Trial of Mary Blandy by William Roughead

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When Dr. Addington, and Dr. Lewis (who was called in it seems) came
into the room, and told me, that nothing could save my ever dear
father; for a considerable time I sat like a stone image; and then
told them, that I had given my poor father some powders which
Cranstoun had given me, and feared those had hurt my father, though
Cranstoun assured me that they would not.

It is not in human nature to declare what I suffered at that time. God
grant that no one ever may again.

When my father was dead, though mistress of myself, my keys, servants,
two horses in the stable, all my own; yet I never quitted my room.
Though none dared to molest me, I never stirred. They say, that I
walked about my room for hours; but I hardly remember anything. Much
is now said of my trying to bribe my servants. How contrary to truth!
As for bribing Betty my cook; of all my servants she was my greatest
enemy throughout my misfortunes; and an attempt to bribe her must
surely be the strongest instance of lunacy, of one not in her right
mind. I own I should have been glad not to have gone to jail; as who
would not? But then I would with pleasure have resigned myself up at
the Assizes, and stood the chance of life or death. I did not at that
time imagine, that I had such enemies, or that human nature could be
so wicked and abandoned. On the Thursday my father was to be opened.
In the morning Suzanna Gunnel sent for me, being indisposed: When I
saw her, she begged that I would bring Mr. Cranstoun to justice, which
was the request and command of her dying master; and that if anything
gave him concern in his last moments, it was an apprehension of his
escaping, being a man of quality, and interest among the great. I
replied that I would do all in my power, and went down into my room
again.

Soon after Dr. Lewis came into my room, and I found by him that my
poor father's body was to be opened as that morning. As soon as he was
gone, I could not bear to stay in the house, but walked out. Let
reason judge whether I intended an escape. My dress was an half-sack
and petticoat, made for a hoop, and the sides very long; neither man
nor horse to assist me; and, as they say, I walked as slow as foot
could fall; half the town at my heels; and but for the mercy of a
woman, who sheltered me in her house, had perhaps lost my life. When I
was sent for back by the Justices, the gentlemen who conveyed me to my
house, witnessed that I thanked him. Surely this cannot be interpreted
an attempt to escape.

In consequence then of the words which, during these melancholy and
distracting scenes, I had spoke to Dr. Addington, that I was innocent
of the nature of the powders, but had given them to my father, I was
sent to prison, where I was till my trial, and am now in safe custody.
The untruths which have been told of me, the messengers sent after me,
to see if I was safe, the putting me in Irons (though so weak and ill,
that my own body was too much to carry about), the baseness and
wickedness of printing the depositions to hurt me with the jury; under
all this I bore up from knowing my innocence.

But give me leave to mention what happened at my trial. I was brought
to the Bar; and must do the judges, and all the gentlemen of the law,
that justice, that they used me as a gentlewoman should be, though
unfortunate. I must, however, observe, that when the judges read and
summed up the evidence, or indeed when anything was said in Court,
there was such a noise, that the jury, I am sure, could not hear the
evidence; and I hope I shall be forgiven, if I say, that some of them
seemed not to give that attention I think they ought. Nay, the judges
were often obliged to speak for silence in the Court, and bid them for
shame let the jury hear and attend. When all the witnesses were
examined on both sides, the judge gave his charge like a man fit to
hold the sword of justice; and my council and friends were in great
hopes for me. But, most surprising treatment! without going out of the
Court, without being any time consulting, their verdict was, Guilty!
God's will be done. My behaviour at my trial, and when sentence was
passed, I leave to the world. My enemies, as they have done all along,
may misinterpret it, and call innocence and Christian courage hardened
guilt. But let them know, that nothing but innocency could stand the
shock of such repeated misfortunes, and prospect of death.

O Christian reader! remember what blessings will attend you for
defending the orphan, the injured, and the deceived. And if the dead
are sensible what the living do; what prayers must not dear parents
pour out before the throne of mercy for such charity, for endeavouring
to rescue their only child and much-loved daughter from a shameful
death. Drop pen; my spirits, harrassed out with sorrow, fail. God
Almighty preserve you and yours from such misfortunes, and receive my
poor soul into the arms of his mercy, through Jesus Christ. Amen.

Whosoever thou art, whose eyes drink in this sad and moving tale,
indulge one tear. Remember the instability of sublunary things, and
judge no man happy till he dies.

APPENDIX IV.

MISS MARY BLAND'S OWN ACCOUNT OF THE AFFAIR BETWEEN HER AND MR.
CRANSTOUN, FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THEIR ACQUAINTANCE IN THE
YEAR 1746 TO THE DEATH OF HER FATHER IN AUGUST, 1751, WITH ALL
THE CIRCUMSTANCES LEADING TO THAT UNHAPPY EVENT.

(No. 8 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)

My acquaintance with Mr. Cranstoun, who was lieutenant of a regiment
of marines, commenced at Lord Mark Kerr's,[23] in one of the summer
months, as I at present apprehend, of the year 1746. At first we
entertained of each other only sentiments of friendship, I being upon
the point of marrying another gentleman; which, for some prudential
reasons, was soon put off, and at last came to nothing. Some months
after our first interview, Mr. Cranstoun left Henley; and, about the
following summer, returned to his uncle, Lord Mark Kerr, who lived at a
house he had hired in that town, called Paradise. After his arrival at
Henley, our friendship continued for some time; in one part of which I
told him, as a friend that wished me well, of another advantageous
match that had been proposed to me; but at the same time declared to
him, that I was afraid the gentleman was not formed to make me happy.
Upon this, he asked me, "whether or not I preferred mutual love to the
grandeur of life?" To which I replied, "I preferred the man I loved
and esteemed to all others." This induced him to make a proposal to me
in the following terms: "Miss Blandy, I have upon my hands an unhappy
affair, which to you I have made no secret of; I can assure you,
before I speak what follows, I am not now married, nor never was; tho'
by the nature of the Laws of Scotland, I am involved in some
difficulties brought upon me by that affair, out of which it will be
some time before I can extricate myself. Do you think you could love a
man well enough to stay till this affair be brought to a
determination? I have, added he, wished such a proposal might take
effect from the very first moment that I saw you; but my honour would
not permit me to make it in form, till the invalidity of my pretended
marriage did appear to the whole world." To this I made no reply, as
Lord Mark Kerr at that instant came into the garden; Mr. Cranstoun and
I being then at his house. The next day Mr. Cranstoun came to my
father's, and renewed the discourse; on which I told him, that "if my
Papa and Mamma would approve of my staying for him, I readily
consented thereto." After this he took the first opportunity of
speaking to my Mamma upon the same subject; and he received from her
the following answer: "Sir, you do my daughter an honour; but I have
understood, that you have a perplexing affair upon your hands, and it
is reported that you are married." He then made answer, "Madam, as I
have a soul to be saved, I am not, nor ever was." To which she
replied: "Very well, Mr. Cranstoun, I will take your word as to that;
but I have many more reasons to give you why I disapprove of your
proposal. In the first place, you are a man of fashion., and I believe
your fortune small; my daughter has been brought up with great rare
and tenderness, and as neither of you seem to me cut out to live upon
a small fortune, you would both like to live in a manner suitable to
your station." To which she added, "I can assure you, Mr. Cranstoun,
had my daughter L10,000 and in my disposal, I would give her to you
with the greatest pleasure. There is one thing, continued she, I
think, Mr. Cranstoun, I ought to inform you of. Notwithstanding the
world reports Mr. Blandy to be able to give his daughter down a
handsome fortune, I am sure he cannot do it; tho' I was ever made a
stranger to his circumstances." To which he replied, "If Mr. Blandy
will give me his daughter, I shall not trouble him about that." This,
as far as I can recollect, is the substance of what passed on Mr.
Cranstoun's first making his addresses to me.

After the last conference, my mamma and Mr. Cranstoun had several
others to the same effect; the last of which was followed by Mr.
Cranstoun's journey to Bath. He attended his uncle. Lord Mark Kerr,
thither; but before he left Henley, he obtained my father's leave to
correspond with me. He went to Bath, if my memory fails me not, in the
latter season of the year 1747; after I had been above a year
acquainted with him. He staid at Bath about five or six weeks; and,
after his return to Henley, lived at our house, with my father's and
mother's approbation, five or six months. At the end of this term, he
went up to town; and, within a few days after his arrival there, wrote
to my father, to beg; the favour of him to comply with his request,
that I might be permitted to stay for him till his unhappy affair with
Miss Murray (for so was his supposed wife called) was finally
determined. This, he said, he was assured, by the best judges, must
end in a little time with certain success: which, as he added, would
make him the happiest man living; and he doubted not but he should
communicate the same degree of happiness to me, by the tender
treatment I should meet with from him. My father gave the letter to me
with a smile, and told me, "that was a letter which he believed I
should read with some pleasure." After I had read it, I said, "What
will you answer it, sir?"' To which he replied, "Not at all." Upon
this, looking earnestly at him, said, "Not at all, papa?" "No,"
replied he, "you shall answer it yourself." "In what manner, sir?"
subjoined I. "As," returned he, "is most agreeable to you." To which,
however, he thought fit to add, "Tho' I give you leave in this manner,
yet if you are prudent you will not think of having a man of quality
without any fortune, when you may marry a man with a very ample one,
of as good a gentleman's family as any in England: But, continued he,
if you can be contented, I'll do what I can to make you happy with
him. I believe he loves you, and mutual love must make the
marriage-state happy." Mr. Blunt, the owner or proprietor of Paradise,
the house inhabited by Lord Mark Kerr, was then at my father's, and
knew, if I am not mistaken, from whom the letter came. Be that as it
will, no more passed on this subject at that time. The next post I
informed Mr. Cranstoun, that "My papa had given me leave to write to
him whatever I pleased; in consequence of which I should take the
liberty to assure him, that I would stay for him, and accept of no
other offer till his affair was brought to a decision; and that if it
was not determined in his favour, I doubted whether I should accept of
any ever after." Tho' I did not see Mr. Cranstoun for several months,
our correspondence still continued; letters passing and repassing
between us almost every post.

During this interval, my mamma went to a place called Turville Court,
to the house of one Mrs. Pocock; where she was seized with a disorder,
that it was thought would have proved fatal to her. Through the whole
course of her illness, when in her senses, she constantly cried out,
"Let Cranstoun be sent for:" On which, I at last sent for him. He was
then at Southampton; which, by the miscarriage of one of his letters,
I was ignorant of. But the very night he reached London, he set out
for Turville Court, and arrived there about ten o'clock at night. As
soon as he came to Mrs. Pocock's house, he was instantly taken up into
my mother's chamber, which greatly refreshed and revived her; for she
immediately raised herself up in bed, took him about the neck, and
kissed him in the most affectionate manner. At the same time, she
said, "My dear Cranstoun, I am glad you are come; I now shall grow
well soon." Nor would she take any medicines, but from his hand,
saying, "My poor nurse must not be jealous (meaning her daughter)
since loving him I knew is pleasing her." The next day she got up, and
sent for Mr. Cranstoun into her room; saying, "This I owe to you, my
dear Cranstoun; your coming has given me new health and fresh spirits:
I was fearful lest I should die, and you not here to comfort that poor
girl, how like death she looks!" My father came thither that day to
see his spouse, and took Mr. Cranstoun, who met him in the hall, up in
his arms, saying, "I am glad to see you here, how does my wife?" Upon
Mr. Cranstoun's telling him, "she was much better, and up," he said,
smiling, "I suppose they will both of them (meaning his wife and
daughter) be much better, now you are come." My father seemed in great
good humour all that day. The next time he came (for he returned home
at night) he appeared much out of humour at the great expence incurred
by my mother on the foregoing occasion, and desired her to think of
removing to her own house; since in that case, neither the physician's
fees nor the apothecary's journeys could be so expensive. But she was
too weak to be removed immediately. However, in a short time, she
returned home, in company with myself and Mr. Cranstoun, who, with my
father and mother's approbation, resided with us above six months.
During which interval, my father was sometimes extremely kind, and
sometimes very rude to Mr. Cranstoun, as well as very harsh, to his
daughter. I observed, that this rudeness and harshness generally
appeared after he had been in company with some persons, and
particularly one hereafter mentioned, who were known not to approve of
my marriage with Mr. Cranstoun. My father also frequently made my
mother very uneasy, on account of her approbation of that marriage;
tho' he always declared, that he thought Mr. Cranstoun a most agreeable
man. Whilst he was last at my father's house, the regiment of marines
to which he belonged was broke at Southampton; which obliged him to go
thither: But he did not stay there above two or three days; and upon
his return to Henley, was received by my father with great tenderness,
who told him, that "as he was now broke, he supposed his cash, would
run low; and that therefore he was welcome to stay with him." This
happening in my presence, I went up to my father kissed him, and said,
"Sir, I shall never forget this goodness." Mr. Cranstoun having lost
his post in the regiment of marines, did not remain long in Henley;
but set out soon for London, where he made a pretty, considerable
stay. We kept up, however, our correspondence, as usual in times of
absence, he writing to me almost every post.

A few months after Mr. Cranstoun's return from Southampton, my mother
went up to London, in order to ask advice for a complaint in her
breast, and took me along with her. Upon our arrival there, we went to
her brother's, Mr. Henry Steven's, in Doctors' Commons, where we
resided all the time we remained in town. I had before apprized Mr
Cranstoun of our intended journey; and he waited upon me the next
morning after our arrival at my uncle's. Hither he came every day to
visit me, whilst we stayed in London. Once he brought his brother,
the Lord Cranstoun, with him, who was then just married. One of Mr.
Cranstoun's visits happening a little before dinner, my mother asked
her brother, Mr. Henry Stevens, to invite him to dinner; but this
favour was refused her: On which, coming into the dining-room, whore
she found me and Mr. Cranstoun, she took him by the hand, and burst
into tears, saying, "My dear Mr. Cranstoun, I am sorry you should be
so affronted by any of my family, but I dare not ask you to stay to
dinner. However, continued she, come to me as often as you can in my
own apartment; in a morning I am always alone." To this Mr. Cranstoun
made answer, "My dear mamma, don't be uneasy--I don't come for the
sake of them, but of you and your daughter. And let him put on never
so terrible a face, he shall not keep me from you." At this time Mrs.
Focock was in town, and had a house in St. James's Square, to which I
used to go most days. Hither Mr. Cranstoun perpetually came, when he
understood that I was here; and that with my father's, who arrived in
town after we had reached it, and mother's consent. Mrs. Pocock often
asked my father, whilst in London, to make one of the party. But he
answered her, "You keep such quality hours, as neither agree with my
health, nor suit my business; however, you will have two parts of me,
my wife and my daughter." "Yes," replied Mrs. Pocock, "and not only
these two, but likewise another bit of you, which will be coming
soon." At this he smiled, and said, "What, Cranstoun! a little bit,
indeed, I think! They are very well matched--I was surprised not to
find him here--I thought they could not have been so long asunder." My
father went away and left his family there. The next day my mother and
I were invited to dine at Mrs. Pocock's, in order to meet the present
Lord Crauford,[24] then Lord Garnock, and Mr. Cranstoun. The latter
attended Mrs. Pocock in a coach she had hired to fetch me and my
mother into her house. My father met us in the Strand, and stopped the
coach, crying out, "For God's sake, Mrs. Pocock, what do you with this
rubbish every day?" "Rubbish, do you call them," replied she, "your
wife, your daughter, and one who may be your son?" "Aye, aye," said
he, "they are very well matched; 'tis pity they should ever be
asunder." On which, Mr. Cranstoun took hold of my father's hand, and
cried out, "God grant they never may; don't you say Amen, papa." At
this my father smiled, and said, "Make her these fine speeches seven
years hence." He then took his leave of them, saying, "He had so much
business upon his hands, that he could not stand idling there";
bidding the coachman to drive on, and crying out, "God bless you, I
wish you merry." Mrs. Pocock then asked him, "If he could not contrive
to come to them?" To which he made answer, alluding to the distance of
her house, "God bless you, do you think I can come down now to
Henley?" Then our coachman drove on to St. James's Square; and soon
after my father left the town, in order to return home.

Whilst I was now in London, Mr. Cranstoun proposed a private marriage
to me, saying, "It might help us with regard to the affair in
Scotland; since a real marriage, according to the usage of the Church
of England, if matters went hard, might possibly invalidate a contract
that arose only from cohabitation." In order to understand which, it
must be observed, that Mr. Cranstoun had before cohabitated with one
Miss Murray, by whom he had had a child then living; and was
consequently considered, by the Laws of Scotland, as her husband.
This, he said, was the only thing that intituled her to him, as he
never was married by any priest. To Mr. Cranstoun's proposal I
answered, "I won't, Cranstoun, do you so much injury, as well as
myself; for my father never will forgive it, nor give me a farthing."
To which he replied, "There will be no occasion to discover it, but
upon such an interesting event; and then surely, if you love me, you
will suffer anything rather than part with me. What would I not suffer
for you!" To this I made answer, "I would do nothing in the affair
without he could procure the advice of the best council, and be
certainly informed by this that such a marriage would be valid.
Consider with Yourself," said I, "Cranstoun, what a condition I should
be in, if I should lose my character, my friends, and yourself?--And
you I must lose, if your former supposed marriage should be declared
valid, and in honour we must never see each other more." He then said,
"He would go and lay the case immediately before the best council,
particularly Mr. Murray, the Solicitor-General." But I heard no more
of this affair whilst we staid in town, excepting that it was laid
before the said council; nor did I receive any more solicitations from
him on this head.

About this time my mother being distressed for money, was very uneasy,
as well as in a bad state of health; which gave me great concern.
Being one day, therefore, alone, and in tears, Mr. Cranstoun came
unexpectedly into the room, and insisted upon knowing the reason of my
grief; which at last, after many tender persuasions on his part, I
discovered to him. I told him my mother owed forty pounds, and as she
durst not inform my father of it, did not know which way to get it. To
this he replied, "I only wish I had as many hundreds: I will get it
for you, my dear, to-morrow. Poor woman, how can her husband use her
so!" On which, my mother coming in, no more was at that time said. Mr.
Cranstoun stayed but a little while; and when he went away, he told
me, "He would see about it." After he was gone, I took my mother in my
arms, and said, "My dear mamma, you may be easy about this money, for
Mr. Cranstoun will get it for you to-morrow." At this my mother burst
into tears, and cried, "Why will Mr. Blandy expose himself and me so?
How can the poor soul get it? But he shall have my watch if he ever
wants it, and I cannot pay him in money." To this I made answer, "As
to paying him in money, mamma, that you never can; having never been
mistress of such a sum, nor likely ever to be so; but make yourself
easy, if we meet, you will never be asked for it."

The next day she and I went to see her sister, Mrs. Frances Stevens,
who then lived with her uncle, Mr. Cary, in Watling Street; where Mr.
Cranstoun and his cousin, Mr. Edmonstoun, took their leave of us, we
being to set out for Henley the day following. Mr. Cranstoun brought
the money with him, which he delivered into my mother's own hand; on
which, not being able to speak, she squeezed his hand and burst into
tears. He then kissed her, and said, "Remember, 'tis a son, and
therefore don't make yourself uneasy; you can't lie under any
obligation to me." Then he took me by the hand, and led me into
another room. Here I was going to return him thanks for his goodness
to my mother: but this he prevented, by kissing me, and saying, "That
was all he desired in return." Then he gave me five guineas, and
desired me to keep them by me; since, in case the council should think
a private marriage proper, they should enable me to come up in a
post-chaise to London, and meet him there, with all possible
expedition. After a little farther discourse, we parted in a very
moving manner. I paid ten pounds for my mother, out of the forty
pounds she had been supplied with by Mr. Cranstoun, that very night.
The next morning we set out for Henley, where we arrived in due time.
The day following, being Sunday, I wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, as he had
requested me to do; giving him an account of our safe arrival, and
thanking him in the strongest terms, for his late extraordinary
favour. The next day, being Monday, the other thirty pounds, being the
remaining part of the money my mother had borrowed of Mr. Cranstoun,
she paid to the footman, for fowls, butter, eggs, wine, and other
provisions, brought into the house, chiefly on account of
entertainments, by him.

From this time to Sept. 28th, 1749, my mother continued in a good
state of health. But on that day, which was about half a year after
her last departure from London, at one o'clock in the morning, she was
taken very ill. This giving me, who always lay with her, great
uneasiness, I immediately got up, and called her maid., who instantly
appeared; and then she got out of bed, and retired. When she came into
bed again, she said, "My dear Molly, don't fright yourself: You know
there is now no danger." In order to understand which words, it will
be proper to observe, that, when my mother was in labour of me, she
received a hurt; which made me apprehensive of ill consequences, which
either the cholick, which was her present disorder, or any
obstructions in the parts contiguous to those which are the seat of
that distemper, happened. She lay pretty easy till six, when I
dispatched a messenger for Mr. Norton, the apothecary to the family,
who lived in Henley. When he came, she complained of a pain in her
bowels; upon which he took some blood from her, and ordered her some
gentle physic. She seemed better after this, but nothing passed
through her. It being Friday, and many country gentlemen meeting to
bowl at the Bell Inn, the Rev. Mr. Stevens of Fawley, my mother's
brother, came thither that day, paid a visit to his sister, and found
her greatly indisposed. When he left the room, in which she lay, for
she kept her bed, I followed him out, and asked him, if he thought
there was any danger; telling him how she then was, the manner in
which she was first seized, and what had been prescribed her. As she
before had had several such fits of cholick, Mr. Stevens did not
apprehend any immediate danger. I said, "If my mamma was not better
soon, I would send for a physician." To which he replied, "You are
much in the right of it; but stay a little, and see what effects the
physic will have." He called again in the evening, and found her
better, tho' nothing had yet passed through her. About twelve o'clock
at night my mother obliged me, who was then myself indisposed, to get
into another bed; and promised to send to me, if she found herself
worse. Soon after this, she grew much worse; but would not send to her
daughter, saying, "She would know her fate too soon." She farther said
in Mr. Norton, who was then with her, "My daughter loves me so well,
that I wish my decease may not be the death of her." Between five and
six o'clock in the morning, on Saturday Sept. 30th, 1749, my mother's
maid came up to me, and told me, that, "If I would see my mother
alive, I must come immediately into her chamber." I leaped out of bed,
put on my shoes, and one petticoat only, and ran thither in the
greatest confusion imaginable. When my mother saw me, she put out her
hand, and said, "Now, Molly, shew yourself a Christian, and submit to
what God is pleased to order. I must die, my dear: God will enable you
to bear it, if you pray to Him." On which I turned about in a state of
distraction, ran to my father's room, and said to him, "For God's
sake, sir, come to my mother's room: she is this instant dying." Then
I ran, with great inquietude, into the kitchen, where I found my
footman, and sent him immediately to Fawley for the Rev. Mr. Stevens,
my uncle, and his brother, Mr. Henry Stevens, of Doctors Commons, who
was then at his house in Henley. I also, at the same time, dispatched
a messenger to Dr. Addington, who lived at Reading. After which I went
upstairs, and found my father sitting by my mother's bedside. She took
him and me both by the hand, joining our hands together, and saying to
him, "Be both a father and a mother to her: I have long tried and
known her temper, Mr. Blandy. She is all your heart can wish for, and
has been the best of daughters to me. Use her with a generous
confidence, and she will never abuse it. She has set her heart upon
Cranstoun; when I am gone, let no one set you against this match." To
these last words Mr. Blandy immediately made answer, "It shall not be
my fault, if this does not take place; but they must stay, you know,
till the unhappy affair in Scotland is decided." "God bless you,"
replied she, "and thank you for that promise; God bless you, Mr.
Blandy, for all your kindnesses to me and my girl. God grant that you
may both live long, that you may be a blessing to each other. Whatever
little unkindnesses may have passed I freely forgive you. Now, if you
please to go down, Mr. Blandy, for my spirits fail me." My father then
kissed her, and retired in tears, saying, as he went, "The doctor
still may think of something that may be of service to you." At this
she smiled and said, "Not without you can give me a new inside." When
my father was gone, my mother took hold of my hand, drew me to her,
and kissed me. Taking notice that I had no cloaths on, she ordered my
maid to bring 'em down, and dress me. This being done, she ordered her
servants out of the room; and told me, "she had many things, if her
strength would permit, to say to me. Be sure then," said she, "Molly,
when I am gone, to remember the lessons I have taught you. Be dutiful
to your father; and if you think I have been sometimes a little hardly
used, do not remember it in wrath; but defend my character if
aspersed. I owe some more money, Molly, God knows how you will get it
paid. I wish your uncles would stand your friends. If your father
should know it, I am only fearful for you. Indeed, my dear, I never
spent it in extravagancies. I was in hopes you would have been
married; I then would have told your father all, as I could have come
to you till his passion had been over." On my being drowned In tears,
she catched me in her arms, and cried, "I leave the world with the
greatest pleasure, only thee makes me sorry to go. Oh that I could but
take you along with me!--But then what would poor Cranstoun do? Be
sure, child, you behave with honour in that affair; don't, either
thro' interest or terror, violate the promises you have made." To this
I reply'd, "You may be sure, madam, I never will. I will do all I can
to act as you would wish your daughter to do. Oh mamma, you have been
the best of mothers to me! How can I survive you, and go thro' all the
miseries I must meet with after your death, without a friend to advise
with on any emergency or occasion." "My dear," returned she, "your
uncle John, in things you cannot speak to your papa about, will help
and advise you in the tenderest manner; and you may repose an absolute
confidence in him."

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