_ Chapter III - In which Mr. Booth sets forward on his journey.
"Well, madam, we have now taken our leave of Amelia. I rode a full
mile before I once suffered myself to look back; but now being come to
the top of a little hill, the last spot I knew which could give me a
prospect of Mrs. Harris's house, my resolution failed: I stopped and
cast my eyes backward. Shall I tell you what I felt at that instant? I
do assure you I am not able. So many tender ideas crowded at once into
my mind, that, if I may use the expression, they almost dissolved my
heart. And now, madam, the most unfortunate accident came first into
my head. This was, that I had in the hurry and confusion left the dear
casket behind me. The thought of going back at first suggested itself;
but the consequences of that were too apparent. I therefore resolved
to send my man, and in the meantime to ride on softly on my road. He
immediately executed my orders, and after some time, feeding my eyes
with that delicious and yet heartfelt prospect, I at last turned my
horse to descend the hill, and proceeded about a hundred yards, when,
considering with myself that I should lose no time by a second
indulgence, I again turned back, and once more feasted my sight with
the same painful pleasure till my man returned, bringing me the
casket, and an account that Amelia still continued in the sweet sleep
I left her. I now suddenly turned my horse for the last time, and with
the utmost resolution pursued my journey.
"I perceived my man at his return--But before I mention anything of
him it may be proper, madam, to acquaint you who he was. He was the
foster-brother of my Amelia. This young fellow had taken it into his
head to go into the army; and he was desirous to serve under my
command. The doctor consented to discharge him; his mother at last
yielded to his importunities, and I was very easily prevailed on to
list one of the handsomest young fellows in England.
"You will easily believe I had some little partiality to one whose
milk Amelia had sucked; but, as he had never seen the regiment, I had
no opportunity to shew him any great mark of favour. Indeed he waited
on me as my servant; and I treated him with all the tenderness which
can be used to one in that station.
"When I was about to change into the horse-guards the poor fellow
began to droop, fearing that he should no longer be in the same corps
with me, though certainly that would not have been the case. However,
he had never mentioned one word of his dissatisfaction. He is indeed a
fellow of a noble spirit; but when he heard that I was to remain where
I was, and that we were to go to Gibraltar together, he fell into
transports of joy little short of madness. In short, the poor fellow
had imbibed a very strong affection for me; though this was what I
knew nothing of till long after.
"When he returned to me then, as I was saying, with the casket, I
observed his eyes all over blubbered with tears. I rebuked him a
little too rashly on this occasion. 'Heyday!' says I, 'what is the
meaning of this? I hope I have not a milk-sop with me. If I thought
you would shew such a face to the enemy I would leave you behind.'--
'Your honour need not fear that,' answered he; 'I shall find nobody
there that I shall love well enough to make me cry.' I was highly
pleased with this answer, in which I thought I could discover both
sense and spirit. I then asked him what had occasioned those tears
since he had left me (for he had no sign of any at that time), and
whether he had seen his mother at Mrs. Harris's? He answered in the
negative, and begged that I would ask him no more questions; adding
that he was not very apt to cry, and he hoped he should never give me
such another opportunity of blaming him. I mention this only as an
instance of his affection towards me; for I never could account for
those tears any otherwise than by placing them to the account of that
distress in which he left me at that time. We travelled full forty
miles that day without baiting, when, arriving at the inn where I
intended to rest that night, I retired immediately to my chamber, with
my dear Amelia's casket, the opening of which was the nicest repast,
and to which every other hunger gave way.
"It is impossible to mention to you all the little matters with which
Amelia had furnished this casket. It contained medicines of all kinds,
which her mother, who was the Lady Bountiful of that country, had
supplied her with. The most valuable of all to me was a lock of her
dear hair, which I have from that time to this worn in my bosom. What
would I have then given for a little picture of my dear angel, which
she had lost from her chamber about a month before! and which we had
the highest reason in the world to imagine her sister had taken away;
for the suspicion lay only between her and Amelia's maid, who was of
all creatures the honestest, and whom her mistress had often trusted
with things of much greater value; for the picture, which was set in
gold, and had two or three little diamonds round it, was worth about
twelve guineas only; whereas Amelia left jewels in her care of much
greater value."
"Sure," cries Miss Matthews, "she could not be such a paultry
pilferer."
"Not on account of the gold or the jewels," cries Booth. "We imputed
it to mere spite, with which, I assure you, she abounds; and she knew
that, next to Amelia herself, there was nothing which I valued so much
as this little picture; for such a resemblance did it bear of the
original, that Hogarth himself did never, I believe, draw a stronger
likeness. Spite, therefore, was the only motive to this cruel
depredation; and indeed her behaviour on the occasion sufficiently
convinced us both of the justice of our suspicion, though we neither
of us durst accuse her; and she herself had the assurance to insist
very strongly (though she could not prevail) with Amelia to turn away
her innocent maid, saying, she would not live in the house with a
thief."
Miss Matthews now discharged some curses on Miss Betty, not much worth
repeating, and then Mr. Booth proceeded in his relation. _