CHAPTER VII. Our dying friends, come o'er us like a cloud, YOUNG. THREE nights and three days, did those loving watchers keep their stations in Lord Herbert's room; but after his first interview with his wife and child, a stupor came on, from which he never was aroused till about three hours before he breathed his last. Silence reigned in that chamber of death; though the inward prayer was unceasingly raised for a commutation of the sentence that had gone forth. In the short interval of consciousness which was allowed to Lord Herbert, he felt that his wife and child were near him, unaltered in duty, unaltered in affection; but the remorse of knowing how ill he had requited them, were the thongs and goads of retributive justice, which rendered his last moments doubly painful-the only source from whence he might have derived consolation was unknown to him. Lord Herbert sought this power of refuge when it was too late to find it upon earth. Let no one deceive themselves: that which we do not practise habitually, that which we do not seek daily, will not be found at the hour of need, unless by a miracle in our favour; and who has a right to expect miracles should be wrought especially for them? if they neglect all those which have been already wrought, all those means pointed out as the only ones given to mortals, whereby they may be saved, who can say they will at an extremity be so favoured? that which we neglect or contemn in prosperity, in adversity will contemn us; those blemishes and errors which we think are incident to human infirmity, and for which we erroneously flatter ourselves we have no individual responsibility, are in fact, the items which make up the whole of character, and the dying man, is too frequently what the living man has prepared him to become. Lady Herbert tried to speak peace to his parting soul, but that power is not delegated to mortal; and all that remained for her to do in this solemn scene was, to lift her thoughts on high; she had need of aid herself, for the door suddenly opened, and Anna Clermont, her dress in disorder, her hair dishevelled, with the frantic demeanour of a mad-woman, rushed to Lord Herbert, threw herself on his bed, uttering mingled blasphemies and frantic expressions of passion, which made her more like a fury than a woman. There was a rush from the attendants to take her forcibly away-there was a yell from that wretched woman, and a fearful groan from the dying man, and a mingled sense of horror and confusion in those most interested in this fearful scene. But when Anna Clermont was torn away from grasping the form of Lord Herbert, that form was lifeless. What followed was a harrowing up of all the tender sentiments of human nature:-the speechless grief of the widow, the gushing tears of the fatherless child-the concern of all present-this house of mourning was a more than common scene of wo. Lord de Montmorenci had taken upon him the unthankful task of disposing of Miss Clermont for the present. Her paroxysms of passionate grief were wild and horrible; nothing quenched their violence but literal inability to utter from exhaustion. So leaving her under proper medical care, he endeavoured to dismiss that guilty being from his thoughts; and he was the more readily enabled to do so, by the melancholy duties which devolved upon him. To sum up the measure of this tragedy, no sooner had Sir Charles Lennard received tidings of the death of Lord Herbert, than he came direct to Dieppe, he met the body and funeral attendants as it was being conveyed on board of ship, to be deposited at Moreton. This man had the cool audacity, the hard, unfeeling cruelty, to say to Lord de Montmorenci, "This is a sad farewell to all Herbert's greatness; but, considering how very nearly he ruined me, I think I might have been consulted as to all these unnecessary expenses, for every thing that was his, is mine, and, in fact, it is I who must pay for this ostentatious ceremony." "Whatever may be the case in respect to your claims, Sir Charles, on Lord Herbert's estates, I request you may understand that, in regard to the particular cost of these last rites, I am myself responsible for them." Sir Charles Lennard bowed sarcastically, and said, in an affected tone of voice, "To be the widow's stay, and the orphan's support, is a most praiseworthy character." Lord de Montmorenci turned away in silent disdain; but wrote a letter explaining, that, in right of guardian to Miss Herbert, he should appoint lawyers to examine into Sir Charles's demands upon her late father's property, and that he would protect her rights, not only as he was bound to do by his acceptance of that trust, but from the long friendship he had borne her father, he should ever look upon her as if she were his own child. The wicked are generally easily silenced by the upright. Sir Charles Lennard evaded giving any reply to this letter; but he addressed one to Lady Herbert, which was a mixture of protecting kindness and arrogant supremacy, that at another time would have wounded and mortified her beyond expression: now, she heeded it not. The letter began, by asserting, that Lord Herbert's whole property was under his subjection for the payment of enormous sums of money which he had lent to him at play; and then proceeded to declare, that the great admiration he entertained for her, would make it impossible for him to do any thing which could offend her, and while the affairs pending in law would prevent her being able to occupy either Moreton or the house in town, he begged as the greatest favour she could do him, that she would accept of his house in Green-street, and consider it her own, till such time as she should form plans for her future residence. Lady Herbert commissioned Lord de Montmorenci to return her thanks, and decline all Sir Charles's offers. But she asked, "Have I then no shelter for myself and child, is there none left?" Lord de Montmorenci did not give a direct answer, but only replied, "Will you, Lady Herbert, accept Fairfield, for the moment, till such time as I can examine into all matters of business, and make known to you the results." It was quite the same to Lady Herbert where she went, in these first moments of her bereavement; only she instinctively cast off all offers of service made by Sir Charles Lennard, and she replied, "that she would gladly avail herself of Lord de Montmorenci's offer." This was settled before leaving Dieppe, and she set out on her melancholy return to England, in the vessel which conveyed her husband's remains to their last resting-place. The mournful dress of a widow, its heavy texture, like a pall that covers the dead, its destitution of any thing like grace, seems to give it a grace, and lend it a sanctity, and interest, which even when worn by the aged and the ordinary, in personal beauty, invests them with peculiar charms. On Lady Herbert, who was still beautiful, though faded, her slender figure clad in this sombre garb, acquired fresh claims on the beholder's heart; clad in these weeds of sadness, it was impossible not to take a part in her sorroweven the most indifferent-even the light and frivolous, paused a moment in their career of pleasure, to say and to feel," Poor Lady Herbert!" The first stunning blow of grief is not the mourner's worst pang; it is afterwards, when the long roll of sorrow is unfurled, replete with recollections of the past-it is the contrast of misery with joy-it is the recollection of blooming hopes and expectations which are cut off, compared with the present utter dearth of hope, or the expectation of any coming joy, which traces as it were a map of misery before our eyes, over which we know our lone footsteps must travel the pilgrimage of life, and leaves the heart an utter wreck. As Lady Herbert sat upon the deck of the vessel, which was freighted with the dead, such were the mournful Occupations of her mind. Still one of her arms rested on her child, and as she pressed her to her breast, a tie of affection still bound her to life. The arid destiny, which for a moment before, she had traced out as being that which she was ordained to pass, was, in a moment, converted to one, which might receive a reflected light from the happiness of another: immediately there was a pause in her sorrow, and she wept "softer tears, heaved gentler sighs." Lord de Montmorenci managed every arrangement, so as to spare her, in as much as possible, all those details of wo, which are so offensive to a bereaved heart, and she found herself with her child, safely placed in his villa, with every comfort around her that could mitigate her desolate situation. He besought her to think only of herself and Miss Herbert, and to rally her excellent and pious mind, to assist her in the task of resignation; whilst, on his part, he would look to her worldly interests, and not suffer any thing to be finally settled without consulting her wishes. While the injured and the sorrowing were thus mercifully dealt with, the miserable occasion of the tragedy was undergoing the penalty of her crime, without consolation of any sort. She raved for hours together, and then sunk alternately into a state of moody stupor. There is no human being (bearing the human form) which owns not some indication of its divine artificer; and there is no heart so utterly deprived of all feeling of humanity, that will not at times emit a spark of its heavenly origin. Sir Charles Lennard knew that he had, on the one hand, instigated Lord Herbert to the rash deed of ruining himself and this wretched girl; whilst, on the other, he had artfully encouraged the latter to yield to her passion, and entrap the weak and wicked Lord Herbert. Yes, he had for years watched the progress of his machinations to this effect, with the double motive of obtaining Lord Herbert's fortune, and seducing his wife's affections. Foiled as he had been in the latter design, he had but too successfully wrought on the former, and he beheld one of the victims of his atrocity, without a friend, without a shelter, without means to procure the common necessaries of life, and in a state of mind which promised nothing but derangement of intellect, cast as it were upon his mercy. And he showed her mercy. There is seldom a monster in human form. As Sir Charles had predicted, Lord Herbert's elopement was a nine days' wonder, amongst the gay, heedless circle, in which he had run his course, and by the world in general it was not even known; so little does the life of one individual affect the general weal. Indeed, ere the ninth day, arrived the news was stale, so quickly does one event supersede another in the busy theatre of London. No one mentioned the occurrence any more, except, perhaps, some humble follower of the family, living at a distance from the metropolis, who had not heard the tidings till long after the event happened. Of how little matter does any thing appear which occurs in private life, to persons who do so judge of the value of existence. The honour and peace of families and individuals, may be overthrown, destroyed, the individuals themselves may disappear from society, and it will not disturb one feature of their worldly friends, cer |