mind the idea of a personal agency of the Deity, he substituted a principle which he called "Nature;" and divesting it of all cognizance of virtue or vice, he taught her to believe that the world and all in it had been arranged first of all by this principle, that certain laws had then been fixed upon, by which this world was to be governed, and that accordingly as man obeyed or disobeyed these laws, so would he be prosperous on earth or the reverse. That men had generally disobeyed these laws, of which the inequality of riches was a proof, and that until these laws were restored in the world, unhappiness must prevail, That of a future state we know nothing; that a revelation from GOD was not to be believed in, because it was not required, Nature teaching all that is necessary for man to know. That men ought always to follow the desires implanted in them by Nature, so far as they did not interfere with the happiness of others; that marriage was a lie, one of the results of that foolish superstition which had so long prevailed in the world; and as a practical evidence of his victory over poor Esther's mind on this point, he at last accomplished her ruin. It is true that this last part of his conquest was not gained without considerable difficulty; for although Esther admitted all the arguments which he brought to bear upon it, yet she had some feeling of delicacy left, which she could not without difficulty get rid of. She said that she knew marriage was not a religious rite, for that people now could be married by a lawyer as well as by a parson, but then people generally were married, and those who were not married were looked upon with scorn and contempt by their neighbours, and that for her part she would rather be married, if they were to live together. This Joseph would not agree to, so the subject was dropped for the time, and no more alluded to, except now and then in a casual way, in the course of conversation, as a matter upon which people might safely hold different opinions. Joseph knew the person he had to deal with, and the subject upon which he treated; he did not, therefore, again press her to agree with him in theory, but having, as I have already said, effected her seduction, the rest easily followed; for her father and mother having discovered what had taken place, and Esther defending her conduct, the consequence was, they turned her out of doors; and having no other home to go to, she accepted that of Joseph Freethink. As may easily be supposed, Mr. and Mrs. Simmonds were much grieved at what had happened. They had long been aware of Esther's intimacy with Joseph Freethink, but, knowing that he was a young man of pleasing manners, with a tolerably good trade, were not very desirous that Esther should reject his attentions, or suffer the intimacy between them to cool; on the contrary, they had at different times encouraged what was going on, and all, strange to say, with a full knowledge of the character which Joseph bore; for at the commencement of Esther's acquaintance with him, when the first whispers of their evening walks together had passed among the neighbours, the vicar, who had heard of them, called upon Mr. Simmonds, and represented to him what sort of a person Freethink was, and most strongly advised him not to allow his daughter to have any thing more to do with him. Simmonds at the time assented to all that the vicar said, and told his wife on her return home that he was resolved to put a stop to their daughter's intimacy with Freethink. Mrs. Simmonds, however, overruled him, and, pointing out to him what great advantages would follow in a pecuniary point of view, if Esther should marry him, easily prevailed on her husband tacitly to acquiesce in what was going on. Some of the better disposed of his acquaintance had at different times repeated to him much the same arguments used by Mr. Clare, and had told him plainly that he was playing a very dangerous game in suffering his daughter to keep company with such a man as Freethink, that he never intended to marry her, and that if he did, it would not be a piece of wisdom, at all events it would not be the part of a Christian to allow his daughter to marry an infidel. D 2 All this might have had some effect on Simmonds himself, had not the old saying in this instance been true, viz. that "the gray mare was the better horse." Mrs. Simmonds was more than a match for them all, and, having resolved in her own mind that Esther should keep company with and marry the young bookseller, she kept her husband in tolerable awe upon the subject, and seldom allowed him to broach those reasons which appeared to his mind so conclusive against the match. Bitter, indeed, were Esther's feelings when she came calmly to reflect upon the step she had taken. She was now an outcast from home and from society; she knew that none of her former companions would take any notice of her; and she had not a friend in the world to whom she could go for advice and comfort, except to him who had robbed her of all else, and whom she could not love, although she had sacrificed for him so much. Sometimes, when alone--and alone she generally was-she would think over her former life, and call to mind the hopes and fears which had agitated her breast; she would think of the days when religion brought to her real comforts, for, unsettled and unsound as her views of religion were, they still, in their mutilated state, brought to her greater and more frequent joys than any thing else; she would think of the times when, as the Sunday came round, she met her friends and joined with them in praises and prayer to that GOD whom then she believed in; she would think of her class and the little children who formed it, and the smiling faces, and the kind congratulations with which they were wont to welcome her; she would call to mind the bond of union which cemented her to those with whom she lived-the common Faith professed by them; then her thoughts would fall on her father's house; she would paint to herself the little room where they met together, and the many happy days she had passed there, and the many kindnesses she had received,- for absence with her as with others had its effect, smoothing down those roughnesses and annoyances which at the time had made her home unpleasant, and her father's quiet face, and her mother's anxious form would rise up before her, and she would gulp down the rising sighs, and almost gasp for breath, till a flood of tears would come to her relief. At first these fits of reflection, and the consequent sorrow upon them, were less frequent. Joseph, when not otherwise engaged, treated her with attention, and appeared to regard her with affection. This, however, did not last very long; he had always something or other to take him away as soon as his shop was closed, and seldom returned home before midnight, so that Esther saw very little of him. Her confinement was also drawing on, and the depresssion of spirits resulting from her present state, and the fears of what might happen, together with Joseph's growing coldness, rendered her melancholy more intense, and her fits of sorrow more frequent. It may perhaps almost appear strange that Joseph's growing coldness should affect her with sadness, for she had never truly loved him. She had in the first instance been attracted to him from a love of novelty and independence. She was fond of new views, and felt a degree of regard for one who professed to be independent of all the rules and regulations which, as he said, entrammelled and enthralled mankind. She was taken with his conversation, which, to say the truth, was clever, full of beautiful illustrations, and, apparently to her, of just and sound reasoning, but she did not love him; his cold, calculating, faithless, dead speculations forbade it; in an evil hour she listened to his suggestions, and was lost, and then, too late, discovered that she had given her all for nothing in return, henceforward, her course was as of one impelled by necessity. She considered that she was fated to dwell during life with the man who had ruined her. True, she did not love him, but he was the only prop she had to lean upon, and comfortless as his attentions were, in their degree they were essential to her happiness, and deeper became her sorrow as they gradually ceased. She had no Poor girl her case was a piteous one, hopes beyond the grave-her hopes there were gone. Her fears were allayed, as far as her fears could be allayed; but with all her attempts to effect it, backed as they were by his philosophical demonstrations, still at times the fearful thought would arise-What if there should be a future-what if it should at length appear that Christians are right, and I and these with me are wrong -that there is a GOD, and a heaven, and a hell-what if these things should at length prove true! These thoughts would at times occur, and dispel at once the clouds of false reasoning with which she had so flimsily veiled her fears, but of hope beyond this life she had none. All the hope she had was bounded by the grave, and as a drowning man will catch at a straw, so did this poor girl at the one slight particle of hope which was left her, and hung anxiously on the love of him whom she could not love, as the one sole stay which could save her from despair. CHAPTER IV. BUT soon to tempt the pleasures cease, And stern necessity will force Still to urge on the desperate course, The drear black paths of vice the wretch must try. * * * * * * * * Ah! close the scene, ah! close, for dreadful is the sight. COLERIDGE. Ir frequently happened about this time, when Esther's confinement was drawing near, that Joseph absented himself more than usually from home, and when there, was more than ordinarily sullen and unkind. In his conversations with Esther he discovered that she was dissa |