<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER 13 </h2>
<p>"BY WATCHING my only visitor, my uncle's friend, or by some other means,
Mr. Venables discovered my residence, and came to enquire for me. The
maid-servant assured him there was no such person in the house. A bustle
ensued—I caught the alarm—listened—distinguished his
voice, and immediately locked the door. They suddenly grew still; and I
waited near a quarter of an hour, before I heard him open the parlour
door, and mount the stairs with the mistress of the house, who
obsequiously declared that she knew nothing of me.</p>
<p>"Finding my door locked, she requested me to open it, and prepare to go
home with my husband, poor gentleman! to whom I had already occasioned
sufficient vexation.' I made no reply. Mr. Venables then, in an assumed
tone of softness, intreated me, 'to consider what he suffered, and my own
reputation, and get the better of childish resentment.' He ran on in the
same strain, pretending to address me, but evidently adapting his
discourse to the capacity of the landlady; who, at every pause, uttered an
exclamation of pity; or 'Yes, to be sure—Very true, sir.'</p>
<p>"Sick of the farce, and perceiving that I could not avoid the hated
interview, I opened the door, and he entered. Advancing with easy
assurance to take my hand, I shrunk from his touch, with an involuntary
start, as I should have done from a noisome reptile, with more disgust
than terror. His conductress was retiring, to give us, as she said, an
opportunity to accommodate matters. But I bade her come in, or I would go
out; and curiosity impelled her to obey me.</p>
<p>"Mr. Venables began to expostulate; and this woman, proud of his
confidence, to second him. But I calmly silenced her, in the midst of a
vulgar harangue, and turning to him, asked, 'Why he vainly tormented me?
declaring that no power on earth should force me back to his house.'</p>
<p>"After a long altercation, the particulars of which, it would be to no
purpose to repeat, he left the room. Some time was spent in loud
conversation in the parlour below, and I discovered that he had brought
his friend, an attorney, with him.*</p>
<p>* In the original edition the paragraph following is<br/>
preceded by three lines of asterisks [Publisher's note].<br/></p>
<p>"The tumult on the landing place, brought out a gentleman, who had
recently taken apartments in the house; he enquired why I was thus
assailed?* The voluble attorney instantly repeated the trite tale. The
stranger turned to me, observing, with the most soothing politeness and
manly interest, that 'my countenance told a very different story.' He
added, 'that I should not be insulted, or forced out of the house, by any
body.'</p>
<p>* The introduction of Darnford as the deliverer of Maria, in<br/>
an early stage of the history, is already stated (Chap.<br/>
III.) to have been an after-thought of the author. This has<br/>
probably caused the imperfectness of the manuscript in the<br/>
above passage; though, at the same time, it must be<br/>
acknowledged to be somewhat uncertain, whether Darnford is<br/>
the stranger intended in this place. It appears from Chap.<br/>
XVII, that an interference of a more decisive nature was<br/>
designed to be attributed to him. EDITOR. [Godwin's note]<br/></p>
<p>"'Not by her husband?' asked the attorney.</p>
<p>"'No, sir, not by her husband.' Mr. Venables advanced towards him—But
there was a decision in his attitude, that so well seconded that of his
voice, * They left the house: at the same time protesting, that any one
that should dare to protect me, should be prosecuted with the utmost
rigour.</p>
<p>* Two and a half lines of asterisks appear here in the<br/>
original [Publisher's note].<br/></p>
<p>"They were scarcely out of the house, when my landlady came up to me
again, and begged my pardon, in a very different tone. For, though Mr.
Venables had bid her, at her peril, harbour me, he had not attended, I
found, to her broad hints, to discharge the lodging. I instantly promised
to pay her, and make her a present to compensate for my abrupt departure,
if she would procure me another lodging, at a sufficient distance; and
she, in return, repeating Mr. Venables' plausible tale, I raised her
indignation, and excited her sympathy, by telling her briefly the truth.</p>
<p>"She expressed her commiseration with such honest warmth, that I felt
soothed; for I have none of that fastidious sensitiveness, which a vulgar
accent or gesture can alarm to the disregard of real kindness. I was ever
glad to perceive in others the humane feelings I delighted to exercise;
and the recollection of some ridiculous characteristic circumstances,
which have occurred in a moment of emotion, has convulsed me with
laughter, though at the instant I should have thought it sacrilegious to
have smiled. Your improvement, my dearest girl, being ever present to me
while I write, I note these feelings, because women, more accustomed to
observe manners than actions, are too much alive to ridicule. So much so,
that their boasted sensibility is often stifled by false delicacy. True
sensibility, the sensibility which is the auxiliary of virtue, and the
soul of genius, is in society so occupied with the feelings of others, as
scarcely to regard its own sensations. With what reverence have I looked
up at my uncle, the dear parent of my mind! when I have seen the sense of
his own sufferings, of mind and body, absorbed in a desire to comfort
those, whose misfortunes were comparatively trivial. He would have been
ashamed of being as indulgent to himself, as he was to others. 'Genuine
fortitude,' he would assert, 'consisted in governing our own emotions, and
making allowance for the weaknesses in our friends, that we would not
tolerate in ourselves.' But where is my fond regret leading me!</p>
<p>"'Women must be submissive,' said my landlady. 'Indeed what could most
women do? Who had they to maintain them, but their husbands? Every woman,
and especially a lady, could not go through rough and smooth, as she had
done, to earn a little bread.'</p>
<p>"She was in a talking mood, and proceeded to inform me how she had been
used in the world. 'She knew what it was to have a bad husband, or she did
not know who should.' I perceived that she would be very much mortified,
were I not to attend to her tale, and I did not attempt to interrupt her,
though I wished her, as soon as possible, to go out in search of a new
abode for me, where I could once more hide my head.</p>
<p>"She began by telling me, 'That she had saved a little money in service;
and was over-persuaded (we must all be in love once in our lives) to marry
a likely man, a footman in the family, not worth a groat. My plan,' she
continued, 'was to take a house, and let out lodgings; and all went on
well, till my husband got acquainted with an impudent slut, who chose to
live on other people's means—and then all went to rack and ruin. He
ran in debt to buy her fine clothes, such clothes as I never thought of
wearing myself, and—would you believe it?—he signed an
execution on my very goods, bought with the money I worked so hard to get;
and they came and took my bed from under me, before I heard a word of the
matter. Aye, madam, these are misfortunes that you gentlefolks know
nothing of,—but sorrow is sorrow, let it come which way it will.</p>
<p>"'I sought for a service again—very hard, after having a house of my
own!—but he used to follow me, and kick up such a riot when he was
drunk, that I could not keep a place; nay, he even stole my clothes, and
pawned them; and when I went to the pawnbroker's, and offered to take my
oath that they were not bought with a farthing of his money, they said,
'It was all as one, my husband had a right to whatever I had.'</p>
<p>"'At last he listed for a soldier, and I took a house, making an agreement
to pay for the furniture by degrees; and I almost starved myself, till I
once more got before-hand in the world.</p>
<p>"'After an absence of six years (God forgive me! I thought he was dead) my
husband returned; found me out, and came with such a penitent face, I
forgave him, and clothed him from head to foot. But he had not been a week
in the house, before some of his creditors arrested him; and, he selling
my goods, I found myself once more reduced to beggary; for I was not as
well able to work, go to bed late, and rise early, as when I quitted
service; and then I thought it hard enough. He was soon tired of me, when
there was nothing more to be had, and left me again.</p>
<p>"I will not tell you how I was buffeted about, till, hearing for certain
that he had died in an hospital abroad, I once more returned to my old
occupation; but have not yet been able to get my head above water: so,
madam, you must not be angry if I am afraid to run any risk, when I know
so well, that women have always the worst of it, when law is to decide.'</p>
<p>"After uttering a few more complaints, I prevailed on my landlady to go
out in quest of a lodging; and, to be more secure, I condescended to the
mean shift of changing my name.</p>
<p>"But why should I dwell on similar incidents!—I was hunted, like an
infected beast, from three different apartments, and should not have been
allowed to rest in any, had not Mr. Venables, informed of my uncle's
dangerous state of health, been inspired with the fear of hurrying me out
of the world as I advanced in my pregnancy, by thus tormenting and
obliging me to take sudden journeys to avoid him; and then his
speculations on my uncle's fortune must prove abortive.</p>
<p>"One day, when he had pursued me to an inn, I fainted, hurrying from him;
and, falling down, the sight of my blood alarmed him, and obtained a
respite for me. It is strange that he should have retained any hope, after
observing my unwavering determination; but, from the mildness of my
behaviour, when I found all my endeavours to change his disposition
unavailing, he formed an erroneous opinion of my character, imagining
that, were we once more together, I should part with the money he could
not legally force from me, with the same facility as formerly. My
forbearance and occasional sympathy he had mistaken for weakness of
character; and, because he perceived that I disliked resistance, he
thought my indulgence and compassion mere selfishness, and never
discovered that the fear of being unjust, or of unnecessarily wounding the
feelings of another, was much more painful to me, than any thing I could
have to endure myself. Perhaps it was pride which made me imagine, that I
could bear what I dreaded to inflict; and that it was often easier to
suffer, than to see the sufferings of others.</p>
<p>"I forgot to mention that, during this persecution, I received a letter
from my uncle, informing me, 'that he only found relief from continual
change of air; and that he intended to return when the spring was a little
more advanced (it was now the middle of February), and then we would plan
a journey to Italy, leaving the fogs and cares of England far behind.' He
approved of my conduct, promised to adopt my child, and seemed to have no
doubt of obliging Mr. Venables to hear reason. He wrote to his friend, by
the same post, desiring him to call on Mr. Venables in his name; and, in
consequence of the remonstrances he dictated, I was permitted to lie-in
tranquilly.</p>
<p>"The two or three weeks previous, I had been allowed to rest in peace;
but, so accustomed was I to pursuit and alarm, that I seldom closed my
eyes without being haunted by Mr. Venables' image, who seemed to assume
terrific or hateful forms to torment me, wherever I turned.—Sometimes
a wild cat, a roaring bull, or hideous assassin, whom I vainly attempted
to fly; at others he was a demon, hurrying me to the brink of a precipice,
plunging me into dark waves, or horrid gulfs; and I woke, in violent fits
of trembling anxiety, to assure myself that it was all a dream, and to
endeavour to lure my waking thoughts to wander to the delightful Italian
vales, I hoped soon to visit; or to picture some august ruins, where I
reclined in fancy on a mouldering column, and escaped, in the
contemplation of the heart-enlarging virtues of antiquity, from the
turmoil of cares that had depressed all the daring purposes of my soul.
But I was not long allowed to calm my mind by the exercise of my
imagination; for the third day after your birth, my child, I was surprised
by a visit from my elder brother; who came in the most abrupt manner, to
inform me of the death of my uncle. He had left the greater part of his
fortune to my child, appointing me its guardian; in short, every step was
taken to enable me to be mistress of his fortune, without putting any part
of it in Mr. Venables' power. My brother came to vent his rage on me, for
having, as he expressed himself, 'deprived him, my uncle's eldest nephew,
of his inheritance;' though my uncle's property, the fruit of his own
exertion, being all in the funds, or on landed securities, there was not a
shadow of justice in the charge.</p>
<p>"As I sincerely loved my uncle, this intelligence brought on a fever,
which I struggled to conquer with all the energy of my mind; for, in my
desolate state, I had it very much at heart to suckle you, my poor babe.
You seemed my only tie to life, a cherub, to whom I wished to be a father,
as well as a mother; and the double duty appeared to me to produce a
proportionate increase of affection. But the pleasure I felt, while
sustaining you, snatched from the wreck of hope, was cruelly damped by
melancholy reflections on my widowed state—widowed by the death of
my uncle. Of Mr. Venables I thought not, even when I thought of the
felicity of loving your father, and how a mother's pleasure might be
exalted, and her care softened by a husband's tenderness.—'Ought to
be!' I exclaimed; and I endeavoured to drive away the tenderness that
suffocated me; but my spirits were weak, and the unbidden tears would
flow. 'Why was I,' I would ask thee, but thou didst not heed me,—'cut
off from the participation of the sweetest pleasure of life?' I imagined
with what extacy, after the pains of child-bed, I should have presented my
little stranger, whom I had so long wished to view, to a respectable
father, and with what maternal fondness I should have pressed them both to
my heart!—Now I kissed her with less delight, though with the most
endearing compassion, poor helpless one! when I perceived a slight
resemblance of him, to whom she owed her existence; or, if any gesture
reminded me of him, even in his best days, my heart heaved, and I pressed
the innocent to my bosom, as if to purify it—yes, I blushed to think
that its purity had been sullied, by allowing such a man to be its father.</p>
<p>"After my recovery, I began to think of taking a house in the country, or
of making an excursion on the continent, to avoid Mr. Venables; and to
open my heart to new pleasures and affection. The spring was melting into
summer, and you, my little companion, began to smile—that smile made
hope bud out afresh, assuring me the world was not a desert. Your gestures
were ever present to my fancy; and I dwelt on the joy I should feel when
you would begin to walk and lisp. Watching your wakening mind, and
shielding from every rude blast my tender blossom, I recovered my spirits—I
dreamed not of the frost—'the killing frost,' to which you were
destined to be exposed.—But I lose all patience—and execrate
the injustice of the world—folly! ignorance!—I should rather
call it; but, shut up from a free circulation of thought, and always
pondering on the same griefs, I writhe under the torturing apprehensions,
which ought to excite only honest indignation, or active compassion; and
would, could I view them as the natural consequence of things. But, born a
woman—and born to suffer, in endeavouring to repress my own
emotions, I feel more acutely the various ills my sex are fated to bear—I
feel that the evils they are subject to endure, degrade them so far below
their oppressors, as almost to justify their tyranny; leading at the same
time superficial reasoners to term that weakness the cause, which is only
the consequence of short-sighted despotism."</p>
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