# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 16

CHAPTER XVI.
"Lo, at the couch, where infant beauty sleeps,
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps."
De Brooke had indeed retired, but not to rest, nor did sleep that night convey its wonted balm to his wearied soul and wounded spirit. Like years to his anguished recollection, the hours dragged heavily along their unaccustomed burden, unrelieved even by a momentary oblivion of his miserable situation; for though by fits and starts, as it were, by stolen glimpses into the land of forgetfulness, his eyelids closed on the gloom, it was only to see the form of the liberated Baronet with one hand grasping his golden spoils, appear to triumph in his escape, and with the other pointing in derision to his hopeless victim, insult his captivity, and brave his vengeance.
Awaking with a start, and recovering his consciousness, how inexplicable appeared the conduct of the Baronet! By the commission of so base an action to expose his life to the scaffold,—could it possibly be so? was it not some dream, some ​illusion of the sense? Alas! the dreadful reality returned with too strong conviction. But recently associates in the same prison, and now himself without a prospect of release, a prisoner of despair,—his cruel enemy had escaped alike the claims of his creditors and the calls of justice, carrying away with him every resource that he possessed, not essential only to his present exigencies, but also to the more important one, that of liquidating and lessening debts for which his person was held in durance.
Sometimes, losing sight of his own personal sufferings and indignation against the Baronet, he was led to accuse himself of inhumanity in not having, in the first instance, acceded to his demand; perhaps a sum of comparatively small amount might have satisfied him. Desperate indeed must have been his situation, tempting him to a deed fraught with ignominy and danger to himself, and ruin to his fellow-prisoner and friend.
Unsuspicious of any fresh cause for uneasiness, Mrs. De Brooke, awaking earlier than usual from the enjoyment of undisturbed repose of body and mind, was surprised to find her husband already risen. Unable to compose himself, he had stolen gently from her side, his eyes dim, and his ​countenance dejected. Struck by a change so marked, Mrs. De Brooke expressed surprise and alarm.
"Nothing but the effects of a sleepless night," answered he: "my head aches intolerably," raising his hand to his forehead; "but do not be uneasy, I shall be better presently."
Mrs. De Brooke's fears, however, were not to be so soon relieved; it was not common with him to pass a night such as he described. She hastened to rise, and to perform her usual morning's avocation, that of dressing her three children: ever with cheerfulness had she performed this necessary office; like sweet music to her ears, the soft sounds of her children's endearing prattle amply compensating for the care she lavished upon them.
But on the present occasion an anxiety oppressed her; that inexpressible charm was superseded by inquietude; not elicited only on her husband's account, but also on that of her youngest child. The languor affecting her seemed to forbode illness; she ceased to amuse by her infant sports, or to be amused by those of her brother and sister. Sensibly moved by the change in the interesting child, Mrs. De Brooke left nothing untried that might in any way assuage or lessen her indisposition. The morning advancing, and ​her efforts proving fruitless, lifting the innocent sufferer in her arms, she bore her into their common sleeping-room, laid her upon her own couch, and sitting beside her watched in silence the progress of each alarming symptom; the involuntary chill, quick breathing, and scarlet flush, gradually predominating over the healthful hues of blooming infancy.
After an interval thus passed, Mrs. De Brooke returned to her husband, urging the necessity of the immediate attendance of a physician.
"My dear", returned he, "your affection for the child leads you to magnify her illness. God forbid I should oppose you in a feeling so just as that by which you are influenced,—love to your off-spring; but, supposing even that she is under the influence of fever, it may be but temporary."
He paused to reflect awhile; in calling for medical aid, physician's fees, a long apothecary's bill, would be the natural and unavoidable result; the extent he dreaded, deprived as he was of every resource. Severe were the pangs which probed him upon perceiving his wife anxiously attending his decision.
"Let us wait until tomorrow", he continued; "drugs to a creature so young cannot but be ​pernicious, and perhaps serve but to aggravate the symptoms and render her illness more alarming."
Submitting to his better judgment, Mrs. De Brooke returned to resume her station by the side of her infant patient.
Nothing could have arisen more untimely, on more accounts than one, or have thrown a greater inconvenience upon them than this illness of their child. For confined as was De Brooke and his family for space, possessing but two small rooms, it was now necessary that their sleeping arrangements, at best incommodious, should be altered. In consequence the bed on which Mrs. De Brooke had hitherto placed her three children, was now destined to accommodate her husband. Finding himself better as the hour of repose arrived, he would not suffer the little Rosilia to be removed from the place she had occupied during the day; preferring to throw himself beside the other two children than to take her from the side of her mother. But for his greater ease, Mrs. De Brooke disposed of Oriana differently, placing her at the foot of her own couch. With this arrangement she was better enabled to lend her assistance to the little invalid. Sunk into a state which might resemble sleep, a state of languid inanition, there she lay alike ​unconscious of the alarm and disturbance she occasioned.
The reflections of De Brooke, as on the preceding night, fell upon the Baronet, and the fresh information gathered from Robert. The honest African, who, with his marked character of sobriety and civility had not found it difficult to insinuate himself with some of the jailers, had learnt, that early on the morning of the preceding day, previously to the wrong inflicted on his master by the Baronet, a gentlewoman of apparently some condition, but in deep distress, had visited him in his room; that having held a long conversation with him she departed, but soon returned with the proper securities for his enlargement, when they finally quitted the prison together. Such was the report derived from Robert, who, the next day, purposed extending his inquiries without the walls, amongst those who availed themselves of the privilege of the Rules.
Thus dubious and interrupted as were the subjects of De Brooke's thoughts, and equally so his slumbers, he frequently counted the lingering hours of darkness, whilst the little Aubrey lay by his side enjoying the sweet stillness of rest. Sometimes he beheld his wife, a pattern of maternal tenderness, devoted to her suffering child, rise, throw a ​shawl about her, and by the faint beams of a lamp, bending over the hearth-stone, fan the expiring embers, in order to warm some dilution to moisten the lips and assuage the thirst of the unconscious innocent.
During her intervals of watchfulness and fatigue, Mrs. De Brooke, whilst elevating her soul in prayer, sometimes fell into a short repose. So passed the night, and the morning came without any visible amendment in the health of the child.
Mrs. De Brooke again urged on her husband the necessity of sending for a physician.
"If it will give any satisfaction to your mind", replied he, "send for one by all means; but you, who have courage, resolution, and fortitude, who have been taught to bend, and will doubtless again bow to the will of the Supreme, let that not too much afflict you, which I think it necessary to prepare you for,—death sits already depicted on the countenance of our dear child!"
Mrs. De Brooke started; the opinion of her husband was unsuspected, and conveyed, though undesignedly, vehement affliction to her delicate mind, in which, notwithstanding the shock, while her sweet sufferer sustained the lamp of life, the light of hope remained unextinguished. Robert was dispatched for Dr. Beckford, but hastily ​returned, saying that the doctor, in his daily rounds to his patients, could not possibly reach the Bench until the lapse of several hours. In the meanwhile, to keep life from departing its frail tenement, Mrs. De Brooke administered a few drops of opium, which in a short time taking effect, the child dropped into a heavy and still slumber. Several hours had thus elapsed, when Dr. Beckford presented himself, and examining his young patient, pronounced her malady to be the typhus fever. He repeated his visits daily, and under his fostering care the little Rosilia began to revive, and show signs of convalescence.
Scarcely, however, had the fond parents time to exult, and be grateful for the mercy they had almost despaired of, than her brother was seized by the same complaint. Differing but little from the putrid or malignant fever, the disorder was highly contagious; and from what they then gathered, had already made great ravages in the interior of the prison, several having fallen victims, whilst others were taken in such a manner as to leave slender hopes of recovery.
The dreadful accounts they had just heard filled Mrs. De Brooke with the most terrifying presages: "What is to be done?" exclaimed she. Alas! too soon she discovered that all further precaution ​was unnecessary; the aching head, feverish hand, and quick pulse afforded but too evident proofs that her husband also had caught the infection.
De Brooke had found himself labouring under a depression of body more than might proceed from mental agitation; nevertheless he had borne it in silence, fearful of accumulating sorrow upon his amiable partner; but now that the attack seemed decided to declare itself, it was no longer in his power to conceal it. What an awful situation for this unfortunate family! a jail fever had begun to spread its malignancy within their little abode, exhibiting to their view a disconsolate woe, where but late, notwithstanding their confinement, a comparative happiness had reigned.
The mother and her eldest daughter Oriana were yet free from contagion; Rosilia was slowly gathering strength, and a relapse was to be dreaded as fatal. Though bewildered for a moment, the judgment of De Brooke returning, he clearly discerned that there was but one plan left to adopt, from which there could be no appeal, urgent and imperious necessity demanding it.
"Go, my dear, my best love"' said he, addressing himself to his wife, "for God's sake! go, whilst, you are enabled to do so; take with you your dear girls; one is partly recovered, the other is at ​present well: you yourself, God be praised, are well also; delay your going, and it may be too late. Afflicted by this cruel malady, of what use could you be to me or to your children? Leave your suffering boy and myself to the care of our trustworthy Robert; after yourself you could not provide us a better nurse."
"But where go?" ejaculated Mrs. De Brooke in tones of deep distress.
"To your lodgings at Kennington", replied her husband;" or, if they should be occupied, your friend Mrs. Philimore will provide a place of retreat. Fly, my Angelina, fly this melancholy abode; such scenes were never fit for you."
Fearing that he might exhaust himself by too much speaking, Mrs. De Brooke, with a desolated heart, rose, as she told him, to put his wishes into execution; inwardly, however, resolving to comply so far only as her children were concerned; so seizing her pen she wrote to Mrs. Philimore a hasty outline of the misery into which her family was plunged, and concluded with the necessity of immediately placing her little daughters to board under the care of a confidential and respectable person; leaving it to her friendship, and extensive acquaintance with the neighbourhood around her, to make the best arrangement in her power.
​ We have already said, that notwithstanding the imprisonment of De Brooke, a constant intercourse had been preserved between his family and that of Mr. Philimore, and Mrs. De Brooke never had felt the consolations derived from friendship stronger than in the present instance, in receiving a prompt reply to her letter, and finding its contents favourable to her views. She lost no time in the execution of her plan.
In a state of extreme debility, supported upon the sofa with cushions, De Brooke made an attempt to bid his wife and children farewell. The former, however, gently checking an effort she feared might be attended with pain, left the room, telling him she would return presently. Beckoning to Robert, she gave her two children to his charge, whilst she prepared herself to follow; but, ere she did so, paused awhile at the door of the chamber where she had left her husband and son. The latter, subdued by his illness, had insensibly sunk into a fit of drowsiness: putting her hand on the lock, she remained an instant undecided whether to see those dear objects once again before going; but as all was still within, and as her intention was soon to return, she thought it better to depart at once. Moving slowly away, and mournfully descending the staircase, after traversing the court, she reached the coach in ​waiting for her; stepping in, taking Rosilia on her lap, and placing Oriana by her side, with tears bedewing her eyes, she gave to Robert her parting injunctions; then waving her hand, she needed not words as a surety for the fulfilment of her wishes,—the tears of Robert were an attestation the most forcible she could receive. The coachman was ordered to drive to Mrs. Herbert's, Sunderland-place, such being the direction given by her friend, who recommended Mrs. Herbert as a person every way suited to take charge of her children.
Major Herbert, the husband of the lady in question, had by a death as awfully sudden and violent as it was premature, left a disconsolate widow and several youthful children to lament the loss of an affectionate relative, from whose army allowance their principal means of support had been furnished. The impression too by which the manner of his decease was attended, herself a witness, were such as to have produced in a frame of mind, naturally none of the weakest, a temporary subversion of intellect. Scarcely, however, had the arduous and absorbing duties devolved on the viduated mother, and she began to withdraw her mind from the contemplation of a tragic scene, when she was called to undergo fresh sorrow: she beheld, one by one, her orphan family fade and ​perish under her eye, two sons excepted, who had alone survived to bless and cheer her widowhood. It was by means of remittances occasionally received from her eldest, a captain in the East India service, united to a slender income gained by taking in private boarders, that she was enabled to live with tolerable comfort and ease. Mrs. Herbert, by the exemplary propriety of her conduct, had won the esteem and goodwill of several in circles far superior to her own, and was not unknown to Mrs. Philimore, who, in acceding to the views of her friend, had conceived that as a temporary asylum for her children, no place could be more appropriate than the peaceful dwelling of the respected widow. Accordingly she had lost no time in paying her a visit, and having her opinion confirmed by her extreme partiality for children, as well as having ascertained that the proposition was agreeable, she had written without delay to her friend accordingly, and had left her to make the necessary arrangements for the expected arrival of her young charges.
Mrs. De Brooke found the good lady of the house in readiness to receive her. She was of a slender frame, with a countenance more worn than is usual at the age of fifty, yet expressive of good humour; with much volubility of speech, she ​conducted her newly arrived guests into a small, but neatly furnished parlour, to which a cheerful fire gave an appearance of additional comfort. Nevertheless, the children seemed not a little dejected, which their kind hostess quickly perceiving, and supposing it to result from intimidation at being left alone in a strange house, exerted herself by acts of maternal kindness to comfort them, taking each by turns on her knee, and endeavouring with an affectionate familiarity to soothe and amuse them. But the little Rosilia, so lately pronounced out of danger, trembled like an aspen-leaf, and Oriana in her turn showed signs of indisposition.
What a trial! what a conflict of feelings for the mother! Still as her disasters accumulated, it became evident to herself that providentially and unexpectedly her strength of mind was proportionally sustained. Encompassed as was this tender wife and parent on every side with sorrow, divided between her absent husband, son, and the dear children then present; the two former unhappily afflicted within the narrow, confines of a prison, presented an image torturing to her mind. Having now therefore no alternative, she earnestly commended with prayers her little ones to the promises and sympathizing feelings of the worthy ​widow, who, from her own experience, could well appreciate those innumerable anxieties of maternity, and for her part left nothing unsaid that could tend to lessen the uneasiness of Mrs. De Brooke, assuring her that no care that a mother could bestow should be wanting to render her children happy and comfortable. Thus assured, Mrs. De Brooke had the additional satisfaction of seeing them carried to their respective beds, after partaking of various little attentions impossible to have been paid them by their mother in their present situation.
Regarding Mrs. Herbert as a ministering agent in this her great calamity, she took a grateful and affectionate leave of her, and invoking heavenly blessings on her children, she left them with an agitated heart to return to their father.