Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 167: what you’re looking at

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154 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. assure her erring but repentant sister of a mother’s forgiveness. Alas! she reached not the doctor’s house until the morning of the 24th; and during the preceding night her sister Violet had perished in giving birth to a dead babe. The grief of Annabel was for some hours of the most distracting nature: but by degrees she grew more composed; and in due course she learnt, with infinite surprise, that I was an inmate of the ' doctor’s house. The wild scene which had occurred within a few minutes after Violet had breathed her last, and in which I figured in a manner so unac- countable to those who beheld my conduct, was mentioned to Annabel; and she at once explained the mystery by stating that I was her cousin. In- asmuch as I had passionately ejaculated her own name—that name of Annabel—when flinging my- self on my knees by the side of the couch, she at once comprehended the error into which I had fallen, and that I had mistaken Violet for herself. Then also she understood for the first time the meaning of my singular conduct towards her when we met at Exeter; and she naturally longed for the time to come when I might be disabused of an impression so little favourable to her own immacu- late virtue. Pomfrets during my illness—that the nurse ori- ginally engaged for Violet, was retained to attend upon me—that the doctor himself forbore from h for my conduct on the night of Violet’s death—and that Annabel had been enabled, without the risk of being taxed with impropriety, to pay me frequent visits in my aught bordering on chamber,—all these cireumstances were now fully comprehensible; inasmuch as the Pomfrets had been informed that I was the cousin of the two sisters. Annabel had of course tarried until after the funeral of the unfortunate Violet ; and she lin- gered longer still beneath that roof, in order that she might have speech with me when I should return to a state of consciousness. I should add that Dr. Pomfret communieated the cireumstance of Violet’s death to Sir Maleolm Wavenham, who was then at his own mansion near Charlton in Devonshire ; and it was delicately intimated that as Violet’s sister was at the house, it would proba- bly be better if the Baronet did not make his appearance there, but should entrust to the phy- sician himself all the arrangements for the funeral. These suggestions were duly adopted by Sir Mal- colm Wavenham ; and there can be no doubt that Dr. Pomfret had every reason to be satisfied with the Baronet’s liberality, inasmuch as his own con- duct and that of his wife was most courteous and kind towards Annabel—and, for her sake, towards me as her cousin. CHAPTER XXXII CHELTENHAM. As I have already stated, the above narrative has been compiled from the contents of the packet which Annabel left behind her, and which Dr. Pomfret placed in my hands when I became con- valescent, I will not pause to describe the varied emotions with which I perused Annabel’s letter and the one which Violet had written to her mother: That I was treated so kindly by the but I cannot resume the thread of my own nar- rative without observing that I was filled with solemn sensations, and indeed awful feelings, when I reflected how Violet had sunk into the arms of death in the very last hour of the year which dated from that memorable Midsummer’s Eve when [I beheld her through the window of Charlton Church, Her appearance there had nothing superstitious in it: it was she herself, in the veritable flesh and blood, whom I had seen on the occasion: but there did appear something stupendously preternatural in the fact that the incident should have been really prophetic of her doom, in compliance with the very superstition itself which had prompted me to pay that visit to the village church. Those who read this narrative, may account for it as a coinci- dence—as a mere accidental occurrence: but to me it wore the aspect of something providential; and even asI think of it now, with a matured intelli- gence and with ideas sobered down from everything savouring of youthful enthusiasm, I can view it in no less serious light. I now resume the thread of my narrative. The reader will recollect I had faithfully promised Annabel that I would leave Dr. Pomfret’s service as soon as possible ;—and not merely because I had given this pledge, but likewise for my own sake, was I anxious to get away from Salisbury, so as to avoid any possibility of again falling imto the hands of Mr. Lanover. Being now convalescent, I took the earliest opportunity of expressing to Dr. Pomfret my wish to remove elsewhere. He attributed this desire on my part to a natural dis- taste to remain beneath a roof where my cousin had died under such mournful circumstances; and I did not choose to inform him that there were other and stronger motives influencing me in that respect. He asked me if I thought fit to remain a month longer, or if I wished to leave at once ?— and I decided upon the latter alternative, at the same time expressing my gratitude for the kind- mess I had received during my illness. He in- quired whither I was going?—and not knowing exactly how to answer, I said that I should return into Devonshire, where I had some few acquaint- ances who might help me to another situation. I requested him to give me a written character, which might -be added to my other testimonials ; and with this demand he willingly complied: for he had no doubt been so well paid on behalf of poor Violet, as to think it but right and proper to behave with kindness towards her cousin. Besides, this kindness cost the physician nothing ; and I knew that the written testimonial I solicited, was no more than I deserved. On the second morning after the perusal of the contents of Annabel’s packet, I took leave of Dr. and Mrs. Pomfret and my fellow-servants, and re- paired to the coach-office, a porter bringing my box. I knew not in which direction to proceed— whether north, east, south, or west. I might have imitated tae pilgrims and the mendicants of the olden time, who, setting up a staff on one end, let it fall, and then bent their way in the direction thus indicated. To one thing however I made up my mind: and this was not to go into Devonshire, for the very reason that I had told the doctor L was about to proceed thither. I was in a mortal terror of Mr. Lanover whenever I thought of him ; and the details of Annabel’s narrative had by no ElLO@O) SS (c@) im