CHAPTER XXL

MR. BELMONT'S NARRATIVE.

Time, that wears out the trace of deepest anguish,
As the sea smooths the prints made on the sand,
Hast past o'er thee in vain.

TRAGEDY OF DOUGLAS.

"TO paint our parting, my dear Maria, would be painful to remembrance, and making too free with the feelings of our worthy friends: suffice it to say, that when the chaise I was in reached my uncle's, I was so lost in sorrow, as scarcely to bid him farewel. As for him, he bade me adieu with much seeming affection, and repeated many promises of protection to you, and the little one we expected. Two years,' said he, will be the

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utmost limits of your stay-Had you not married till that time, it had been better; but, as it is, depend on my friendship to the charge you leave behind." With many professions of this sort, we parted; and I set out for Portsmouth, where the ship lay, with a firm reliance on his honor, and the friendship of his amiable lady, whom I left

had ever the highest confidence in-he, you say, brought the news of my death, as likewise my baggage-He must have been the agent of the diabolical schemes that were afterwards executed. On my arrival at Portsmouth, the captain came to receive me with great civility, and intreated my company to dinner, after which we were to go on board. I then, my love, wrote to you, and delivered the letter to Russel, with orders to put it in the post, and afterwards to take my things on board. In the evening, the captain and myself joined the ship; and, the wind being fair, we immediately set sail. Towards midnight, as I had not seen Russel, I desired the captain's servant to send him to me. The man presently returned, and told me no servant of mine had come on board, nor any baggage. I was vexed to find my judgment so erroneous; for I really thought Russel the honestest fellow in the world, and was now clear he had robbed me. How could the heart of man plan such a scheme! for those things, 'tis plain, were stolen for testimonials of my death. The captain supplied all my wants in the passage; for I had nothing but what I had on. In fine, we arrived safe at Bengal:-you know, I spent many of my boyish days there ;-my former acquaintances flocked to see me, and an old gentleman, a friend of my father's, insisted on my taking up my habitation with him. My trifling fortune I

recovered without trouble; and I counted the hours with impatience, till the time should arrive for my return. In the interim, a ship arrived from England. A letter was brought me-it was my uncle's hand; the seal was black.—A trembling seized me-But how was my horror increased, when I perused the contents!-As I have ever carried it in my pocket-book, you shall hear it, and judge.

'MY DEAR NEPHEW.

I know not how to speak comfort to you, when to myself it is fruitless; or advise you to bear your sorrows like a man, when I feel myself unequal to the task. A fortnight since, I lost my dear and ever-valued Mrs. Rivers. Severe as this loss is, I would our calamities ended there. -How can I write what followed! Your gentle Maria could not bear the shock; but, after bringing into the world a dead daughter,-expired, three days after her muchloved friend. Dear to each other in life, I separated them not in death, but had them placed together in our family vault. Were I less affected myself, I should attempt to speak consolation - but 'tis impossible!—the gust of sorrow must have way-and time only can reconcile us to our loss. Might I advise you-remain some time longer in India, or make the tour of Europe: it may divert a melancholy, which an immediate return to England can only augment, and which would be fruitless to those who, by the time you receive this, must have been dead almost a year.

Mrs. Rivers bequeathed me her estate; which, you know, was in her own power; incumbering it by bearing the name of Belmont, which you must also use. I cannot

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say I am fond of the change; but the fortune is too considerable to be relinquished for a name; and, as I have expectancy of a title, the alteration will not be material.

'I have nothing to add, but to conjure you to bear your misfortune with fortitude- to take the tour I advised; endeavour to regain your tranquillity, and you will be a welcome visitant to

'C. BELMONT.'

"The latter part of this letter I did not read till two months after I received it; for I no sooner reached the account of Maria's death, than, as struck with lightning, I fell senseless. My generous host had me conveyed to bed, and bled; but, in spite of all his care, I was seized with a violent fever, accompanied by so strong a deli rium, that, had I not been constantly watched, I had certainly put an end to my existence. In this state I remained for six weeks; at which time the fever left me, but so emaciated with grief and sickness, that for more than two months I was unable to leave my room. I was fully determined to return to England, as soon as I should regain strength to go on board of ship; but this design was rendered abortive by my friend and host, Mr. Davis, being struck with a fever, which I sincerely believe he caught by his close attendance on me, during which he continually intreated me, by the memory of my father, not to quit him. The adjuration was too solemn to he refused, had I not been bound to him by ties

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of gratitude and affection; which was really the case. It was six months before he completely regained his health; and when, at the expirațion of that time, I again mentioned my voyage, he dissuaded me from it by every argument in his power. Your uncle wishes you,' said he, to recover your tranquillity before you return; which at present is so far from being the case, that you seem to have contracted a settled gloom, Will a visit to your native land remove it? NoI fear rather increase it. Believe me, I have had losses great as yours. In the early part of my life,' continued he, I was in the mercantile line, blessed with an amiable wife and son. When he

was about fifteen, I met with some losses, so severe that bankruptcy was the consequence. To complete my misfortunes-before my affairs were settled, I lost my boy. These joint calamitics were too much for my gentle partner to bear, and she sunk under the weight of her sorrows. Driven to despair, I went into the army, hoping some friendly sword would join me to those for whose sake I hated life; but the peace soon after obliged me to return to England, where I had the offer of a very lucrative place in the Indies. I immediately accepted it: nor do I ever intend to revisit my native land, till I am incapable of sorrow: -then would I wish my bones to be taken to rest with those of my wife and son. Then remain