the duty which Adeline had imposed upon herself, would too painfully task her affections. It was, therefore, with sensations of the most heartfelt delight that he beheld her once more sheltered in the cottage of the Rye; nor, though anxious for a longer interview, could he avoid assenting to the propriety of the measure, when Mr. Walsingham, fearful that the distress of mind which she had undergone, might prove too severe a trial for her delicate frame, consigned her, after a few parting words of kindness and consolation, to the care of Mrs. Sedley for the night. Sleep, the kind restorer of exhausted nature, seldom fails to sooth the sorrows of that bosom where conscious innocence resides; and when Adeline re-appeared the ensuing morning, it was highly gratifying to Mr. Walsingham to perceive, that not only had she recovered in a great degree from the fatigue of the preceding day, but that the violence of her affliction had given way to the suggestions of hope and resignation. Scarcely, however, had they sate down to breakfast, and had commenced some interesting conversation on the loss which they had so 244 lately sustained, when a servant, purporting to have come from His Grace of Buckingham, requested to see Mr. Walsingham. On his admission he presented a letter from the Duke, and being asked if he came from the Castle, replied that his master was confined by illness at the house of one of his tenants at Kirby Moorside, and was thought to be in extreme danger. The circumstance surprised Mr. Walsingham, and on enquiring further, he learnt, that the Duke had some days before caught a cold and ague, by imprudently sitting on the wet ground after a fox-chase, and that the whole of yesterday he had been unable to leave his bed from the violence of the fever.* The truth, in fact, was, that his Grace, in consequence of the unbounded extravagance in which he had so long indulged, had been for some time reduced to great poverty; that but the week before, he had been deserted by all his former friends, and nearly the whole of his dependants, and had fled for refuge to the wretch * That this imprudence was actually the immediate cause of the Duke's death, may be learnt from his various biographers. ed tenement in which he now lay, and where, until the preceding day, he had endeavoured to lose the sense of his misery, by an almost continued and inordinate pursuit of the chace. These, and further particulars, which were gradually elicited from the servant, and which served to paint, in strong colours, the extreme want and misery of this once opulent and powerful nobleman, had, notwithstanding their just abhorrence of his character, produced a deep sense of commiseration in the breasts both of Mr. Walsingham and Adeline, a feeling which was augmented to an almost painful degree of intensity by the import of the letter, which Mr. Walsingham now read aloud. It was directed to the Rev. David Walsingham, dated April the 14th, 1687, and ran as follows. * * This letter, which I have copied verbatim, with the exception of but a line and a half, distinguished by italics, from Mr. Hinderwell's "History and Antiquities of Scarborough," 4to edition, 1798. pp. 347-8-9, has been considered as authen. tic; though it appears to me, that the style is greatly superior to that of the specimens which we possess of the prose composition of Buckingham. The contrition, however, and the sentiments, which this document displays, are such as every good man will wish may have been those of his Grace at this momentous period of his life. "DEAR SIR, "I have reason to believe you to be a person of true virtue, and I know you to have a sound understanding; for, however I may have acted in opposition to the principles of religion or the dictates of reason, I can honestly assure you, I have always had a high veneration for both. The world and I shake hands; for, I dare affirm, we are heartily weary of each other. O, what a prodigal have I been of that most valuable of all possessions, time! I have squandered it away with a profusion unparalleled; and now, when the enjoyment of a few days would be worth the world, I cannot flatter myself with the prospect of half a dozen hours. How despicable is that man who never prays to his God but in the time of distress! In what manner can he supplicate that Omnipotent Being in his afflictions, whom, in the time of his prosperity, he never remembered with reverence? "Do not brand me with infidelity when I tell you that I am almost ashamed to offer up my petitions at the throne of grace, or to implore that divine mercy in the next world, which I have scandalously abused in this. "Shall ingratitude to man be looked upon as the blackest of crimes, and not ingratitude to God? "Shall an insult offered to the king be looked upon in the most offensive light, and yet no notice taken when the King of kings is treated with indignity and disrespect? "The companions of my former libertinism would scarcely believe their eyes were you to shew this epistle. They would laugh at me as a dreaming enthusiast, or pity me as a timorous wretch, who was shocked at the appearance of futurity; but whoever laughs at me for being right, or pities me for being sensible of my errors, is more entitled to my compassion than resentment. A future state may well enough strike terror into any man who has not acted well in this life; and he must have an uncommon share of courage, indeed, who does not shrink at the presence of God. The apprehensions of death will soon bring the most profligate to a proper use of his understanding. To what a situation am I now reduced! odious little hut a suitable lodging for a prince? Is this anxiety of mind becoming the character Is this |