An uncle of Mrs. Wildegrave's, who had been more than suspected of
favoring the cause of the unhappy prince, died, and settled upon his
niece all the property he had to bestow, which barely afforded her an
income of fifty pounds a year. This was but a scanty pittance, it is
true; but it was better than the hard-earned bread of dependence, and
sufficient for the wants of two females.
Mrs. Wildegrave, whose health had been for some years in a declining
state, thought that the air of her native place might have a beneficial
effect upon her shattered constitution; and as years had fled away since
the wreck of all her hopes, she no longer felt the painful degradation
of returning to the place in which she had once held a distinguished
situation, and had been regarded as its chief ornament and pride.
Her people, save a younger brother of her husband's, who held a
lucrative situation in India, had all been gathered to their fathers.
The familiar faces that had smiled upon her in youth and prosperity, in
poverty and disgrace, remembered her no more. The mind of the poor
forsaken widow had risen superior to the praise or contempt of the
world, and she now valued its regard at the price which it deserved. But
she had an intense longing to behold once more the woods and fields
where she had rambled in her happy childhood; to wander by the pleasant
streams, and sit under the favorite trees; to see the primrose and
violet gemming the mossy banks of the dear hedge-rows, to hear the birds
sing among the hawthorn blossoms; and, surrounded by the
fondly-remembered sights and sounds of beauty, to recall the sweet
dreams of youth.
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