The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™

by Robert Reed

died; and he was left destitute . He accepted the offer of a gentleman

  to go to India with him, feeling secure that he should soon acquire

  an independence, and return to claim the hand of his beloved . He

  became involved in the war carried on there, was taken prisoner,

  and years elapsed before tidings of his existence were received in

  his native land . In the meantime disastrous poverty came on Lucy .

  Her little cottage, which stood looking from its trellice, covered

  with woodbine and jessamine, was burnt down; and the whole of

  their little property was included in the destruction . Whither betake

  them? By what exertion of industry could Lucy procure them another

  abode? Her mother nearly bed-rid, could not survive any extreme of

  famine-struck poverty . At this time her other admirer stept forward,

  and renewed his offer of marriage . He had saved money, and was

  going to set up a little inn at Datchet . There was nothing alluring to

  Lucy in this offer, except the home it secured to her mother; and she

  felt more sure of this, since she was struck by the apparent generos-

  ity which occasioned the present offer. She accepted it; thus sacrific-

  ing herself for the comfort and welfare of her parent .

  It was some years after her marriage that we became acquainted

  with her . The accident of a storm caused us to take refuge in the

  inn, where we witnessed the brutal and quarrelsome behaviour of

  her husband, and her patient endurance . Her lot was not a fortunate

  one. Her first lover had returned with the hope of making her his

  own, and met her by accident, for the first time, as the mistress of

  his country inn, and the wife of another . He withdrew despairingly

  to foreign parts; nothing went well with him; at last he enlisted,

  and came back again wounded and sick, and yet Lucy was debarred

  from nursing him . Her husband’s brutal disposition was aggravated

  by his yielding to the many temptations held out by his situation,

  and the consequent disarrangement of his affairs . Fortunately she

  had no children; but her heart was bound up in her brothers and

  sisters, and these his avarice and ill temper soon drove from the

  house; they were dispersed about the country, earning their liveli-

  hood with toil and care . He even shewed an inclination to get rid of

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  her mother—but Lucy was firm here—she had sacrificed herself for

  her; she lived for her —she would not part with her—if the mother

  went, she would also go beg bread for her, die with her, but never

  desert her . The presence of Lucy was too necessary in keeping up

  the order of the house, and in preventing the whole establishment

  from going to wreck, for him to permit her to leave him . He yielded

  the point; but in all accesses of anger, or in his drunken fits, he re-

  curred to the old topic, and stung poor Lucy’s heart by opprobrious

  epithets bestowed on her parent .

  A passion however, if it be wholly pure, entire, and reciprocal,

  brings with it its own solace . Lucy was truly, and from the depth of

  heart, devoted to her mother; the sole end she proposed to herself

  in life, was the comfort and preservation of this parent . Though she

  grieved for the result, yet she did not repent of her marriage, even

  when her lover returned to bestow competence on her . Three years

  had intervened, and how, in their pennyless state, could her mother

  have existed during this time? This excellent woman was worthy

  of her child’s devotion. A perfect confidence and friendship existed

  between them; besides, she was by no means illiterate; and Lucy,

  whose mind had been in some degree cultivated by her former lover,

  now found in her the only person who could understand and appre-

  ciate her . Thus, though suffering, she was by no means desolate, and

  when, during fine summer days, she led her mother into the flowery

  and shady lanes near their abode, a gleam of unmixed joy enlight-

  ened her countenance; she saw that her parent was happy, and she

  knew that this happiness was of her sole creating .

  Meanwhile her husband’s affairs grew more and more involved;

  ruin was near at hand, and she was about to lose the fruit of all her

  labours, when pestilence came to change the aspect of the world .

  Her husband reaped benefit from the universal misery; but, as the

  disaster encreased, the spirit of lawlessness seized him; he deserted

  his home to revel in the luxuries promised him in London, and found

  there a grave. Her former lover had been one of the first victims of

  the disease . But Lucy continued to live for and in her mother . Her

  courage only failed when she dreaded peril for her parent, or feared

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  that death might prevent her from performing those duties to which

  she was unalterably devoted .

  When we had quitted Windsor for London, as the previous step

  to our final emigration, we visited Lucy, and arranged with her the

  plan of her own and her mother’s removal . Lucy was sorry at the

  necessity which forced her to quit her native lanes and village, and

  to drag an infirm parent from her comforts at home, to the home-

  less waste of depopulate earth; but she was too well disciplined by

  adversity, and of too sweet a temper, to indulge in repinings at what

  was inevitable .

  Subsequent circumstances, my illness and that of Idris, drove her

  from our remembrance; and we called her to mind at last, only to

  conclude that she made one of the few who came from Windsor to

  join the emigrants, and that she was already in Paris . When we ar-

  rived at Rochester therefore, we were surprised to receive, by a man

  just come from Slough, a letter from this exemplary sufferer . His

  account was, that, journeying from his home, and passing through

  Datchet, he was surprised to see smoke issue from the chimney of

  the inn, and supposing that he should find comrades for his journey

  assembled there, he knocked and was admitted . There was no one

  in the house but Lucy, and her mother; the latter had been deprived

  of the use of her limbs by an attack of rheumatism, and so, one by

  one, all the remaining inhabitants of the country set forward, leaving

  them alone . Lucy intreated the man to stay with her; in a week or

  two her mother would be better, and they would then set out; but

  they must perish, if they were left thus helpless and forlorn . The man

  said, that his wife and children were already among the emigrants,

  and it was therefore, according to his notion, impossible for him to

  remain . Lucy, as a last resource, gave him a letter for Idris, to be de-

  livered to her wherever he should meet us . This commission at least

  he fulfilled, and Idris received with emotion the following letter:—

  “HONOURED LADY,

  “I am sure that you will remember and pity me, and I dare

  hope that you will assist me; what other hope have I? Pardon

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  my manner of writing, I am so bewildered . A month ago my

  dear mother was deprived of the use of her limbs . She is


  already better, and in another month would I am sure be able

  to travel, in the way you were so kind as to say you would

  arrange for us . But now everybody is gone—everybody—as

  they went away, each said, that perhaps my mother would

  be better, before we were quite deserted . But three days ago

  I went to Samuel Woods, who, on account of his new-born

  child, remained to the last; and there being a large family of

  them, I thought I could persuade them to wait a little longer

  for us; but I found the house deserted . I have not seen a soul

  since, till this good man came . —What will become of us?

  My mother does not know our state; she is so ill, that I have

  hidden it from her .

  “Will you not send some one to us? I am sure we must

  perish miserably as we are . If I were to try to move my

  mother now, she would die on the road; and if, when she

  gets better, I were able, I cannot guess how, to find out the

  roads, and get on so many many miles to the sea, you would

  all be in France, and the great ocean would be between us,

  which is so terrible even to sailors . What would it be to me,

  a woman, who never saw it? We should be imprisoned by it

  in this country, all, all alone, with no help; better die where

  we are . I can hardly write—I cannot stop my tears—it is not

  for myself; I could put my trust in God; and let the worst

  come, I think I could bear it, if I were alone . But my mother,

  my sick, my dear, dear mother, who never, since I was born,

  spoke a harsh word to me, who has been patient in many

  sufferings; pity her, dear Lady, she must die a miserable

  death if you do not pity her . People speak carelessly of her,

  because she is old and infirm, as if we must not all, if we

  are spared, become so; and then, when the young are old

  themselves, they will think that they ought to be taken care

  of . It is very silly of me to write in this way to you; but, when

  I hear her trying not to groan, and see her look smiling on

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  me to comfort me, when I know she is in pain; and when I

  think that she does not know the worst, but she soon must;

  and then she will not complain; but I shall sit guessing at

  all that she is dwelling upon, of famine and misery—I feel

  as if my heart must break, and I do not know what I say or

  do; my mother—mother for whom I have borne much, God

  preserve you from this fate! Preserve her, Lady, and He will

  bless you; and I, poor miserable creature as I am, will thank

  you and pray for you while I live .

  “Your unhappy and dutiful servant,

  “LUCY MARTIN .

  “Dec . 30th, 2097 .”

  This letter deeply affected Idris, and she instantly proposed, that

  we should return to Datchet, to assist Lucy and her mother . I said

  that I would without delay set out for that place, but entreated her to

  join her brother, and there await my return with the children . But Id-

  ris was in high spirits, and full of hope . She declared that she could

  not consent even to a temporary separation from me, but that there

  was no need of this, the motion of the carriage did her good, and the

  distance was too trifling to be considered. We could dispatch mes-

  sengers to Adrian, to inform him of our deviation from the original

  plan . She spoke with vivacity, and drew a picture after her own dear

  heart, of the pleasure we should bestow upon Lucy, and declared,

  if I went, she must accompany me, and that she should very much

  dislike to entrust the charge of rescuing them to others, who might

  fulfil it with coldness or inhumanity. Lucy’s life had been one act of

  devotion and virtue; let her now reap the small reward of finding her

  excellence appreciated, and her necessity assisted, by those whom

  she respected and honoured .

  These, and many other arguments, were urged with gentle per-

  tinacity, and the ardour of a wish to do all the good in her power,

  by her whose simple expression of a desire and slightest request

  had ever been a law with me . I, of course, consented, the moment

  that I saw that she had set her heart upon this step . We sent half our

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  attendant troop on to Adrian; and with the other half our carriage

  took a retrograde course back to Windsor .

  I wonder now how I could be so blind and senseless, as thus

  to risk the safety of Idris; for, if I had eyes, surely I could see the

  sure, though deceitful, advance of death in her burning cheek and

  encreasing weakness . But she said she was better; and I believed

  her . Extinction could not be near a being, whose vivacity and intel-

  ligence hourly encreased, and whose frame was endowed with an

  intense, and I fondly thought, a strong and permanent spirit of life .

  Who, after a great disaster, has not looked back with wonder at his

  inconceivable obtuseness of understanding, that could not perceive

  the many minute threads with which fate weaves the inextricable net

  of our destinies, until he is inmeshed completely in it?

  The cross roads which we now entered upon, were even in a

  worse state than the long neglected high-ways; and the inconve-

  nience seemed to menace the perishing frame of Idris with destruc-

  tion . Passing through Dartford, we arrived at Hampton on the sec-

  ond day . Even in this short interval my beloved companion grew

  sensibly worse in health, though her spirits were still light, and she

  cheered my growing anxiety with gay sallies; sometimes the thought

  pierced my brain—Is she dying?—as I saw her fair fleshless hand

  rest on mine, or observed the feebleness with which she performed

  the accustomed acts of life . I drove away the idea, as if it had been

  suggested by insanity; but it occurred again and again, only to be

  dispelled by the continued liveliness of her manner .

  About mid-day, after quitting Hampton, our carriage broke down:

  the shock caused Idris to faint, but on her reviving no other ill conse-

  quence ensued; our party of attendants had as usual gone on before

  us, and our coachman went in search of another vehicle, our former

  one being rendered by this accident unfit for service. The only place

  near us was a poor village, in which he found a kind of caravan,

  able to hold four people, but it was clumsy and ill hung; besides this

  he found a very excellent cabriolet: our plan was soon arranged; I

  would drive Idris in the latter; while the children were conveyed by

  the servant in the former . But these arrangements cost time; we had

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  agreed to proceed that night to Windsor, and thither our purveyors

  had gone: we should find considerable difficulty in getting accom-

  modation, before we reached this place; after all, the distance was

  only ten miles; my horse was a good one; I would go forward at a

  good pace with Idris, leaving the children to follow at a rate more

  consonant to the uses of their cumberous machine .

  Evening closed in quickly, far more quickly than I was prepared


  to expect . At the going down of the sun it began to snow heavily . I

  attempted in vain to defend my beloved companion from the storm;

  the wind drove the snow in our faces; and it lay so high on the

  ground, that we made but small way; while the night was so dark,

  that but for the white covering on the ground we should not have

  been able to see a yard before us . We had left our accompanying

  caravan far behind us; and now I perceived that the storm had made

  me unconsciously deviate from my intended route . I had gone some

  miles out of my way . My knowledge of the country enabled me to

  regain the right road; but, instead of going, as at first agreed upon,

  by a cross road through Stanwell to Datchet, I was obliged to take

  the way of Egham and Bishopgate . It was certain therefore that I

  should not be rejoined by the other vehicle, that I should not meet a

  single fellow-creature till we arrived at Windsor .

  The back of our carriage was drawn up, and I hung a pelisse

  before it, thus to curtain the beloved sufferer from the pelting sleet .

  She leaned on my shoulder, growing every moment more languid

  and feeble; at first she replied to my words of cheer with affectionate

  thanks; but by degrees she sunk into silence; her head lay heavily

  upon me; I only knew that she lived by her irregular breathing and

  frequent sighs . For a moment I resolved to stop, and, opposing the

  back of the cabriolet to the force of the tempest, to expect morning

  as well as I might . But the wind was bleak and piercing, while the

  occasional shudderings of my poor Idris, and the intense cold I felt

  myself, demonstrated that this would be a dangerous experiment .

  At length methought she slept—fatal sleep, induced by frost: at this

  moment I saw the heavy outline of a cottage traced on the dark ho-

  rizon close to us: “Dearest love,” I said, “support yourself but one

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  moment, and we shall have shelter; let us stop here, that I may open

  the door of this blessed dwelling .”

  As I spoke, my heart was transported, and my senses swam with

  excessive delight and thankfulness; I placed the head of Idris against

  the carriage, and, leaping out, scrambled through the snow to the

  cottage, whose door was open . I had apparatus about me for procur-

  ing light, and that shewed me a comfortable room, with a pile of