exclusive, quiet, unobtru- 
 sive attentions must ever raise in an affectionate 
 and humble disposition. She ventured to ascer- 
 tain that Henry Evelyn was the lofty and su- 
 perior character she had always imagined she 
 could only love. Proud towards all save her, 
 with all the fire of genius, disdaining what 
 was low or common, possessing in himself that 
 store of various information that rendered his 
 conversation as instructive as it was agreeable, 
 this gifted being consulted her opinion, bowed 
 to her taste dangerous distinction ! Had he 
 serious views, in directing against the innocent 
 and inexperienced heart of Ellen this powerful 
 though hidden attack? No; but it was an amus- 
 ing speculation^ a study for this hard-hearted, 
 fascinating man of honour. Happily, the in- 
 tended victim was shielded by a panoply, 
 as well as guarded by agency, " he knew 
 not of." 
 
 No sooner did Mrs. Anderson find her young 
 friend likely to be exposed to the danger of his 
 society, than, instead of waiting till it was too 
 late, she raised her warning voice ; for she too
 
 88 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 had foreseen they would mutually please each 
 other. "Remember, my dear child," said she, 
 " that though in Mr. Evelyn you may find a 
 pleasant and an improving acquaintance, you 
 must think of nothing more, even though he 
 should evidently prefer your company to that of 
 any one else. However suitable in a worldly 
 point of view, the woman who marries a man 
 of such principles must be miserable in this 
 world, happy if the insult offered her Saviour 
 endanger not her salvation in the next. A 
 poet always fancies himself in love; and Mr. 
 Evelyn has already flirted with many, to 
 my certain knowledge. Besides, he has squan- 
 dered away his property, and is too poor to 
 marry any one who has not a tolerable fortune; 
 and even if you could flatter yourself into an 
 expectation of effecting his conversion, I doubt 
 whether your friend Maria would thank you for 
 taking the trouble off her hands." 
 
 These remarks sank deep into the reflective 
 mind of Ellen : they seemed incessantly to ring 
 in her ears, and recalled forcibly to her mind the 
 early lessons she had received from her mother. 
 Yet her situation was a dangerous one ; for, be- 
 sides the frequent opportunites she enjoyed of 
 meeting Mr. Evelyn at evening parties, for he 
 now visited at every house where she was ad- 
 mitted, he haunted her steps during their morn- 
 ing rambles. It always happened that he over- 
 took them in the retired and lovely walks, with 
 which the neighbourhood abounded ; and then,
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 89 
 
 it was so natural to give his horse to the care 
 of his servant and join the party. Of course, it 
 always happened, likewise, that he should ad- 
 dress his conversation to Ellen, rather than to 
 her romping companions; who, mil of their own 
 jokes, also happened to drop behind, leaving to 
 Mr. Evelyn all the opportunity he could desire, 
 to expatiate in the ideal world of poetry and 
 romance ; in which Ellen loved to exist, above 
 the common places of this mortal region. She 
 was, indeed, what he had once been, and could 
 always appear, an enthusiastic admirer of the 
 beauties of nature, with a real taste for litera- 
 ture; and when, to amuse her, he repeated charm- 
 ing, and sometimes tender passages, from the 
 best French or Italian authors, Ellen thought she 
 never had understood those charming languages 
 before ; and although her extreme timidity al- 
 lowed her to be little more than a listener during 
 these delightful tefe-a-tetes, Mr. Evelyn thought 
 silence had never been so eloquent, as in the 
 averted eyes and varying complexion of his fair 
 companion. 
 
 Such frequent interviews became, at last, in 
 spite of the gentleman's extreme caution, sus- 
 pected by the neighbourhood ; and Ellen was 
 every where, ironically, congratulated on her 
 conquest. But one of the faults of her character 
 was being too indifferent to the opinion of those 
 she did not care for ; and as she considered her- 
 self quite safe from falling in love with Mr.
 
 90 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Evelyn, and heard from him no hint of any 
 feeling warmer than friendship; as, too, she 
 could only avoid him by secluding herself in her 
 own house, which would, she thought, have an 
 awkward appearance, she resolved not to ap- 
 pear to suspect, by avoiding him, that for which 
 his words, at least, had afforded no foundation. 
 Indeed, it was the respectful delicacy, as well as 
 the friendly courtesy of his manners, that made 
 him so dangerous to a girl of refinement ; and 
 as he never alluded to the important subject on 
 which he knew they differed, Ellen had no op- 
 portunity of using the influence she thought she 
 possessed, for his advantage. Like many men 
 of his description, he thought religion a neces- 
 sary and proper prejudice for women, and ad- 
 mired her the more for her exemplary attention 
 to it. He had even presented himself at church, 
 and as she naturally and truly fancied she was 
 the attraction that drew him there, she was 
 touched by the compliment ; while the sanguine 
 Mrs. Anderson, immediately concluding her 
 Ellen's influence was working the good work in 
 his soul, resolved, satisfied with repeating her 
 cautions, not at present to check their intimacy. 
 But Mrs. Egerton, who had her own views on 
 the subject, was exceedingly offended at the con- 
 tinual absences of her guest; and attributing 
 them to Ellen's art, she resolved to break with 
 the whole family. For this an excuse was soon 
 found, and a serious altercation took place. On
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 91 
 
 this grand occasion, the neighbours divided, 
 taking different sides; but as the family of 
 Woodbridge Cottage was more agreeable than 
 Mrs. Mary Egerton, their partizans were most 
 numerous: and Mr. Evelyn and Miss Mor- 
 daunt were more invited together than ever, 
 particularly by Mrs. Baldwin, who was delighted 
 at the opportunity of revenging former slights. 
 Miss Egerton, with due decorum, continued to 
 visit as usual at Mrs. Anderson's ; but her at- 
 tention to Ellen was evidently forced. Her 
 brother, however, never so happy as when at the 
 cottage, openly took their side, much to the an- 
 noyance of his aunt, already angry at seeing so 
 little of him during his college vacations. 
 
 In spite of Ellen's abstraction, these alterca- 
 tions gave her pain, although she felt confident 
 in herself, that far from courting, she had never 
 even encouraged, Mr. Evelyn's attentions. But 
 she was mistaken ; the gentleness with which 
 she had submitted to being engrossed by him, 
 whether conversation or dancing was the or- 
 der of the evening, on which latter occa- 
 sion he had taken care to insinuate, nothing 
 but the dread of resigning her to another could 
 have induced him to make his hands and legs 
 keep time to a fiddle: the evident pleasure with 
 which she listened to his remarks, or read the 
 books he had lent her was all encouragement. 
 Mr. Evelyn considered her attached to him, 
 and endeavoured to increase that attachment,
 
 92 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 by throwing into his looks and accents that 
 tenderness tew women can resist : this flattered 
 her vanity, but reached not her heart. Still, 
 Mr. Evelyn never committed himself.
 
 93 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A LOVELY summer was now softening into 
 autumn ; and autumn, whose unclouded skies, 
 and moonlight nights, had never appeared so 
 beautiful, as among the changing woods of 
 Kent, began to give place to winter, and to 
 threaten some interruption to an intercourse, 
 which began to be dangerous to both parties j 
 when Ellen was roused from romantic reveries 
 and unprofitable musings, by a letter from Dr. 
 Stanhope, written to inform her of the sudden 
 death of his wife ; and mentioning that Caroline 
 was ill from fatigue and sorrow, and exceedingly 
 anxious her friends should pay her their promised 
 visit; particularly as an excellent opportunity 
 offered for convoying them to the parsonage. 
 
 Ellen, all affectionate anxiety, immediately 
 wrote to Mrs. Hamilton, to say how eager they 
 were to accept this invitation, provided she saw 
 no objection to it; and, on that lady's having 
 replied, that she was aware of none, excepting 
 the expence, and stipulating, that they should 
 return in time to pass part of the Christmas 
 holidays with her, the day for their departure 
 was immediately fixed. Ellen was flattered by 
 the concern this intelligence seemed to occasion
 
 94 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn : he was evidently anxious to dis- 
 cover, whether any particular attraction recalled 
 them to their native village; while Clara, with 
 girlish malice, threw out various hints, concern- 
 ing Edward, in revenge, as she said, for the 
 many slights she had experienced from him, 
 and in consideration of her frequent usefulness, 
 as a blind. It was, however, only his dear friend 
 that he dreaded to lose; and he endeavoured, 
 with much ingenious sophistry, to persuade her 
 into a correspondence on literary subjects. But, 
 though Ellen never attempted any argument with 
 him, she always adhered to her own opinions; and 
 Mr. Evelyn was obliged to bid her a tender adieu, 
 without having gained his point, taking care to 
 observe, he should immediately quit a place, 
 which, with her, would lose all its attraction, and 
 where he ought not to have lingered so long. 
 
 The business of packing up and taking leave 
 was over. Ellen, seated in the vehicle which 
 was to convey her to the dear associates of her 
 early days, had full leisure to recal all that had 
 happened to her, since she left them. How 
 much of human life had passed, in that short 
 period ! Among the crowd of new friends, whose 
 affection had given it interest, the imposing 
 figure of Mr. Evelyn stood prominent; yet, the 
 retrospect of all that had passed between them, 
 did not afford her satisfaction. She felt, that 
 the wish of pleasing him, rather than a rational 
 desire of improvement, had been the stimulus to 
 her application to those studies he had recom-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 9.5 
 
 mended ; and, that the eternal rambles, in which 
 she had passed so large a portion of her time, 
 far from having, as formerly, health and exercise 
 for their object, were prompted by the latent 
 expectation of meeting him in those his favourite 
 haunts. These thoughts recalled to her recol- 
 lection a book he had sent to beguile her jour- 
 ney; and, taking it from her pocket, she found 
 one of the favorite poems of the present age, with 
 pencil-marks drawn through the tender pas- 
 sages, particularly those alluding to the sufferings 
 of a concealed passion. That Mr. Evelyn was a 
 person thus suffering she was left to guess ; 
 but could she be the person who had inspired it ? 
 impossible. Nevertheless, the bare idea led her 
 to analyse the nature and extent of the senti- 
 ments she entertained for him. After a close 
 examination of her own heart, a duty she felt she 
 ought long since to have performed, she thought 
 she ascertained, that the cause of the extreme 
 pleasure his society had certainly afforded her, 
 was chiefly to be ascribed to gratified vanity, as 
 the incense he offered at its shrine was of that 
 delicate and undefined kind, which most flatters 
 the weakness of human nature: but, besides this, 
 his taste, information, and extensive knowledge 
 of the world, made his society, when he chose to 
 exert his various powers, fascinating to all. 
 Upon the whole, she could not but imagine he 
 had been laying siege to her heart ; but, whether 
 he had lost his own, at least to her, was not 
 clear. Inexperienced as she was in such affairs,
 
 96 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 she could not but think such equivocal conduct 
 unfair; and she now felt truly thankful, that 
 circumstances had occurred to afford her time 
 and opportunity to look back. But Ellen was 
 not herself aware of the injury she had already 
 derived from the acquaintance of Mr. Evelyn. 
 He was, in most respects, so superior, as far as 
 mind is concerned, to the common class of men, 
 that his conversation, and the course of reading 
 he had recommended, occurring at the dangerous 
 age of seventeen, had increased the natural 
 refinement and delicacy of her character, till the 
 common good sort of people, with whom all the 
 inhabitants of this earth must principally associ- 
 ate, appeared not only uninteresting but tire- 
 some. Of this she became sensible, when the 
 first joy of meeting her beloved friends was over, 
 and she had time to see them in their every- 
 day characters. Dr. Stanhope and Caroline, 
 indeed, stood their ground; but she was astonished 
 how they could feel any interest in the generality 
 of their neighbours, who now seemed, to her 
 fastidious observation, either provincial, or nar- 
 row-minded, or trifling. This opinion, however, 
 she carefully concealed ; while to them she ap- 
 peared the same gentle, unaffected being she had 
 left them, though greatly improved in person 
 and manners. 
 
 Edward Montague, who feared the emotion 
 her return would excite, had quitted the Parson- 
 age before her arrival, leaving it to the discretion 
 of Caroline to recal him or not, as she judged
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 9? 
 
 best for his future peace. This kind-hearted 
 girl had sounded her friend, and judging from 
 her conversation, as well as her letters, that her 
 heart was still her own, she thought if Ellen 
 were, now that she had seen more of the world, 
 thrown into his society, and enabled to judge 
 coolly of his good qualities, the affair might be 
 brought to a conclusion. But Caroline argued 
 erroneously. Ellen, naturally, thought more 
 highly of herself than she had done; and 
 the character of Edward was too strongly op- 
 posed to that of Mr. Evelyn, to be acceptable to 
 her taste, however her judgment acknowledged 
 its superiority ; and judgment seldom gains the 
 victory at seventeen ! 
 
 Edward came : he looked ill and melancholy. 
 The improvement in Ellen's personal appear- 
 ance gave him no pleasure, because it seemed 
 to remove her farther from his reach; while the 
 coldness of her manners struck a damp upon 
 his feelings, that robbed him of all power to 
 please. If an ardent and first attachment be 
 not shared, it renders its subject any thing but 
 agreeable in the eyes of her who inspires it 
 He had, however, two eloquent advocates. Dr. 
 Stanhope, who knew the world, saw that his 
 favourites were placed in a very awkward situ- 
 ation. The aunt, to whose care they had been 
 consigned, offended at their delays, had not re- 
 newed her invitations. They were, therefore, left 
 in some measure to the care of Mrs. Hamilton, 
 whose strange mode of life rendered her a very
 
 98 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 ineligible protectress. The smallness of their 
 fortunes, and the long time before they would 
 be of age, rendered it doubtful whether they 
 would be sought as wives, by the men with 
 whom they associated. While Clara was so young 
 and volatile that she required positive restraint, 
 who so proper to guard and manage her, as a 
 married sister? All this, he represented to 
 Ellen, while Caroline added her own affection- 
 ate appeal: " Consider," said she, " how hap- 
 py your dear mother would have felt in seeing 
 you united to a religious man ; you cannot urge 
 one real objection to Edward." 
 
 "Only," interrupted Ellen, "that instead of 
 loving, I feel towards him a repugnance, which 
 I cannot describe, or even account for." 
 
 " Oh but, " said Caroline, " that would soon 
 wear off, when you saw more of his real good- 
 ness : as to his agreeable qualities, they are 
 buried under the weight of your frowns, to ap- 
 pear to still greater advantage would you con- 
 descend to smile: besides," continued she, 
 "think, you might settle near us, instead of 
 living at such a distance as Scotland." 
 
 The last argument was not to be resisted. 
 Ellen declared she would try to tolerate and 
 even like him, provided Mrs. Hamilton, for 
 whom she felt the most ardent attachment, 
 should sanction their engagement. In the mean 
 time, she refused to see Edward, who was 
 compelled to address his raptures to her whose 
 influence had thus prevailed ; but, as she fore-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 99 
 
 saw no possible objection to the manly and elo- 
 quent address submitted to her approbation, she 
 set herself to endeavour to reconcile her mind, 
 or rather her fancy, to the disagreeable prospect 
 of becoming, at some future period, the wife of 
 Mr. Montague. The return of the post brought, 
 however, instead of the expected answer to 
 Edward, a short note to herself, in which 
 Mrs. Hamilton begged to know whether her 
 affections were already engaged to him. To 
 this, Ellen answered truly in the negative, al- 
 though she confessed she had a high opinion of 
 his character. 
 
 Two more days elapsed, and brought to her 
 the following epistle. 
 
 " My dear and elder daughter has removed 
 a weight from my heart, in informing me of her 
 indifference to Mr. Montague ; not but that the 
 gentleman's offer is extremely handsome, but 
 your extreme youth, and ignorance of life, 
 render it improper to decide so important 
 an affair hastily. Were I to write volumes, 
 I could scarcely describe all the misery I have 
 seen follow early entanglements. And, indeed, 
 with my sweet Ellen's person and manners, no 
 one can tell what Providence may have in store 
 for her. I have, therefore, written to the young 
 man, declining, in your name, his flattering 
 proposal, and shall consider every moment an 
 age till I can fold to my heart my adopted 
 children. Ever their sincere friend, C. H." 
 F 2
 
 100 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 The effects produced at the Parsonage by 
 this unexpected reply were various. Ellen felt 
 as if a weight was removed from her bosom, 
 and that she could now breathe freely. Ed- 
 ward was in despair Caroline in tears; while 
 Glara could hardly articulate from rage; and 
 Dr. Stanhope, who disliked the whole tenor of 
 the letter, and suspected that the writer had 
 motives she did not avow, felt great displeasure 
 at her thus interfering to prevent a marriage so 
 every way suitable to the orphan she professed 
 to love. Ellen, however, protested the advice 
 of such a friend must be law to her. " Parti- 
 cularly, " said Caroline, reproachfully, " when 
 it accords so well with your own inclinations. " 
 
 As some restraint unavoidably prevailed, 
 where so much difference of opinion existed, 
 Ellen, aware that while she remained at Ash- 
 ford, Edward must be banished from his home, 
 proposed their return; and Caroline, who 
 longed to pour the balm of sympathy into his 
 wounded feelings, did not oppose, as she other- 
 wise would, her friend's wish. Availing them- 
 selves, therefore, of an opportunity that presented 
 itself, and taking a grateful and affectionate 
 leave of the family at the Parsonage, they re- 
 traced their steps to London, where they found 
 Miss Almeria, who had been at home some 
 weeks, and who was tired of tormenting only 
 the servants, cats, and dogs, delighted to see 
 them ; while Mrs. Hamilton, if possible, more
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 101 
 
 kind than ever, exerted herself to procure them 
 every species of amusement in her power. El- 
 len's first thought was to visit Barbara, now at 
 home ; but though Mrs. Hamilton made no ob- 
 jection to the proposal, only putting it off for the 
 present, both sisters soon discovered, that while 
 staying with her, a gentle, but invisible restraint, 
 would chain their movements, and prevent their 
 seeing much of any one else. Mrs. Hamilton, 
 indeed, quite disapproved so worldly an ac- 
 quaintance for them, and resolved gradually to 
 undermine it ; but Ellen's perseverance, at last, 
 brought about an interview, when she found 
 Miss Harcourt over-joyed to see her again, but 
 quite grieved, as she said, to find them in the 
 clutches of the methodists. 
 
 " Pray, my dear," said she, " what have you 
 done with your gentle Romeo? You might 
 really have done worse than putting up with a 
 country parson, considering the set you have 
 fallen into in London. However, I shall never 
 rest till I have hunted you out of it, and I in- 
 tend my Papa shall help me, as I suppose you 
 know I go no more to school." 
 
 In vain, however, did Miss Harcourt, some- 
 times accompanied by her father, besiege Mrs. 
 Hamilton's door ; she contrived, by keeping 
 her young visitors incessantly engaged, that 
 they should meet no more. Mr. Drake, more 
 than ever kind and facetious, filled his house, 
 as usual, with guests and good-cheer, although 
 the health of his young wife was in a state of al- 
 v 3
 
 102 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 most hopeless decay. No allusion was made 
 by any one to Edward ; but when preparing to 
 depart, Mrs. Hamilton observed, she hoped in 
 future to see more of her dear girls, as this was 
 to be the last time of Almeria's leaving home. 
 
 Ellen always grieved to leave this generous, 
 flattering friend, even though going back to the 
 place where she had passed such pleasant hours, 
 where she was sure of being so affectionately 
 welcomed !
 
 103 
 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MRS. Anderson enquired very minutely into 
 all that had passed during her young friends' 
 absence; and expressed much disapprobation 
 and surprise at the conduct of Mrs. Hamilton 
 and Ellen towards Edward Montague. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear, " said she, " vanity has 
 been the real cause of your behaviour ; its natu- 
 ral effect is to harden, and render insensible, 
 the heart. You have been more admired than 
 you expected ; but remember you are yet young, 
 and neiv. How soon these attractions fly, you 
 have yet to learn. Mrs. Hamilton, availing 
 herself of your weak side, has counselled so 
 as to suit some unknown purpose of her own. 
 Depend upon it, you will live to repent reject- 
 ing the valuable affection of a worthy man, in 
 circumstances so superior to your own, against 
 whom you can urge no one reasonable objection. 
 I hope reflection will yet render you wiser, and 
 that it will not then be too late." 
 
 When Spring was somewhat advanced, Mr. 
 Evelyn, who declared he had never met with an 
 air so beneficial to his health, as that of Wood- 
 bridge, took up his abode in its neighbourhood, 
 with another friend, as Mrs. Egerton had not 
 F 4
 
 104 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 renewed her invitation. The situation which 
 had been promised to him in India, had been 
 given to another candidate, owing, as it was 
 said, to the suggestion of the great man's wife, 
 by whom it had been promised ; who having, in 
 a conversation with Mr. Evelyn, discovered the 
 opinions he was too honest to conceal, had 
 persuade^ her husband, he was, with all his abili- 
 ties, unsuited for so conspicuous and responsi- 
 ble an office, among a people whom it behoved 
 us to endeavour to conduct by precept and ex- 
 ample, towards the light of Christian truth. 
 Angry and disappointed, his whole soul was at 
 present fixed on a plan for joining the enlight- 
 ened inhabitants of South America; and when 
 the first coolness with which he and Ellen met, 
 had worn off, melted away by the similarity of 
 their tastes and pursuits, he employed all his 
 most seductive eloquence to convince her that 
 man, living in a state of simplicity and freedom, 
 released from the trammels and restraints of 
 polished life, existing, with some congenial 
 companion, for themselves alone, in a state 
 where luxury and want were equally unknown, 
 must be supremely happy. But Ellen's judg- 
 ment was too sound, her heart too much the 
 seat of friendship, to give credence to such 
 visionary opinions, although she again al- 
 lowed herself the indulgence of his society. 
 Indeed, the general report of Woodbridge was 
 that they were engaged to each other privately, 
 on account of his noble relatives ; and several
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 105 
 
 young men, who had admired her gentleness, 
 gave up all thought of contending against so 
 formidable a rival. Reports are known to fly 
 in the most quick and unaccountable manner ; 
 and this soon travelled to London and Devon- 
 shire. Mrs. Hamilton took no notice of it, al- 
 though the circumstance accelerated her plans; 
 but at Ashford, where latent hope, fanned by 
 the breath of friendship, had still lingered in 
 the bosom of Edward, it caused additional 
 suffering. Determined to ascertain the truth, 
 he immediately set out for London, where, acci- 
 dentally falling into company acquainted with 
 Mr. Evelyn, he had his suspicions, as he 
 thought, confirmed. A raging fever sei/ed 
 upon his naturally delicate constitution, and he 
 returned to the Parsonage, only to take to his 
 bed. The ravings of delirium speedily revealed 
 to Caroline the cause of his illness, and, as she 
 had sometimes suspected Ellen was attached to 
 Mr. Evelyn, she was not sorry that suspense 
 was at an end, though grieved at his bodily suf- 
 ferings. She had long struggled against the 
 tenderness his sorrows and his merit had created 
 in her heart, and had taken every possible 
 means to secure his happiness in the manner he 
 wished; during this illness, in which his life 
 was despaired of, her sentiments towards him, 
 however, betrayed themselves, even to the un- 
 suspecting object who inspired them; and he, 
 struck by her generosity and disinterested- 
 F 5
 
 106 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 ness, immediately resolved on his future con- 
 duct. 
 
 No sooner was he enabled to sit up, than he 
 addressed to his kind nurse a letter of thanks, 
 for her unceasing care, concluding with an ear- 
 nest request that she would accept the services 
 of the worthless existence she had preserved, 
 his warmest gratitude, unbounded esteem, 
 and tender friendship ; more he could not offer 
 at present. But if these, united with unceasing 
 solicitude for her happiness, and the entire dis- 
 posal of himself and fortune, could induce her 
 to forgive his former ill-placed love, she should 
 have no reason to repent the favour shown to 
 him ; whilst he would thankfully accept, at her 
 hands, consolation for all that he had suffered. 
 
 He at the same time, though not without a 
 violent effort, addressed a last farewell to Ellen, 
 reproaching her only with leaving it to chance 
 for him to discover her engagement to Mr. 
 Evelyn, wishing her happiness, and men- 
 tioning, that, bound by gratitude, and anxious to 
 force his thoughts from dwelling on all he had 
 lost, he had offered himself to Miss Stanhope ! 
 
 This letter caused great astonishment at 
 Woodbridge ; the disappointment of Mrs. An- 
 derson and Clara could scarcely be expressed. 
 Even Ellen felt mortified ; for much as she had 
 ridiculed his love, the idea of its being trans- 
 ferred to another had never occurred to her. 
 All were aware of the necessity of enquiring 
 into, and stopping the untrue report that had
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 107 
 
 evidently been circulated ; and, accordingly, 
 Mrs. Anderson wrote to Edward, denying posi- 
 tively its truth, reproaching him for so readily 
 giving credit to it, and insisting on having his 
 authority. Edward was in anxious expectation 
 of Caroline's answer when this epistle was brought 
 to him. How did he repent his credulity and 
 precipitation ! His honour was, however, 
 pledged ; and though the first warm feeling of 
 obligation to Caroline, joined to pique towards 
 Ellen, had caused his overture, he resolved to 
 abide by her decision. Against Mr. Evelyn, 
 however, he felt the most justifiable indignation, 
 as he had reason to know it was himself who 
 had given rise to the belief; and in his answer 
 to Mrs. Anderson he expressed himself in terms 
 of such fury, that that lady, aware the less pub- 
 licity given to such affairs the better, felt herself 
 obliged to forbid positively his taking any steps 
 in the business. It was evident he had meant 
 nothing, and it only remained to consign him- 
 self and his conduct to the oblivion and con- 
 tempt it merited. But how felt Ellen on this 
 trying occasion ? Grateful, unspeakably grate- 
 ful, to that kind Providence, which, thanks to 
 her early impressions of piety, and the wise ad- 
 monitions of her maternal friend, had preserved 
 her from the imminent danger of surrendering 
 her youthful affections to a person as selfish as 
 unprincipled. She immediately wrote to Caro- 
 line, who had found herself placed in a distress- 
 F 6
 
 108 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 ing predicament, entirely, and for ever, relin- 
 quishing all thoughts of Edward, of whom she 
 declared she had always been unworthy; ear- 
 nestly intreating her beloved friend to make up 
 to him her cruelty and neglect, and to allow her 
 to continue their attached sister and most sincere 
 well-wisher. 
 
 Edward's health and nerves had been so 
 shattered by the repeated trials of his youth, 
 that Dr. Stanhope, judging it unwise to keep 
 his mind in any state of agitation and suspense, 
 advised his daughter, as best for all parties, to 
 consent to be his wife in a year, provided he had 
 then recovered his health, and continued to wish 
 the union. Meantime this good and worthy 
 man took every method judicious and paternal 
 regard could suggest, to soothe the irritated 
 feelings and soften the natural impetuosity of his 
 future son-in-law; and his wise admonitions, 
 aided by the powerful influence of true religion, 
 and the healing properties of time, failed not of 
 their effect. 
 
 Scarcely had the bustle occasioned by these 
 events subsided at Woodbridge, when Clara 
 received a letter from Miss Almeria, written to 
 inform her, that as she had left school, and was 
 fifteen, she was now, excepting masters, to be 
 exempted from farther trouble or restraint ; but 
 that she could not enjoy this liberty without she 
 could likewise have the society of her dear Clara. 
 Her mama, therefore, hoped she would come to
 
 THE SCHOOL FOH SISTERS. 109 
 
 them as soon as convenient, and stay as long as 
 they could make her comfortable. 
 
 Ellen wished this invitation had been sent to 
 her, as, though Mr. Evelyn was still absent, she 
 was in constant dread of his return ; while Clara, 
 attached to Woodbridge, and disliking Miss 
 Cleveland, expressed the most decided disin- 
 clination. But how could she refuse without 
 giving offence? Mrs. Anderson, who saw they 
 had put themselves partly in Mrs. Hamilton's 
 power, by offending their aunt, however grieved 
 to part with her, thought she could not avoid 
 going to Elm-house for a time ; and Clara gave, 
 at last, a sorrowful consent. As she was a uni- 
 versal favourite in the village, the news that she 
 was going away without her sister, and for an 
 indefinite time, excited universal regret : every- 
 one foresaw she would be made a methodist, 
 and return to them no more. But Clara repelled 
 the idea with indignation ; and declared, if they 
 onjy attempted to convert her, she would be 
 such a plague to them, that they should be glad 
 to get rid of her. Ellen thought there was no 
 danger of this kind ; but Mrs. Anderson, aware 
 of the warm feelings of her young favourite, felt 
 not so assured. She, however, relied on Clara's 
 attachment to her sister as a certain spell to 
 recall her in time ; and poor Clara, full of tears 
 and unwillingness, escorted by Mordaunt, set 
 out for Elm-house. 
 
 Ellen was exceedingly dull at her departure, 
 and expected her letters with impatience ; they
 
 110 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 were written in good spirits, though full of af- 
 fection. She had received the most flattering 
 reception from all the family ; had found poor 
 Mrs. Drake recovered, though she had lost her 
 child, and presiding in her place. The younger 
 Miss Drakes were married, and the house clear- 
 ed of its other supernumeraries. Miss Almeria 
 had apartments and attendants allotted to her- 
 self; and Mrs. Anderson now thought she dis- 
 covered, that the object of Mrs. Hamilton, in 
 opposing her young friend's settling at a distance, 
 was the hope of finding in one of them a suit- 
 able companion for the heiress; and she felt 
 
 extremely indignant at such selfishness, in a 
 
 i c c v 
 
 person making a profession ot religion. 
 
 A month had scarcely elapsed since Clara's 
 departure, when Ellen received a letter from a 
 distant relation of her father, with whom she was 
 ehtirely unacquainted. It was written in a pleas- 
 ing and affectionate style; mentioning " how 
 often the writer had regretted not being per- 
 sonally known to them ; that having lately met 
 with Clara, and learning from her the abode of 
 her sister, she now addressed her, in the hope 
 of inducing her to favour with her company, 
 for a week or two, at Stoke Park, whither she 
 was going for the summer, her friend and well- 
 wisher, LOUISA OSBOURNE." 
 
 This epistle was accompanied by another 
 from Mrs. Hamilton, congratulating her dear 
 Ellen, on this favourable opening towards an in-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. Ill 
 
 timacy with the wealthy and generous Lady Os- 
 bourne ; she insisted on her dear girl's accepting 
 it ; and promised to send her own carriage ; with 
 a new bonnet and pelisse, gifts from Mr. Drake, 
 as both were equally anxious she should be 
 conducted to her new friend in a proper manner, 
 and appear to the best advantage. To all this, 
 were added various hints of the sort of manner, 
 &c. likely to please this important lady. Na- 
 turally timid, Ellen felt the greatest repugnance 
 to following this advice ; but the wish of pleasing 
 Mrs. Hamilton, and her anxious desire to escape 
 for a time from home, overcame her scruples ; 
 and as Mrs. Anderson, too disinterested to op- 
 pose any thing that seemed ever so remotely to 
 their advantage, made no objection, though she 
 foresaw it would lead to still farther estrange- 
 ment, nothing remained but to accept and pre- 
 pare for the gracious invitation. 
 
 Ellen went to Stoke for a fortnight, and pre- 
 cisely at its end she returned : but how ? loaded 
 with presents, and half broken-hearted, at 
 leaving the delightful, the affectionate, Lady 
 Osbourne ; who previously prejudiced in her 
 favour, and^charmed by her person and manners, 
 reproaching herself with former neglect; and 
 without any person on whom to bestow a large 
 fund of unappropriated kindness, had made the 
 amusement of her young guest her sole and un- 
 divided study ; for even her husband, Sir Wil- 
 liam, was absent. While Ellen, unaccustomed to
 
 112 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the opulence and plenty that reigned around her, 
 to the assiduity with which she was waited on, to 
 the important consideration with which even 
 her attire was dwelt upon, with the natural 
 warmth and inconsideration of her age, felt 
 that all former friends had been cool or indif- 
 ferent ; all former abodes poor and narrow ; rill 
 time lost till her happy introduction to Stoke 
 Park : could she ever do enough to show her 
 gratitude for such undeserved kindness ? Never ; 
 she only regretted her power was so limited. 
 
 It had been the anxious endeavour of Mrs. 
 Mordaunt, to prepare the minds of her chil- 
 dren for unkindness and neglect ; their danger* 
 and temptations were, on the contrary, to arise 
 from flattery and injudicious indulgence. When 
 Ellen returned to Woodbridge, all seemed 
 changed there ; the regular habits and wise ad- 
 monitions of her really maternal friend, appeared 
 dullness and restraint; the house looked small, 
 and not half furnished; Mordaunt was quite 
 tiresome with his foolish jokes ; while the other 
 young men who visited in the family, some of 
 whom she had before thought tolerable, now ap- 
 peared awkward and ill-bred; and the finery, 
 in which she had been told she looked so lovely, 
 lay useless in her drawers^ Mrs. Anderson saw, 
 with regret, her ill-disguised ennui; and per- 
 ceived, also, that she lived in the Hope of an- 
 other invitation, nor was this long delayed. 
 Lady Osbourne felt dull without her favourite.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. US 
 
 whom she longed to introduce to Sir William ; 
 and he, sometimes rather annoyed by her super- 
 abundant spirits and activity, was well pleased 
 that she should have with her a person likely 
 to find occupation for both. The desired 
 mandate of recall was accordingly issued in their 
 united names, couched in the most polite terms, 
 and hoping she would be able to remain with 
 them till the return of the family to their town 
 residence, in January. 
 
 Meanwhile, Clara spoke not of coming home, 
 to supply her sister's place ; every body seemed 
 to consider her one of the household ; and her 
 former dislike of Almeria was converted into 
 violent friendship : they shared equally, all the 
 amusement, their situation afforded; dressed 
 alike, although their incomes were so unequal ; 
 by which Clara was led to expend more than 
 her allowance, although Mr. Drake loaded her 
 with presents and ornaments ; and this circum- 
 stance acted as an additional inducement to re- 
 main where she did not pay for her board. No 
 one annoyed either of them by discoursing on 
 the subject of religion ; but as they associated 
 only with those who looked up to Mr. Drake 
 as their oracle, attended only the place of wor- 
 ship at which he disseminated his peculiar doc- 
 trines, no wonder they gradually, and almost 
 imperceptibly imbibed his opinions, and forgot 
 their own; particularly, as his manners were 
 remarkably attaching, his attention and kind- 
 ness towards them unbounded.
 
 114 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Miss Campbell, who was still his frequent 
 visitor, materially, and in this case judiciously, 
 aided his views, by working herself completely 
 into the unsuspecting Clara's confidence.
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 
 
 ELLEN was warmly welcomed at Stoke Park, 
 where she found, besides the family, several 
 visitors staying in the house, to whom she was 
 introduced with much distinction. Sir William 
 Osbourne was a sensible, well-bred man, who 
 had secured his ample fortune by mercantile 
 concerns, and now thought only of enjoying it. 
 He had seen much of the world, and the gentle 
 manners and unaffected modesty of Ellen soon 
 rendered her a favourite with him. The other 
 guests were a Sir Robert and Lady Williams, 
 and their son, come for the shooting season; 
 Miss Trelawny the daughter of a neighbouring 
 gentleman, an agreeable, accomplished, and 
 amiable girl, with whom Ellen formed a friend- 
 ship, that lasted all their lives; and Mr. Osbourne, 
 the nephew of Sir William, and his reputed heir. 
 Sir Robert Williams was an old friend and city 
 connection of the Osbournes, a wealthy, good- 
 tempered, purse-proud alderman. His wife 
 a kind hearted, but not very polished lady. The 
 son, who had now succeeded to the business, 
 was said to be looking out for a wife; and as he 
 was tolerably pleasant, and very good-looking*
 
 116 THE SCHOOL FOU SISTERS. 
 
 and as money could not be supposed to be any 
 object to him, Lady Osbourne resolved he should 
 fall in love with her protegee, and as he was cer- 
 tainly disposed to pay her attention, the chances 
 seemed favourable. 
 
 Lady Williams, whose particular darling he 
 was, and who had taken a great fancy to Ellen, 
 resolved she should be Arthur's wife; while 
 Ellen, flattered by all elated dazzled by the 
 bright, though indistinct visions of the future 
 presented to her imagination, surrendered her- 
 self wholly to the enjoyment of the present, re- 
 turning with warmth and interest, the universal 
 love and good will she thought she inspired in 
 those around her. 
 
 Time, thus spent, passed rapidly. The 
 shooting-season was over ; the visitors depart- 
 ed, not, however, without pressing invitations 
 to Ellen; and Christmas approached, without 
 her discovering, that even weather could be 
 unpleasant at Stoke Park. Christmas was, 
 in this mansion, simply the season of plum- 
 pudding and good cheer, distributed, however, 
 liberally among the adjoining poor, as well as 
 enjoyed by the family themselves. 
 
 The religious light in which Ellen had for- 
 merly seen it welcomed was unknown. Sir 
 William and Lady Osbourne were, indeed, 
 strangers to religion ; not hostile to, but entirely 
 ignorant of it. Sir William had accustomed him- 
 self to consider Sunday, and other days set apart 
 by the church as holidays from serious business,
 
 THE SCHOOL FOB SISTERS. 117 
 
 properly to be spent in pleasure ; but, if this 
 were unattainable, seasons during which it was 
 expedient to write letters, settle accounts, put pa- 
 pers in order, or give such directions to servants 
 as might, possibly, save half an hour on the 
 next day. Yet, as with all these helps time still 
 hung heavy, he endeavoured so to arrange, as 
 that some necessary journey might occupy a 
 part of it. 
 
 Lady Osbourne, on the contrary, thought it 
 quite proper you should be seen once in the day 
 at your parish church, particularly in the coun- 
 try : therefore on fine days she always ordered 
 her carriage, and, followed by her powdered 
 footman carrying her handsome prayer book, 
 walked up the aisle of Stoke church, to the great 
 admiration of her neighbours. She always, in- 
 deed, rose late, and retired to rest unusually 
 early, on account of a previous bad night : and 
 when, on Saturday evening, proposing one addi- 
 tional rubber, was observed to be particularly 
 anxious the next day should be fine, because 
 otherwise, "it was such a disappointment to 
 the common people." 
 
 When this unhappily did, however, happen, 
 her Ladyship usually took the opportunity of 
 putting her trinkets to rights trying on her 
 new dresses, and planning future parties; all 
 which, with the newspapers and reviews, for 
 she would not, for the world, have touched a 
 novel, at last " got through " the day. If com- 
 pany were staying in the house, indeed, it would
 
 118 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 sometimes happen that the gentlemen recurred 
 to the billiard-room, and the ladies to the piano- 
 forte ; but then, the former were not allowed to 
 bet, and the latter always began, at least, with 
 sacred music. Yet Lady Osbourne possessed a 
 truly kind and feeling heart, and had expe- 
 rienced the insufficiency of all things here below 
 to satisfy the cravings of an immortal spirit : 
 but she had been the only child of doating pa- 
 rents, blest with health, and wealth, and beauty, 
 and no one had whispered that there was, beside 
 all these, " the pearl of great price," to be dili- 
 gently sought for and acquired, or all would be 
 found wanting ! 
 
 Did Ellen Mordaunt escape the powerful in- 
 fluence of bad example ? It is to be feared she 
 did not. The church was distant, which was a 
 sufficient excuse for going only once ; and the 
 extreme anxiety of Lady Osbourne for her health, 
 rendered her ladyship so apprehensive that it 
 might be wet, or was damp, that this once had 
 many interruptions; beside, that, the minister 
 was very different from her dear Doctor Stan- 
 hope. Late hours were easily fallen into, where 
 there were none to reprove them, and these 
 alone are a sure preliminary to neglecting, or 
 hurrying over, accustomed prayers; staying the 
 sacrament was unknown at Stoke, and Ellen 
 feared it might appear a sort of reproach, should 
 she propose to remain alone; self-examination 
 was neglected, from an inward assurance that it 
 would bring self-reproach ; and as to reading
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 119 
 
 the Scriptures daily, either she could not find 
 time, or, if she did, her attention was distracted; 
 but all this should be amended when she re- 
 turned to Woodbridge, a prospect which always 
 made her melancholy, particularly as the con- 
 versation of her new associates had given her a 
 great desire to partake in the fashionable amuse- 
 ments of London. What then was her delight, 
 when Lady Osbourne, declaring she could enjoy 
 nothing without her sweet Ellen, proposed, that 
 on their removing from Stoke, Ellen, instead of 
 going home, should join her sister at Elm- 
 house for a fortnight, and, afterwards, come 
 to her in Harley-street, for the season. The 
 pleasure afforded, by this kind and acceptable 
 proposal, had its usual drawback in the com- 
 punction Ellen felt in thus prolonging her ab- 
 sence from Mrs. Anderson ; but as that lady 
 never urged her return, though affectionately 
 anxious to hear of her welfare, she soon satis- 
 fied herself, (still ignorant of the value of a really 
 disinterested friend,) that her loss was not much 
 felt at Woodbridge, and that it would be the 
 height of ingratitude to refuse to Lady Osbourne 
 what she so evidently wished. 
 
 Ellen found Clara in high health and spirits, 
 at Elm-house, where she was, indeed, the life 
 of the party, and the darling of the old gentle- 
 man ; who was, however, cunning enough to 
 make his frequent presents to her, when no one 
 was near ; a lesson of caution not thrown away 
 on Clara. Among the frequent visitors at the
 
 
 120 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 house, was a Mr. Thomas Russell, a middle- 
 aged man, of unprepossessing exterior, in part- 
 nership with his brother in a profitable mer- 
 cantile concern ; who living, himself, at a very 
 small expence, allowed the surplus of his income 
 to pass through the hands of his spiritual guide, 
 Mr. Drake : he was a person of weak nerves 
 and melancholy temperament ; much looked up 
 to, on account of his consequence in the con- 
 nexion, by all except the playful Clara, who, from 
 the first moment of their meeting, had seized 
 upon his awkward shy manners, and singular 
 appearance, as the constant subject of her 
 raillery. As he was, really, a very good-tem- 
 pered, as well as kind-hearted man, he bore 
 all with unalterable patience, till Ellen wondered 
 how Clara could persist ; she was, however, en- 
 couraged by Almeria, who liked to be amused 
 by the wit of others without caring who suffered 
 from it ; indeed, she protested that little Tommy 
 liked to be so distinguished ; and Ellen thought 
 he did seem flattered by the notice of her pretty, 
 though wild sister. 
 
 The stated fortnight having at length expired, 
 Ellen returned with urtdiminished pleasure to 
 her dear Lady Osbourne, who now prepared 
 for her regular spring campaign. All public 
 places were alike new to her young guest, 
 who, when accompanying her, or the friendly 
 Lady Williams, to the opera or play-house, af- 
 forded them nearly as much amusement, by her 
 artless animated expressions of pleasure and
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 121 
 
 astonishment, as she herself derived from the 
 novelty and splendour of all around her ; height- 
 ened as this gratification was, by the consider- 
 ation that she owed all that she enjoyed to their 
 kindness. Lady \Villiams, likewise, gave an 
 elegant ball, at which Mr. Williams danced 
 early in the evening with Ellen, to whom he 
 paid such attention as raised an immediate re- 
 port that he was paying his addresses to her; a 
 belief that added greatly to her consequence: 
 ^all, indeed, was smooth and flowery, and it was 
 no wonder that thus admired, thus sought, Ellen 
 forgot her real self and station. Miss Har- 
 court, whom she could now meet without re- 
 straint or difficulty, assisted to reconcile her to 
 her present course of life ; and she was only 
 aroused from it, towards the end of the season, 
 by intelligence that Mordaunt Anderson was 
 dangerously ill of a fever. Anxious to assist his 
 mother, and lessen her fatigues, Ellen resolved 
 to return home immediately ; but, unluckily, 
 Lady Osbourne happened to be indisposed, and 
 she expressed such reluctance to being left, 
 that Ellen felt herself obliged to promise not to 
 quit the house till she was better; and now, 
 , indeed, the scene changed. 
 
 Her ladyship's illness was not of any conse- 
 quence ; but she had enjoyed unbroken health, 
 and the confinement and ennui attendant on 
 a sick room were insupportable to her, and 
 rendered her so irritable and difficult to please, 
 that Ellen had abundant opportunity to com-
 
 122 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 pare the sufferings of a Christian with those of 
 a woman of the world. How did her dear mamma 
 and Mrs. Anderson rise in the comparison? 
 Not that Lady Osbourne lost her accustomed 
 hold on her affections, but that she now first 
 perceived how miserably deficient her mind was 
 in resources. Ellen trembled for her when old 
 age or confirmed ill health should approach; 
 and all this, thought she, is because she did not 
 cultivate religion in her youth ; because she had, 
 perhaps, no kind friend to instil into her soul the 
 important consideration of the end for which she 
 was created. These reflections caused] a pang 
 which struck to her heart. How had she been 
 living without God in the world ! she, who 
 had been blessed with pious parents ! Humbling 
 herself before the throne of her Almighty Fa- 
 ther, she confessed her past ingratitude; and 
 resolved, with his gracious assistance, not only to 
 be more mindful of the one thing needful her- 
 self, but to endeavour to prove her real sense 
 of Lady Osbourne's kindness, by trying to lead 
 her likewise to the true and only source of peace 
 and consolation. 
 
 These repentant resolutions were strengthened 
 by the intelligence that Mordaunt Anderson 
 was dead ; and that his mother, though she 
 " sorrowed not as one without hope," yet wished 
 to regain more composure before she met again 
 her dear Ellen. Mordaunt was scarcely older 
 than herself, and had always enjoyed good 
 health : she had loved him as an only brother :
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 123 
 
 beside her natural grief at his loss, the awful 
 warning could not be disregarded ; and when, 
 on Lady Osbourne's recovery, they again joined 
 the circles of the gay and dissipated, Ellen found 
 the charm already broken, and nought but 
 emptiness remaining. For the first time since 
 her arrival in London, she sighed for the ra- 
 tional pursuits of the country, and received with 
 real delight the long-desired permission to re- 
 turn to Woodbridge. 
 
 Mrs. Anderson had long been in declining 
 health, and the loss of her son had given a 
 shock to her constitution she felt she could not 
 long survive. As she did not, however, put a 
 half trust in Providence, but relied with firm 
 faith and confidence on being re-united in hea- 
 ven to all she had lost on earth, she was still 
 composed and cheerful ; and Ellen contrasted 
 her quiet and resigned grief with the violent sor- 
 row shewn by Lady Osbourne on some trifling 
 disappointment. She soon perceived that this 
 would be her last return home; and, as is 
 generally the case, she felt as if she had never 
 known the value of her friend till now that she 
 was about to lose her. Mrs. Anderson had 
 long apprehended bad effects from Ellen's pre- 
 sent course of life, and now observed with plea- 
 sure that the illusion was dissolved. Perceiving 
 that her own end was approaching, she rejoiced 
 that the child of her love had found another 
 home, although that home was not exactly 
 what she could have wished ; for she thought, 
 G 2
 
 124 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 justly, that the uncertain prospect of pecuniary 
 advantage at some distant period was no com- 
 pensation for taking a girl tolerably provided 
 for out of her own class in society, as an ap- 
 pendage to one in a higher. " Remember, my 
 dear Ellen," said she, " youth and novelty, and 
 'even beauty, soon lose their attractions, and you 
 must not expect to continue the idol you have 
 been ; it will be fortunate if you do not fall into 
 neglect equally undeserved. I will not revert 
 to any thing that has passed, however I may 
 regret it; but only hope you may find among 
 your present admirers one worthy man, dis- 
 interested enough to take as his wife one who 
 has neither beauty, birth, nor fortune, to recom- 
 mend her ; as this, however, is, in the present 
 state of society, doubtful, resume your former 
 occupations, improve your mind, cultivate the 
 regard of your acquaintance, above all, fix your 
 affections as much as possible on a future state, 
 and, thus, you will be respectable and happy, 
 even though single. Prepare, likewise, to bear 
 with the infirmities of Sir William and Lady 
 Osbourne, for as they grow older and more 
 accustomed to your society, they will appear 
 less amiable in your eyes. Your natural good 
 sense and early habits enable me to leave you to 
 yourself without much apprehension; but con- 
 cerning your dear sister, I feel less assured ; and 
 I wish you to inform her, that I hope to see her 
 here once more." 
 
 Ellen immediately wrote to Clara, to this
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 125 
 
 effect j but that thoughtless girl was absent from 
 home, on a tour with Mrs. Hamilton, who per- 
 suaded her it would be time enough to visit 
 Mrs. Anderson when they returned ; and as this 
 period was unexpectedly delayed, it was several 
 weeks before she came, and when she did, it 
 was evident how effectually, though cautiously, 
 her mind had been worked upon. She met her 
 sister coolly, shunned her former acquaint- 
 ance, insensible even to the approaching mar- 
 riage of Julia with a gay officer in the Light 
 Dragoons, refused to enter the church, and 
 was evidently so puffed up with the idea of her 
 own spiritual light and their darkness, that Mrs* 
 Anderson perceived it would be vain in her 
 present weak state to attempt to moderate her 
 opinions : but, as she considered her far more 
 to be pitied than blamed, she prayed and hoped 
 that time and experience would convince her 
 how entirely she mistook the humble spirit of 
 the religion she professed. Ellen thought much 
 of Mordaunt, now that the return of her sister 
 brought back so forcibly to her mind the in- 
 cessant mirth and frolic with which they had 
 enlivened every scene. But though Mordaunt 
 had been ever gay, he was, both from habit and 
 inclination, devout; and this circumstance was, 
 both to his mother and sister, the most cheering 
 source of consolation : but Mrs. Anderson, who 
 knew we might dwell on the thoughts of death 
 till unfitted to bear our own parts well in active 
 life, checked Ellen's inclination to converse for 
 G 3
 
 126 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 ever on the subject of his last words, looks, and 
 conduct ; as well as her too frequent visits to 
 the place where all remaining of him had been 
 deposited. 
 
 " We should endeavour," said she, " to fix 
 our minds, not on the circumstances of death, 
 as they affect our perishable bodies, but rather 
 as they concern our precious and immortal soul. 
 We may wander in church-yards, and muse on 
 our approaching dissolution, without the least 
 approach to real religious feeling, though 
 humbled and mortified by a prospect so revolt- 
 ing to the pride of man. Let your meditations 
 rather fix themselves on the glorious view of an 
 immortality of youth, health, beauty, and happi- 
 ness, offered to us in the Gospel. And oh ! my 
 dear child, never forget the conditions on which 
 alone this rich inheritance can be obtained, 
 the immeasurable mercy of the great Redeemer, 
 who died to obtain it for us, nor the needful 
 aid of that Holy Spirit, which only can incline 
 our rebellious hearts to accept the indescribable 
 bliss of heaven. Animated by such views, such 
 hopes, such encouragements, can we suffer our 
 thoughts to grovel among worms, forgetful of 
 that spirit of cheerfulness and gratitude due 
 both to our Creator, our fellow-mortals, and 
 ourselves ?" 
 
 " Perhaps," said Ellen", " that wise and happy 
 medium between thoughtfulness and gloom that 
 you enforce and practise, may be attainable, 
 even comparatively easy, to those who are en-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 127 
 
 abled to choose their associates, and fix their mode 
 of life. I must ever regret, that far from this being 
 the case, my lot is cast among society, most of 
 who mare neither improving nor agreeable ; 
 my time likely to be frittered away between the 
 sameness and frivolity of what is called London 
 gaiety, and the idleness and ennui of fashionable 
 watering-places; in both of which the oppor- 
 tunities of being useful to others is rarely met 
 with, while there is no stimulus to moral or re- 
 ligious exertion." 
 
 " You are quite mistaken, my dear," replied 
 her friend : " God, who fixes the bounds of our 
 habitations, has so ordered all things, that it is 
 our own fault if the great business of life ever 
 stands still. Retirement, although desirable on 
 most accounts, has its peculiar dangers. We 
 are there apt to over-estimate our own strength, 
 our own importance, as well as to fall into 
 habits of indolence and self-indulgence. * It is 
 not in the study of sublime speculations, nor 
 amidst the pompous scenery of an imaginary 
 field of action, that the heart grows better, or 
 the temper more correct. It is in the daily oc- 
 currences of common life, with its mixture of 
 folly and impertinence, that the proper exercise 
 of virtue lies.' It is here that the temptations to 
 vanity, selfishness, and discontent, arise. There 
 are opportunities for secret conflict with these 
 in our gayest and most trifling hours." 
 
 Thus did this pious and excellent woman en- 
 deavour to enlighten with her wisdom, and arm 
 o 4
 
 128 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 with her experience, her who felt as if sh'; were 
 about to become a second time an orphan ; but 
 as she felt her end approaching, she insisted on 
 the return of both her daughters to their friends. 
 She was aware that the impression made on 
 our minds by a death we witness is much 
 deeper than one we only hear of; and she 
 wished to spare them every unnecessary pang. 
 Her sister, with an attached friend of her youth, 
 had promised to remain with her, and she was 
 beside surrounded by kind neighbours, who felt 
 real regret, not only at the prospect of losing 
 their respected friend, but likewise that Ellen 
 and Clara would no longer find a home among 
 them. John Egerton had attached himself to 
 Clara; but her extreme youth and volatility had 
 formerly prevented his declaring it, and now 
 her evident tendency to methodism made him 
 resolve to think of her no more. But a young 
 surgeon in the neighbourhood, who had always 
 admired Ellen, and who attended Mrs. Anderson 
 in this her last illness, by whom he was much 
 liked, offered himself to Ellen, for whom he 
 would have been a very suitable match. As, 
 however, he neither possessed distinguished ta- 
 lents nor considerable fortune, she instantly, 
 and not without some contempt, dismissed his 
 suit, not yet aware of her own very moderate 
 pretensions.
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LADY OSBOURNE and Mrs. Hamilton now con- 
 sidered the two sisters as their own property; 
 and neither threats nor promises were spared till 
 Clara formally joined the connection of Mr. 
 Drake, and renounced her former worldly ac- 
 quaintance, from whom she had, indeed, been 
 long weaned. Ellen thought it her duty to 
 make some opposition to this measure, which, as 
 might be expected, had no other effect than to 
 cause coolness and estrangement between them, 
 and to lessen her intimacy at Elm- House. Miss 
 Cleveland, indeed, of a jealous disposition, had 
 always hated Ellen, and rested not till she had 
 herself engrossed the affections of her friend, 
 with whom it is needless to say she entirely coin- 
 cided in her opinions. Shut out from the amuse- 
 ments and society adapted to her age and station 
 in life, the company of Clara had become neces- 
 sary to the comfort of her existence; and she 
 loved her as well as a selfish spoilt child can 
 love any one but herself. 
 
 Meantime, the apparent devotion of Mr. 
 
 Williams to Ellen vanished into thin air; too 
 
 indolent and indifferent to wish to marry at all, 
 
 yet, liking Ellen rather better than the generality 
 
 G 5
 
 130 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 of girls, he paid to her those little attentions a 
 single man is expected to perform towards some 
 one ; but though the report still continued, and 
 although his mother believed what she wished, 
 Ellen saw, and saw without a shadow of regret, 
 that he cared not for her. 
 
 About this time she received a letter from 
 Caroline, informing her that as the appointed 
 year had elapsed, and as Edward was now to- 
 lerably well, she had been persuaded to fix a 
 time for their marriage. " He does not pretend," 
 added she, " to feel for me that engrossing love 
 he once experienced for you ; but I prefer his 
 esteem and affection to that violent and com- 
 monly short-lived passion, and only hope my 
 unwearied care and tenderness may render his 
 future life as happy as he deserves to be : he 
 will never entirely regain his health; but my 
 father proposes he should at some future time 
 take orders and become his curate, since, al- 
 though his fortune is equal to our wishes, an 
 idle useless life would be unpleasant to his feel- 
 ings." She concluded by hoping to see her 
 friend, *' since Edward could now meet her 
 without uneasiness." 
 
 Ellen rejoiced sincerely in the happy pro- 
 spects of this her beloved friend ; perhaps, she 
 felt some shade of regret that they were not her 
 own ; but she checked the approach to discontent, 
 and hastened to communicate the intelligence 
 to Lady Osbourne, who, aware of all that had 
 passed, sensible how much the girls must wish
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 131 
 
 to meet, though delicacy might prevent Ellen 
 from visiting Devonshire, proposed that Miss 
 Stanhope should be invited to pass some time 
 with them in London, while yet her own mis- 
 tress. 
 
 Ellen, whose delight and gratitude were alike 
 unbounded, instantly wrote to Caroline such 
 an invitation as few could have resisted, least of 
 all, her she addressed. Caroline consented, 
 though with inconvenience on account of the 
 distance and her value at home, to come for a 
 fortnight. Sir John Osbourne was all kind- 
 ness ; his lady, fascination itself; and Caroline, 
 who had never before seen London, enchanted 
 by all she beheld, warmly congratulated Ellen 
 on the happiness she must enjoy in such a fa- 
 mily. Ellen sighed; for she had already dis- 
 covered that various drawbacks to her comfort 
 existed in the splendid mansion where she now 
 was known to be at home : the principal of 
 these arose from the suspicious light in which 
 she was viewed by various persons visiting at 
 the house. Lady Osbourne was connected, 
 through a former husband, with several fami- 
 lies of rank. These were by no means pleased 
 at her choosing for her favourite an ob- 
 scure young girl, who might at some future 
 period interfere with their plans; they, there- 
 fore, took no pains to conceal then" contempt 
 and dislike; and as Lady Osbourne, one of 
 whose foibles was a rage for fashion and title, 
 considered herself honoured by their notice, now 
 G 6
 
 132 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 that she had stooped to an inferior, though far 
 more wealthy, union, she did not observe or 
 resent such conduct in them, as she would in 
 any other people ; but as Ellen never com- 
 plained of it, and Caroline was not observing, 
 she departed with her own bright hopes in- 
 creased, by the conviction that her friend was 
 appreciated and beloved as she deserved. The 
 silent example of Ellen had imperceptibly 
 wrought some improvement in the habits of the 
 family; and she enjoyed the heartfelt satisfac- 
 tion of observing that the books she purposely 
 left about were sometimes taken up both by Sir 
 William and his lady, while the Sabbath was 
 more decently observed. The constant com- 
 mendation bestowed by Ellen, on all who were 
 religious, with her interesting accounts of the 
 last days of her mother and Mrs. Anderson, had, 
 indeed, excited in the mind of Lady Osbourne 
 such a desire to be so herself, that she actually 
 resolved to begin and read the Bible through ; 
 but Ellen saw, with regret, that she considered 
 this exertion a meritorious performance, as well 
 as a task ,- and that she relaxed not in any of 
 the pomps and vanities of the world. On the 
 contrary, her entertainments continued to vie 
 with those of the extravagant and the dissipated 
 of her acquaintance ; her time to be passed in one 
 eternal round of distraction, if not amusement j 
 and her naturally sweet temper to be ruffled by 
 the mortification and fatigue which must ever 
 attend a way of life dependant so much on
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 133 
 
 others. Ellen could only hope and pray she 
 might be enlightened to perceive its vanity and 
 littleness, and led to discover " the more ex- 
 cellent way" that leadeth to life eternal. Ellen 
 was no longer intimate at Elm-House ; but she 
 learned, through a third person, that Mr. Thomas 
 Russell continued as much there as ever ; that 
 his attachment to Clara was no longer doubted, 
 and that Mr. Drake had taken violent umbrage 
 at it for substantial reasons of his own. Ellen, 
 who considered him, upon the whole, a respect- 
 able and worthy man, though rather weak, 
 wished success to his suit, thinking Clara among 
 her numerous lovers might choose worse; as 
 they were mostly too vulgar and fanatical to be 
 at all suitable. Mrs. Hamilton, indeed, took 
 great pains to keep up her young friend's con- 
 sequence, and awe her admirers to humble dis- 
 tance ; partly because it did not suit her views 
 that Clara should marry before her own daughter. 
 Miss Almeria, with all her pride and haughti- 
 ness, had fancied herself in love, ever since she 
 was twelve years old ; and Clara had been her 
 confidant so often as to have lost all interest in 
 her tender sufferings. The present favourite 
 was superior to all his predecessors ; and as she 
 was now more than sixteen, there seemed a 
 tolerable chance for his success, although his 
 situation in life was too decidedly inferior to her 
 own to allow him to address her openly: she 
 was therefore pleased that Clara should have 
 some one to take up her attention, in order that
 
 134 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 she might be the better enabled to carry on her 
 clandestine intercourse with the favoured youth. 
 Never having been instructed in one plain prac- 
 tical duty, all being left to the operation of 
 grace, it was no wonder, considering how she 
 had been indulged, that this young lady was at 
 once forward and reserved ; rebellious and cun- 
 ning; selfish and romantic; jealous and cold- 
 hearted. Notwithstanding her great abilities and 
 obstinate self-will, she was easily managed, and 
 Clara had obtained over her an influence, of 
 which Mrs. Hamilton availed herself, after she 
 had, with so much difficulty and trouble, gained 
 her young protegee to her opinions. Almeria 
 was, indeed, a remarkable instance of the power 
 of early habit : naturally inclined to gaiety, yet 
 never, when in after years she possessed the 
 power, having resolution to begin to enter into it. 
 Ellen Mordaunt was nineteen, when the bro- 
 ther of her friend, Miss Trelawny, returned home 
 from foreign service. Frederic was the youngest 
 of the three sons of Sir Hylton Trelawny, and 
 had entered early in life into the army : by pur- 
 chase he had attained the rank of captain ; but 
 the trade of war was altogether irksome to his 
 indolent, refined, and rather melancholy disposi- 
 tion; it had, however, been his original choice, and 
 he remained in the service, because he had now 
 no other resource, being entirely dependant on 
 his father. He was extremely handsome, ac- 
 complished, and well bred, and, besides, what 
 the ladies universally called interesting. Supe-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 135 
 
 rior to, or tired of the allurements of fashionable 
 life, he was almost always to be found with his 
 amiable and rational sister, to whom he was 
 affectionately attached; and this circumstance 
 gave him frequent opportunities of meeting 
 Ellen, with whom he was extremely pleased, 
 even at first sight ; while she, to whom such a 
 companion was a treat, could not long remain 
 insensible to his superiority his attentions. 
 Obliged, however, to appear in the parties of 
 Lady Osbourne, who enjoyed no amusement 
 ut which she was not present, her influence 
 drew into the charmed circle Frederic himself, 
 although his gravity and nonchalance prevented 
 him from becoming a favourite there. But Ellen 
 admired him the more for his peculiarities ; and 
 the very circumstance of his being present, even 
 where the crowd prevented more than a glance 
 from his expressive eyes reaching her, rescued 
 the glittering scene from insipidity or disgust. 
 Barbara Harcourt, who, at her first introduction 
 to the Captain, had declared he and her friend 
 were kindred minds, afforded to their meetings 
 
 O 
 
 every facility in her power ; and, at her little 
 quiet parties, they both passed many delightful 
 hours. On these occasions Mr. Osbourne, who 
 had lately come to reside entirely with his uncle, 
 was her escort ; and, although this gentleman of 
 retired habits, and few words, said little on the 
 subject, the punctuality with which he attended 
 Ellen, and the evident reluctance with which he 
 departed, proved that somewhere a powerful at-
 
 136 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 traction existed also for him : hitherto he had not 
 sufficiently interested Ellen to make her anxious 
 to discover with whom it originated. She had, 
 however, long observed an alteration in Barbara, 
 who, after running, with peculiar avidity, the ca- 
 reer of gaietyfor two seasons, and refusing several 
 excellent offers, had begun to rail at dissipation, 
 and to be subject to occasional low spirits. Her 
 fond father, whose love had been increased by 
 the admiration she excited, and the grace and 
 gaiety which accompanied all she did, reckoned 
 confidently on her forming a brilliant connection. 
 He had sanctioned her former refusals, because 
 they satisfied not his ambition; and now, trem- 
 bling for her hitherto unfailing health, he willingly 
 agreed to and recommended a plan of temporary 
 and comparative quiet. The observant eye of 
 friendship soon detected, that the presence of Mr. 
 Osbourne was a never-failing cordial and restor- 
 ative to Miss Harcourt ; and though she exceed- 
 ingly wondered at that young lady's taste, since 
 no two persons could be more opposite to each 
 other in every respect, yet as he was considered a 
 very steady and amiable young man, and the 
 attachment was evidently mutual, she saw no- 
 thing to blame in the affair, and quietly left it to 
 take its own course, partly engrossed by some 
 anxious thoughts for herself. As her partiality 
 towards Frederic increased, she became less 
 ready to talk of him in the family ; and as Lady 
 Osbourne had imbibed against himoneof themost 
 violent of her prejudices, tliinking him at once
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 137 
 
 proud, pedantic, and dull, he was seldom invited to 
 any but her large parties, so that, not seeing them 
 together, her ladyship had no idea of their grow- 
 ing attachment. Anxious at all times to please 
 and pay attention to Ellen's friends, she had se- 
 veral times invited Miss Harcourt to Stoke, who 
 had been hitherto prevented by various circum- 
 stances ; but this year she told Ellen, she was 
 persuaded that pure air would be of more service 
 to her any than other ; and Lady Osbourne, with 
 whom she was, from her lively nature, a parti- 
 cular favourite, prevailed on her father to spare 
 her to them for some weeks. 
 
 This circumstance, united to the knowledge 
 that Frederic and his sister would be at Oak- 
 wood Hall, the country-house of their father, 
 enabled the little party of friends to view the 
 approaching close of the London season with 
 less regret than they had anticipated; and as 
 Mr. Osbourne always came down to them at 
 Stoke every Saturday, and sometimes remained 
 there part of the week, the little affairs of the 
 heart seemed likely to go on as well among the 
 congenial woods and groves of the country, as 
 they had done under the friendly shelter of in- 
 cessant engagements in a town life. 
 
 Sir William Osbourne was by no means 
 pleased when he understood Miss Harcourt was 
 to form one of his family party. Apparently 
 unobserving, nothing escaped his notice; and 
 as he was of opinion that young women should 
 be always in the shade, her dashing attire, un-
 
 138 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 embarrassed manners, and ready wit, were pe- 
 culiarly disagreeable ; indeed, although he al- 
 ways behaved towards her with friendly polite- 
 ness, and tolerated her company as an amusing 
 London visitor, he considered her, in reality, 
 just what women should not be, extravagant, 
 independent, and flippant. He feared much 
 of her society would be injurious to Ellen ; be- 
 side, that when engrossed by a favourite com- 
 panion, she had, of course, less time to devote 
 to him. 
 
 That his nephew, Mr. Osbourne, should pre- 
 sume to dispose of his affections till his uncle 
 gave permission, fortunately never occurred to 
 him as a possibility, and he was even now pre- 
 paring in his own mind what he considered a 
 wise and liberal scheme of happiness for that 
 very nephew, in which his own comfort had, as 
 usual, been amply consulted. Sir William Os- 
 bourne was the head of his family, and considered 
 by them an oracle. He had educated Charles, 
 so as to be useful to himself; and had only, very 
 lately, admitted him on terms of equality into 
 his household. 
 
 The eldest son of a numerous family, taught 
 from his very childhood to consider offending 
 his rich uncle the greatest possible misfortune, 
 he had lived in constant fear and restraint, a 
 patient drudge to business, unconscious of the 
 powers of his own mind, till the smiles of Bar- 
 bara shone upon his fate ; and love inspired him 
 with the hope of pleasing her who had shot the
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 139 
 
 first beams of happiness into his soul. Still his 
 habitual fear of Sir William remained; and as 
 Miss Harcourt was convinced her father would 
 never give his consent to her marrying a depend- 
 ent man in trade, both resolved to nurse their 
 affection for each other in private, trusting to 
 some uncertain something the future was to 
 produce. 
 
 What, then, was Mr. Osbourne's panic and 
 confusion, when his uncle, after a somewhat 
 pompous display of paternal regard, informed 
 him that since he must one day marry, and 
 since there were two ways of obtaining a fortune 
 in a wife, that in her, sometimes preferable to 
 that with her, he had fixed on Ellen Mordaunt 
 as his future helpmate; because, after much 
 close observation he was convinced she would 
 turn out a prudent, rational woman, beside be- 
 ing both pleasing and pretty enough for a wife. 
 Without waiting for the answer poor Charles 
 could not easily have furnished, he went on to 
 say that in the event of this marriage taking 
 place, he should immediately make him an al- 
 lowance befitting his future heir, though he ex- 
 pected they would enliven his old age by living 
 either with or near him. He recommended 
 Charles on all accounts to lose no time in gain- 
 ing the consent of Ellen to this advantageous 
 arrangement; and leaving his nephew to digest 
 this unexpected good fortune, went forth, high- 
 ly pleased with his own sagacity and contempt 
 of money, to communicate its results to Lady
 
 140 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERSi 
 
 Osbourne, who would, he imagined, be highly 
 gratified by such a proposal for her favourite. 
 But Lady Osbourne, by no means partial to 
 Charles, and reluctant to lose her dear com- 
 panion, received the intelligence coolly, and in- 
 sisted nothing should be done in a hurry. Her 
 dear Ellen would have time enough in the sum- 
 mer to find out whether she could like Mr. 
 Osbourne, and it would be soon enough to 
 think of any thing farther when they returned 
 to London. 
 
 When Barbara found how difficulties were 
 thickening round them, she only grew more 
 cautious : not in the least disheartened, she was 
 as gay as usual. She and Ellen were of course 
 always together, and Mr. Osbourne, if at home, 
 of course attended them. Mr. Frederic Tre- 
 lawny, who haunted the woods of Stoke, of 
 course fell in with and joined their walks ; or he 
 escorted his sister in her frequent walks to see 
 her friend. But this delightful intercourse was 
 not to continue long. Frederic knew he must 
 soon rejoin his regiment, and many were the 
 conferences held concerning their future plans. 
 Miss Trelawny, sincerely their friend, could 
 not hold out much hope of her father's consent 
 at present. She knew him partial to Ellen as 
 an acquaintance, but proud and ambitious for 
 himself and children. Frederic would have per- 
 suaded his beloved to wait some more convenient 
 season for applying to him, but Ellen positively 
 refused to continue their intercourse longer, un-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 14>1 
 
 known to his parents. Trusting, therefore, to 
 the tenderness he hoped his immediate depart- 
 ure on foreign service must create in a father's 
 heart, he avowed in their last interview his af- 
 fection for Ellen, entreating Sir Hylton so far 
 to sanction it, as to allow them to engage them- 
 selves to each other before parting, perhaps, for 
 ever. 
 
 But Frederic had miscalculated the feelings 
 of a man of the world. His father pretended to 
 consider him in jest, telling him he must think 
 of no other mistress than glory, and that he was 
 sure Miss Mordaunt was too sensible a girl to 
 think of a poor soldier, spoiled as she had been 
 for love and a cottage by Lady Osbourne. 
 
 His son would have persisted explained 
 but Sir Hylton positively refusing to hear an- 
 other word of his folly or madness, abruptly left 
 the room, telling him to prepare for immediately 
 rejoining his regiment. 
 
 Frederic went to Ellen ostensibly to take leave 
 of the family, but in reality to put into her 
 hands an earnest petition to accept his vows, re- 
 gardless of the mercenary and unfeeling conduct 
 of his father; but Ellen had too much pride as 
 well as too much principle to consent to this, 
 and they parted with assumed composure on her 
 side, repressed anger and sorrow on his. 
 
 Henrietta accompanied her brother to Lon- 
 don, in order that she might remain in his com- 
 pany as long as possible ; and when they had 
 left Oakwood, Stoke appeared melancholy and
 
 142 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 deserted to the eyes of Ellen. Barbara, whose 
 incessant gaiety completely charmed Lady Os- 
 bourne, seemed to Ellen for the first time over- 
 powering; but she checked her inclination to 
 give way to romantic and unavailing regret ; 
 allowed not herself the luxury of solitary ram- 
 bles, but devoted more than ever her time, and, 
 as far as she could command them, her thoughts 
 to the comfort and amusement of those around 
 her. She had, indeed, lost that general desire 
 to please (farther than, as St. Paul expresses it, 
 " to our neighbour's good, for edification, ") 
 with which most young people enter the world, 
 because she had found by experience that the 
 attempt was fruitless ; but not only the family, 
 but the servants and the neighbouring poor, had 
 reason to bless her gentle and pervading influ- 
 ence. 
 
 The gay illusions of early youth were already 
 dispelled, and she saw life in its true colours; 
 a scene of mingled good and evil, in which, if 
 it be not our own fault, the former greatly pre- 
 dominates; a world where we should endeavour 
 to make circumstances contribute to happiness, 
 instead of essential to it; where it is equally our 
 duty and our interest " to transmute indifferent 
 things into pleasing ones, and disagreeable 
 things into indifferent ones ; " a talent only to 
 be acquired by the habit of remembering that 
 we are in the hands of God, " bought with a 
 price, " having no business here, but to fill the 
 place, and act the part he has allotted us, as pre-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 14-3 
 
 paratory to a richer inheritance, in thankful re- 
 signation, and cheerful acceptance, confident 
 that like as a father loveth his own children so 
 doth he love us ; and so will he do for us, even 
 above what we can ask or think, if we will trust 
 in him. The irreligious only have a right to 
 be irritable and gloomy under the petty trials 
 and vexations that must always mix with the 
 most prosperous lot.
 
 144 
 
 'CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MEANTIME gloom and fanaticism were increas- 
 ing in the mind of the once lively Clara : her 
 spirits had arisen from constitutional vivacity, 
 rather than proceeded from the calm assurance of 
 Christian hope, and all her boasted confidence in 
 her present teachers saved her not from frequent 
 fits of despondence; indeed, she was always 
 struggling between opposite pursuits ; labouring 
 to unite the service of two masters, God and 
 the world. 
 
 She had insensibly become attached to Mr. 
 Russell ; but the fear of that dread laugh which 
 has appalled stronger minds than hers, united 
 to the apprehension of Mr. Drake's displeasure, 
 prevented her from absolutely encouraging his 
 addresses. Love had long struggled in the 
 heart of Mr. Russell against habitual reverence 
 for the opinions of his spiritual father, but it 
 had at last prevailed; and he only waited a fa- 
 vourable opportunity to press his suit, when 
 Clara, who had lately observed the frequent 
 and unaccountable absences of Miss Almeria, 
 all which she refused to explain, thought it her 
 duty to mention, in confidence, the circumstance
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 14-5 
 
 to Mrs. Hamilton, who, in great alarm, and 
 quite forgetful of her promise of secresy, imme- 
 diately sought her daughter and questioned her 
 on the subject. Almeria could not conceal the 
 violence of her displeasure against Clara; indeed 
 she protested she would live no longer with such 
 an artful mischief-maker: she denied that there 
 was any truth in her assertions, and declared 
 she only sought to gain credit in the eyes of her 
 dear mamma for vigilance. She then proceeded 
 to explain away what had appeared mysterious 
 in her manner, adding a large proportion of 
 coaxing and blandishment, till her fond and 
 credulous mother could scarcely refrain from 
 asking pardon of her child for such unjust sus- 
 picions. But Miss Almeria was all humility 
 and meekness : nay, she even promised, at her 
 mamma's request, to forgive, and not mention the 
 subject to Clara. But in her proud vindictive 
 disposition, the offence long rankled ; and Clara 
 soon perceived she had lost the love and confi- 
 dence of her for whom she had neglected her 
 kind sister. 
 
 A few weeks after this occurrence, Miss Cleve- 
 land complained of illness, and took to her bed. 
 Her mother was distracted the whole house 
 in confusion. As it was contrary to their doc- 
 trine to consider human aid of much service, 
 no medical man was called in; but confidence 
 placed in the prayers and skill of Mr. Drake. 
 Clara's penetration soon discovered the ailment 
 was imaginary, or assumed ; and this conviction 
 
 H
 
 1.46 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 rendering her incapable of shewing the sympathy 
 and attention expected, afforded the revengeful 
 Almeria another opportunity of lowering her in 
 the good opinion of Mrs. Hamilton. 
 
 After a time, the young lady condescended to 
 get better, and her recovery was immediately 
 puffed about as attributable to the prayers of the 
 faithful. As she no longer affected to disguise 
 her dislike to Clara, she passed much of her 
 time alone, or with her favourite maid Susan. 
 One morning that her bell had not been heard, 
 her mother entered her apartment, what was 
 her consternation to find it empty ? Her bed 
 had not been slept in, her clothes and trinkets 
 were gone, and Susan not to be found : all 
 conspired to prove her flight had been premedi- 
 tated, and that they had considerable advantage 
 in point of time ; nevertheless, immediate pur- 
 suit was ordered; and while awaiting its suc- 
 cess, Mrs. Hamilton turned her fury and despair 
 against poor Clara, whom she persisted in be- 
 lieving her daughter's confidante and accomplice. 
 \Vhen Clara timidly reminded her of the cau- 
 tion she had given some months before, Mrs. 
 Hamilton only changed her tone, and reproached 
 her for being so cruel as to recall what could 
 not now be helped. But Clara pitied the heart- 
 broken mother too much to resent her violence 
 and injustice; and as she did not doubt that 
 Mr. Onslow had been the companion of her 
 journey as well as Susan, she busied herself in 
 considering what plan they would be likely to
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 147 
 
 adopt. She knew the romantic Almeria consi- 
 dered a pilgrimage to Gretna-Green, a very 
 dashing exploit; and doubted not she would 
 completely govern and influence her lover : for- 
 tunately for her scheme, it was either so well 
 arranged, or the pursuers were so little expert 
 on such an occasion, that they were only over- 
 taken when it was too late ; and then the tender- 
 ness of the parent thought but of recalling them 
 to her love, and making the best of what could 
 not be helped; and, indeed, her daughter 
 might have done worse, considering how she was 
 situated. 
 
 Henry Onslow had been well educated, al- 
 though only the son of a respectable tradesman. 
 He was handsome, and of irreproachable charac- 
 ter; so exceedingly attached to the haughty 
 beauty, that to conform himself to her taste, and 
 fashion his opinions on her model, had been the 
 study of his life : the eldest of a numerous family, 
 he had not, indeed, any fortune ; and his young 
 bride, who wished to have a husband entirely 
 dependent on her and always at her side, chose 
 not that he should apply himself, as had always 
 been intended, to the study of the law, a cir- 
 cumstance he often afterwards regretted. 
 
 As Mrs. Onslow wanted several years of being 
 of age, she had not any positive right to more 
 than her allowance as a single woman, but as 
 her mother affected to approve the connexion, 
 the guardians were easily persuaded to pay to 
 her the whole interest of her fortune, on condi- 
 H 2
 
 148 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 tion it was settled on herself, so that they set 
 out in life in handsome style. 
 
 But Mr. Drake never forgave the duplicity 
 of his young inmate, whose conduct, as she had 
 been so much under his care, both disappointed 
 and disgraced him; and as Mr. Russell was 
 still incessantly at his house, from which he had 
 no means of banishing him, he lived in constant 
 dread of Clara's following her companion's ex- 
 ample, particularly as now that she was of no 
 material use to Mrs. Hamilton, but on the con- 
 trary, rather clashed with that lady in the fa- 
 vour of the great man, he perceived she was 
 treated with a degree of neglect which deeply 
 wounded her proud spirit. He knew not that 
 Mrs. Onslow was incessantly goading her mother 
 to dismiss her entirely, on the flattering pre- 
 tence that she could not bear her dear mamma 
 to love any one but herself. 
 
 Accustomed to find every thing give way to 
 his wishes, impatient of any contradiction, the 
 health of the old gentleman began to decline ; 
 and Clara observing the terror of increasing his 
 maladies rendered Mr. Russell more than ever 
 fearful of proposing their immediate marriage, 
 felt incensed at his pusillanimity, and anxious to 
 escape from them all, she only doubted where to 
 direct her steps ; for though she believed the 
 houses of all her chapel friends would eagerly 
 open to her, she hesitated how to make her 
 wishes known to them; an additional affront 
 soon, however, decided her on removing some-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 149 
 
 where. The class of her acquaintance to whom 
 she could propose pecuniary recompense was 
 the only one on whom she could obtrude her- 
 self uninvited; and as these were all in trade, 
 she felt some reluctance against taking up her 
 abode with them. She thought, however, that 
 as soon as it was understood she was at liberty, 
 those who had so overpowered her with invita- 
 tions, when she was not able to accept them, 
 would assuredly come forward to offer her friend- 
 ship and protection. 
 
 The person to whom she at last resolved on 
 applying, was the wife of a respectable linen- 
 draper. Mrs. Horton looked grave at the pro- 
 posal of taking Clara as their boarder enquired 
 whether her intention was approved by Mrs. 
 Hamilton, and, finally, after consulting her hus- 
 band, and naming a high price, consented, as a 
 great favour, to receive her for a time. 
 
 When Clara, rather humbled, returned to 
 make her resolution known at Elm House, Mrs. 
 Hamilton affected great concern and surprise ; 
 yet she thought a little change might be of 
 service to her, and would sacrifice her own 
 inclinations, provided her dear Clara would 
 oblige her, by deferring her departure for a few 
 weeks, when, as Mr. Drake was going to 
 Brighton for his health, she could leave the 
 house, without distressing his feelings; and to 
 this, Clara, whose spirits sunk at leaving for 
 strangers the home where she had been so long 
 H 3
 
 150 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 sheltered, in which she had enjoyed such happy 
 hours, readily agreed. 
 
 In the prospect of getting rid of her, Mrs. 
 Hamilton's kind feelings towards the young 
 creature, whom she felt she had inveigled from 
 her friends and relatives, gradually revived, and, 
 but for the artful insinuations of her malicious 
 daughter, she would yet have forbidden her 
 departure. 
 
 When Clara took leave of Mr. Drake, who 
 was attended to Brighton by his wife, Mrs. 
 Hamilton, and Mr. Russell, and who remained 
 ignorant of her projected desertion of him, an 
 agony of sorrow oppressed her heart, and she 
 felt convinced she should see his face no more. 
 
 The sight of the house and grounds, so soon 
 to be claimed by another master, became hateful 
 to her ; and, assisted by Mrs. Barton, who re- 
 joiced, from natural jealousy, at her departure, 
 she soon finished her preparations, and removed 
 to her new habitation in Oxford Street : here 
 she was respectfully and civilly welcomed ; but, 
 after making her first appearance at chapel with 
 the Hortons, where she was rather coolly greeted, 
 she waited with impatience and anxiety for visitors 
 and invitations, in vain none arrived ! 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Drake, who felt his end ap- 
 proaching, " true to the ruling passion, strong 
 in death," employed his last eloquence on his 
 two companions, in whom he principally trusted, 
 for the support of the connexion, when lie should
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 151 
 
 be no more. He forbad, and ridiculed, with 
 all the force of his sarcastic humour, the 
 union of Mr. Russell with a girl young enough 
 to be his daughter, by whom he wOuld infalli- 
 bly be drawn back into the world, and given 
 up by it a prey to the devil; exhorting him, 
 rather to follow the precept and example of 
 St. Paul, continuing " a nursing father to the 
 church." 
 
 The weak mind of poor Mr. Russell was 
 dreadfully harassed by this struggle between 
 his inclination and what he considered his duty; 
 and the death of his old friend happening soon 
 after, seemed to set an awful seal on his exhort- 
 ations and predictions. Nights of watchfulness 
 had already increased the irritability of his 
 nervous and delicate constitution, which, no 
 longer able to contend against the anxiety of his 
 mind, sunk under it. A brain fever was the 
 consequence, which, after threatening his 'life, 
 finally settled into that degree of insanity, com- 
 monly called melancholy. His brother under- 
 took the care and administration of his person 
 and effects, and all his generous intentions in 
 favour of Clara were rendered valueless. 
 
 The situation of this poor girl was becoming 
 critical : the death and illness of her two kindest 
 friends had afflicted her heart, and desolated her 
 warm feelings ; while to these real sorrows was 
 added the mortifying conviction of Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton's indifference, who, having now taken up her 
 abode with her daughter, appeared to have for- 
 H 4
 
 152 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 gotten her useless friend. Mrs. Onslow, not 
 content with this, aware their conduct would be 
 commented on, spread about the report that 
 Clara was artful, mischief-making, and extrava- 
 gant accusations easily believed, where no 
 motive existed for doubting them. Ellen had 
 just sailed for France, whither Sir William 
 Osbourne, alarmed at certain symptoms of de- 
 cline in his health, had suddenly resolved to 
 proceed, in the hope of bettering it by passing 
 the approaching winter in a warmer climate: 
 she knew only that her sister, on Mr. Drake's 
 decease, had quitted his house for that of an- 
 other friend ; little did she guess the real situa- 
 tion of that proud and still unsubdued spirit ! 
 Unwilling to own how she had been treated 
 by those for whom she had given up all former 
 attachments, pride alone would have prevented 
 her consulting her sister, if she had known 
 exactly where to address her. She was un- 
 noticed by the superior class of the congregation, 
 who were indeed nearly engrossed by the quar- 
 rels and divisions, occasioned by the death of 
 their head. She was living at an expence beyond 
 what her income could afford : angry and indig- 
 nant against all the world but herself, she was 
 exactly in the situation to be taken advantage of 
 by any artful person, when a relation of her 
 hostess, visiting frequently at the iiouse, aware 
 of the undecided state of her feelings, availed 
 himself of it to persuade her to unite her fate 
 with his, and accompany him abroad. As Mr.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 153 
 
 Horton possessed no particular art of pleasing 
 the sick and discontented, but discerning mind 
 of Clara, she would have spurned his offer, had 
 not the temptation of visiting new scenes, and 
 leaving a country and people she now hated, 
 proved an inducement she could not resist. 
 Mrs. Horton and her husband joined their per- 
 suasions, asserting that Henry had been long 
 attached to Clara, though too diffident to own 
 it; till Clara, pressed on all sides, eager to 
 escape from present difficulties, gave her re- 
 luctant consent. As it is was necessary they 
 should sail within a limited time, (Mr. Horton 
 having an allotment of land in South America, 
 with other settlers,) little time was allowed 
 for deliberation or repentance. Mr. Horton 
 reckoned, confidently, on deriving wealth and 
 consequence, from the culture of this fruitful 
 soil, another land of Canaan ; and proposed, 
 moreover, in gratitude to heaven, to provide for 
 the spiritual wants of his brethren, by introducing 
 among them the pure and scriptural doctrines of 
 the late Mr. Drake. Clara had often envied the 
 glorious though painful lot attending the wives 
 of missionaries, whose sufferings, in their holy 
 cause, are recorded and celebrated in so many 
 of the pamphlets and magazines of the present 
 day. To spread the light of truth in benighted 
 regions, to become the patroness of a new sect, 
 offered, to her enthusiastic mind, a prospect 
 flattering at once to her pride and her benevo- 
 lence ; and she bestowed nearly the whole of her 
 H 5
 
 154- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 intervening leisure, in studying plans for, and 
 reading delusive accounts of this terra incognita. 
 
 She neglected not, however, to write to 
 Ellen an account of her intentions, aware it 
 would not be possible to receive an answer in 
 time to prevent them ; after which, without in- 
 forming or consulting any other person, accom- 
 panied only by the master and mistress of the 
 shop, Clara Mordaunt gave her hand (and, what 
 he far more valued, the right to her little for- 
 tune) to Henry Horton. 
 
 They remained in London, after the important 
 ceremony, no longer than was necessary to 
 secure the cash, as Clara's guardian could make 
 no objection to her marriage, it having been 
 celebrated by banns. They then proceeded to 
 Portsmouth, from which port they were to em- 
 bark ; and all was bustle and confusion, till Mrs. 
 Henry Horton found herself on board the 
 Albion, from which the shores of her native 
 country were rapidly receding. 
 
 And now, that the fever of her mind was 
 abated, how did her spirit sink ! The prospect 
 formerly so brilliant, seemed blank and cheerless ; 
 while the most gloomy despondency took pos- 
 session of her soul. She had sufficient time for 
 meditation, as her husband, busy in making his 
 arrangements, seldom intruded on her. Her 
 affectionate heart, once awakened from its long 
 delusion, turned with unavailing regret and 
 poignant self-reproach towards her beloved 
 sister. All the presumption and unkindness of
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 155 
 
 her conduct towards this dear relation, towards 
 Mrs. Anderson, and the friendly Stanhopes, 
 now glared before her eyes ; and she felt the 
 hollowness of those to whom she had transferred 
 her affection yet more keenly. But the re- 
 flection that these sad regrets were unavailing, 
 and still more, the real foundation of trust in 
 Providence that had been inculcated in her early 
 youth, fortunately came to her assistance ; and, 
 humbling herself under the mighty arm of God, 
 sensible that her punishment had not been 
 greater than she deserved, she resolved, with 
 Divine assistance, to endeavour to correct the 
 pride and vanity which had, she felt convinced, 
 been the real causes of her unhappiness ; and to 
 turn her attention, now, to making the best of 
 that lot she had chosen for herself, and endur- 
 ing with patience jmd resignation its probable 
 evils. 
 
 Ellen, and even Mrs. Hamilton, had been 
 thrown into great consternation when the news 
 of Clara's hasty marriage had first reached 
 them. The conscience of the latter could not 
 but suggest to her, whose neglect and unkindness 
 had principally occasioned it; and she busied 
 herself with enquiring into the character of the 
 man she had married. To her great relief she 
 discovered, that although Mr. Horton was 
 known to be poor and embarrassed, he was not 
 considered unprincipled ; and she now in- 
 geniously persuaded herself the whole had been 
 a fortunate event, as providing for her former 
 H 6
 
 156 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 protegee, and relieving herself from the necessity 
 of caring farther about her concerns. 
 
 But her affectionate sister viewed the matter 
 in a very different light. How could Clara, 
 accustomed to all the comforts and elegancies of 
 life, endure the privations she must now expe- 
 rience ? She could only solace her mind and 
 relieve her anxiety by reflecting, that, whether 
 in the new or old world, Clara would still be 
 under the care and protection of that merciful 
 God, who can always transmute apparent evil 
 into good ; and since it appeared probable, trials 
 were to be her present portion, Ellen prayed 
 she might be enabled to support them with 
 patience, humility, and resignation.
 
 157 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1 HE Albion had been six days out at sea, dur- 
 ing which it had encountered only unfavour- 
 able winds, when a violent gale sprung up, 
 which not only occasioned severe suffering to 
 all on board, but, by some accidental damage to 
 the ship itself, obliged the captain to put back 
 in order to refit. Mr. Horton, who had not been 
 an unmoved spectator of the fright and danger 
 threatening his young wife, had bitterly repented 
 having exposed her to them ; and reflecting this 
 was but the commencement of what she might 
 expect, the companion of an adventurer, he 
 began to revolve the practibility of leaving her 
 in England, till he had had sufficient time to 
 make arrangements for her greater comfort. Her 
 fortune had been the principal object of his 
 pursuit, of that he had possession ; and he 
 began to consider a fine lady-wife would be 
 a sad incumbrance in the wilds of America ; not, 
 however, deficient in common honesty, he re- 
 solved to make over to her now, all that he could 
 possibly spare, for her present support, as 
 well as to render her the partner of that future 
 good fortune of which he never for a moment 
 doubted.
 
 158 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 The fever of enthusiasm had subsided in 
 Clara's mind, while horror of the sea at pre- 
 sent superseded every other sensation ; joyfully, 
 therefore, did she accept the suggestion of her 
 husband, advising him at the same time to de- 
 tach himself from a scheme which she now per- 
 ceived was attended with risk as well as diffi- 
 culties ; but Mr. Horton informed her with 
 truth, no other path to competence remained for 
 him, he having already tried several ; and as his 
 younger brother was to join him in America, 
 provided the accounts were favourable, it was 
 arranged that Clara should sail under his pro- 
 tection : it was farther settled, that she should 
 remain until this period in some cheap retire- 
 ment, from which she could easily reach the 
 coast ; Clara stipulating, with particular earnest- 
 ness, that the change in their plans should re- 
 main for the present unknown to their relations 
 in London ; as she still felt the greatest repug- 
 nance to the sight of any of her former acquaint- 
 ance, and wished them all ignorant of her fate. 
 
 These and other arrangements agreed upon, 
 the newly married couple were called upon 
 to part, as the Albion was about to sail again : 
 both felt more on the occasion than might 
 have been expected from the circumstances 
 of their union; but they were aware it was 
 uncertain, whether they ever met again; and 
 what is the person or thing we do not see with 
 some emotion, when we think it is for the last 
 time?
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 159 
 
 No sooner had the agitation of this last inter- 
 view subsided, than Clara felt abandoned and for- 
 lorn, beyond any thing she had ever experienced. 
 In vain she wished herself in the ship, from 
 which she had so lately escaped, whose white 
 sails she yet discerned in the horizon ! Diffi- 
 culties, even dangers would be preferable to the 
 dreary void she felt at her heart. In what 
 foreign climate could she be more isolated and 
 desolate than in her own ? Where should she 
 direct her steps ? 
 
 While these dreary thoughts passed through 
 her mind, her eye was attracted by a large 
 printed handbill, offering " cheap and expediti- 
 ous travelling to France." France, the country 
 of her beloved sister's abode ! the place she had 
 so long desired to visit ! Could she but be in 
 the same land with Ellen, however distant, she 
 should feel comparatively happy : and why not ? 
 could she live any where cheaper, or more 
 secure from meeting those she wished to avoid V 
 Experience had, however, taught Clara the 
 danger of deciding hastily, and she returned to 
 her inn, to revolve this new idea at her leisure: 
 the very thought, had already dissipated much of 
 the gloom that oppressed her mind, while her 
 naturally sanguine and somewhat romantic ima- 
 gination, held out visions of comfort, almost 
 happiness, to be attained in some French cottage, 
 among new and charming scenery; and even 
 when morning dawned upon her almost sleep- 
 less night, the plan seemed still feasible, although
 
 160 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 she still doubted where to establish herself. Sir 
 William and Lady Osbourne were, she knew, 
 gone first into the Netherlands, after which, she 
 believed, they would repair to Paris. She did 
 not wish to be near them. No, she would not 
 for worlds appear to force herself on their notice 
 or hospitality, aware, as she was, that they dis- 
 approved her conduct; she would not even 
 undeceive her sister as to her not being in Ame- 
 rica, for the present, as that would only increase 
 Ellen's anxiety on her account. The fertile 
 plains of the south would have attracted her 
 wishes, had it not been for the distance; the 
 same objection attached to the neighbourhood 
 of Paris, beside that it would be too expensive ; 
 she resolved, therefore, to proceed in the packet 
 to the coast, from which she could easily re- 
 return, if summoned to join her husband, or if 
 more adviseable, hereafter, proceed inland. 
 
 This important point arranged, she selected 
 from her wardrobe the plainest of her clothes, 
 with all her trinkets, in case of any emergency, 
 and leaving the rest of her property in a place 
 of safety, took her place in one of the regular 
 packets sailing from Portsmouth to Havre. 
 
 The number of passengers, owing to the ear- 
 liness of the season, was not great ; and as the 
 passage was tedious, they had time to become 
 acquainted with each other. An elderly couple, 
 going over on business, were struck with the 
 youthful and melancholy appearance of Clara ; 
 and seeing she was alone, hearing from her-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 161 
 
 self the reason of her being so, as well as -her 
 object in seeking France, they attached her to 
 their own little party on landing, and conducted 
 her to their favourite inn ; no small obligation 
 to an unprotected female, arriving in a foreign 
 land ! Observing that she was anxious to leave 
 this expensive abode, Mr. Andrewes kindly 
 offered to assist her search for a clean and decent 
 lodging; and thus was Clara's entrance into 
 France unexpectedly sanctioned. 
 
 The second house into which they entered 
 was kept by a woman of such prepossessing ap- 
 pearance, that Clara felt rejoiced when her far- 
 ther observation ascertained, that its accommo- 
 dations, though humble, were clean and neat. Ma- 
 dame Julienne informed them, in answer to their 
 gratifying commendations, that she had acquired 
 English habits by being exchanged, when very 
 young, into a family living at Dover. Except, 
 however, the rare qualities above mentioned, 
 and some partiality towards the English, her 
 early education had left few traces, as she could 
 not now speak any language but her own. 
 With the long war had vanished the prosperity 
 of her family; and while she added to their 
 small income by letting part of their house, her 
 husband carried on a precarious and sometimes 
 illicit trade with the opposite coast, all with the 
 hope of comfortably providing for their only 
 child, a pretty girl of thirteen. 
 
 Clara's arrangements in this simple household
 
 162 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 were 'soon completed, and her new friends left 
 her, with the promise of seeking her again on 
 their return home. The pleasing countenance of 
 Madame Julienne was not deceitful. Clara found 
 her all that was kind-hearted and considerate, 
 although their intercourse at first was chiefly 
 carried on by smiles and gestures, owing to her 
 imperfect knowledge of French. Her natural 
 quickness, and the necessity of the case, soon, 
 however, lessened this inconvenient effect of 
 early inattention ; while she found in her French 
 hostess a degree of honesty, attention, and friend- 
 liness, not often met with in a similar rank in 
 England. Still, however, Clara felt unhappy; 
 she had no society, no useful employment. 
 The little town of Havre contained many Eng- 
 lish, and she feared her living alone among 
 them, would excite unpleasant observation. Her 
 natural love of the country made her long to be 
 able to range about at liberty ; and as she had 
 lately found herself frequently unwell, she 
 thought more air and exercise were necessary 
 for her health. She, therefore, communicated 
 to her simple landlady as much of her history 
 as was necessary for her to know ; and entreated 
 her assistance in procuring a comfortable country 
 residence for the summer. Madame was desolee 
 at the idea of losing her charming inmate ; but 
 as she had become really interested for Clara, 
 and was of a most obliging disposition, she pro- 
 mised to consider the case, and enquire among
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 163 
 
 her acquaintance. Soon after this conversation, 
 she came bouncing into her apartment, with an 
 open letter in her hand. 
 
 " Oh, madame," said she, " I have such a 
 thought ! My own sister, whose husband is 
 fermier to the Baroness St. Aulaire, has just 
 written to invite us to pay them a visit ; and I 
 have been thinking, that if you do not think the 
 distance too great, it is very likely she may know 
 of some vacant cottage in her neighbourhood. 
 Every body agrees that St. Aulaire is one of the 
 prettiest villages in France ; and the good 
 Baronne, such an excellent, charming lady to 
 live under !" 
 
 She then proceeded, in answer to Clara's 
 further enquiries, to state, that the hamlet so 
 earnestly recommended, was two leagues from 
 
 , a small provincial town, and one long 
 
 day's journey from her present abode ; and as 
 such a distance seemed no insuperable ob- 
 jection to a scheme so attractive, it was imme- 
 diately arranged that Madame Julienne should 
 write to her sister, representing the particulars of 
 her new friend's situation, and her desire to 
 retire into the country for her health. 
 
 Clara's impatient spirit thought the answer 
 never would arrive, so anxious was she to be 
 admitted into the lovely village so eloquently 
 described by her hostess, who, accustomed to 
 pass there the few holidays her industrious spirit 
 allowed itself, thought St. Aulaire a perfect 
 paradise.
 
 164- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 At last a letter came : the writer had carried 
 her sister's application to the baroness ; who, 
 loving the English, had given permission for 
 Madame Horton to take possession of a cottage 
 in which an old servant of her own had lately 
 died ; provided Madame Julienne would vouch 
 for her good character : or, it was added, she 
 might, if more agreeable, board for a few months 
 in the house of the fermier himself. Clara was 
 delighted at this favourable reply ; but, as she 
 imagined many disagreeables, might attend 
 living with a family of strangers and foreign- 
 ers, she accepted with thanks the offer of a 
 dwelling to herself; and it was settled, that 
 Claudine, the daughter of her kind landlady, 
 should accompany her to St. Aulaire, in order 
 to pay a visit to her aunt, and introduce to her 
 their new neighbour.
 
 16.5 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT was a beautiful spring morning when Clara 
 and her young companion ascended, at five 
 o'clock, the cabriolet of an enormous diligence ; 
 the conducteur, an acquaintance of Madame 
 Julienne, by their side, all bustle, importance, 
 and civility. In this elevated station the traveller 
 is not incommoded by the other passengers, 
 and enjoys an unobstructed view of the country 
 through which he passes. The postillion cracked 
 his whip, in order to set in motion his five 
 ill-assorted steeds, while the eyes of Clara 
 filled with tears, as she took her last view of the 
 good Madame, whose unvarying kindness had 
 so cheered her sojourn in a foreign land ; they 
 were tears of thankfulness as much as regret; 
 gratitude to the merciful power who had raised 
 her up so useful a friend, throbbed at her heart, 
 while giving herself up to the anticipation 
 of the pleasing scenes she was about to visit. 
 Exhilarated by the singing of the birds, charmed 
 by the reviving sight of all the beauty and har- 
 mony of spring, her spirits rose, and she felt 
 happier than she had done for many months. 
 She was as yet in that happy age of early youth, in 
 which the sad experience of the past discolours
 
 166 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 not the prospects of the future ! when the feel- 
 ing of existence alone is delightful ! and when 
 novelty and change possess sufficient charms to 
 counterbalance the inconveniences of fatigue and 
 privation. 
 
 The country, as the travellers proceeded on 
 their journey, became more and more lovely. 
 Clara saw, for the first time, that belle France, 
 of which its inhabitants are so proud; the 
 picturesque dresses and appearance of its female 
 inhabitants added to its charm, while Claudine, 
 just released from the rigours of her first com- 
 munion, was all spirits and vivacity ; these, how- 
 ever, exhausted themselves long before the close 
 of the expedition ; and when she and the con- 
 ducteur had resigned themselves to repose, Cla- 
 ra's thoughts again reverted to the past again 
 speculated on the future. To her warm heart, 
 and vivid fancy, it appeared impossible to live 
 among such scenes in freedom, and be other- 
 wise than happy ; and she resolved, that if it 
 answered her expectation, she would remain at 
 St. Aulaire, till her sister returned to England, 
 or till the prospects of her husband had borne 
 the test of time. 
 
 As they proceeded slowly, the sun was nearly 
 setting when the clumsy vehicle stopped at the 
 small auberge, where they were to descend. 
 Here they found, waiting their arrival, Madame 
 Louvet herself, attended by a stout young dam- 
 sel, doomed, to carry their baggage. She re- 
 ceived her niece and Clara, with much kind volu-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 167 
 
 bility, and many gestures of congratulation, and 
 immediately proceeded to conduct them to her 
 abode. 
 
 The village of St. Aulaire, though only a mile 
 from the public road, was quite secluded, and so 
 surrounded by trees, that at a little distance its 
 spire alone was visible, rising in the middle of a 
 wood. The river Seine, winding through fertile 
 meadows, flowed in front, while at its back rose 
 a lofty and vine-covered hill, to the left of which, 
 partly on its eminence, stood the ancient chateau 
 and venerable forest, belonging to the proprie- 
 tor of the whole, the baroness St. Aulaire. As 
 Clara advanced, lost in admiration of the lovely 
 and peaceful scene, she perceived that the cot- 
 tages, of which the small hamlet was composed, 
 instead of standing together, in a long dirty 
 street, as is commonly the case, in French vil- 
 lages, were detached, each possessing its own 
 good-sized garden; and, when the inhabitants 
 came forward to curtsey to Madame, and to stare 
 at the stranger, she observed likewise, that they 
 looked neat and cheerful. Ah ! thought she, I 
 will adopt their simple dress ; which, it must be 
 remarked, she fancied very becoming, and en- 
 deavour to reduce my wants, as they do. 
 
 As Clara understood from Madame Louvet, 
 that the cottage destined for her had not been 
 cleaned since the funeral of its last occupant, 
 she contented herself at present, with surveying 
 its outside, which promised much substantial 
 comfort ; yet, for the first time, it struck her, she
 
 168 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 should be lonely living by herself; the dwelling 
 of Madame was, however, near, and she told 
 Clara, she should detain her there, for two or 
 three weeks, till every thing was made comfort- 
 able for her reception. She accordingly followed 
 to a large rambling house, situated close to the 
 grounds of the chateau, where they found Mon- 
 sieur sitting by a blazing wood fire, while, in 
 the spacious chimney corner, sat a genteel and 
 venerable gentleman, whose peculiar dress de- 
 clared him a minister of religion. Clara had 
 imbibed from Mr. Drake, a peculiar horror of 
 popery; yet her prejudices could not stand 
 against the benignant countenance, and gracious 
 manners of the cure of St. Aulaire, who now 
 rose to welcome her, with all the easy polite- 
 ness of a person used to courts, or rather, of a 
 real Christian, Christianity, in its perfect sense, 
 being the true law of politeness that, prac- 
 tised in the world, its hollow 7 shadow. Followed 
 by the respectful obeisances of all the household, 
 he almost immediately withdrew ; and then 
 Clara was enabled to observe her future host 
 was an intelligent well-behaved man ; his wife 
 greatly resembling her good sister ; their accom- 
 modations, sufficiently luxurious to suit her taste, 
 which was any thing but fastidious. Her active 
 cheerful habits soon rendered her a favourite 
 with these worthy people ; while the good cure 
 rose in her estimation every time she saw him. 
 She found their good baronne the almost constant 
 theme of praise and conversation, which of course
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 169 
 
 caused her to be very eager to see this great 
 lady. One morning, observing a bustle in the 
 village, she was told Madame was going her 
 rounds ; and, soon after, a large old-fashioned 
 caleche stopt at the door of the fermier him- 
 self, whose family were collected within sight 
 of it, though at a respectful distance. Clara, 
 who was in the salle a manger, rose at the 
 entrance of two persons of very remarkable 
 appearance. The first was a weather-beaten 
 figure, apparently about sixty, dressed in a 
 cocked hat and pig-tail, with an ancient thread- 
 bare coat, and large silver buckles ; the whole 
 countenance piercing, but discoloured with 
 snuff. The second was a fat slovenly-looking 
 female, about the same age, carrying on her finger 
 a favourite parrot. The tout ensemble of both was 
 so ludicrous, that Clara had great difficulty in keep- 
 ing her countenance, till her mirth was changed 
 into surprise, when Monsieur Louvet, obsequious- 
 ly approaching, what Clara had imagined a little 
 old gentleman, begged permission to inform Ma- 
 dame, that she saw before her the young Angloise, 
 to whom she had been pleased to allow the liberty 
 of living under her protection. This eccentric 
 personage noticed her new tenant with great 
 affability, desired Monsieur to see himself, that 
 any furniture she might want was sent for to 
 the chateau, as well as all things at the cottage 
 put in repair, and the garden stocked from her 
 own. She then, followed by her companion, hob- 
 bled back to her carriage, which, Clara now per- 
 i
 
 170 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 ceived, was filled with favourite dogs of various 
 kinds. Madame was about to launch forth as 
 usual in her lady's praise, when Clara reproached 
 her, for not having in some degree prepared a 
 stranger for the baroness's truly comic metamor- 
 phosis : her friend could only protest she had 
 quite forgotten her singularities in her benevo- 
 lence; but from the good cure Clara soon learnt 
 that the late baron, a man of strange habits but 
 great worth, having passed great part of his life 
 in travelling, chiefly in England, had been left 
 guardian to a young orphan, whom he had mar- 
 ried, by way of taking care of, while she, attached 
 to him by gratitude and duty, without any family 
 connections, and excluded from all equal society, 
 had made it the sole aim of her existence to 
 adapt herself to his habits, and share his pur- 
 suits. Besides studying the comfort and im- 
 provement of those living under him, and exer- 
 cising hospitality towards all, the baron was a 
 great huntsman, drank hard, smoked, and took 
 immoderate quantities of snuff.* Not only keep- 
 ing him company in all these, his complaisant lady 
 gradually adopted his peculiar costume, which 
 the tyrannical force of habit induced her to con- 
 tinue, even after his death; in every particular, 
 except field sports, for which she was now too 
 infirm, she religiously adhered to her husband's 
 opinions; and it was his partiality towards the 
 
 * The above character is strictly drawn from life, as 
 British officers, quartered upon her, can attest : the author 
 has only changed her name and residence*
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 171 
 
 English, which had induced her to give such 
 ready welcome to Clara. 
 
 Madame Montolon, the lady who had lived 
 at the chateau since the baroness became a wi- 
 dow, like many French women of a certain age, 
 was much addicted to good living, although, in 
 other respects, a well-meaning, quiet woman. 
 She had suffered much adversity, and was well 
 qualified to appreciate the solid comforts of her 
 present abode. 
 
 Meantime Madame Louvet, indefatigable in 
 her new friend's service, proposed that she 
 should take into her employ the eldest daughter 
 of a neighbouring peasant, to whom she added 
 the loan of one of her own domestics, till the 
 young Rosine should be enabled to do the work 
 herself. Mademoiselle Claudine likewise ac- 
 companied Clara on her removal, lest she should 
 be genee for want of society. She was already 
 the belle of the village, the only person who 
 sported that proof of gentility, a bonnet ; and 
 now, wild with spirits and full of importance, set 
 herself to see what could be made of Rosine, 
 who, on her part, pleased at the honour of being 
 selected to wait on Madame, possessing great 
 animation, and much of the natural grace and 
 adroitness of her country, promised to be a very 
 apt scholar. 
 
 Since her long journey, Clara had become 
 
 sensible she should soon have a new claimant on 
 
 her care and affection; and this circumstance, 
 
 whilst it added to her thankfulness, for having 
 
 i 2
 
 172 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 found so pleasant an abode, opened to her view 
 so many sources of occupation, that she no 
 longer feared feeling solitary. Madame Louvet 
 had had a large family herself, and felt her in- 
 terest in Clara greatly increased by this disco- 
 very; whilst on her kind assistance, and the 
 attendance of the good Katrine Dubois, the 
 mother of Rosine, she relied for all that human 
 aid can afford in that hour of trial, cheerfully 
 trusting its issue to that Providence which had 
 hitherto so signally protected her. 
 
 In the care of her garden, Clara found a use- 
 ful and zealous assistant in Albert, the brother 
 of Rosine ; and under their joint management, 
 assisted by old Michele the gardener at the 
 chateau, aided by the favourable season, and 
 its own excellent soil, it became the wonder 
 and admiration of the neighbourhood. Its 
 mistress, struck with their novelty, resolved to 
 hire also a small patch of ground for her vine- 
 yard, and to manage it according to the fashion 
 of the country; beside this, she led the flexible 
 branches of the large neglected vine that grew 
 against her house, so as to cover nearly its 
 whole front, in this case sacrificing fruit to 
 foliage. Roses, stocks, and carnations, needed 
 only to be planted to flourish in this favourable 
 climate; but Michele, and most of the neigh- 
 bours, were astonished at such skill in one so 
 young : they knew not that the trade of a gar- 
 dener had been that to which Mr. Drake had 
 originally owed his support. After his elevation
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 173 
 
 he had, with the usual force of habit, retained 
 both his fondness for and skill in this interesting 
 pursuit; and as Clara was always his companion 
 and assistant during his daily operations, she 
 had almost unconsciously imbibed some of his 
 proficiency. 
 
 Her next and earnest endeavour was to im- 
 plant in the mind of her young attendant habits 
 of cleanliness, since even Agathe, Madame 
 Louvet's principal female servant, failed in that 
 essential particular. Rosine was proud, and 
 eager to learn; already skilled in the care and 
 management of poultry, of which Clara had 
 provided an ample stock, she astonished her 
 mistress by the readiness with which she adopted 
 ways and opinions of which she could previously 
 have had no idea. They were both so simple 
 in their tastes and appetites, that when Claudine 
 was departed, Clara was herself surprised at the 
 small demand their living made upon her purse. 
 The incessant kindness of the baroness sup- 
 plied her with nearly all the superfluities they 
 could require, while her presents were accom- 
 panied with invitations to the chateau, she 
 found it difficult to refuse, yet aware of the 
 habits of its inmates, felt reluctant to accept; 
 her situation, however, was a sufficient excuse 
 for frequently declining them, while the conse- 
 quence conferred upon her by such an honour 
 was of great service, by repressing the famili- 
 arity of her poorer neighbours, and counter- 
 i 3
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 balancing the odium attached to her as a 
 heretic. 
 
 The good women of St. Aulaire were less 
 gossiping than those of England, because they 
 were more industrious; in this respect, as in 
 their simple, strong, and suitable attire, they 
 were, indeed, worthy to be imitated by some 
 of our idle, dressy slatterns, as were their 
 husbands for their great sobriety. Brawls and 
 riots were nearly unknown in this quiet village, 
 where for amusement they resorted, on fete days, 
 to dancing, bowls, and other rustic diversions. 
 On Sunday evenings they ascended to the 
 chateau, where the baroness always provided 
 music, and generally witnessed the enjoyment 
 of her tenants herself: if the weather permitted, 
 they assembled on the lawn, the dancers in the 
 middle, surrounding the musicians ; the elders 
 seated on low benches round them ; the women 
 usually knitting, the men with pipes in their 
 mouths, but both looking on with pleasure, re- 
 minded of their own youth. If the weather 
 proved bad, they were accommodated in the 
 large old-fashioned hall of entrance. Monday, 
 however, restored all to their labour, and then 
 they were accompanied and assisted in their 
 work by their "wives and daughters, who either 
 dug in the fields, or drove the team, or rode 
 to market, as was most advisable for forwarding 
 the general routine of business. The prepara- 
 tion of hemp and flax likewise employed the
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 175 
 
 females of all ages ; during the long summer 
 evenings, the inhabitants of almost every cottage . 
 brought their spinning-wheel to the outside of 
 their dirty dwellings, where their picturesque 
 dresses, clean white caps, with the cheerful 
 sound of so many voices, formed a gratifying 
 and singular scene. Clara delighted to en- 
 courage their industry, and to relieve, as far as 
 was in her power, their wants, but she shrunk 
 from their personal uncleanness, and thanked 
 heaven that in her own abode she could escape 
 from filth; she resolved, however, as soon as 
 her influence was more established, to attempt at 
 least some reformation. 
 
 Sheltered from evil, and in possession of all 
 the necessary comforts of life, Clara Horton 
 would still have needed that which gives to 
 existence its principal charm, had she not 
 enjoyed the intercourse of friendship on equal 
 terms with the good cure. He had been early 
 destined to the church, and had passed his time 
 among the ignorant and narrow-minded; if, 
 however, he had been excluded from the re- 
 finements of polished society, neither had he 
 been exposed to its distractions : devoting him- 
 self wholly to his sacred profession, he had 
 endeavoured to imitate the great Master, whose 
 servant he was ; that merciful Saviour, who 
 had lived not only among the poor and the un- 
 lettered, but who " went about doing good," 
 even among publicans and sinners, exposed to 
 every variety of hardship and persecution, 
 i 4
 
 176 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 At sixty years of age, Monsieur Lamotte had 
 not become gloomy or unsocial ; for true Chris- 
 tianity ennobles the character, raises the hopes, 
 cheers the spirits, and proves the only antidote 
 to that selfishness and misanthropy to which we 
 should otherwise be exposed in solitary life. 
 His benevolence first induced him to seek Clara ; 
 although he knew she was not a sheep of his 
 flock, but folded under different shepherds, he 
 still expected to meet at the general resurrection 
 all who had trusted in the same Redeemer, and 
 see them admitted to the same salvation. Not 
 that he doubted his own church being the more 
 excellent, as well as the more ancient and ve- 
 nerable : but he considered those born into the 
 other entitled to the right hand of fellowship, as 
 well as to all worldly assistance. In the pre- 
 sent instance his charity was its own reward, since 
 he soon found in the sprightly conversation and 
 intelligent mind of his new parishioner unceas- 
 ing variety and amusement. She confided to 
 him the history of her past life, and excited his 
 unspeakable astonishment in describing the cha- 
 racter of Mr. Drake. " Ah !" thought the pious 
 father, " happy is it, that the Catholics, by 
 forbidding dissent, exclude such unworthy 
 pastors !" Clara, also, had lost her reverence 
 for his opinions, although she retained a grateful 
 remembrance of his kindness to herself; she 
 still smarted under the unworthy return she had 
 met with from his hearers; and now become 
 diffident of herself, she resolved to allow herself
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 177 
 
 no conversation with her new friend on religious 
 subjects, but to seek her rule of faith and prac- 
 tice in the Bible alone. Observing the cure look 
 grave at the remark, she repeated that this was 
 the only condition on which she could receive 
 his visits ; while she restored his good humour 
 by giving him the choice of several ridiculous 
 modes of doing penance in case he transgressed 
 this rule. She likewise wrote out what she 
 called the laws of her society, which she stuck 
 up in her little saloon : " For," said she, " it 
 behoves me to take especial care of my charac- 
 ter, now that I have no one to trust to but 
 myself." 
 
 Monsieur Lamotte understood the delicate, 
 though playful, appeal, and never reverted to 
 the forbidden subject farther than in a general 
 point of view. 
 
 Clara had free admittance to the library of 
 the chateau, which had not been entered since 
 the baron's death, as it was reputed to be 
 haunted by his spirit. After a long search 
 among accumulated dust, she discovered some 
 English works : but these were soon exhausted, 
 and the father observing she rather sighed over 
 the French ones, offered to give her some re- 
 gular instruction in that language. Clara had 
 long repented her former inattention to the 
 means of improvement she had possessed ; and 
 now, in the long reveries into which she occa- 
 sionally fell, it sometimes occurred to her, that 
 should her husband prove finally unsuccessful 
 i 5
 
 178 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 in his schemes, she should be left destitute, with 
 a child to maintain. His last letters were 
 rather desponding ; for though he still doubted 
 not of ultimate success, it was evident he had 
 been greatly disappointed both in the climate 
 and soil, while his feelings were harassed by 
 the sight of numbers of his countrymen, deluded 
 thither without the means of returning home, 
 or subsisting where they were. Under these 
 circumstances, and with the view of preventing 
 her mind from dwelling on all that might await 
 her, she not only accepted with gratitude the 
 cure's present offer ; but requested him to carry 
 still farther his benevolent purpose, and become 
 her instructor in general literature, as well as in 
 his own language, astronomy, and various other 
 branches, for which he was well qualified, 
 having already taught them in Germany during 
 the most stormy part of the revolution. Her 
 object was, in case of misfortune, to save herself 
 from the horrors of dependence ; beside which, 
 the pursuit soon became a source of gratification 
 to both master and pupil, of which they could 
 have formed no idea. Clara's lessons were al- 
 ways short, though regular, as Monsieur Lamotte 
 never allowed himself to neglect his more im- 
 portant avocations : perhaps he fulfilled them 
 with less pleasure, now that he had other sub- 
 jects of interest, but certainly not with less 
 exactness. 
 
 Clara, likewise, had sufficient employment 
 for her leisure : besides the cares of her little
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 1?9 
 
 menage, she was converting the best of her own 
 dresses into garments for the expected stranger. 
 She gave instruction three times a week, in 
 reading and work, to some of the most ignorant 
 of the village children. She accompanied the 
 good cure on many of those errands of mercy 
 in which female aid and female sympathy are 
 necessary. She interceded between the baroness 
 and the poor, or the refractory of her vassals ; 
 whilst at his earnest request, in recompense for 
 his unwearied labours in her garden, she taught 
 Albert and Rosine writing and arithmetic. 
 They were both apt scholars ; and the boy, in 
 particular, possessed considerable abilities. He 
 had been chosen very young, on account of his 
 fine voice and good looks, to sing in the church, 
 which great honour had caused him to be no- 
 ticed and instructed, more than he otherwise 
 would, by the good cure, besides improving his 
 manners. He likewise played well upon his 
 rustic flageolet, and excelled in dancing. Clara 
 delighted to listen to his music, and to look on 
 his happy, blooming countenance ; so that, in- 
 sensibly, the greater part of his time was spent 
 with his sister, at the cottage, where his services 
 were endless. His father at first objected to 
 his absence from the baroness's farm; but 
 Katrine, who possessed some ambition, hoped 
 their son was destined to a higher office, and 
 persuaded her husband that the young Angloise 
 would, somehow, either in England or France, 
 i 6
 
 180 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 make his fortune, if she were not crossed, and 
 his education put a stop to. 
 
 With all these varied pursuits and employ- 
 ments, the thoughts of Clara still reverted to 
 her sister ; and she at last resolved to make an 
 old servant of Mrs. Hamilton's, on whom she 
 knew she could depend, acquainted with her 
 present abode, that she might through her hear 
 of the Osbournes, and transmit to Ellen a letter 
 from herself; in which she mentioned, that she 
 was well, and far happier than she deserved, 
 that their affairs were, she hoped, improving, 
 and that, at all events, if her life was spared, she 
 trusted to meet in England her beloved sister 
 soon after the return of Sir William to his own 
 home.
 
 181 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1 o Ellen this epistle proved a cordial, welcome 
 to her heart. Although not explanatory, its 
 report was on the whole favourable ; while its 
 style, simple and affectionate, denoted an agree- 
 able change in the sentiments of its writer. 
 She had left England with pleasure, hoping 
 their excursion would prevent her thoughts from 
 dwelling so frequently on her absent friend ; who, 
 having made another strenuous appeal to his 
 father for consent to love her, had received a 
 positive refusal, except on condition that Sir 
 William Osbourne would settle something hand- 
 some on her at his death. Ellen considered 
 this answer fatal to their hopes ; for she knew 
 Sir William, having different views for her, 
 would never agree to such a proposal, even if 
 her pride could have stooped to ask it. In vain 
 Frederic protested their joint incomes would 
 satisfy their moderate wishes : his father consi- 
 dered it impossible they could exist, and to his 
 fiat they were obliged to submit at present. 
 Ellen was likewise glad that their absence from 
 home would check the intercourse of Barbara 
 and Mr. Osbourne. Sir William had not be- 
 come at all more partial to her for her long
 
 182 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 visit, although his increased indisposition, and 
 the coldness he observed in the parties con- 
 cerned, had prevented his reverting lately to 
 his original scheme. 
 
 They had rambled among the French pro- 
 vinces, till he, disgusted with dirt and incon- 
 venience, returned to the neighbourhood of the 
 capital, and hired a chateau near Marly, over- 
 looking the Seine, where he resolved to pass 
 the remainder of the summer, removing into 
 Paris when the weather should prove cold ; and 
 here, while Clara was familiarising herself with 
 foreign society in rural life, Ellen witnessed its 
 no less favourable aspect among the rich and 
 the well-informed. 
 
 Sir William had brought with him letters of 
 introduction to many leading characters ; but 
 these would only have procured for them that dis- 
 tant notice, for which the French, inundated by 
 English of all descriptions, have exchanged the 
 ancient hospitality, had he not fortunately been 
 enabled to serve a family of rank, formerly refu- 
 gees in England. The Marquis of , 
 
 married to a lady of high birth, and great hau- 
 teur, had lived in splendour, and been attached 
 to the personal service of the Count d'Artois, 
 at the time the Revolution obliged him to escape 
 with his family and life only. In England they 
 took refuge, and there they received the small 
 pension allotted by our government ; but finding 
 this provision scanty, the marquis, accustomed, 
 like most of the noblesse of that period, to traffic,
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 183 
 
 became a dealer in coals near Oxford-street: 
 the eldest daughter, an elegant girl, with great 
 talent for music, gave lessons on the harp to 
 families of rank ; while the little Julie, when only 
 four years old, was adopted into the family of 
 an English nobleman, in order that she might 
 talk French with his children. The second re- 
 mained entirely with her parents; but finding 
 her life dull, from the narrowness of their in- 
 come, and the gloomy discontent of her mother, 
 took the first opportunity of escaping, by marry- 
 ing a respectable middle-aged citizen. Her 
 sister soon followed her example, uniting her- 
 self to a professional man of high reputation in 
 the musical world. 
 
 Years rolled on ! the very hope of change of 
 fortune had nearly vanished from the minds of 
 the marquis and marchioness ; while the young 
 ladies, become English in their habits and af- 
 fections, gave not a sigh to former greatness. 
 The marq'uis himself was a favourable specimen 
 of the ancient French nobleman. Commanding 
 in his person, he was dignified and gracious 
 in his manners ; supporting his altered cir- 
 cumstances with that cheerfulness and equa- 
 nimity, of which his countrymen afforded so 
 many examples : while few would have recog- 
 nised in the little fat marquise, walking with 
 arms a-kimbo up and down the streets in search 
 of bargains, that haughty lady, at whose com- 
 mand stood six carriages, at whose toilet,
 
 184 THE SCHOOL FOR SJSTEKS. 
 
 illuminated by seven wax-lights, stood three 
 obsequious waiting-maids ! 
 
 With his royal master the marquis was, 
 however, recalled to France, reinstated in his 
 old employment, and restored to most of his 
 possessions ; but an alloy to his happiness exist- 
 ed in the situation of his children. Camilla, the 
 eldest, was the contented mother of a large 
 family, not one of whom she could leave ; while 
 Louise, the second, with ambition rankling in 
 her heart, was united to a true John Bull, who 
 told her she must choose between him and her 
 parents, as he never would be transplanted, 
 among his grand relations, to be despised by 
 them: Julie therefore, alone, returned to her 
 country, and as she was handsome, she soon 
 became a demoiselle of consequence in the 
 Parisian world. Through her, and through 
 her father, Ellen had favourable opportunities 
 of not only seeing to perfection the works of 
 art, but likewise of enjoying what is called the 
 best society. She found it less gay than she 
 had expected, but still animated, intellectual, 
 and free from form. In the brilliant saloons of 
 the marchioness, and other ladies of rank, to 
 whom they were introduced, Ellen contented 
 herself with being a listener, among those, who 
 pique themselves on being the only nation in 
 the world, who understand how to talk , and 
 here, as elsewhere, she found it an acceptable, 
 quality. She was, however, shocked to observe
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 185 
 
 open infidelity often professed, and to see the 
 dangerous writings of Voltaire and Rousseau* 
 far from being held in detestation, as, at least 
 one cause of the revolution, in every one's hands, 
 even the young and inexperienced. This 
 dreadful spirit of forgetfulness and indifference 
 to the horrors, through which they had passed, 
 was only counterbalanced by the bigotry and 
 superstition of the court, and those denominated 
 the old school. Ellen felt grateful to Heaven, 
 that her lot had been cast in a country more 
 favorable to the growth of morality and reli- 
 gion ; an advantage far outweighing all that is 
 said of the inferiority of the climate, state of the 
 arts, &c. She doubted not, however, that in 
 France, as in England, the middle orders 
 would be found more true to piety and virtue ; 
 although it is in that class of society in partir 
 cular, that the hatred against the English is 
 found most universal and offensive. The man- 
 ners of Ellen gained ease, as well as polish, in 
 this high-bred circle ; but her heart wanted at- 
 tachments, and without these, no place could 
 long interest her. She looked forward, there- 
 fore, with pleasure to her return to that dear 
 country, which not only contained so many 
 valued friends, but which must always be most 
 consonant to the purity, cleanliness, and pa- 
 triotism, of an English woman ! that country, 
 where she now hoped to meet her sister ! 
 
 The health of Clara meantime continued ex- 
 cellent, and she saw summer withdraw from
 
 186 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 her lovely dwelling with regret. The busy 
 scene of the vintage, witnessed for the first time, 
 though not carried to great extent in her neigh- 
 bourhood, was delightful. To this had suc- 
 ceeded the gathering in, and universal thumping 
 of the hemp and flax, in which even the 
 youngest children assisted. Autumn, in this 
 part of France is peculiarly fine and protracted. 
 Its serene skies and changing woods had always 
 been grateful to Clara, who enjoyed in perfec- 
 tion that gift of Heaven, a real taste for the 
 beauties of nature. As winter approached, she 
 continued with less interruption her studies; 
 and when her little apartment was illuminated 
 by the cheerful blaze of her wood fire, the cure 
 and herself agreed few could be more comfort- 
 able. In the perusal of the Holy Scriptures, 
 read for pleasure and relaxation, not as a task, 
 she found, what they must ever afford to the 
 humble and earnest, wisdom, and consolation, 
 and hope. In this happy and enviable frame 
 of mind, her hour of trial arrived, when, as- 
 sisted only by the experienced Madame Louvet, 
 waited on by Katrine, she gave birth to a fine 
 little girl, whom she immediately resolved to 
 name after her sister. The baroness, how- 
 ever, whose kindness had known no intermis- 
 sion, and whose attention to her health and 
 comfort had, in this emergency, been unbound- 
 ed, when she heard the little stranger was a 
 female, announced her gracious intention of 
 answering for it at the font herself. Accord-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 187 
 
 ingly, as soon as circumstances would permit, 
 she was carried in her godmama's coach to 
 church, Madame Montolon standing proxy for 
 the baroness, and there admitted into Chris- 
 tian fellowship, by the good cure, as Adelaide 
 Ellen St. Aulaire: her nurse Katrine begged 
 Marie might be added for luck; but Clara 
 thought her child was already sufficiently dis- 
 tinguished; particularly as she intended her to 
 be baptized again in England. 
 
 The little mademoiselle soon became an ob- 
 ject of great interest and importance in the 
 village ; what was she then to her fond mother ? 
 Clara beheld her darling thrive, even beyond 
 her hopes, while spring, early and delightful 
 spring, brought forth again the charms of 
 St. Aulaire, and the cottage garden, in particu- 
 lar, shone, in unrivalled neatness, beauty, and 
 fragrance ; but with lengthening days, came the 
 recollection, that they must soon leave this 
 peaceful and lovely retreat, perhaps, to en- 
 counter the storms of a rough world. Summer 
 would restore to their country the family of Sir 
 William Osbourne ; and when Adelaide should 
 be old enough to encounter so long a journey, 
 Clara felt it would be her duty to introduce her 
 child to her family, and also, since even their 
 small supplies were precarious, to consider how 
 she was in future to be supported. She, how- 
 ever, settled with herself that the little girl 
 must run alone, before she could be able to 
 travel ; and as she was not of a temper to meet
 
 188 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 evil half way, she resdlved to enjoy her rustic 
 leisure while she could. Accompanied by Rosine, 
 now become an accomplished nurse, she some- 
 times borrowed the strong donkey of her good 
 neighbour, and mounting the wooden frame, on 
 which the French peasants travel so commo- 
 diously, with Adelaide in the basket, on the 
 other side, followed by the trusty Albert, or 
 occasionally accompanied by the good cure, 
 she explored some of the beautiful scenery of 
 the neighbourhood, or even reached the nearest 
 town, enjoying these first escapes from the mo- 
 notony of her own village, with nearly as much 
 glee as her young companions. The baroness, 
 indeed, had frequently pressed her to accom- 
 pany them in their airings ; but Clara, aware 
 she should be smothered with snuff, and incom- 
 moded by the animals, contrived to decline the 
 offered honor, even before she had a baby to 
 annoy them with. 
 
 Enjoying pure air and constant exercise, the 
 little Adelaide was strong, and grew so fast, 
 that although left to sprawl about in nearly un- 
 controlled liberty, instead of being " put for- 
 ward," her mama began to fear she would run 
 but too soon; when towards the close of the 
 summer, she heard through her faithful corre- 
 spondent, that the Osbournes were returned to 
 England, and gone down to Stoke as usual. 
 This intelligence decided Clara on writing to 
 her sister an account of all that had happened 
 to her ; which, she added, she had only been
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 189 
 
 prevented from doing before, by the fear of 
 appearing to force herself on the notice of the 
 Osbournes, by following them to a foreign 
 country. She concluded by informing her sis- 
 ter, that as her husband still seemed to wish her 
 not to join him at present, she had resolved, 
 with his concurrence, to do something towards 
 the support of herself and child, and on this 
 subject she begged her advice and opinion. 
 
 Ellen received with tears of mixed emotion 
 this unexpected communication: to hear that 
 Clara was not an alien from her native land 
 was much ; but to find she had renounced her 
 enthusiastic opinions, and become wise, from 
 the lessons of experience, was more. Her 
 heart yearned to embrace this recovered trea- 
 sure, as well as to welcome to her country a 
 little niece born under such peculiar circum- 
 stances. She immediately wrote to urge their 
 immediate return to England, offering to send 
 over any assistance for that purpose; but the 
 tender mother, now that she had relieved her 
 own mind, could not resolve to expose so young 
 an infant to the perils of the sea and land, and 
 conscious she was not losing her time, she re- 
 solved on remaining where she was till spring. 
 To this arrangement, the considerate but dis- 
 appointed Ellen agreed., promising, in the mean 
 time, to take her other plan into consideration. 
 
 In the consciousness that they were the last 
 she should spend in France, the autumn and 
 winter seemed short to Clara; and, as spring
 
 190 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 advanced, she began to make arrangements 
 for her departure. Madame St. Aulaire was 
 grieved and astonished she should think of 
 leaving a place where she had appeared so 
 happy ; but the cure, aware she was doing what 
 she thought her duty, said nothing of his own 
 regret, although to him her loss was great in- 
 deed. Clara wished to take with her Rosine, 
 to whom she had become much attached ; and 
 the affectionate girl was thrown into rapturous 
 joy by the proposal, till she recollected, that 
 in that case, she must leave her parents, and 
 above all her brother, in France ; at this idea 
 her tears returned, and she remained in dis- 
 tressing doubt and agitation, till Clara telling 
 her she would consult her father and mother, 
 provided she herself had no objection, went out 
 to seek them. Katrine, who always ruled the 
 family, however, grieved to lose her dear lady, 
 and her eldest daughter, immediately gave her 
 opinion, that as Rosine owed every thing to 
 Madame, she was bound to remain with her 
 as long as she was wanted ; while Clara gave 
 the good woman a solemn promise, not only 
 to.be kind and watchful over her child, but 
 to provide her with the means of returning 
 home, whenever she should wish it. 
 
 Rosine, in the mean time, held a long con- 
 ference with Albert, the result of which was, 
 her submitting with great calmness to her 
 mother's opinion, and even, to the dreadful
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 191 
 
 thought, of crossing the sea ; an object of which 
 she had imbibed the most terrific ideas. 
 
 Clara had taken leave, with tears of grati- 
 tude, of her kind friends at the chateau, pro- 
 mising to write to them twice a year, and if 
 ever she had the power, to bring Adelaide to 
 France again. The baroness had bestowed on 
 her young favorite a valuable cross, as a token 
 of her affection. Madame Montolon had added 
 her benediction. Madame Louvet and her 
 husband, had been profuse in their gifts of 
 whatever could be useful on the journey, and 
 eloquent in their good wishes ; when Clara, 
 with harassed spirits, resolving to take no more 
 leaves, returned to the cottage, and there found 
 loitering in the garden, Albert Dubois. At 
 first she supposed, he had been only taking 
 leave of his sister, but observing his anxious 
 and agitated countenance, she stopped to en- 
 quire if he were ill. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, madame," answered the eager 
 youth, " and I am sure I shall die, if you refuse 
 my earnest petition. Let me go with you," 
 added he with vehemence, " only to see you 
 safe in England. Indeed, dear madame, I 
 will be no expence to you, for I can walk to 
 Havre, where you are to stay two days, and I 
 have saved plenty of money to keep me on the 
 road, and to pay for the ship : you cannot, I 
 am sure you cannot, have the heart to object to 
 my following you, at humble distance, just " 
 
 " No, good Albert," said Clara, melted and
 
 192 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 overpowered by this unexpected attack ; " no, I 
 cannot refuse you, you shall go with me to 
 England ; and when we part there, it shall be 
 with a promise on my side, to send Tor you, as 
 soon as I can, among my friends, meet with a 
 situation suitable to your deserts : I grieve, 
 that prudence and economy forbid my retain- 
 ing your services myself." 
 
 Albert, with a countenance beaming with 
 smiles, kissed the hand of his kind mistress, 
 and hastened home, to inform his parents, and 
 look out his best apparel, in honour of this 
 important occasion, the first time of his leaving 
 his native province. He was a gay and simple 
 creature, in whom affection for his lady and 
 sister, were united with an ardent desire of 
 seeing the world ; he was too unsuspecting to 
 doubt for a moment the fulfilment of the 
 promise just made to him, and accordingly, 
 already saw himself, in idea, attired in splendid 
 livery, seated in state, on some gentleman's 
 coach-box; or, still more delightful, riding as 
 fast as possible, on horseback, as an avant- 
 courier. These and other enchanting antici- 
 pations rendered his night nearly sleepless, 
 and early in the morning he was at the cottage, 
 full of gravity and importance, to see to the 
 removal of the little baggage to the auberge, 
 where they were to meet the diligence; and 
 when Clara and the good cure arrived there, 
 they could not but admire the order in which 
 he had arranged himself and his convoy.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 193 
 
 When they had entered the house, Clara took 
 her child in her arms ; and involuntarily falling 
 on her knees, requested her kind friend's part- 
 ing blessing, and future prayers : he bestowed 
 it fervently, though with a faltering voice ; and 
 when Clara endeavoured to articulate her hope of 
 seeing him once more, he laid his arm on hers, 
 as if about to speak ; then murmuring, " Yes, 
 in heaven," abruptly departed. 
 
 Clara was deeply affected; but she was called 
 upon, almost immediately, to exertion, by the 
 arrival of the ponderous machine in which her- 
 self and her young companions were to take their 
 place, while Albert so contrived to ingratiate 
 himself with the conductor, as to obtain a station 
 behind, among the luggage. He had scarcely 
 lost sight of his native village, before Clara was 
 awakened from her painful reveries, by the 
 gladsome sounds of his harmonious voice; which, 
 to the great amusement of the travellers, alter- 
 nately with his flageolet, gave effect to the gay 
 and simple airs of his country, thus beguiling 
 the tedious length of a French journey. 
 
 The little party were received with mingled 
 pleasure and regret, by their warm-hearted 
 friend at Havre, and merely remaining with 
 her long enough to recover their fatigue, 
 for Clara was now sufficiently anxious to pro- 
 ceed, they took leave of France, and sailed for 
 England; where, after a favourable passage, which 
 quieted even Rosine's fears, they parted with 
 regret from their young protector, and pur- 
 
 K
 
 194 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 sued their way to London, where, at Clara's 
 particular request, a lodging was already pro- 
 vided for them in the New Road. 
 
 The pleasure of the sisters in meeting again, 
 after so long a separation, need not be described: 
 it was shared with generous satisfaction by Sir 
 William and Lady Osbourne, while the little 
 Adelaide excited great admiration ; she indeed 
 did credit to the air of France, and seemed to 
 have imbibed much of its gaiety and animation. 
 But however pressed by their kind friends to 
 remain in Harley Street, Clara persisted in 
 returning to her humble home, where she could 
 arrange her future plans at leisure ; and here 
 Ellen visited her the following day. The first 
 flush of joy at their reunion over, the sisters 
 anxiously perused each other's countenances, as 
 if to judge how time had treated each. That of 
 Clara was fresh and open indeed she had never 
 looked so well ; while on the interesting face of 
 Ellen hung the shade of anxiety, blended with 
 a degree of ill health. For this she accounted, 
 in answer to her sister's enquiries, by the length- 
 ened absence of Captain Trelawny, who con- 
 tinued to make known to her, through his sister, 
 his unaltered sentiments; while, as the confidant 
 of Barbara and Mr. Osbourne, she was placed in 
 an embarrassing and awkward situation. This 
 constant young lady had declined all the offers 
 made her, till her father, incensed at her obsti- 
 nacy, had treated her with great rigour, and now
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 195 
 
 threatened to send her entirely to an aunt, who 
 lived in Scotland. Sir William Osbourne's 
 health was rapidly declining; and beside his 
 nephew's great and habitual dread of displeasing 
 him at all times, both saw every thing depended 
 on delay and secresy now. Once in possession 
 of his uncle's fortune, Barbara thought her 
 father could make no possible objection to the 
 match ; though at present, she was equally cer- 
 tain, he would not even hear of it. In the pros- 
 pect of not having long to live, Sir William, 
 satisfied with the company and attentions of 
 Mr. Osbourne and Ellen, seemed to have become 
 indifferent to their future union ; but both, at- 
 tached to him from gratitude and habit, suffered 
 much from self-reproach at the idea of having 
 tacitly deceived him. 
 
 When Clara had duly sympathised in this 
 narration, and informed her sister of her own 
 hopes and fears, acquirements and sorrows, the 
 relation of which drew many tears from both, 
 Clara, true to her promise, requested Ellen's 
 aid in procuring a suitable situation for the 
 youthful Albert ; of which her sister did not 
 at all despair, when informed of his various 
 accomplishments. It was then settled, on ma- 
 ture deliberation, that the scheme of keeping a 
 school, which had been thought of, should 
 be given up, as attended with great uncertainty 
 and expense, particularly as it was still probable 
 they might be called to join Mr. Horton in 
 America, although the last accounts mentioned 
 K 2
 
 196 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 that the climate, which, like every thing else, had 
 been misrepresented, disagreed with his health. 
 With true magnanimity, the fond mother re- 
 solved to give up her child for the present to 
 the care of her aunt, and enter some respectable 
 family as governess. When this arrangement 
 was made known to Lady Osbourne, she en- 
 tirely approved it, having feared the return 
 of Clara would somehow deprive her of Ellen. 
 She, however, insisted that the whole party 
 should accompany her for the summer to Stoke ; 
 and as the roses had already begun to fade 
 from Adelaide's cheek, and Rosine, at first 
 astonished and overpowered by the magnificence 
 of London, had sighed after the country, in 
 which alone, she declared, she could breathe,, 
 all prepared with pleasure to obey her sum- 
 mons, although the London season was yet at 
 its height. 
 
 Determined not to encroach on the hospitality 
 of Sir William, Ellen, immediately on their 
 arrival, sought out the future home of her little 
 niece, who was soon established in a neat and 
 comfortable cottage adjoining the park, attended 
 by Rosine; but both under the superintendence 
 of a worthy widow, who had lost many children 
 of her own, and who, during the winter season, 
 acted as housekeeper at Stoke, removing into 
 the mansion-house, to superintend such of the 
 establishment as remained there. Here they 
 both became the favourites of the neighbour- 
 hood: and Rosine, who never had been made so
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 197 
 
 much of before, and who always called the 
 widow, " Mother," became so attached to those 
 around her, that the threat of sending her back 
 to France was all that was required to keep 
 her in subjection. Ellen likewise sought among 
 her richer neighbours a situation for Albert; and 
 Clara had the gratification, before she returned 
 to town, of seeing him received into a large and 
 well-regulated family, where his duty was to 
 attend the young gentlemen and their tutor, 
 and where his natural quickness and various 
 accomplishments rendered him such a favourite, 
 that, united to his invariably good conduct, they 
 raised him eventually to the important and 
 desired office of travelling valet to his young 
 masters ; thus enabling him to return with 
 eclat to his native country, and to glad his 
 parents' hearts with the view of his consequence. 
 Meantime a friend of Lady Osbourne's, who 
 had long been declining in health, died, and left 
 behind her not only an inconsolable husband, 
 but three young children. The maiden sister 
 of Mr. Maitland removed to his house, in 
 order to supply in a degree, the irreparable loss 
 her nieces had sustained ; but as she possessed 
 neither the ability nor the inclination to super- 
 intend their education, she felt the necessity of 
 engaging a colleague, although she had, from 
 some bad specimens, imbibed a general pre- 
 judice against governesses, as persons always 
 artful, and manoeuvring to catch any single man 
 with whom they might live. When Lady Os- 
 3
 
 198 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 bourne, therefore, proposed to her to engage 
 Mrs. Horton, more as a friend and companion 
 than a governess, mentioning that she was 
 already married, desired no salary, was not 
 fond of dress or going out, and had been 
 partly educated in France, Mrs. Elizabeth 
 Maitland, to whom the details of a family were 
 equally new and fatiguing, rejoiced at her good 
 fortune in meeting with a young person so 
 every way eligible, readily promised to do all 
 in her power to render her comfortable, and to 
 agree to her spending, twice a year, some weeks 
 of her time with her sister and child. Mr. Mait- 
 land resided entirely in London, being a pru- 
 dent merchant ; and as the mania for education 
 had not infected either him or his sister, and 
 they lived where masters were easily procured, 
 it had never occurred to them that any one 
 person was to undertake to teach at once every 
 virtue, accomplishment, and good habit, even 
 although a high salary rewarded the herculean 
 task. 
 
 Thankful at the prospect of entering a family 
 so amiable and so rational, Clara resigned her- 
 self to the hard necessity of tearing herself from 
 her own child, in order to devote her time and 
 talents to the offspring of others, without mur- 
 muring ; aware that the little Adelaide would 
 possess, in her pleasant and healthy abode, ad- 
 vantages she could not have enjoyed in London, 
 had circumstances even permitted her accom- 
 panying her mother there. Naturally affection-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 199 
 
 ate and kind-hearted, she soon attached herself 
 to her young and interesting pupils ; while in 
 their good aunt she found that Christian friend 
 of which her inexperience had such need. 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Maitland indeed, although some- 
 what' helpless in the things of this world, owing 
 to delicate health, and to a life passed in retire- 
 ment, was a sincere, humble, and enlightened 
 follower of the religion she professed, a woman 
 abounding in good works, yet studiously con- 
 cealing them, charitable in her opinions as 
 well as her actions, and free from those pecu- 
 liarities commonly attached to the idea of a 
 single lady of a certain age. While Clara, 
 therefore, turned the energy of her active mind, 
 to the most useful and important of all earthly 
 employments, Mrs. Elizabeth Maitland, with 
 benevolent interest, watched over and corrected 
 those errors to which her peculiar situation had 
 exposed the young instructress ; and thus, in 
 the endearing exchange of benefits received and 
 imparted, both parties were thankful and con- 
 tented ; while time, in its gradual but rapid 
 flight, seemed reluctant to bring the long-talked- 
 of, long-expected, but not greatly desired, sum- 
 mons to America. 
 
 K 4
 
 200 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 J^LLEN was relieved from all present anxiety 
 concerning her sister; while her little niece, to 
 whom she every day became more attached, 
 improved almost beyond her hopes: yet was 
 her heart the prey of anxiety, for herself and 
 for her thoughtless friend. Mr. Osbourne and 
 Barbara were privately married ; and circum- 
 stances seemed likely to make their imprudence 
 known, sooner than they could have wished. 
 Frederic Trelawny was in active service, ex- 
 posed in India to the dangers of war and bad 
 climate. Her mind was haunted with the most 
 gloomy anticipations of his fate, though her 
 fervent trust in Providence enabled her to leave 
 her lover and herself to the disposal of that 
 Almighty Power who knew what was best for 
 both. Hence she appeared composed and 
 'cheerful ; perhaps because hope yet lingered to 
 whisper he might be spared. If this had been 
 the case, how must the shock have been in- 
 creased, when one morning, taking up the 
 newspaper as usual, she saw the name of 
 Captain Frederic Trelawny, among the brave, 
 the lamented, the slain, in the hazardous 
 engagement of !
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 201 
 
 For a time she was stunned, overpowered ; 
 but tears at last came to her relief. And after 
 secluding herself from all but God, for a short 
 time, she again rejoined the family, resigned, 
 although afflicted; for she had found the true 
 and only source of consolation. But Lady Os- 
 bourne, aware, for the first time, of the depth 
 and constancy of her attachment, felt how 
 severely she had been wounded; and as she was 
 not particularly partial to a dull, any more than 
 a sick companion, persuaded her to change the 
 scene, and pay her long-promised visit to her 
 friends in Devonshire. All unpleasant recol- 
 lections of Edward had faded from the mind 
 of Ellen; and as her affections, disappointed 
 in one quarter, turned with redoubled tender- 
 ness towards others, she resolved, although 
 reluctant to go so far from Adelaide, on revisit- 
 ing the scenes of her youth, not sorry to leave 
 the denouement of Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne's his- 
 tory to be made known in her absence. 
 
 Mr. Montague, happy in the bosom of an 
 affectionate family, heard, without emotion, of 
 the approach of her concerning whom he now 
 felt only brotherly interest, heightened by the 
 knowledge of what she had recently suffered ; 
 while Caroline, who secretly considered the fate 
 of Frederic a retaliation on her former conduct 
 towards Edward, prepared to pour the balm of 
 sympathy and friendship on wounds time only 
 could entirely heal : but neither of them were 
 prepared for the change they discovered in the 
 K 5
 
 202 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 once blooming Ellen, nor could they entirely 
 conceal the shock it occasioned them. Still 
 delicate and interesting, she would yet have 
 been admired by those who had not known 
 her in her youthful prime ; but when the un- 
 happy news of Frederic's fate arrived, she re- 
 solved never to think of marriage again, but to 
 seek her happiness in being useful to, and 
 witnessing that of, others. 
 
 The menage of Caroline would have excited 
 envy in a less well-regulated mind : her father 
 still lived, although he had resigned his living 
 to his son. His green old age was indeed a 
 refreshing sight to Ellen, accustomed to see it 
 less happily spent, less honourably distinguished. 
 Edward and Caroline looked well, and nearly 
 as young as when she last had seen them : proofs 
 of the becoming quality of a rational country- 
 life. They had two fine and healthy boys, and 
 Mrs. Montague was expecting another confine- 
 ment ; yet her warm heart, unchilled by even 
 family selfishness, retained its lively interest in 
 the concerns of others, more especially in those 
 of her earliest and favourite friend. Happily 
 settled herself, she was mortified that Ellen re- 
 mained single; but when she heard that it washer 
 decided resolution to continue so, she combated 
 the determination with all the eloquence in 
 her power. " Indeed, dear Caroline," said 
 Ellen, " my choice is not the result of romance 
 or disappointment; since, although I would, had 
 I leaven permitted, have made it the study of my
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 203 
 
 life to return, by unceasing care and affection, the 
 disinterested attachment of Frederic Trelawny, 
 I never felt even for him what is called violent 
 love, but rather a tender, grateful friendship: 
 and now I am too old to begin to attach myself 
 seriously to any man ; old, not in years, but in 
 constitution, in knowledge of the world of 
 which I have seen too much. The illusions 
 necessary to what is called happiness in this 
 life, are with me dispei'sed; while the impression 
 of death, and separation, seems stamped on all 
 earthly things, from my own frequent and sad 
 experience." 
 
 Caroline sighed, as she mentally confessed 
 the anxieties of married life were many ; while 
 the remark of her friend recalled to her recol- 
 lection the grand drawbacks to her own felicity 
 the uncertain health of her beloved husband, 
 and the advanced age of her respected father. 
 
 " On one condition, dear Ellen," answered 
 she, starting from the melancholy reverie into 
 which she had fallen, " I agree to your plan ; 
 that is, should circumstances, at some future 
 time, induce you to leave your present home, 
 you promise to return to me, or at least to 
 this neighbourhood, that whether our future 
 lives be long or short, fortunate or unhappy, 
 we may at least divide the one, and assuage 
 the other, by the invaluable intercourse and 
 consolations of friendship." 
 
 Ellen could not answer; but she gave her 
 hand, smiling through tears that owed their 
 K 6
 
 204- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 origin to many indefinable emotions; while both 
 understood the compact to be sealed. 
 
 The cottage at Ashford, where Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt died, had been her own, and was at 
 present part of the portion of Ellen, as the 
 eldest sister. It was let to a respectable tenant; 
 but when the friends, soon after the above con- 
 versation, accompanied by the children, . took 
 their accustomed walk, their steps turned, as a 
 natural consequence of it, towards the lovely 
 spot where they had passed together so many 
 happy hours. Caroline suggested how it might 
 be improved ; and Ellen resolved it should only 
 be tenanted from year to year, for the future. 
 She longed, indeed, to take possession of it now; 
 for though most fondly attached to Lady Os- 
 bourne, she disliked exceedingly the life of 
 incessant gaiety, bustle, and change, in which 
 that lady delighted. But conscious how much 
 the happiness of that generous friend depended 
 on her society she resolved to return to 
 the home where Providence seemed to have 
 fixed her habitation ; and while she remained its 
 inmate, to struggle against the retired and in- 
 dolent turn of her natural disposition, conform- 
 ing herself, as far as possible, to the taste of 
 those to whom she owed so much. 
 
 The reception which awaited her in Harley 
 Street amply rewarded her resolution. Her 
 value seemed only increased by her temporary 
 absence ; while, to her infinite satisfaction, she 
 found Barbara graciously admitted as an ac-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 205 
 
 knc-wledged member of the family. Her 
 situation, and the improved state of Sir Wil- 
 liam's health, had at last driven Mr. Osbourne 
 to the absolute necessity of making the im- 
 portant confession; and whether his uncle's 
 sagacity had previously suspected the fact, or 
 that his excessive agitation had given room 
 to expect something more degrading, Sir Wil- 
 liam had expressed neither anger nor sur- 
 prise ; but after coolly enquiring why there 
 had been any concealment, and rather sar- 
 castically apologizing for not having died out 
 of their way, as he supposed they had ex- 
 pected, he told Charles he should immedi- 
 ately call on Mr. Harcourt, and endeavour to 
 make some arrangements with him. Barbara, 
 who had passed the morning which was to de- 
 cide her fate in alternate hope and fear, had 
 foreseen this visit; and flying to the carriage 
 which had long been awaiting her orders, she 
 resolved to terminate her dreadful suspense by 
 immediately going to Harley Street. Here 
 she found Lady Osbourne, who always did 
 handsomely, what she did at all, and who was 
 really very partial to her, prepared to welcome 
 her as a beloved niece ; while Charles, scarcely 
 recovered from the overpowering effects of 
 his joy, was all tenderness and rapture. Bar- 
 bara was happy too, relieved from half the 
 weight of anxiety which had long oppressed 
 her. But she yet trembled when she thought 
 of her father; for she knew his proud, unbend-
 
 206 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 ing character better than her husband, who, 
 assured of the consent of his uncle, thought no 
 one could object to an alliance so sanctioned ; 
 but he was mistaken. Sir William returned, 
 agitated by concealed rage ; and merely telling 
 his new niece she might spare herself the 
 trouble of returning home, since her father had 
 given orders she should not be admitted, he 
 abruptly retired to his own room, where even 
 his lady dared not follow him. 
 
 Mr. Harcourt was one of those many fathers 
 who indulge their children in every Jittle thing 
 which does not affect their own convenience, 
 and then expect those very children to have no 
 will of their own in important matters. His 
 pride had calculated on his only child's ad- 
 vancement in rank ; and he could not forgive 
 her having disappointed him. But as no rational 
 objection existed against her present choice, 
 except the clandestine mode in which it had 
 been carried on, he chose to pretend that Sir 
 William had always known, and purposely 
 connived at it; and that Ellen had been the con- 
 venient go-between to all parties. This un- 
 founded accusation had of course been repelled 
 with the indignation it deserved ; and the two 
 gentlemen had parted in deadly rage against 
 each other : Sir William retorting the charge 
 of connivance, by asserting that his opponent's 
 opposition was only a manoeuvre to save his 
 money ; and Mr. Harcourt declaring he would
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 207 
 
 marry again, and never see his daughter's face, 
 or give her a shilling. 
 
 Mrs. Osbourne, thus thrown on the mercy 
 of her husband's family, was treated by them 
 with more generosity than her imprudence had 
 deserved. Sir William piqued himself on taking 
 care of her; and as her attachment and her 
 sorrows had subdued her once high spirit, 
 he really liked her better than he had ever 
 expected. They were settled in a comfort- 
 able small house near their kind relations, 
 with whom the greater part of their time was 
 passed ; and here Barbara, whose health and 
 nerves had been greatly shaken by all she had 
 suffered since her concealed marriage, was ex- 
 pecting, with dread and anxiety, her confine- 
 ment. Ellen soothed her fears, and sought 
 to inspire her with confidence in Heaven : but 
 Barbara declared she had no right to expect 
 any aid from that quarter, to which she had 
 never looked when in health and prosperity ; 
 and her friend was obliged, again and again, to 
 enforce that true and scriptural doctrine, that 
 we have never any thing like a right to the 
 smallest mercy from our own imperfect righ- 
 teousness, all being the free grace of our Al- 
 mighty Father, accorded to us for the sake, 
 and through the intercession of his Son ; who, 
 unlike earthly patrons, is always ready to re- 
 ceive our allegiance, even though we only turn 
 to him when all else has failed us.
 
 208 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 After much tedious suffering, Mrs. Osbourne 
 gave birth to a boy, who, from the day of his 
 birth, harassed the feelings of his parents, 
 by his constant state of pain and weakness : 
 his mother, in particular, informed by her own 
 heart of what we feel towards our offspring, 
 considered the state of her child a judgment 
 on her deceit and disobedience towards her 
 father. She had made various attempts to 
 soften his displeasure, but he had constantly 
 refused to see or hear from her ; and when her 
 little William was about three months old, she 
 saw in the papers a long account of his mar- 
 riage to a young lady about her own age, and 
 one of her favourite associates. 
 
 Hoping this event at least would render his 
 feelings more accessible, she wrote again, as soon 
 as she had recovered the severe shock the not 
 unexpected circumstance had occasioned her; 
 and enclosing this letter in a kind note to her new 
 mamma, she anticipated its resultwith something 
 like hope : but it only shared the fate of its pre- 
 decessors ; and she desisted, though with heart- 
 felt regret, from farther importunity. In her 
 peculiar circumstances, she could not but ob- 
 serve the propriety of endeavouring to please 
 Lady Osbourne ; and as that lady, on the 
 strength of Sir William's recovery, went out, 
 and received company more than ever, Bar- 
 bara, though with a sick heart, resolved on 
 exerting herself, and even leaving her suffering 
 baby, to accompany her aunt into those circles
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 209 
 
 where she had once shone herself. But Mrs. 
 Osbourne, at present in the shade, was a per- 
 son so entirely different from the gay, the 
 obliging, the rich Miss Harcourt, that some 
 people could not comprehend their iden- 
 tity; and others were cool or sarcastic, or, 
 worse than either, condescending. Here, too, 
 she had sometimes the misery of encountering 
 the admired Mrs. Harcourt, splendidly dressed, 
 conceited, and affected. She just recognised 
 her quondam friend ; but declared, under pre- 
 sent circumstances, she could do no more. 
 
 Exposed to all these cutting mortifications, 
 Barbara, supported by her friend, endured 
 them with sweetness andj dignity. Ellen 
 thought she was bound, in consideration of the 
 family into which she had married, to keep up, 
 as far as possible, her own consequence ; and as 
 Mrs. Osbourne felt sensibly that she had brought 
 them on herself, she never allowed herself to 
 complain. But when at two years old, the 
 darling child to whom she had devoted so 
 many sleepless nights, and watchful days, was 
 taken from her, then she considered her punish- 
 ment accomplished; and divine grace enabled 
 her to bow to, and survive the afflicting dispen- 
 sation. During this interval, she had acquired 
 a brother and sister ; while her father, proud of 
 his handsome wife, and future heir, seemed 
 indifferent to the sorrows of his once idol- 
 ized daughter, and to the loss of his only grand- 
 child.
 
 210 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 About this time, Mrs. Elizabeth Mordaunt 
 died; and in her will she bequeathed to her 
 two nieces, Ellen anil Clara, 1000 pounds each, 
 as a proof she did not resent their declin- 
 ing to solace her old age by living with her. 
 This unexpected bequest made Ellen still more 
 anxious to retire into the country, where she 
 could now live with comfort. Adelaide was 
 growing old enough to require constant in- 
 struction ; while the roving habits of Lady Os- 
 bourne, who liked to be always travelling, 
 caused them to be so little at Stoke, that her 
 fond aunt scarcely saw any thing of her little 
 Adelaide, who was necessarily left to the mercy 
 of her kind nurses. But Ellen knew she 
 was well, and taken care of; and aware how 
 much opposition her plan of leaving them 
 would encounter both from Sir William and 
 his lady, she resolved to await a favourable 
 season for proposing it. Nor would she ever 
 had possessed resolution to persist in it herself, 
 had she not felt that in Barbara they possessed 
 a friend able and willing to supply her place. 
 She had hoped, at first, that Clara would have 
 been inclined to accompany her into Devon- 
 shire; but she, perceiving that the health of 
 Mrs. Maitland declined rapidly, attached to 
 her and the children, resolved to remain where 
 she was, till Miss Maitland was old enough to 
 supply in a degree her place, which, as she 
 was now fourteen, and very steady, it was 
 thought she would be able to do in about a
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 211 
 
 year; after which, or before, if any change 
 happened in the family, she was to rejoin her 
 child and sister. 
 
 Nearly a twelvemonth had elapsed since the 
 important bequest, when Lady Osbourne, ob- 
 serving that her niece's spirits drooped, and that 
 there seemed no prospect of the loss over which 
 she still mourned being replaced, proposed, in 
 order to give a new turn to her ideas, that they 
 should undertake another expedition abroad, 
 visiting this time Switzerland and Italy, and 
 taking with them Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne, 
 neither of whom had ever been on the Continent. 
 Ellen, who would, under any circumstances, 
 have dreaded the fatigue of such a plan, availed 
 herself of it to open her wishes and intentions 
 to her kind friend ; but Lady Osbourne, as she 
 had expected, opposed it vehemently, calling 
 her cruel and unkind, for even thinking of it. 
 When Ellen represented that her indifferent 
 health required quiet and country air, and 
 Adelaide, now six years old, care and instruc- 
 tion, her ladyship was ready to promise that 
 she should go out no more than she wished, 
 and to offer to receive Adelaide into the house : 
 but Ellen knew this warmth would subside, and 
 had too often felt herself de trop in the family 
 to think of bringing another intruder into it; 
 and as she was as firm in her purpose, as 
 gentle in her manners, and was, beside, aided 
 by Sir William, who secretly thought her 
 company might be dispensed with, and Barbara
 
 212 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 brought to live with them, in her place, she 
 gained at last her point ; and it was settled, that 
 when they departed for the Continent, she should 
 take possession of her own cottage. 
 
 And now, that opposition was withdrawn, she 
 was ready, with the natural perverseness of hu- 
 man nature, to regret that it was so, and to 
 fancy she was taking a step ungrateful and un- 
 wise. The chain of habit and affection, alike 
 bound her to Lady Osbourne; while, in the 
 prospect of leaving them, she forgot the dis- 
 agreeables with which she had so often been 
 annoyed, or remembered them only to be cer- 
 tain they would be counterbalanced by others, 
 where she was going. Her friends, too, uni- 
 versally blamed her, representing how much 
 she, who had been accustomed to affluence and 
 luxury, and who was of so generous a temper, 
 would feel the difference, when living on a 
 small income, burdened with the care of a 
 child. Those who had believed she was 
 looking out for a good legacy, astonished at 
 their mistake, imagined various mysterious 
 causes for her secession ; and others con- 
 nected with the family, who had already trans- 
 ferred to Mrs. Osbourne part of the jealousy 
 they had once borne her, alarmed at the proba- 
 ble influence of the new favourite, joined Lady 
 Osbourne in wishing her stay. To the latter 
 of these classes, Ellen sought not to explain or 
 justify her conduct; but to 'the former, she 
 represented, beside what she had already ad-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 213 
 
 vanced, that, naturally simple in her tastes, and 
 moderate in her wishes, she had contracted few 
 adventitious wants; while, on the contrary, from 
 living long among the rich, she had seen much 
 of the trouble and alloy which accompany 
 wealth, and was enabled to judge of its in- 
 adequacy, to bestow happiness, whereas, in a 
 life, passed in leisure, and retirement in the 
 country, near attached friends, varied by a 
 useful and interesting employment, enlivened 
 by a beloved companion, she saw the prospect 
 of as much enjoyment as, with her shattered 
 health, she could reasonably expect in this 
 world. 
 
 It now only remained that she should ar- 
 range with Rosine for her removal with her 
 little charge ; but Rosine, attached to the neigh- 
 bourhood where she had been so happy, where 
 she had long had so many admirers, was evi- 
 dently indisposed to quit it ; and after struggling 
 some time against the hard necessky of either 
 leaving all she loved at Stoke, or quitting the 
 child of whom she had been so fond, love 
 at last prevailed, and she condescended to 
 choose, from among her rustic adorers, the gar- 
 dener of Sir William Osbourne, as her future 
 lord and master; and as the election was, in 
 every point of view, a prudent one, her mar- 
 riage was celebrated in the presence of the 
 family, and herself, loaded with presents, in- 
 stalled into her own house, before the departure 
 of her mistress to her future habitation.
 
 214- 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IHE heart-breaking sorrow of parting over, 
 Ellen and her little charge arrived at Ash- 
 ford parsonage, where they were rapturously 
 welcomed by Caroline and her children, and 
 most affectionately greeted by its graver master. 
 Under the sanction of such protection, she 
 soon after took possession of her own cottage, 
 the comfort and quiet of which were grateful 
 to her shattered spirits ; and here arrived at a 
 rather ominous age, she resolved, with God's 
 permission, to end her days where her earliest 
 years had passed. Her neighbours lost no 
 time in paying their compliments to her; as- 
 tonished that any one could leave the gaieties 
 of London, the elegancies of fashion, to bury 
 themselves alive in the country, they imagined 
 various and not very charitable causes, for such 
 a mysterious proceeding. But among the fore- 
 most of those who sought, from motives of real 
 kindness, the honour of being useful to her, was 
 her mother's old servant, Margaret. 
 
 " Oh, Miss," said she, " it breaks my heart 
 to see you come back among us in this poor 
 way, when I always told the neighbours you
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 215 
 
 were born to be a great lady; and though / 
 know well enough it is your own fault, you 
 did not marry a lord or a barrowknight, there is 
 no persuading them you have not been crossed 
 in love, which makes you look so pale and 
 poorly : indeed, some of the folks, do take upon 
 
 them to say " 
 
 " I make it a rule, good Margaret," inter- 
 rupted Ellen, " never, it I can possibly help it, 
 to listen to what is said against others, or my- 
 self; but if I am, unluckily, obliged to do so, I 
 always consider the retailer of the slander as 
 the person against whom my anger is to be 
 directed ; as, without them, I might never have 
 heard it; besides that it looks as if they had 
 pleasure in repeating it : so now let me know, 
 whether you will undertake the office of waiting 
 on me, and taking care of Adelaide." 
 
 " O to be sure, Ma'am," answered her rather 
 mortified listener, " though Miss is only Mrs. 
 Horton's child ; I wish to my heart it had been 
 your own, and our good parson the father of it. 
 
 You know I always said " 
 
 " Once for all," said Miss Mordaunt gravely, 
 " I forbid all allusions to the past; when you 
 have lived with me some time, you will, I 
 hope, have no reason to doubt my being as 
 happy, though an old maid, as I should have 
 been as an old wife, or even widow." 
 
 Margaret sighed, and shook her head ; and 
 Ellen having arranged her simple household, 
 prepared for what she had to endure, from
 
 216 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the curiosity and ill-suppressed triumph of the 
 matrons of her neighbourhood, who had con- 
 trived to get off their two or three daughters, 
 as they insinuated, without the assistance of 
 grand relations, or a journey to London ; and 
 the bustling importance of the daughters them- 
 selves, anxious to introduce to their contemporary 
 their fine children, and to make a parade of the 
 cares of a family, from which she was exempt- 
 ed. But Ellen, though she easily saw through 
 their littleness, received all with unvarying 
 sweetness, congratulated the mothers, admired 
 the children, and doubted not their anxieties 
 were repaid by the superior interest attached to 
 married life. 
 
 She was herself too inwardly and unaffect- 
 edly contented with her lot to be solicitous 
 what others thought of it ; and indeed, as Mar- 
 garet afterwards observed, " since I suppose 
 there must be old maids in the world, perhaps 
 it's as well my mistress should be one, for she 
 never did take much to the gentlemen ; and she 
 does, to be sure, employ and amuse herself so, 
 it is a pleasure to see her." 
 
 Neither Margaret, nor the other good people 
 of Ashford, perhaps, understood the real source 
 of that which they could not but admire. 
 The sunshine of Ellen's mind, arose from her 
 unvarying trust in Heaven, which caused her not 
 only to be perfectly convinced her situation was 
 that best suited to her particular case, but like- 
 wise enabled her to live without anxiety for the
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 217 
 
 future fate, either of herself or those she loved. 
 " She was careful for nothing, but in every 
 thing, with prayer and supplication, she made 
 her requests known unto God," leaving it to His 
 almighty wisdom to grant them or not, as He 
 judged best. In leaving the house of her dear 
 Lady Osbourne, she ceased not to take the 
 most affectionate interest in her bodily and 
 spiritual welfare ; and in her frequent letters to 
 Barbara, who, she had the comfort of knowing, 
 was equally aware with herself of the incalcu- 
 lable importance of the latter, they, like Chris- 
 tian friends, took counsel together, for her 
 comfort and benefit in every respect. 
 
 Soon after the departure of Miss Mordaunt 
 from London, Clara received intelligence of her 
 husband's death ; he had long been declining, 
 and disappointment and fatigue had accelerated 
 his fate : as all his property was vested in stock 
 and effects for which buyers were not easily 
 to be found, it did not seem probable, that 
 much would return to his widow and child ; 
 but his brother, who was on the spot, promised 
 to do all in his power, on their behalf; while 
 Clara, who had been weaned from him by 
 his absence, and who had long Ceased to ex- 
 pect much profit from his speculations, after 
 the first shock had subsided, returned to her 
 accustomed avocations as usual, thankful that 
 she was not left to struggle through difficulty 
 and danger in a foreign land But Ellen, now 
 that her little niece had lost one parent, con- 
 L
 
 218 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 sidered her more particularly her own ; and as 
 she intended that she should, after her death, 
 inherit all she possessed ; and since she had full 
 authority from her sister, who protested that 
 however rich she had been herself, she should 
 have chosen Ellen the instructress of her child, 
 Miss Mordaunt resolved to educate her as her 
 own, liberally, but as a Christian, as an heir 
 of immortality. 
 
 And few women could have been better 
 qualified for the task. She possessed an even 
 temper, with great self command. She was, as 
 the French say, " between the two ages," suffi- 
 ciently old to have gained experience, suffi- 
 ciently young, not to have forgotten the feelings 
 of youth. Her love of children, and habit of 
 observation, had enabled her to remark and 
 compare the different systems pursued among 
 her friends, the result of which was a scheme, 
 simple, practical, and in the end successful. 
 
 Having seen so often the folly of attempting 
 too much, she resolved not to fall into that 
 now common error, and considering how many 
 years her young pupil had before her, and 
 the uncertainty whether she even lived to grow 
 up, she determined not to destroy the enjoy- 
 ment of her early youth by unnecessary appli- 
 cation, or needless restraint, any more than to 
 endanger her future welfare, by injudicious 
 indulgence now. 
 
 Her first and principal care, therefore, was 
 to impress on Adelaide's mind habits of obe-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 219 
 
 dience, and attention to what she was about. 
 For this purpose, her lessons were very short, 
 provided she was attentive; if otherwise, the 
 instruction was suspended, and she was sent 
 for double the allotted time, into a room, where 
 she was left, without any means of employ- 
 ment. Deeply impressed with the importance 
 of teaching children to think of one thing at a 
 time, and giving their minds to the one thing 
 on which they are employed, Miss Mordaunt 
 laboured by every art of reward and punish- 
 ment, to inculcate in her niece this valuable 
 habit ; and as she was naturally a very lively 
 and volatile child, and had hitherto been al- 
 lowed to run wild, it was the more difficult ; 
 but this very circumstance giving her a par- 
 ticular dislike to confinement, especially by 
 herself, and her aunt's perseverance taking care 
 the penalty should always follow the offence, 
 it was at last tolerably accomplished. She was 
 never permitted to suppose she was obliging 
 her aunt, by acquiring useful and necessary 
 information ; on the contrary, she was taught 
 to receive it gratefully, and accomplishments 
 were only imparted as a matter of favour and 
 reward, or at her own earnest request. What- 
 ever she saw valued at the Parsonage, she 
 longed to acquire. Herbert had a taste for 
 drawing, he loved music, he danced beautifully. 
 All these, though not the essentials of education, 
 Ellen wished her to learn, in order that she 
 might possess agreeable resources for filling 
 L 2
 
 220 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 up her own time, and be enabled to amuse 
 others : but she was made to learn every thing 
 thoroughly, as far as she went. In music, she 
 was kept to the rudiments three times the 
 usual period, nor suffered to attempt a tune 
 till quite familiar with her notes, time, &c., a 
 salutary exercise for her patience, as well as 
 of great assistance towards her future progress, 
 which, however, Miss Mordaunt did not intend 
 should ever proceed farther than to enable her 
 to play light and pleasing airs, and to accom- 
 pany her own agreeable voice. 
 
 In regard to drawing, after being long kept 
 to strait lines, and simple forms, she was en- 
 couraged to copy whatever she saw before her ; 
 by which method her hand acquired steadiness 
 and freedom, her eye correctness and truth. 
 The nicer rules of this difficult art were not 
 imparted till she was many years older. Danc- 
 ing was prefaced by learning how to walk; 
 after which she joined the Montagues, and 
 other children of the neighbourhood, in their 
 weekly lesson, from a distant master ; and this 
 was to all, but to Adelaide in particular, who 
 soon bore the bell, a general holiday. 
 
 French, now become so necessary, she learned 
 early, and well$ assisted by her former habit 
 of always hearing it from Rosine. In this, and 
 in drawing, Miss Mordaunt extended her in- 
 struction to Herbert and Charles; while in 
 return, Adelaide was permitted to join them 
 in acquiring writing, arithmetic, and astronomy,
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 221 
 
 in all which Herbert was himself her principal 
 instructor. 
 
 But as these were taught by the same 
 gradual process, a large portion of time still 
 remained for exercise and amusement. They 
 had all gardens, and vied with each other in 
 keeping them neat and well stocked. Herbert 
 and Charles assisted Adelaide in the laborious 
 part of hers, while she in return arranged their 
 seeds, and watered their roots. Miss Mor- 
 daunt considered the love of flowers an innocent 
 and rational source of amusement, and there- 
 fore gave to her niece an additional piece of 
 ground, allotted to mere ornament. Into this 
 she was encouraged to admit some of the 
 beautiful, but disregarded inhabitants of the 
 fields and woods, which leading her to wish to 
 know something of their properties, uses, &c., 
 led to the introduction of botany, as well as 
 practical gardening. 
 
 Adelaide possessed naturally much of the 
 gay carelessness of her mother's disposition; 
 but the unceasing care of her aunt added solid- 
 ity, reflection, and consideration for others. 
 Yet her rule appeared, to slight observers, a 
 very easy one: thinking it a great evil that 
 education should be attended with so much 
 bustle and parade as is now generally the case, 
 every thing in a family giving way to " the 
 children," by which their opinion of their own 
 consequence must naturally be increased, Miss 
 Mordaunt contrived, always, when she had 
 L 3
 
 222 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 friends staying in her house, to be at leisure 
 to devote herself to them, yet without ne- 
 glecting Adelaide. On these occasions, she 
 entered her aunt's room sufficiently early to 
 have two hours' instruction before breakfast, 
 after which she was expected to finish her tasks 
 by herself; Miss Mordaunt thinking we should 
 be early accustomed to trust to bur own re- 
 sources, not needing to have always some one 
 jogging on us. When her regular business 
 was gone through, she joined the party with 
 her needle-work, taking care not to be idle 
 over it, lest she should be forbidden joining the 
 two boys when they were at liberty. 
 
 At night her aunt always went to her, before 
 she was asleep, and then it was that she imme- 
 diately perceived whether she had behaved 
 well or otherwise, during the day. Miss Mor- 
 daunt's lectures were as short as her lessons, 
 but they were impressive ; and when Adelaide 
 begged forgiveness of some fault, which scarcely 
 seemed to have been remarked at the time it 
 was committed, she was always referred to that 
 higher tribunal before which we must all be 
 judged, and instructed to pray not only for 
 pardon now, but for divine assistance, to enable 
 her to avoid the same error for the future. 
 
 Truth, strict and unexaggerated truth, was 
 likewise inflexibly exacted ; and as slight pu- 
 nishment followed offences, immediately con- 
 fessed, Adelaide never dreamt of concealing 
 them ; but her aunt watched with vigilance
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 223 
 
 against what are called the white lies of vanity, 
 convenience, palliation, or stretching. 
 
 The law of kindness was impressed on her 
 heart, in order that it might reside on her lips ; 
 she was never allowed to speak against any one, 
 except in their presence, and was taught, that 
 by listening to the evil reports of others, she 
 became a sharer in their guilt. 
 
 Charity was inculcated, not by allowing her 
 to give away money that was afterwards to be 
 made up to her, but accompanied by a degree 
 of personal privation, and extended to the in- 
 firmities, as well as to the wants of our fellow 
 creatures. To enable her to acquire this for- 
 bearance, she was sometimes sent to pass hours, 
 with a little, sick, peevish child, in the village, 
 or to work for, and listen to the endless com- 
 plaints of a discontented, tiresome, old woman 
 supported by their bounty. At her return from 
 these excursions, Miss Mordaunt always re- 
 ceived her with particular kindness ; and without 
 expecting praise for what she was made to 
 consider a duty^ she was rewarded by the smiles 
 of her aunt, and the approving testimony of her 
 own conscience. 
 
 She was likewise frequently reminded of her 
 own particular causes for thankfulness, and 
 of the necessity of content and cheerfulness ; 
 as we would hope to please God. She was 
 never permitted to grumble and repine at any 
 thing, not even the weather ; taught to give way 
 to the wishes of her companions in trifles ; to 
 L 4
 
 224- THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 be moderate in her diet, taking without remark 
 what was given her, even though something she 
 liked better was on the table ; for Miss Mor- 
 daunt thought if a habit of self-denial was not 
 early acquired, by being exercised in small 
 matters, it seldom came when necessary to our 
 comfort, in an intercourse with the world, in 
 after years. When the habit of obedience had 
 been entirely gained, Ellen explained to her 
 young niece her authority for what she had 
 recommended ; promising, that when older, the 
 great rule of faith and practice, should be 
 submitted to her own perusal; and thus, she 
 was prepared for receiving with reverence and 
 gratitude, the book of lite, instead of being 
 early prejudiced against it, by being made to 
 read as a task, what she was too young to un- 
 derstand or appreciate. 
 
 Miss Mordaunt was likewise particularly 
 anxious her Christian pupil should habitually 
 love and reverence the sabbath. For this pur- 
 pose, it was passed with a marked difference 
 from other days ; yet, her time so filled up, as 
 to leave no necessity for her yawning over 
 some good book, above her comprehension. 
 She was made to rise as early as usual, and 
 expected to say her Collect, which was her only 
 lesson, before breakfast, that she might be able 
 to fill up the interval till church, at the Sunday 
 School. 
 
 As they were very near, weather seldom pre- 
 vented their attending divine service twice, be-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 225 
 
 tvveen which, cheerful conversation, and even a 
 walk was encouraged, due care being taken, out 
 of respect for the day, to be scrupulously neat 
 and clean in dress, guarding against any sally 
 of ill-temper, or uncharitableness. In the even- 
 ing, sacred music was resorted to, which most 
 delightfully filled up the hours till family 
 prayers. The servants were freely admitted to 
 both, and any young person in the neighbour- 
 hood, willing to conform, and swell the sacred 
 and harmonious choir. The two families at 
 the cottage and parsonage were always united 
 at these meetings, held alternately at each other's 
 houses. 
 
 The elders were all musical, but Ellen, in 
 particular, excelled in solemn airs, on a chamber- 
 organ, which had been one of her earliest pre- 
 sents to her friend. While the united voices 
 of a circle so dear, So interesting, engaged in 
 the noblest of earthly employments, celebrating 
 the praises and goodness of their Creator, or 
 beseeching his continued aid, sounded in her 
 ears like a foretaste of Heaven ; and even the 
 lively Adelaide thought Sunday the pleasantest 
 day of the week. 
 
 The Montagues were indeed unspeakably 
 gratified by the delightful acquisition of their 
 new neighbours. Edward, indifferent to ordi- 
 nary society, felt thankful to Providence for 
 uniting him thus to the only two women he 
 had ever loved; while Caroline, faithfully attach- 
 ed to the friend of her youth, that friend to 
 L 5
 
 226 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 whom she had always looked up as to a superior 
 being, and loved as a sister, of a naturally 
 lively, and trusting disposition, only feared 
 her happiness was too great to last ; yet had it 
 its alloy, in the delicate health of both her 
 husband and Ellen. Having lost in infancy 
 her only daughter, she soon loved the little 
 Adelaide, nearly as well as her own children, 
 and anxiously hoped she would in time become 
 the wife of one of her boys, which appeared suf- 
 ficiently probable, from the strong attachment 
 at present prevailing among them. Herbert, 
 the eldest, was five years older than his little 
 friend ; a circumstance which gave a protecting 
 and instructing air to their intercourse. He 
 was a fine handsome boy, who promised to 
 unite the opposite characters of his parents, 
 possessing most of the good qualities of both. 
 Charles, two years younger, was grave, stu- 
 dious, and retired, yet possessing a peculiar fund 
 of dry humour, with extraordinary perseverance 
 and application. He was likewise of a very 
 generous and affectionate disposition, so attached 
 to his brother as to give way, in every instance 
 that he was permitted, to that dear brother's 
 wishes. Indeed the characters of the three 
 youthful companions were so different, and all 
 were so anxious for the honor of giving up to 
 each other, that strife and contention were en- 
 tirely unknown ; and Adelaide considered her- 
 self a good temper, because it had never been 
 much tried.
 
 227 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Miss Mordaunt had been settled at Ashford 
 two years, during which time her sister had 
 paid her several visits, and, delighted with her 
 future abode, had arranged with Mr. Maitland, 
 for leaving his house, in order to share the 
 comforts of it, and enjoy the society of her only 
 child. The Osbournes were returned to Eng- 
 land, where Ellen had paid them a long visit, 
 gratified to observe the health and spirits of all 
 were improved by their excursion. 
 
 It had been settled, that her visit should be 
 annual, to which Ellen, knowing she should 
 now have Clara to supply her place at home, 
 had willingly agreed : beside this, Barbara, who 
 was still childless, was to be her guest, frequent- 
 ly in the summer ; so that the friends flattered 
 themselves, they should not greatly feel their 
 separation. The youngest Miss Maitland was 
 to accompany Clara to Ashford, for a year 
 or two ; while the eldest, now old enough to 
 relieve her aunt, was to manage the house. 
 Things were in this train, and Adelaide and 
 Ellen all impatience for the arrival of their fu- 
 ture inmates, when intelligence arrived that 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Maitland was too dangerously ill 
 L 6
 
 228 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 for them to leave her. This excellent woman, 
 indeed, felt her end approaching ; and anxious 
 for the future comfort of her brother, and the 
 welfare of his children, about to be left a second 
 time, and, at such a critical age, considering 
 the long time that Mrs. Horton had been in 
 the family, and the close scrutiny her character 
 had sustained, she sent for Mr. Maitland, and 
 entreated him, if after seeing more of her, he 
 should think such a wife calculated to make 
 him happy, to discard prejudice, and give his 
 daughters a mother, to whom they . were al- 
 ready so attached, who was so capable of filling 
 her place in his household. 
 
 Mr. Maitland, to whom the advice was far 
 from unpleasant, promised to take the matter 
 into consideration. Hitherto engrossed by the 
 cares of business, he had, convinced his chil- 
 dren were taken care of by his sister, interfered 
 very little with their department; but now, 
 that he was about to lose her, that he had 
 taken a country house, that he intended to 
 relax in his exertions, the prospect of rinding 
 an agreeable companion in his own family, 
 recommended by a judgment of which he had 
 the highest opinion, was extremely tempting : 
 and when Mrs. Elizabeth, after having adorned 
 her Christian profession through' life, had died 
 the death of the righteous, her brother took an 
 early opportunity of making his own, and her 
 wishes known, on this interesting subject. 
 
 Clara, who knew that Mr. Maitland was not
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 229 
 
 only an upright and honorable man, but that 
 he had been a kind husband, affectionate bro- 
 ther, fond parent, and excellent master, could 
 see no objection against such an advantageous 
 alliance ; and accordingly, six months after the 
 death of that good friend, to whom she owed 
 so much, nearly the whole of which interval 
 had been passed with her sister, she again, and 
 under more favorable auspices, entered the 
 married state, as Mrs. Maitland of Hurst Park, 
 and Bedford Square. 
 
 Ellen had offered, with whatever reluctance, 
 to send Adelaide to reside with her fortunate 
 mother, and new relatives, but Clara would 
 not hear of it. " No," said she, " I consigned 
 her to your care, because unable to retain her 
 myself, and shall I, because Providence has 
 been so bountiful to me, deprive you of the 
 child, to whom you have attached yourself, and 
 to whom your care is of such incalculable bene- 
 fit ? No ! I have other children, to whom it is 
 my especial duty to devote my time, and it 
 shall be the study of my life to prove my gra- 
 titude towards their father, by my attention to 
 them." 
 
 Mr. Maitland was highly gratified by this 
 arrangement, and as his wife had declined ac- 
 cepting any settlement, secured to her daughter 
 a portion of two thousand pounds at his death. 
 His own girls were already provided for, pos- 
 sessing between them the fortunes of their 
 mother and aunt. They were all pleasing, and
 
 230 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 amiable, although not handsome; exceedingly 
 attached to their new mamma, they were eager 
 to be introduced to her relatives, and as the 
 desire was equally felt on all sides, a visit to 
 Ashford was soon arranged ; and as Ellen's 
 cottage was not sufficiently large to accommo- 
 date the whole of the party, the three young 
 ladies were, to sleep at the parsonage, the kind 
 inhabitants of which sincerely participated in 
 the general joy and bustle so important an 
 arrival naturally occasioned. 
 
 Margaret was not the least active and im- 
 portant, although now growing old; " Well," 
 said she, when after anxious watching, the 
 approach of a handsome carriage was clearly 
 descried, " I am now satisfied, since one of the 
 dear children has done well ; but it ought to 
 have been Miss Ellen." And so thought most 
 of the neighbours. 
 
 Mrs. Maitland met her sister and her child 
 with tears of gratitude and joy ; while she felt no 
 little pride, in introducing them to her husband 
 and daughters. Louisa, the youngest, was just 
 the age of Adelaide, and a strict friendship was 
 soon formed between them; into which new 
 league, Herbert, who had at first rather looked 
 grave, at being shut out, was, however, ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 The heart of Ellen, dilated with gratitude to 
 the bountiful Giver of all, when she thus wit- 
 nessed the happiness of her dear Clara, when 
 she saw her, mindful of the lessons of adversity,
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 231 
 
 as humble and as watchful over her own con- 
 duct now, as when she had been in a dependent 
 situation, proof that it was grounded on re- 
 ligious principle. She also retained with the 
 most exact recollection, the memory of all the 
 kindness she had experienced while really in 
 need of it; yet had entirely forgiven, and 
 apparently forgotten, old resentments. Now, 
 that her motives could not be misconstrued, she 
 longed to hear what had been the fate of her 
 quondam friend, Mrs. Onslow, of whom she 
 had never heard since her first marriage : 
 Mrs. Hamilton, disgusted with something that 
 had annoyed her in their household, had, she 
 knew, joined her husband abroad. 
 
 Six happy weeks soon passed at Ashford, 
 and then the Maitlands were obliged to depart; 
 but Louisa begged so earnestly, to be allowed 
 to remain behind, that her request was granted, 
 on condition Miss Mordaunt and Adelaide 
 accompanied her home in the spring : the 
 pleasing prospect of which reunion, enabled 
 enabled them to part with less regret than 
 would otherwise have been the case. 
 
 Ellen was likewise glad that her pupil should 
 have the advantage of a female companion, 
 rather older than herself, although Louisa was 
 more gentle, and less forward, than was ex- 
 actly desirable. She was, however, well in- 
 formed and amiable, possessing quick feelings, 
 and a remarkably affectionate disposition, al- 
 though rather confused in her ideas, and slow
 
 232 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 in comprehending any new opinion. Unaffect- 
 edly diffident of herself, she felt the warmest 
 admiration for sense and talent in others ; and 
 finding both in her new friend, she was dis- 
 posed to look up to her as an oracle : but 
 Adelaide, blessed with a good memory, and 
 great natural quickness, was always impatient 
 at the dullness of others; and although her 
 aunt, observing this fault in her character, had 
 endeavoured to counteract it, by allotting to 
 her the stupidest of the poor children, as 
 scholars, as well as by representing to her the 
 sin of being peevish and angry with the ignorant 
 and the dull, because Providence had not 
 bestowed upon them one particular faculty, 
 when perhaps the deficiency might be sup- 
 plied by greater power of retention, yet the 
 reformation had proceeded no further than to 
 her intercourse with the poor, because her 
 usual associates needed no forbearance. 
 
 Accustomed therefore, to have her thoughts 
 comprehended, as fast as she could give them 
 utterance, she was soon out of patience with 
 her new friend ; while her incessant, " How 
 can you be so stupid ?" wounded the feelings of 
 Louisa, who considered the epithet, though 
 merited, ill-bred and unkind. Adelaide like- 
 wise expected, that as her companion always 
 confessed her inferiority, she would of course 
 coincide with her in her opinions, when she had 
 at last, driven them into her head : but here 
 she was mistaken, for Louisa, who was candour
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 233 
 
 itself, frequently saw things in quite a different 
 light, without her sweet temper being in the 
 smallest degree ruffled ; while Adelaide felt in- 
 dignant and provoked, although in labouring 
 to conceal it her manner became cool, and 
 almost contemptuous. But as she soon re- 
 pented her injustice, and endeavoured to make 
 amends, by increased tenderness, Louisa, at 
 first, only loved her the better for these tem- 
 porary estrangements. As Adelaide, however, 
 continued to transgress, asserting, even before 
 others, that Louisa " never understood, or re- 
 membered any thing," her pride, affection, and 
 politeness, alike revolted from what she con- 
 sidered unworthy treatment, and she resolved 
 to seek some less gifted, but more enduring 
 friend. Adelaide soon perceived that she was 
 avoided, and that Louisa's spirits were affected ; 
 and, unconscious of being herself the cause, 
 anxiously questioned her companion concern- 
 ing it. Louisa readily explained, telling Ade- 
 laide she had thrown from her a heart, which 
 would have devoted itself to her with constancy 
 and affection. Adelaide, shocked and humbled, 
 besought her friend's forgiveness, declared 
 she hated herself for this, and some other of 
 her bad habits, but that she found it so difficult 
 to avoid them. " Aid me, dear, kind Louisa," 
 said she, " in striving against myself, and when 
 you see me impatient and peevish, pinch, scold, 
 do any thing but give up to me." 
 
 The generous Louisa, completely appeased,
 
 234* THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 thought only of reconciling her friend to herself; 
 but Adelaide, perceiving how nearly she had lost 
 her, redoubled her prayers against, and exer- 
 tions to overcome this her besetting sin, want 
 of allowance for, and forbearance towards 
 others. She likewise informed her aunt of all 
 that had passed; confessing how much she 
 was lowered in her own opinion, while Louisa 
 was proportionately raised. 
 
 " I shall not, my dear," observed Miss Mor- 
 daunt, after promising her assistance, " enlarge 
 on the self-evident truth, that our own happi- 
 ness, as well as that of others, depends on the 
 government of our temper; but I must just 
 observe, that attention to it is peculiarly neces- 
 sary to those affectionate dispositions, who 
 place their chief delight in being beloved : 
 since the real reason why so many early friend- 
 ships fade away as people advance in life, is 
 petty disgusts and offences taken by the parties 
 against each other in unguarded moments, too 
 small to be individually remembered. Perhaps 
 it is not those who have rendered us the most 
 important services, the memory of which is 
 either obliterated by time, or accompanied with 
 the sense of obligation or those who have 
 proved most entertaining, for whom we imbibe 
 the most lasting attachment, but rather, those 
 who have given us the least offence those 
 who have sweetened the daily intercourse of 
 common life, by the reviving cordial of good 
 humour."
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 235 
 
 Ellen had, indeed, herself discovered the 
 secret of keeping, as well as making friends. 
 She never lost any except by death, and as 
 they frequently honored Ashlbrd with a visit, 
 their company, in addition to that of the Mait- 
 lands, rendered her cottage the liveliest in the 
 village. Louisa was generally their guest ; and 
 they frequently accompanied her to Hurst 
 Park: but Miss Mordaunt delighted in her 
 home, and Adelaide never long together enjoyed 
 any thing, of which Herbert did not partake ; 
 so that their absences were comparatively short. 
 Mr. Maitland had generously insisted on Ellen's 
 receiving the whole interest of what he had 
 settled on Adelaide, as the only condition on 
 which he would agree to her being burdened 
 with his two daughters. His family at home 
 was soon farther lessened, by the early marriage 
 of his eldest child, while, as if to make him 
 amends, his lady made him the father of a little 
 boy, who sooii became the universal pet of 
 papa, mamma, and sisters. 
 
 Clara's fondness for this little darling, had 
 made her anxious to learn whether Mrs. Onslow 
 had ever had children ; and she resolved to 
 make enquiry concerning her. With some 
 difficulty she discovered, that they resided 
 entirely on one of her own estates; that they 
 had one beautiful little girl, who having been 
 almost idolized by both parents, had never 
 known control or contradiction. Her father, 
 delighted to have her near him, had kept for
 
 236 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 her, a pony, from the time that she was able to 
 sit on one ; and as she had no companions oi 
 her own age, she, had imbibed a passionate 
 love for horses and dogs. Naturally high- 
 spirited, though generous and affectionate, the 
 excessive indulgence with which she had been 
 treated, had rendered her obstinately self-willed; 
 while, from the maid in her nursery, and the 
 grooms in the stable, she had learned various 
 lessons in cunning. One unfortunate morning, 
 when she was ten years old, and had set her 
 heart on accompanying her papa to some 
 famous hunt, her horse was discovered to be 
 so lame, as to be unfit for her to ride. In vain 
 her father gave up going himself in vain her 
 mamma offered various other sorts of amuse- 
 ment she insisted on riding some other 
 animal, and almost cried herself sick, because 
 not permitted to run that risk ; suddenly, 
 however, checking her tears, she declared she 
 had the head-ache, and must go to bed. Dis- 
 missing her maid, she pretended to be asleep ; 
 till watching her opportunity, she stole down to 
 the stables, and finding there ready saddled her 
 father's horse, on which he had intended to go 
 out, when his little tyrant was appeased, she, 
 resolved, to be revenged on him, and play them 
 all " a trick," actually contrived, assisted by a 
 stool, which had been ready placed for her, to 
 get upon his back and gallop out of the yard. 
 The groom, who had been gossipping in the 
 house, alarmed by the sound, soon gave the
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 237 
 
 alarm; but in the meantime, the spirited animal 
 unused to so light a weight, had set off too 
 fast for her to keep her insecure seat, and 
 falling on her back, near to the house, she was 
 taken up insensible, and restored to her dis- 
 tracted parents apparently dead. She, how- 
 ever, soon revived ; and it was then discovered, 
 that her spine had received an injury, from 
 which she would probably never recover : 
 and she was now stretched on her reclining 
 board, constantly before the eyes of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Onslow, a reproach to their selfish system 
 of idolatry and indulgence. 
 
 Almeria, unchanged in pride, and enduring 
 much from self-reproach, coldly repulsed Clara's 
 kind and sympathizing overtures, while Mrs. 
 Maitland, satisfied with having made them, re- 
 solved to think of her no more. 
 
 Miss Mordaunt had always continued on 
 affectionate terms with the good Lady Williams, 
 but one morning she was rather surprised by a 
 visit from Mr. Arthur. He had been travelling 
 in Devonshire, and recollecting she had a house 
 there, he, after carefully reckoning up the com- 
 parative expence of going a little out of his 
 way, or putting up at an inn, decided, as 
 there was a probable balance of comfort, on the 
 former. Time had by no means improved 
 his person, mind, or manners : devoted to idle- 
 ness, and self-indulgence, his once handsome 
 figure had become fat and unwieldy; while what 
 had only appeared want of polish, when he was
 
 238 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 young, now glared in its true character of sel- 
 fishness ; and the animal spirits, which had 
 gained for him the attribute of good-nature, 
 had vanished with his health. 
 
 Mr. Arthur Williams stared about him, 
 looked at the young ladies, asked for wine 
 and water, damned the roads, and ringing 
 the bell, ordered the maid to bring him water 
 to wash his hands, &c. Indeed he was evi- 
 dently disposed to make himself quite at home ; 
 and when dinner, which Miss Mordaunt, know- 
 ing his taste, had taken care to arrange accord- 
 ingly, was brought in, and he had partaken of 
 it, and of her wine, which he pronounced 
 passable, no moderate quantity; his good 
 humour entirely returned, and addressing his 
 hostess, " Really," observed he, " you have a 
 very nice little house ! what I mean, a man 
 might make himself comfortable here, he 
 might. Any good neighbours ? what I mean, 
 pleasant people." 
 
 Miss Mordaunt answered, " that she would 
 give him an opportunity of judging for himself, 
 provided he was inclined to prolong his stay." 
 
 " Oh, no, I thank you," added her visitor, 
 " I must be off by the stage, to-morrow morn- 
 ing ; what I mean, I could'nt stay longer, any 
 how ; I could'nt." 
 
 The ladies now withdrew, the younger ones 
 having long felt great difficulty in concealing 
 their propensity to laugh; nor did the guest 
 oppose their departure ; on the contrary, he
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 239 
 
 quietly finished his bottle, and then stretched 
 himself on the sofa to sleep. Nor were his 
 slumbers disturbed till nearly the hour at which 
 they were accustomed to retire. AVhile sipping 
 his coffee, Miss Mordaunt enquired more par- 
 ticularly concerning the health of his father, 
 " Why," answered Mr. Arthur, " the old 
 gentleman is pretty hearty ; what I mean, there 
 is nothing much the matter with him ; but he 
 is very likely to go off suddenly, he is, 
 because he eats and drinks too much : I shall 
 pop into his title and fortune quite unexpectedly 
 some day, though the old boy is rather stingy 
 now he is." And with this truly filial senti- 
 ment, he walked off. 
 
 In the morning, he was not visible till long 
 after the family had breakfasted ; but as he ob- 
 served, " there was no hurry, because the coach 
 did not pass till one." He, however, did ample 
 justice to the good things set before him, after 
 which, to fill up the time, Miss Mordaunt 
 offered to shew him her little domain. In this 
 Mr. Arthur discovered a trout stream, and 
 learning from Adelaide that they possessed 
 abundance of fishing tackle, " I tell you what," 
 said he, " I have no objection to stay another 
 day, what I mean, I think it would be plea- 
 sant, as I have nothing particular to call me 
 away." His hostess, of course, could not but 
 observe she should be glad of his company; 
 when, sending Louisa to ask for his great coat 
 and gaiters, and desiring Adelaide to look out
 
 240 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 the best rod and line, he prepared deliberately, 
 to have a touch at the fish. And here, he was 
 very willingly left to watch with an angler's 
 patience, for the chance of a bite. 
 
 " Well, Aunt," said Adelaide, " though you 
 never will allow me to speak against people, I 
 hope you will agree, that this greedy, tiresome 
 porpoise is fair game, and enough to put any 
 one out of patience." 
 
 " I cannot deny it," answered Miss Mor- 
 daunt, " though, from having seen him fre- 
 quently, his oddities do not strike me so forcibly 
 as they do you. Yet while we smile, and are 
 angi'y at his undisguised, and self-satisfied 
 selfishness, it may not be unprofitable to trace 
 it to its source, which, you will find, was early 
 bad habits. Brought up by a doating grand- 
 father, who thought honesty the only virtue 
 necessary to be inculcated in children, he was 
 a spoilt boy, never taught to think of any one 
 but himself. And when, in after years, the 
 circumstances of his parents changed, his hand- 
 some person, and expected fortune, secured 
 him a good reception in society ; where, never 
 instructed to look into, or distrust himself, he 
 mingled with the well-bred and the well-edu- 
 cated, without suspecting that he was any way 
 inferior to them ; and, as we commonly go 
 backward, where we do not improve, time has 
 added to the deficiencies of his youth the faults 
 and peculiarities of after years. Naturally in- 
 dolent, and possessing a comfortable independent
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 241 
 
 fortune, he has neither taken the trouble to 
 engage in business, nor to seek a wife, and as 
 he never doubts his company being agreeable, 
 he will, I doubt not, bestow it upon us as long 
 as he can find amusement, without feeling him- 
 self in the least indebted to our hospitality. 
 He, however, reaps the usual fruit of such 
 selfishness, as he has so tired out those of his 
 London acquaintance who keep good cooks, 
 that they are denied to his very face. 
 
 The important period now arrived, when 
 Herbert Montague was to be entered at college. 
 In parting, for the first time, from all he loved 
 at Ashford, he had felt and suffered what 
 might be expected from such an amiable and 
 ingenuous youth ; fortunately he inherited much 
 of the sanguine" hopefulness of his mother, 
 beside possessing a noble, generous and trusting 
 character. His parents had no fears for the 
 firmness of his principles, guarded as was his 
 heart by so early and virtuous an attachment: 
 but Adelaide, the affectionate Adelaide, parted 
 for the first time, for so long a period, from this 
 beloved friend, felt so desolate and miserable, 
 that her kind aunt, in conjunction with her 
 mother, arranged she should pay a visit to 
 London, where the marriage of the second 
 Miss Maitland, and the christening of a little 
 daughter of Clara's, were to be celebrated with 
 much family rejoicing. Mr. and Mrs. Mon- 
 % tague, with Charles, the constant attendant on 
 * Louisa, were to join the party, and, but for the
 
 242 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 absence of Herbert, Adelaide would have been 
 wild with joy ; as it was, she would have pre- 
 ferred nursing her regret in the country, had 
 she not felt ashamed of making such a proposal. 
 Miss Mordaunt resolved, that as she was now 
 fifteen, she should be left to manage herself for 
 she felt anxious her pupil should turn out worthy 
 of what, she doubted not, Herbert would prove 
 himself, a pious minister of God. After the 
 wedding she was to remove to Lady Osbourne's ; 
 Mr. and Mrs. Montague to return home ; and 
 Charles and Adelaide to remain for the rest of 
 the season with Mr. Maitland ; who had an 
 intention, provided it met with his parents' 
 consent, to take Charles into his counting- 
 house. 
 
 The evening before they left home, Miss 
 Mordaunt seeing Adelaide inclined to be grave, 
 thought it a good opportunity to impress on her 
 mind, some useful hints for her future conduct. 
 
 " Although, strictly speaking," observed she, 
 " you are too young to enter into mixed society, 
 yet from the circumstances of your visit, and 
 your father's large acquaintance, you will pro- 
 bably see something of that world, of which 
 you have read, and heard so much ; and of 
 which you have as yet seen nothing. Instead 
 of finding it, as you may now suppose, a formi- 
 dable and unkind one, you will probably be 
 flattered and gratified by the welcome you 
 receive, and, with the natural confidence of 
 early youth, imagine all, with whom you asso-
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 243 
 
 ciate, your friends ; they will in reality, be such, 
 while your novelty and artlessness excite inte- 
 rest, and provide amusement, beside that you 
 will be too young to excite jealousy, which is in 
 this life the great drawback on the pleasures of 
 society ; but beware of your own openness, and 
 do not repeat unnecessarily, what is against 
 yourself, any more than you would against 
 others. We are told by one of the first autho- 
 rities of the age*, that ' while we are to govern 
 our thoughts, when alone ; and our temper, in 
 domestic intercourse; the tongue is to be 
 watched over in general society.' You must 
 not be anxious to display all you know, for the 
 best-informed woman, particularly while young, 
 .should seem to seek knowledge, and always be 
 disposed to listen with respectful attention, to 
 the opinions of those older than herself. It is 
 likewise extremely impolitic, to praise too 
 highly, before others, those that we most love 
 and admire, because there is a spirit of contra- 
 diction in human nature, which disposes us to 
 depreciate, and even hate, those we think raised 
 above their proper level. 
 
 " Say no more, dear aunt," interrupted Ade- 
 laide, " or I shall never have courage to leave 
 your sheltering wing, and enter a circle, for 
 which I am so utterly disqualified." 
 
 " The habit of restraint is however neces- 
 sary to us in every situation," observed Miss 
 
 * Mrs. H. More. 
 M 2
 
 244 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 Mordaunt ; " and as you may possibly be 
 doomed to live a London life " 
 
 " O ! do not hint at such a thing," said Ade- 
 laide, turning pale ; " what would become of 
 me, removed from Ashford, and all I love, 
 and Herbert," added she, her colour rapidly 
 returning. 
 
 " Prove yourself worthy of his love," replied 
 her aunt : " I only fear your liking too well, 
 that, of which you have not yet experienced the 
 fascination. Our blessed Lord warns us, to 
 love not the world, nor the things of the world ; 
 he does not say the persons, but, on the con- 
 trary, inculcates the necessity of feeling for them, 
 the general love and interest of Christian cha- 
 rity, though not of intimate acquaintance." 
 
 " There is no fear of my carrying my bene- 
 volence too far," answered Adelaide; "because 
 my affections are already so worthily filled. 
 How can I ever feel thankful enough," added 
 she after a pause, " to Providence, for blessing 
 me with such an instructress, and enriching me 
 with such friends ! Left to myself, my natural 
 heedlessness and self-will would have led me 
 into every evil habit; and Herbert never would 
 have loved me, as I trust he now does, if only 
 out of compliment to her from whom comes 
 every talent and good disposition I possess." 
 
 Miss Mordaunt, affected by the innocent 
 appeal, gently turned the grateful recollections 
 of her niece to their proper source, hinting, 
 that true religion, distinct alike from fanaticism
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 245 
 
 on the one hand, or coldness on the other, is 
 our only sure refuge and strength, whether 
 living in retirement, or in the world ; and that, 
 there being but one rule for faith and practice, 
 the humble and sincere Christian had only to 
 endeavour, with divine assistance, to conform 
 herself to that, trusting to the merits of a mer- 
 ciful Redeemer for pardon and acceptance. 
 
 Adelaide did not disappoint the hopes of her 
 aunt; nor discredit the education she had re- 
 ceived. In becoming the wife of Herbert Mon- 
 tague, she continued to reside in the beloved 
 cottage, where she had already spent so many 
 happy years ; and here, in the society of such 
 a son and such a daughter, surrounded by at- 
 tached friends, and enjoying the peace of an 
 approving conscience, Miss Mordaunt, although 
 an old maid, was respectable and happy : while 
 Mrs. Maitland, in the more active life to which 
 Providence had called her, illustrated the pos- 
 sibility of walking with God in the world. 
 She accompanied her daughter and son-in-law 
 to France, where they went on the occasion 
 of their marriage, both anxious to see the 
 humble cottage in which Adelaide had been 
 born, and to enquire after the worthy inhabit- 
 ants of St. Aulaire. The good cure was gone 
 to his eternal reward: the chateau shut up 
 since the death of its mistress, but Monsieur 
 Louvet still the agent of the present proprietor ; 
 the cottagers still industrious and contented. 
 Katrine Dubois declared that every thing had
 
 246 THE SCHOOL FOR SISTERS. 
 
 prospered with her since the good English 
 lady had taken to Rosine : she was now an 
 important person in the village ; her elder 
 children supporting her comfortably. She pro- 
 mised to pray to all the saints for the happiness 
 of Adelaide and her beau mari, when returned 
 to their own country. 
 
 The life of the good Lady Osbourne was pro- 
 longed, and prosperous : in Mrs. Osbourne she 
 found an affectionate daughter and faithful 
 friend, with whom she frequently visited the 
 peaceful village where her dear Ellen, as she 
 always called her, lived : here she found a use- 
 ful guide and example, in the worthy rector, 
 whose health rather improving as he grew 
 
 11 T 1 
 
 older, seemed to promise that an existence so 
 valuable to all who lived within its influence, 
 might not be prematurely closed ; and if the 
 tender care of the most attached of wives, the 
 filial attention of dutiful children, and the prayers 
 of his parishioners, united to habits of temper- 
 ance and simplicity, may ever be allowed to 
 extend the period of human life, they might 
 hope to avail, in this instance, of a man, so 
 useful in his generation so " abounding in flu- 
 work of the Lord." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoodc, 
 New- Street -Square.
 
 00 078 634