THIRD EXTRACT

’You ask me why I do not make known to my father that Brown yet lives, at least that he survived the wound he received in that unhappy duel, and had written to my mother expressing his entire convalescence, and his hope of speedily escaping from captivity.  A soldier, that “in the trade of war has oft slain men,” feels probably no uneasiness at reflecting upon the supposed catastrophe which almost turned me into stone.  And should I show him that letter, does it not follow that Brown, alive and maintaining with pertinacity the pretensions to the affections of your poor friend for which my father formerly sought his life, would be a more formidable disturber of Colonel Mannering’s peace of mind than in his supposed grave?  If he escapes from the hands of these marauders, I am convinced he will soon be in England, and it will be then time to consider how his existence is to be disclosed to my father.  But if, alas! my earnest and confident hope should betray me, what would it avail to tear open a mystery fraught with so many painful recollections?  My dear mother had such dread of its being known, that I think she even suffered my father to suspect that Brown’s attentions were directed towards herself, rather than permit him to discover their real object; and O, Matilda, whatever respect I owe to the memory of a deceased parent, let me do justice to a living one.  I cannot but condemn the dubious policy which she adopted, as unjust to my father, and highly perilous to herself and me.  But peace be with her ashes! her actions were guided by the heart rather than the head; and shall her daughter, who inherits all her weakness, be the first to withdraw the veil from her defects?’

Fourth extract ’Mervyn hall.

’If India be the land of magic, this, my dearest Matilda, is the country of romance.  The scenery is such as nature brings together in her sublimest moods-sounding cataracts—­hills which rear their scathed heads to the sky—­lakes that, winding up the shadowy valleys, lead at every turn to yet more romantic recesses—­rocks which catch the clouds of heaven.  All the wildness of Salvator here, and there the fairy scenes of Claude.  I am happy too in finding at least one object upon which my father can share my enthusiasm.  An admirer of nature, both as an artist and a poet, I have experienced the utmost pleasure from the observations by which he explains the character and the effect of these brilliant specimens of her power.  I wish he would settle in this enchanting land.  But his views lie still farther north, and he is at present absent on a tour in Scotland, looking, I believe, for some purchase of land which may suit him as a residence.  He is partial, from early recollections, to that country.  So, my dearest Matilda, I must be yet farther removed from you before I am established in a home.  And O how delighted shall I be when I can say, Come, Matilda, and be the guest of your faithful Julia!