CHAPTER XL

“Quelque rare que soit le veritable amour, il Test encore moins que la veritable amitie.” — Rochefoucauld[^1]

HOPE LESLIE MET Mr. Fletcher at the threshold of the door. He was sallying forth with hasty steps and disordered looks. He started at the sight of her, and then clasping her in his arms, exclaimed, “My child! my child! my precious child!”

At the sound of his voice the whole family rushed from the parlour. “Praised be the Lord for thy deliverance, Hope Leslie,” cried Governor Winthrop, clasping his hands with astonishment. Mrs. Grafton gave vent to her feelings in hysterical sobbings, and inarticulate murmurs of joy. Madam Winthrop said, — “I thought it was impossible — I told you the Lord would be better to you than your fears:” and Esther Downing embraced her friend with deep emotion, whispering as she did so, “the Lord is ever better to us than our fears, or our deservings.”

It was obvious to our heroine, that all this excitement and overflow - ing of tenderness could not be occasioned merely by her unseasonable absence, and she begged to know what had caused so much alarm.

The Governor was beginning, in his official manner, a formal state- ment, when, as if the agitations of this eventful evening were never to end, the explosion of Chaddock’s vessel broke in upon their returning tran- quillity, and spread a panic through the town of Boston.

The occurrence of the accident, at this particular moment, was fortunate for Magawisca, as it prevented a premature discover)- of her escape; a discovery by which the Governor would have felt himself obliged to take measures for her recapture, that might then have proved effectual. The explosion of course withdrew his attention from all other subjects, and both he and Mr. Fletcher went out to ascertain whence it had pro- ceeded, and what ill consequences had ensued.

In the mean time, Hope learned the following particulars from the ladies. The family had retired to bed at the accustomed time, and about half an hour before her return, were alarmed by a violent knocking at the outer door. The servant first awakened let in a stranger, who demanded an immediate audience of the Governor, concerning matters of life and death. The stranger proved to be Antonio, and his communication, the conspir- acy with which our readers are well acquainted, or rather, as much of it as had fallen within the knowledge of the subordinate agents. Antonio de- clared, that having within the harbour of Boston been favoured with an extraordinary visitation from his tutelar saint, who had vouchsafed to warn him against his sinful comrades, he had determined from the first, that he would, if possible, prevent the wicked designs of the conspirators; and for that purpose, had solicited to be among the number who were sent on shore, intending to give notice to the Governor, in time for him to counteract the wicked project: he averred that after quitting the boat, he had heard the screams of the unhappy girl, when she was seized by the sailors; he had been spurred to all possible haste, but unhappily, ignorant of the town, he had strayed out of his way in coming from the cove, and finally, had found it almost impossible to rouse any of the sleeping inhabitants to guide him to the Governor’s.

Antonio knew the name of the author of this guilty project to be Sir Philip Gardiner, and its victim, Miss Leslie. These names were fearful hints to the Governor, and had prevented his listening with utter incredulity to the tale of the stranger. As the easiest means of obtaining its confirmation or refutation, a messenger was despatched to Sir Philip’s lodgings, who almost instantly returned with the intelligence, that he, his page, and baggage, had clandestinely disappeared during the evening. This was a frightful coincidence; and while the Governor’s orders that all the family should be called were executing, he made one further investigation.

He recollected the packet of letters which Rosa had given to her master during the trial. Sir Philip had laid them on the table, and forgetting them in the confusion that followed, the Governor had taken possession of them, intending to restore them at the hrst opportunity. He felt himself now, not only authorised to break the seals, but compelled to that discour- tesy. The letters were from a confidential correspondent, and proved, beyond a doubt, that Sir Philip had formerly been the protege, and ally of Thomas Morton, the old political enemy of the colony; that he was a Roman catholic; of course, that the Governor and his friends had been duped by his religious pretensions; and in short, that he was an utter profligate, who regarded neither the laws of God nor man.

And into the power of this wretch the friends of Miss Leslie were left, for a few agonizing moments, to believe she had fallen; and their joy at her appearance was, as may be believed, commensurate with their previous distress.

Some of the minor incidents of the evening now transpired. One of the servants reported that the young sailor had disappeared; and Mrs. Grafton suddenly recollected to have observed that Faith Leslie was not with her when she was awakened, a circumstance she had overlooked in her subsequent agitation. By a single clew an intricate maze mav be threaded. Madam Winthrop now recalled Faith Leslie’s emotion at the first sound of the sailor’s voice, and the ladies soon arrived at the right conclu- sion, that he was in reality Oneco, and that they had effected their escape together. Jennet (if Jennet had survived to hear it, she never would have believed the tale,) the only actual sufferer, was the only one neither missed nor inquired for. Good Master Cradock was not forgotten; but his friends were satisfied with Miss Leslie’s assurances that he was safe, and would, probably, not return before the morning.

The final departure of her sister cost Hope many regrets and tears. But an inevitable event, of such a nature, cannot seriously disturb the happiness of life. There had been nothing in the intercourse of the sisters to excite Hope’s affections. Faith had been spiritless, woe-begone — a soulless body — and had repelled, with sullen indifference, all Hope’s efforts to win her love. Indeed, she looked upon the attentions of her English friends but as a continuation of the unjust force by which they had severed her from all she held dear. Her marriage, solemnized as it had been by prescribed Christian rites, would probably have been considered by her guardian, and his friends, as invalidated by her extreme youth, and the circumstances which had led to the union. But Hope took a more youthful, romantic, and, perhaps, natural view of the affair; and the suggestions of Magawisca, combining with the dictates of her own heart, produced the conclusion that this was a case where 'God had joined together, and man might not put asunder.’

All proper (though it may be not very vigorous) measures were taken by Governor Winthrop, on the following day, to discover the retreat of the fugitives; but the secret was faithfully kept while necessary to their security.

The return of his children, and, above all, of Magawisca, seemed to work miracles on their old father: his health and strength were renewed, and, for a while, he forgot, in the powerful influence of her presence, his wrongs and sorrows. He would not hazard the safety of his protector, and that of his own family, by lingering a single day in the vicinity of his enemies.

Before the dawn of the next morning, this little remnant of the Pequod race, a name at which, but a few years before, all within the bounds of the New-Lngland colonies — all, English and Indians, ‘grew pale,’ began their pilgrimage to the far western forests. That which remains untold of their story, is lost in the deep, voiceless obscurity of those unknown regions.

The terrors her friends had suffered, on account of our heroine, induced them to overlook every thing but the joy of her safety. She was permitted to retire with Esther to their own apartment, without any inquisition being made into the cause of her extraordinary absence. Even her friend, when they were alone together, made no allusion to it, and Hope rightly concluded that she was satisfied with her own conjectures as to its object.

Hope could scarcely refrain from indulging the natural frankness of her temper, by disclosing, unsolicited, the particulars of her successful enterprise; and she only checked the inclinations of her heart from the apprehension that Esther might deem it her duty to extend her knowledge to her uncle, and thus Magawisca might be again endangered. ‘She cer- tainly conjectures how it is,’ thought Hope, making her own mental comments on Esther’s forbearance; ‘and yet she does not indicate the least displeasure at my having combined with Everell to render the delightful service that her severe conscience would not allow her to perform.’ ‘She never spoke to me with more tenderness — how could I ever suspect her of jealousy, or distrust? — she is incapable of either — she is angelic — far, far more deserving of Everell than I am.’

At this last thought, a half stifled, but audible, sigh escaped her, and reached her friend’s ear. Their eyes met. A deep, scorching blush suffused Hope’s cheeks, brow, and neck. Esther’s face beamed with ineffable sweet- ness and serenity. She looked as a mortal can look only when the world and its temptations are trampled beneath the feet, and the eye is calmly, steadily, immovably fixed on heaven. She folded Hope in her arms, and pressed her fondly to her heart, but not a word, tear, or sigh escaped her. Her soul was composed to a profound stillness, incapable of being dis- turbed by her friend’s tears and sobs, the involuntary expression of her agitated, confused, and irrepressible feelings.

Hope turned away from Esther, and crept into her bed; feeling, like a condemned culprit, self-condemned. It seemed to her that a charm had been wrought on her; a sudden illumination had (lashed from her friend’s face into the most secret recesses of her heart, and exposed — this was her most distressful apprehension — to Esther’s eye, feelings whose existence, till thus revealed to another, (and the last person in the world to whom they should be revealed,) she had only, and reluctantly, acknowledged to herself.

Deeply mortified and humbled, she remained wakeful, weeping and lamenting this sudden exposure of emotions that she feared could never be explained or forgotten, long after her friend had encircled her in her arms, and fallen into a sweet and profound sleep.

We must leave the apartment of the generous and involuntary rivals, to repair to the parlour, where Governor Winthrop, after having ascer- tained that Chaddock’s vessel had been blown up by the explosion, was listening to Barnaby Tuttle’s relation of the transaction at the prison.

The simple jailer, on learning from Everell’s confessions how he had beem, cajoled, declined increasing his responsibilities by making the ex- change Everell proposed, but very readily acceded to his next proposition, namely, that he should be permitted to share the imprisonment of Cradock. On entering the dungeon, they found the good old man sleeping as soundly on Magawisca’s pallet, as if he were in his own apartment; and Everell rejoicing that he had suffered so little, in the good cause to which it had been necessary to make him accessory, and exulting in the success of his enterprise, took possession of his dark and miserable cell, with feelings that he would not have bartered for those of a conqueror mounting his triumphal car.

Bamaby had a natural feeling of vexation at having been outwitted by Hope Leslie’s stratagems; but it was a transient emotion, and not strong enough to check the habitual current of his gratitude and affection for her, nor did it at all enter into his relation of the facts to the Governor. On the contrary, his natural kind-heartedness rendered the statement favourable towards all parties.

He did not mention Magawisca’s name without a parenthesis, con- taining some commendation of her deportment in the prison. He spoke of Hope Leslie, as the “thoughtless child,” or, the “feeling young creature.” Master Cradock was, “the poor witless old gentleman;” and “for Mr. Everell, it was not within the bounds of human nature, in his peculiar case, not to feel as he did; and as to himself, he was but an old dotard, ill fitted to keep bars and bolts, when a child — the Lord and the Governor forgive her! — could guide him with a wisp of straw.”

Nothing was further from Barnaby Tuttle’s thoughts, than any en- deavour to blind or pervert a ruler’s judgment; but the Governor found something infectious in his artless humanity. Besides, he had one good, sufficient, and state reason for extenuating the offence of the young conspirators, and of this he made a broad canopy to shelter his secret and kind dispositions towards them. A messenger had that day arrived, from the chief of the Narragansetts, with the information that a war had broken out between Miantunnomoh and Uncas, and an earnest solicitation that the English would not interfere with their domestic quarrels.

To our ancestors, it appeared their melancholy policy to promote, rather than to allay these feuds among the tribes; and a war between these rival and powerful chieftains assured, while it lasted, the safety of the English settlements. It became, therefore, very important to avoid any act that might provoke the universal Indian sentiment against the English, and induce them to forgo their civil quarrel, and combine against the common enemy. This would be the probable effect of the condemnation of the Pequod girl, whose cause had been espoused by several of the tribes: still, on a further investigation of her case, the laws might require her condemnation — and the puritans held firmly to the principle, that good must be done, though evil ensue.

Governor Winthrop perceived that Magawisca’s escape relieved them from much and dangerous perplexity; and though Everell Fletcher’s interposition had been unlawful and indecorous, yet, as Providence had made him the instrument of certain good, he thought his offence might be pardoned by his associates in authority.

He dismissed Barnaby, with an order to appear before him with his prisoners, at six o’clock the following morning. At that hour he assembled together such of the magistrates and deputies as were in Boston, deeming it, as he said, proper to give them the earliest notice of the various im- portant circumstances that had occurred since the morning of the pre- ceding day.

He opened the meeting with a communication of the important intelligence received from the Narragansett chief; intimated the politic uses to which the wisdom of his brethren might apply it; then, after some general observations on the imperfection of human wisdom, disclosed at full the iniquitous character and conduct of Sir Philip Gardiner; lamented in particular, that he had been grievously deceived by that crafty son of Belial — and then dwelt on the wonderful interposition of Providence in behalf of Hope Leslie, which clearly intimated, as he said, and all his audi- tors acknowledged, that the young maiden’s life was precious in the sight of the Lord, and was preserved for some special purpose. He called their attention to the light thrown on the testimony of Sir Philip against the Indian prisoner by his real character — and last of all, he communicated the escape of Magawisca, and the means by which it had been accom- plished, with this comment simply, that it had pleased the Lord to bring about great good to the land by the rash act of two young persons, who seemed to have been wrought upon by feelings natural to youth; and the foolishness of an old man, whose original modicum of sense was greatly diminished by age, and excess of useless learning; for, he said, Master Cradock not only wrote Greek and Latin, and talked Hebrew like the Rev. Mr. Cotton, but he was skilled in Arabic, and the modem tongues.

The Governor then proceeded to give many and plausible reasons, with the detail of w hich it is not necessary' to weary' the patience of our readers, why this case, in the absence of a precise law, should be put under the government of mercy. His associates lent a favourable ear to these suggestions. Most of them considered the offence very much alleviated by the youth of the two principal parties, and the strong motives that actu- ated them. Some of the magistrates were warm friends of the elder Fletcher, and all of them might have been quickened in their decision, by the approach of the breakfast hour; for as modern philosophy has discovered, the mind and sensibilities are much under the dominion of these periodical returns of the hours of refection.

The conclusion of the whole matter was, that Miss Leslie and Master Cradock should receive a private admonition from the Governor, and a free pardon; and that Mr. Everell Fletcher should be restored to liberty, on condition that, at the next sitting of the court, he appeared in the pris- oner’s bar, to receive a public censure, and be admonished as to his future carriage. To this sentence Everell submitted at the proper time, with due humility, and a very becoming, and, as said the elders, edifying modesty.

Throughout the whole affair, Governor Winthrop manifested those dispositions to clemency, which were so beautifully illustrated by one of the last circumstances of his life, when being, as is reported of him, upon his death-bed, Mr. Dudley 2 pressed him to sign an order of banishment of an heterodox person, he refused, saying, — “/ have done too much of that work already. ”

Everell and Master Cradock, who had awaited in an adjoining apart- ment the result of these deliberations, were now informed of the merci- ful decision of their judges, and summoned to take their places at the breakfast-table. While all this business was transpiring, Hope Leslie, wea- ried by the fatigues, agitations, and protracted vigil of the preceding night, was sleeping most profoundly. She awoke with a confused sense of her last anxious waking thoughts, and naturally turned to look for Esther, but Esther had already risen. This excited no surprise, for it must be confessed that our heroine was often anticipated in early-rising, as in other severe duties, by her friend. Admonished by a broad sun-beam that streamed aslant her apartment, that she had already trespassed on the family break- fast hour, she rose, and despatched her toilet duties. Her mind was still intent on Esther, and suddenly she missed some familiar objects: Esther’s morocco dressing-case and Bible, that always laid at hand on the dressing table. Hope was at that moment adjusting her hair; she dropped her comb — cast a hasty survey around the room. Esther’s trunks, bandboxes, every article belonging to her had disappeared. “What could this mean?” Some solution of the mystery might have dawned from the recollections of the preceding night, but impatient for a full explanation, she seized her whistle, opened the door, and blew for Jennet, till its shrill notes had penetrated every recess of the house. But no Jennet appeared; and without waiting to adjust her hair, which she had left in what is called disorder, but according to the natural and beautiful order of nature, and with a flushed cheek and beating heart she hastily descended to the parlor, and dispensing with the customary morning salutations, eagerly demanded — “Where is Esther?”

The family were all assembled at the breakfast-table. Her sudden appearance produced an apparent sensation — every eye turned towards her. Mrs. Grafton would have impulsively answered her question, but she was prevented by an intimation from Madam Winthrop. EverelPs eye, on seeing her, flashed a bright intelligent glance, but at her interrogators' it fell, and then turned on Madam Winthrop inquiringly, indicating that he now, for the first time, perceived that there was something extraordinary in the absence of her niece.

Hope still stood with the door half open, her emotions in no degree tranquillized by the reception of her inquiry.

Governor Winthrop turned to her with his usual ceremony.

“Good morning, Miss Hope Leslie — be good enough to close the door — The wind is easterly this morning. You are somewhat tardy, but we know' you have abundant reason; take your seat, my child — apologies are unnecessary .”

Madam Winthrop beckoned to Hope to take a chair next to her, and Hope moved to the table mechanically, feeling as if she had been paralyzed by some gorgon influence. Her question was not even adverted to — no allusion was made to Esther. Hope observed that Madam Winthrop’s eyes were red with weeping, and she also observed that in offering the little civilities of the table, she addressed her in a voice of unusual kindness.

She dared not look again at Everell, whose unexpected release from confinement would, at any other time, have fully occupied her thoughts; and her perplexity was rather increased by seeing her guardian's eyes repeatedly fill with tears while they rested on her with even more than their usual fondness.

Impatient, and embarrassed as she was, it seemed to her the breakfast would never end; and she was in despair when her aunt asked for her third, and her fourth cup of chocolate, and when the dismissal of the table awaited old Cradock’s discussion of a replenished plate of fish, from which he painfully and patiently abstracted the bones. But all finite operations have their period — the breakfast did end, the company rose, and all left the parlour, one after another, save the two Fletchers, Madam Winthrop, and our heroine.

Hope would have followed her aunt — any further delay seemed insupportable, but Madam Winthrop took her hand, and detained her. “Stay, my young friend,” she said, “I have an important communication which could not be suitably made till this moment.” She took a sealed letter from her pocket. “Nay, Hope Leslie, grow not so suddenly pale, no blame is attached to thee — nor to thee, Mr. Everell Fletcher, who art even more deeply concerned in this matter. Both the Governor and myself have duly weighed all the circumstances, and have most heartily approved of that which she hath done, who near and dear as she is to us in the flesh, is still nearer and dearer by those precious gifts and graces that do so far exalt her (I would offend none present,) above all other maidens. Truly, ‘if many do virtuously,’ Esther, ‘excelleth them all.’”

Hope was obliged to lean against the wall for support. The elder Fletcher looked earnestly at Madam Winthrop, as if he would have said — “for Heaven’s sake do not protract this scene.” Perhaps she understood his glance — perhaps she took counsel from her own womanly feelings. “This letter, my young friends,” she said, “is addressed to you both, and it was my niece’s request that you should read it at the same time.”

Madam Winthrop kindly withdrew. Everell broke the seal, and both he and Hope, complying faithfully with Miss Downing’s injunction, read together, to the very last word, the letter that follows:

“To my dear and kind friends, Everell Fletcher and Hope Leslie.

“When you read these lines, the only bar to your earthly happiness will be removed. With the advice and consent of my honoured uncle and aunt, I have taken passage in the “Lion,” which, as you know, is on the eve of sailing for London. With God’s blessing on my present purposes, I shall remain there, with my father, till he has closed his affairs in the old world, and then come hither again.

“Do not think, my dear friends, I am fleeing away, because, as matters stand between us, I cannot abide to stay here. For your sakes, for I would not give you needless pain, 1 go for a little while. For myself, I have contentment of mind. It hath pleased God to give me glimpses of Christian happiness, the foundations of which are not laid on the earth, and therefore cannot be removed or jostled by any of the cross accidents of life.

“There have been some notable errors in the past. We have all erred, and I most of all. My error hath been exceeding humbling to the pride of woman; yours, Hope Leslie, was of the nature of your disposition — rash and generous; and you, Everell, (1 speak it not reproachfully, but as being truth-bound,) have not dealt with gospel sincerity. 1 appeal to thine own heart — would it not have been better, as well as kinder, to have said, “Esther, I do not love thee,” than to have permitted me to follow my silly imaginings, and therebv have sacrificed my happiness for this world— and thine — and Hope Leslie’s? — for I think, and am sure, you never did me the wrong to believe I would knowingly have taken thy hand without thv affections — all of them (at least such measure as may be given to an earthly friend,) being poor and weak enough to answer to the many calls of life.

“It is fitting, that, having been guided to a safe harbour by the good providence of God, we should look back — not reproach- fully — God forbid — but with gratitude and humility, on the dark and crooked passages through which we have passed. Neither our virtue — I speak it humbly — nor our happiness, have been wrecked. Ye will in no wise wonder that I speak thus assuredly of your happi- ness, but, resting your eye on the past, you might justly deem that, for myself, I have fallen into the ‘foolishness of boasting’ — not so. In another strength than mine own, I have overcome, and am of good cheer, and well assured that, as the world hath not given me mv joy, the world cannot take it away.

“For the rest, I shall ever rejoice that mv affections settled on one worthy of them — one for whom 1 shall hereafter feel a sister’s love, and one who will not withhold a brother’s kindness. And to thee, my loving — my own sweet and precious Hope Leslie — I resign him. And may He, who, by his signal providence, hath so wonderfully restored in you the sundered affections of your parents, knitting, even from your childish years, your hearts together in love — may He make you his own dear and faithful children in the Lord.

“Thus — hoping for your immediate union, and worldly well- being — ever prays your true and devoted friend,

“ESTHER DOWNING.”

Hope Leslie’s tears fell, like rain drops, on her friend’s letter; and when she had finished it, she turned and clasped her arms around her guardian’s neck, and hid her face on his bosom. Feelings for which words are too poor an expression, kept all parties for some time silent. To the elder Fletcher it was a moment of happiness that requited years of suffer- ing. He gave Hope’s hand to Everell: “Sainted mothers!” he said, raising his full eyes to heaven, “look down on your children, and bless them!” And, truly, celestial spirits might look with complacency, from their bright spheres, on the pure and perfect love that united these youthful beings.

Mr. Fletcher withdrew, and we, following his example, must permit the curtain to fall on this scene, as we hold it a profane intrusion for any ear to listen to the first confessions of reciprocated, happy love.

EVENTS El A VE already meted ‘fit retribution’ to most of the parties who have figured in our long story. A few particulars remain.

There was one man of Chaddock’s crew left alive to tell the tale; the same whose footsteps, it may be recollected, Sir Philip heard, and on whom he had vainly called for assistance. This man was lingering to observe the principal actors in the tragedy, when the explosion took place, and, with the rest, was blown into the air; but he escaped with his life, gained the boat, and came, the next day, safely to the shore, where he related all he knew, to the great relief of the curiosity of the good people of Boston.

Strict search was, by the Governor’s order, made for the bodies of the unhappy wretches who had been so suddenly sent to their doom.

Jennet’s was one of the first found: the shawl that had been bound over her head still remained, the knot which defied Sir Philip’s skill having also resisted the lashing of the waves. When this screen was removed, and the body identified, the mystery of her disappearance was at once ex- plained. “Death wipes out all scores.” And even Jennet, dead, was wrapped in the mantle of charity; but all who had known her living, mentally confessed that Death could not have been more lenient in selecting a substitute for the precious life he had menaced.

Poor Rosa’s remains were not

“Left to float upon their wat’rv bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind.”

Her youth, her wrongs and sufferings, combined with the pleadings of Hope Leslie, obtained for her the rites of a separate and solemn burial. Tears, of humility and pity, were shed over her grave; a fit tribute, from virtuous and tender woman, to a fallen, unhappy sister.

All the bodies of the sufferers were finally recovered, except that of Sir Philip Gardiner; and the inference of our pious forefathers, that Satan had seized upon that as his lawful spoil, may not be deemed, bv their skeptical descendants, very unnatural.

We leave it to that large, and most indulgent class of our readers, the misses in their teens, to adjust, according to their own fancy, the cere- monial of our heroine’s wedding, w r hich took place in due time, to the jov of her immediate friends, and the entire approbation of all the inhabitants of Boston, who, in those early times, manifested a friendly interest in individual concerns, which is said to characterise them to the present day.

The elder Fletcher remained with his children, and permitted him- self to enjoy, to the full, the happiness which, it was plain, Providence had prepared for him. The close of his life was as the clear shining forth of the sun after a stormy and troubled day.

Dame Grafton evinced some mortification at the discovery- of the fallibility of her judgment in relation to Sir Philip Gardiner; but she soon dubbed him Sir Janus; a name that implied he had two faces, and her sagacity was not at fault if she judged by the one presented to her. Her trifling vexation was soon forgotten in her participation in her niece’s felicity, and in her busy preparations for the wedding; and after that event, she was made so happy by the dutiful care of Hope and Everell, that she ceased to regret Old England, till, falling into her dotage, her entreaties, combining with some other motives, induced them to visit their mother country, where the old lady died, and was buried in the tomb of the Leslies, the church burial service being performed by the bishop of Lon- don. Her unconsciousness of this poetic justice must be regretted by all who respect innocent prejudices.

We hope that class of our readers, above alluded to, will not be shocked at our heroine’s installing Master Cradock as a life-member of her domestic establishment. We are sure their kind hearts would reconcile them to this measure if they could know with what fidelity, and sweet- ness, and joy to the good man, she performed the promise she gave in Magawisca’s prison, “that she would be a child to his old age.” If they are still discontented with the arrangement, let them perform an action of equal kindness, and they will learn from experience that our heroine had her reward.

Digby never ceased, after the event had verified them, to pride himself on his own presentiments, and his wife’s dreams. A friendship between him, and Everell and Hope subsisted through their lives, and descended, a precious legacy, through many generations of their descen- dants, fortified by favours, and gratitude, and reciprocal affection.

Barnaby Tuttle, and his timely compliance with her wishes, were not forgotten by our heroine. Persuaded by her advice, and enabled by an annual stipend from her to do so, he retired from his solitary post of jailer, and passed his old age comfortably with his daughter Ruth, versifying psalms, and playing with the little Tuttles.

After the passage of two or three years, Miss Downing returned to New-England, and renewed her intercourse with Everell and Hope, with- out any other emotions, on either side, than those which belong to warm and tender friendship. Her personal loveliness, Christian graces, and the high rank she held in the colony, rendered her an object of very general attraction.

Her hand was often and eagerly sought, but she appears never to have felt a second engrossing attachment. The current of her purposes and affections had set another way. She illustrated a truth, which, if more generally received by her sex, might save a vast deal of misery: that marriage is not essential to the contentment, the dignity, or the happiness of woman. Indeed, those who saw on how wide a sphere her kindness shone, how many were made better and happier by her disinterested devotion, might have rejoiced that she did not

“Give to a party what was meant for mankind.”