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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Father and Daughter, by Amelia Opie

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Title: The Father and Daughter
       A Tale, in Prose

Author: Amelia Opie

Illustrator: R. A. Opie

Release Date: August 5, 2015 [EBook #49621]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER ***

Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan, Paul Dring & the
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THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER,

A Tale, in Prose.

By MRS. OPIE.

Thy sweet reviving smiles might cheer despair,
    On the pale lips detain the parting breath,
    And bid hope blossom in the shades of death.

MRS. BARBAULD.

_NINTH EDITION._

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR
    LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, BROWN, & GREEN,
    PATERNOSTER-ROW.

1824.

Printed by Richard Taylor,
    Shoe Lane, London.

[Illustration: ----"_she saw that he had drawn the shape of a coffin
and was then writing on the lid the name of Agnes._"----]

DEDICATION.

DR. ALDERSON OF NORWICH.

DEAR SIR,

In dedicating this Publication to you, I follow in some measure the
example of those nations who devoted to their gods the first fruits of
the genial seasons which they derived from their bounty.

To you I owe whatever of cultivation my mind has received; and the first
fruits of that mind to you I dedicate.

Besides, having endeavoured in "THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER" to exhibit a
picture of the most perfect parental affection, to whom could I dedicate
it with so much propriety as to you, since, in describing a good father,
I had only to delineate my own?

Allow me to add, full of gratitude for years of tenderness and
indulgence on your part, but feebly repaid even by every possible
sentiment of filial regard on mine, that the satisfaction I shall
experience if my Publication be favourably received by the world, will
not proceed from the mere gratification of my self-love, but from the
conviction I shall feel that my success as an Author is productive of
pleasure to you.

AMELIA OPIE.

_Berners Street_,
        1800.

THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

BY MRS. OPIE.

TO THE READER.

It is not without considerable apprehension that I offer myself as an
avowed Author at the bar of public opinion,--and that apprehension is
heightened by its being the general custom to give indiscriminately the
name of NOVEL to every thing in Prose that comes in the shape of a
Story, however simple it be in its construction, and humble in its
pretensions.

By this means, the following Publication is in danger of being tried by
a standard according to which it was never intended to be made, and to
be criticized for wanting those merits which it was never meant to
possess.

I therefore beg leave to say, in justice to myself, that I know "THE
FATHER AND DAUGHTER" is wholly devoid of those attempts at strong
character, comic situation, bustle, and variety of incident, which
constitute a NOVEL, and that its highest pretensions are, to be a
SIMPLE, MORAL TALE.

THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

A TALE.

The night was dark,--the wind blew keenly over the frozen and rugged
heath, when Agnes, pressing her moaning child to her bosom, was
travelling on foot to her father's habitation.

"Would to God I had never left it!" she exclaimed, as home and all its
enjoyments rose in fancy to her view:--and I think my readers will be
ready to join in the exclamation, when they hear the poor wanderer's
history.

Agnes Fitzhenry was the only child of a respectable merchant in a
country town, who, having lost his wife when his daughter was very
young, resolved for her sake to form no second connection. To the
steady, manly affection of a father, Fitzhenry joined the fond anxieties
and endearing attentions of a mother; and his parental care was amply
repaid by the love and amiable qualities of Agnes. He was not rich; yet
the profits of his trade were such as to enable him to bestow every
possible expense on his daughter's education, and to lay up a
considerable sum yearly for her future support: whatever else he could
spare from his own absolute wants, he expended in procuring comforts and
pleasures for her.--"What an excellent father that man is!" was the
frequent exclamation among his acquaintance--"And what an excellent
child he has! well may he be proud of her!" was as commonly the answer
to it.

Nor was this to be wondered at:--Agnes united to extreme beauty of face
and person every accomplishment that belongs to her own sex, and a great
degree of that strength of mind and capacity for acquiring knowledge
supposed to belong exclusively to the other.

For this combination of rare qualities Agnes was admired;--for
her sweetness of temper, her willingness to oblige, her seeming
unconsciousness of her own merits, and her readiness to commend the
merits of others,--for these still rarer qualities, Agnes was beloved:
and she seldom formed an acquaintance without at the same time securing
a friend.

Her father thought he loved her (and perhaps he was right) as never
father loved a child before; and Agnes thought she loved him as child
never before loved father.--"I will not marry, but live single for my
father's sake," she often said;--but she altered her determination when
her heart, hitherto unmoved by the addresses of the other sex, was
assailed by an officer in the guards who came to recruit in the town in
which she resided.

Clifford, as I shall call him, had not only a fine figure and graceful
address, but talents rare and various, and powers of conversation so
fascinating, that the woman he had betrayed forgot her wrongs in his
presence, and the creditor, who came to dun him for the payment of debts
already incurred, went away eager to oblige him by letting him incur
still more.

Fatal perversion of uncommon abilities! This man, who might have taught
a nation to look up to him as its best pride in prosperity and its best
hope in adversity, made no other use of his talents than to betray
the unwary of both sexes, the one to shame, the other to pecuniary
difficulties; and he whose mind was capacious enough to have imagined
schemes to aggrandize his native country, the slave of sordid
selfishness, never looked beyond his own temporary and petty benefit,
and sat down contented with the achievements of the day, if he had
overreached a credulous tradesman, or beguiled an unsuspecting woman.

But, to accomplish even these paltry triumphs, great knowledge of the
human heart was necessary,--a power of discovering the prevailing foible
in those on whom he had designs, and of converting their imagined
security into their real danger. He soon discovered that Agnes, who was
rather inclined to doubt her possessing in an uncommon degree the good
qualities which she really had, valued herself, with not unusual
blindness, on those which she had not. She thought herself endowed with
great power to read the characters of those with whom she associated,
when she had even not discrimination enough to understand her own: and,
while she imagined that it was not in the power of others to deceive
her, she was constantly in the habit of deceiving herself.

Clifford was not slow to avail himself of this weakness in his intended
victim; and, while he taught her to believe that none of his faults had
escaped her observation, with hers he had made himself thoroughly
acquainted.--But not content with making her faults subservient to his
views, he pressed her virtues also into his service; and her affection
for her father, that strong hold, secure in which Agnes would have
defied the most violent assaults of temptation, he contrived should be
the means of her defeat.

I have been thus minute in detailing the various and seducing powers
which Clifford possessed, not because he will be a principal figure in
my narrative,--for, on the contrary, the chief characters in it are the
Father and Daughter,--but in order to excuse as much as possible the
strong attachment which he excited in Agnes.

"Love," says Mrs. Inchbald, whose knowledge of human nature can be
equalled only by the humour with which she describes its follies, and
the unrivalled pathos with which she exhibits its distresses--"Love,
however rated by many as the chief passion of the heart, is but a poor
dependent, a retainer on the other passions--admiration, gratitude,
respect, esteem, pride in the object; divest the boasted sensation
of these, and it is no more than the impression of a twelvemonth,
by courtesy, or vulgar error, called love[1]."--And of all these
ingredients was the passion of Agnes composed. For the graceful person
and manner of Clifford she felt admiration; and her gratitude was
excited by her observing that, while he was an object of attention to
every one wherever he appeared, his attentions were exclusively directed
to herself; and that he who, from his rank and accomplishments, might
have laid claim to the hearts even of the brightest daughters of fashion
in the gayest scenes of the metropolis, seemed to have no higher
ambition than to appear amiable in the eyes of Agnes, the humble toast
of an obscure country town. While his superiority of understanding, and
brilliancy of talents, called forth her respect, and his apparent
virtues her esteem; and when to this high idea of the qualities of the
man was added a knowledge of his high birth and great expectations, it
is no wonder that she also felt the last-mentioned, and often perhaps
the greatest, excitement to love, "pride in the object."

[Footnote 1: Nature and Art, vol. i. p. 142.]

When Clifford began to pay those marked attentions to Agnes, which ought
always on due encouragement from the woman to whom they are addressed to
be followed by an offer of marriage, he contrived to make himself as
much disliked by the father as admired by the daughter: yet his
management was so artful, that Fitzhenry could not give a sufficient
reason for his dislike; he could only declare its existence; and for the
first time in her life Agnes learned to think her father unjust and
capricious.

Thus, while Clifford ensured an acceptance of his addresses from Agnes,
he at the same time secured a rejection of them from Fitzhenry; and this
was the object of his wishes, as he had a decided aversion to marriage,
and knew besides that marrying Agnes would disappoint all his ambitious
prospects in life, and bring on him the eternal displeasure of his
father.

At length, after playing for some time with her hopes and fears,
Clifford requested Fitzhenry to sanction with his approbation his
addresses to his daughter; and Fitzhenry, as he expected, coldly and
firmly declined the honour of his alliance. But when Clifford mentioned,
as if unguardedly, that he hoped to prevail on his father to approve the
marriage after it had taken place, if not before, Fitzhenry proudly told
him that he thought his daughter much too good to be smuggled into the
family of any one; while Clifford, piqued in his turn at the warmth of
Fitzhenry's expressions, and the dignity of his manner, left him,
exulting secretly in the consciousness that he had his revenge,--for he
knew that the heart of Agnes was irrecoverably his.

Agnes heard from her lover that his suit was rejected, with agonies as
violent as he appeared to feel.--"What!" exclaimed she, "can that
affectionate father, who has till now anticipated my wishes, disappoint
me in the wish nearest to my heart?" In the midst of her first agitation
her father entered the room, and, with "a countenance more in sorrow
than in anger" began to expostulate with her on the impropriety of the
connection which she was desirous of forming. He represented to her the
very slender income which Clifford possessed; the inconvenience to which
an officer's wife is exposed; and the little chance which there is for a
man's making a constant and domestic husband who has been brought up in
an idle profession, and accustomed to habits of intemperance, expense,
and irregularity:----

"But above all," said he, "how is it possible that you could ever
condescend to accept the addresses of a man whose father, he himself
owns, will never sanction them with his approbation?"

Alas! Agnes could plead no excuse but that she was in love, and she had
too much sense to urge such a plea to her father.

"Believe me," he continued, "I speak thus from the most disinterested
consideration of your interest; for, painful as the idea of parting with
you must be to me, I am certain I should not shrink from the bitter
trial, whenever my misery would be your happiness (Here his voice
faltered); but, in this case, I am certain that by refusing my consent
to your wishes I ensure your future comfort; and in a cooler moment you
will be of the same opinion."

Agnes shook her head, and turned away in tears.

"Nay, hear me, my child," resumed Fitzhenry, "you know that I am no
tyrant; and if, after time and absence have been tried in order to
conquer your unhappy passion, it remain unchanged, then, in defiance
of my judgement, I will consent to your marriage with Mr. Clifford,
provided his father consent likewise:--for, unless he do, I never
will:--and if you have not pride and resolution enough to be the
guardian of your own dignity, I must guard it for you; but I am sure
there will be no need of my interference: and Agnes Fitzhenry would
scorn to be clandestinely the wife of any man."

Agnes thought so too,--and Fitzhenry spoke this in so mild and
affectionate a manner, and in a tone so expressive of suppressed
wretchedness, which the bare idea of parting with her had occasioned
him, that, for the moment, she forgot every thing but her father, and
the vast debt of love and gratitude which she owed him; and throwing
herself into his arms she protested her entire, nay cheerful,
acquiescence in his determination.

"Promise me, then," replied Fitzhenry, "that you will never see Mr.
Clifford more, if you can avoid it: he has the tongue of Belial, and
if----"

Here Agnes indignantly interrupted him with reproaches for supposing her
so weak as to be in danger of being seduced into a violation of her
duty; and so strong were the terms in which she expressed herself, that
her father entreated her pardon for having thought such a promise
necessary.

The next day Clifford did not venture to call at the house, but he
watched the door till he saw Agnes come out alone. Having then joined
her, he obtained from her a full account of the conversation which she
had had with Fitzhenry; when, to her great surprise, he drew conclusions
from it which she had never imagined possible.

He saw, or pretended to see, in Fitzhenry's rejection of his offers, not
merely a dislike of her marrying him, but a design to prevent her
marrying at all; and as a design like this was selfish in the last
degree, and ought to be frustrated, he thought it would be kinder in her
to disobey her father then, and marry the man of her heart, than, by
indulging his unreasonable wishes on this subject once, to make him
expect that she would do so again, and continue to lead a single
life;--because, in that case, the day of her marrying, when it came at
last, would burst on him with tenfold horrors.

The result of this specious reasoning, enforced by tears, caresses and
protestations, was, that she had better go off to Scotland immediately
with him, and trust to time, necessity, and their parents' affection, to
secure their forgiveness.

Agnes the first time heard these arguments, and this proposal, with the
disdain which they merited; but, alas! she did not resolve to avoid all
opportunity of hearing them a second time: but, vain of the resolution
she had shown on this first trial, she was not averse to stand another,
delighted to find that she had not overrated her strength, when she
reproached Fitzhenry for his want of confidence in it.

The consequence is obvious:--again and again she heard Clifford argue
in favour of an elopement; and, though she still retained virtue
sufficient to withhold her consent, she every day saw fresh reason to
believe he argued on good grounds, and to think that that parent whose
whole study, till now, had been her gratification, was, in this instance
at least, the slave of unwarrantable selfishness.----

At last, finding that neither time, reflection, nor even a temporary
absence, had the slightest effect on her attachment, but that it gained
new force every day, she owned that nothing but the dread of making
her father unhappy withheld her from listening to Clifford's
proposal:--'Twas true, she said, pride forbade it; but the woman who
could listen to the dictates of pride, knew nothing of love but the
name.

This was the moment for Clifford to urge more strongly than ever that
the elopement was the most effectual means of securing her father's
happiness, as well as her own; till at last her judgement became the
dupe of her wishes; and, fancying that she was following the dictates
of filial affection, when she was in reality the helpless victim of
passion, she yielded to the persuasions of a villain; and set off with
him for Scotland.

When Fitzhenry first heard of her flight, he sat for hours absorbed in a
sort of dumb anguish, far more eloquent than words. At length he burst
into exclamations against her ingratitude for all the love and care that
he had bestowed on her; and the next moment he exclaimed with tears of
tenderness, "Poor girl! she is not used to commit faults; how miserable
she will be when she comes to reflect! and how she will long for my
forgiveness! and, O yes! I am sure I shall long as ardently to forgive
her!"--Then his arms were folded in fancy round his child, whom he
pictured to himself confessing her marriage to him, and upon her knees
imploring his pardon.

But day after day came, and no letter from the fugitives, acknowledging
their error, and begging his blessing on their union,--for no union had
taken place.

When Clifford and Agnes had been conveyed as fast as four horses could
carry them one hundred miles towards Gretna-green, and had ordered fresh
horses, Clifford started as he looked at his pocket-book, and, with
well-dissembled consternation, exclaimed, "What can we do? I have
brought the wrong pocket-book, and have not money enough to carry us
above a hundred and odd miles further on the North road!"--Agnes was
overwhelmed with grief and apprehension at this information, but did not
for an instant suspect that the fact was otherwise than as Clifford
stated it to be.

As I before observed, Agnes piqued herself on her knowledge of
characters, and she judged of them frequently by the rules of
physiognomy; she had studied voices too, as well as countenances:--was
it possible, then, that Agnes, who had from Clifford's voice and
countenance pronounced him all that was ingenuous, honourable, and
manly, could suspect him capable of artifice? could she, retracting he...

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