Barford Abbey eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 210 pages of information about Barford Abbey.

Barford Abbey eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 210 pages of information about Barford Abbey.

It was I, said Mr. Morgan, rubbing his sides, and expressing the agitation of joy by dumb shew;—­it was I, beating one of my damn’d dogs for running up stairs.

If that is all, said Mr. Powis,—­let us return to my mother and wife, who are much hurried.—­Away we went together, and the affair of the dog pass’d very well on the Ladies.

I sat musing for some moments how to introduce the event my heart labour’d to give up.—­Every sigh that escap’d,—­every sorrowful look that was interchang’d, I now plac’d to my own account, because in my power to reverse the scene.

Addressing myself to Mr. Powis, I ask’d if he knew Lord Darcey’s servant was below.—­He shook his head;—­No, he answer’d.—­Then it is all over, Risby, I suppose in a low voice?—­I hardly wish for his own sake he may recover:—­for ours, it would be selfish.

He was not worse, I reply’d:—­there was hope,—­great hope he would do well.

Blessings attend him! cried Mrs. Powis.—­tears starting afresh to her swoln eyes;—­then you really think, Mr. Risby, he may recover?

If he does, Madam, return’d! he is flatter’d into life.—­Flatter’d! said Mr. Powis eagerly;—­how flatter’d?

Why, continued I, he has been told some persons are sav’d from the wreck.

Up they all started, surrounding me on every side:—­there seem’d but one voice, yet each ask’d if I credited the report.

I said I did.—­

Down they dropp’d on their knees, praying with uplifted hands their dear,—­dear child may be of the number.—­Though nothing could equal the solemnity of this scene, I could scarce command my countenance, when I saw Mr. Morgan standing in the midst of the circle, his hat held up before his face, and a cane under his arm.

As they rose from their knees,—­I gave them all the consolation I thought at that moment they were capable of sustaining;—­and assur’d them no vigilance would be wanting to come at particulars.—­I was ask’d, if there was any letter from Mr. Molesworth?—­When answer’d in the affirmative,—­the next question was, if it related to what I had just disclos’d?—­I equivocated in my reply, and withdrew to write the few unconnected lines sent by John.

After he was dispatch’d, I return’d immediately to the hopeing,—­fearing family.—­Mr. Watson was sitting amidst them:—­he seem’d like a Being of purity presiding over hearts going to be rewarded for resignation to the Divine will.

He heard me as I enter’d:  he rose from his seat as I came near him, and pressing one of my hands between both his, whisper’d, I have seen Mr. Morgan.—­Then raising his voice, You are the messenger of joy, Mr. Risby;—­complete the happiness you have begun:—­all present, pointing round, are prepar’d to receive it.

Here drops my pen.—­I must not attempt this scene:—­a Shakespeare would have wrote it in tears.

How infinite,—­how dazzling the beauty of holiness!—­Affliction seems to have threaten’d this amiable family, only to encrease their love,—­their reverence,—­their admiration of Divine Omnipotence.—­Blessings may appear, as a certain great man remarks, under the shape of pain, losses, and disappointments;—­but let us have patience, and we shall see them in their own proper figures.

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Barford Abbey from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.