At so thoughtless an age, with an education so unfavourable to religious
impressions; swayed, likewise, by the strongest of human passions; made
somewhat impatient, by the company I kept, of the disrepute and scorn to
which the Jewish nation are everywhere condemned, I could not be
expected to be very averse to the scheme. "My fears as to what my father's decision would be were soon at an end. He loved his child too well to thwart her wishes in so essential a
point. Finding in me no scruples, no unwillingness, he thought it absurd
to be scrupulous for me. My own heart having abjured my religion, it was
absurd to make any difficulty about a formal renunciation. These were
his avowed reasons for concurrence, but time showed that he had probably
other reasons, founded, indeed, in his regard for my happiness, but such
as, if they had been known, would probably have strengthened into
invincible the reluctance of my lover's family. "No marriage was ever attended with happier presages. The numerous
relations of my husband admitted me with the utmost cordiality among
them. My father's tenderness was unabated by this change, and those
humiliations to which I had before been exposed were now no more; and
every tie was strengthened, at the end of a year, by the feelings of a
_mother_. I had need, indeed, to know a season of happiness, that I
might be fitted to endure the sad reverses that succeeded. One after the
other my disasters came, each one more heavy than the last, and in such
swift succession that they hardly left me time to breathe. "I had scarcely left my chamber, I had scarcely recovered my usual
health, and was able to press with true fervour the new and precious
gift to my bosom, when melancholy tidings came. I was in the country, at
the seat of my father-in-law, when the messenger arrived. "A shocking tale it was! and told abruptly, with every unpitying
aggravation. I hinted to you once my father's death. The _kind_ of
death--oh! my friend! It was horrible. He was then a placid, venerable
old man; though many symptoms of disquiet had long before been
discovered by my mother's watchful tenderness. Yet none could suspect
him capable of such a deed; for none, so carefully had he conducted his
affairs, suspected the havoc that mischance had made of his property. "I, that had so much reason to love my father,--I will leave you to
imagine how I was affected by a catastrophe so dreadful, so
unlooked-for. Much less could I suspect the cause of his despair; yet he
had foreseen his ruin before my marriage; had resolved to defer it, for
his daughter's and his wife's sake, as long as possible, but had still
determined not to survive the day that should reduce him to indigence. The desperate act was thus preconcerted--thus deliberate. "The true state of his affairs was laid open by his death. The failure
of great mercantile houses at Frankfort and Liege was the cause of his
disasters. "Thus were my prospects shut in. That wealth which, no doubt, furnished
the chief inducement with my husband's family to concur in his choice,
was now suddenly exchanged for poverty. "Bred up, as I had been, in pomp and luxury; conscious that my wealth
was my chief security from the contempt of the proud and bigoted, and my
chief title to the station to which I had been raised, and which I the
more delighted in because it enabled me to confer so great obligations
on my husband,--what reverse could be harder than this, and how much
bitterness was added by it to the grief occasioned by the violent death
of my father! "Yet loss of fortune, though it mortified my pride, did not prove my
worst calamity. Perhaps it was scarcely to be ranked with evils, since
it furnished a touchstone by which my husband's affections were to be
tried; especially as the issue of the trial was auspicious; for my
misfortune seemed only to heighten the interest which my character had
made for me in the hearts of all that knew me. The paternal regards of
Sir Ralph had always been tender, but that tenderness seemed now to be
redoubled. "New events made this consolation still more necessary. My unhappy
mother!--She was nearer to the dreadful scene when it happened; had no
surviving object to beguile her sorrow; was rendered, by long habit,
more dependent upon fortune than her child. "A melancholy, always mute, was the first effect upon my mother. Nothing
could charm her eye, or her ear. Sweet sounds that she once loved, and
especially when her darling child was the warbler, were heard no longer. How, with streaming eyes, have I sat and watched the dear lady, and
endeavoured to catch her eye, to rouse her attention!--But I must not
think of these things. "But even this distress was little in comparison with what was to come. A frenzy thus mute, motionless, and vacant, was succeeded by fits,
talkative, outrageous, requiring incessant superintendence, restraint,
and even violence. "Why led you me thus back to my sad remembrances? Excuse me for the
present. I will tell you the rest some other time; to-morrow." To-morrow, accordingly, my friend resumed her story. "Let me now make an end," said she, "of my mournful narrative, and
never, I charge you, do any thing to revive it again. "Deep as was my despondency, occasioned by these calamities, I was not
destitute of some joy. My husband and my child were lovely and
affectionate. In their caresses, in their welfare, I found peace; and
might still have found it, had there not been----. But why should I open
afresh wounds which time has imperfectly closed? But the story must some
time be told to you, and the sooner it is told and dismissed to
forgetfulness the better. "My ill fate led me into company with a woman too well known in the idle
and dissipated circles. Her character was not unknown to me. There was
nothing in her features or air to obviate disadvantageous
prepossessions. I sought not her intercourse; I rather shunned it, as
unpleasing and discreditable, but she would not be repulsed. Self-invited, she made herself my frequent guest; took unsolicited part
in my concerns; did me many kind offices; and, at length, in spite of my
counter-inclination, won upon my sympathy and gratitude. "No one in the world, did I fondly think, had I less reason to fear than
Mrs. Waring. Her character excited not the slightest apprehension for my
own safety. She was upwards of forty, nowise remarkable for grace or
beauty; tawdry in her dress; accustomed to render more conspicuous the
traces of age by her attempts to hide them; the mother of a numerous
family, with a mind but slenderly cultivated; always careful to save
appearances; studiously preserving distance with my husband, and he,
like myself, enduring rather than wishing her society. What could I fear
from the arts of such a one? "But alas! the woman had consummate address. Patience, too, that nothing
could tire. Watchfulness that none could detect. Insinuation the wiliest
and most subtle.