Theodore then related to his father all the incidents that had happened in England, minutely particularizing his conduct with regard to the merchants with whom his father had been connected, and then presented him with the reversion of the estate.
The old gentleman fell on his knees, and with tears streaming down his cheeks, offered devout thanks to the great Dispenser of all mercies.
In the meantime, the illness of Bonville had increased to an alarming degree. He sent for Theodore. He thought it his duty to attend the summons. When he arrived at the house of Bonville he was shown immediately into his apartment. He was surprised to see him stretched on a mattra.s.s, his visage pale and emaciated, his countenance haggard, his eyes inexpressive and glaring. He held out his hand and feebly beckoned to Theodore, who immediately approached the bed-side.
"You behold me, Theodore," said he, "on the verge of eternity. I have but a short time to continue in this world." He evidently appeared to have suffered much from the remembrance of his ungenerous conduct towards Theodore.
"I have caused much unhappiness between you and your Alida," said Bonville, "to which you will scarcely think it possible that I was designedly accessory." He then confessed to Theodore that he had intercepted his letters, and begged his forgiveness. "I could say much more on the subject would my strength admit," said he, "but it is needless." Here Bonville ceased. Theodore found he wanted rest; medical aid had been applied, but without effect. Theodore then left him, promising to call again next morning.
He was startled at the confession of Bonville; he felt at first indignant, and meditated what course to pursue. After due reflection, he at length made the decision.
His devotions to Alida he did not wonder at. The pride of parental attachment and nature had graced her with every charm and accomplishment. He at length determined to cast a veil of pity over the actions of Bonville, and not to upbraid him, but to treat his past conduct with silent contempt, and endeavour as far as possible, to bury the remembrance of his errors in oblivion. He called to see him next morning; he perceived an alarming alteration in his appearance. He was cold--a chilling sweat stood upon his face, his respiration was short and interrupted, his pulse weak and intermitting. He took the hand of Theodore and feebly pressed it. He soon fell into a stupor; sensation became suspended. Sometimes a partial revival would take place, when he would fall into incoherent muttering, calling on the names of his deceased father, mother, and Alida. Towards night he lay silent, and only continued to breathe with difficulty, when a slight convulsion gave his freed spirit to the unknown regions of existence. Theodore attended his funeral, and then journeyed on to the dwelling of Albert. He informed Alida of the death of Bonville, and of his confession.
At the mention of Bonville"s fate, she sighed deeply. "It is true," said she, "he has perplexed me with many vain fears, by misrepresentation, but could he have lived, I would freely have forgiven him."
He evidently fell a victim to disappointed pride and remorse at the remembrance of his own baseness.
CHAPTER x.x.xIV.
In the Almighty Power he placed his trust, Through all the changing scenes of deep distress; His fortune now is better than before; Again the Omniscient Hand has deigned to bless.
Theodore"s father was soon in complete re-possession of his former property. The premises from which he had been driven by his creditors, were yielded up without difficulty, to which he immediately removed. He not only recovered the princ.i.p.al of the fortune he had lost, but the damages, with the interest; so that, although like Job, he had seen affliction, like him, his latter days were better than the beginning.
Like him, he reposed faith and confidence in his Maker, who had secretly supported him in his misfortunes; and who now, like a cheering sun dispersing the surrounding gloom, again gladdened his heart with returning peace and prosperity. Wearied of the business of life, he did not again enter into its affairs, but placing his money at interest in safe hands, he lived retired on his estate.
It was also the decided choice of Theodore and Alida to reside in the country. The calm and serene pleasures of retirement were particularly interesting to both, and they were now supremely blest in each other"s society.
The parents of Theodore rejoiced at their present happiness, and took upon themselves the necessary preparations for their nuptials, which were to take place as soon as all was in readiness for this happy event.
No cross purposes stood ready to intervene, to disturb their repose or interrupt their tranquillity. It was at that season when nature was arrayed in her richest ornaments, and adorned with her sweetest fragrance. Silk-winged breezes played amidst the flowers, and birds of every description carolled their song in varying strains. The air was clear and salubrious, and the scene enchanting.
And now, reader of sensibility, indulge the pleasing sensations of thy bosom, at the approaching union of Theodore and Alida. To our hero and heroine, the rural charms of the country furnished a source of pleasing variety. Spring, with its verdant fields and flowery meads--summer, with its embowering shades--the fertility of autumn, with its yellow foliage--winter, with its hollow blasts and snowy mantle, all tended to fill their bosoms with sensations of pleasing transition.
Their religious principles were the same. They were a constant a.s.sistance to each other in the fulfilment of their pious duties, truly endeavouring to follow the life of the Redeemer, who taught by his example and practice, what he required of us. a.s.siduously cultivating those innate Christian principles and perfections, best calculated to promote the praise and glory of G.o.d, and whereby we may obtain the everlasting favour of that ineffable Disposer of all things, in whom we live, and move, and have our being.
But soon a mournful shade was thrown over their peaceful tranquillity and happy antic.i.p.ations; and manifest was their grief, when they received the dreadful intelligence that Mr. More had committed suicide.
At the news of this rash and sinful action, they were thrown into an abyss of sorrow, the painful remembrance of which, for a long time, threw a dark and melancholy cloud over their felicity.
It is to be regretted that a spirit of religion and philosophy had not been more duly exercised in the mind of Mr. More, that at length by patience and resignation, he might have been brought to see how vain and transitory are all these things; and thereby have been led to look for permanent happiness to a n.o.bler source.
POEMS.
HYMN.
O Thou, Creator of my frame, Thy righteous pow"r display; May"st Thou direct my wand"ring ways, Nor let me ever stray.
Thy mercy still to me impart, And thy blest spirit give; Kindly sustain my drooping hopes, And all my strength revive.
Guide me by Thy protecting hand, Incline the will to thee; Endue me with Thy heav"nly grace, From earth"s allurements free.
May true devotion in my breast Still fix my thoughts on heaven; While I the song of tribute raise, For every blessing given.
CHRISTIAN INSt.i.tUTE.
"Be doubly blest th" auspicious day The edifice was plann"d; And may immortal gifts repay The founder"s lib"ral hand:"
Angels with joy beheld it rise, To train immortals for the skies.
How sweet to mark the artless throng, To hear the ingenuous youth, Raise with one voice the infant song, And learn the word of truth.
"Delightful work his path to trace, Who died to save our ruined race."
"Now, Fancy, o"er life"s little span Glances her busy eyes, And sees them bear the name of man, Industrious, good, and wise:"
Bids them each useful art employ, Antic.i.p.ates their future joy.
With ardent zeal some students may From hence arise and shine, To wipe the orphan"s tears away, And heal with balm divine; "With winning eloquence to tell, What glories in Emmanuel dwell."
Some of the little ones may live To adorn their country"s name; "Indulgent heav"n by them may give Fresh l.u.s.tre to her fame.
Some may the blessed Gospel bear, To distant lands, and plant it there."
And many to this favour"d spot, On G.o.d"s eventful day, O happy, enviable lot, Grateful shall point and say, "There--there--to us the bliss was given, To seek and find the path to heaven."
FRIENDSHIP.
"Oh, give me the friend, from whose warm, faithful breast, The sigh breathes responsive to mine; Where my cares may obtain the soft pillow of rest, And my sorrows may love to recline."
Not the friend who my hours of pleasure will share, But abide not the season of grief; Who flies from the brow that is darken"d by care, And the silence that looks for relief.
Not the friend who suspicious of change or of guile, Would shrink from a confidence free; Nor him who with fondness complacent can smile, On the eye that looks coldly on me.
"As the mirror that"s just to each blemish or grace, To myself will my image reflect; But to none but myself will that image retrace, Nor picture one absent defect."
To myself let my friend be a mirror as true, Thus my faults from all others conceal, Nor ever when absent those foibles renew, "That from heav"n and from man he should veil."
TO MARIA.
If sense and complacence their charms combine, To make each grace with double l.u.s.tre shine-- If mind serene, and innocently gay, Makes life compare with an unclouded day:
And piety thy guide, whose gentle pow"r, To calm each thought, and brighten ev"ry hour; Then thou, Maria, much esteem"d must be, These happy traits are all combined in thee.