Tales and Novels, vol 10 | Page 2

to live with
his accustomed hospitality and splendour, the world believed him to be
as rich as ever.
Some rise superior from the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, but that
was not the case with Dean Stanley, not from want of elasticity of mind;
but perhaps because his ingenuity continually suggested resources, and
his sanguine character led him to plunge into speculations--they failed,
and in the anxiety and agitation which his embarrassments occasioned
him, he fell into bad health, his physicians ordered him to Italy. Helen,
his devoted nurse, the object upon which all his affections centered,
accompanied him to Florence. There his health and spirits seemed at
first, by the change of climate, to be renovated; but in Italy he found
fresh temptations to extravagance, his learning and his fancy combined
to lead him on from day to day to new expense, and he satisfied his
conscience by saying to himself that all the purchases which he now
made were only so much capital, which would, when sold in England,
bring more than their original price, and would, he flattered himself,
increase the fortune he intended for his niece. But one day, while he

was actually bargaining for an antique, he was seized with a fit of
apoplexy. From this fit he recovered, and was able to return to England
with his niece. Here he found his debts and difficulties had been
increasing; he was harassed with doubts as to the monied value of his
last-chosen chef-d'oeuvres; his mind preyed upon his weakened frame,
he was seized with another fit, lost his speech, and, after struggles the
most melancholy for Helen to see, conscious as she was that she could
do nothing for him--he expired--his eyes fixed on her face, and his
powerless hand held between both hers.
All was desolation and dismay at the deanery; Helen was removed to
the vicarage by the kindness of the good vicar and his wife, Mr. and
Mrs. Collingwood.
It was found that the dean, instead of leaving a large fortune, had
nothing to leave. All he had laid out at the deanery was sunk and gone;
his real property all sold; his imaginary wealth, his pictures, statues--his
whole collection, even his books, his immense library, shrunk so much
in value when estimated after his death, that the demands of the
creditors could not be nearly answered: as to any provision for Miss
Stanley, that was out of the question.
These were the circumstances which Mrs. Collingwood feared to reveal,
and which Mr. Collingwood thought should be told immediately to
Helen; but hitherto she had been so much absorbed in sorrow for the
uncle she had loved, that no one had ventured on the task.
Though Mr. and Mrs. Collingwood had not known her long (for they
had but lately come to the neighbourhood), they had the greatest
sympathy for her orphan state; and they had seen enough of her during
her uncle's illness to make them warmly attached to her. Every body
loved her that knew her, rich or poor, for in her young prosperity, from
her earliest childhood, she had been always sweet-tempered and
kind-hearted; for though she had been bred up in the greatest luxury,
educated as heiress to a large fortune, taught every accomplishment,
used to every fashionable refinement, she was not spoiled--she was not
in the least selfish. Indeed, her uncle's indulgence, excessive though it
was, had been always joined with so much affection, that it had early

touched her heart, and filled her whole soul with ardent gratitude.
It is said, that the ill men do, lives after them--the good is oft interred
with their bones. It was not so with Dean Stanley: the good he had
intended for Helen, his large fortune, was lost and gone; but the real
good he had done for his niece remained in full force, and to the honour
of his memory: the excellent education he had given her--it was
excellent not merely in the worldly meaning of the word, as regards
accomplishments and elegance of manners, but excellent in having
given her a firm sense of duty, as the great principle of action, and as
the guide of her naturally warm generous affections.
And now, when Helen returned from her walk, Mr. Collingwood, in the
gentlest and kindest manner he was able, informed her of the confusion
in her uncle's affairs, the debts, the impossibility of paying the creditors,
the total loss of all fortune for herself.
Mrs. Collingwood had well foreseen the effect this intelligence would
have on Helen. At first, with fixed incredulous eyes, she could not
believe that her uncle could have been in any way to blame. Twice she
asked--"Are you sure--are you certain--is there no mistake?" And when
the conviction was forced upon her, still her mind