Mary | Page 8

the poor woman to carry into
execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.
Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight
with him, than Mary's arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy
and friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive
of occult qualities he never thought of, as they could not be seen or felt.
After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish,
though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of
amusing her. Had her health been re-established, the time would have
passed in a tranquil, improving manner.
During the year of mourning they lived in retirement; music, drawing,
and reading, filled up the time; and Mary's taste and judgment were
both improved by contracting a habit of observation, and permitting the
simple beauties of Nature to occupy her thoughts.
She had a wonderful quickness in discerning distinctions and

combining ideas, that at the first glance did not appear to be similar.
But these various pursuits did not banish all her cares, or carry off all
her constitutional black bile. Before she enjoyed Ann's society, she
imagined it would have made her completely happy: she was
disappointed, and yet knew not what to complain of.
As her friend could not accompany her in her walks, and wished to be
alone, for a very obvious reason, she would return to her old haunts,
retrace her anticipated pleasures--and wonder how they changed their
colour in possession, and proved so futile.
She had not yet found the companion she looked for. Ann and she were
not congenial minds, nor did she contribute to her comfort in the degree
she expected. She shielded her from poverty; but this was only a
negative blessing; when under the pressure it was very grievous, and
still more so were the apprehensions; but when exempt from them, she
was not contented.
Such is human nature, its laws were not to be inverted to gratify our
heroine, and stop the progress of her understanding, happiness only
flourished in paradise--we cannot taste and live.
Another year passed away with increasing apprehensions. Ann had a
hectic cough, and many unfavourable prognostics: Mary then forgot
every thing but the fear of losing her, and even imagined that her
recovery would have made her happy.
Her anxiety led her to study physic, and for some time she only read
books of that cast; and this knowledge, literally speaking, ended in
vanity and vexation of spirit, as it enabled her to foresee what she could
not prevent.
As her mind expanded, her marriage appeared a dreadful misfortune;
she was sometimes reminded of the heavy yoke, and bitter was the
recollection!
In one thing there seemed to be a sympathy between them, for she
wrote formal answers to his as formal letters. An extreme dislike took

root in her mind; the found of his name made her turn sick; but she
forgot all, listening to Ann's cough, and supporting her languid frame.
She would then catch her to her bosom with convulsive eagerness, as if
to save her from sinking into an opening grave.

CHAP. VII.
It was the will of Providence that Mary should experience almost every
species of sorrow. Her father was thrown from his horse, when his
blood was in a very inflammatory state, and the bruises were very
dangerous; his recovery was not expected by the physical tribe.
Terrified at seeing him so near death, and yet so ill prepared for it, his
daughter sat by his bed, oppressed by the keenest anguish, which her
piety increased.
Her grief had nothing selfish in it; he was not a friend or protector; but
he was her father, an unhappy wretch, going into eternity, depraved and
thoughtless. Could a life of sensuality be a preparation for a peaceful
death? Thus meditating, she passed the still midnight hour by his
bedside.
The nurse fell asleep, nor did a violent thunder storm interrupt her
repose, though it made the night appear still more terrific to Mary. Her
father's unequal breathing alarmed her, when she heard a long drawn
breath, she feared it was his last, and watching for another, a dreadful
peal of thunder struck her ears. Considering the separation of the soul
and body, this night seemed sadly solemn, and the hours long.
Death is indeed a king of terrors when he attacks the vicious man! The
compassionate heart finds not any comfort; but dreads an eternal
separation. No transporting greetings are anticipated, when the
survivors also shall have finished their course; but all is black!--the
grave may truly be said to receive the departed--this is the sting of
death!
Night after night Mary watched, and this excessive fatigue impaired her

own health, but had a worse effect on