The Phoenix — Dover [N.H.], 1793-04-27 00:00:00, page 1

1 vanquished ; but her sense
of virtue was not overcome.
Neither the vows of eternal
fidelity of her seducer, nor the
coriftant and refpeftful attenti
on which he paid^hr during
a hurried journey ffMhtyfyg,
could allay that anguifhwhicn
(he fuffered at the recollection
of her past, and the thoughts
of her present situation, Sir Ed
ward felt strongly the power
of her beauty and of her grief.
His heart was not made for
that part which, it is probable,
he thought it could have per
formed : it was still fubjeCt to
remorse, to compassion, and
to love. These emotions, per
haps he might soon have over—
'conreHradrt^^ been rae* by
vulgar violence or reproach ;
but the quiet and unupbraiding
sorrows of Louisa, nourished
those feelings of tenderness
and attachment. She never
mentioned her wrongs in
,words; sometimes a few start
ing tears would speak them ;
and whentime had given her
a little more composure, her
lute difeourfed melancholy
music.
On their arrival in England,
Sir Edward carried Loui/a to
his feat in the Country. There
She was treated with all the
obfervanceof a wife; and, had
(he chosen it mighthave com
manded more than the ordi
nary fplendcr of one. But She
would not allow the indul
gence ofSir Edward to blazon
with equipage, and Show that
state which She wished always
tohide, and, if possible, to for
get. Her books and her mufic
were her only plealure; if
plealure they could be called,
that served but to alleviate
misery, and to blunt, for a
while, the pangs of contrition.
These were deeply aggra
vated by the recollection of
her father: a father left in his
1 he
Vol. 111. Numb. CXLI^
C 0
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daughter's disgrace. Sir
Edward was too generous not
to think of providing For
Venom. He meant to make
some atonement forthe injury
he had done him by that cruel
bounty which Preparation
only to the bale, but to the hon
est is insult. He had not, how
ever, an opportunity of accom
plishing his purpole. He
learned that Venoni, soon after
his daughter's elopement, re
moved from his former place
of residence, and, as his neigh
bours reported, had died in one
of the villages of 'Savoy. His
daughter felt this with anguish
the most poignant, and her
affiiCtioD, for a whiles refufed
confolatioo. Sir Edward's
whole tenderness and attention
were called forth to mitigate
her grief ; and, after its firft
transports had lubfided, he
carried her to London, in
hopes that objeCts newto her,
and commonly attractive to all,
might contiibute to remove it.
With a man possessed of fee
lings like Sir Edward's, the
affliction of Louisa gave a cer
tain reSpeCt to his attentions.
He hired her a house Separate
from his own, and treated her
with all the delicacy of the
purest attachment. But his
folicitudero comfortandamufe
her was not attended with suc
cess. She felt all the herrours
of that guilt, which the now
considered as not only the ruin
of herfelf, but the murderer of
her father.
In London, Sir Edward
found his filler, who had mar
ried a man of great fortune
-and high fa/hion. He had
married her, because (he was
a fine woman, and admired
by fine men ; (he had married
him, because he was the weal
thiest of her luitors. They
lived, as is common to people
in such a situation, necessitous
with a princely revenue, and
^mzt
j^^^retcaed anvdft.perpe-,I
tual gaiety. This icerie was';
so foreign from the idea Sir 3
Edward had formed of the;
reception his country and
friends were to afford him, :
that he found a constant
source of disgust, in the society:
of his equals. In their conver-:
fation fantaftic, not refined, 1
their ideas were frivolous, and
their knowledge (hallow ; and I
with all the pride of birth I
and infolepce of Ration, their 1
principles were mean and their
minds ignoble. In their pre-'
tended attachment, he difcov-<
ered only designs of felfifh-(
nefs : and their pleasures, he
experienced,were as fallacious
as their friendships. In the:
society of Louisa he found<
sensibility and truth; her's
was theonly heart that seemed 1
interested in his welfare : (he 1
saw the return of virtue in Sir i
Edward, and felt the friend- I
(hip which he (hewed her. 1
Sometimes when (he percei
ved him forrowful, her lute
would leave its melancholy
for more lively airs, and her
countenance affnme a gaiety
it was not formed to wear.
But her heart was breaking
with that anguilh which her
generosity endeavoured to
conceal from ; her frame, too
delicate for the struggle with
her feelings, leemed to yield
to their force ; her rest forfook
her : the colour faded in her
cheek ; the luftre of her eyes
grew dim. Sir Edward saw
these lymptoms of decay
with the deepest remorse.
Often did be curse those falfe
ideas of pleasure which had
led him to confider the ruin
of an artless girl, who loved
and trusted him, as an object
which it was luxury to attain
and pride to accomplilhOften
did he wi(h to blot out fiom
his life a few. guilty months,
to be again restored to an op
portunity of giving happiness
T\l'
Phenix.
S A TURDA Y April 27, 1793.
to that family, whole unfuf
peci^g^uf&rf^i^neQJureFCT^
with the treachery of a robbec,
and the cruelty of an affaffing
One evening, while he sac
in a little parlour with Louisa
his mind alternately agitated,
and foftened with this impreft
fion, a hand organ, of a re
markably sweet tone, was
heard in the street. Louisa
laid aside her lute and listened
the airs it played were those
of her native country ; and a
few tears, which (he endea
vour to hide, dole from her
on hearing them. Sir Edward
ordered a lervant to fetch the
organist into the room : he
was brought in accordingly,
and seated at the door of the
apartment.
He played one or two
fprightiy ~tunes; to Whiefri ^
Louisa had often danced in her
infancy : (he gave herfelf up
to the recollection, and her,
tears flowed without controul.
Suddenly the musician, chang
ing the flop, introduced a
little melancholy air of a wild
and plaintive kind. Louisa
started from her feat, and
rushed up to the stranger. He
threw off a tattered coat,
and black patch. It was her
father ! (he would have sprung
to embrace him ; he turned
aside for a few moments, and
would not receive her into
his arms. But Nature at last
overcome his resentment ;he
burst into tears, and pressed
to his bosom his long loft
danghter, fir Edward flood
fixed in astonishment and
confufion. " I come riot to
upbraid you," said Venoni ,
“ I am a poor weak, old man,
unable for upbraidings ; I am
come but to find my child,
to forgive her, and to die I
when you saw us firft, fir
Edward, we were riot thus.
You found us virtuous and
happy, we danced and we sung
and there was not a fad heart