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I believe I am a sad wicked girl, Louisa! I was once strangely tempted to tell him I was much afraid his father had mistaken the trade to which his genius was best adapted, when he made him a baronet instead of a gardener. However I had the grace to bite my tongue and be silent. He might have had the retort courteous upon me, and have replied that gardening was much the most honourable trade of the two. But he would never have thought of that answer.

Thus the day, as I tell you, passed pleasantly and whimsically enough. But the night! Oh!--The night!--You shall hear.

It was the dusk of evening when we were at Maidenhead. We had then three stages to go, and Sir Arthur began to be alarmed by the rumours of depredations which had lately been committed on the road. I really do not know what to say to it; but there appears to be something deeper in the doctrine of sympathies than such silly girls as I can either account for or comprehend. I endeavoured with all my might to oppose the sensation, and yet I found my father's fears were catching. Frank Henley indeed begged of me, with great energy, not to be alarmed; for that he would die sooner than I should be insulted. Upon my honour, Louisa, he is a gallant youth!--You shall hear--But he is a brave, a gallant youth.

I cannot say but I wished I were a man; though I am convinced it was a foolish wish, and that it is a great mistake to suppose courage has any connexion with sex; if we except, as we ought, the influence of education and habit. My dear mother had not the bodily strength of Sir Arthur; but, with respect to cool courage and active presence of mind, I must say, Louisa, there was no comparison.

We set off, however, Frank having first provided himself with a hanger and a pair of pistols; and he now kept close to the chaise-door, without once quitting his station. I believe Sir Arthur was heartily glad at being thus provided with a guard, as it were unexpectedly, and without any foresight of his own. For, not to mention gold watches and trinkets, he had more money with him than he would have chosen to have lost, fright out of the question.

We proceeded thus without molestation as far as Brentford; but not without receiving fresh hints that it was very possible we might be visited; and then, though it began to be drawing toward midnight, Sir Arthur thought the danger chiefly over. As it happened he was mistaken. He was indeed, my dear! I assure you I could tremble now with the thoughts of it, but that my woman-hood forbids. I remember how valiant I have been in laughing at the pretty fears of pretty ladies, with their salts, hartshorn, fits, and burnt feathers. Beside, I would not have my Louisa think too meanly of me. Yet I assure you it was a terrible night.

We had just passed the broad part of Turnham Green, as Frank has since told me, and were near the end of a lane which strikes into the Uxbridge road, when the postillion was stopped by one highwayman, while almost at the same instant another dashed his pistol through the side-glass into the chaise, full in Sir Arthur's face.

Frank was on my side--Notwithstanding the length of the journey, he seemed to infuse his own ardour into the spirited animal on which he rode, and was round instantaneously--It was really dreadful!--The highwayman saw, or rather heard him coming, for it was prodigiously dark, and fired. Poor Frank was shot!--In the shoulder--But he says he did not feel it at first--He returned the fire; and the highwayman exclaimed, with a shocking oath, 'I am a dead man!' He rode away however full speed; and his associate, who stood to guard the post-boy, rode after him. Frank imagines that, owing to the darkness of the night, and his being so close under the chaise, they had not perceived him when they came to the attack.

But here let me tell you, for I am sure I ought, our protector, our hero is not dangerously wounded. He indeed makes very light of it; but I am persuaded he would do that if he had lost an arm. The moment the highwaymen were gone, he rode round to me to intreat me not to be alarmed, for that all was safe.

I was now seized with a fit of terror much greater, in effect, than my former panic. I fervently intreated Sir Arthur to let the servant take the bay mare, and ride for help! I begged, urgently, violently, for God's sake, that he would take my place in the chaise! I would mount the mare myself! I would do any thing! All the replies I could get were still more vehement intercessions from Frank Henley, that I would not be alarmed, assurances that there was not the least danger, the most obstinate determination not to quit his post, and, notwithstanding the pain which he could not but feel, a persisting to reload the discharged pistol, and then to proceed.

I know not myself how my fears were so far pacified as to yield to this, except that his energy seemed to overpower mine. Indeed I suffered dreadfully the rest of the way. I knew the youth's generous spirit, and my imagination was haunted with the idea, that the blood was flowing every foot of the road, and that he would rather drop from the horse than be subdued. It is impossible, indeed it is, to tell you what I felt.

At last we arrived in Grosvenor Street; and sure enough the poor fellow was faint with the loss of blood. 'My God!'--said I to Sir Arthur, when the light was brought, and I saw him--'Send for a surgeon! Good Heavens! Run! Somebody run for help!'--He still insisted he was but slightly hurt, and began to resume all his earnestness to quiet me. Sir Arthur did it more effectually by sending as I desired, and by telling me that, if I continued to agitate by contending with him so much, I might very possibly throw him into a fever, and make a wound, which most probably was not in itself dangerous, mortal.

I said not another word, except seriously and solemnly requesting him to calm his mind, for his own sake, if not for mine; for that, after being wounded in defence of me and my father, to die by my fault were dreadful indeed. He retired with more apparent satisfaction in his countenance than I think I ever saw before.

To convince me how trifling the hurt was, the gallant Frank insisted the next day on coming down to dinner; though he was allowed to eat nothing but chicken broth, and a light pudding. I never saw him so lively. His only present danger of death, he said, was by famine; and complained jocularly of the hardship of fasting after a long journey. I could almost have persuaded him to eat, for indeed he is a brave, a noble youth.

I know I never need apologize to my Louisa for the length of my letters. How can we enjoy equal pleasure to that of thus conversing in despite of distance, and though separated by seas and mountains? Indeed it is a kind of privation to end; but end I must--therefore--Adieu.

A. W. ST. IVES

LETTER V

Let me tell thee, before I proceed, that my wound is slight.--We were stopped by a couple of highwaymen. Thou never wert a witness of such angelic sensibility as the divine creature discovered, when she found I had received some hurt. She alarmed me beyond description, by the excess of her feelings. Oh! She has a soul alive to all the throbs of humanity! It shoots and shivers in every vein!--Then too when we arrived, when candles were brought thou hast no conception of, it is impossible to conceive the energy with which she insisted on sending for the best and most immediate help.

We had another battle of sensibility; for I assure thee I was almost as much alarmed for her as she could be for me.

Yet do not imagine I am fool enough to flatter myself with any false hopes. No: it was humanity; it was too deep a sense of a slight benefit received; it was totally distinct from love.--Oh no! Love, added to such strong, such acute sensations, surely, Oliver, it would have shrieked, would have fainted, would have died!--Her fears and feelings were powerful I grant, but they were all social, and would have been equally awakened for any creature whom she had known, and had equal cause to esteem. And she esteems all who have but the smallest claims to such respect; even me!--Did I tell thee it was she who petitioned Sir Arthur to lay his commands on me to attend them to London, knowing I wished it; and that this was in return for the trifling favour I had done her, in galloping after her with her favourite bird? Oh! She is all benignity! All grace! All angel!

Never did I feel such raptures as since I have received this fortunate, this happy wound!--Yet why?--Is not her heart exactly what it was? It is. I should be an idiot not to perceive it is. Strange contradiction! Hopeless yet happy!--But it is a felicity of short duration.

Would it were possible for me to accompany her to France! My restless foreboding imagination has persuaded me she will be in danger the moment she is from under my protection. Vain fool! Who, what am I?--Because a couple of dastardly highwaymen have galloped away at the first report of a pistol, my inflated fancy has been busy in persuading me that I am her hero!

Yet I wish I might go with her! Tell me, Oliver, wouldst not thou wish so too? Would not all the world wish the same? Didst thou ever in thy life behold her without feelings unusual, throbs, doubts, desires, and fears; wild, incoherent, yet deriving ecstasy from that divinity which irradiates her form and beams on every object around her?--Do!--Think me a poor, raving, lovesick blockhead! And yet it is true! All I have said of her, and infinitely more, is true! Thou nor the world cannot disprove it! Would I might go with her!

I have seen the fellow with whom I had the rencounter. His wound is much more severe than mine. Sir Arthur sent information to the office in Bow Street. Wouldst thou think a highwayman could be so foolish a coxcomb as to rob in a bright scarlet coat, and to ride a light grey horse? The bloodhunters the bloodhunters soon discovered the wounded man. Forty pounds afforded a sufficient impulse. They were almost ready to quarrel with me, because I did not choose to swear as heartily as they thought proper to prompt. Thou knowest how I abhor the taking away the life of man, instead of seeking his reformation.

After persisting that it was impossible for me to identify the person of the highwayman, as indeed it really was, and luckily prevailing on Sir Arthur to do the same I paid the poor wretch a visit, privately, and gave him such a lecture as, I should hope, he would not easily forget. It was not all censure: soothing, reasoning, and menace were mingled. My greatest effort was to convince him of the folly of such crimes; he had received some proof of the danger. He was in great pain, and did not think his life quite secure. He promised reformation with all the apparent fervour of sincerity, prayed for me, blessed me very heartily, and praised me for my bravery. He says the Bow Street runners will leave nothing unattempted to secure the reward, and take away his life. I have therefore engaged to hire a lodging, and bring a hackney coach for him myself, at seven in the morning, the hour least likely for him to be watched or traced. I believe I was more earnest to prevent harm happening to him than he himself was; for, having met a man upon the stairs, whose physiognomy, dress and appearance led me to suspect him, I questioned my penitent, who owned it was his accomplice; a determined fellow, according to his account; an Irish gambler, whose daring character led him, after a run of ill luck, to this desperate resource. It was with some difficulty I could persuade him the fellow might betray him, and join the Bow Street people. The gambler, as he says, expects a supply, and has promised him money. But he has consented to leave his lodging; and I think I have convinced him of the folly, danger, and guilt of such connections.

I found he was poor, and, except a few shillings, left him the trifle of money which I had; endeavouring by every means to restore a lost wretch to virtue and society. The fellow was not flint. The tears gushed into his eyes, and I own I came away with hopes that my efforts had not been wholly ineffectual.

I have written by the first post, that you mayst know what is become of me. Farewell.

F. HENLEY

LETTER VI

I have only time for a single line, but I cannot forbear to tell you how great the emotions have been which I felt, my dear Anna, at reading your last. Ten thousand thanks for your history; for so it may well be called. You have quite filled my mind with the pictures, incidents, and adventures of your journey.--Then your deliverer!--Such courage!--Such fortitude!--Such--!

I must not finish my sentence. I must not tell you all I think concerning him. There were two or three passages in your letter which raised doubts in my mind; but of these I was soon cured by recollecting a sentence at the beginning--'An effort must be made which will restore him to reason. Yet the question must be examined.'--Certainly--You could not be Anna St. Ives, and act or feel otherwise.

But I absolutely adore this youth, this Frank Henley!

The boy is waiting; he will be too late for the post. Be that my excuse for the briefness of this; but do not fail, my dear dear Anna, to write fully every thing that passes. Your last has both warmed my feelings, nay in some measure my fears, and excited my curiosity.

Yours eternally,

L. CLIFTON

P.S. I will write more at length tomorrow.

Most onnurable Sir, my ever onnurd Master,

The instructions you wus pleased to give me have bin kept in mind. Your onnur's commands is my duties; your precepts is my laws. For why? Your noble onnur knows how to command, and I knows how to obey.

The willow dell is fillin up; all hands is at work. I keeps 'em to it. The sloap of the grande kinal will be finisht and turft over in 3 wekes; and I have chosen the younk plants for the vardunt hall: nice wons they be too, your onnur!

But I have a bin ponderaitin on all these thinks, and sooth an trooth to say, your onnur, I doubt as how the bitt witch your noble onnur has a bin pleesd to stipilate and lay by for these here improvements But as I wus a sayin to your noble onnur--I am afeard we shall want cash; and I am a sure that would be a ten m of pitties. Especially if your onnur thinks any think more of the vister, with another church steepil in prospekshun. And to be sure it was a noble thoft; I must say it would be a sin and a shame to let sitch an elegunt ideer a slip through your fingurs. And then, pardn me your onnur, but for what, and for why, and for wherefore?

Besides all witch, your onnur wus a menshinnin a willdurness, and a hermmutidge, and a grotto; all witch as your onnur said would conceal the dead flat anenst the 3 old okes. And would your onnur think of stoppin short, after havin a done all that your onnur has a done, to bring Wenbourne Hill into vogue an reppitaishun, and make it the talk of the hole kuntree? Nay, for the matter of that, it is a that already; that I must say. But then, as your onnur says, in answer, nothink is done till every think is done.

And so I have paradventerd umbelly to speak my foolish thofts, on this here business. For why? I knows a what your onnur will say. Your onnur will tell me, when your onnur comes back. Ay, honest Aby, I wish the shiners' that I a spent and a bamboozild in that there France had a bin strewed over these here grounds. For, over and above of what I a bin a menshinnin to your onnur, there is the tempel beside a the new plantation, of a witch your onnur has so long a bin talkin of a buildin of. And then there is the extenshun and ogmenshun of the new ruins. So that all together, I must say that if simple honest Aby might paradventer to put in my oar to so generous and so noble a gentleman, and moreover won of his majesty's baronets, why I would keep the money now I had a got it; since, as your onnur finds, money is not so easy to be a come at. Pray your onnur, I beesiege your onnur don't forget that; money is not so easy to be a come at.

And so I most umbelly rimmane, with the blessin of almighty mercifool praise, your onnur's most umbel and most obedient, very faithfool and very thankfool, kind sarvent to command,

ABIMELECH HENLEY

P.S. I pray your onnur to think of the vister, and the willdurness, and the hermmutidge; I pray your onnur doo ee; not forrgettin the tempel. Think of the money your most dear gracious noble onnur; and think to what vantidge I could a lay it out for your onnur; that is, take me ritely your most exceptionable onnur, a savin and a sayin under your wise onnur's purtection, and currection, and every think of that there umbel and very submissive obedient kind. Bring me the man that a better knows how to lay-out his pound or his penni than myself; that is, always a savin and exceptin your noble onnur, as in rite and duty boundin. And then as to forin parts! Why, lawjus mighty! Your noble onnur has 'em at your fingur's ends. The temple will stand; blow or snow, a there it will be; I'll a answer for that; a shillin's worth for every shillin: but ast for the money a squitterd a here and a there in forin parts, what will your most noble onnur ever see for that? I most umbelly condysend to beg and beesiege your good and kind onnur's noble pardn for all this audacious interpolation, of and by witch any but your most disrespectfool onnur would say wus no better but so much mag: but I hopes and trusts your onnur, as you always have bin henceforth in times passt, is in the mind a well to take what a well is meant.

And so I wonce and again most perrumptallee beg leave, in all lowliness by the grace and blessin of God in his infinit goodness and mercy to superscribe meself.

ABIMELECH HENLEY

Frank Henley's accident has necessarily delayed our journey for a fortnight; nay, it was within an ace of being delayed for ever, and by the artful remonstrances of this Abimelech Henley. I have been obliged to exert all my influence, and all my rhetoric, upon Sir Arthur, or it would have been entirely given up. Rapacious and narrow in his own plans, this wretch, this honest Aby, as my father calls him, would not willingly suffer a guinea to be spent, except in improvements: that is, not a guinea which should not pass through his hands. A letter from him to Sir Arthur has been the cause of this contest.

I stand rather high in his opinion, and he has done me the honour to consult me lately on a family affair. The Edgemoor estate, of eight hundred per annum, is entailed on him, as the heir of St. Ives, by my grandfather's will; with right of possession at the age of twenty-four. Sir Arthur I suppose does not find it convenient to abridge his income so materially, and has been endeavouring to persuade him that it is his duty and interest not to insist upon possession; at least for the present. My brother is not pleased with the proposal, and has complaisantly written to ask my opinion, with an evident determination to follow his own, he having now almost completed his twenty-fourth year. My answer was an attempt to call to his mind the true use of money; and, unless he should have found the art of employing it worthily, I advised him to shew his filial affection and oblige Sir Arthur.

I can prophesy however that he will have no forbearance. Not to mention debts, he has too many imaginary and impatient wants to submit to delay. Neither have I any great desire that he should; being convinced that the want of money is the only impediment that can put a stop to Sir Arthur's improvements.

This incident, in my then temper of mind, produced its full effect. I knew Sir Arthur's way: I knew he would not willingly see me himself; and, immediately suspecting that his letter was from honest Aby, I determined if possible he should not escape me. He was in his own room; and how to draw him out? An hour would soon be gone! I therefore employed an artifice, which, on after recollection, I am convinced was wrong; very wrong! I went into the drawing-room, and bade the footman go to him and announce Miss Wenbourne. I have a maiden aunt of that name, whom I was christened after, who lives in London, and whom I believe you never saw. The trick succeeded, and Sir Arthur came into the drawing-room. He looked disconcerted at seeing me, and the following dialogue began.

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