Alida Part 52

Her first feelings were those of boundless joy....]

She was grieved to find her father had suffered much from indisposition during her absence. She endeavoured in vain, by every soothing attention, to recall him again to health and happiness. His malady increased daily, and he became a prey to infirmities, which at length confined him to his room.

[_Children of the Abbey_:

Lord Dunreath had long been a prey to infirmities, which at this period generally confined him to his room....]

The gladsome sensations of Albert were changed soon to those of melancholy, when he saw that his father was affected with a serious illness, and dejection supplied the place of more happy and animated feelings.

Alida, for several weeks, scarce left the apartment. One morning she perceived that he had altered very materially for the worse. It was only at intervals he could converse with her, and then his conversation was calculated to give her fort.i.tude and resignation, and prepare her mind for an approaching melancholy event, which, whenever she received the least hint of, her grief was inexpressible.

[_Children of the Abbey_:

Her father was considerably altered for the worse, and unable to rise, except for a few minutes in the evening, to have his bed made.

He complained of no pain or sickness, but seemed sinking beneath an easy and gradual decay. It was only at intervals he could converse with his daughter. His conversation was then calculated to strengthen her fort.i.tude and resignation, and prepare her for an approaching melancholy event. Whenever she received a hint of it, her agony was inexpressible....]

Her father observed her emotion. "Alida, my dear child," said he, "do not be alarmed, as I appear much worse than I am in reality at present;"

but she had drawn these words from the physician that morning, that his malady had increased greatly since the day before. Perceiving a visible change in his appearance, she scarcely left the room of her father till a late hour, when he, perceiving her almost fainting with fatigue, requested her to retire to rest. Albert supplied the place of his sister, and remained with his father, while the affectionate care of his only surviving son was grateful to the bosom of a fond parent.

[_Children of the Abbey_:

her father who saw her ill, and almost sinking with fatigue, requested her to retire to rest....]

The slumbers of Alida were broken, and fearing to leave her father too long, she arose very early next morning to attend him. He was evidently much worse next day, which was Sunday, and intimated that he wished all the family sent for. He then requested Alida to read some pa.s.sages in the bible, as was his daily custom.

"'Leave thy fatherless children to me and I will be their father,' what words of consolation are these," said he, "what transport do they convey to the heart of a parent, burthened with anxiety. Yes, divine Disposer,"

he exclaimed, "I will, with grateful joy, commit my children to thy kind care and protection."

[_Children of the Abbey_:

It was now Sunday, and he desired the service of the day to be read.

A small bible lay on the table before him, and Amanda complied with his desire. In the first lesson were these words: "Leave thy fatherless children to me, and I will be their father." The tears gushed from Fitzalan; he laid his hand, which appeared convulsed with agitation, on the book. "Oh! what words of comfort," cried he, "are these; what transport do they convey to the heart of a parent burthened with anxiety! Yes, merciful Power I will, with grateful joy, commit my children to thy care, for thou art the friend who wilt never forsake them."]

When the physician made his morning visit, as he was going to take leave, Alida asked his opinion. He shook his head, and seemed to give no hopes of recovery.

Her father requested her to be seated by the bedside. "My child," said he, "I wish to discourse a little with you. And could I again see Theodore, how gladly would I now receive him. I have deeply injured him," said he, "and my child too; and have inflicted a wound still deeper in my own bosom. I have often considered his piety and worth. His moral character was all that it should be. Superfluous wealth is not necessary to ensure earthly felicity, but a competency and contentment therewith, is all that is necessary to happiness."

[_A&M_ (Melissa's father to Alonzo):

"I have injured (said he) my young friend, deeply injured you, but in doing this I have inflicted a wound still deeper in my own bosom."]

"Do not renew your sorrows, dear father," said Alida, "what is past is beyond recall. Let us confide in a just over-ruling Providence, that disposes all material events for the wisest purposes." Her tears flowed in abundance, as her looks rested upon the visage of her father, and deep distress was depicted in her countenance.

[_Lives of Signers_: Samuel Adams of Ma.s.sachusetts:

He had been accustomed for years, to confide in a just over-ruling Providence....]

"My dear child," said her father, "weep not for me, think that rest must now be acceptable to the weary traveller, whose hopes are centred in the Redeemer, (as the only name under Heaven, whereby we can be saved,) and can leave the world in the joyful antic.i.p.ation of receiving those inestimable blessings, in a life to come, which the Gospel promises to every true believer."

[_Children of the Abbey_:

my Amanda, weep not too bitterly for me; like a weary traveller, think that rest must now be acceptable to me.]

He had scarcely uttered these words, when he sunk almost senseless upon his pillow. The greater part of the family now a.s.sembled round him. The physician came and gave no hopes of recovery. He faithfully watched over him the whole evening and a part of the night, and about twelve o'clock his family had the sorrow and misfortune to witness the distressful and trying scene. Their father was no more.

The distress, fatigue and agitation of Alida, could no longer be borne with, and for many weeks she was confined to her room. The loss of her parent and the terminating scene, had left her in deep affliction: all repose seemed fled forever, and bitter anguish had succeeded, and taken up its residence in her bosom. Reflections rose in her mind continually, that her situation had been heretofore comparatively happy, to what it at present afforded. An illness of short duration had suddenly deprived her of a very dear father, and she now felt herself a lonely, dejected orphan.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Could I trace back the time, a distant date, since my ancestors traversed these fields, and held possession of this wide domain.

The melancholy event had taken place, and Albert had lost his father.

His heavy and heartfelt affliction could not at this time be alleviated, and his mind was involved in gloom and sadness, which he endeavoured in vain to dissipate.

He was now deprived of the kind hand of a parent, who had used his endeavours to lead him in the way he should go, from his infancy: and a.s.sisted him with a kindly advice, and supplied him with a timely experience, and in the wisdom of whose salutary council, he could now no longer repose.

He felt himself deprived of this kind a.s.sistant, whose precepts had been his guide ever since the first dawning irradiations of reason had began to appear, to enlighten his mind, and with the eye of vigilance watched over him, endeavouring to trace out his good or evil propensities, and to point to the particular advantages on the one hand, and the baneful effects on the other, and to train his ideas to whatever was most commendable, and praiseworthy.

Albert had ever evinced a disposition pleasing to parental hopes and wishes, and flattering to a fond father's most sanguine antic.i.p.ations.

He was ever cheerful in complying with whatever he considered his duty, and conformable to the will of his interested parent.

He now revolved in his mind, and reflected what had heretofore been his particular wishes. It had long been the wish of his parent, that he should close his business in New-York, and settle himself on the paternal estate. He, therefore, was diligent in his endeavours to do this, as soon as his spirits would in any wise allow him to attend to these affairs, and at the commencement of the ensuing spring, he happily terminated his business in the city, and returned to the country.

[_Alida_ page 128 (chapter XVI):

He had imparted to his son his wish for him to close and settle his mercantile affairs in the city, (as the times were dreary,) and return to the paternal estate.]

[_Alida_ page 153 (chapter XX):

He had long wished him to close his affairs of business in the city, and settle himself on the paternal estate.]

The remembrance of his father for a long interval of time was in every object around and about the mansion, in which he was established, and reminded him of his bereavement, and he was affected with sorrowful meditations, and a borrowed serenity was manifested in his appearance.

He reflected on his present condition,--he would say, how desultory is the happiness of man, he lays plans of permanent felicity, when the whirlwind of affliction arrives, and destroys the towering edifice of creative hope, and his schemes of contentment are changed to disappointment and wo.

[_NY Weekly_: Mrs. Mordaunt:

How desultory are the schemes of man, he lays plans of permanent felicity, when the whirlwind of affliction arrives, and destroys the towering edifice of creative hope.]

He had taken possession of the paternal estate, which had for some years been the wish of his father. Like him he was fond of rural pleasures and amus.e.m.e.nts, and to dissipate care amid the diversified scenes of rustic life, afforded him satisfaction and pleasure.

[_Alida_ page 13 (chapter I):

The mind of its owner took particular delight in rural pleasures and amus.e.m.e.nts; in dissipating a part of his time in the innocent scenes of rustic life....]