Part 17 (2/2)

Mr. Powis enter'd:--the room seem'd to lift up:--I quite rambled when I rose to receive his salute.--Mr. Morgan was giving me the slip.--I look'd at him significantly,--then at Mr. Watson,--as much as to say, Take him out; acquaint him with the sorrowful tidings.--He understood the hint, and immediately they withdrew together.

Come, dear Risby, pluck up, said Mr. Powis:--do not you, my friend, be the only low-spirited person amongst us.--I fear Mr. Risby is not well, return'd Lady Powis.--We must not expect to see every one in high spirits, because _we_ are:--_our_ blessings must be consider'd as _very_ singular.--You have not mention'd f.a.n.n.y to your friends.

Indeed, Madam, I have, replied he.--Risby knows, I every minute expect my belov'd daughter.--But tell me, d.i.c.k;--tell me, my friend;--all present are myself;--fear not to be candid;--what accident has thrown a cloud of sadness over your once chearful countenance?--Can I a.s.sist you?--My advice, my interest, my purse are all your own.--Nay, dear Risby, you must not turn from me.--I did turn, I could hold it no longer.--

Pray Sir, said Mrs. Powis, do speak;--do command us; and she condescended to lay her hand on mine--Lady Powis, Sir James too, both intreated I would suffer them to make me happy.--Dear worthy creatures, how my heart bled! how it still bleeds for them!--

I was attempting some awkward acknowledgment, when Mr. Watson enter'd, led by Mr. Morgan.--I saw he had executed the task, which made me shudder.--Never did the likeness of a being celestial s.h.i.+ne more than in the former! He mov'd gently forward,--plac'd himself next Lady Powis;--pale,--trembling,--sinking.--Mr. Morgan retir'd to the window.--

Now,--now,--the dreadful discovery was at a crisis.--Mr. Watson sigh'd.--Lady Powis eyed him with attention; then starting up, cried, Bless me! I hear wheels: suppose, Mr. Watson, it should be f.a.n.n.y!--and after looking into the lawn resum'd her chair.

Pardon me, Lady Powis said. Mr. Watson in a low-voice; why _this_ impatience?--Ah Madam! I could rather wish you to check than encourage _it_.

Hold, hold, my worthy friend, return'd Sir James; do you forget four hours since how you stood listening at a gate by the road-side, saying, you could hear, tho' not see?

We must vary our hopes and inclinations, reply'd Mr. Watson.--Divine Providence--there stopp'd;--not another word.--He stopp'd;--he groan'd;--and was silent.--Great G.o.d! cried Mr. Powis, is my child ill?--Is my child dead? frantickly echoed Mrs. Powis--Heaven forbid!

exclaim'd Sir James and his Lady, arising.--Tell us, Mr. Watson;--tell us, Mr. Ruby.

When you are compos'd,--return'd the former--Then, our child is dead,--really dead! shriek'd the parents.--No, no, cried Lady Powis, clasping her son and daughter in her arms,--she is, not dead; I am sure she is not dead.

Mr. Watson, after many efforts to speak, said in a faultering voice,--Consider we are christians:--let that bless'd name fortify our souls.

Mrs. Powis fell on her knees before him,--heart-rending sight!--her cap torn off,--her hair dishevell'd,--her eyes fix'd;--not a tear,--not a single tear to relieve the bitter anguish of her soul.

Sir James had left the room;--Lady Powis was sunk almost senseless on the sopha;--Mr. Powis kneeling by his wife, clasping her to his bosom;--Mr. Morgan in a corner roaring out his affliction;--Mr. Watson with the voice of an angel speaking consolation.--I say nothing of my own feelings.--G.o.d, how great!--how inexpressible! when Mrs. Powis, still on her knees, turn'd to me with uplifted hands,--Oh Mr. Risby!

cried she,--can _you,_--can _you_ speak comfort to the miserable?--Then again addressing Mr. Watson,--Dear, saint, only say she lives:--I ask no more; only say she lives.--My best love!--my life!--my f.a.n.n.y! said Mr.

Powis, lifting her to the sopha;--live,--live,--for my sake.--Oh!--Risby, are _you_ the messenger?--his head fell on my shoulder, and he sobb'd aloud.

Lady Powis beckon'd him towards her, and, looking at Mrs. Powis with an expressive glance of tenderness,--said Compose yourself, my son;--what will become of _you, if_--He took the meaning of her words, and wrapping his arms about his wife, seem'd for a moment to forget his own sorrow in endeavours to.

What an exalted woman is Lady Powis!

My children, said she; taking a hand from each,--I am thankful: whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.--Let us follow his great example of patience,--of resignation.--What is a poor span?--_Ours_ will be eternity.

I whisper'd Mr. Morgan, a female friend would be necessary to attend the Ladies;--one whom they lov'd,--whom they confided in, to be constantly with them in their apartments.--He knew just such a woman, he said; and went himself to fetch Mrs. Jenkings.--Lady Powis being unable longer to support herself, propos'd withdrawing.--I offered my arm, which she accepted, and led her to the dressing-room.--Mrs. Powis follow'd; almost lifeless, leaning on her husband: there I left them together, and walk'd out for a quarter of an hour to recover my confus'd senses.

At my return to the library, I found Sir James and Mr. Watson in conversation.--The former, with a countenance of horror and distraction,--Oh Sir! said he, as I came near him,--do I see you again?--are you kind enough not to run from our distress?

Run from it, Sir James! I reply'd;--no, I will stay and be a partaker.

Oh Sir! he continued, you know not _my_ distress:--death only can relieve _me_--I am without _hope_, without _comfort_.

And is this, Sir James, what you are arriv'd at? said the good chaplain--Is this what you have been travelling sixty years after?--Wish for death yet say you have neither hope or comfort.--Your good Lady, Sir, is full of both;--_she_ rejoices in affliction:--_she_ has long look'd above this world.

So might I, he reply'd,--had I no more to charge myself with than she has.--_You_ know, Mr. Watson,--_you_ know how faulty I have been.

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