LETTER XLIV.
WILLIAM to his MOTHER.
We have Charles here again, dear mother. O how rejoiced was I to see him! The old officer is better, and we are all happy.
We sat down cheerfully this morning to breakfast, and did not then expect to see him. Emilia saw him first, she flew from her chair; there is my dear brother Charles! cried she, and ran to meet him as quick as possible. They came into the house hand in hand; but Charles let his sister’s hand go, as he entered the room, and ran to his father.—I will relate the conversation word for word.
Can you forgive me, dear father, for having caused you so much uneasiness?
SIR CHARLES.
Let me embrace you—you are dearer to me than ever; our uneasiness was not your fault, you have done your duty to your fellow-creature without forgetting your parents. How is the gentleman you have assisted?
CHARLES.
The officer is better, but still very weak.
LADY GRANDISON.
But, my dear, is he alone in that cottage? Will they take proper care of him?
CHARLES.
I have not left him alone with them, his own son is now with him. As soon as the old gentleman recovered his recollection, he mentioned his place of abode, which was not very distant. I sent to inform his children of the accident; and his eldest son set off immediately, and soon arrived at the cottage. When I had committed him into the hands of his son, I was eager to return home to my parents.
SIR CHARLES.
You were right, your presence was not then necessary; but has the poor man means to provide himself with what is requisite in his weak state?
CHARLES.
Yes, I enquired, and find he is in very good circumstances. Did I do right, Sir? I only rewarded the farmer, and gave Harry a trifle: and now I will return the remainder of the money you sent me.
You may keep it, and distribute it as you please. I am now treating you like a friend—a man; I allow you to exercise, according to the dictates of your own heart, the noblest priviledge of our nature, that of doing good: and do it often in secret, let the plaudit of your own heart, be your only recompense.
LADY GRANDISON.
How did you pass the night? Did you sleep at all?
CHARLES.
Believe me, I thought little of myself, I had before me a dying old man—I could think of nothing else. I desired some clean straw to be laid, near the sick man’s bed, but I made no use of it. My uneasiness on your account, and my painful anxiety for the officer, banished sleep from my eyes.
Poor Charles, to be obliged to sleep on straw.
CHARLES.
I should have slept on that as well as in my bed, if my heart had been at ease.
SIR CHARLES.
Charles is right; it is peace of mind and health of body which procures that refreshing sleep so necessary to recruit our exhausted powers. The softest bed will not afford rest to a troubled mind, or a disordered body.
EDWARD.
Who knows, when I am in the army, how many nights I may be obliged to sleep on the ground, without even the straw Emilia despises.
SIR CHARLES.
That may happen; and before young people make choice of a profession, they should arm themselves against the inconveniences, which consequently attend it: always remembering, that every state of life has its pains and pleasures. Every station is eligible, and will afford us heart-felt joy, if we fill it conscientiously: it is about our conduct, not our situation, that we should bestow most thought; and be more anxious to avoid evil than pain.
EDWARD.
I dare say, the king himself has his cares and sorrows as well as the meanest of his subjects.
SIR CHARLES.
Certainly. He is a man, none are exempt; God is no respecter of persons; they please him, who do good, and attend to truth: it matters not whether it be in a palace, or a mud hovel.
When we were alone, Charles said, I knew my father would not be displeased with me; yet if it had been possible, I wished not only to have spared him the anxiety my absence occasioned, but to have asked his advice. I followed the impulse of my heart—yet I do it with more pleasure, when his sanction assures me my feelings do not lead my reason astray.
WILLIAM.