THE CHILDREN OF THE ABBEY. A Tale. IN FOUR VOLUMES. BY REGINA MARIA ROCHE, AUTHOR OF THE HOUSES OF OSMA AND ALMERIA, TRECOTHICK BOWER, THE CHILDREN OF THE ABBEY. CHAP. I. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn; No more shall rouse him from his lowly bed. GRAT. THE weakness which Amanda felt in consequence of her late illness, and the excessive sickness she always suffered at sea, made her retire to bed imme diately on entering the packet, where she continued till the evening of the second day, when, about five o'clock, she was landed at the Marine Hotel. She directly requested the waiter to procure her a messenger to go into town, which being done, she sent to engage a place in the northern mail-coach, that went within a few miles of Castle Carberry. If a place could not be procured, she ordered a chaise might be hired, that would immediately set out with her, as the nights were moonlight; but, to her great VOL. III. B joy, joy, the man speedily returned, and informed her he had secured a seat in the coach, which she thought a much safer mode of travelling for her, than in a hired carriage without any attendant. She took some slight refreshment, and then proceeded to the mail hotel; from whence, at eleven o'clock, she set out, who very com. in company with one old gentleman, posedly put on a large woollen night-cap, buttoned up his gieat-coat, and fell into a profound sleep: he was, perhaps, just such a kind of companion as Amanda desired, as he neither teazed her with insipid conversation, or impertinent questions, but left her undisturbed to indulge her meditations during the journey. The second evening, about eight o'clock, she arrived at the nearest town to Castle Carberry, for which she directly procured a chaise, and set off. She dreaded Her spirits were painfully agitated. the shock her father would receive from hearing of her sufferings, which it would be impossible to conceal from him: she trembled at what they would both Sometimes she feel on the approaching interview. feared he had already heard of her distress, and a gloomy presage rose in her mind, of the anguish she should find him in on that account. Yet again, when the reflected on the fortitude he had hitherto displayed in his trials, under the present, she trusted he would not lose it; and that he would not only support himself, but her, and bind up those wounds in her heart which perfidy, cruelty, and ingratitude had made.— And oh!" thought she to herself, "when I find myself myself again in his arms, no temptation shall allure me from them-allure me into a world where my peace and fame have already suffered such a wreck." -Thus alternately fluctuating between hope and fear, Amanda pursued the road to Castle Carberry; but the latter sensation was predominant in her mind. The uncommon gloominess of the evening added to her dejection: the dark and lowering clouds threa tened a violent storm; already a shower of sleet and rain was falling, and every thing looked cold and cheerless. Amanda thought the cabins infinitely more wretched than when she had first seen them; many of their miserable inhabitants were now gathering their little stock together, and driving them under shelter from the coming storm. The labourers were seen hastening to their respective homes, whilst the plough-boy, with a low and melancholy whistle, drove his slow and wearied team along. The sea looked rough and black; and, as Amanda drew nearer to it, she heard it breaking with fury against the rocks. She felt herself extremely ill she had left the hamlet ere her fever was subdued; and fatigue, joined to want of rest, now brought it back with all its former violence. She longed for rest and quiet, and trusted and believed these would conquer her malady. The chaise stopped at the entrance of the lawn, as she wished to have her father prepared for her arrival by one of the servants. On alighting from it, B 2 it |