Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Patriot, nor do I own real estate in Nova Scotia.

Author's note: There is an R-rated sexual reference in the first third of the chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: The Greatest Adventure of All

Unlike a book, thought Tavington, life doesn't come to an end with a marriage. His life had never been so full before, nor so happy.

Even after all his dreams of Elizabeth, he had not fully grasped how delightful the companionship of an intelligent and amiable woman could be. The intense erotic satisfaction of teaching her all the secrets of love, bewitching and shameless, was only one source of his happiness. The closeness, the perfect unreserve of their relations, whether in the enchanted seclusion of their bedchamber, or in a casual touch as they read together on the shabby sofa, was source of constant joy. Simply sharing something he had heard, or was reading, was a novelty after so many years alone.

Julia's company, too, was a source of great pleasure and amusement. She was so affectionate toward him, so interested in everything around her, so responsive to the world at large, that Tavington reveled at long last in the sensation of being a brother again. A good brother, too, he trusted.

They were fortunate in their servants. Chloe was as quiet as Strephon, and equally efficient. Tavington had been a little annoyed at the girl for never looking him in the eye, and for constantly hiding her face in her huge cap. By chance, the brim was one day pushed back, and Tavington saw a ridged scar that could only have been made by a whip running across her jaw to the corner of her mouth. It was a sad disfigurement of a pleasant little face, and he was more understanding of her shyness from that time.

Even though they were not in a home of their own, Elizabeth was considerate of the servants' welfare. She had discovered that Strephon's room was no more warmly furnished than Chloe's had been, and immediately provided him with better bedding, including, to his valet's great admiration, a vivid red and blue quilt for his own.

"They are our people," said Elizabeth firmly, "and we must care for them, whether in lodgings or not." Tavington did not disagree, but did remind her that Strephon and Chloe were employees, and not property.

She regarded him blankly, and said, "I have always remembered to pay Chloe her wages; but our servants are still our responsibility." Tavington smiled, and let it pass.

There were a few clouds, of course. Though they did not complain, he could sense that Elizabeth and Julia were not perfectly content with New York: unaccustomed to the cold; unimpressed by the common Mrs. Briggs, with her indifferent cooking and her careless housekeeping; a little at loose ends in a city so very strange to them.

There was the day Elizabeth decided they must open her cousin's trunk. "We cannot simply cart it everywhere with us. It is probably just full of his linen, and probably some dirty linen at that, which will be most disagreeable." There was linen in it, though none was as dirty as she had feared, but also the odds and ends of a life: The deed to his property, now confiscated by the rebels; a worn deck of cards; a ribbon –tied packet of letters from one Miss Ada Gamble of Savannah, whom Elizabeth did not know; a ribbon-tied lock of fair hair, probably from the same Miss Gamble; Wilkins' razor and other toilet articles; a small pouch full of Spanish doubloons; a box half-filled with very good cigars; a bottle of very old brandy; a suit of civilian clothes; an unpaid bill from an inn outside Norfolk, Virginia ("We were besieged before he could pay it, from the date," commented Tavington); and surprisingly, a copy of The Compleat Angler.

"I had no idea he was so fond of fishing," said Tavington.

Elizabeth held the letters and lock of hair for a moment, and then finally said, "I shall write to this Miss Gamble, and return these things to her. Heaven only knows if she still cares for Cousin James, but it would still be better to tell her his fate than to let her wonder."

There was also the business of Amelia and her elopement to be dealt with.

Elizabeth could hardly speak rationally about Amelia and McKay, but finding patience he had not known he possessed, Tavington persuaded her that it would be a good idea for him to write directly to McKay himself, proposing that he and Amelia join them in Nova Scotia. He immediately sat down to the task, calmly listing the advantages the young people would enjoy in being surrounded by family, friends, and former comrades in arms. There need be no disguise or dissimulation among their neighbors, nor need they submit themselves to a government contrary to their principles. There was no question that they would still be independent, as indeed they must be, as man and wife; but they could call on the help and support of those who cared for them, if necessary. He avoided the emotive issues of guilt or duty to loved ones. Such sensitive topics might push the couple away.

He spent considerable time on the letter, and was pleased with it when it was completed. If nothing else, he had made clear that sailing to Nova Scotia with Elizabeth and himself, would, if nothing else, be infinitely easier than the dangerous overland journey across the mountains to Kentucky, made alone. The letter was posted, and all they could do was hope that young Mr. and Mrs. McKay would respond sensibly to it.

Meanwhile, he could distract Elizabeth with the other happenings around them.

Bordon's little son, Hugh, had been born the day after Tavington's wedding. Polly rather thought it was the wedding cake that had brought on her labour; and she was grateful for it, having been with child much longer than she liked. Within a few days, Tavington had taken his bride and his new sister to be presented to her. The introductions had gone well. Polly was delighted to have someone new to talk to and to exclaim over the beauty of her first-born. Tavington and Elizabeth were to be the infant's godparents.

Soon after, Tavington and Bordon, Elizabeth and Polly, had sat down together to discuss their future. Julia sat with them, full of her own ideas, but behaving well. Good spirits, as well as sober thought, were essential to the success of their venture.

Good preparation was also required. The general plan was to sail to Nova Scotia in the spring. By that time, they should have obtained all the needed supplies, household items, furniture, farm tools---all the complex baggage involved in beginning a new life. They made endless lists, sharing and comparing.

Most enjoyable was designing their new homes. Tavington had never been more aware of his friend's superior education and different experiences in life, as when they first undertook that.

Bordon was the younger son of minor Lincolnshire gentry. As such, he had always known he would have to make his own way in life. Originally destined for the church, he had completed his degree at Cambridge before breaking the news to his appalled family that he would instead be seeking his fortune in the New World.

"My mother screamed that I would be scalped by the wild Indians." Bordon told Tavington, and shrugged, "As it happened, I nearly was, once."

He had traveled the colonies, working as a secretary to the governor of New York, making friends among the Mohawks, doing some surveying and some exploring. Always, he had carefully husbanded his family inheritance against the day he would find just the right place to settle. The day had come, and now some skills Tavington did not know his friend possessed would prove vital.

Bordon brought out a case containing some drafting instruments of high quality. He had set about drawing up house plans.

"My maternal uncle was an architect. When I first told the family that I would not be taking orders in the Church, my Uncle Digby approached me with an alternative: I could study with him and become his partner. It was a kind and tempting offer, but I knew I would never be easy if I did not travel to America. I had dreamed of it since boyhood. My imagination was full of the Falls of the Niagara, of distant mountains, and the lore of the native peoples. Still, Uncle had taught me more than he knew over the years, and perhaps," he smiled, looking at the plans before him, "more than I knew myself."

The two of them sat over their tea, describing all the houses they had seen or heard about, from Blenheim Palace to Monticello. Bordon observed, "I think we'll have to be fairly conventional in design. Right angles are always easier for builders to manage than anything more complex. The main thing is to create houses that will satisfy our needs both now and in the future."

The houses that they eventually came up with looked little better than cottages to Tavington, but they must be practical and moderate, after all.

With all the loyal people wanting to leave New York, the two of them had begun assembling a group of workmen. Tavington and Bordon would pay their passages to Nova Scotia and provide them with food and shelter while their houses and outbuildings were completed. Bordon's property was a little closer to Annapolis Royal, where their building supplies and baggage would be stored; so the plan was to build his house first, and Tavington and his family would move in with them until their own home was finished.

They had also arranged to charter a ship. The brigantine Palinurus was to take them and their party to Annapolis Royal in April. Meanwhile, they made meticulous calculations about the building materials they must bring along. Nova Scotia was a land of forests, but from all they had heard, not exactly replete with seasoned timber for construction. Some of the portions of the houses, like paneling, wainscoting, window frames, and doors, would all be built now, and be ready for assembling at the sites.

The ladies were hard at work on the houses' contents. They shopped, and chose furniture designs and fabric; visiting craftsmen all over the town. They too had made their lists, consulting their copies of the house plans to decide exactly what they would need. Julia announced that she wished to help.

"I want to furnish my own bedchamber. I have money. It will be the prettiest room in the world, and it will all be mine."

"Julia, my dear," objected Tavington, "it is not necessary for you to spend your money. It is for us to provide for you."

"I want to help," Julia pouted.

In the end, Elizabeth suggested to Tavington, during one of their delicious post-coital conversations, that they ought to let Julia have her way.

"She wants to feel she is helping, my love. And why not? Let her choose what she likes, however wild or extravagant. She will feel included in our decisions, and then, when she marries someday, she will have something to take with her to her new home."

Thus Julia was set loose on the carpenters of New York. She eventually chose the most elaborately carved furnishings that could be completed in time. She was excited beyond words, and began embroidering some bed linens for her special use. She had other plans as well.

Early one morning, she was eager to go shopping for fabric for her wall coverings and for her bed and window draperies. Tavington and Elizabeth, still in bed, could hear her impatiently pacing the floor. Finally she knocked on their door.

"Lilabet, may we go now?"

"Julia, darling, it is not eight o'clock. Find a book to read." Tavington was impressed at the composure with which his bride spoke, as she was at the moment pleasurably impaled upon his lap, her soft legs around him.

They could also hear Chloe's mild scolding. "Miss Julia, don't you go bothering the Colonel and Mrs. Colonel when they're in their room and the door is shut!"

Tavington smothered a laugh. Elizabeth tried to glare at him, but was in no position to assert her dignity.

***

Strangers invariably took Julia for Tavington's daughter. Kind, plump shopkeepers' wives would smile fondly and tell Tavington how pretty his little girl was. There was no point in explaining the situation, so he merely thanked them and passed on the compliment to his sister-in-law. They had left a nearby shop, having purchased Julia's fabric: a delicate flowered silk for her walls and dark rose velvet for her bedcurtains and drapes. The material would be delivered to their lodgings later that day. Julia had plans for a wonderful coverlet also to be made from the velvet, and was going on about them in detail, when she suddenly shrieked.

"Keziah!" Julia let go of Tavington's hand and darted across the filthy street, her pattens clinking at each step. Tavington was instantly after her, expecting her at any moment to be run over by one of the heavy wagons trundling past.

Julia had caught up with an incredibly thin little black girl of about her own age. The other girl appeared astounded to see her, but also happy enough.

"Miss Julia! How did you get here?"

"I live here now. How did you get here?"

Julia explained to Tavington that Keziah was formerly from Arcadia. Tavington, after a moment's thought, remembered her speaking of a little friend there, who had tried to hide from the raiders. The girl was certainly not a very promising specimen. As well as looking more than half-starved and nearly frozen, she was dirty and ragged, and decidedly odiferous. He discreetly kept Julia from throwing her arms about her.

Elizabeth, walking more cautiously on her pattens, was now across the street and had also recognized Keziah. The little girl curtseyed to her, more in awe of her former mistress than she was of Julia.

It seemed that she was waiting near the local bakery, where her mother worked for food. "Waiting" was a synonym for "begging," for the child had a few coins given to her by compassionate passersby.

"Well," said Elizabeth, "come back with us to our lodgings. We'll get you something to eat, and you can tell us how you came to be here." The girl followed along, not even thinking of disobeying. Tavington could hear her and Julia, whispering together.

They arranged for the child to be fed, and as she was wolfing down her second bowl of porridge, she told them her adventures.

Keziah and her mother, Dandy, had been claimed by a man they did not know. After the slaves were shared out, this man had found he had not brought enough shackles, and decided to chain only the men. The second night, Keziah and Dandy had slipped away into the darkness, and after some time, managed to get their bearings. Traveling cautiously at night, they had finally made their way back to Arcadia.

"But weren't nobody there. The place was empty and all we heard was the wind. We didn't know what to do. We figured those men had carried you off too, so Mama and me got our things together and headed out. Mama thought we'd make for Charlestown, and we saw some redcoats one day and we asked if we could go along with them. They took us back to their fort, and Mama cooked for the Major and I cleaned and washed and such."

"What was the Major's name?" asked Tavington.

"Major Cochrane, sir. He sure was a nice gentleman. I didn't get regular wages like Mama, but now and then the Major would give me some money. And when he went North, he took us with him to cook for him in New York."

Tavington smiled faintly at the irony. He would never have thought to question Cochrane about his domestic arrangements, back when the major was commanding the Legion infantry. After Cowpens, Cochrane had eventually returned to headquarters in New York. Last October, he had tried to rejoin Cornwallis, and after many hardships, managed to slip past the blockade at Yorktown in a rowboat. After all that, he had been walking along the fortifications with the Lord General one day when a random cannonball had taken off his head.

"So your mother lost her employment when Major Cochrane left New York?"

"No, sir. He got us a place with this Colonel Dixon 'fore he left, and that was all right. But just 'fore Christmas, nearly all the officer gentlemen up and left, and Mama couldn't find nobody to give us a place. So that baker man said she could work there for her dinner, but they watch her to make sure she don't take nothing away, so I has to find my own dinner."

Elizabeth bit her lip, and gave Tavington a questioning look. He shrugged. "Keziah," Elizabeth finally said, handing the girl an apple, "when your mother is done for the day, tell her to come and see me here. You are not in trouble, and we are not going to claim you as our slaves." The girl's eyes widened: she had plainly not considered this issue at all. Elizabeth amplified, "The Colonel does not approve of owning slaves. Possibly we could find a place for your mother."

When they finally sent the girl on her way, she had a bag of food and a warm shawl. Tavington remarked, "I quite understand wanting to do something for your former servants, but I'm not sure what kind of work might be possible. Perhaps the Bordons---"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Dandy is a cook."

"A good one," added Julia, with satisfaction.

Tavington understood. They had discussed household help. Both Strephon and Chloe would have too much to do to also undertake all the cooking duties. Having a cook along would be worth the additional expense of her having a child to provide for as well. Now they would concentrate on finding the farm labour they would need.

***

The worst of the cold was over, and Elizabeth seemed in better humour with New York, though she still wondered aloud that "so many rude people could fit into one town." Tavington smiled, and reflected that it was just as well they would not be living here much longer. Both Elizabeth and Julia had found the manners and speech of the New Yorkers very strange. Elizabeth on occasion complained of hardly being able to understand a word that was said to her.

"And yet you understand me perfectly well," Tavington teased.

"You are English, my dearest! I understand Englishmen. Papa was English! I even understand Scotsmen, as there were plenty of them about the Carolinas. What I cannot understand is this Northern capacity to compress whole sentences into a few syllables!"

With the moderating weather came the opportunity to take his ladies out for exercise on their horses. Elizabeth and Candace had loved each other from the first, and even before the weather would permit riding, Elizabeth paid visits to her new friend, bringing her treats and conversing amiably. Julia named her pony Quicksilver, and could hardly be prevented from riding off alone.

New York and the island of Manhattan were not at their best this time of year, but Elizabeth and Julia still very much enjoyed traveling the busy streets. Then they would head north up the Broadway, past St. Paul's Chapel, and further into the meadows and farmlands north of the city proper. They saw everything: the banks of the Hudson River, the old windmills of the Dutch farmers; and then going back south, the public buildings and the curious shops everywhere. Tavington found himself, for the first time since his schooldays, a regular churchgoer; for Elizabeth thought highly of the Reverend Mr. Inglis, and every Sunday saw them in attendance at St. Paul's Chapel. It was not as bad as he remembered, for Inglis was intelligent man with sensible things to say; and loyal as he was, he was the right man for keeping up the spirits of a congregation afflicted with anxiety and unhappiness.

Tavington still had his duties to perform, and could not spend all the time he would have liked with his family. My family, he thought, what wonderful words. Still, they seemed to find plenty of work with planning and sewing, plenty of time to call on Polly Bordon and play with the baby, and plenty to amuse them about town.

Tavington made a point of finding a clever painter of miniatures to take Elizabeth's likeness. When he had, for a moment, thought her lost and drowned, his first thought had been: I do not even have a picture of her! The little portrait was quickly completed, and was very like, even to capturing the dark sparkle in her eyes. The pleased and excited Julia was painted next, and finally, at Elizabeth's insistence, Tavington himself.

One afternoon, Elizabeth and Julia were not home when Tavington returned. When they arrived a little later, Julia was worn out, and Elizabeth glowing with pleasure.

"We found a music shop," said Julia, as if that explained everything. She rolled her eyes in a long-suffering look, and Tavington laughed.

Elizabeth defended herself. "You appeared to me to having quite a time yourself."

"It was all right," Julia admitted. She told Tavington. "The place is owned by this old German, who has these big spectacles like goggles. He was the funniest sight—" Elizabeth looked at her reprovingly. Julia dropped that subject, and went on: "The place had a nice smell, like wood and paper. And he had all sorts of strange instruments. He let me play on the hurdy-gurdy, and he had harps—"

Tavington laughed again and shook his head. He thought the hurdy-gurdy a ridiculous instrument, but he was glad they had enjoyed themselves.

"—And he and Lilabet talked for hours about Sir Thomas Arne, and Mr. Christian Bach, and Mr. Haydn, and about all these Italians. And Lilabet played on his big pianoforte, and then I had to, too, and then he gave us coffee and sweets, and then she bought some music, and then he said to come again."

***

Dinner did not quite agree with Elizabeth that night. Julia thought it must have been the coffee.

"You never tasted such strong coffee! It could have stood up and walked!"

"Yes, thank you, Julia." Elizabeth looked positively queasy. "Perhaps we could not talk about it any more. In fact—" She rose from her chair a little unsteadily. "I think I'm going to lie down for awhile."

Tavington finished his dinner, and went into the bedchamber to see how Elizabeth was. She was curled on her side, with no candle lit. Only the dim, flickering fire illumined the room.

"Elizabeth?" He lay down with her, wrapping an arm around her. "Are you ill?"

"No, not at all," she replied softly. She put her arm over his, and snuggled closer to him. "I am now certain about what I had wondered all week."

"Certain about what?"

"Certain that we shall want larger quarters within the year." She said nothing more.

The quiet lengthened, as the import of her words gradually became clear to Tavington. A slow smile tugged at his lips. His grasp tightened. "Are you sure? Perhaps it really was the coffee."

"It is not just the indigestion. There are other signs." She took his hand, and pressed it over her breast. He could feel the first soft engorgement there.

"My Elizabeth," he whispered. "You will be the sweetest mother."

She turned toward him, with a kiss. She began undoing his buttons, a rather determined glint in her eye. He looked at her with some indecision, and she pushed him decisively onto his back.

"I thought you were unwell."

"You shall be my cure. And I hope," she stated, archly, "that my condition does not mean you will cease to worship me as you ought."

Happily supine, as she continued to undress him, he quoted, "Your desire is to my heart an absolute commandment."

They lay together afterwards in that state of perfect bliss that is like floating on the clouds. Elizabeth's hand was in his, her head pressed softly against his shoulder. He found the energy to speak, and asked, "Have you thought what you should like to name the child?"

"William if it is a boy. That one is easy."

He smiled, and squeezed her hand. "And what if the child is a girl?"

"Would you mind if it were a girl?" she countered.

Tavington considered a moment. He had never thought about any child other than the sturdy small boy of the riding lesson. With quickening imagination, however, the boy was transformed into a pretty little girl, with huge wondering eyes, dressed in an endearing miniature copy of her mother's riding habit. He lifted the small body up into the pony's sidesaddle, and arranged soft little hands on the reins. He swallowed.

"No, I don't suppose I would mind. What should we name her?"

"What was your mother's name?"

"Arabella."

"Hmmm."

"A good enough name, but one of ill-omen for me. Perhaps you would like to name her after your own mother. Emma Tavington has a nice sound to it."

"Very nice indeed. But I had thought—perhaps—to call her Zenobia."

Tavington laughed out loud. "You want to name our daughter after your horse?"

"Yes, well---I thought a lot of that horse."

"Emma Tavington."

"Oh, very well----Emma Tavington."

***

A letter came from Charlestown in late February. It was directed to Tavington, and Elizabeth was overjoyed and anxious at once. She sat, twisting her handkerchief, while Tavington broke the seal. Julia, at the pianoforte, turned around expectantly.

He looked over the letter, then looked at it again, while trying to think of a kind way to break the news to Elizabeth.

She, for her part, was growing more anxious. "Please, my dearest—what do they say?"

It would be cruel to keep her waiting. "My love, it is from Mrs. Rutherford. She returns my letter, with a note."

Elizabeth caught her breath, and Julia came to sit with her, holding her hand.

Tavington cleared his throat. "Amelia and McKay never received my letter. They have already left the school. They told Mrs. Rutherford they were concerned that the city could be evacuated at any time, so they departed for North Carolina, from whence they shall cross the mountains in the spring. Mrs. Rutherford knows no more than that."

Tavington, with angry helplessness, watched his wife dissolve into sobs. All he could do was sit on her other side and hold her, as Julia did.

"I shall never see her again!" Elizabeth choked out, hiding her face in her handkerchief. She collapsed against Tavington, giving way to grief. Julia jumped up and paced the room furiously.

"I knew it! All they wanted was to go somewhere where they could be alone together. They want to find perfect love, just like Melly always was talking about. Don't you mind them, Lilabet! Don't you mind them! I'll never leave you! And they're selfish pigs!"

"Oh, Julia, don't!" cried Elizabeth, sobbing harder.

"I hate them!" Julia shouted. "I hate them! They're a pair of cowardly traitors and I shall never speak their names again!" She ran into her little room and slammed the door.

Julia was as good as her word. Elizabeth, telling him something of the months in which they had been separated, made clear that a breach had developed between Amelia and Julia, as the older girl matured into womanhood and her first love. Julia, not understanding her sister's feelings, had seen in them a lack of family affection and loyalty. To some extent, a rift had opened between Amelia and Elizabeth herself. Amelia had grown secretive, and full of her own and McKay's opinions; disregarding Elizabeth's guidance, and showing herself quietly contemptuous of other adults.

"She feels that her family failed her. Papa's views led to us losing our home—and he and Mamma died and left us. She felt the first betrayal was theirs. I could not protect her from the rebels, and that hideous night---I did not understand at first how it had affected her. She hated living with Aunt—and then when we went to the school she felt how we had come down in the world. She was very bitter that we could not stay with the DeLanceys. The family really was lovely to us, and it would have been a comfort to her. When you wrote that Cousin James was killed, she was unsurprised, and said only that she always knew that the war would be the ruin of our family."

"And then all this with David." She gave a rueful, bitter laugh. "As much as I hate to admit it, perhaps my aunt was right; and it was a mistake to let her read Rousseau."

***

They spent a pleasant evening with the Bordons a few days later. Bordon was mangling him at chess under Julia's interested eye, when he heard snippets of the conversation between Elizabeth and Polly, as they sewed industriously on baby linen.

Polly was saying softly, "Of course it is very sad and disappointing for you, Mrs. Tavington, but just think: no matter whom she married, the two of you would most likely have been separated. If her husband had stayed in the Army, she might have gone to England, or even to India. It is just the way of the world." Polly paused briefly in her sewing, and added, "And she is not the first girl to lose her head over a young man and go away with him. At least they are married, and you think him of good character otherwise."

The baby demanded her attention, and the conversation changed, but Tavington noticed that from that time Elizabeth's spirits seemed better.

***

By early April, their arrangements were complete: their supplies purchased, their building materials collected, their workmen enlisted. The ship was ready, and its master, Captain Locke, eager to set sail. Elizabeth and Julia, though deploring the necessity, were consoled by the prospect of seeing their new home. Polly, with her baby to care for, was understandably nervous about undertaking her first sea voyage. Bordon was solicitous, but firm with her; and she seemed determined to be brave.

Tavington and Bordon were put on the inactive list. Tavington bade farewell to the British Legion and his Green Dragoons: to some of them, forever; and he felt a certain sorrow at losing contact with men with whom he had shared so much. To others, it seemed more like a temporary separation. Many of them would be going out to Nova Scotia themselves as soon as their claims were resolved. Perhaps they might yet meet again. He wondered what their lives in peacetime would be like. It struck him full force, as he left the camp, that he would never ride the charge again; and he felt a momentary panic at leaving behind what had been his life for twenty years.

He paused, took a deep breath, and commanded himself. After all, he reflected, I am leaving a life behind, but I have a new one before me with Elizabeth. Perhaps love is the greatest adventure of all.

---

Author's notes: Pattens were metal or wooden footgear that were strapped to the shoe, and they raised the wearer a few inches above the street. Women (and sometimes men) wore them to keep their shoes and hems clear of the filth.

Tavington's house may look small to him, both on paper and when it was built, but that is because he grew up in a very grand country house indeed. Most of us would think a red brick Georgian with (in its final form) six bedrooms (not counting some servants quarters partitioned off in the attic) quite a handsome upper-middle class house. Of course, when the house was modernised in the 1920's, one of the bedrooms was converted into two bathrooms and some closets.

Tavington quotes Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia.

Elizabeth's statement about Rousseau refers back to her aunt's scornful mention of Julie, ou la Nouvelle Heloise. This novel was one of the first works of the Romantic movement, and tells the story of a pair of lovers struggling against the demands of society, much like the medieval Heloise and Abelard, to whom the subtitle refers. Certainly Amelia's behaviour might indicate a girl who had taken the book very much to heart.