LADY MACLAIRN,
THE
VICTIM OF VILLANY.
A NOVEL.
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
BY MRS. HUNTER,
OF NORWICH,
AUTHOR OF LETITIA; THE UNEXPECTED LEGACY; THE HISTORY OFTHE GRUBTHORPE FAMILY; PALMERSTONE'S LETTERS, &c. &c.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR W. EARLE AND J.W. HUCKLEBRIDGE;
AND SOLD BY W. EARLE, NO. 47, ALBEMARLE STREET; GEORGEROBINSON, PATERNOSTER ROW; B. CROSBY AND CO. STATIONER'SCOURT; THO. OSTELL, AVE MARIA LANE; AND ALL OTHERBOOKSELLERS.
1806.
[Barnard and Sultzer, Water Lane, Fleet Street.]
LADY MACLAIRN,
THE
VICTIM OF VILLANY.
CHAP. I.
LETTER XIII.
Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle.
Wednesday Evening.
I Know, my dear Lucy, that you will expect the sequel of the disastroustale contained in my last letter; and that you will very ingeniouslycontrive to muster up many conclusive arguments to prove that RachelCowley's health will be absolutely ruined at Tarefield. Facts are,however, stubborn things. She has passed this trial of her strengthwithout[Pg 4] a fever on her nerves, notwithstanding a cold which, on Mondayand yesterday, gave her a pretence for keeping her apartment andnursing the poor baronet.
On the Monday morning Malcolm gave me to understand, with visibleuneasiness, that his father had betaken himself to the lately desertedroom, with the grated windows, and he implored me to endeavour toallure him from it. I wrote a card instantly, informing him I waitedbreakfast for him, and that I had a new book for his perusal. Itsucceeded; but I was shocked to see the effects of one night'sdisturbance of that mind, which we had exultingly seen settling intotranquillity. He was shivering and languid, and told his wife hehad taken cold; but she perceived, as well as myself, that he wasdispirited and extremely nervous. Nothing can equal this woman! Tosee her at this moment, I could not but love her. She was calm andcheerful; sooth[Pg 5]ing and tender; whilst in a thousand various waysshe diverted his attention; and although I knew she had watched atMiss Flint's bedside from three o'clock, she did not name her, nordid she appear fatigued. I took my turn to be good, and, dismissingher, said, that as I had also a cold, the valetudinarians would havebut one infirmary; that she might dispose of Mrs. Allen, for we meantto be in the sullens and read. Sir Murdock raised his dejected head;the eye was animated, and I was contented. I took my work and placedbefore him the Vicar of Wakefield. "Shall I not read it aloud?" askedhe.—"No," replied I, "unless you find a passage that particularlystrikes you." He bowed, for Sir Murdock Maclairn is the truly politeman. I soon perceived that his attention was engaged. Whose is not,Lucy, by that work? This made me happy; yes, happy, I repeat, for Ireverence this in[Pg 6]teresting man; and I believe there is a fatal griefwhich will, whilst he lives, oppress his mind. Mrs. Allen soon joinedus; she was also the invalid; but it slackened not her industry. Shetook up your hearth-rug. Her dose of camphor-julap went round, andGoldsmit