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ALICIA AND HER AUNT;
OB,
E^ink before gou =Speak.
A TALE FOR YOUNG PERSONS.
BY
MRS. HOFLAND,
AUTHOR OF
THE BARBADOES GIRL; TOUNG CRtTSO",
BLIND farmer; ELIZABETH; CLERGYMAN'S WIDOW;
AFFECTIONATE BROTHERS; STOLEN BOY; THE SISTERS;
WILLIAM AND HIS UNCLE BEN; RICH BOYS AND
POOR boys; good grandmother, &e., &c.
Young heads are giddy, and younp: hearts are warm,
And make mistakes for manhood to reform ;
Boys are at best but pretty buds unblown,
Whose scent and hues are rather guess'd than known.
COWPER.
^ciu Etiitton.
LONDON:
ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & Co.,
PATERNOSTER ROW,
I^OKWICH:
PRINTED BY JOSIAH FLETCHER, UPPER HAYMARKET
ALICIA AND HEE AUNT.
CHAP. I.
"I CANNOT imagine what makes you so
fond of that old Mrs. Launceston," said
Edward Eyre to his young friend Charles
Parry, "for she is a very queer-looking
old woman ; and though you call her aunt,
yet she is only, in fact, your mamma's
great-aunt; so that all the relationship
must be worn out before it reaches you:
yet you are running to see her, morning,
noon, and night.
6293G3
2 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
" Because I love her, to be sure !" re-
plied Charles, bluntly, surprised, and al-
most shocked, that any person could doubt
the propriety, or undervalue the reason-
ableness, of his entire attention to one
whom he had beheld as an object of vene-
ration from his cradle.
" I suppose so," resumed Edward, " but
I cannot see the reason why you love her.
Now I love my grandmother dearly ; but
it is very natural that I should do so, for
she is my own father's mother ; of course,
I owe her love and respect; and she is not
to be called an oZc^ woman; and she speaks
very well, and hears very well, and is always
making me very handsome presents; so
that it would be very strange indeed if I
did not love her. But I don't think, if I
were in your place, I could much like my
great-great-aunt. "
" But I do like her, and that is enough,"
replied Charles, and the angry tone in
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 6
which he spoke acted as a warning to Ed-
ward ao'ainst continuino^ a conversation
which he now perceived to be rude as well
as foolish, since it gave pain to the best-
tempered boy of his acquaintance; and
therefore, immediately starting a different
topic of discourse, he continued to walk
forward with him, till they reached the
door of Mrs. Launceston's cottage, whi-
ther Charles was going at the time when
Edward joined him.
The old lady was sitting within the porch
of her door, which was formed of a pretty
green trellis, covered with woodbine and
roses, on which Charles was accustomed to
bestow a considerable portion of his gar-
dening skill; a slight white paling, enclos-
ing a small garden, separated this dwelling
from the footpath; so that when Charles
entered the door, Mrs. Launceston saw
him part from a companion ; and though
4 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
her eyes were weak, she guessed that it
must be Edward, and she called out to
him, in her usual Scotch accent — " What's
the hurry, maister Edward? can ye not
w^alk in a wee bittie wi' my bonny Chairlie ?"
Edward immediately entered, conscious
that the inviter had a more than usual claim
to his complaisance, as a balance to the
unkind manner in which he had so lately
spoken of her, though without any bad in-
tention.
Mrs. Launceston was now almost eighty
years of age ; she never had been handsome,
and her tall spare figure was now bent by
time and habit, so as to render her appa-
rently even much beyond that advanced
period. She wore a mob cap, and a black
satin close-fitting hood over it; and the
whole of her dress, although neat, and that
of a gentlewoman of a distant period, was
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. O
certainly different to that of any other per-
son in her neia^ibourhoocl. Her tones, as
well as her dialect, were broad Scotch,
and therefore sounded uncouth and vulgar
to the ear of an English boy, who was ac-
customed only to the society of a gentle-
man's house; and being a little deaf, she
aided the unpleasant effect by generally
speaking in the loud voice which persons
thus afflicted so generally adopt.
Yet Edward thought at this time that her
countenance was open and benevolent, and
that the happy and affectionate looks which
she cast upon Charles had really something
enjrao-infr in them, and he observed inter-
nally— « Well, I really think, if the old
woman loved me as well as she does
Charles, I should, like him, come to see
her very frequently, and sit down and bawl
to her just as he does."
" I'm no fond of troubling ye, maister
B 2
6 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
Eyre ; but I wad jist like to know whan
ye heerd fra the brave captain, yere noble
father, and how the gude leddy, yere mi-
ther, bears his absence?" said she.
" My mother is at present very well, and
happy ; for we have just heard from my
father, who is quite recovered from his
wound, and hopes to be at home in less
than two months."
" God be thankit ! — it has been a weery
time for twa hearts, sae good and sae
united, to be parted fra eech ither — His
name be praised !"
Mrs. Launceston took oiF her spectacles,
and wiped away the moisture which a de-
vout and joyful emotion had bedewed them
with ; and again the heart of Edward smote
him, for he was fondly attached to both
his parents, and therefore grateful to those
who esteemed them.
Observing the thoughtfulness of her
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 7
young visitant, and not aware of its real
cause, the old lady endeavoured to cheer
him, by saying — " It will be a proud mo-
ment for ye all, maister Edward, whan
your father comes back ; for if every true
Briton's heart beats warmly towards a
brave mon, weel may the mither that nur-
tured him, and the son that honours him,
feel the honest glow of a gladdened bosom
— to say nacthing o' the tender wife wha
has pined for his absence, and trembled for
his safety ; ay, my dear bairns, this is joy
indeed ! and when we receive it as the aift
of a merciful Almighty, then is it doubly
sweet to us ; such will it be to that good
leddy."
Edward, affected and confused, cast his
eyes eagerly around in search of Charles,
in order to offer, at least by his looks, some
apology for words which he would have
given the world to retract; but his friend.
8 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
on the very first address of his aged relative
to her young visitant, had slipped into the
house, under an impression of something
approaching to shame; and he therefore
neither witnessed the contrition of Edward,
nor heard the expressions of benevolent
sympathy which had awakened it.
Just as Edward entered the old lady's
sitting-room to speak to Charles, his eye
glanced on the timepiece which stood
upon her chimneypiece, and he was sur-
prised to see that the hour was much later
than he had supposed; he was therefore
compelled to bid a very hasty adieu to the
old lady, and run home as fast as possible,
although he felt a weight upon his mind,
which hung there so oppressively as almost
to impede his progress.
Charles had passed through the house,
and, feeling by no means his usual lightness
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. V
of heart, was at tliis time wandering about
tlie little orchard behind it, or peeping into
a small inclosure for poultry, which was of
his own construction, as if seeking for some-
thino- that he could neither find nor de-
scribe : at length, wearied and dissatisfied,
he returned to his grand-aunt, and on learn-
ino; that Edward had been gone for some
time, observed that he should go too.
" It's little I'm the better for your vee-
sit," said Mrs. Launceston, drily.
As this was an undeniable truth, Charles
did not reply, but he felt angry for the
first time in his life with the speaker, whom
he inwardly accused of being ungrateful
for the attention he had been paying her
every day daring the vacation. He de-
parted with a cold good-bye; but his steps
lingered, and as he moved slowly away, he
heard the old lady say to herself — " There's
something the matter wi' my ain Charlie ;
mair's the pity, puir fallow ! "
10 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
A short sigh followed this ejaculation,
and Charles for a moment checked his
steps, and was ready to run back and apo-
logize for his manners; but, alas! evil seed
had been sown in his heart — the ill-humour
of the moment, and the awakened thoughts
of his preceding conversation, alike tended
to check the generous repentance which
sprung in his bosom, and he walked slowly
home, continually repeating to himself —
"I am sure I don't know why I am so
fond of going to the cottage ; I don't see
any occasion there is for it, as Edward
says, and I really think I shall not do it
again. I don't suppose any boy in the
school, who is thirteen years old (which I
shall be next Thursday,) has spent so much
time with an old woman as I have; and
yet "
The ^^yeV brought forward, in quick
succession, many thoughts which mihtated
■Bgainst the foregoing resolutions and the
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 11
newly-imbibed opinions; the high respect,
as well as cordial affection, with which Mrs.
Launceston was ever treated by both his
parents — the uncommon regard she had
ever manifested towards him and his sisters
— the remembrance of the pleasure he had
enjoyed in listening to her recitation of
old ballads, and especially her histories of
Sir William Wallace and Robert Bruce
— and perhaps, above all, the idea that she
was in some measure either dependent
upon, or materially obligated to his parents
— conspired to render painful any thought
derogatory to his accustomed feelings to-
wards her.
Under the new and disas^reeable conflict
of present perceptions and past ideas,
Charles at length came to the wise con-
clusion of talking over the matter with his
mother, who, although likely to be partial
to her aunt, was also very fond of Edward,
12 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
and would, of course, think it very reason-
able that her son, who was almost two
years younger, should attach some impor-
tance to his observations ; " at any rate,"
said Charles to himself, " I shall learn from
my mamma what I ought to say, when he
asks me for my reasons for loving old Mrs.
Launceston ; for though I really do think
they are many, yet someway, since all
relate to her kindnesses to me as a child,
I fear it would be childish to give them ;
and that is what I can't endure, now I am
getting into my teens."
On arriving at his own house, Charles,
under these impressions, was soon placed
at the elbow of that maternal friend whose
counsels were alike dear and valuable to
him, and especially at this time, as his
father was absent in South Wales, inspect-
ing the inclosure of some land which had
only become his property within a few
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 13
years, and which called for that improve-
ment which, as a country gentleman of
ability and activity, he was well calculated
to give.
CHAP. 11.
When Charles found himself in the situa-
tion he had desired, he yet was sensible of
some difficulty ; and it was not till after a
period of silence unusual with him, that
he at length unhesitatingly said — "Pray,
mamma, do you think that one ought to
love their relations, just because they are
one's relations, better than any body in the
world?"
"Certainly not, Charles; but I think it
very natural and proper to give one's rela-
tions a decided preference ; for, even if we
make no allowance for ties of blood as a
cause for affection, yet they are our oldest
acquaintance, and we have probably re-
ceived from them great kindness before we
were able to return them any; so that
gratitude, as well as social habits and early
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 15
impressions, ought to influence us in our
feelings towards them."
"Very true, mamma; but if people
have a relation that they really cannot
like, what can they do ? "
" You mean, of course, a relation who
is wicked in his conduct or disposition : in
that case, all one can do is to pray to God
to change his heart, and so to soften our
own towards him, that although we abhor
his sins, we may yet feel pity and regard
for his person."
Charles gave a deep sigh — he felt as if
he was farther from the point than ever;
and his mother, sorry to see his mind in a
state of doubt and anxiety, continued to
say — " Young people are very apt to for-
get the two first lessons of religion and
reason, when they are tliinking on their
fellow-creatures, and their relations anions^
the rest: the first tells us that man is a
16 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
fallen creature — of course, liable to fall
into error; and the second confirms this
doctrine, by pointing out every day proofs
of petulance, misconduct, passion, extra-
vagance, meanness, even in those whom
we yet deem estimable in many points, and
feel to be exceedingly dear to ourselves.
Of course our own relations are human
beings, and, like the rest of their species,
may be sometimes vicious, and often dis-
agreeable ; but if they bear with us, we
surely ought to bear with them, and even
to love them. Don't you see the truth
and the necessity of this, Charles ? "
" Ye — es," replied the boy, with another
deep sigh.
"It is happy for you, since you think
so deeply on this subject, that you have
so few relations — and most assuredly not
one, at this moment, of whom you may
not be proud."
^' Du you think so, mamma ?"
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 17
" Undoubtedly ; for your sisters are all
too young to have done wrong materially ;
and in the few connections we have be-
side, few families are equally happy."
" Oh! as to my sisters, poor little
things ! they are the sweetest children that
ever were born — and my papa is a man of
a thousand — and you, mamma, so good,
and so handsome, too ! Then your great-
uncle Powis, when he was alive, what a
nice old gentleman he was ! — he had such
a beautiful pair of noble greys in his car-
riage ! — and he gave me a Welch pony
when I was such a little boy ! — and left
you an estate, too ! — Ah ! he was, indeed,
something like a relation !"
" Something like a relation certainly,"
said Mrs. Parry, " but he was a very dis-
tant one ; and as I did not know him
until after my marriage with your papa,
although I am sensible of his kindness,
C 2
18 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
and grateful for his bequest, yet I am apt
to forget he was my relation."
" But you always remember aunt Laun-
eeston was a very near relation, though,
in point of fact, they were the same akin
to you exactly ?"
" Yes, Charles, I do indeed feel that she
is very near to me ; and it has ever been a
source of the purest pleasure I have enjoyed
as a mother, to think that my son felt her
equally near and dear to him. In your
grateful attentions to her comfort, the de-
light with which you have listened to her
precepts, the patience with which you have
amused her lonely hours, or supported her
tottering steps, I have seen the foundation
of many virtues in your own character,
and have been led to hope that you would
one day resemble your father."
Charles's usually-open countenance did
not beam with its wonted smiles, when
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 19
such hopes were uttered by his beloved
mother ; on the contrary, he appeared ra-
ther depressed than elated, and yet not able
to relieve his mind by a confession of any
errors he might have been guilty of. Mrs.
Parry was therefore led to guess what
might be passing in his mind, and she add-
ed, in a very earnest tone of inquiry — " I
cannot for one moment suppose, Charles,
that you conclude that your aunt Launces-
ton's deficiency, in not having a carriage
and noble greys, and an estate to leave,
are reasons why she should be neglected
— why she should be thrown at a greater
distance from our hearts."
" Oh no, mamma — I did not think that;
for surely those who need us the most are
the very people to whom we ought to at-
tend the first. But yet we are the most
obliged, you know, to those who do the
most for us; so that, in one case, there is
gratitude, as you said yourself, to be added
20 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
to love and duty, which, in the other, there
is not. I must have a more exalted sense
of what I owe my uncle Powis when I am
a man, than I can have towards aunt
Launceston ; though I know her very well
indeed, and him very little."
" I will venture to assure you to the con-
trary, because I know you to be most ten-
derly attached to myself, and that, for my
sake, you will love her the best. I see that
something unpleasant is rankling in your
mind, and I would wish your own good
sense to overcome it, without beino; com-
pelled to say more than you choose, and
without implicating any other j)erson: and
in order to prove to you my opinion of the
manliness of your mind and your power of
discrimination, I will write out for you a
manuscript, which you may read, if you
please, in company with Edward Eyre,
next Wednesday evening. If, after read-
ing it, your are not of opinion that your
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 21
aunt Launceston is a person of equal value
with your uncle Powis, say to me - ^ Mam-
ma, I wish to keep my birthday at home;'
a request I shall certainly comply with,
although, at present, I have arranged mat-
ters for our dining at her cottage, where
Mrs. Captain Eyre, her excellent mother-
in-law, and Edward, would join us, since
my dear aunt cannot come hither."
Charles thanked his mamma most cor-
dially for her kindness in taking so much
trouble for him, and retired, impressed with
sincere thankfulness for the confidence that
she reposed in him, and particularly glad
that his own had not been violated towards
Edward ; he felt sure that although his
young friend had not asked him for secre-
cy, even by a look, yet that he would not
have liked that Mrs. Parry (whom he
dearly loved, and whom his mother held
dear as a sister) should have thought him
22 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
capable of influencing her son's mind to-
wards a person she esteemed so highly as
this aged relation ; and by this time Charles
was fully aware that his friend Edward had
done very wrong. Under this view of the
affair he remained, until he received the
promised manuscript from his mother,
when, summoning Edward to the reading,
he sat down, and with great interest pe-
rused the following story, which he soon
perceived to be the early history of his ex-
cellent mother, which she had designated,
" Alicia and her Aunt."
CHAP. III.
Alicia and her Aunt.
Mr. Launceston found himself an orphan
at a very early age, without any relations
save a maiden aunt, with whom he had a
very slight personal acquaintance, because
she resided at a distant part of the country
on a small annuity, whereas he had been
born and brought up in the city of Edin-
burgh.
His education had been good, so far 'as
it had proceeded, and as he possessed suf-
ficient fortune to bring him up to a genteel
profession, his guardian recommended him
to choose that of medicine. He was a
young man of fine person, superior abili-
ties, and engaging address ; and to these
24 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
qualifications he added the better charac-
teristics of sound principles in relif]^ion and
morals, extensive knowledge, and unques-
tionable integrity.
Althouo;h the Scottish school of medi-
cine ranked very high, yet when young
Launceston became of age, he wished to
take a more extended view of all that ap-
pertained to the practice ; and after calcu-
lating on his means of doing this, resolved
to spend some time in London. He did
so for two winters, and greatly improved
himself in that knowledge which may be
attained by practical observation; and was
preparing to return, for the purpose of
obtaining the diploma which he now felt
that he had a right to demand, when he
happened to meet in company a young
person, whose extraordinary beauty at-
tracted his eye, and whose perfect simpli-
city of manners won his affections.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 25
Alicia Powis was, like himself, an or-
phan; she was also a stranger, having
arrived in London but a few days before,
from South Wales. She was still in
mournino: for her father; and he was not
long in learning that she was portionless,
and dependent on her relations, one of
whom had invited her to London, with a
specious show of protection, to be little
better than an upper servant to a large
family, her employments soon becoming
more numerous, and her task more diffi-
cult than they would have been in any
menial situation.
Mr. Launceston's profession leading him
frequently into this family, he was a con-
stant witness to the trials, and an admirer
of the character as well as person of this
young lady, who soon interested him so
much, that he delayed his return until he
had secured her esteem, and a promise of
D
26 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
her hand, so soon as circumstances would
enable him to claim it. This important
point settled, he returned to Edinburgh —
was well received amongst the few ac-
quaintance he had formed — obtained his
diploma, and other honourable testimonials
of merit — and having taken handsome
apartments, commenced his career in life,
with every prospect of success.
Having met with more than usual prac-
tice, for so young a man, during the first
winter, when the gentry of Edinburgh left
town for their country seats he set out,
with all the impatience of a young and
sanguine heart, for the English metropolis,
to claun the hand of his affianced bride.
She was rejoiced to see him, but she
looked pale and thin — far different from
the blooming creature he had first beheld
her, but yet as lovely as ever ; and aware
that the air of London, and the many
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 27
disagreeables she silently endured, had
produced the change, he was impatient to
transplant her to his own country, and
restore her by his tenderness and skill:
indeed, as his own profession required his
immediate return, and her uncle gave a
joyful consent to a marriage which he
considered a respectable way of disposing
of a burden, no delay was called for, and
the young couple w^ere soon on their way
home, married, and happy.
This union, although the parties had
perhaps ventured upon it too soon, was
one of singular felicity : Alicia was not
only affectionate, but grateful to her hus-
band for the change in her circumstances;
and having the good sense to know that
although her husband's rank in life called
for genteel appearances, yet that great
prudence w^as necessary, she readily
adopted every means of helping him in
28 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
her power, and was at once an honour to
him in the elegance of her person and
manners, and a source of economy in the
comfortable arrangement of his expenses ;
whilst he, charmed with all she did and
said, found her society equal to all his
wishes, and watched with delight the rose
of health revisit her cheek, and the light
of love and cheerfulness sparkle in her
eyes.
Dr. Launceston's practice increased
during the following winter, but it was
barely equal to his expenditure, as few
people choose to trust a young physician ;
but his situation was rich in well-founded
hope. Alas ! his prospects were soon
clouded — his hopes overthrown; within
one year after his marriage, his beloved,
his almost idolized wife, died, a few hours
after she had given birth to a little girl,
and in a manner wholly unexpected.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 29
This stroke was not less sudden than
overwhehning, and the unhappy man al-
most lost his reason for many days; and
even when he was enabled to recover a
little from the astounding; blow, he found
himself so utterly lost, wretched, and
bereaved, as to be unequal to the duties
of his profession — incapable of attending
to those who naturally reminded him of
his loss; and it appeared as if all the
accumulations of his mind, all the energies
of his soul, had sunk into the grave with
his young and beautiful Alicia; anf) the
sight of her ill fated child served only to
renew and sharpen the severity of his
affliction.
One gentleman, to whom he had been
very successful in his medical attentions,
gave to his situation not only the sincere
pity which many felt, but those personal
attentions and sincere proofs of friendship
D 2
30 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
which it called for. Believing that nothing
would so effectually relieve the mourner as
a change of scene, and a necessity for some
exertion under novel circumstances, he
proposed to him to take a voyage to the
East Indies, and engaged to procure such
recommendations for him as could not fail
to ensure the means of fortune, if he chose
to settle there, and would increase the
circle of his friends in case of his return ;
also to procure his reception as a surgeon
during the voyage, for the purpose of les-
sening his expenses.
This plan was gratefully acceded to by
the afflicted man, and in a short time
arranged, although the poor babe, the sole
remnant of his Alicia, and the bearer of
her name and features, had during the
short period of its existence, made a con-
siderable progress in his affections. The
child was now with a good nurse in the
ALICIA AND IIER AUNT. 31
neighbouring village of Musselburgh, to
whom he paid two years in advance, his
sood friend ofFerins; to become the future
guardian of the infant. The little pro-
perty which remained after his outfit, he
converted into ready merchandize for his
own use upon his lauding ; and he set sail,
with the esteem and good wishes of all
who had ever known him.
Dr. Launceston wrote to his friend Mr.
Mackinnon from the Cape of Good Hope,
and although his style still proved him a
prey to painful reflection, this gentleman
trusted that he was not a slave to sorrow,
and his friendly heart rejoiced in the part
he had acted towards him; but within a
year he learned, with feelings of bitter
anguish, that the ship in which Dr. Laun-
ceston sailed was wrecked in the Bay of
Bengal, and that neither the property or
the life of a single individual was saved.
32 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
although it sunk within the view of many.
At the time this account from his friend at
Calcutta reached Mr. Mackinnon, he was
far gone in consumption, that being the
complaint from which Dr. Launceston had,
in a certain degree, relieved him; and the
news so entirely overpowered the little
strength he had remaining, that, in a few
hours after receiving it, he breathed his
last.
The little Alicia had just passed her
second birthday, when the double death of
her friend and her father reached her nurse,
and overwhelmed her with consternation.
This poor woman had fulfilled her duties
to the bereaved little orphan with care and
tenderness, but her humble comforts had
all been overthrown by the reception of
her little guest. The sum of money which
Dr. Launoeston had placed in her hands
being a much larger property than they
had ever possessed before, had been seized
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 33
by the husband, aQcl spent by him in idle
and vicious pursuits; and his family were
now involved in poverty from his miscon-
duct ; and he was awaiting with impatience
the day when he could demand a further
sum in advance for the helpless little one,
whom he declared he would not harbour
in his house upon trust, for more than a
single week. The poor woman flew in
agony to the relations of Mr. Mackinnon,
and found that, with the usual delusion
peculiar to his complaint, he had con-
fided in amendment, had made no will,
and that his large property descended to
an heir, who being a mere boy, was in-
capable of making any provision for the
child in question, even if he had the in-
clination.
Kendered alive to all the means of aid,
by the pressing necessity of the case and
the brutal threats of her husband, the nurse
34 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
by turns addressed herself to all whom she
considered likely to inform her where the
relations of Dr. Launceston and his lady
resided; and at length learned, from a wo-
man who had been their servant, the ad-
dress of that uncle in London, from whose
house her late mistress had married. She
then procured an intelligent neighbour to
write to this gentleman, stating the case ;
but the appeal was thrice made before any
answer was received. In this letter the
uncle of Mrs. Launceston declared his
utter inability to provide for the child in
question; but he enclosed an address to
his eldest brother, who being a bachelor,
might with much more propriety take other
people's children than himself, who was
but a younger brother, and burdened with
a family of his own.
To the elder Mr. Powis, who was a
country gentleman residing on the patri-
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 35
monial estate, application was made, which
was immediately refused, with various
invectives against the child's father for
having married a girl of no family — reflec-
tions upon its mother for having married a
Scotchman — and observations on the utter
impossibility of a man having anything to
do with a young child, who had neither
wife nor family.
What was to be done now the poor wo-
men could not conceive, for there are not
in Scotland poorhouses, into which desolate
children so situated may be put, although
the poor are supported by charity ; many a
tear of pity did she shed on the unconscious
babe, and many a fruitless inquiry did she
make after English, Welsh, and Scotch
relatives; but week after week passed,
and no tidings were heard of any.
At this time the aunt to whom I alluded
36 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
as the only relative of Dr. Launceston,
lived, in a neat little cottage near Stirling,
on an annuity of forty pounds a-year, which,
in that cheap country, was equal to all her
wants, and even enabled her to be a person
of some little importance in her own circle ;
but her existence was scarcely known be-
yond it. She had heard of her nephew's
marriaore, for he had sent her the usual
compliment on that occasion ; but, on the
death of his young wife, the distraction of
his mind had induced him to omit inform-
ing her of it until he was on the eve of
quitting his country, when he gave her a
melancholy account of all that had befallen
him in the preceding year — mentioned his
future intentions, the situation of his poor
babe, the kindness of Mr. Mackinnon —
and, lastly, the fact, that before she could
receive his communication, he should be
on board the Africana East-Indiaman, on
his way for Calcutta.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT, 37
Mrs. Catherine Launceston was a mem-
ber of the English Church, and as there
were very few of that community in Stir-
ling, each party were well known to each
other ; and in returning home from church
one day, she remarked to a neighbour that
she was sorry to observe a certain family,
of their acquaintance, in deep mourning.
" Yet it were high time they put it on,
for it's a gude quarter since the news cam'
tul 'em o' their puir son's shipwrack, I'se
warrant ye ; but they wad needs gae to
inquire ower and ower again, in the vain
hopes o' finding a true story were a fause
one."
" There's naething wonderful in that,
neighbour," said Mrs. Catherine, who sin-
cerely sympathized with the mourners,
and could readily enter into their feelings,
" Why true — we aw like to turn a deaf
ear to a waefu' warning ; but still, if the
E
38 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
Africana went doon as she did to the bot-
tom o' the girt deep, 'twas no' likely their
Tammy suld come back agin."
"The Africana!" exclaimed Mrs. Ca-
therine.
" Aye, sure — that's the very name on't,
as ye might ha' read in the Gazetteer lang
syne."
Mrs. Catherine hastened to her own
house : she opened her bureau, read again
the letter of her nephew, sent to the house
of a friend to borrow the Gazette, and as-
sured herself of the fact ; she then retired
to her own room, where she continued
several hours; and on coming out of it,
announced to her maid, and a neighbour
who had stepped in to see her, an intention
of setting out for Edinburgh in the morning.
" I fear," said the latter, " something
sorrowful takes ye, my gude body ; for I
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 39
weel ken ye have a great avarsion fra
sleeping in a strange bed."
" It is a sorrow indeed ; the only son of
my brother James has lost his life in the
Indies."
" Yere brother James, Mrs. Catherine,
was e'n a strange brother to you: if it had
nae been for the annuity ye gat by your
godmother, who was no kin at all, ye wad
ha' been badly off."
" This is nae time to remember these
things ; James died in the flower of his age,
and his faults lie under the turf with him.
He left a brave boy behind him, and that
boy has left a wee bit bantling, without a
mother. I must just go seek it, puir lam-
my."
" But what can ye do with a child, Mrs.
Catherine ? they'r e'en plaguy tilings for
maiden bodies, and take muckle to rear
them, especially girlies."
" I have a heart and hands — though I'm
40 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
not young, neither am I old: the Heavenly
Father who bestows the gift, will doubtless
uphold it."
With this hope in her heart, Mrs. Cathe-
rine set out on her benevolent errand ; and
she soon attained the object of her search,
whom she found a little, ragged, meagre
child, of betwixt two and three years old.
The air of squalid dirt and extreme penury
which pervaded, at this time, the wretched
habitation of the nurse, impressed her with
the most unfavourable idea of the people ;
but the affection which the poor child ma-
nifested for its foster-mother, proved at
least that personal unkindness had not been
added to scanty food and manifest neglect,
since she had great difficulty in persuading
the poor little orphan to accompany her.
All demands upon her purse were paid by
Mrs Catherine, and many necessaries
were likewise purchased ; after which the
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 41
new-found relation accompanied her to the
cottage^ which was destined to be hence-
forward her pleasant home.
E 2
CHAP. IV.
Although Mrs. Catherine had never been
accustomed to children, yet her native good
sense and benevolence, aided by her religi-
ous perception of duty, rendered her a most
excellent preceptress, as well as tender
friend, to the helpless little being commit-
ted to her care. The child grew up in
health, beauty, and activity, beneath her
auspicious management, and soon became
the delight of her heart, and the great ob-
ject of her hopes and desires. These plea-
sures were, of course, blended with much
solicitude, as it soon became evident that
her expences were considerably increased;
and when little Alicia became six years old,
and it was thought desirable to send her to
a neighbouring day-school, Mrs. Catherine
found it absolutely necessary to part with
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 43
the little maiden, who had hitherto waited
upon her and her young charge, and under-
take herself the most menial offices. This
change she not only cheerfully adopted,
but she gave up every little indulgence to
which she had ever been habituated, for
the purpose of aiding the improvement of
Alicia, and of rendering her personal ap-
pearance equally respectable with those
children who were better provided for, in
the possession of wealthy parents.
During the leisure of her former life,
Mrs. Catherine had been a great reader of
history, poetry, and divinity, and she now
called upon the stores of her own mind to
enrich and amuse the daily opening intel-
lect of Alicia, to whom she conveyed such
a portion of knowledge as tended to in-
crease her desire for more, and not less to
awaken her taste than to stimulate her in-
dustry. The lessons of Mrs. Catherine
44 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
were frequently given under circumstances
the most pleasurable and impressive, as
'they generally took place during long ram-
bles in the beautiful and romantic vicinity
of Stirling, where every object that sur-
rounded them was calculated to elucidate
historical facts, or excite sublime emotions.
From the Castle-hill, on which they would
frequently walk in the summer evenings,
the good aunt would point out to her at-
tentive niece the site of many a well-fought
field, and thus lead her mind not only to
recall important facts connected with the
history of her country, but that sense of
patriotism which, in binding our hearts to
the land we live in, teaches us to imbibe
the virtues for which we value it. Here
too she would recite legendary ballads, the
poems of Burns, or the songs of Allan
Kainsay, while the scenery which surround-
ed them aided the impressions of the poets
of nature and antiquity. Before them lay
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 45
stretched, as an ample carpet, the Carse of
Stirling, and as far as the eye could extend,
the silver Forth came rolling from his native
mountains, increasing in beauty and impor-
tance, as, in windings innumerable, he drew
near to this ancient abode of Caledonian
royalty ; Bannockburn, the heights of De-
mayit, the lofty range of Highland moun-
tains dignified with the epithet of Ben^
encircled the mighty landscape with a vast
imperishable frame, within whose bounda-
ries lay nearly all those objects of beauty
and interest which have since given birth
to the exquisite description of Sir Walter
Scott, which you will one day read with
the purest pleasure. No wonder then that
the enthusiasm of Alicia was excited, that
her heart was softened and her mind ex-
panded, and that she imbibed, with an in-
satiable thirst for knowledge and a laudable
desire of improvement, such love and gra-
titude towards her generous protectress, as
46 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
no circumstance in after life either tended
to subdue or weaken.
When Alicia was in her twelfth year, she
was so tall of her age, and remarkable in
her appearance, that many silly people
would frequently pay her foolish compli-
ments upon her person, in such a manner
as to create confusion to the child, and not
unfrequently raise indignation in her aunt.
— " Ah ! Aveel," they would say, " mais-
tress Katie, I warrant ye'll soon find a hus-
ban' for such a lassie as this'n. A pretty
face needs no bands to set it afF wi' ; and
some sonsie squire will suin ease yere heart
— sooner an' better, for I fear me yere
purse waxes lighter as yere darling waxes
aulder."
To which observation the sfood woman
would generally reply — " I hope my child
will never marry a man who looks no far-
ther than a face, for the love of mere
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 47
beauty will go a short way in married life.
If she's the lot to marry at all, I trust
she'll marry a guid man, and pruve a wor-
thy woman. But it shall be my care to
put the means of securing independence
into her own hands, and then she can
marry, or leave it alone, as may suit her
affections and agree wi' her principles."
Alicia observed, that whenever conver-
sation of this kind had occurred, poor Mrs.
Catherine would sit and think deeply for
many hours, often heaving sighs, and cast-
ing upon her looks of the utmost solici-
tude; and one day, after a long fit of ab-
straction, she rose hastily from her chair,
and exclaimed— " 'Tis no use to think —
my path is a plain one, though 'tis thorny :
and, with God's will, I'll begin fra this
hour."
As Mrs. Catherine spoke, she took a
48 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
cushion upon her knee, on which, when
she had a little leisure, she was accustomed
to weave the narrow-laced edging with
which her cap-borders were trimmed ; and
as she relapsed into silence, Alicia put on
her bonnet, and went to school, as usual.
On her return, she found her aunt sitting
as she had left her, but accompanied by a
person she had never seen before, who
appeared to be giving her instructions in
the art of lace making.
" Ye'll take yere evening walk without
me, my love, for I'm varry busy," said the
aunt.
Alicia complied, but found it very lonely,
for her young heart ached to think of the
labour to which her aunt was subjecting
herself, since she doubted not but she was
seriously beginning to learn a new art for
the sake of assisting her; and she returned
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 49
Lome in a state of great solicitude, vainly-
turning in her inexperienced mind every
possible way whereby she might assist her
aunt, and save her from an exertion, which,
smart and active as she was, could not fail
to be unpleasant to a person turned of
fifty.
For several days the same person regu-
larly came to give her aunt lessons, and
Alicia was rendered so busy, from being
obliged to attend to household duties on
her return from school, that she had not
leisure to indulge her cares ; but one after-
noon, on her return, she perceived her aunt
was at work in spectacles, which being an
aid Mrs. Catherine's sight had never re-
quired before, affected her exceedingly;
she burst suddenly into tears, and throwing
her arms round her neck, expressed, as
well as she was able, the pain she felt.
F
50 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
" Never cry for that, my sweet girlie —
rather be thankfu' that I have done without
glasses so long, and that such things are
given to aid puir downhill-going folks."
" But why cannot I be taught to make
Jace, dear aunty ? I will work all day, and
all night too, if you will permit me ; my
eyes are good, my fingers nimble."
'^ True, my hinny ; but it is dreery wark
and w^ee profit ; and you, my child, have a
mind for better things, and, after a few
years' struggling on my part, will be able
to exert yourself to far better effect. I
hope to see ye earn yere bread, 'tis true,
Alicia; but, with God's blessing on my
endeavours, it shall be as becomes a gentle-
woman, and worthy o' yere father's family."
The good lady then informed Alicia that
she had been for a lonsr time castino; about
for the means of giving her a superior edu-
cation, in order to enable her, when at a
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 51
suitable age, to undertake the charge of in-
structing the daughters of some person of
rank and fortune, not doubting but she had
yet the means of procuring such a situation
for her ; that, after innumerable inquiries,
she at length found that, for the forty
pounds per annum which constituted her
whole income, her niece might be properly
boarded and taught every elegant accom-
plishment in France ; and that, in the course
of the next two months, a person, who was
leaving Stirling for the purpose of visiting
a relation at Boulogne, had undertaken to
convey her thither.
This extraordinary news agitated Alicia
exceedingly ; curiosity, natural to her age,
an ardent desire to attain knowledge and
to become useful prompted her to rejoice
in it ; but the thought of leaving that dear
relative, who was not merely her only friend,
but hitherto her only companion, was very
painful, and the idea of the sacrifice to
52 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
which it would subject her aunt for a time
appeared an insuperable objection. Mrs.
Catherine, however, obviated all difficulties,
by insisting upon the advantages that would
accrue ; and while her own heart bled with
the thoughts of parting, and her mind na-
turally shrunk from the new and dependent
state to which she was about to subject her-
self, she yet never dwelt on these sorrows
for a moment before the object of her
bounty, but exerted herself with double
vigilance to learn the art she had adopted,
and encourao;ed Ahcia to maice the new
clothes which she purchased for her, with
a thousand kind words and encouraging
prophecies for that future which she yet
inwardly dreaded to encounter.
Agreeable to that noble generosity, that
magnanimity of kindness, which marked
her whole conduct, Mrs. Catherine kept
from the eye of Alicia every circumstance
which could wound her young and affec-
tionate heart, and rendered the circum-
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 53
stances of her voyage, the future disposal
of her time, and, above all, earnest exhor-
tations to preserve her religious sentiments
untainted, the sole objects of her discourse.
Under this prudent management Alicia was
enabled to depart with tolerable composure,
considering the severity of the trial ; but to
the aunt the pangs of parting were indeed
bitter. Within a short time, however, she
arranged all her little plans, parted with her
cottage, sold her furniture, paid those debts
which the outfitting of the orphan and the
expence of her long journey had compelled
her to contract, and then, with a small sum
of money, a scanty wardrobe, and a sad
heart, she set out for the city of Glasgow,
where she was utterly unknown, to shroud
herself in a narrow lodginij:, and seek
amongst strangers the means of precarious
existence, fully determined that every shil-
ling of her income v^^hould be devoted to
the excellent purpose for which he had so
nobly assigned it.
CHAP. Y.
The person to whose care our wandering
orphan was now assigned, was a respect-
able merchant, and the father of a family ;
he was, therefore, a desirable guardian du-
ring their journey ; and he fulfilled consci-
entiously the task he had undertaken, and
placed Alicia under respectable protection
in a French convent, where she was re-
ceived with kindness, and furnished with
every means of improvement required in
her situation. The diflnculty and the no-
velty of her education, by compelling her
to perpetual exertion, so occupied her
mind, that she was unable to dwell much
on any other subject than those which
were connected with her own situation
during the day; but never did she lie
down on her little mattress without im-
ploring a blessing on her far-distant friend
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 55
— never did she hail the light of mornino;
without praying that its comforts might
be doubled on the head of her beloved aunt.
Accustomed as she had been to an hum-
ble and retired path of life, the continual
sight of the same faces, the recurrence of
same duties, were by no means irksome
to her, as in fact her sphere of society was
considerably larger in the convent than it
had ever been in the dwelling-place of her
aunt ; the only thing which annoyed her,
was the circumstance of being enclosed
within high Avails, and unable to view the
wide and varied face of nature, as she was
wont to do in the suburbs of Stirlins^ ; a
narrow garden, a few stunted trees, and
formal parterres of flowers, were a poor
exchange for lofty mountains, murmuring
streams, an ancient castle, and an immense
horizon. The pompous pageantries and
sweet music of the church, the neat habits
and subdued deportment of the nuns, the
56 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
air of sanctity which pervaded all around
her, and the devotion which all professed,
were, for a short time, circumstances of the
most attractive and interesting character,
and awakened her to the closest observa-
tion and the deepest research of which she
was capable. She soon found that the most
awful pageants of the church were not so
truly solemn as the scenes she had wit-
nessed in her own country, in the admi-
nistering of the sacrament, which yet was
often polluted by unworthy associations, as
her present abode was by idle frivolities,
and she rejoiced in being authorized to pro-
fess a creed which, devoid of the high
pretentions of either church, combines all
that is excellent in both.
Among the young girls who were pen-
sioners like herself, were several English
ones, who were fond of separating them-
selves from the rest, and of conversing in
their own lano;uag;e ; with this little knot of
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 57
ter countrywomen Alicia would not join,
because she knew that it was her express
duty to make herself mistress of the French
language, and to speak it with the greatest
purity. Her conformity to the wishes of
the abbess in this particular, ensured her
the goodwill of this lady, who was a kind-
hearted and accomplished woman, and
though a stranger to the world without,
was yet so well acquainted with all within
her own little dominion, that she was a
most valuable instructor to one whose
future duties led her to the task of study-
ing the human heart and mind. From
her Alicia learned to scan the capacity, to
examine the disposition of those around
her, and to become aware that the first
duties of a teacher are self-o'overnment,
and the best lesson she can bestow is an
upright and consistent example.
With the various cabals, petty intrigues.
58 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
and romantic friendships, which usually
distract the minds and consume the time
of girls so situated, Alicia had nothing to
do. The letters of her aunt, though few,
were to her invaluable, because they kept
her mind steadily fixed upon the real object
of which she was sent thither; and every
line that was traced by an unsteady hand,
as it bespoke the advancing age or infirmi-
ties of that invaluable friend, called upon
her anew for that exertion which would
enable her to restore ease to the declining
years of one who was more than mother to
her. As her mind and person advanced
to maturity, every step increased the sense
of her obligation, and her desire of
evincing how well she had used the means
of improvement; and on attaining her
sixteenth year, she earnestly entreated
her aunt to recall her, and to provide her
some means of exerting her talents and
industry for their mutual welfare.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 59
It may be naturally supposed that the
heart of the good aunt yearned to embrace
the child of her adoption ; but as she was
well aware that Alicia was yet too young
to be entrusted by a prudent parent with
the control of her children, with her usual
oblivion of self, she determined that she
should remain till she had passed her
seventeenth birthday — a resolution that
she immediately communicated, at the
same time informinor her that she would,
during the year that remained, endeavour
to look up her friends, and procure her,
if possible, a situation in some English
family of distinction, believing that it
would be, in many respects, the most
advanta£ii;cous for her.
Poor Mrs. Catherine at this time felt
that she was encompassed with more diffi-
culties than ever : a poor lacemaker, living
in obocure lo.lgings in a trading town, \v;is
60 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
utterly unequal to claiming a friend of
sufficient importance to recommend a
young lady of untried abilities to a family
of distinction; and the few respectable
connections Mrs. Catherine had formerly
enjoyed, were either removed by time or
circumstances, or had so entirely lost sight
of her for the last five years, and would
be so shocked to learn her actual situation,
that she knew not how to present either
herself or her petition before them.
After various cogitations, she deter-
mined, at all events, once more to array
herself as a gentlewoman and set out for
Edinburgh, although it would now take
the last pound of her little hoardings to
accomplish her wishes. — ''Yes," said she,
hesitating, "it will take all I have: and
what to do I really know not, for the puir
child's journey will cost a round sum; and
shuld I get hir into the house of a braw
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 61
English lairdle, she will want fine claes
and gay accoutrements, or the very ser-
vants will look scornfu' at her and the
bairnies deride her ; 'twould be better for
her to twirl dree bobbins in her auld
auntie's garret, than bear the consciousness
of a high-gifted soul and a quick feeling
heart, under the sneers of a proud waitin'-
woman, and the snarling of a petted
bairn."
Again she considered the subject, and
the necessity of the journey rose more
strongly to her view, since it appeared evi-
dent that, in her present situation, she could
do nothing : and she had, on the mother's
side, several rich relations, with whom she
had ever been on the best terms, although
they knew each other only by name (but,
in Scotland, the ties of blood are held sa-
cred through the most distant branches of
consanguinity,) and to them she determined
to apply for counsel and assistance.
G
62 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
To Edinburgh, therefore, she went, and
after waitino; to recover a little from her
fatigue, and arrange her plans, she subdued,
as far as she could, that repugnance to
venturino; over the threshold of a rich and
unknown relative for the purposes of solici-
tation, which was natural to her, both as a
woman of independent mind, and retired
habits ; and long after she had put on her
black padusoy gown, and her cardinal satin
cloak, and arranged her cap and pinners to
her satisfaction, she could not determine
whether to pay her respects first to Mrs.
Campbell, the wife of a rich India adven-
turer, or Lady Lawrence, the widow of a
Highland baronet. — " If I gae to my cou-
sin Campbell's, I'll maybe be laughed at
by the flunkies, and looked coldly at by
her; for she has lived in a land of slaves
till she's likely to have forgotten the claims
of the free. Yet her sister Sally, though
she's my leddy noo, is not like to have a
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 63
mair tender heart ; for she forsook the lover
of her youth to marry a wicked auld mon,
for a title and jointure."
These cogitations passed her mind as she
slowly made her way up George street,
gazing at all she saw in surprise, and being
herself an object of much attention to the
gay and fashionable promenaders who pass-
ed. At length she recollected that a very
worthy gentleman, w4io formerly lived at
Stirling, must reside near the spot where
slie then was, and she resolved to call upon
him, and take his advice in the first place.
Two young gentlemen were descending
from the steps of a house just as she made
this resolution, and observing that they
both were looking at her, she inquired of
them if they knew where " Maister Stuart
livit in that part ? "
" We have this moment parted from
64 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
him; this is his house," replied one of
them.
The footman, who was closing the door
at the time, now re-opened it; and the
young gentlemen, who were still atten-
tively examining the tall, stately, antique
figure of Mrs. Catherine, heard her say to
the servant — "Mrs. Catherine Launceston
wad speak wi' yer maister."
"Mrs. Catherine Launceston ! " exclaimed
one of them ; " well, this is a most curious
circumstance; I have sought this good lady
diligently for above a year, and now pop
upon her when I had lost all hopes of find-
ing her." So saying, he ran into the hall
of Mr. Stuart, and after a short apology,
informed her that his name was Mackin-
non, and that, about a year ago, on taking
possession of the house of his late uncle,
he found a large mail trunk, on which was
nailed a card, signifying that it was Mrs.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 65
Launceston's property, and inscribed thus
by his deceased relation ; that a servant of
that good gentleman's informed him that
the clothes belonged to an orphan whom
his master had undertaken to provide for,
and he had therefore made every possible
inquiry after the child and her relations,
but found that her nurse was dead, her
husband gone to sea, and it was only known
by a neighbour that the child was removed,
almost fifteen years ago, by a Mrs. Katie
Launceston, "whom I hope, madam, to
find in you," added the speaker ; " and I
heartily rejoice that a lucky chance has
thus favoured me."
" Talk not of chance, I pray ye, young
gentleman," said Mrs. Catherine — " it was
a far higher Pooer that directed ye to the
means of cheering an anxious woman, and
of aiding a desolate orphan."
After a short interview with Mr. Stuart,
G 2
66 ALICIA AKD HER AUNT.
which proved to young Mackinnon not
only the identity but the worth of his new
acquaintance, a coach was called, and she
accompanied him to his house, where, as
the key had long been lost, a carpenter was
procured to force the lock of the trunk.
Had any doubts remained as to Alicia's
right to this property, they would have
been now fully removed, as the name of
her mother, at full length, was inscribed
within the lid twice over, as Powis and
Launceston.
The pleasure and gratitude Mrs. Cathe-
rine expressed gave her considerable inte-
rest in the eyes of young Mackinnon, and
he pressed her so hospitably to take up
her abode in his house during her stay at
Edinburgh, that she consented to it, on his
assuring her that he would obey her wishes,
and pursue his engagements as usual, and
leave her to the care of his housekeeper.
Mr. Mackinnon, however, dined at home
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 67
the first day, and in the interim Mrs.
Catherine devoutly lifted up her heart to
Heaven in praise, and then addressed her-
self to examining the contents of the box,
not without many fears that, although
highly acceptable, there would yet be
found few things which would suit Alicia,
as fashion had gone through a complete
revolution during the period of her infancy.
Happily she soon found the treasure far
surpatesed her hopes, as the box not only con-
tained a neat assortment of useful apparel,
but all the plate the young couple were
worth, a handsome gold watch, and many
articles of valuable jewellery set in an
old-fashioned manner, which had evidently
belonged to the family of the Powises;
there was even a small purse, containing
between three and four pounds in gold and
silver, which had undoubtedly belonged to
poor Mrs. Launceston, and been hastily
placed with other things in this receptacle.
During the dinner-hour Mrs. Catherine
68 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
became well acquainted with her enter-
tainer, who was a genteel and amiable
young man, and, as it appeared, about to
be married to one of the daughters of her
cousin, Mrs. Campbell. He therefore
readily entered into her views, and in every
respect assisted her, first by purchasing the
plate, which she judged it right to dispose
of, and afterwards by accompanying her
himself to the houses of Colonel Campbell
and Lady Lawrence, where she was re-
ceived with great respect, and her desires
promoted in every possible way for the
benefit of her neice. She therefore left
Edinburgh much happier than she had
entered it, and returned to her humble
lodging and wearisome occupation, in the
hope that she should soon exchange both
for a happier situation; but yet fully
resolved to continue her plan of endurance,
until her dependent child should be com-
pletely established in the situation which
she had endeavoured to procure for her.
CHAP. VL
In the course of the following winter, Lady-
Lawrence recommended Alicia in such a
manner to the Countess of Lammermuir,
who had determined on educating her
daughters in Eno^land, and residinsj with
them in the vicinity of London, that she
was induced to write to her, engage her,
and fix the time when she would expect to
find her at a villa she had taken on the
banks of the Thames.
Alicia left the convent with the good
wishes of all who had known her, and with
a beating heart returned to her native island
— not, however, without an earnest desire
of continuing her journey northward, and
once more clasping to her heart the gener-
70 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
ous protector of her youth, the more than
mother, whom she so entirely loved. As
circumstances denied her this indulgence,
she submitted as well as she was able,
and prepared to enter upon her duties
with conscientious zeal and unremitting
vigilance.
The Countess of Lammermuir was a wi-
dow, in what she called the prime of life,
but others termed it autumn ; she had been
very handsome, but having contemplated
her own features until she deemed them
the perfection of beauty, she had contracted
an aversion to that property in any other
person ; and therefore, when she saw Alicia,
who was now in the bloom of seventeen,
she unfortunately became somewhat dis-
gusted with her features, and by no means
accorded her the gracious reception for
which the orphan stranger humbly but ar-
dently sighed.
ALICIA AND HER AUKT. 71
Her manners disarmed the countess, and
she told her, with an air of condescending
encouragement, that provided she was pru-
dent and willin«: to bear confinement, she
would undoubtedly find herself very happy,
as the two young creatures, her daughters,
were absolute angels in their dispositions,
and naturally so clever, that it would be
really a pleasure to teach them.
Alicia was surprised to find, in Lady Em-
ma and Lady Augustine, tall girls of four-
teen and sixteen years, but so totally un-
cultivated in mind and unformed in manners
that, so far at least, they might be classed
with children. Their external appearance
was not less unpromising, for they were
unfashionably and even shabbily dressed ;
and in the meanness of their attire she felt
comforted with the idea that little splen-
dour would be exacted fro'm herself, and
that nearly the whole of her liberal salary
72 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
would go to comfort the excellent friend
to whom she was so deeply indebted.
Happily for Mrs. Catherine, at the very
time when Alicia's situation was procured,
she had agreed to work one more year for
her present employers, and therefore the
flattering letters of her dear child did not
involve her in those difficulties which would
inevitably have ensued had she ventured to
appropriate her income to her own wants
too soon. The countess was fond of dress-
ing in the most gay and expensive manner,
of keeping an hospitable table, and giving
entertainments in the most splendid style :
in order to do this she kept her children ill
clothed and ill fed, and, hitherto, ill edu-
cated ; and wherever she could exact credit
with impunity, she totally omitted all pay-
ment; and the poor but patient tradesman,
the faithful and unassuming servant, were
ever forgotten in the day of payment, even
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 73
when their services called most imperatively
for reward. This was the case with Alicia,
who being new to the world, extremely
anxious to perform her duty, and naturally
active and ingenious, had been led to con-
ciliate the lady by engaging in various little
services besides those of instruction; and
was in fact soon made a perfect slave — as
secretary, milliner, semptress, and orna-
mental artist to the family. Those kind-
nesses beyond the line of her profession,
which were at first received as favours,
were soon considered as duties, which were
demanded as rights and exacted as daily
labours; and in the course of a few months
her situation became nearly insupportable.
The pale looks and dejected spirits of
one who was rather their friend and com-
panion than their governess, awoke the pity
of the young ladies, and roused them from
the state of inert indolence in which they
H
74 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
had hitherto lived, into one of comparative
energy and considerable imi)rovement ; for
Alicia's sake they attended to their tasks,
practised their music, and began to con-
sider also the higher ends of their existence;
and in a short time improved themselves so
much, that even their mother began to see
that she could not much longer keep them
immured in the nursery. Selfish to the last,
the countess now concluded that her own
interest would be best consulted by exhibit-
ing her daughters, and she became suddenly
as anxious to dress and form them for
society, as she had hitherto been to keep
them down and hide from the world.
Alicia had been nearly two years in her
present office, without receiving the most
trifling remuneration, and although her own
wants could be borne, the idea of never
transmitting any thing to her aunt became
intolerable, and she therefore looked for-
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 75
ward with the hio-hest satisfaction to the
time when she should be dismissed from
her ladyship's service, not doubting but she
should soon be reinstated in a situation less
arduous, and be at least gratified with the
power of visiting her aunt, and offering her
the means of increased accommodation.
At length the day of release from more
than Egyptian bondage was announced,
together with the welcome information that
the countess had spoken to a friend, who
had written to another friend, who knew
a Lady Westhampton, in Yorkshire, that
had a little family about her, for whom she
would probably be glad to engage Miss
Launceston's services.
Alicia, with many thanks, ventured, with
reddening cheeks and hesitating tongue, to
suggest her great want of money, and her
hopes that her ladyship would
" Money ! — oh, you can't expect much
money from the wife of a country baronet;
76 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
you must make your own agreement. Miss
Launceston — with that I can have nothing
to do."
Alicia was sorry to trouble her ladyship,
but she wanted money for h^Y present occa-
sions.
" Oh, that is another affair. I shall send
to you, of course, at the proper time."
That time came not, and the day of de-
parture drew nigh ; Lady Lammermuir was
ever too busy or too haughty, or, in some
cases, too agreeable, to be intruded upon,
and one note of modest entreaty after ano-
ther was despatched, until it was disco-
vered that it would not be possible for her
to leave the house without cash, when she
received a bill of twenty pounds, and an
intimation that pressing for her salary was
impertinent and ungrateful in one who
must owe her future success in life to the
recommendation of the countess.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 77
Grieyed, mortified, and disappointed,
Alicia, thus portioned, set out for Carlisle,
to which place Mrs. Catherine had removed
six months before, for the sake of being a
step nearer to her protigte, and yet in a
place where her little income would afford
the means of existence. Had the niece on
whom she lavished so much returned to her
with the wealth of India in either hand, she
could not have been received with more
joy, or approved with more sincerity; and
her evident disappointment and vexation
only served to render her entertainer more
abundant in kindness, and profuse in ten-
der re-assurance — "Oh, never fear, honey,
but yere next voyage on the ocean of life
will be far better than the first: we maun
all buy our experience ; saft breezes follow
bitter frosts — the sweet violet hersel' is the
child o' hoary winter."
Never had Alicia been so sensible of the
H 2
78 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
happy disposition and superior character of
her aunt, as during the single month she had
now the happiness to pass with her, for
never before could she perceive how inti-
mately the cheerfulness of her temper, the
benignity and benevolence of her heart,
were connected with the purity of her faith,
and the sublimity of that hope, which, whilst
it spoke of earthly things, yet ever looked
beyond them. She found, too, that, even
with her bounded means, she yet helped
many, either by activity or good counsel ;
and that, stranger as she was, most of her
neighbours knew and respected her ; and
so much personal attention did she receive
during this visit, that her spirits, worn out
by the fruitless toil and the oppressive con-
tumely she had endured, again rose to their
wonted equanimity, and the glow of health
and pleasure re-animated her faded cheek.
A few neat muslin dresses, purchased at
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 79
little expence, and made by her own hands,
were all the preparation she was enabled
to make for re-entering the world ; and she
once more bade adieu to the relation who
w^as more dear to her than ever, and whose
declining years and increased wants seemed
to o'ive her a more than common claim, not
only on her love, but her personal services,
with the deepest regret, often wishing that
any mode could be devised for her to gain
the means of support, without dividing two
people so well calculated to comfort and
sustain each other.
CHAP. VIL
Alicia travelled in very low spirits for
many miles, but when she approached the
mansion of Sir John Westhampton, the
extraordinary beauty of the surrounding
scenery, the wide expanse of hill and val-
ley, wooded moorlands and cultivated
meadows, which charmed her, diffused a
soothing influence over her spirits, and she
looked forward with hcfpe and pleasure —
" Surely, said she internally, " I may now
hope to enjoy the sweet face of nature, as
I did in the days of my childhood. I shall
no longer be locked up in the walls of a
nunnery, nor condemned to the more gall-
ing imprisonment of living in a back par-
lour all day long, to look out upon the
walls and chimneys of Hammersmith, yet
conscious that the princely Thames was
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 81
flowing within a hundred yards of me, and
that objects of interest and beauty sur-
rounded me on every side, from which I
was ever excluded."
The postchaise which she had taken from
the last market-town now stopped at the
house, and with trembling steps and a beat-
ing heart, such as those only can conceive
who are thus condemned to seek for friends
among strangers, she entered the hall.
A respectable-looking woman, whom she
concluded to be the housekeeper, addressed
her with much respect, but in a dialect so
strong, that had she not lately parted from
her aunt, it would have been very uncouth
to her ears ; but it now sounded like that
of long-remembered accents, and was plea-
sant and soothing to her mind. She was
shewn into a very pleasant bedroom, where
every thing was provided that could tend
82 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
to lier comfort ; a respectable maid soon
followed to assist her toilet, and the house-
keeper departed to procure her that re-
freshment which she insisted was necessary,
observing that her leady wer gone oot for a
ride, not expecting Miss for these twa
hours, and wad never forgi' her if she did
not pay proper attention to a stranger.
After adjusting her dress, Alicia obeyed
the summons of the good woman, and was
conducted into a neat sitting-room, in
which, from perceiving books, globes, and
a work-table, she apprehended her future
hours were destined to be spent. Here
she found, upon an ample tray, abundant
proofs of delicate and substantial provi-
sion, which formed a striking contrast to
the meagre fare and ostentatious parade of
her late residence, and every other obser-
vation she made, confirmed the idea that
her situation was greatly improved; but
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 83
extreme solicitude rendered her unequal
to profiting by the good things before her,
and her very soul seemed to live in her
ears, until the return of the lady who was
so important to her.
At length she heard the wheels of a
carriagej and soon afterwards, many steps
ascending the stairs, among which those
of the housekeeper were distinct from
their heaviness; and a very sweet voice
was heard to address her with — "You did
perfectly right, my good Parker ; and as
we are all hungry, we will join her."
The door opened, and a lady, about
thirty, simply dressed, but having an air of
superior elegance and even high fashion,
advanced towards Alicia, and welcomed
her with equal grace and cordiality. She
was accompanied by four children of dif-
ferent ages, who gazed upon her with looks
84 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
of awe, which were soon exchano;ed for
those of confidence; and they would have
soon encircled her chair, if they had not
been told by their mamma to assemble
round the table, as she knew they all wanted
something.
The children were soon fed, and dis-
missed for half an hour to the nursery,
when Lady Westhampton took refreshment
herself, and pressed it with courtesy upon
her guest; she made many inquiries after
her journey, spoke of her good aunt, and
gave her to understand that it was through
her relation, Mrs. Campbell, that she had
heard of her, and that the Countess of
Lammermuir had merely answered her
letters of inquiry, which arose from her
knowing that the young ladies were of an
age to dispense with her instructions ; of
course Alicia was under no obligation to
the proud woman who had condescended
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 85
to the meanness of renclerino; her recom-
mendation a payment for the services of
Alicia.
They were still engaged in agreeable
conversation, when the opening of a dis-
tant door announced the return of the
children.
"Oh! here comes my family, whom I
must now personally introduce to you.
Miss Launceston, premising with the ob-
servation that they are neither better nor
worse than other people's. By their papa
they are properly treated, for, with great
tenderness, he has firmness and solidity;
but their mother unhappily cannot boast
his good qualities.
" I believe mammas are in general too
indulgent," said Alicia, with a smile.
" That is by no means my greatest sin,"
returned the lively lady: "'tis true, I
I
86 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
thought my first two babes were most an-
o'elic creatures — all innocence and loveli-
ness, and such like ; but when I had two
more, I found out that children were trou-
blesome, disagreeable, wayward little ani-
mals ; and, now 1 have half a dozen, I am
apt to consider them in both points of
view, with the exception of my eldest, who
is just set out to Eton, and is, we hope,
a clever boy — and the youngest, who is a
lovely plaything not able yet to walk, and,
of course, not subject to running into mis-
chief. — This tall, ruddy, vulgar-looking
girl, Laura, is my eldest daughter; she is
turned eleven years old — has been hitherto
educated with her brother, so far as she
can be said to be educated; she reads tole-
rably, writes intolerably, and spells abomi-
nably; but, on the other hand, she is a
much better accountant than I shall ever
be, and the housemaid has taught her to
sew very prettily ; she is also not ignorant
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 87
of Latin, because she took lesson;? witli
her brother of the curate, to please him,
certainly not with the slightest intention
of becoming a learned lady, for slander
itself would acquit Laura of being affected
or pretending."
"Has Miss Westhampton commenced
learning any of the usual accomplishments,
madam ?"
"No; but she has, with all the avidity
of natural genius, attained many unusual
ones; for instance, she can load a gun bet-
ter than her elder brother, and discharge it
as well; she can follow the hounds, either
on foot or horseback, admirably, and excels
in accuracy at finding a fault or uttering
an holloa ; then she can pull peas with the
gardener, or shell them with the cook ; she
can discover hens' nests and feed turkies —
has a tender regard for cade lambs, and
not less for poor children and old women,
to whom she can trudge even through the
88 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
snow, to carry the soup slie has begged
from the cook, or the milk she has stolen
from the dairy. She has also an accurate
knowledge of the dialects of her own coun-
try, and can, with good effect, address a
beggar either in the Hull and Beverly style,
which, like the French, makes ou into 06>,
or like the Sheffield and Kotherham, which
sounds the same letters aw; I therefore
term her a literary prodigy, especially as
she understands the innumerable " I'ses"
of this district, which is at a great distance
from either; but I much doubt whether
she could articulate a syllable to a lady or
gentleman, or even to her own governess."
Alicia held out her hand, and Laura,
bashfully, awkwardly, but smilingly, took
it, and as if seeking protection from her
mamma's raillery, continued to stand close
to her chair.
a
This little snowdrop, always pale and
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 89
always hanging down her head. Miss Bet-
sey, is very different; delicate health for a
long time tied her to the nursery, and incli-
nation at this time unfortunately confirms
the bondage : the young lady is at present
a great reader, and very much of a quack
doctress, which, as the humour changes
in advancing life, will make her, in another
ten years, a sentimental Miss, full of me-
lancholy and moonlight — and, ten years
after that, a sickly, pining wife — an indo-
lent, useless mother — and finally, a refined
but wretched woman, with all the elements
of perverted intellect and acute sensibility
aiding her destruction."
"God forbid!" ejaculated Alicia, as she
2:azed with warm affection on the interest-
ing little girl.
" Now comes my son Frederic, for
whom, although a boy, I must bespeak
some share of your good offices, being well
aware that, under eight years, all boys are
I 2
90 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
best educated by our sex. I think I may
venture to say, that as this little fellow is
not six years yet, he may do credit to your
instructions, for he is an aiFectionate crea-
ture, and by no means a fool ; but he is
troubled with his mother's temper, for
which the only prescription, at his age, is
a good rod, or an hour's confinement in a
solitary closet. — Finally comes little John
— not four years old — by much the most
hopeful of your subjects, for the brilliance
of his intellect is already manifest from
the mathematical precision with which he
can quarter an orange, and the accuracy of
computation he displays in accumulating
sugar plums, as the old song says. Alas !
he cannot read, for which I hope you will
like him all the better ; and, to conclude
my introduction, like the first scene of an
old play, I may add —
"If to his share some little errors fall,
Look in his face, and you'll forget them all."
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 91
" It is indeed a lovely one," said Alica,
as she took the blue-eyed boy upon her
lap and kissed him.
''Well, I have then only to add, that
over these new subjects. Miss Launceston,
your reign is absolute ; not that I promise
neutrality, but I mean to insist on your
rights ; for, excuse me, you are so young,
and your expression of countenance is so
mild, and you have been living so long
under an arbitrary government, that it
seems my first duty to establish your
power. And now, my young dj-amatis
personce, as Miss Launceston must be
weary, we will say, exeunt omnesJ'^
In a moment they were all gone, and
Alicia was left for some hours to write to
her aunt, and consider on her plan of in-
struction to tlie unformed, but interesting,
children thus o-iven to her care.
CHAP. VIII.
When Alicia was introduced to Sir John
Westhampton, she found him indeed the
sensible and good man his lady had de-
clared him to be. He was tenderly, yet
judiciously, attached to his family, and he
treated with the highest respect that per-
son whom he wished his children to love,
honour, and imitate. He was fond of
field-sports, which were indeed necessary
for his health, for, though scarcely thirty-
five, he was too much inclined to feed ;
otherwise, he sought only for happiness in
his own family, and the occasional visits
of those friends and neighbours for whom
he could really feel esteem.
His lady, as a young, handsome, accom-
plished, and much-admired woman, had,
during the first years of their union, been
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 93
more fond of pleasure than her duties and
his fortune, though it Avas a noble one, had
permitted; and her winters in London had
caused some heartaches and many gentle
remonstrances on his part. Such was her
good sense, her sincere affection for him,
and the excellent principles in which she
had been educated, that she wisely gave up
this course in the very zenith of her attrac-
tions, and resolved henceforward to devote
herself to the duties of a wife and mother;
and it was now nearly five years since she
had visited the metropolis. Her vivacity,
her accomplishments, were given to her
own circle, and the consequence was an
increase of respect, love, and admiration,
on the part of her husband, almost unpa-
ralleled; and he was the more inclined to
render Alicia happy, because he perceived
that she was well calculated to be a desir-
able companion to his lady, and to keep
alive in her that taste for elegant pursuit,
94 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
and playful display of conversational talent,
which rendered her the charm of general
society, and the life of a more contracted
circle.
When Alicia became a little more do-
mesticated, she adopted towards each child
that course of study and mode of conduct
which was best calculated to correct, by
imperceptible means, the errors their mo-
ther had so ingenuously depicted, and to
improve the virtues and energies for which
she had given them credit. To Laura's
active, though uncultivated mind, she gave
a bias for feminine accomplishments, and
pruned the luxuriance of her talents to
render their exertion effectual; and as she
found her a most affectionate, warm-hearted
creature, who soon became excessively at-
tached to her, she found no difficulty in
persuading her to study for her sake, and
endeavour to excel, in order to please the
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 95
parents she loved, and the governess she
earnestly desired to gratify. There was less
difficulty in taming the exuberance of her
spirits, and compelling her to sit still and
think, than in rousing Betsy to exertion,
and winning her from the books over which
she perpetually pored, to take a lesson in
dancing, or partake a healthful stroll in the
fine country which surrounded them; and
delicate indeed was the task to guide a
mind so situated, into that narrow path of
propriety which will give to each duty that
which is its due ; and remember, that even
the best pursuits have their bounds, and
that the hio;hest claims of knowledoje and
the best acquisitions of mind do not exempt
a female from necessary attention to per-
sonal neatness, to trifling decorums, and
especially to obeying the will of her supe-
riors, whether it demands great sacrifices
or petty observances.
Betsy was so mild and quiet that she
96 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
never disturbed any one ; and if they dis-
turbed not her, she seldom complained, or
at least never did it in a loud and angry
tone; but, on the other hand, you might
ask her to do a thing twenty times before
she complied with your request, and when
she did, it was with the air of a person
who was forced to do that which she dis-
liked. All motion was hateful to her, and
must be forced upon her ; but so gently,
yet firmly, did Alicia induce her to obedi-
ence — so constantly did she reward her
willing compliance, by rendering her walks
the source of mental recreation, that by
degrees she became habituated to motion,
and at length eager to engage in those
rambles which never failed to secure for
her a rich reward in the knowledo^e con-
veyed and the pleasure excited.
But although the improvement of the
young ladies was very encouraging to
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 97
Alicia, yet Frederic was in fact the pupil
most grateful to her feelings, for he came
to her as a blank paper in point of know-
ledge, on which she could inscribe what
characters she chose. His eao;er desire to
learn, the happiness and importance he
displayed when he had made an acquisi-
tion, and the gratitude he evidently felt to-
wards her for having opened such a source
of pleasure to him, were really delightful ;
and her cares to implant in his young heart
the best motives of action and principles of
self control, were a diversity of occupation
to her own mind peculiarly grateful and
invigorating; so that it might be said that
the happiness and the intellect of both
grew and flourished together.
Lady Westhampton seldom entered the
room set apart for study, which was a
happy circumstance, as the pleasantry of
her conversation, or the quickness of her
K
98 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
temper, seldom failed to derange the sober
system of her young but vigilant precep-
tress : she was however generally received
with pleasure by the children, not only
from their love to her, but because she fre-
quently came to announce some scheme of
innocent pleasure, which was to be the re-
ward of exertion, and required the concur-
rence of their governess.
One morning when she entered, finding
Laura at her French lesson, she did not
speak, but walked up to the window. —
" How comes this beautiful carnation to
be broken ?" said she, hastily breaking si-
lence.
" I have no idea," replied Alicia ; " I
am certain that it was perfect at break-
fast-time, for I gave it water, and pointed
out the varieties of its colouring to Eliza."
All were silent, and Lady Westhampton
darted a keen and penetrating eye upon her
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 99
youngest daughter, who blushed exceeding-
ly, and even was observed to tremble. —
"Did you break it, Betsey? Speak up,
child."
A faint "No" issued from the little
girl's lips, on which, in a more angry tone,
the lady said — "Then who did? I see
you know."
Frederic rose from his seat, and walking
up to his mamma, he looked earnestly in
her face, and said — " It was me who broke
it, mamma."
"You, sir! — you broke it! — Take that
for your pains."
A most tremendous box on the ear ac-
companied the words, and the poor child
ran crying back to his seat, at the same
time darting a reproachful look towards
his governess, which she fully understood.
She had seen the inward struggle of his
heart, between fear of his mother's anger
100 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
and a sense of honour in himself, and the
justice to which his sister had a right, and
that as he advanced towards his mamma,
his colour fled and his lip quivered ; she
was therefore sincerely sorry to see him
suffer in consequence of an eflbrt of virtue,
which had already cost him so much — she
felt assured that this was one of the most
important moments of his early life, and in
her extreme anxiety for his welfare, her
cheek flushed, and her eyes filled with tears.
Lady Westhampton, already angry, be-
held her emotion with displeasure, and ob-
served, with a sneer, that it was a curious
circumstance the punishment she had given
her child for spoiling Miss Launceston's
flower should excite her vexation ; adding,
' JS^ot that I should have given him so se-
vere a blow, if he had not so impertinently
said — ^ I did it^^
"I did not mean to do wrong," said
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 101
Frederic, sobbing; " what you call imperti-
nence, governess calls sincerity ; and if I
had held my tongue, I know it would have
been the same as telling a lie, which is
wicked and shameful."
" Yes," said Eliza, as the silent tears
coursed down her face in sympathy, "It
would have been equivocating, for mamma
would have thought I broke the flower,
whereas I only saw you do it by chance,
and of course I did not want to tell of you,
especially as it was an accident entirely."
" Come to me, Frederic," said Alicia, in a
mild tone ; and the boy instantly obey ed,and
listened attentively as she said — " You had
no right to touch the carnation, for I had
forbidden you all from meddlin ; with it;
therefore you are very properly punished
by your mamma for this fault, for which I
hope you are sorry, and that you will hum-
bly entreat your mamma to forgive you for
having- committed it."
K 2
102 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
Frederic did not speak, feeling that his
punishment went beyond the fault which
he had endeavoured to expiate; he consi-
dered himself the injured party, and his
little heart swelled with indignation, which
subsided by degrees, when Alicia added —
"But although very blameable in your con-
duct, I consider you an honest and noble
boy in taking the error and its consequences
upon yourself, and scorning to see your sis-
ter suffer in the opinion of your mamma. I
consider you as having acted like a child in
your fault, but like a man in your confession
of it ; for which reason, so far as it con-
cerns me, I freely forgive you, and trust
that you will not be so foolish again."
The boy's countenance brightening, his
pain forgotten, and his affections recalled
to their usual action, he now hastily ran to
his mother, crying — " Pray, dear mamma,
do forgive me, and I will never meddle
with the flowers again."
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 103
" I do forgive you, Frederic — yon are a
very hoDCst little fellow; but I," she added,
in a low and almost inaudible voice, " can-
not so easily forgive every body else;" and
Avith these words left the room immediately.
Alicia felt very uneasy, for she thought
the words implied the dissatisfaction of
Lady Westhampton towards herself; and
the sincere reo-ard she felt towards her for
the innumerable favours and kindnesses she
daily experienced from her hands, rendered
the thouglits of her serious displeasure in-
supportable to her affectionate and grateful
dependant. Yet she was well aware that
her dutv had demanded the conduct she
had pursued; that it was of the utmost
importance to the dear child that his views
on such a momentous point should be pro-
perly directed; and also that, however
vexed with her Lady Westhampton might
be at this unhappy moment, both herself
and Sir John were persons of scrupulous
104 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
veracity, and abhorred all meanness. Sh i
was much relieved when a servant appeared
to say that her lady requested that the
children might be sent altogether with her
into the garden; but her heart rose to her
lips when she added, "for I believe both
my lady and Sir John are coming to see
you, ma'am."
The children departed, and the further
they removed, the more sunk the spirits of
Alicia, although she endeavoured to sustain
herself by the recollection that she had
done right ; but she was well aware that the
world would not think so, and that her
future prospects would be involved in any
cloud under which she should leave a family
of such high respectability: the situation
of her aunt, the disappointment she would
experience, sunk heavy on her heart, and
completely unnerved her. At length Sir
John and his lady approached, the door
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 105
opened, and she felt as if her very life
huno; on the first words which should be
uttered.
"I have brought you a naughty girl,"
said Sir John, "who declares she can never
forgive herself, Miss Launceston, for some
sin against you and Frederic which she
has committed this morning, yet fancies
that you will accord her mercy."
"It is all very true, and I am heartily
ashamed of myself; but I would not say
this before the children, lest you should
not tliink it right; for, in every thing in
which they are concerned, I will hence-
forth be not partly, but wholly governed
by you," said his lady.
Under this sudden relief to her feelings,
Alicia was led to speak more fully, and
perhaps more eloquently, on the duties
of her situation, than she had ever done
before; and the result of the interview
106 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
was increased confidence and goodwill on
both sides.
" It just occurs to me," said Lady West-
hainpton, " that you have been here a long
time. Miss Launceston, and yet I have,
with most blameable carelessness, never
once spoken to you on money matters.
May I ask what the Countess of Lammer-
muir gave you?"
" She agreed to give me fifty pounds
a-year before I came from France, madam,
and to pay my expences to London."
"IN^ow let me become accuser in my
turn, for really that answer is not given
with your usual ingenuousness. I wanted
to know what she actually gave you."
" She gave me — that is — I could get no
settlement with her ladyship— in fact, I
only received twenty pounds."
" And you hesitate at giving this proof
of her meanness to your only friends ! —
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 107
Believe me, I should not have asked, but
under the persuasion that Lady Lammer-
muir, conscious of your merit, had rewarded
it by outgoing her agreement ; not that
her conduct ought to govern mine, because
it is my duty to consider my family. I
shall, therefore, offer you eighty pounds
a year; and I hope, after this time, to pay
you regularly; but at present you must
look to Sir John, for I am very poor."
Sir John in a few moments laid forty
pounds upon Alicia's work-table, and they
both left the room, the lady jestingly telling
the Baronet that she was now determined
to accompany him to London when he next
visited it on parliamentary duty, as she had
formed as strong a resolution to get money
in the metropolis, as she had formerly
shewn an avidity for spending it.
CHAP. IX.
By degrees the wild habits and boyish pro-
pensities of Laura were exchanged for the
elegant accomplishments becoming her sex
and her rank, whilst the genuine benevo-
lence and active humanity of her heart were
still retained, and all her native artlessness
and simplicity appeared combined with en-
gaging modesty and propriety of deport-
ment. She now made her sister the com-
panion of her rambles as well as her studies,
and since both were taken under the eye
of their kind and observant governess, they
alike tended to improve the appearance and
correct the habits of each. Eliza learned
to exchange the sickly compassion of in-
dulged sensibility for the actual offices of
humanity, and was taught to see how much
more valuable that person must be, who can
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 109
sacrifice personal gratification in order to
relieve a fellow creature, than one who
sheds tears over a pathetic story, without
exertins: herself to assist the real sufferer.
She now conquered her indolence, for the
sweet gratification of visiting the neigh-
bouring poor, and contributing her means
of assisting them ; her pale cheeks now glow-
ed with health and cheerfulness, and her
delicate frame became vig-orous and ele-
gant, and she moved and danced with grace
and agility. When the eldest son paid his
first visit at home, after a year's absence,
he was astonished and delighted with the
improvement made in both his sisters, and
he declared Frederic to be a prodigy in
learning, and yet a very agreeable boy, and
therefore verv different to all the little
prodigies he had ever met with before.
When this vounjx 2:entleman returned to
Eton, Sir John and his lady accompanied
L
110 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
him, liappy in committing their young
family to one whose character they highly
estimated, and whose conduct they had
diligently investigated, before they thus left
her the uncontrolled mistress of their man-
sion. They returned in the beginning of
summer, dcli«;hted to find themselves most
fondly welcomed by all their children, and
without any drawback on their happiness;
for Lady Westhampton's conduct had been
most exemplary in every respect, and whilst
she had been an object of the most flatter-
ing attention to the fashionable world, she
had never allowed herself to be seduced, by
its blandishments, into expenses beyond
her means, or dissipation unbecoming her
character. The consciousness of having
acted so as to merit the love of her chil-
dren made their caresses delightful to her,
and united with the warm approbation of
her husband to shed the sweetest amenity
over her manners, and to spread through
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. Ill
all lier habitation the cheerfulness and
serenity which were predominant in her
own feelings.
But when the family in general had re-
tired for the night, with a sensation of more
exulting pleasure she took the hand of
Alicia, and placed in it a bank-bill of one
hundred ponnds, saying — " There, my
sweet young friend, there is Lady Lam-
mermuir's debt to you, sent with a thousand
kind wishes to her amiable -prcUyie. I
hope you will henceforward acknowledge
the extent of my diplomatic powers."
Alicia could scarcely believe herself the
possessor of so large a sum as this appeared
to her, and those who consider either the
deep obligation she lay under to her aunt,
or the sense of pleasure it must ever be to
help a worthy relation in the decline of
years, who is labouring under a scanty
112 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
provision in those days which most solicit
indulgence, will not be surpised that, after
surveying her prize for a moment, and
gratefully gazing on the person who gave
it her, her eyes filled with tears, and she
be2:o;ed leave to withdraw.
" Oh go, my dear, by all means, and
consider how smart to make yourself with
your money, for we shall have a great deal
of company by-and-bye."
But Alicia's consideration was only how
best to express to her dear aunt the plea-
sure she had in sending her the hardly-
earned sum, which good Mrs. Catherine?
as well as herself, had long ago given up
as lost, and which it is certain would only
have been regained by the skilful ma-
noeuvring, as well as active benevolence,
of Lady Westhampton, who not only
sought to assist in doing justice to one she
loved, but in compelling one she despised
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 113
to restitution, which was in itself a punish-
ment.
Before breakfast the next clay, Alicia
had sought Sir John for the purpose of
procuring a frank, and the anxiety she
sliewed convinced his ladv that the bill she
had given her the preceding evening was
enclosed. Although Lady Westhampton
was aware that Alicia had no other friend,
and wTis under o-reat oblio:ations to her
aunt, yet she did not know their extent,
and she inquired, with an air of dissatis-
faction, if she had sent the whole of the
bill; observing' that Sir John would have
changed it for her, or could do so j^et.
" Ah, my lady ! if you knew how much
I owe this dear Mrs. Launceston, you
would not think of such an emendation."
" Well, tell me all about her, then, my
dear; I know you are an excellent racon-
tev.se ^ as the French say."
L 2
114 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
Although this kind of praise somewhat
abashed Alicia, yet she immediately be-
gan to speak of her own infantine losses
and misfortunes, displayed the goodness of
her aunt in seeking her when all the world
had deserted her; and proceeded to depict,
with tlie simple eloquence which belongs
to true feeling, the privations and labours
her good aunt had endured for her sake so
many years. It might be truly said of her
warm-hearted auditors —
" That often she beguil'd them of their tears,
When she did speak of some distressful stroke
Which her yonth suffer' d;"
and when she paused, the warm-hearted,
enthusiastic Lady Westhampton insisted
upon it that such was her admiration of
Mrs. Catherine, that she could never rest
till she had personally assured her of her
regard; and she determined to write im-
mediately, and press her to visit her niece,
at a house where they would be proud to
receive her.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 115
Alicia well knew that this scheme would
not tend to the old lady's happiness, and
she therefore gently, and at length efFec-
tuallvj opposed it ; and the affair terminated
much more happily, from her gaining per-
mission to be the bearer of her own letter.
She found lier good aunt most happy to see
her, but grievously altered for the worse, as
she had lately laboured under a severe ill-
ness, which, from the kindest motives, she
had forborne to mention, knowing that tlie
absence of Lady Westhampton rendered
it impossible for Alicia to visit her in com-
fort. Under these circumstances, the pre-
sence and the present of yVlicia were doubly
welcome, since even her previous remit-
tances were more than called for by the
affliction she had encountered.
Durino- the followiuG; autunm, the season
for shootino; beiii"' unusuallv fine, the hos-
pitable mansion of Sir John was full of
116 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
company — a circumstance which did not
add to the pleasure of Alicia or her young
pupils, since it only tended to confine them
more closely to their own apartments, and
deprive them of the dear society of the
heads of the family. Though ever a wel-
come guest in the drawing-room, Alicia
was by no means a frequent one at these
times; nor did Lady Westhampton press
her to come; she prudently thought that
a young woman of superior attainments
and personal attractions would be likely to
become an object of attention to some man
of fortune, who, after paying her great
attention, and thereby securing her affec-
tions, would probably leave her for a more
suitable and wealthy choice, to pine in re-
gret for the remainder of her life; on
even if he married her, repent himself
when it was too late, and subject her to
the bitter mortification of seeing a dissa-
tisfied husband and haughty relations look
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 117
clown iiDon her, tbroii2:h the rest of an
existence, perhaps abridged by uneasiness
and the endurance of unmerited reproach.
Yet, notwithstanding the kind precau-
tions taken by Lady Westhampton, Ahcia
became an object of attraction to several
who were led to watch for an opportunity
of seeing a person of whom the children
were continually talking; and a gentleman
of large fortune was so much pleased with
her, that he entertained serious thoughts of
paying her his addresses, if he found that
her family was respectable; and after beg-
ging a private interview with Lady West-
hampton, he made known to her his wishes,
and begged her to satisfy his curiosity on a
point which was important to his happiness.
Lady Westhampton gave liim an ac-
count, of course, which she thought likely
to add to the affection he felt for Alicia,
118 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
but concealed not the opinion she enter-
tainedj that this young person would never
forsake her aunt, even for the highest
offer; and therefore, whoever married her
must do it in the expectation of taking
charge of two persons instead of one.
" That is indeed a serious consideration,"
said the gentleman.
" I do not mean to say lie must take the
aunt into his house, for I have reason to
believe that she would prefer the quiet,
humble independence of her distant home,
but of course he must enable his wife to
continue to her that assistance which, even
in her dependent state, she now supplies,
otherwise he abridges the virtues and the
happiness she now enjoys," observed the
lady.
The young gentleman thought deeply for
a few moments, and then said, if he could
converse with Miss Launceston she would
probably give up this silly point. On be-
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 119
iiig assured that it was impossible, he rang
for his horses and departed, leaving lady
Westhampton well satisfied with having
saved Alicia from an interview which,
although insufficient to shake her resolu-
tion, might have been injurious to her
happiness.
IS'othing occurred particular until the re-
turn of Christmas, which brought the young
heir again to the paternal mansion; in con-
secjuence of which various invitations arose
among the neighbouring gentry, and their
parties were augmented also by the arrival
of a young gentleman to whom Sir John
was much attached, and had not seen for
several years, the two last of whicli had
been spent at the Madeiras, with a relation
who was sick.
One evening when they happened to be
alone, and could therefore converse more
120 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
freely, tliis friend (Mr. Parry) said, that, in
passing through London, he had spent an
evening with their mutual acquaintance,
Mr. (the gentleman above-named,)
who appeared rather out of spirits; and
when he was rallied upon it, said that he
owed his dejection to Lady Westhampton.
"Why 'tis true I did tell him a long
story which aifected him a little; but a
young, handsome, independent man, with
a fortune of two thousand a-year, might
have got over it."
" I wish you would tell it to me," said
Mr. Parry.
Lady Westhampton readily complied, and
when she concluded, the gentleman eagerly
asked if the old lady were still alive ?
Oh yes, and likely to live many years."
How sincerely do I wish she would
permit me to double her little income I —
my fortune is much more than equal to my
a
li
. ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 121
wants now ; and If T should many, which
is very probable, yet such a trifle could
never be felt in my family ; and if i t were, so
much the better - it would serve to remind
us of that virtue we ought to imitate."
" I will inquire how far such an offer
would be acceptable to the feelings of a
Scottish gentlewoman," said Lady West-
hampton; "it is a delicate matter, and
must be delicately arranged; but, be as-
sured, it is to me a delightful commission.
In the meantime, let us all be silent upon
it for one week at least, and consent to
remain with us a fortnight longer,"
" I believe I have already done that,"
said Mr. Parry, "because, having some
business in London, I have promised Sir
John to take charge of your son to Eton."
Nothing farther passed at this time, but
on the following evening, as Lady AVest-
hampton gave a little ball to the young
M
122 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
people in the neighbourhood, Mr. Parry
was introduced to Alicia, who, of course,
accompanied her young ladies. Circum-
stances threw them much into conversation
with each other, and they were mutually
pleased with the powers which each dis-
played; but it was not till several succeed-
ing interviews had confirmed the prepo-
session, and until Alicia had heard from
Sir John many traits of the excellence of
Mr. Parry's character, that his lady first
mentioned his proposition respecting her
aunt.
Pleased, thankful, and much afiected,
vet Alicia beo;o:ed in the first instance to
decline it ; but the recollection that either
sickness or death, on her part, might de-
prive her excellent aunt of an advantage
she had no right to refuse, caused her to
hesitate ; but she could not delay returning
her thanks to Mr< Parrv for his intentions.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 123
In this interview Mr. Parry made her an
offer of his hand ; and, not to detain you
on a subject you must have foreseen, I
shall only add, that about six months
afterwards thev were married, and removed
to his house in Cheshire, where they now
reside.
Before this event took place, INIr. Parry
had made the settlement in question, Alicia
beino; anxious that the j]i;ift should be one
emanating evidently from the kindness and
generosity of her husband, as a tribute due
to an unknown but meritorious person, and
not as proceeding even from his affection
to herself. But after they were married,
the excellent man to whom she was united,
made it his first care to alter and improve
the prettiest cottage on his estate, so as to
resemble the one where she had formerly
dwelt with her aunt at Stirling ; and when
124 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
he had finished it with conveniences of
every description, and furnished it in the
most comfortable manner, he went himself
to CarHsle, and brought back Mrs. Cathe-
rine, by easy stages, in his own carriage,
to be settled near her beloved niece for
the remainder of her life.
Before it was in his power to carry this
benevolent plan fully into execution, a cir-
cumstance of much importance had arisen
to his bride. It appears that, in the extent
of her goodwill, and the anxiety she dis-
played for giving importance to the much-
loved governess of her children. Lady
Westhampton had caused the marriage of
Mr. Parry and Miss Alicia Launceston to
cut what might be called a good figure as
a newspaper paragraph, and an old gentle-
man, who resided in South Wales, read it
by chance, transferred into the Swansea
ALICIA AND HEK AUNT. 125
Clironicle, and thus reasoned upon it : —
" Alicia — Alicia Launceston ! — why the
Christian name was my sister-in-law's, and
her daughter (my niece) married a Dr.
Launceston, and left a child called Alicia :
this must be the very girl. Um ! um ! —
handsome! accomplished! — that may be ;
but she must be poor. I will write to
George about it — no, I won't, for that
w^ould look as if I wished to make up the
quarrel, and that I never intend to do,
either with him or his impertinent sons —
no, no, 1 will let them see that I can find
heirs without them. Why this girl, if it
be the poor brat a Scotchwoman once wrote
about, is sprung from a brother above two
years older than George."
Anxious to discover the truth, this old
gentleman caused his steward to write to
Sir John Westhampton on the subject;
M 2
126 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
and after a somewhat tedious investigation
of every circumstance, being fully, and, as it
appeared, most happily satisfied that Alicia
was indeed his grandniece, he wrote a kind
letter, acknowledging her as his near rela-
tion, and enclosing her a handsome sum of
money, as a proof of goodwill, and an ear-
nest of future favours. Of course, Alicia
found this acknowledo-ment of her relation-
ship, and the power of presenting some-
thino* to that dear husband who had receiv-
ed her a portionless orphan, without friends
or expectations, a very pleasant circum-
stance; and accompanied by Mr. Parry,
made a journey into Wales to visit him,
where she was received with the utmost
honour and courtesy, and valued the more
because she had married a gentleman whose
name at least was a Welch one.
When Mrs. Parry became the mother of
ALICIA AND ITER AUNT. 127
a son, the old gentleman came himself to
visit her, and formally declared her his heir-
ess—stood sponsor for her son, to whom
he gave his name, and to whom he present-
ed a thousand pounds, in consequence of
learning that his christening-mantle was
trimmed with lace wrouo-ht bv the hands
of Mrs. Catherine Launceston, who was
also sponsor on tliis occasion; observing
at the time, that the trembling hands and
dim eyes which had engaged in such a
work of affection, aro-ued that an^e had not
impaired the love, nor quenched the energy
of her to whom the happy circle were in-
debted for the preservation of one so dear
and valuable a.< the mother of the babe.
Twice after this time he came to visit his
^iece, and during the last period slie was
enabled to subdue so far the implacability
of his temper towards his brother's family
128 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
(Mr. George Powls being himself dead),
that he left them all le2:acies indicative of
foro;iveness. He did not long; survive this
journey, dying in his eighty-fifth year, and
leaving to Alicia the property he had pro-
mised, together with a considerable estate,
to which she w^as the legal heir, although
her rights had never been ascertained until
the period of his decease.
CHAP. X.
Two or tliree hours after Mrs. Parry had
given the manuscript we have just finished
to her son, she was under the necessity of
entering the apartment where he was re-
tired with his young friend. She found the
two boys sitting by each other in perfect
silence, and the little work, which they had
finished but a few minutes before, lying on
the table on which thev were leaning.
JNIrs. Parry approached them, and said to
her son — " Well, Charles, are we to keep
your birthday In the cottage, or at our own
house?"
''Oh, mannna, how can vou ask me?"
said the boy, bursting Into tears, " unless
you think — and I am sadly afraid you do
think, that I am not worthy of visiting my
dear, dear aunt Launccston."
130 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
" I thought — at least I hoped that you
would perceive, Charles, that there was in-
deed a great deal of difference between the
debt of gratitude I owed to her you deem-
ed my poor relation, and him whom you
exulted in as my rich one ; for surely there
was little comparison in the goodness they
displayed. Mrs. Launceston was distantly
related to me, personally unknown even to
my parents, and neither called upon by law
or honour to provide for me ; yet, like her
Divine Master, she literally came to seek
and to save me when I was lost, to rescue
me from the lowest state of poverty and
wretchedness to which an unhappy orphan
could be doomed, and give me to share,
not her wealth, for she had barely compe-
tence, but her home, the comforts of which
must inevitably be diminished by my pre-
sence. From motives of the purest pity,
the most exalted benevolence, and Christian
charity, she compelled herself to forego all
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 131
her own habits, at a period of hfe when
they were fully formed, and to give up the
quiet and orderly path of life she had tra-
velled above forty years, to become the
nurse of a sickly and often wayward child,
abandoned to vuli2:ar habits, and habituated
to the filthy customs of squalid poverty."
" Oh, mamma, you could never be such
a child as this."
"Indeed I must have been such,Charles,
for nothlns; else could arise from a situation
so horrible as mine ; yet from this was I
saved by your aunt, and nurtured with a
tenderness so judicious, a love so full of
wisdom, that I soon gave indication of ta-
lents which promised to reward a culture
she had it not in her power to bestow. In
order to procure me higlier aid, she sacri-
ficed her all — slie abandoned home, friends,
and Independence, and at a period of life
when numbers think justly that they are
entitled to rest from their labours, she, for
132 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
the first time In her existence, entered upon
a Hfe of dally toil, for a scanty and dubious
reward, to procure the bare means of ex-
istence. This, mark me, Charles, was not
the effervescence of an enthusiastic mind,
which, under strong excitement, feels ca-
pable of a noble resolution, a splendid act
of generosity — no, it was the steady pur-
pose, the undevlatlug, unostentatious good-
ness of those years of her life in which the
active often become supine, the sanguine
hopeless, the generous selfish, and even the
best conclude themselves justified in as-
sumino; those comforts which declinins: life
evidently demands. And when that period
arrived in which she had a right to expect
release from her cares, and it arrived not,
was there not still the same kindness con-
tinued, the same confidence exerted, the
same generous belief that she was duly
estimated, fondly beloved by the child who
had been so long separated from her?
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 133
Yes, I can truly say that this portion of
my excellent aunt's conduct, which was
perhaps, in many respects, the most diffi-
cult to persevere in, was equally admirable
with the rest; and during the short time
I spent with her at Carlisle, when I re-
turned to her almost pennyless, mortified
at the past and fearful of the future, shocked
to contemplate the change wdiicli time had
made in her person, and which my wants
had made in her humble comforts, not a
word, or sigh, or look of hers, added to my
chagrin; on the contrary, she gave me
encouragement alike by her manners and
her counsels, and would have given me
again a share of that bread which, as a
hungry child, I had innocently robbed her
of in my infancy.''
" Oh, mamma, I see it all; I am sure I
shall ever consider her as an angel," ex-
claimed Charles.
N
134 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
" You will at least see, my dear, how
much hio'her her conduct rises than that of
our uncle, so far as I am concerned: it is
true, he owned me, loved me, and enriched
me, but it was not till I was honourably
and highly married, and when, from having
quarrelled with the family of his only sur-
viving brother, he was in a manner thrown
on the world for connections. I am sensible
of p'reat oblis-ation to him, and durino; the
period of our intercourse I became much
attached to him ; nor would I wish to
reflect on his memory ; but Avhen I wish to
impress an important lesson on the mind of
my son, I must not sacrifice an awful truth,
even to an affectionate and charitable im-
pulse: he who left me to perish unaided,
in the possession of w^ealth himself, must
not be placed on a level with her who
rescued me from misery in despite of her
own poverty: like the widow's mite in the
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 135
Gospel, her services must be registered in
my heart, and the hearts of my children, as
an offering beyond all price."
Although Mrs. Parry ceased to speak,
her young auditors Avere so deeply im-
pressed by her words, which were indeed
aided by her tears, and the animated tone in
which she spoke, that for some minutes they
still seemed to listen — with this difference,
that the eyes of Charles, though somewhat
downcast, as if he were listenino; rather to a
lecture on his own conduct than an eulogy
upon that of his friend, were still turned
towards his mother, whereas those of his
companion were bent only upon the floor,
and all his usual vivacity and energy ap-
peared to have forsaken him — a circum-
stance which Mrs. Parry could not help
noticing to herself with much surprise, for
he was a youth of much feeling, and ever
pron3 to enter, with glowing sympathy.
136 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
into every circumstance of character and
conduct which indicated the lofty qualities
and higher exertions of virtue.
"Well," said Airs. Parry, after a long
pause, "I must not stay here any longer;
we are all busy in the house preparing for
to-morrow; Alicia and Jemima are fillins;
the large vases in the hall with flowers, and
as all the servants are eno;ao;ed, and neither
of you have been out, I think you had
better carry them to the cottage."
" Oh yes, mamma, I should like to go
of ail things — I quite long to see Aunt
Launceston^ and to beg of her to "
" But perhaps Edward may 7iot. — If you
have no inclination. Master Eyre, for the
walk, pray do not go; I merely proposed
it, because the vases are careful carriage,
and the girls would be glad to send them
by those vflio will feel as they do on the
occasion."
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 137
" I wish I could feel as they do," said
Edward, with a deep sigh; "but you know
ma'am, I caicnot, for they are happy, and
deserve to be so; and I am not happy.
But pray, dear Mrs. Parry, don't call me
Master Eyre."
"I don't understand you, my dear
Edward; there was something in your
silence which did not indicate your usual
friendliness of feeling, which perhaps gave
me a little pain, at a time when I had
been opening both my fixmily circum-
stances and family affections to you, in a
manner which proved that I regarded you
in the same light as my own son. I wish
you would explain this."
" Why, ma'am, you can't surely suppose
that I can forgive myself at such a moment
as this, for having dared to say a single
word a2:ainst Mrs. Launceston, whom I
consider the best of women — not indeed
that I spoke against her, for I could not,
N 2
13S ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
but I said words I have ever since wished
to recall ; in short, you know all I said —
Charles would not make it worse."
" Charles never said a word to me on
the matter ; I saw, it is true, that some-
thing was on his mind, but it seemed to go
off the day following, and I thought no
more about it; but from some conversation
which passed between us, I was led to give
him this little history, in order to settle
his fluctuating opinions as to whether the
virtue or the riches of his relatives were
the more worthy of his affections, and my
sincere regard for you prompted me to
offer the same lesson to your contempla-
tion, well knowing that your mother would
thank me for endeavouring to do you such
a service."
"Oh," cried Edward, vehemently, "how
good you are to me, just at the time when
I am sure I deserve nothins; but hatred ! —
and Charles too, so kind as not to accuse
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 139
me, Avlien I had vexed liim so much by
speaking so thoughtlessly and unfeelingly
of his great-aunt ! My only consolation
is, that he repelled my silly insinuations
as he ouo'ht, and thou2:ht no more about
'em."
" You are mistaken, Edward ; I thought
a great deal, for I said to myself — ' He is
older than me, and knows better;' and I
determined that I would not go so often to
the cottage, and I behaved sullenly and
neo'lifi'ently to aunt Launceston for two
davs — I know I did in mv heart, and tliat
makes me impatient to see her, and to
convince her that I am worthy to be once
more her own 'dear bairnie.'"
"You «ye worthy," cried Edward, "but
I am not; and I feel that I cannot — I
ought not to accompany you. Yet if
sorrow for my folly would entitle me to
pardon, I am certain I ought to have it,
for I ha.e never been
140 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
reproach since the day when it happened;
for her kindness at that time cut me to the
heart within ten minutes after I had
spoken."
" Then you ought to have told me," said
Charles, "and I should have been pre-
vented from acting, as I am sure I did,
with a sort of surly sauciness, which,
though it dared not speak, was yet very
provoking; and besides, I have felt all
along a great weight on my heart, as if I
had done something very wicked — I am
sure I have lost almost a whole week's
pleasure."
"So I should," replied Edward, "but
you were absent, and I did not see you for
two days, and I then hoped you had forgot
all I said; and I tried to forget it myself,
and when it came into my mind, I said —
* Pshaw! pshaw!' and strove to drive it
away ; then I tried to comfort myself by
reasoning, and said to myself — 'After all.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 141
I have only spoken the truth ; I did not
say anything against Mrs. Launceston to
Charles; I only said she spoke Scotch and
looked queer, and that I wondered how he
could love her;' but still it was the upper-
most; and when Charles summoned me to
read the manuscript, I felt sure that he had
told you all, dear ^Irs. Parry, and that
you had taken this kind method of re-
proving me for my error."
"Well, my dear young friend, pray
continue to consider so; for if you are not
only reproved but amended, which I am
fully persuaded you will be from this inci-
dent, you will have attained a benefit of
incalculable importance. Our Saviour has
expressly said, that for every idle word we
must give an account; and those may in-
deed be called idle icords, which, without
haviniz; the determined wickedness of ca-
lumny, or the intention of virtuous censure
on real crime, yet throw firebrands as it
142 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
were in sport, and leave an impression to
the prejudice of a worthy person, for causes
which we feel too trifling for censure, and
should be ashamed to repeat — causes which
cease to be such if they were explained, be-
cause that which affects our narrow views
may not operate on a person whose range
in society is more wide, whose views are
more liberal, or whose mind has been dif-
ferently directed ; as, for instance, the
very language you dislike may sound, to
an ear accustomed to it, most deliirhtful,
as brino'ino' back the most aofreeable asso-
ciations, the dearest ties of his existence."
"I am excessively fond of Burn's
poems myself," said Edward — "in fact, I
delight in the poetical turns and the rich
phraseology of the language."
" So I have frequently heard you say,
Edward, and I believe you; which only
proves the more decidedly that yours were
merely idle words, and such as many
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 143
much older than yourself use daily ; yet
they might have rendered a happy family
wretched — implanted the seeds of parental
disobedience, which would have sprung
up into every hateful propensity, and even
actual profligacy, in a boy of the best
possible disposition, and could not, by
any possible construction, do good to any
human being. Can you not perceive this
consequence too probable?"
" I see it all clearlv," cried Edward.
" Charles would have incurred the displea-
sure of his parents; he would have thought
it unjust — his heart would have been har-
dened ao;ainst them; he would have o;one
on, from one thing to another, till he be-
came a wretch, and "
" Then I should have been a fool," said
Charles, abruptly.
'^ You would have been misled by one,"
replied Edward, " and the more easily,
because you knew he loved you. But I
144 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
hope you will never allow liim to Injure
you again
?5
The shame, the ingenuous self-reproach,
and the tone of deep dejection in which
these words were spoken, moved Charles
exceedingly, and he instantly clasped Ed-
ward fast to his bosom; and the boys,
humble and yet elevated by their peni-
tence, wept together, whilst Mrs. Parry,
satisfied with the explanation she had re-
ceived, silently retired.
CHAP. XL
When Mrs. Pany returned to lier family,
she found that her daughters had not meant
to send their vases of flowers to the cottao;e
till the following morning, as they were in
fact intended, in the first place, as birth-
day offerings to their dear brother.
On the following morning, the boys,
having been fully reconciled to their much-
loved mother and friend, arose with light
hearts and the renovated spirits peculiar
to the morning of life, to engage in the
tasks and pleasures of the day.
It was settled that all the children in the
immediate vicinity should receive each a
sweet cake and a cup of syllabub, and form
a little morris-dance on the grass-plot of
o
146 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
Mrs. Launceston, wlio would see tlieir
sports with as much pleasure as the young
ones; and the care of preparing tlie place,
and of arranging the dress of the principal
performers, was delegated to the boys, who
alike felt not only a laudable anxiety to do
something which might place them near
the person of Mrs. Launceston, but even
to suifer or labour for her, by way of ex-
piating their unknown sins towards her;
for the feelings of the young are ever ar-
dent and acute. Silently but completely
entering into their ideas, Mrs. Parry em-
ployed them in bearing between them an
immense basket of china, which required
the utmost care in conveyance, observing
that there was no occasion for it, but if
they liked to take the trouble of carrying
it, the old lady would, of course, be'pleased,
as it would set off lier table and honour
her guests.
The affair was one of much anxiety and
ALICIA AND HEK AUNT. 147
great labour, and the heat of their faces
subdued the bkishes Avhich memory had
awakened, as the heavy basket was set
down in Mrs. Launceston's parlour.
The old lady was sitting in her arm-
chair, putting a finishing stitcii to a High-
land pouch which she had made as a curious
kind of reservoir for her godson's [)encils,
fishing-tackle, &c., for a birthday present,
and which she h;;d ornamented with silver
lace, in a ricli and beautii'ul manner.
I The moment that Charles's eye glanced
upon her and her emph)yment, his heart
was penetrated anew \\ ith tlio most lively
gratitude and affection ; the preserver of
his mother was before hiui — the beloved
relative he had slighted, in despite of age
and infirmity, was toiling to please him.
Charles felt as if his very heart rose to his
mouth, and, unable to speak, he ran for-
148 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
ward, and, dropping on his knees, laid his
face upon her lap.
" May the guid God bless thee, my son !"
said the old lady, solemnly, laying her
clasped hands upon his head; "may he
give thee many happy returns of this
day, and in a guid auld age remove thee
gently to himself!"
Edward rushed forward — " Dear ma-
dam, bless me — pray bless me also."
" May the Most Merciful bless thee !
may he make thee a crown of rejoicing to
the parents that love thee!"
The tone of tender solemnity in which
these words were uttered, the simplicity
and piety of the speaker, combining with
the remembrance of recent feelings and
half-subdued agitation, rendered their im-
pression indelible, and gave to each of these
youthful bosoms a sense of holy calmness,
and a consciousness of having received a
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 149
kind of patriarchal benediction, which par-
doned the past and gave hope for the future.
As these more hio-h-wrouoht feelino;s sub-
sided, they became enabled to talk with
the old lady on the arrano-ements of the
day, and enter, with the hilarity natural
to their age, into its enjoyments.
At the appointed hour of dinner, which
was a very early one, the mother and
grandmother of Edward drove to the door,
just as Mrs. Parry and her little girls
(who had been there a few minutes) were
wishing for them. The boys, who had
been home to dress, were soon after an-
nounced ; and as Charles, now all life and
spirits, tied his smart Highland pouch,
and an ancient highland dirk presented
with it, round his waist, he afforded a
subject for admiration, laughter, and com-
ment, until the dinner was on the table.
Mrs. Launceston sat at the head of the
o 2
150 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
table, and Mrs. Parry close by her, that she
might save her from all trouble, and Charles,
at his godmother's request, sat opposite her.
"I will sit next to Charles," said Ed^
ward, jestingly, "and perform Mrs. Parry's
part in assisting him."
" I desire you will not ; there is abun-
dance of room at the table, and I intend
to enact papa in great style."
" There is a carriage at the door," ex-
claimed Mrs. Parry. " How very awkward
this is ! But perhaps it is 2^. friend.
" 'Tis our own carriage," cried Charles,
exultingly ; " 'tis my own dear, dear papa."
In a moment Mr. Parry was in the midst
of a circle to whose perfect happiness his
presence alone had been wanting, and was
locked in the arms of his beloved wife, and
entwined with the embraces of his lovely
girls and his enraptured boy.
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 1-51
" So you would not tell us you were
coming, lest you should disappoint us, my
dear?" said Mrs. Parry.
" That was my sole motive for silence,"
returned the husband; "but I had set
my heart on being with you on Charles's
birthday, and am glad I was driven so late,
as it has enabled me to accommodate a
stranofer for the two last stao-es, whom I
met with by chance, and who proved to
be my dearest friend."
"And is he sittino; in the carriao-e all
this time? — Fly, Charles, and bring the
gentleman in," said Mrs. Parry.
" Stop a moment, my dear ; your mo-
ther herself must go with you. I am sure,
my love, you will pardon me for exacting
from you, on tliis occasion, an act of un-
questioning obedience : go to our friend,
and converse with him a few minutes. —
And now, my dear ladies, I hope you will
each take a glass of wine with a starving
152 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
traveller, before my dear Alicia returns
with this stranger; for, to tell you the truth,
I fear his presence may somewhat affect
you, as, like one very dear to you, he is a
seaman, has had a bad wound, and is a
little pale, but otherwise in good health,
and flushed with honours, being promoted
to be an admiral on Tuesday."
"Oh! we shall rejoice to see him," cried
Mrs. Eyre — " we shall hail him as the
herald of our own dear wanderer."
"But I wish you, my dear madam, to
give that honourable office to me, who am
in truth the herald of Admiral Eyre."
A burst of astonishment, a cry of joy,
that reached even the carriage, sprung from
every tongue; and the welcome guest,
aware that the secret had transpired, in-
stantly alighted from the carriage, (into
which Mrs. Parry had entered; but, ere
he could reach the house, his wife, mother
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 153
and son, had surrounded him — gazed on
him in transport ; and that silence, in which
the excess of joy assumes the appearance
of sorrow, succeeded to the loud cry of
rapture which had so lately transpired.
Almost overcome by his feelings, the
admiral, with steps that trembled as they
had never done in the hour of the hottest
battle, approached the usual seat of Mrs.
Launceston, under the trellis before her
door. With one arm he supported his wife,
who, almost fainting, sunk upon his shoul-
der; with the other he drew his mother
tenderly towards his bosom, and Edward,
kneeling at his feet, with his arms fondly
clasped around him, seemed to claim his
share of love. At the sight of liis boy,
grown beyond his expectations, and bear-
ing in his handsome, intelligent counte-
nanc3, his own features mingled with those
of his ever fondly-loved wife, the heart of
154 ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
the father was touched beyond the powers
of resistance, and for a short time the
brave man wept like an infant.
As these overpowering but delightful
emotions subsided, the happy family be-
came enabled to receive the sincere con-
gratulations of their friends, among which
those of the oldest person were the more
immediately attended to; and at her earnest
entreaty, after a short time, all the party
were once more assembled round her hos-
pitable table, and the two travellers gladly
partook the refreshment which a long ride
had rendered particularly desirable.
When the cloth was removed and the
servants withdrawn, Mrs. Parry endea-
voured to promote conversation, which
languished on the side of her visitors, not
from the want of subjects, but the abun-
dance and interest of the many things to
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 155
hear and to relate, ^Yll*lc]l pressed on the
minds of each, and particularly seemed to
affect the spirits of the stranger, although
he stru^aled to overcome the emotion, and
was particularly attentive to old Mrs.
Launceston, who, pleased with his friendly
manners, and rejoicing in the happiness of
all around her, could not forbear to say —
"I am just rejoiced to my varry heart, to
find, sir, that goovernment has shewn a
proper sense of yere services. There was
a time when I thought them varry long
aboot it, I confess."
" Ay, madam, the first step is often the
most difficult; it ivas a long time before I
got upon the list of preferment, but, since
then, I have had nothing to complain of.
1 was then young, and my f. rtune, of
course, was either assisted or retarded by
the officers above me, which must ever be
the case; the most liberal and enlightened
government may overlook a faithful ser-
156 ALICIA AJ^D HER AUNT.
vant, if his own friends and companions
stand in his way."
" But, my dear son," observed Mrs.
Eyre, " surely they were all fond of you
from the time you were a midshipman ? "
" Not all, my dear mother ; for I have
since learned that lieutenant Badger pre-
judiced our worthy captain so far, that he
always preferred any person of the same
standing to me ; and this trifling circum-
stance, in all probability, threw me back
some years. But never mind — it is all
over now ; we must forget and forgive."
" God forbid that we should not, espe-
cially on such a happy day as this ! But
yet, I must own, I am desirous of know-
ing why the lieutenant was so angry with
you that he should thus injure you?
How did you offend him ? "
" Pardon me, dear mother ; you mistake
the case whoUv. I never gave him cause
for anger, nor did he seriously intend to
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 157
injure me ; but you may recollect that, in
the first enocao^ement I was in. a ball struck
my knee, which occasioned me to walk
lame for above two years, during which
time he (for fun, I suppose^) always spoke
of me by the name of * Hopping Neddy;'
then I was a Yorkshireman, you know,
and he therefore termed me * a Yorkshire
bite;' then my name, in its pronunciation,
afforded the ready means for a pun ; so
that, being either associated with ludicrous
ideas, as a person to be laughed at, or with
those of an infirmity, which might produce
the supposition that I was unequal to my
duty, or with the more disgusting thought
that I was inherently, as 'a Yorkshire
bite,' cunning and malevolent, the captain
always overlooked me, without any bad
intention on his part, and probably with
scarcely anything mariting that term on
the part of him who, in this foolish man-
ner, rendered him unjust to me."
p
ioS ALICIA AND HER AUNT.
During tills recital, Edward and Charles
exchanged many intelligent looks with each
other, and their cheeks were suffused with
burning blushes, which each of their fathers
naturally imputed to the unworthy treat-
ment which the admiral had received; but
Mrs. Parry well knew that they were ap-
plying the story of his wrongs in a manner
which touched not only their affections
towards him, but their consciences. With
this subject on their minds, the wife and
mother became fluent in conversation, and
the gentlemen were led to speak on the
manv well-fouo-ht naval battles which the
admiral had shared.
When Edward perceived that all were
engaged, he went round to Mrs. Parry's
chair, and leaning over her shoulder, said
in a low voice — " Dear Mrs. Parry, how
much happier am I to-day than I could
have been yesterday, under the same cir-
cumstances! I had then such a weight
ALICIA AND HER AUNT. 159
upon my spirits, that even tlie presence of
my father would have failed to remove
it."
" I hope it would, my dear Edward ;
for although it is a painful thing to feel
self-reproach, it is a far worse thing to
be so habituated to error that we have
ceased to feel it. But I am certain that
is neither the case with you nor poor
Charles."
" Oh no ! we have both been suffering,
justly suffering, all that my father's story
awakened so naturally in our minds; it has
confirmed every word you said on the sub-
ject last night."
" Then, my dear boy, we will forget all
that is past, except the excellent lesson it
inculcates, which is alike tlmt of experi-
ence, good sense, and Christianity — to
think before we speak."
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This book is DUE on the last
date stamped below
3m-8,'49(B5572)470
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AA 000 370 375 8
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