de combat, why there let him lie—until I want him again.
Doctor Beddington returned home long before the recovery of Mrs. Forster from her severe attack. As it may be presumed, he found her perfectly rational; but still he had no doubt of the assertions of his keepers, that she was insane at the time that she was sent to the asylum by Mr. Ramsden. The latter gentleman kept aloof until the issue of Mrs. Forster’s malady should be ascertained: if she recovered, it was his intention to call upon Doctor Beddington and explain the circumstances; if she died, he had determined to say nothing about it. Mrs. Forster’s recovery was tedious; her mind was loaded with anxiety, and, what was infinitely more important, with deep remorse. The supposed death of Mr. Spinney had been occasioned by her violence, and she looked forward with alarm, as great as the regret with which she looked back upon her former behaviour. When she called to mind her unfeeling conduct towards her husband—the many years of bitterness she had created for him, her infraction of the marriage vow—the solemn promise before God to love, honour, and obey, daily and hourly violated—her unjust hatred of her only son—her want of charity towards others—all her duties neglected—swayed only by selfish and malignant passions—with bitter tears of contrition and self-abasement, she acknowledged that her punishment was just. With streaming eyes, with supplicating hands and bended knees, she implored mercy and forgiveness of Him, to whom appeal is never made in vain. Passion’s infuriate reign was over—her heart was changed!
To Doctor Beddington she made neither complaint nor explanation. All she wished was to quit the asylum as soon as she was restored to health, and prove to her husband, by her future conduct, the sincerity of her reformation. When she became convalescent, by the advice of Doctor Beddington, she walked in a garden appropriated for the exercise of the more harmless inmates of the asylum. The first day that he went out she sat down upon a bench near to the keepers, who were watching those who were permitted to take the air and exercise, and overheard their discourse, which referred to herself.
“Why, what was it as made her mad—d’ye know, Tom?”
“They say she’s been no better all her life,” replied the other; “a rat would not live in the house with her: at last, in one of her tantrums, she nearly murdered old Spinney, the clerk at Overton. The report went out that he was dead; and conscience, I suppose, or summut of that kind, run away with her senses.”
“Oh, he warn’t killed, then?”
“No, no: I seed him and heard him too, Sunday fore last, when I went to call upon old father; I was obligated to go to church, the old gemman’s so remarkable particular.”
“And what’s become of her husband, and that handsome young chap, her son?”
“I don’t know, nor nobody else either. The old man, who was as worthy an old soul as ever breathed (more shame to the old faggot, for the life she led him!) grew very unhappy and melancholy, and would not stay in the place: they disposed of every thing, and both went away together; but nobody knows where the old man is gone to.”
“And the young un?”
“Oh, he came back and took command of the sloop. He was here twice, to see how his mother was. Poor lad! it was quite pitiful to see how unhappy he was about the old catamaran. He give me and Bill a guinea apiece, to be kind to her; but, about three days back, the sloop came into the harbour without him: they suppose that he fell off the jetty at Bristol and was drowned for he was seen coming down to the boat; and, a’ter that, they never heard no more about him.”
“Well, but Tom, the old woman’s all right now?”
“Yes, she’s right enough; but, where be her husband, and where be her son? she’ll never plague them any more, that’s pretty sartain.”
The feelings of Mrs. Forster at the finale of this discourse are not easy to be portrayed. One heavy load was off her mind—Mr. Spinney was not dead; but how much had she also to lament? She perceived that she had been treacherously kidnapped by those who detested her conduct, but had no right to inflict the punishment. The kind and feeling conduct of her husband and of her son—the departure of the one, and supposed death of the other, were blows which nearly overwhelmed her. She tottered back to her cell in a state of such extreme agitation, as to occasion a return of fever, and for many days she was unable to quit her bed.
Volume One--Chapter Ten.
“When Britain first at Heaven’s command
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung the strain—
Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves,
For Britons never shall be slaves.”
We left Newton Forster senseless on the pavement leading to the quay at Bristol, floored by a rap on the head from a certain person or persons unknown: he did not however remain there long, being hoisted on the shoulders of two stout fellows, dressed in blue jackets and trousers, with heavy clubs in their hands, and a pistol lying perdu between their waistcoats and shirts. These nautical personages tumbled him into the stern-sheets of a boat, as if not at all sorry to rid themselves of his weight and, in a continued state of insensibility, Newton was hoisted up the side of a cutter which lay at anchor about one hundred yards from the shore.
When Newton recovered his senses, his swimming eyes could just enable him to perceive that something flashed upon them, and in their weak state created a painful sensation. As he became more collected, he discovered that a man was holding a small candle close to them, to ascertain whether the vein which had been opened in his arm had produced the desired effect of restoring him to animation. Newton tried to recollect where he was, and what had occurred; but the attempted exercise of his mental powers was too much, and again threw him into a state of stupor. At last he awoke as if from a dream of death, and looking round, found himself lying on the deck attended by a female, who bathed his forehead.
“Where am I?” exclaimed Newton.
“Is it where you are, that you’d want for to know? a’nt ye on board of the Lively cutter, sure? and a’nt you between decks in her, and I looking a’ter ye, honey?”
“And who are you?”
“And who am I! Then if I’m not somebody else, I’m Judy Malony, the wife of the boatswain’s mate, and a lawful married woman.”
“How did I come here?” continued Newton, raising himself on his elbow.
“You didn’t come at all, honey, you were brought.”
“Who brought me?”
“Who brought ye! it was either the gig or the jolly boat; but I wasn’t on deck at the time, so I can’t upon my oath say exactly which.”
“Then pray can you tell me why I was brought here?” replied Newton.
“Sure I can guess, bating you don’t know already. It was to sarve your king and your country, like a brave volunteer as you are.”
“Then I’m impressed?”
“You may take your Bible oath of
