CHAPTER XIV.

A LETTER.A SEPARATION.

-Come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought,
Of all his works, creative Bounty burns

With warmest beam, and, on your open front
C And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat
Inviting modest want!

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

LOUISA ceased; and received the thanks of Mrs. Rivers. "But you cannot still suppose this wicked man to be your father?" said she. “ "Some fatal truth lurks under this veil of secresy: but degrade not nature so far, as to think it produces so shocking a monster.. It is more probable you are really an orphan, that should possess more than he likes to part with; for what Masters said might only be to prevent questions."

"I should be entirely of your opinion," returned Louisa, "but the visible horror he underwent, at the bare mention of relationship, half confirmed the dreadful surmise." "Dreadful indeed," replied the lady: "but banish the idea: you shall write to Lady Melville, and inform her of your misfortunes; she may assist you in making

Lord Danford solve this mystery. In the mean time, secure in my cottage, you shall

possess all the affection I have to bestow."-" Of how much good is seeming ill productive!-Could I have believed I should bless the hour I wandered, almost perishing, on the moor!" said Louisa; that is the case; for the troubles of the search are lost, in the treasure I have found."

"yet

Louisa, by the advice of her friend, wrote to Lady Melville, addressed to her London residence, an account of what had happened to her since she quitted the convent. At the same time, she informed her, she was now entirely out of the Earl's power. "And could I," said she, remove the melancholy that preys on my benefactress, and pierce the veil of obscurity that surrounds myself, I were perfectly happy."

Though Louisa mentioned her friend, it was not by name; as that lady desired her to omit it, as she would have no trace by which Mr. Rivers, if he yet lived, might know she existed.

"If my Henry's fortune," said she, "be recoverable, or Mrs. Rivers's partiality should have remembered me in any bequest, he has the most right to it: content with what I have, I wish not to remind him of so unfortunate a creature, Another reason, my Louisa: Lady Melville, prompted by generosity, may come to fetch you hence; and company, except those whose misfortunes lay claim

to my humanity, rob me of a portion of time I would otherways employ."

The letter was dispatched by the old man who officiated as gardener, to put in the post at Kendal; at which place the answer was to be left.

Six weeks passed without any return; but the seventh brought the following, from her friend Julia.

Spa.

"How much have I endured, my dear Louisa, by your long silence! Though relieved from suspense, how painfully do I read over what you have suffered !-and what blessings are due to the person you name your benefactress ! If the obligation can be repaid with wealth, we will not be ungrateful if only gratitude can cancel the debt, Louisa and her Julia will study through life to discharge it.

:

"You will, no doubt, wonder at our being at Spa: we attended my father here, two months since; and, at the receipt of yours, had the misfortune to have lost him eight days. Augustus joined us some time before his death; and the parent, whose severity we dreaded in his life, by his parting tenderness has given us lasting reason to lament. We shall be in England nearly as soon as this letter, and Lady Melville entreats you will favor her with your company; for which purpose she will send the chaise to Kendal to conduct you. And would the lady to whom you are so much obliged favor us likewise, the obligation would be double. She is melancholy ours is not the house of joy. Lady Melville shall sympathise with her; and her grateful Louisa and Julia will force her to give their young hearts a portion of sorrow, which, when divided, will be the easier. endured.

"As I once offended you by pleading the cause of a lover, I promise to offend no more; the reason I will inform you of when we meet: till when, believe me impatient.

"JULIA.

"P. S. As you have not sent a direction to your habitation, the chaise will be at the principal inn in Kendal on the first of March."

"I am extremely pleased with your amiable friend," said Mrs. Rivers; "yet a selfish thought almost rises, to wish you was entirely my own." "And, after such a wish, my dear Madam," returned Louisa, can I ever leave you, to whom I owe my preservation? No! Lady Melville is generous, and, when she is acquainted how happily I am situated, will not wish me pained by leaving it." "Nor will I, for so selfish a consideration, imprison you amongst those desolate hills. Believe me, my child, this journey will be productive of good. Lady Melville's partiality will seek into the secret of your birth; which divulged, may remove the cloud that hangs on modest merit, unaccompanied by wealth. If that should be the case, I do not bid you remember me; your goodness of heart needs not that caution. I know you will sometimes think of the cottage, and the bosom that feels for you almost maternal tenderness. As I own a parent fondness, the care of that character must not be wanting. Mary shall go to Kendal, and buy what is necessary to equip

you

the best we can.

Accompanied by her, you

shall meet your friends at the appointed time, to whose care she must resign you."

Louisa's thanks were better expressed in her eyes than by words. But as I make no doubt every one of my fair readers has experienced the heart-felt satisfaction of seeing eyes beam gratitude through tears, I shall not attempt to describe what can only be felt. But, in case any of those fair ones, to whom I appeal, should be unacquainted with the raptures of gratitude from a feeling mind, I conjure them to hasten to do a benevolent action. The sensation it leaves will spread a brighter glow on the complexion, than milk of roses or bloom of Circassia.

Mary performed her mistress's promise; and the next evening returned from Kendal, attended by the old man, bearing the materials for dress. As there did not happen to be either mantuamaker or milliner nearer than the above-mentioned town, the ladies were forced to officiate in those capacities themselves: indeed nature had decorated both so abundantly, as to make fashion needless; and the large mourning bonnet, half concealing the pensive features of Mrs. Rivers. or the undecorated straw hat, shading the blooming innocence of Louisa's, sat so becomingly, that pride or taste might have strove in vain to imitate them.