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<h2> CHAPTER 3 </h2>
<p>WHEN PERUSING the first parcel of books, Maria had, with her pencil,
written in one of them a few exclamations, expressive of compassion and
sympathy, which she scarcely remembered, till turning over the leaves of
one of the volumes, lately brought to her, a slip of paper dropped out,
which Jemima hastily snatched up.</p>
<p>"Let me see it," demanded Maria impatiently, "You surely are not afraid of
trusting me with the effusions of a madman?" "I must consider," replied
Jemima; and withdrew, with the paper in her hand.</p>
<p>In a life of such seclusion, the passions gain undue force; Maria
therefore felt a great degree of resentment and vexation, which she had
not time to subdue, before Jemima, returning, delivered the paper.</p>
<p>"Whoever you are, who partake of my fate,<br/>
accept my sincere commiseration—I would have said<br/>
protection; but the privilege of man is denied me.<br/>
<br/>
"My own situation forces a dreadful suspicion on<br/>
my mind—I may not always languish in vain for freedom—<br/>
say are you—I cannot ask the question; yet I will<br/>
remember you when my remembrance can be of any use.<br/>
I will enquire, why you are so mysteriously detained—<br/>
and I will have an answer.<br/>
<br/>
"HENRY DARNFORD."<br/></p>
<p>By the most pressing intreaties, Maria prevailed on Jemima to permit her
to write a reply to this note. Another and another succeeded, in which
explanations were not allowed relative to their present situation; but
Maria, with sufficient explicitness, alluded to a former obligation; and
they insensibly entered on an interchange of sentiments on the most
important subjects. To write these letters was the business of the day,
and to receive them the moment of sunshine. By some means, Darnford having
discovered Maria's window, when she next appeared at it, he made her,
behind his keepers, a profound bow of respect and recognition.</p>
<p>Two or three weeks glided away in this kind of intercourse, during which
period Jemima, to whom Maria had given the necessary information
respecting her family, had evidently gained some intelligence, which
increased her desire of pleasing her charge, though she could not yet
determine to liberate her. Maria took advantage of this favourable charge,
without too minutely enquiring into the cause; and such was her eagerness
to hold human converse, and to see her former protector, still a stranger
to her, that she incessantly requested her guard to gratify her more than
curiosity.</p>
<p>Writing to Darnford, she was led from the sad objects before her, and
frequently rendered insensible to the horrid noises around her, which
previously had continually employed her feverish fancy. Thinking it
selfish to dwell on her own sufferings, when in the midst of wretches, who
had not only lost all that endears life, but their very selves, her
imagination was occupied with melancholy earnestness to trace the mazes of
misery, through which so many wretches must have passed to this gloomy
receptacle of disjointed souls, to the grand source of human corruption.
Often at midnight was she waked by the dismal shrieks of demoniac rage, or
of excruciating despair, uttered in such wild tones of indescribable
anguish as proved the total absence of reason, and roused phantoms of
horror in her mind, far more terrific than all that dreaming superstition
ever drew. Besides, there was frequently something so inconceivably
picturesque in the varying gestures of unrestrained passion, so
irresistibly comic in their sallies, or so heart-piercingly pathetic in
the little airs they would sing, frequently bursting out after an awful
silence, as to fascinate the attention, and amuse the fancy, while
torturing the soul. It was the uproar of the passions which she was
compelled to observe; and to mark the lucid beam of reason, like a light
trembling in a socket, or like the flash which divides the threatening
clouds of angry heaven only to display the horrors which darkness
shrouded.</p>
<p>Jemima would labour to beguile the tedious evenings, by describing the
persons and manners of the unfortunate beings, whose figures or voices
awoke sympathetic sorrow in Maria's bosom; and the stories she told were
the more interesting, for perpetually leaving room to conjecture something
extraordinary. Still Maria, accustomed to generalize her observations, was
led to conclude from all she heard, that it was a vulgar error to suppose
that people of abilities were the most apt to lose the command of reason.
On the contrary, from most of the instances she could investigate, she
thought it resulted, that the passions only appeared strong and
disproportioned, because the judgment was weak and unexercised; and that
they gained strength by the decay of reason, as the shadows lengthen
during the sun's decline.</p>
<p>Maria impatiently wished to see her fellow-sufferer; but Darnford was
still more earnest to obtain an interview. Accustomed to submit to every
impulse of passion, and never taught, like women, to restrain the most
natural, and acquire, instead of the bewitching frankness of nature, a
factitious propriety of behaviour, every desire became a torrent that bore
down all opposition.</p>
<p>His travelling trunk, which contained the books lent to Maria, had been
sent to him, and with a part of its contents he bribed his principal
keeper; who, after receiving the most solemn promise that he would return
to his apartment without attempting to explore any part of the house,
conducted him, in the dusk of the evening, to Maria's room.</p>
<p>Jemima had apprized her charge of the visit, and she expected with
trembling impatience, inspired by a vague hope that he might again prove
her deliverer, to see a man who had before rescued her from oppression. He
entered with an animation of countenance, formed to captivate an
enthusiast; and, hastily turned his eyes from her to the apartment, which
he surveyed with apparent emotions of compassionate indignation. Sympathy
illuminated his eye, and, taking her hand, he respectfully bowed on it,
exclaiming—"This is extraordinary!—again to meet you, and in
such circumstances!" Still, impressive as was the coincidence of events
which brought them once more together, their full hearts did not overflow.—*</p>
<p>* The copy which had received the author's last corrections<br/>
breaks off in this place, and the pages which follow, to the<br/>
end of Chap. IV, are printed from a copy in a less finished<br/>
state. [Godwin's note]<br/></p>
<p>[And though, after this first visit, they were permitted frequently to
repeat their interviews, they were for some time employed in] a reserved
conversation, to which all the world might have listened; excepting, when
discussing some literary subject, flashes of sentiment, inforced by each
relaxing feature, seemed to remind them that their minds were already
acquainted.</p>
<p>[By degrees, Darnford entered into the particulars of his story.] In a few
words, he informed her that he had been a thoughtless, extravagant young
man; yet, as he described his faults, they appeared to be the generous
luxuriancy of a noble mind. Nothing like meanness tarnished the lustre of
his youth, nor had the worm of selfishness lurked in the unfolding bud,
even while he had been the dupe of others. Yet he tardily acquired the
experience necessary to guard him against future imposition.</p>
<p>"I shall weary you," continued he, "by my egotism; and did not powerful
emotions draw me to you,"—his eyes glistened as he spoke, and a
trembling seemed to run through his manly frame,—"I would not waste
these precious moments in talking of myself.</p>
<p>"My father and mother were people of fashion; married by their parents. He
was fond of the turf, she of the card-table. I, and two or three other
children since dead, were kept at home till we became intolerable. My
father and mother had a visible dislike to each other, continually
displayed; the servants were of the depraved kind usually found in the
houses of people of fortune. My brothers and parents all dying, I was left
to the care of guardians; and sent to Eton. I never knew the sweets of
domestic affection, but I felt the want of indulgence and frivolous
respect at school. I will not disgust you with a recital of the vices of
my youth, which can scarcely be comprehended by female delicacy. I was
taught to love by a creature I am ashamed to mention; and the other women
with whom I afterwards became intimate, were of a class of which you can
have no knowledge. I formed my acquaintance with them at the theaters;
and, when vivacity danced in their eyes, I was not easily disgusted by the
vulgarity which flowed from their lips. Having spent, a few years after I
was of age, [the whole of] a considerable patrimony, excepting a few
hundreds, I had no resource but to purchase a commission in a new-raised
regiment, destined to subjugate America. The regret I felt to renounce a
life of pleasure, was counter-balanced by the curiosity I had to see
America, or rather to travel; [nor had any of those circumstances occurred
to my youth, which might have been calculated] to bind my country to my
heart. I shall not trouble you with the details of a military life. My
blood was still kept in motion; till, towards the close of the contest, I
was wounded and taken prisoner.</p>
<p>"Confined to my bed, or chair, by a lingering cure, my only refuge from
the preying activity of my mind, was books, which I read with great
avidity, profiting by the conversation of my host, a man of sound
understanding. My political sentiments now underwent a total change; and,
dazzled by the hospitality of the Americans, I determined to take up my
abode with freedom. I, therefore, with my usual impetuosity, sold my
commission, and travelled into the interior parts of the country, to lay
out my money to advantage. Added to this, I did not much like the
puritanical manners of the large towns. Inequality of condition was there
most disgustingly galling. The only pleasure wealth afforded, was to make
an ostentatious display of it; for the cultivation of the fine arts, or
literature, had not introduced into the first circles that polish of
manners which renders the rich so essentially superior to the poor in
Europe. Added to this, an influx of vices had been let in by the
Revolution, and the most rigid principles of religion shaken to the
centre, before the understanding could be gradually emancipated from the
prejudices which led their ancestors undauntedly to seek an inhospitable
clime and unbroken soil. The resolution, that led them, in pursuit of
independence, to embark on rivers like seas, to search for unknown shores,
and to sleep under the hovering mists of endless forests, whose baleful
damps agued their limbs, was now turned into commercial speculations, till
the national character exhibited a phenomenon in the history of the human
mind—a head enthusiastically enterprising, with cold selfishness of
heart. And woman, lovely woman!—they charm everywhere—still
there is a degree of prudery, and a want of taste and ease in the manners
of the American women, that renders them, in spite of their roses and
lilies, far inferior to our European charmers. In the country, they have
often a bewitching simplicity of character; but, in the cities, they have
all the airs and ignorance of the ladies who give the tone to the circles
of the large trading towns in England. They are fond of their ornaments,
merely because they are good, and not because they embellish their
persons; and are more gratified to inspire the women with jealousy of
these exterior advantages, than the men with love. All the frivolity which
often (excuse me, Madam) renders the society of modest women so stupid in
England, here seemed to throw still more leaden fetters on their charms.
Not being an adept in gallantry, I found that I could only keep myself
awake in their company by making downright love to them.</p>
<p>"But, not to intrude on your patience, I retired to the track of land
which I had purchased in the country, and my time passed pleasantly enough
while I cut down the trees, built my house, and planted my different
crops. But winter and idleness came, and I longed for more elegant
society, to hear what was passing in the world, and to do something better
than vegetate with the animals that made a very considerable part of my
household. Consequently, I determined to travel. Motion was a substitute
for variety of objects; and, passing over immense tracks of country, I
exhausted my exuberant spirits, without obtaining much experience. I every
where saw industry the fore-runner and not the consequence, of luxury; but
this country, everything being on an ample scale, did not afford those
picturesque views, which a certain degree of cultivation is necessary
gradually to produce. The eye wandered without an object to fix upon over
immeasureable plains, and lakes that seemed replenished by the ocean,
whilst eternal forests of small clustering trees, obstructed the
circulation of air, and embarrassed the path, without gratifying the eye
of taste. No cottage smiling in the waste, no travellers hailed us, to
give life to silent nature; or, if perchance we saw the print of a
footstep in our path, it was a dreadful warning to turn aside; and the
head ached as if assailed by the scalping knife. The Indians who hovered
on the skirts of the European settlements had only learned of their
neighbours to plunder, and they stole their guns from them to do it with
more safety.</p>
<p>"From the woods and back settlements, I returned to the towns, and learned
to eat and drink most valiantly; but without entering into commerce (and I
detested commerce) I found I could not live there; and, growing heartily
weary of the land of liberty and vulgar aristocracy, seated on her bags of
dollars, I resolved once more to visit Europe. I wrote to a distant
relation in England, with whom I had been educated, mentioning the vessel
in which I intended to sail. Arriving in London, my senses were
intoxicated. I ran from street to street, from theater to theater, and the
women of the town (again I must beg pardon for my habitual frankness)
appeared to me like angels.</p>
<p>"A week was spent in this thoughtless manner, when, returning very late to
the hotel in which I had lodged ever since my arrival, I was knocked down
in a private street, and hurried, in a state of insensibility, into a
coach, which brought me hither, and I only recovered my senses to be
treated like one who had lost them. My keepers are deaf to my
remonstrances and enquiries, yet assure me that my confinement shall not
last long. Still I cannot guess, though I weary myself with conjectures,
why I am confined, or in what part of England this house is situated. I
imagine sometimes that I hear the sea roar, and wished myself again on the
Atlantic, till I had a glimpse of you."*</p>
<p>A few moments were only allowed to Maria to comment on this narrative,
when Darnford left her to her own thoughts, to the "never ending, still
beginning," task of weighing his words, recollecting his tones of voice,
and feeling them reverberate on her heart.</p>
<p>* The introduction of Darnford as the deliverer of Maria in<br/>
a former instance, appears to have been an after-thought of<br/>
the author. This has occasioned the omission of any<br/>
allusion to that circumstance in the preceding narration.<br/>
EDITOR. [Godwin's note]<br/></p>
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