 I left Sir George with him and went out to inquire whether we could be provided with a coach and four, which after some delay was procured for us. We prevailed on Mr. Falkland whilst it was getting ready to take a little refreshment. He asked us by what means we were informed of his departure. Sir George, unwilling to let him know that his servant had discovered it, evaded the question and only replied, Do you think, Falkland, that in the humour I left you, I could be inattentive to your motions? I am not a madman, Badoff, I must not be treated like one. I do not think you one answered your brother, but I know you are warm and too fearless of danger. When the coach was ready Mr. Falkland very willingly got into it with us. He spoke but little and appeared very thoughtful during our journey. The coachman stopped at an inn after we had driven about fifteen miles to bait his horses for a while. He seemed startled at it and said he would not alight. We told him there was no occasion, but your brother and I chose to go into the house, that he might not think we watched him. He seemed pleased at this, and smiled when we set forward again, but did not speak. When we arrived in London, now, sir, said I, we will if you please go directly to Mrs. Arnold's house, as I am sure you are absenting yourself in the manner you did exceedingly afflicted her, so am I certain your return will give her sincere joy. I am ready, therefore, to attend you immediately to her, but if I may advise you, I think it were better that I should first see and talk to her. It will be proper to prepare her by giving at least one night to reflect on the important event which I expect will take place to-morrow. So, George, what are your sentiments? I am of your mind, replied your brother, I think my sister ought by all means to have so much time given her for reflection. If Falkland has no objection to it, we will go to my friend's house, where he was before, when you have seen my sister you may come to us there with her determination. I have submitted myself for the present, answered Mr. Falkland to your guidance. No remember, I am to be at liberty. Bid off, beware how you watch my motions again. Your brother then directed the coachman to his friend's house, Mr. Falkland not opposing the motion. I went in for a few minutes merely to satisfy myself in what manner Mr. Falkland had escaped from thence in order to inform you. Mr. Falkland was very urgent with me to go to you. Despite me not long in suspense, sir, said he, I may as well know my fate to-night as to-morrow. I left him with a promise to return with your final answer. You know my sentiments, you know your brothers, and it rests on you to pronounce a sentence of life or death, for your answer imports no less, on a man who is worthy of the greatest queen in the universe. What do you say, Mrs. Arnold, must Falkland die? Heaven forbid, cried I, no, sir, I should be inflexible indeed, if after what you have told me I were any longer to resist. I yield, sir, to your request, to Mr. Falkland's and to my brother's, and I will own at the same time that my heart strongly impels me to consent. But, my dear sir, believe me, I should have resisted that impulse if I could hope that my refusal would not be followed by consequences too dreadful to be thought on. There is therefore no alternative. I must be the wife of Mr. Falkland. The sooner the affair is finished, then, the better, said he. Falkland stands here on slippery ground. Perhaps some of the Bond family may by this time be arrived in England and in pursuit of him. Therefore, let your marriage be dispatched immediately, and send him away directly to Holland. I suppose, when he has made sure of you, he may be prevailed on to go without you. Oh, sir, said I, urge this request to him, I beseech you. It is the last importance to me that he should comply with it, and the only preliminary that I have now to make to our marriage. Yes, yes, answered my kinsman, I think we shall convince him of the necessity of this. I shall escort you to Holland myself, for I have business at Rotterdam, and I have thoughts of taking the voyage if this occasion had not offered. We will but just stay to settle some affairs here and observe what measures can be taken for his service, and then follow him. I encourage my dear, continued he, seeing me look sad, all may come right yet. I love out of the way adventures, and this I think is one. We will live like princes, let us go where we will. I only wish that your brother were against the match, that I might have the more pleasure in forwarding it, but I need not grudge him that once in his life he has shown some token of generosity. I will return to Falkland, I long to set his noble heart at ease. Strange, perverse creatures your sex are, it amazes me that anything could tempt you to reject such a man, where I a woman I should run mad for him. Well I will go to him, and let him know without any further demers, you will give him your hand tomorrow morning. Our honest friend Price, I think, may join you. I will call on him after I have seen Falkland, to bid him prepare for the business. I will myself have the pleasure of giving you away, goodbye, and away he went with a pleased, busy countenance. I took up my pen as soon as he departed, and have scribbled thus far without suffering any reflections to stop me. Let me now lay down my pen to pause, before I leap into the frightful precipice that opens before me, to-morrow. Ah, my Cecilia, what is that morrow to produce? It joins me for ever to Mr. Falkland, the chosen of my heart, my first love, the man who adores me, who deserves all my affection, who has obliged me beyond all reconsense, who has acclaimed to my warmest gratitude, to my esteem, to my whole heart. I save his life, I have the power to make him happy, my brother, my kinsman urges me, my own heart too prompts me. Why cannot I then reconcile myself to my lot? Oh, that question is answered by a fearful image that starts up to my fancy. I am not superstitious yet, believe me, my dear. I am at this instant, chilled with horror. I am ashamed to confess my weakness, but I must call Patti to sit with me the remainder of the night. I cannot think of rest. Wednesday morning. I have passed the whole night in endeavouring to fortify my mind against the important event that a few hours will accomplish. If Mr. Falkland's mind should again become tranquil, which my kinsman gave me room to hope would be the consequence of gratifying the ardent wish of his soul, I must take care not to disturb it by showing any reluctance in yielding him my hand. But an angel once told me that I should give my hand reluctantly to Mr. Falkland. I should not have believed it. Yet fatally circumstance as our marriage now is, it cannot be otherwise. And yet I ought to be his. I owe him a great sacrifice, and I am about to pay it. I am dressed and ready. I wait for my kinsman, or my brother, one of whom, or both perhaps, will be here presently. Mr. Warner is come. I have but just time to tell you that my brother and Mr. Price are with Mr. Falkland. My kinsman says he is quite a new man. They wait for me. I go. Heaven guide my steps. Thursday. My fate is accomplished. What a change! Being with me, my dear Cecilia, in beseeching heaven to look graciously down on me in my new state, and to guide and protect my beloved Mr. Falkland, my ever-destined husband. Alas, my dear, he is now many miles separated from me. The worthy Mr. Price performed the sacred ceremony. Mr. Warner did the office of a father. He and my brother were all who were present. There is something so amazing in all this, I can scarce credit my senses, but my life has been a series of strange, strange events. I am so bewildered I cannot connect my thoughts, but I will try to give you my yesterday's vision, for I can hardly persuade myself that what I recollect really happened. I broke off, just as Mr. Warner called on me to carry me to the house of my brother's friend. Before we were in the coach, he told me that having the night before informed Mr. Falkland of the joyful news of my consenting to marry him the next day, he seemed at first to doubt and repeatedly conjured him not to deceive him. Till having received the most solemn assurances of it being true, Mr. Falkland gave himself up to such ecstasies as made them apprehensive his joy might have effects almost as fatal in their consequences as his despair was likely to produce before. Mr. Warner had a mind to lower him a little and thought by putting him in mind of his danger somewhat to allay his transports. Mrs. Arnold's consent to make you happy said he fills me with extreme joy, but it is not now a time to indulge it. You are here in peril of your life. You must preserve it now for Mrs. Arnold's sake. For Mrs. Arnold's sake, he replied with ecstasy, yes, yes, it is now worth preserving. Mr. Warner, kinsman, friend of my life, grasping his hand, dispose of me as you please, you shall guide all my steps. Will not Mrs. Arnold go with me after we are made one? If, after having considered what may be urged to you on that head, you should still continue to desire it, replied my cousin, she will without doubt accompany you. But, my dear sir, consider, circumstance as you now are what will the world say should she accompany your flight? It will fix an indelible stain on her character which is dearer to her than life, and which I am sure upon cooler thoughts you will prize at an equal value. This marriage will be a profound secret to the world. It may remain so as long as we please. I have business in Holland which will demand my presence there in a very short time. Her accompanying me thither can give rise to no suspicion. I will dispatch my affairs with all possible speed and conduct her to you. The joy that before lighted up his countenance pursued my cousin seemed a little clouded. He took a turn or two about the room as if to consider of what I had said, then addressing himself jointly to your brother and me. You are both cooler than I am. Perhaps you may judge better. Let me but call her mine. I will then do as you would have me. I cannot determine on anything now. As soon as my sister and you are married, said Sir George, I think, Falkland, you ought to get out of England with all the speed you can. It will be but a short absence. Sidney will soon follow you. What do you purpose doing in regard to your son? I had forgot him, cried Mr. Falkland. Poor child! My heart has been in such tumult since Mr. Warner came in that I could think of nothing but the blessed news he has brought me. But I must not neglect my boy. I will write to the honest servant that I left behind. He shall bring him over. You, my dear Bidolf, will take care of him till an opportunity offers of sending him to me. I hope there will be no need, replied your brother, of sending him out of England. Your affairs may yet turn out so as to permit your return into your own country. Impossible! interrupted Mr. Falkland, if Smith should ever recover, his representation of the other accidents cuts off every hope. He will not, for his own sake, confess the truth, but impute the error of my fatal hand to premeditated guilt. Heaven knows, base as she was, I would not have attempted her life, but I was born to be an avenger of those crimes into the commission of which I perhaps first led her. As for the contemptible villain who wronged me, I do not repent the punishment I inflicted on him, though probably, had I been allowed a moment's time for recollection, I might have taken vengeance in a manner more worthy of myself. I was delighted, proceeded Mr. Warner, to find him so cool and rational in his reflections. He continued talking calmly and reasonably on the subject of his misfortunes, but on the mention of your name started again into raptures. But they now seem to be only those of joy upon the prospect of what was to happen the next day. After I left him, I went to Mr. Price, who promised to be in readiness at the appointed hour. We were now got to the house of my brother's friend. Mr. Warner led me upstairs into the room where Sir George, Mr. Falkland, and Mr. Price were sitting together. After Falkland was so agitated at the sight of me that having risen to salute me he was not able to speak, but seizing both my hands he kissed them fervently, one after the other, tears dropping on them as he held them to his lips. Everyone was silent. We were all too much affected to speak. My brother was the first that broke silence. Well, Falkland, said he, have we not kept our promise? Mr. Falkland turned towards him. Oh, bid off! Forgive me for doubting. I am afraid I have used you ill. Can you pardon the madness that I was driven to by despair? Mr. Warner, Mrs. Arnold, I believe you think me distracted. Indeed I am not. I was only—and he seemed to hesitate for a word. In the theory of life I thought I had lost everything. The world was grown a desert, no one in it for me. You formed a wrong judgment, my dear sir, answered Mr. Warner. You find yourself now with your sincere friends, Sir George and myself are both so, and your bride, your dear Mrs. Arnold, is ready to give you her hand. I am, sir, said I, and if your happiness still depends on me, it gives me joy that I have at length the power of bestowing it. I have no words, he replied, I can find none. It is all here. And he laid his hand on his heart, his eyes fixed with delight on my face. I beheld him now, my Cecilia, in a light in which I had never before viewed him, overwhelmed by misfortunes of which I accused myself as being the author. I saw him, an exile, likely to be deprived of a noble fortune, his heart pierced with remorse for an involuntary crime. I saw, too, that he loved me, loved me with a fervent and incongruable passion, of this in the anguish of his soul, at a time when he was wrought up to frenzy, he had given but too strong demonstration. Shall I own it to you, my Cecilia? I think I never loved him, as I did in that moment. My heart was at once assailed by a variety of passions amongst which gratitude and the softest compassion were predominant. I continued silent while Mr. Falkland remained ardently gazing at me. My brother, I believe, thought us too solemn. The occasion indeed required it, but his fears for Mr. Falkland made him wish to give the scene a livelier turn. Come, sister, said he, let us not defer the happy event for which we are now met. We have no time to waste in ceremony. You remember what our mother used to say? Many things fall out between the cup and the lip. My brother rose off his chair as he said this. Mr. Warner, taking the hint, approached and took me by the hand. Let me, said he to Mr. Falkland, have the happiness of bestowing this best of creatures on the man that I think best deserves her. Mr. Falkland made no reply, but in taking the hand that my kinsman put into his, his looks spoke the rapture that swelled his heart, though I saw he put a constraint upon himself and endeavoured to assume a deportment suitable to the important and solemn occasion. After the indissoluble knot was tied, my brother desired Mr. Falkland to retire with him into the next room for a few moments. I concluded it was in order to press his departure and to prevail on him to submit to going without me. This, I found afterwards, was the subject of their conversation. They returned to us in about a quarter of an hour. Mr. Falkland's countenance less embarrassed than it was at going out of the room. Upon their entering Mr. Price took his leave. My brother addressed Mr. Warner and me. Falkland, said he, is convinced of the necessity there is for his immediately withdrawing from England, and he is determined to depart from hence at three o'clock to-morrow morning, for I would by no means have him leave London by daylight. As we know not, who may be on the watch to trace his steps, he has consented that you sister should remain behind till Mr. Warner's affairs will permit him to conduct you over. In the meantime Master Falkland is to be brought from Ireland, and if you should not be ready to depart before his arrival you may take him over with you to Holland. Mr. Falkland seemed rather to suffer my brother to make this explanation for him than to assent cheerfully to it. Mr. Warner and I however laid hold of it, and immediately entered into discourse on the subject of our domestic concerns, and the measures proper to be observed on so critical an occasion. Mr. Falkland joined in the conversation with the utmost composure, and to my unspeakable joy seemed perfectly settled and collected in his mind. I thought indeed he appeared a little constrained, and that he seemed to keep a constant regard over himself lest he should betray any symptom of a too much heated imagination. But my kinsman afterwards observed with pleasure to me that this denoted nothing more than a consciousness in Mr. Falkland of the unhappy wandering that had before so much alarmed us all, and into which he was sure there was not the least danger of his relapsing, as his heart was now perfectly at ease. Mr. Falkland told us he had letters to write to Ireland, which he would dispatch, that he might have nothing to interrupt the few short hours we had to pass together in the evening. Mr. Warner said he had business to do that called him away, but that he would return after dinner, and my brother, that Mr. Falkland might be quite undisturbed, proposed my going home with him, and that we should come back together in the afternoon. Mr. Falkland did not object to this, and I went with Sir George. We returned early in the afternoon to Mr. Falkland, as my brother had let his friend into our secret we had passed upstairs without any notice being taken of us. Mr. Falkland had written two letters, one of them very long, to Mr. Bond, which he gave my brother to read, but I know not the contents of it. The other was to that careful, honest servant whom he had mentioned to us, with orders to bring over Mr. Falkland with all convenient speed, and put him into Sir George's hands. Mr. Warner, but just called in upon us in the evening, he said he had been making the necessary preparations for Mr. Falkland's journey, and that having resolved himself to attend him as far as Harwich, he would, at the hour appointed, call on him in a coach, which should carry them a few miles out of town where the horses were to wait for them. Worthy, compassionate and generous kinsman, how I love you for the honest warmth of your heart! My brother and Mr. Falkland had a great deal of discourse about the necessary measures that were to be taken by us all, and we passed the evening in a kind of chastened satisfaction which could not arise to happiness from the near prospect we had of parting. About ten o'clock my brother took an affectionate leave of his friend, he excused himself from accompanying him on his journey, on account of Lady Sarah's not being well. To see such a parting would at another time have deeply affected me, but my owner of separation drew near. It came, and Mr. Warner punctured to his time, hurried Mr. Falkland almost by force into the coach, and drove off with him. I threw myself into a chair which he had ordered for me, and was carried home. I went not to bed, but had recourse to my pen. God preserve my dear fugitive! I can do nothing but weep. And lie the second. My mind was too much unsettled yesterday to dictate anything coherent. I am now, thank heaven, more composed. Sir George and Lady Sarah have been with me during the greatest part of the day, both kind and consoling. My brother seems to have all his former affection for me revived in his heart. He is indeed charmed with my justice, as he calls it. Lady Sarah, who at the bottom of her heart is no way concerned about this event, affects, however, to think as her husband does, and commends me for my generosity. I feel myself easier in proportion as I think Mr. Falkland gets farther out of the reach of danger. Sir George says by this time he may be on his voyage. I shall certainly wait till the child arrives in order to take him with me. My two little girls will be fond of such a brother, for he is a charming boy. My brother flatters me with a possibility at least of Major Smith's recovering, and if so, he says that Mr. Falkland may stand his trial for the other accident, as he is in hope Smith will not persist in his villainy so far as to add perjury to his other crimes. I have but little expectations of justice from so bad a man, but I would not discourage my friends in their endeavours to comfort me. July 3. Mr. Warner is returned from Harwich, after having seen Mr. Falkland safe on board the packet, and even under sail for Holland. What a benevolent heart has this good relation of mine! Indeed, I dearly love and respect him. His return has revived my spirits, and I begin to lose my fears. He brought me a short letter from Mr. Falkland. Not it is, but his heart speaks in every syllable of it. I will not give you the contents, my Cecilia. You will think it too extravagant, too romantic for a husband to write so to his wife. July 6. I long yet dread to hear accounts from Ireland. I fear that Wretched Smith is dead. No mail has arrived from thence these eight days. Every winds, they tell me, detain the packets on the other side, very often, for a fortnight together. If that be so, how fortunate was Mr. Falkland in seizing on a lucky hour for his departure from the Irish shore. I suppose Mr. Bond's family, whom he must have rendered very unhappy, particularly the daughter, are all now his implacable enemies and are tormenting themselves in being detained from the pursuit of their vengeance. But let them come now, when they will, he is far out of the reach of his foes. I would it were possible for my Cecilia to arrive in England before my departure for Holland. Indeed my dear, I shall not be sorry if I am detained from Mr. Falkland till I have the happiness of first embracing you, as our separation may be afterwards of a long continuance. I shall wait for the arrival of Mr. Falkland, and who knows, but adverse winds may detain him till your return. Oh, that I may pass, though it be but one day, with the dear companion of my youth, before we are again divided. I will not send this packet off till I am ready to depart from England, as that will be closing an important period of my life. What would I give that my dearest friend would come, and instead of this tedious narrative which I have written, receive the account from my own lips? If my wishes should not be granted in this, cannot you make Holland your way home? Mr. Falkland purposes staying at the Hague till I go to him. Why am I marked out for divine vengeance? Before I lose my senses all my life, for both I cannot retain, hear the last act of your friend's tragic story. My brother called on me this day. He gave me a letter directed to Mr. Falkland which came under a cover to him. He did it, said he, it is from Ireland, and may contain something material for us to know. It was from the honest servant Mr. Falkland left behind him. See what he says, and then tell me if I ought to live any longer. Honoured sir, I have the happiness to send you a piece of good news which made me wish for wings to have flown over to you with it. My lady, heaven be praised, is not dead, nor so much as hurt. I am thankful for this, sir, on your account, not hers. I don't know what possessed the people at Mr. Bonds to tell me she was dead. The mistake, to be sure, was occasioned by the great confusion the family were thrown into, and indeed from what I myself saw I was sure she was actually dead. Andrew Smith lived till the surgeon came, but had been speechless for two or three hours and died whilst his wounds were probing. My lady had only fallen into a fit, and the major, having bled prodigiously, she received a great deal of his blood upon her linen, and as afterwards he contrived to throw himself on the bed, which was at some distance from the place where she had fallen, gave occasion to Mrs. Bond, who was herself the first person that entered the room after the sad accident, on finding my lady lying senseless, pale and bloody on the floor, to suppose she had been killed. This alarm ran through the family, and was confirmed to me by every one in it, as we servants soon quitted the chamber, and the major himself said that you discharged one of the pistols at your lady and the other at him. I returned to Mr. Bond's in the morning, after you were gone off, to inquire whether Major Smith was alive or not. He was just then dead. The waiting-maid informed me that my lady, to their great surprise, was recovered, having only been in a fainting fit which held her above an hour, without her showing any signs of life, and that she had fallen from one to another till morning. When she, father, said, begging your honours, pardon, it would be no great matter if she had died in one, for she believed it was for no good she went into the major's room at that time of night. I stayed about the house all the day, to pick up what intelligence I could from the servants. Young Mr. Bond, with two or three men, went to your house, and not finding you there, I suppose, rode in pursuit of you, but heaven be praised, you have escaped their hands. The waiting-maid, who was a very civil young woman, told me in the evening that my lady, being come a little to herself, though I believe not in her right mind, was informed of the major's death at which she was so exceedingly terrified, that finding herself ill besides she confessed the whole truth of the matter, and proved that the major died with a lie in his mouth, so that I hope Mr. Bond's family will not be so spiteful as to prosecute the affair any farther. My lady was sent home directly in the chariot, as they could not bear the sight of her any longer in the house. She takes on mightily, but we all bless ourselves that she is alive. I shall make bold to enclose this according to your order, to Sir George Bidolf, and as soon as I receive your commands about Master shall make no delay in this unlucky place. I am honoured, Sir, your dutiful and obedient servant, Frederick Hildy. July 26th. Adieu, my Cecilia, adieu. Nothing but my death should close such a scene as this. Here, to the editor's great disappointment, Mrs. Arnold's interesting story broke off, that unhappy lady not having continued her journal any further. But as this seemed to be one of the most affecting periods of her life, his curiosity induced him to inquire of the gentleman from whom he received these papers, whether he could give him any farther light into her story, as he thought it not improbable that he might have learned from his mother some other particulars relating to her. His friend told him that he knew his mother had drawn up a narrative of the subsequent remarkable events in the life of Mrs. Arnold at the request of a particular friend, that he had once heard it read, but as he was then a boy it made but little impression upon him, that afterwards when he wanted to have his curiosity gratified, his mother told him she could not find the manuscript and feared it was lost. However, he said he would search her papers and if he recovered it, it should be at his service. After some time the gentleman informed the editor that he had made the strictest scrutiny into his mother's papers, and could find nothing relative to the subject of Mrs. Arnold except a few loose sheets, which seemed to have been the foul copy of the beginning of her narrative, and at the same time put them into his hands. These the editor offers to the public as he received them without any alteration or addition. Cecilia's narrative being a supplement to Mrs. Arnold's journal. I set out on my return to England immediately after the receipt of her last journal, the melancholy clothes of which had exceedingly terrified and afflicted me. Immediately on my arrival in London I flew to the dear friend of my heart. She was still at her house in Palmale. I found the dear Sydney alone in her bed-chamber. She had been prepared to receive me, but though I had endeavour to arm myself with resolution for this affecting interview, I was not mistress of myself at the sight of her. The tears I shed did not spring from that sweet emotion which long severed friends' feel at seeing each other again. I wept in sorrow for the heavy misfortunes of the best of women. But Mrs. Arnold still herself, and superior to adversity, received me with the tenderest marks of friendship, and with a composure that amazed me. Piety, meekness, and patience were ever Mrs. Arnold's characteristics, and they now all appeared blended and so strongly impressed on her beautiful face, that I could not look at her without admiration. As I was astonished to find her so calm under so trying an affliction, I could not help expressing myself to that purpose, but Mrs. Arnold checked me with this reply. I have been set up as a mark, my Cecilia, let me fulfil the intention of my maker by showing a perfect resignation to his will. I hope my task is almost finished, and that he will soon permit me to return to the dust from which I came. Frederick Hildy had arrived from Ireland above a fortnight before, with Master Falkland, a beautiful child of about five years old. They were both lodged at Mrs. Arnold's house. She told me that Sir George Bidoff and Mr. Warner had set out together for Holland immediately after the receipt of the letter which informed them of Mrs. Falkland's being alive. My brother said Mrs. Arnold thought it necessary himself to be the bearer of news so fatal in its import to his friend. He hoped besides he should be able to persuade him to return and stand his trial for having killed Major Smith, as there is no doubt of his being acquitted, all Mr. Bond's family being now convinced from Mrs. Falkland's own confession that there was nothing premeditated in his fatal event, and that what Mr. Falkland did was in defence of his own life. I have writ, continued she, to Mr. Falkland to endeavour to console him under our mutual misfortune. My request, she showed me a copy of this letter wherein she assured him she would take the tenderest care of his son till the child could be delivered safe into his hands, and conjured him for that child's sake to be careful of his own interest and preservation, adding that as their ill-fated marriage was an absolute secret to every one but the persons immediately concerned, she hoped he would not suffer the thoughts of it to break in upon his future quiet, and concluded with beseeching him to forget her as they were never more to meet. This was the substance of what she wrote. There were no murmurings at her fate, no womanish complainings mixed with the tender yet noble sentiments of her heart. She endeavoured to conceal her own anguish under the mask of contentment, that Mr. Falkland might the better support this final destruction of all his hopes. I asked her whether she had heard since from Mr. Falkland. She told me she had as yet received no answer from him to this letter, but that she had heard severally from Sir George and Mr. Warner, who both informed her, that Mr. Falkland, after his first transports of surprise and grief were over, at receiving this new and unexpected blow, had grown more calm and seemed inclined to return with them to England. Sir George added in the last letter she had from him, that they only waited till Mr. Warner had accomplished the business that he had to do in Holland, and hoped before a fortnight was at an end to return home, and to have the pleasure of conducting Mr. Falkland back. It is ten days continued Mrs. Arnold since I received this account, and I flatter myself that they may be now on their way homeward. Mrs. Arnold said that she waited but for Sir George's return in order to deliver Master Falkland into his hands, and that she then meant to retire into the country with her two children and Patty, the faithful companion and partner of her grief. Lady Sarah Bidolf, who would gladly have gone with Sir George to Holland, had been persuaded by him to stay behind, in order to bear his sister company in her affliction, and Mrs. Arnold said she had dedicated much of her time to that friendly purpose. Her ladyship came to pay her a visit while I was there. I had never seen Lady Sarah before, and we were introduced to each other. I took my leave of Mrs. Arnold and promised to see her again the next day. In the morning, as I was preparing to go to her, I received a note from Lady Sarah Bidolf, earnestly requesting the favour of seeing me at her house, in St. James Square, before I went to Mrs. Arnold. I obeyed this unexpected summons and immediately waited on her. I took the liberty, madam, said she, of desiring to see you here this morning at Sir George's request. He arrived late last night and brings most melancholy news from Holland. Sir George entered the room while she spoke. After the first greetings of friends long-parted were over, I am afraid to ask Sir George, said I. Yet I am impatient to learn something of Mr. Falkland. Your lady has terribly alarmed me. Mr. Falkland is not returned. I dare not inquire the reason. Tears instantly sprang into Sir George's eyes. He returns no more, said he. His remains are soon to be conveyed to England, to be laid with his ancestors. Ah, Sir! cried I, what will poor Mrs. Arnold say to this fresh misfortune? It was on that account, madam, he replied, that we now requested to speak with you, before you saw my sister. You, who are her bosom friend, can more tenderly disclose this melancholy event than anyone. I have not the courage to see her. We must beg of you, dear madam, to prepare the unhappy Sydney for the news. I asked him the manner of Mr. Falkland's death. I cannot positively say, answered Sir George, but much I fear he precipitated his own fate. Mr. Warner or I constantly stayed with him, from the time we disclosed the fatal account we brought concerning Mrs. Falkland. Being as we did the violence of his temper, we were apprehensive of sudden and dreadful consequences. But he deceived us both, for after the first starts of passion were over, which though they shocked, did not alarm us, as we expected them. He assumed a calm resignation to his fate, and talked with such a rational composure of the strange circumstances of this incident, that we began to entertain hopes that the efforts of his reason, joined to our constant endeavours to soothe and console him, would in time so far succeed, as though we never expected to see him restored to a tranquil state of mind, we yet flattered ourselves he would submit to life upon such terms as providence, thought fit to impose on him. I was with him, proceeded Sir George, when he received a letter from my sister. His hands shook so on perceiving by the superscription, that it came from her, that he let the letter drop. Read it for me, Bidolf, said he, and tell me how it fares with Mrs. Arnold. I instantly complied with his request. I found by the date of the letter, that it had been delayed much longer than it ought to have been, which I immediately observed to him, as he had often expressed his uneasiness at not hearing from my sister. Mrs. Arnold as well, said I, giving him the letter. Read what she says, and let her teach you fortitude. He withdrew to a window to peruse it. After he had read it, I admire your sister's stoicism, said he, stepping back to his chair. This is true philosophy. Seeing his finger on the letter, which he still held in his hand, her heroic soul is still unmoved, and above the reach of adversity, happy Mrs. Arnold, what a vain fool was I to think that such a mind as hers could be subdued. He paused and seemed for a while buried in thought. Then putting the letter up in his pocket, he began to discourse on some other topic. He passed the evening together, continued Sir George, and though Falkland was far from being cheerful, I thought he appeared more tranquil than he had done since my arrival. I talked to him of his returning to England with me. He said with a smile, I think I ought to go, if it were for no other reason, but that I might have my dust mingled with that of my forefathers, and this office bid off I expected from you, if you should outlive me. I laughed at him and said I thought he had a much more material reason that pressed his return. Your estate, said I, is unsettled, and if you were to die abroad in the predicament in which you now stand, what is to become of your son? I have already done for my son, said he, all that I thought injustice was in my power to do. I have long ago settled my personal fortune on him, that in case my next heirs should on account of the illegitimacy of his birth claim the family estate, he may have a handsome support without it. And indeed I never wished to debar my lawful heirs in favour of this child, though I love him tenderly, and they are worthless people whom I despise, and with whom I never had any intercourse. I replied, if that were so, as the manner of the child's birth was a secret, I wished he might, undisturbed, inherit his father's fortune, when he should come to pay the last debt to nature. He answered, where such a vast property was at stake, there would not be people wanting, whose interests would engage them to discover the secret, and he doubted not, but the irregularity of his wife's conduct had already occasioned inquiries to be made. Supposing, said I, you had had another son by Mrs. Falkland since your marriage, as you could have no objection to the bequeathing your fortune to him, would it not have appeared strange in the eyes of the world that you disinherit your eldest son? It might have appeared so, said he, but I certainly should have done it, and for that reason, as I have no child but him, I have made such a disposition of my fortune as I now tell you. If I live, I may increase my son's patrimony. If not, he must be contented with that which I have bequeathed to him, and let my kindred scramble for the rest. We stayed together till it was late. He discoursed on a variety of subjects, but mentioned not my sister's name during the whole time. I thought I left him well, and his mind tolerably composed. We were to set out on our return in six days, but an account was brought to me in the morning that Mr. Falkland was found dead in his bed. There were no symptoms discovered on the body that could let us into the occasion of his death, but as my own fears suggested too much, I chose not to be particular in my inquiries, wishing rather that his fatal story should be buried in silence. Mr. Warner found that his affairs were likely to delay him longer than the time proposed, and as I had nothing farther to detain me in Holland, I set out the day after my unfortunate friend's death, leaving to Mr. Warner the care of conveying his remains to England, immediately to the desire he had expressed, which I now considered as his last injunction laid on me. Thus proceeded Sir George by a series of fatal events, each of which was occasioned by motives in themselves laudable, as one of the bravest and most noble-minded men on earth being cut off in the prime of his youth. O Falkland, why did you suffer that gallant spirit to be vanquished? Sir George's emotions topped his father's speech. I was too much affected to say anything to him, but took a hasty leave of Lady Sarah in order to go to Mrs. Arnold. As soon as I entered my friend's room, Cecilia said she, if your countenance be as faithful and interpreter of your mind as it used to be, you have something disastrous to relate. You may say anything, misfortune and I have been so familiar, I shall not shrink at its approach. Sir George is returned, I replied. You will see him to-day. Is he come alone? she asked. Alone, I replied. You but repeat my words, Cecilia, without adding anything from yourself. Shall I interpret the meaning of that mournful echo? Mr. Falkland no longer lives. I was silent. Oh, I knew him too well, said she, raising her voice with energy, to think he would survive this last blow. His death was natural, said I, for anything that appeared to the contrary. God be praised for that, cried Mrs. Arnold, if so I am satisfied that he is at peace. She then inquired after Mr. Warner and her brother, without making any father mention of Mr. Falkland. Whilst we were in discourse, Master Falkland ran into the room. He had been at play with the two little Miss Arnold's who were in pursuit of him, and he flew to Mrs. Arnold to hide him. She folded him tenderly in her arms, then turning to me. Look at this boy, said she. He is the perfect image of his father. When am I to go to my papa? cried the child as he hung round her neck. This innocent, unexpected demand quite vanquished Mrs. Arnold's fortitude. She set him down without being able to answer his question. Then said, excuse me, my Cecilia, I would wish to be alone for to-day. It was not yet a season to administer consolation, and I withdrew. She stayed in London but two days after this, when, as she had before resolved, she retired to an estate in Buckinghamshire, which her kinsmen had purchased and settled on her for ever. With her brother's consent she took Master Falkland with her, and prevailed on Mr. Price to accompany her into the country, to whom she committed the care of the child's education. Mr. Warner, whom she had acquainted by letter with her intention, approved at the step she had taken. He returned to England in about three weeks after her departure from her house in town, which she had left for his reception, just as he had fitted it up for her. Before I accompany Mrs. Arnold into her solitude, I shall just briefly mention some other persons who were connected with her story. The relations of Mr. Falkland, as he had foreseen, claimed his estate, and at length obtained it, the illegitimacy of the child being proved. The wretched Mrs. Falkland, abandoned and despised, returned to England, but as she was there hated and shunned by everyone, she remained in obscurity for a few years, and then died, unpitted and unlamented. I now return to Mrs. Arnold, who settled in her quiet retreat in the country, it might be hoped would have passed the remainder of her days undisturbed by any new calamity. The only source of true heroism of soul, religion, had all along supported and prevented her from sinking under the most trying afflictions. Many and bitter were the sufferings she had already endured, but she was, to use her own words, set up as a mark, and the deep afflictions which still pursued her and clouded even her latter days with misfortunes, may serve to show that it is not here that true virtue is to look for its reward. I saw her at a time when this reflection, as it had been her chief, so was it her last and only consolation. Just as she was of an admirable understanding and an enlarged mind, in the deepest solitude she had always resources of entertainment within herself. Her natural disposition, ever sweet and complying, was improved by her sufferings into a patient's very rare in woman, and a resignation imbibed at first from a rigid education was heightened by religion into an almost saintlike meekness and humility. I shall pass over the first ten years of her retirement, in which nothing material happened but the marriage of the amiable Patty Main to a gentleman of a large estate, and the death of her worthy kinsman, Mr. Warner, who bequeathed her his whole fortune. Miss Arnold, her eldest daughter, was now something more than fifteen, and fulfilled the promise her childhood gave of her being a perfect beauty. Miss Cecilia was about a year younger, and though not as handsome as her sister, was accounted one of the finest young ladies of her time. With what delight have I seen this excellent mother, while these two charming young creatures were all attention, relate to them the extraordinary and affecting incidents of her life. This said she I do not as a murmurer at my fate, nor to move your pity at my misfortunes, but to teach you, by my example, that there is no situation in life exempt from trouble. It found me, under the tender care of the best of parents, it pursued me into my husband's house. In my virgin state, when I was a wife, and in my widowhood, I was equally persecuted. Poverty I once thought would have exempted me from every ill, but what its own hand inflicted, and had it remained my companion, the bitterest misfortune of my life would have been prevented, for if wealth had not accompanied my hand, the world would not have persuaded me to yield it to Mr. Falkland. Do not therefore pride yourselves on the great fortunes you are likely to possess. I have received no other satisfaction in mine, than what arose from the benefits I have conferred on others. By such lessons as these did this tender parent endeavour to fortify their young minds against the vicissitudes of fortune, and to teach them not to place their confidence in riches. She dwelt so often upon this theme, that she seemed to have a presentiment of those evils which were now ready to pour, like a torrent upon her. Gracious heaven, how inscrutable are thy ways! Her affluent fortune, the very circumstance which seemed to promise her, in the eve of life, some compensation for the miseries she had endured in her early days, now proved the source of new and dreadful calamities to her, which, by involving the unhappy daughters of an unhappy mother, in scenes of the most exquisite distress, cut off from her even the last resource of hope in life, and rendered the close of her history still more. Note, here the lady's narrative breaks off, and the editor not having it in his power after the most diligent inquiry to recover any more of the manuscript is, to his great mortification, compelled to offer this fragment. End of section 45. End of Memoirs of Miss Sydney Bidoff by Francis Sheridan. Book read by Rachel Linton in Bristol, UK, August 2010.