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Page 14
Could the contemplation of such a people gratify Mary's heart? No: she
turned disgusted from the prospects--turned to a man of refinement.
Henry had been some time ill and low-spirited; Mary would have been
attentive to any one in that situation; but to him she was particularly
so; she thought herself bound in gratitude, on account of his constant
endeavours to amuse Ann, and prevent her dwelling on the dreary prospect
before her, which sometimes she could not help anticipating with a kind
of quiet despair.
She found some excuse for going more frequently into the room they all
met in; nay, she avowed her desire to amuse him: offered to read to him,
and tried to draw him into amusing conversations; and when she was full
of these little schemes, she looked at him with a degree of tenderness
that she was not conscious of. This divided attention was of use to her,
and prevented her continually thinking of Ann, whose fluctuating
disorder often gave rise to false hopes.
A trifling thing occurred now which occasioned Mary some uneasiness. Her
maid, a well-looking girl, had captivated the clerk of a neighbouring
compting-house. As the match was an advantageous one, Mary could not
raise any objection to it, though at this juncture it was very
disagreeable to her to have a stranger about her person. However, the
girl consented to delay the marriage, as she had some affection for her
mistress; and, besides, looked forward to Ann's death as a time of
harvest.
Henry's illness was not alarming, it was rather pleasing, as it gave
Mary an excuse to herself for shewing him how much she was interested
about him; and giving little artless proofs of affection, which the
purity of her heart made her never wish to restrain.
The only visible return he made was not obvious to common observers. He
would sometimes fix his eyes on her, and take them off with a sigh that
was coughed away; or when he was leisurely walking into the room, and
did not expect to see her, he would quicken his steps, and come up to
her with eagerness to ask some trivial question. In the same style, he
would try to detain her when he had nothing to say--or said nothing.
Ann did not take notice of either his or Mary's behaviour, nor did she
suspect that he was a favourite, on any other account than his
appearing neither well nor happy. She had often seen that when a person
was unfortunate, Mary's pity might easily be mistaken for love, and,
indeed, it was a temporary sensation of that kind. Such it was--why it
was so, let others define, I cannot argue against instincts. As reason
is cultivated in man, they are supposed to grow weaker, and this may
have given rise to the assertion, "That as judgment improves, genius
evaporates."
CHAP. XV.
One morning they set out to visit the aqueduct; though the day was very
fine when they left home, a very heavy shower fell before they reached
it; they lengthened their ride, the clouds dispersed, and the sun came
from behind them uncommonly bright.
Mary would fain have persuaded Ann not to have left the carriage; but
she was in spirits, and obviated all her objections, and insisted on
walking, tho' the ground was damp. But her strength was not equal to her
spirits; she was soon obliged to return to the carriage so much
fatigued, that she fainted, and remained insensible a long time.
Henry would have supported her; but Mary would not permit him; her
recollection was instantaneous, and she feared sitting on the damp
ground might do him a material injury: she was on that account positive,
though the company did not guess the cause of her being so. As to
herself, she did not fear bodily pain; and, when her mind was agitated,
she could endure the greatest fatigue without appearing sensible of it.
When Ann recovered, they returned slowly home; she was carried to bed,
and the next morning Mary thought she observed a visible change for the
worse. The physician was sent for, who pronounced her to be in the most
imminent danger.
All Mary's former fears now returned like a torrent, and carried every
other care away; she even added to her present anguish by upbraiding
herself for her late tranquillity--it haunted her in the form of a
crime.
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