Contains matter not to be found anywhere else in this or any other history.

MR. Lupton was already at the Hall, and prepared to receive our little party when they arrived. There was also awaiting Colin a letter from Jane Calvert, the contents of which went far to destroy that pleasure which else he could not have failed to experience from his present change of fortune, and the triumphant success of the last-recorded enterprise. But before this unpleasant piece of intelligence be farther commented on, it is necessary to record certain other interesting matters, which eventually produced a material influence, touching one or two of the leading personages of this history.

The story of Mr. Woodruff's liberation, and of his arrival at Kiddal Hall, accompanied by his deliverers, soon became known to the inhabitants of the district; and as the fact of Doctor Rowel's imprisonment, with all the main circumstances leading to and connected with it, had previously created no little sensation amongst them, the presence of James Woodruff excited universal attention. Numbers of idlers might have been seen lounging about the village of Bramleigh, and in the immediate neighbourhood of the Hall, anxious to pick up the smallest scrap of news respecting the strangers from any of the servants, and deeply desirous of catching even the most remote glimpse of any of the personages connected with those proceedings which, in one shape or another, occupied so much of their attention.

Meanwhile Colin caused a special and cautious messenger to be despatched to Fanny Woodruff, for the purpose of informing her, in a manner the least likely to over-excite her feelings, of the arrival of her father at the Squire's mansion, and to appoint a particular hour on the ensuing day, when her meeting with him should take place, it being deemed most advisable on account of both parties to allow some portion of time to elapse before that meeting was permitted. Particular apartments were, in the mean time, appropriated to Mr. Woodruff, as being better adapted to his present state both of body and mind. To recapitulate at length the circumstances attendant on the meeting between poor James Woodruff and his daughter forms no part of my design. It is enough to state, that the feelings of each were wrought upon by that interview to the highest extreme; that hours seemed to them but as minutes; and that night scarcely separated them even temporarily without the bitterest tears.

Some time afterwards, when the condition of all parties would allow of it without pain or danger, an entertainment upon a large scale was given at the Hall, at which every one of the individuals most interested were present, besides a considerable number of the neighbouring gentry, their wives and families, whose sympathies had been aroused by that bitter story of persecution and criminality, of which Mr. Woodruff had been made the victim; and while all lamented the past sorrows of that worthy man, they rejoiced with double feeling at the conclusion which was now put to his sufferings, and extolled in the highest terms the very humblest individual whose instrumentality had been required in the singular adventure that terminated in his release.

On this occasion it was that Mr. Roger Calvert, the blunt and honest brother of Jane, first became acquainted with Fanny Woodruff. Fanny, as has been previously observed, was by no means deficient in personal attractions, which now were rather heightened in interest than depreciated, by the more delicate character her features had assumed since the period of her first meeting with her father. Grief and anxiety had, if I may so speak, spiritualised her looks, and attached a degree of interest to her general appearance, which it did not possess before; while the devotedness and love with which she watched her father, the eagerness to anticipate his slightest wants, and the patient unwearying watch she kept over him, while yet the yoke of the world into which he had come back sat newly and awkwardly upon him,—all conspired to stamp both her person and character with those amiable qualities which recommend themselves to the notice, and not unfrequently to the love of the truly sensible and discerning.

While Mr. Roger Calvert yet tarried at the Hall, he had frequent opportunities of becoming more intimately conversant with both herself and her parent. So favourably did these unpremeditated interviews affect the young man, that it soon became evident that Fanny strongly attracted his attention. And though at the outset she exhibited a degree of reluctance to be wooed, bordering on absolute indifference, and which offered small hope that ever she would consent to be won,—a state of feeling which the presence of Colin contributed not a little to produce,—yet at length her heart relented somewhat; and she found, besides, in the character and disposition of Roger perhaps a better substitute for Colin than the chance of a thousand might give her: a good reason this to her mind for listening with more favour to his suit than she would or could have done to that of another person who might have occupied the same position. She heard Colin, moreover, always express himself in such high terms of his friend, as could not fail to have considerable influence in predisposing her in his favour. Then, too, there was that strongest tie of all, the demands of gratitude to her lover for the part he had taken in restoring to liberty and his friends a parent whom else she had looked upon as for ever lost to both. This attachment caused Mr. Calvert to prolong his stay considerably beyond his original intention; combined as it was with the pressing solicitations of Mr. Lupton, who would not think of permitting so early a departure to the son of a friend who had been one of his dearest acquaintances even in boyhood.

Fanny, it is perhaps almost unnecessary to relate, had left Lawyer Sylvester's house almost immediately after the happy arrival of her father at Kiddal. The leisure thus afforded her was taken ample advantage of by Roger, whose attentions to his daughter were marked by Mr. Woodruff with deep interest and pleasure: that gentleman feeling that no reward in his power to bestow could ever so much as approach that idea of return which he entertained for the boundless service that had been rendered him; though the greatest in his power to give, had he even possessed worlds, would yet in his estimation have been the hand of so dear a child, with such a portion on her marriage as would place her in ease for life out of that recovered property which soon he should again obtain.

Thus sanctioned at once by her sense of gratefulness, by the approving smiles of her poor restored father, and the lavish praise bestowed upon the individual who sought her hand by Colin, it is no matter of wonder that her estimation of Roger daily grew more favourable, until at length she fairly yielded to his solicitations, and received him as that certainly accepted lover who was one day to make her his bride.

With respect to Colin's mother, Mrs. Clink, he seized the earliest opportunity afforded by his return into that part of the country to wait upon her with the assurance of his present happiness from the kindness and liberality of one whom now he knew to be his father, as well as to convey to her from that gentleman—though without explanation—a present of two hundred pounds. Mrs. Clink expressed herself in terms of deep satisfaction at the fortunes which now appeared to be in waiting for her son; but at the same time informed him that she could never enjoy a mother's highest delight and be a daily witness of her child's prosperity and happiness, as it would be more congenial to her own feelings, to carry into execution a design she had some time since formed of retiring to a distant part of the country, where, unknown, and out of sight of all those who, under the circumstances now brought about, might be to her, as she to them, a cause of painful reflection, she could quietly pass the remaining portion of her life in humble endeavours to atone for the one great error of her existence, and hide the troubles it had entailed upon her for ever from the world.

“Circumstances,” said she, “too plain to be named, or more particularly alluded to, urge me to adopt this course. Though you are my son, I should find it impossible under these altered prospects to act in everything as a mother's heart would dictate. Though I am your mother, you too would find it still more impossible at all times to act as your filial feelings would prompt you to do. To live so closely together, with these bars between our intercourse, which nothing but the death of—one who I hope will yet, for your sake, live long—could not be consistent with either your disposition or mine. It is better, then, that I should quietly retire to some far-off obscurity in which to pass the remainder of my days, and be content to hear occasionally of your happiness, while with humble and contrite feelings of heart, I endeavour to fit myself for that fearful and tremendous appearance before an immortal Judge, which, sooner or later—with this weight of sin upon my soul—I shall be called upon to make.”

Colin wept bitterly, while his mother's hands, as she spoke thus, pressed feelingly his own. He saw too much good sense in her remarks to attempt to controvert them, although he strove as much as possible to soften the asperity of those self-accusations with which they were intermingled. He promised her, however, that, so far as his resources would allow, she should be made as comfortable and happy as in this world we can hope to be; and that he would on all occasions omit nothing calculated in any degree to afford her comfort if not entire happiness.

In accordance with this decision, Mrs. Clink scrupulously carried out the plan she had proposed. She retired with a competency to a small village in Derbyshire, where she dwelt in peaceful seclusion many years afterwards; receiving from time to time those affectionate communications from her son which formed in great part at once her company and her consolation.