← catalogue

Discipline

by Mary Brunton · English · Gutenberg #38510 · 906,603 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Discipline
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Discipline

Author: Mary Brunton


        
Release date: January 6, 2012 [eBook #38510]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38510

Credits: E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Paula Franzini, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCIPLINE ***


E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Paula Franzini, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)



DISCIPLINE

by

MARY BRUNTON




CONTENTS


  Chapter I             1
  Chapter II           11
  Chapter III          19
  Chapter IV           32
  Chapter V            41
  Chapter VI           51
  Chapter VII          61
  Chapter VIII         73
  Chapter IX           83
  Chapter X           101
  Chapter XI          114
  Chapter XII         124
  Chapter XIII        143
  Chapter XIV         156
  Chapter XV          165
  Chapter XVI         178
  Chapter XVII        193
  Chapter XVIII       210
  Chapter XIX         217
  Chapter XX          231
  Chapter XXI         244
  Chapter XXII        257
  Chapter XXIII       269
  Chapter XXIV        286
  Chapter XXV         301
  Chapter XXVI        313
  Chapter XXVII       327
  Chapter XXVIII      340
  Chapter XXIX        351
  Chapter XXX         367




CHAPTER I

    _--I was wayward, bold, and wild;
    A self-willed imp; a grandame's child;
    But, half a plague and half a jest,
    Was still endured, beloved, carest._

                                             Walter Scott


I have heard it remarked, that he who writes his own history ought to
possess Irish humour, Scotch prudence, and English sincerity;--the
first, that his work may be read; the second that it may be read without
injury to himself; the third, that the perusal of it may be profitable
to others. I might, perhaps, with truth declare, that I possess only the
last of these qualifications. But, besides that my readers will probably
take the liberty of estimating for themselves my merits as a narrator, I
suspect, that professions of humility may possibly deceive the professor
himself; and that, while I am honestly confessing my disqualifications,
I may be secretly indemnifying my pride, by glorying in the candour of
my confession.

Any expression of self-abasement might, indeed, appear peculiarly
misplaced as a preface to whole volumes of egotism; the world being
generally uncharitable enough to believe, that vanity may somewhat
influence him who chooses himself for his theme. Nor can I be certain
that this charge is wholly inapplicable to me; since it is notorious to
common observation, that, rather than forego their darling subject, the
vain will expatiate even on their errors. A better motive, however,
mingles with those which impel me to relate my story. It is no unworthy
feeling which leads such as are indebted beyond return, to tell of the
benefits they have received; or which prompts one who has escaped from
eminent peril, to warn others of the danger of their way.

It is, I believe, usual with those who undertake to be their own
biographers, to begin with tracing their illustrious descent. I fear
this portion of my history must be compiled from very scanty materials;
for my father, the only one of the race who was ever known to me, never
mentioned his family, except to preface a philippic against all
dignities in church and state. Against these he objected, as fostering
'that aristocratical contumely, which flesh and blood cannot endure'; a
vice which I have heard him declare to be, above all others, the object
of his special antipathy. For this selection, which will probably obtain
sympathy only from the base-born, my father was not without reason; for,
to the pride of birth it was doubtless owing that my grandfather, a
cadet of an ancient family, was doomed to starve upon a curacy, in
revenge for his contaminating the blood of the Percys by an unequal
alliance; and, when disappointment and privation had brought him to an
early grave, it was probably the same sentiment which induced his
relations to prolong his punishment in the person of his widow and
infants, who, with all possible dignity and unconcern, were left to
their fate. My father, therefore, began the world with very slender
advantages; an accident of which he was so far from being ashamed, that
he often triumphantly recorded it, ascribing his subsequent affluence to
his own skill and diligence alone.

He was, as I first recollect him, a muscular dark-complexioned man, with
a keen black eye, cased in an extraordinary perplexity of wrinkle, and
shaded by a heavy beetling eyebrow. The peculiarity of his face was a
certain arching near the corner of his upper lip, to which it was
probably owing that a smile did not improve his countenance; but this
was of the less consequence, as he did not often smile. He had, indeed,
arrived at that age when gravity is at least excusable; although no
trace of infirmity appeared in his portly figure and strong-sounding
tread.

His whole appearance and demeanour were an apt contrast to those of my
mother, in whose youthful form and features symmetry gained a charm from
that character of fragility which presages untimely decay, and that air
of melancholy which seems to welcome decline. I have her figure now
before me. I recollect the tender brightness of her eyes, as laying her
hand upon my head, she raised them silently to heaven. I love to
remember the fine flush that was called to her cheek by the fervour of
the half-uttered blessing. She was, in truth, a gentle being; and bore
my wayward humour with an angel's patience. But she exercised a control
too gentle over a spirit which needed to be reined by a firmer hand than
hers. She shrunk from bestowing even merited reproof, and never
inflicted pain without suffering much more than she caused. Yet, let not
these relentings of nature be called weakness--or if the stern morality
refuse to spare, let it disarm his severity, to learn that I was an only
child.

I know not whether it was owing to the carelessness of nurses, or the
depravity of waiting-maids, or whether, 'to say all, nature herself
wrought in me so'; but, from the earliest period of my recollection, I
furnished an instance at least, if not a proof, of the corruption of
human kind; being proud, petulant, and rebellious. Some will probably
think the growth of such propensities no more unaccountable than that of
briars and thorns; being prepared, from their own experience and
observation, to expect that both should spring without any particular
culture. But whoever is dissatisfied with this compendious deduction,
may trace my faults to certain accidents in my early education.

I was, of course, a person of infinite importance to my mother. While
she was present, her eye followed my every motion, and watched every
turn of my countenance. Anxious to anticipate every wish, and vigilant
to relieve every difficulty, she never thought of allowing me to pay the
natural penalties of impatience or self-indulgence. If one servant was
driven away by my caprice, another attended my bidding. If my toys were
demolished, new baubles were ready at my call. Even when my mother was
reluctantly obliged to testify displeasure, her coldness quickly yielded
to my tears; and I early discovered, that I had only to persevere in the
demonstrations of obstinate sorrow, in order to obtain all the
privileges of the party offended. When she was obliged to consign me to
my maid, it was with earnest injunctions that I should be
amused,--injunctions which it every day became more difficult to fulfil.
Her return was always marked by fond inquiries into my proceedings
during her absence; and I must do my attendants the justice to say, that
their replies were quite as favourable as truth would permit. They were
too politic to hazard, at once, my favour and hers, by being officiously
censorious. On the contrary, they knew how to ingratiate themselves, by
rehearsing my witticisms, with such additions and improvements as made
my original property in them rather doubtful. My mother, pleased with
the imposition, usually listened with delight; or, if she suspected the
fraud, was too gentle to repulse it with severity, and too partial
herself, to blame what she ascribed to a kindred partiality. On my
father's return from the counting-house, my double rectified _bon mots_
were commonly repeated to him, in accents low enough to draw my
attention, as to somewhat not intended for my ear, yet so distinct as
not to balk my curiosity. This record of my wit served a triple purpose.
It confirmed my opinion of my own consequence, and of the vast
importance of whatever I was pleased to say or do: it strengthened the
testimony which my mother's visiters bore to my miraculous prematurity;
and it established in my mind that association so favourable to feminine
character, between repartee and applause!

To own the truth, my mother lay under strong temptation to report my
sallies, for my father always listened to them with symptoms of
pleasure. They sometimes caused his countenance to relax into a smile;
and sometimes, either when they were more particularly brilliant, or his
spirits in a more harmonious tone, he would say, 'Come, Fanny, get me
something nice for supper, and keep Ellen in good humour, and I won't go
to the club to-night.' He generally, however, had reason to repent of
this resolution; for though my mother performed her part to perfection,
I not unfrequently experienced, in my father's presence, that restraint
which has fettered elder wits under a consciousness of being expected to
entertain. Or, if my efforts were more successful, he commonly closed
his declining eulogiums by saying, 'It is a confounded pity she is a
girl. If she had been of the right sort, she might have got into
Parliament, and made a figure with the best of them. But now what use is
her sense of?'--'I hope it will contribute to her happiness,' said my
mother, sighing as if she had thought the fulfilment of her hope a
little doubtful. 'Poh!' quoth my father, 'no fear of her happiness.
Won't she have two hundred thousand pounds, and never know the trouble
of earning it, nor need to do one thing from morning to night but amuse
herself?' My mother made no answer;--so by this and similar
conversations, a most just and desirable connection was formed in my
mind between the ideas of amusement and happiness, of labour and misery.

If to such culture as this I owed the seeds of my besetting sins, at
least, it must be owned that the soil was propitious, for the bitter
root spread with disastrous vigour; striking so deep, that the iron
grasp of adversity, the giant strength of awakened conscience, have
failed to tear it wholly from the heart, though they have crushed its
outward luxuriance.

Self-importance was fixed in my mind long before I could examine the
grounds of this preposterous sentiment. It could not properly be said to
rest on my talents, my beauty, or my prospects. Though these had each
its full value in my estimation, they were but the trappings of my idol,
which, like other idols, owed its dignity chiefly to the misjudging
worship which I saw it receive. Children seldom reflect upon their own
sentiments; and their self-conceit may, humanly speaking, be incurable,
before they have an idea of its turpitude, or even of its existence.
During the many years in which mine influenced every action and every
thought, whilst it hourly appeared in the forms of arrogance, of
self-will, impatience of reproof, love of flattery, and love of sway, I
should have heard of its very existence with an incredulous smile, or
with an indignation which proved its power. And when at last I learnt to
bestow on one of its modifications a name which the world agrees to
treat with some respect, I could own that I was even 'proud of my
pride;' representing every instance of a contrary propensity as the
badge of a servile and grovelling disposition.

Meanwhile my encroachments upon the peace and liberty of all who
approached me, were permitted for the very reason which ought to have
made them be repelled,--namely, that I was but a child! I was the
dictatrix of my playfellows, the tyrant of the servants, and the
idolised despot of both my parents. My father, indeed, sometimes
threatened transient rebellion, and announced opposition in the tone of
one determined to conquer or die; but, though justice might be on his
side, perseverance, a surer omen of success, was upon mine. Hour after
hour, nay, day after day, I could whine, pout, or importune, encouraged
by the remembrance of former victories. My obstinacy always at length
prevailed, and of course gathered strength for future combat. Nor did it
signify how trivial might be the matter originally in dispute. Nothing
could be unimportant which opposed my sovereign will. That will became
every day more imperious; so that, however much it governed others, I
was myself still more its slave, knowing no rest or peace but in its
gratification. I had often occasion to rue its triumphs, since not even
the cares of my fond mother could always shield me from the consequences
of my perverseness; and by the time I had reached my eighth year, I was
one of the most troublesome, and, in spite of great natural hilarity of
temper, at times one of the most unhappy beings, in that great
metropolis which contains such variety of annoyance and of misery.

Upon retracing this sketch of the progress and consequences of my early
education, I begin to fear, that groundless censure may fall upon the
guardians of my infancy; and that defect of understanding or of
principle may be imputed to those who so unsuccessfully executed their
trust. Let me hasten to remove such a prejudice. My father's
understanding was respectable in the line to which he chose to confine
its exertions. Indifference to my happiness or my improvement cannot
surely be alleged against him, for I was the pride of his heart. I have
seen him look up from his newspaper, while reading the 'shipping
intelligence,' or the opposition speeches, to listen to the praises of
my beauty or my talents; and, except when his temper was irritated by my
perverseness, I was the object of his almost exclusive affection. But he
was a man of business. His days were spent in the toil and bustle of
commerce; and, if the evening brought him to his home, it was not
unnatural that he should there seek domestic peace and relaxation,--a
purpose wholly incompatible with the correction of a spoiled child. My
mother was indeed one of the finer order of spirits. She had an elegant,
a tender, a pious mind. Often did she strive to raise my young heart to
Him from whom I had so lately received my being. But, alas! her too
partial fondness overlooked in her darling the growth of that pernicious
weed, whose shade is deadly to every plant of celestial origin. She
continued unconsciously to foster in me that spirit of pride, which may
indeed admit the transient admiration of excellence, or even the passing
fervours of gratitude, but which is manifestly opposite to vital
piety;--to that piety which consists in a surrender of self-will, of
self-righteousness, of self in every form, to the Divine justice,
holiness, and sovereignty. It was, perhaps, for training us to this
temper, of such difficult, yet such indispensable attainment, that the
discipline of parental authority was intended. I have long seen reason
to repent the folly which deprived me of the advantages of this useful
apprenticeship, but this conviction has been the fruit of discipline far
more painful.

In the mean time, my self-will was preparing for me an immediate
punishment, and eventually a heavy, and irremediable misfortune. I had
just entered my ninth year, when one evening an acquaintance of my
mother's sent me an invitation to her box in the theatre. As I had been
for some days confined at home by a cold, and sore throat, my mother
judged it proper to refuse. But the message had been unwarily delivered
in my hearing, and I was clamorous for permission to go. The danger of
compliance being, in this instance, manifest, my mother resisted my
entreaties with unwonted firmness. After arguing with me, and soothing
me in vain, she took the tone of calm command, and forbade me to urge
her further. I then had recourse to a mode of attack which I often found
successful, and began to scream with all my might. My mother, though
with tears in her eyes, ordered a servant to take me out of the room.
But, at the indignity of plebeian coercion, my rage was so nearly
convulsive, that, in terror, she consented to let me remain, upon
condition of quietness. I was, however, so far from fulfilling my part
of this compact, that my father, who returned in the midst of the
contest, lost patience; and, turning somewhat testily to my mother,
said, 'The child will do herself more harm by roaring there, than by
going to fifty plays.'

I observed (for my agonies by no means precluded observation) that my
mother only replied by a look, which seemed to say that she could have
spared this apostrophe; but my father growing a little more out of
humour as he felt himself somewhat in the wrong, chose to answer to that
look, by saying, in an angry tone, 'It really becomes you well, Mrs
Percy, to pretend that I spoil the child, when you know you can refuse
her nothing.'

'That, I fear,' said my mother, with a sigh, 'will be Ellen's great
misfortune. Her dispositions seem such as to require restraint.'

'Poh!' quoth my father, 'her dispositions will do well enough. A woman
is the better for a spice of the devil!'--an aphorism, which we have
owed at first to some gentleman who, like my father, had slender
experience in the pungencies of female character.

Gathering hopes from this dialogue, I redoubled my vociferation, till my
father, out of all patience, closed the contest, as others had been
closed before, by saying, 'Well, well, you perverse, ungovernable brat,
do take your own way, and have done with it.' I instantly profited by
the permission, was dressed, and departed for the play.

I paid dearly for my triumph. The first consequence of it was a
dangerous fever. My mother,--but what words can do justice to the cares
which saved my quivering life; what language shall paint the tenderness
that watched my restless bed, and pillowed my aching temples on her
bosom; that shielded from the light the burning eye, and warded from
every sound the morbid ear; that persevered in these cares of love till
nature failed beneath the toil, and till, with her own precious life,
she had redeemed me from the grave! My mother--first, fondest love of my
soul! is this barren, feeble record, the only return I can make for all
thy matchless affection?

After hanging for three weeks upon the very brink of the grave, I
recovered. But anxiety and fatigue had struck to the gentlest, the
kindest of hearts; and she to whom I twice owed my life, was removed
from me before I had even a thought of my vast debt of gratitude. For
some months her decline was visible to every eye, except that of the
poor heedless being who had most reason to dread its progress. Yet even
I, when I saw her fatigued with my importunate prattle, or exhausted by
my noisy merriment, would check my spirits, soften my voice to a
whisper, and steal round her sofa on tiptoe. Ages would not efface from
my mind the tenderness with which she received these feeble attributes
of an affection, alas! so dearly earned. By degrees, the constant
intercourse which had been the blessing of my life was exchanged for
short occasional visits to my mother's chamber. Again these were
restricted to a few moments, while the morning lent her a short-lived
vigour; and a few more, while I received her evening blessing.

At length three days passed, in which I had not seen my mother. I was
then summoned to her presence; and, full of the improvident rapture of
childhood, I bounded gaily to her apartment. But all gladness fled, when
my mother, folding me in her arms, burst into a feeble cry, followed by
the big convulsive sob which her weakness was unable to repress. Many a
time did she press her pale lips to every feature of my face; and often
strove to speak, but found no utterance. An attendant, who was a
stranger to me, now approached to remove me, saying, that my mother
would injure herself. In the dread of being parted from her child, my
fond parent found momentary strength; and, still clinging to me, hid her
face on my shoulder, and became more composed. 'Ellen,' said she, in a
feeble broken voice, 'lift up thy little hands, and pray that we may
meet again.' Unconscious of her full meaning, I knelt down by her; and,
resting my lifted hands upon her knees as I was wont to do while she
taught me to utter my infant petitions, I said, 'Oh! let mamma see her
dear Ellen again!' Once more she made me repeat my simple prayer; then,
bending over me, she rested her locked hands upon my head, and the
warmth of a last blessing burst into tremulous interrupted whispers. One
only of these parting benedictions is imprinted on my mind. Wonder
impressed it there at first; and, when nearly effaced by time, the
impression was restored with force irresistible. These were the
well-remembered words: 'Oh be kinder than her earthly parents, and show
thyself a father, though it be in chastising.'

Many a tender wish did she breathe, long since forgotten by her
thoughtless child, till at last the accents of love were again lost in
the thick struggling sobs of weakness. Again the attendant offered to
remove me; and I, half-wearied with the sadness of the scene, was not
unwilling to go. Yet I tried to soothe a sorrow which I could not
comprehend, by promising that I would soon return. Once more, with the
strength of agony, my mother pressed me to her bosom; then, turning away
her head, she pushed me gently from her. I was led from her chamber--the
door closed--I heard again the feeble melancholy cry, and her voice was
silent to my ear for ever.

The next day I pleaded in vain to see my mother. Another came, and every
face looked mournfully busy. I saw not my father; but the few domestics
who approached me, gazed sadly on my childish pastime, or uttered an
expression of pity, and hurried away. Unhappily, I scarcely knew why, I
remembered my resort in all my little distresses, and insisted upon
being admitted to my mother. My attendant long endeavoured to evade
compliance, and when she found me resolute, was forced to tell the
melancholy truth. She had so often combated my wilfulness by deceit,
that I listened without believing; yet, when I saw her serious
countenance, something like alarm added to my impatience, and, bursting
from her, I flew to my mother's chamber.

The door which used to fly open at my signal was fastened, and no one
answered my summons; but the key remained in the lock, and I soon
procured admission. All seemed strangely altered since I saw it last. No
trace appeared of my mother's presence. Here reigned the order and the
stillness of desolation. The curtains were drawn back, and the bed
arranged with more than wonted care: yet it seemed pressed by the
semblance of a human form. I drew away the cover, and beheld my mother's
face. I thought she slept; yet the stern quietness of her repose was
painful to me. 'Wake, dear mamma,' I hastily cried, and wondered when
the smile of love answered not my call. I reached my hand to touch her
cheek, and started at its coldness; yet, still childishly incredulous of
my loss, I sprang upon the bed, and threw my arm round her neck.

A frightful shriek made me turn, and I beheld my attendant stretching
her arms towards me, as if fearing to approach. Her looks of horror and
alarm,--her incoherent expressions,--the motionless form before me, at
last convinced me of the truth; and all the vulgar images of death and
sepulture rushing on my mind, I burst into agonies of mingled grief and
fear. To be carried hence by strangers, laid in the earth, shut out for
ever from the light and from me!--I clung to the senseless clay,
resolved, while I had life, to shield my dear mother from such a fate.

My cries assembled the family, who attempted to withdraw me from the
scene. In vain they endeavoured to persuade or to terrify me. I
continued to hang on the bosom which had nourished me, and to mingle my
cries of Mother! mother! with vows that I would never leave her, not
though they should hide me with her in the earth. At last my father
commanded the servants to remove me by force. In vain I struggled and
shrieked in anguish. I was torn from her,--and the tie was severed for
ever!




CHAPTER II

    _Such little wasps, and yet so full of spite;
    For bulk mere insects, yet in mischief strong._

                                             Tate's Juvenal


For some hours I was inconsolable; but at length tired nature befriended
me, and I wept myself to sleep. The next morning, before I was
sufficiently awake for recollection, I again, in a confused sense of
pain, began my instinctive wailing. I was, however, somewhat comforted
by the examination of my new jet ornaments; and the paroxysms of my
grief thenceforth returned at lengthening intervals, and with abating
force. Yet when I passed my mother's chamber-door, and remembered that
all within was desolate, I would cast myself down at the threshold, and
mix with shrieks of agony the oft-repeated cry of Mother! mother! Or,
when I was summoned to the parlour, where no one now was concerned to
promote my pastimes, or remove my difficulties, or grant my
requests,--on the failure of some of my little projects, I would lean my
head on her now vacant seat, and vent a quieter sorrow, till reproof
swelled it into loud lamentation.

These passing storms my father found to be very hostile to the calm
which he had promised himself in a fortnight of decent seclusion from
the cares of the counting-house. Besides, I became, in other respects,
daily more troublesome. The only influence which could bend my stubborn
will being now removed, he was hourly harassed with complaints of my
refractory conduct. It was constantly, 'Sir, Miss Ellen won't go to
bed,'--'Sir, Miss Ellen won't get up,'--'Sir, Miss Ellen won't have her
hair combed,'--'Sir, Miss Ellen won't learn her lesson.' My father
having tried his authority some half-a-dozen times in vain, declared,
not without reason, that the child was completely spoiled; so, by way
of a summary cure for the evil, so far at least as it affected himself,
he determined to send me to a fashionable boarding-school.

In pursuance of this determination I was conveyed to ---- House, then
one of the most polite seminaries of the metropolis, and committed to
the tuition of Madame Dupre. My father, who did not pique himself on his
acquaintance with the mysteries of education, gave no instructions in
regard to mine, except that expense should not be spared on it; and he
certainly never found reason to complain that this injunction was
neglected. For my own part, I submitted, without opposition, to the
change in my situation. The prospect of obtaining companions of my own
age reconciled me to quitting the paternal roof, which I had of late
found a melancholy abode.

A school,--it has been observed so often, that we are all tired of the
observation,--a school is an epitome of the world. I am not even sure
that the bad passions are not more conspicuous in the baby commonwealth,
than among the 'children of a larger growth;' since, in after-life,
experience teaches some the policy of concealing their evil
propensities; while others, in a course of virtuous effort, gain
strength to subdue them. Be that as it may, I was scarcely domesticated
in my new abode ere I began at once to indulge and to excite the most
unamiable feelings of our nature.

'What a charming companion Miss Percy will make for Lady Maria,' said
one of the teachers to another who was sitting near her. 'Yes,' returned
the other in a very audible whisper, 'and a lovely pair they are.' The
first speaker, directing to me a disapproving look, lowered her voice,
and answered something of which only the words 'not to be compared'
reached my ear. The second, with seeming astonishment at the sentiments
of her opponent, and a glance of complacency to me, permitted me to hear
that the words 'animation,' 'sensibility,' 'intelligence,' formed part
of her reply. The first drew up her head, giving her antagonist a
disdainful smile; and the emphatical parts of her speech were, 'air of
fashion,' 'delicacy,' 'mien of noble birth,' &c. &c. A comparison was
next instituted aloud between the respective ages of Lady Maria and
myself; and at this point of the controversy, the said Lady Maria
happened to enter the room.

I must confess that I had reason to be flattered by any personal
comparison between myself and my little rival, who was indeed one of the
loveliest children in the world. So dazzling was the fairness of her
complexion, so luxuriant her flaxen hair, so bright her large blue
eyes, that, in my approbation of her beauty, I forgot to draw from the
late conversation an obvious inference in favour of my own. But I was
not long permitted to retain this desirable abstraction from self. 'Here
is a young companion for you, Lady Maria,' said the teacher:--'come, and
I will introduce you to each other.'

Her little Ladyship, eyeing me askance, answered, 'I can't come now--the
dress-maker is waiting to fit on my frock.'

'Come hither at once when you are desired, young lady,' said my
champion, in no conciliating tone; and Lady Maria, pouting her pretty
under lip, obeyed.

The teacher, who seemed to take pleasure in thwarting her impatience to
begone, detained her after the introduction, till it should be
ascertained which of us was eldest, and then till we should measure
which was tallest. Lady Maria, who had confessed herself to be two years
older than I was, reddened with mortification when my champion
triumphantly declared me to have the advantage in stature. It was not
till the little lady seemed thoroughly out of humour that she was
permitted to retire; and I saw her no more till we met in school, where
the same lesson was prescribed to both. Desirous that the first
impression of my abilities should be favourable, I was diligent in
performing my task. Perhaps some remains of ill-humour made Lady Maria
neglect hers. Of consequence, I was commended, Lady Maria reproved. Had
the reproof and the commendation extended only to our respective degrees
of diligence, the equitable sentence would neither have inflamed the
conceit of the one, nor the jealousy of the other; but my former
champion, whose business it was to examine our proficiency, incautiously
turned the spirit of competition into a channel not only unprofitable
but mischievous, by making our different success the test of our
abilities, not of our industry; and while I cast a triumphant glance
upon my fair competitor, I saw her eyes fill with tears not quite 'such
as angels shed.'

At length we were all dismissed to our pastimes; and 'every one strolled
off his own glad way;' every one but I; who finding myself, for the
first time in my life, of consequence to nobody, and restrained partly
by pride, partly by bashfulness, from making advances to my new
associates, sat down alone, looking wistfully from one merry party to
another. My attention was arrested by a group more quiet than the rest;
where, however, my new rival seemed to play the orator, speaking very
earnestly to two of her companions, and laying one hand on the shoulder
of each, as if to enforce attention. Her Ladyship spoke in whispers, for
good manners are not hereditary; casting, at intervals, such glances
towards me as showed that I was the subject of remarks not over
laudatory.

Presently the group began to move; and Lady Maria, leading it, as if by
accident, to the place where I sat, accosted me with an air of
restrained haughtiness. 'Pray, Miss Percy,' said she, 'are you of the
Duke of Northumberland's family?'--'No,' answered I.--'What Percys,
then, do you belong to?'--'I belong to my father, Mr. Percy, the great
West India merchant, in Bloomsbury Square,' returned I, not doubting
that my consequence would be raised by this information. To my great
surprise, however, Lady Maria's ideas of my importance did not seem
affected by this intelligence; for she said in a familiar tone, 'But who
was your grandfather, my dear? I suppose you had a grandfather!'--and
she looked round for applause at this sally.

Now it happened that I was then wholly ignorant of the dignity which may
be derived from this relative, having never heard whether I had a
grandfather or not; but I plainly perceived that the question was not
graciously meant; and therefore I answered, with mixed simplicity and
ill-humour, 'Oh! I am not a fool,--I know I must have had a grandfather;
but I think he could not be a duke, for I have heard papa say he had
just five shillings to begin the world with!'

'So, for aught you can tell,' said Lady Maria, shrugging her shoulders
and tittering, 'your father may be the son of a blacksmith or a
cobbler!'

'No, no,' interrupted one of her Ladyship's abettors, 'don't you hear
Miss Percy say that he owed his being to a crown!'

This piece of boarding-school wit seemed to delight Lady Maria, who,
looking me full in the face, burst into a most vociferous fit of
laughter; an impertinence which I resented with more spirit than
elegance, by giving her Ladyship a hearty box on the ear. A moment of
dead silence ensued; the by-standers looking at each in consternation,
while my pretty antagonist collected her breath for screams of pain and
rage.

The superior powers were speedily assembled on the field of conflict;
and the grounds of quarrel were investigated. The incivility of mine
adversaries was reproved; but my more heinous outrage was judged worthy
of imprisonment. In consequence of my being a stranger, it was proposed
that this punishment should be remitted, upon condition of my
apologising to Lady Maria, and promising future good behaviour. With
these conditions, however, I positively refused to comply; declaring
that, if they were necessary to my release, I would remain in
confinement till my father removed me from school. In vain did the
teachers entreat, and Madame Dupre command. I insisted, with sobs of
indignation, that Lady Maria was justly punished for her impertinence;
and stoutly asserted my right to defend myself from aggression. The
maintenance of order required that I should be subdued; and, finding me
altogether inflexible in regard to the terms of capitulation, the
governess, in spite of the wildest transports of my rage, committed me
to close custody.

Left to itself, my fury, by degrees, subsided into sullen resolution.
Conceiving that I had been unjustly treated, I determined not to yield.
This humour lasted till the second day of my captivity, when I began to
entertain some thoughts of a compromise with my dignity. Yet, when the
original terms were again proposed to me without abatement, pride
forbade me to accept what I had so often refused; and I remained another
day in durance. At last, when I was heartily wearied of solitude and
inaction, I received a visit from my champion; and though I had
stubbornly withstood higher authority, I was moved by remembrance of the
favour she had shown me, to consent, that, provided Lady Maria would
humble herself before me for her impertinence, I would apologise for the
blow which I had given. It was now her Ladyship's turn to be obstinate.
She refused to comply; so after another day's confinement I was
liberated unconditionally, as having sufficiently expiated my fault.

From that time an ill-humour prevailed between Lady Maria and myself,
which was kept alive by mutual indications of insolence and ill-will. It
had too little dignity to bear the name of hatred; and might rather be
characterised as a kind of snappishness, watchful to give and to take
offence. Our companions enlisted in our quarrels. By degrees almost
every girl in the school had been drawn to engage on one side or other;
and our mutual bickerings were often carried on with as much rancour as
ever envenomed the contests of Whig and Tory.

Of all my adherents, the last to declare in my favour, the most steady
when fixed, was Miss Juliet Arnold, the daughter of an insurance-broker
lately deceased. Mr Arnold, finding it impossible to derive from himself
or his ancestors sufficient consequence to satisfy his desires, was
obliged to draw for importance upon posterity, by becoming the founder
of a family; therefore, leaving his daughter almost in a state of
dependence, he bequeathed the bulk of a considerable fortune to his son.
This young gentleman calculated that the most frugal way of providing
for his sister would be to aid her in obtaining an establishment. Miss
Juliet Arnold, therefore, was educated to be married.

Let no simple reader, trained by an antiquated grandmother in the
country, imagine my meaning to be that Miss Arnold was practised in the
domestic, the economical, the submissive virtues; that she was skilled
in excusing frailty, enlivening solitude, or scattering sunshine upon
the passing clouds of life!--I only mean that Miss Arnold was taught
accomplishments which were deemed likely to attract notice and
admiration; that she knew what to withdraw from the view, and what to
prepare for exhibition; that she was properly instructed in the value of
settlements; and duly convinced of the degradation and misery of failure
in the grand purpose of a lady's existence. For the rest, nature had
done much to qualify Juliet for her profession; for she had a pliant
temper, and an easy address; she could look undesigning, and flatter
fearlessly; her manners were caressing, her passions cool, and her
person was generally agreeable, without being handsome enough to awaken
the caution of the one sex or the envy of the other. Even when a child,
she had an instinctive preference for companions superior to herself in
rank and fortune; and though she was far from being a general favourite,
was sure to make herself acceptable where she chose to conciliate.

Miss Arnold balanced long between my party and that of Lady Maria de
Burgh. She affected to be equally well inclined to both, and even
assumed the character of mediatrix. An invitation from Lady Maria to
spend the holidays at the seat of her father the Duke of C----, entirely
alienated Miss Arnold from my interests for a time; but just as she had
finished her preparations for the important journey, the fickle dame of
quality transferred her choice of a travelling companion to a young lady
of her own rank, whose holiday festivities she was desirous of sharing
in her turn.

From this time, Miss Arnold was my firm ally. She praised me much,
defended me pertinaciously, and, right or wrong, embraced my opinions.
Of course, she convinced me of her ardent affection for me; and I,
accustomed almost from my birth to love with my whole heart, seized the
first object that promised to fill the place which was now vacant there.
Miss Arnold and I, therefore, became inseparable. We espoused each
other's quarrels, abetted each other's frolics, assisted each other's
plots, and excused each other's misdemeanours. I smuggled forbidden
novels into school for her; and she introduced contraband sweetmeats for
me. In short, to use the language often applied to such confederations,
we were 'great friends.'

This compact was particularly advantageous to me; for having, partly
from nature, partly from habitual confidence of indulgence, a tendency
to blunt plain-dealing, I was altogether inadequate to the invention of
the hundred sly tricks and convenient excuses which I owed to the
superior genius of my confederate. Often when I would have resigned
myself, like a simpleton, to merited reproof, did she, with a bold
flight of imagination, interpose, and bear me through in triumph. If
these efforts of invention had been made in the cause of another, I
might have been tempted to brand them with their proper title; as it
was, I first learnt to pardon them because of their good nature, and
then to admire them for their ingenuity.

Meanwhile our education proceeded _selon les regles_. We were taught the
French and Italian languages; but, in as far as was compatible with
these acquisitions, we remained in ignorance of the accurate science, or
elegant literature to which they might have introduced us. We learnt to
draw landscape; but, secluded from the fair originals of nature, we
gained not one idea from the art, except such as were purely mechanical.
Miss Arnold painted beautiful fans, and I was an adept in the
manufacture of card purses and match figures. But had we been restricted
to the use of such apparel as we could make, I fear we should have been
reduced to even more than fashionable scantiness of attire. The
advertisements from ---- House protested that 'the utmost attention
should be paid to the morals of the pupils;' which promise was
performed, by requiring, that every Sunday afternoon, we should repeat
by rote a page of the Catechism, after which we were sent 'forth to
meditate, at even tide,' in the Park. We were instructed in the art of
wearing our clothes fashionably, and arranging our decorations with
grace and effect; but as for 'the ornaments of a meek and quiet spirit,'
they were in no higher estimation at ---- House than 'wimples and round
tires like the moon.'

At the end of seven years of laborious and expensive trifling, the only
accomplishment, perhaps, in which I had attained real proficiency, was
music. I had naturally a clear voice, a delicate ear, and a strong
sensibility to sweet sounds; but I should never have exercised the
perseverance necessary to excellence, had it not been from emulation of
Lady Maria de Burgh. This stimulant, of doubtful character, even when
untainted with the poison of enmity, operated so effectually, that I at
last outstripped all my competitors; and my musical powers were
pronounced equal to any which the public may command for hire. This
acquisition (I blush whilst I write it) cost me the labour of seven
hours a day!--full half the time which, after deducting the seasons of
rest and refreshment, remained for all the duties of a rational, a
social, an immortal being! Wise Providence! was it to be squandered
thus, that leisure was bestowed upon a happy few!--leisure, the most
precious distinction of wealth!--leisure, the privilege of Eden! for
which fallen man must so often sigh and toil in vain!

Not such were the sentiments with which at sixteen I reviewed my
acquirements. I considered them as not less creditable to my genius and
industry, than suitable to the sphere in which I expected to move; and I
earnestly longed to exhibit them in a world which my imagination peopled
with admiring friends. I had, besides, an indistinct desire to challenge
notice for gifts of more universal attraction. I knew that I was rich; I
more than half suspected that I was handsome; and my heart throbbed to
taste the pleasures and the pomps of wealth, but much more to claim the
respectful homage, the boundless sway, which I imagined to be the
prerogative of beauty.

In the summer of my sixteenth year, Lady Maria was removed from school
to accompany the duchess her mother, on a tour to the watering places;
and the accounts with which she favoured her less fortunate companions,
of her dresses, her amusements, and her beaux, stimulated my impatience
for release. My father at last yielded to my importunities; and
consented, that, at the beginning of the fashionable winter, I should
enter a world which looked so alluring from afar; where the objects,
like sparks glittering in the distant fallow, flashed with a splendour
which they owed only to the position of the eye that gazed on them.




CHAPTER III

    _Lamented goodness!--Yet I see
      The fond affection melting in her eye.
    She bends its tearful orb on me,
      And heaves the tender sigh;
    As thoughtful she the toils surveys,
    That crowd in life's perplexing maze._

                                             Langhorne


My father signalised my return from school by a change in his mode of
life. He had been accustomed to repair regularly every morning at ten
o'clock, to the counting-house; and there, or upon 'Change, he spent the
greater part of the day in a routine of business, which twenty years had
seen uninterrupted, save by the death of my mother, and a weekly journey
to his villa at Richmond, where he always spent Saturday and Sunday.
Upon placing me at the head of his establishment, my father, not aware
of the difference between possessing leisure and enjoying it, determined
to shake off, in part, the cares of business, and to exchange a life of
toil for one of recreation, or rather of repose. Upon this account, and
tempted by a valuable consideration, he admitted into the house a junior
partner, who undertook to perform all the drudgery of superintending one
of the most extensive mercantile concerns in London, while my father
retained a large share of the profits.

At the Christmas holidays I quitted school, impatient to enter on the
delights of womanhood. My father, whose ideas of relaxation were all
associated with his villa at Richmond, determined that I should there
spend the time which intervened before the commencement of the gay
winter. In compliance with my request, he invited Miss Arnold, whose
liberation took place at the same time with my own, to spend a few weeks
with me,--an invitation which was gladly accepted.

This indulgence, however, was somewhat balanced by the presence of a
very different companion. My mother was a woman of real piety; and to
her was accorded that 'medicine of life,' which respectable authority
has assigned exclusively to persons of that character. She had a
'faithful friend.' This friend still survived, and in her my father
sought a kind and judicious adviser for my inexperience. He pressed her
to make his house her permanent abode, and to share with him in the
government of my turbulent spirit, until it should be consigned to other
authority. Miss Elizabeth Mortimer, therefore, though she refused to
relinquish entirely the independence of a home, left her cottage for a
while to the care of her only maid-servant; and rejoicing in an occasion
of manifesting affection for her departed friend, and pleasing herself
with the idea that one bond of sympathy yet remained between them,
prepared to revive her friendship to the mother in acts of kindness to
the child.

I regret to say that she was received with sentiments much less
amicable. Miss Arnold and I considered her as a spy upon our actions,
and a restraint upon our pleasures. We called her Argus and duenna;
voted her a stick, a bore, a quiz, or, to sum up all reproach in one
comprehensive epithet, a Methodist. Not that she really was a sectary.
On the contrary, she was an affectionate and dutiful daughter of the
establishment, countenancing schismatics no further, than by adopting
such of their doctrines and practices as are plainly scriptural, and by
testifying towards them, on all occasions, whether of opposition or
conformity, a charity which evinced the divinity of its own origin. But
Miss Mortimer displayed a practical conviction, that grey hairs ought to
be covered with a cap; and that a neck of five-and-forty is the better
for a handkerchief; she attended church regularly; was seldom seen in a
public place; and, above all, was said to have the preposterous custom
of condescending to join her own servants in daily prayer. Miss Arnold
and I were persuaded that our duenna would attempt to import this
'pernicious superstition' into her new residence, and we resolved upon a
vigorous resistance of her authority.

Our spirit, however, was not put to the proof. Miss Mortimer affected no
authority. She seemed indeed anxious to be useful, but afraid to be
officious. She was even so sparing of direct advice, that, had she not
been the most humble of human beings, I should have said that she
trusted to the dignity and grace of her general sentiments, and the
beautiful consistency of her example, for effecting the enormous
transition from what I was to what I ought to be.

Her gentleness converted the dislike of her charge into feelings
somewhat less hostile. My friend and I could find nothing offensive in
her singularities; we therefore attempted to make them amusing. We
invented dismal cases of calamity, and indited piteous appeals to her
charity, making her often trudge miles over the snow in search of
fictitious objects of compassion; that we might laugh at the credulity
which was never deaf to the cry of want, and at the principle which
refused to give without enquiry. We hid her prayer-book; purloined her
hoards of baby linen and worsted stockings; and pasted caricatures on
the inside of her pew in church.

Much of the zest of these excellent jokes was destroyed by the calm
temper and perverse simplicity of Miss Mortimer. If by chance she was
betrayed into situations really ludicrous, nobody laughed with more
hearty relish than she. Even on the more annoying of these practical
jests, she smiled with good-natured contempt; never, even by the
slightest glance, directing to Miss Arnold or myself the pity which she
expressed for the folly of the contriver. We could never perceive that
she suspected us of being her persecutors; and her simplicity, whether
real or affected, compelled us to a caution and respect which we would
have renounced had we been openly detected. Our jokes, however, such as
they were, we carried on with no small industry and perseverance; every
day producing some invention more remarkable for mischief than for wit.
At last the tragical issue of one of our frolics inclined me to a
suspension of hostilities; and had it not been for the superior firmness
of my friend Miss Arnold, I believe I should have finally laid down my
arms.

We were invited one day to dine with a neighbouring gentleman, a
widower; whose family of dissipated boys and giddy girls were the chosen
associates of Miss Arnold and myself. My father was otherwise engaged,
and could not go; but Miss Mortimer accepted the invitation, very little
to the satisfaction of the junior members of the party, who had
projected a plan for the evening, with which her presence was likely to
interfere. Miss Arnold and I, therefore, exerted all our ingenuity to
keep her at home. We spilt a dish of tea upon her best silk gown; we
pressed her to eat pine-apple in hopes of exasperating her toothach;
and we related to her a horrible robbery and murder which had been
committed only the night before, in the very lane through which we were
to pass. These and many other contrivances proved ineffectual. As Miss
Mortimer could not wear her best gown, she could go in a worse; she
would not eat pine-apple; and she insisted that those who had committed
the murder only the night before must be bloody-minded indeed if they
were ready to commit another. Next I bribed the coachman to say that the
barouche could not stir till it was repaired; but my father, who, on
this occasion, seemed as determined as Miss Mortimer, insisting that we
should go under her auspices or not go at all, settled that Miss Arnold
should ride, while I drove Miss Mortimer in the curricle.

Highly displeased with this decision, I resolved that Miss Mortimer,
whose forte certainly was not strength of nerve, should rue the mettle
of her charioteer. With this good-natured purpose, I privately arranged
that a race should be run between my steeds, and those which were
mounted by Miss Arnold, and one of the fry which had already begun to
swarm round the rich Miss Percy. We set off quietly enough, but we were
no sooner out of sight of my father's windows, than the signal was
given, and away we flew with the speed of lightning. I saw poor Miss
Mortimer look aghast, though she betrayed no other sign of fear, and I
had a malicious triumph in the thoughts of compelling her to sue for
quarter.

'Is it not better, my dear,' said she at last, 'to drive a little more
deliberately? The road is narrow here, and if we were to run over some
poor creature, I know you would never forgive yourself.'

There was such irresistible mildness in the manner of this
expostulation, that I could not disregard it; and I was checking my
horses at the moment, when my beau, who had fallen behind, suddenly
passed me. He gave them a triumphant smack with his whip, and the
high-mettled animals sprang forward with a vigour that baffled my
opposition: At this moment a decent-looking woman, in standing aside to
let me pass, unfortunately threw herself into the line of his course;
and I felt the horror which I deserved to feel, when my companions, each
bounding over her, left her lying senseless within a step of the
destruction which I had lost the power to avert.

From the guilt of murder I was saved by the fortitude of a stranger. He
boldly seized the rein; and, with British strength of arm turning the
horses short round, they reared, backed, and in an instant overturned
the carriage. The stranger, alarmed by this consequence of his
interference, hastened to extricate Miss Mortimer and myself; while our
jockeys, too intent on the race to look back, were already out of sight.

Miss Mortimer looked pale as death, and trembled exceedingly; yet the
moment she was at liberty she flew to the poor woman, whom the stranger
raised from the ground. They chafed her temples, and administered every
little remedy which they could command, while I stood gazing on her in
inactive alarm. At length she opened her eyes; and so heavy a weight was
lifted from my heart, that I could not refrain from bursting into tears;
but unwilling to exhibit these marks of a reproving conscience, I turned
proudly away.

It soon appeared that the woman was not materially hurt,--the horses,
more sagacious and humane than their riders, having cleared without
striking her. Her cottage was not fifty yards distant from the spot, and
Miss Mortimer, with the stranger, conducted her home; whilst I stood
biting my glove, and affecting to superintend the people who were
raising our overturned vehicle. The charitable pair soon returned.
Neither of us being inclined to mount the curricle again, Miss Mortimer
proposed that we should walk home, and send an apology to our party. But
dreading that the temptation of an evening's _tete-a-tete_ might draw
something like a lecture from Miss Mortimer, I determined to accomplish
my visit; and she consented that we should proceed on foot, giving, at
the same time, permission to her companion to attend us.

I felt a sullen disinclination to talk, and therefore had full leisure
to examine the stranger, whom Miss Mortimer introduced to me by the name
of Maitland, adding that he was her old acquaintance. He was a tall,
erect man, of a figure more athletic than graceful. His features were
tolerably regular, and his eyes the brightest I have ever seen; but he
was deprived of his pretensions to be called handsome, by a certain
_bony_ squareness of countenance, which we on the south side of the
Tweed are accustomed to account a national deformity. His smile was
uncommonly pleasing, either from its contrast with the ordinary cast of
his countenance, or because it displayed the whitest and most regular
teeth in the world; but he smiled so seldom as almost to forfeit these
advantages. His accent was certainly provincial; yet I believe that,
without the assistance of his name, I could not decidedly have
pronounced him to be a Scotchman. His language, however, was that of a
gentleman; always correct, often forcible, and sometimes elegant. But he
spoke little, and his conversation borrowed neither strength nor grace
from his manner, which was singularly calm, motionless, and
unimpassioned.

Either from habitual reserve with strangers, or from particular
disapprobation of me, he addressed himself almost entirely to Miss
Mortimer, paying me no other attentions than bare civility required; and
I, who had already begun to expect far other devoirs, from every man who
accosted me, rejoiced when the conclusion of our walk separated us from
the presumptuous being who had dared to treat me as a secondary person.

As soon as we entered Mr Vancouver's house, my young companions
surrounded me, laughing and hallooing,--'Beaten, beaten,--fairly
beaten!' The victors pressed forward before the rest. 'Down with your
five guineas, Ellen,' cried Miss Arnold.--'Oh! faith 'twas a hollow
thing!' shouted the other. Real sorrow for my fault would have made me
gentle to those of my fellow-transgressors; but the shame of a proud
heart had a contrary effect.--'Take your five guineas,' said I, throwing
them my purse with great disdain, 'and you had better help yourself to a
little more--_that_ will scarcely repay the risk of being tried for
murder.' My ill-humour effected an instantaneous change on the
countenances of the group. Miss Arnold, quite crest-fallen, picked up
the purse, and stood twisting it in her hand, looking very silly, while
she tried to excuse herself, and to throw all the blame upon her
companion. He retorted, and their mutual recriminations were
occasionally renewed during the afternoon; banishing whatever good
humour had been spared by the disappointment which Miss Mortimer had
undesignedly occasioned. At last, to our mutual satisfaction, the party
separated; and Miss Mortimer, with her hopeful charge, returned home.

Never, during the whole day, did a syllable of reproof escape the lips
of Miss Mortimer. She seemed willing to leave me to my conscience, and
confident that its sentence would be just. But when, on retiring for the
night, I could not help exclaiming, 'Thank heaven! this day is
done!'--she took my hand, and said, with a look of great kindness, 'Let
me dispose of one hour of your time to-morrow, dear Ellen, and I will
endeavour to make it pass more agreeably.' I felt no real gratitude for
her forbearance, because I had argued myself, with Miss Arnold's
assistance, into a conviction that Miss Mortimer had no right to
interfere; but I could not withstand the soothing gentleness of her
manner, and therefore promised that I should be at her command at any
hour she pleased.

Next day, therefore, while Miss Arnold was shopping in town, I became
the companion of Miss Mortimer's morning walk; but I own, I began to
repent of my complaisance, when I perceived that she was conducting me
to the cottage of the poor woman who had so nearly been the victim of my
late frolic. 'Is this,' thought I, 'the way that Miss Elizabeth fulfils
her promise of making the hour pass agreeably? Such a finesse might do
mighty well for a methodist; but what would she have said, had I been
the author of it? It is wonderfully delightful to detect the errors of a
saint. On first discovering our destination, my feelings had wavered
between shame and anger; but the detection of Miss Mortimer's supposed
peccadillo restored me to so much self-complacency, that I was able at
least to conceal my reluctance, and entered the cottage with a pretty
good grace.

The apartment was clean and comfortable. The furniture, though simple,
was rather more abundant and more tasteful than is common in the abodes
of labour. Two neat shelves on the wall contained a few books; and in
the window stood a tambouring frame. On one side of the fire-place our
old woman was busy at her spinning-wheel; on the other, in all the ease
of a favourite, lay a beautiful Italian greyhound. Miss Mortimer, with
the frankness of old acquaintance, accosted our hostess, who received
her with respectful kindness. While they were asking and answering
questions of courtesy and good-will, the dog, who had started up on our
entrance, did the honours to me. He looked up in my face, smelled my
clothes, examined me again, and, wagging his tail, seemed to claim
acquaintance. I, too, thought I remembered the animal, though I could
not recollect where I had seen him; and I own, I was glad to relieve a
certain embarrassment which the old woman's presence occasioned me, by
returning his caresses with interest.

'Mrs Wells,' said Miss Mortimer, when she had finished her enquiries, 'I
have brought Miss Percy to visit you.'

In spite of my affected nonchalance, I was not a little relieved when I
discovered, by the old woman's answer, that she had not recognised me as
the author of her accident. 'Miss Ellen!' she exclaimed, as if with
surprise and pleasure. Then taking my hand with a sort of obsequious
affection, she said, 'Dear young lady, I should never have known you
again, you are so grown! and I have never seen you since I lost my best
friend,' added she, shaking her head mournfully. 'Poor Fido,' resumed
she, 'he has more sagacity. He knew you again in a minute.'

'Fido, mamma's Fido!' cried I, and I stooped over the animal to hide the
tears that were rushing to my eyes.

'Yes, miss, your papa sent him here, because he said he did not like to
have him killed, being that he was but a young thing, and the very last
thing that worthy Mrs Percy had ever taken a liking to; and he could not
keep him about the house, because you never set eyes on him but you
cried fit to break your heart. So he sent him here, where he was very
welcome, as he had a good right to be, having belonged to her; for it
was owing to her that I had a home to bring him to.'

'How was that?' enquired I, with some eagerness; for, to this day, my
heart beats warm when I hear the praises of my mother.

'Why, ma'am,' returned she, 'my husband was a sober, industrious man,
but we were unfortunate in working for great people, who never thought
of our wants, because they had no wants of their own. So we became
bankrupt, and that went to my husband's heart; for he had a high spirit.
So he pined and pined away. I sold our little furniture, and then our
clothes; and paid for all honestly, as far as it would go. But what with
the doctors and what with the funeral, my two poor little girls and I
were quite destitute. I believe it was the second night after my Thomas
was laid in his grave, that my youngest girl was crying for bread, and I
had none to give her. I saw the eldest cry too; but she said it was not
for hunger. So, with one thing and another, I was desperate, and told
the children I would go and beg for them. The little one bid me go, for
she was hungry; but Sally said I should never beg for her, and followed
me to the door, holding me back, and crying bitterly. So, just then,
Providence sent that good spirit, Mrs Percy, by our house, and she
looked so earnestly at us--for it was not in her nature to see any
creature in sorrow, and pass by on the other side:--I thought I could
take courage to speak to her; but, when I tried it, I had not the heart;
for I had never begged before. But when she saw how things were, I did
not need to beg; for she had the heart of a Christian, and the hand of a
princess. She put us into this house, and gave us whatever was really
needful for us. I was a good worker with my needle then, though my eyes
are failing me now; and she got me as much work as I could overtake. She
came, besides, every forenoon herself, and taught my eldest girl to make
gowns, and my youngest to tambour, so that now they can earn their own
bread, and the most part of mine. Yes, Miss Ellen,' continued the woman,
perceiving that she had fixed my pleased attention, 'your worthy mother
did more than this; she brought heavenly hopes to me when I had few
hopes upon earth; she gave pious counsels to my children, and they
minded them the more for coming from so great a lady; so that they are
good girls, and a real comfort to my old age.'

After some further conversation, Miss Mortimer put an end to our visit.
I own I was somewhat struck with the contrast between the cottager's
obligations to my mother and to myself; and I had a desire to place this
matter on a footing less painful to my feelings, or, to speak more
justly, less galling to my pride. For this reason, when we had gone a
few steps from the cottage, I returned, pretending that I had forgotten
my handkerchief. 'Mrs Wells,' said I, 'I have a great desire to possess
Fido,--will you make an exchange with me?' continued I, presenting my
purse to her.

The good woman coloured deeply; and, drawing back with a little air of
stateliness, said, 'You are welcome to poor Fido, ma'am. Indeed, as for
that, your mother's child is welcome to the best I have; but I cannot
think of selling the poor dumb animal. No,' said she, her spirit
struggling with the sob that was rising in her throat, 'I shall be
poorly off indeed, before I sell the least thing that ever was hers.'

I own, I felt myself colour in my turn, as I awkwardly withdrew my
purse; and I had not the confidence to look the woman in the face, while
I said, 'Give me poor Fido, then, for my mother's sake; and perhaps the
time may come when you will allow me the pleasure of assisting you for
my own.'

'One of the girls, ma'am, shall take him to the Park this evening. I
know Miss Mortimer wished to have him, but you have the best right to
him; and I hope you will make him be kindly treated, ma'am; he is used
to kindness.'

I thanked the good woman, promised attention to her favourite, and
hurried away. Fido arrived at the Park that afternoon, and soon became
the most formidable rival of Miss Arnold; nor unjustly, for he was
playful, fawning, and seemingly affectionate,--the very qualities to
which she owed my favour.

'See, my dear Ellen,' said Miss Mortimer, when I rejoined her, 'see how
your mother's mornings were spent.' Had any one but my mother furnished
the subject of this apostrophe; or had my friend Miss Arnold been
present to witness its application, I should certainly have turned it
off, by ridiculing the absurdity of a handsome woman of fashion spending
her time in teaching cottage girls mantua-making and morality. But now,
tenderness stealing on my self-reproach, I only answered with a sigh,
'Ah! my mother was an angel; I must not pretend to resemble her.'

'My dearest child!' cried Miss Mortimer, catching my hand with more
animation than she had ever shown in speaking to me, 'why this ill-timed
humility? Born to such splendid advantages, why should you not aspire to
make your life a practical thanksgiving to the bestower? I acknowledge,
that your own strength is not "sufficient for these things," but He who
has called you to be perfect, will----'

'Oh! pray now, my good Miss Mortimer,' interrupted I, 'give over for
to-day,--I am more than half melancholy already. Ten or a dozen years
hence, I shall attend to all these matters.'

Before my reader comment on the wisdom of this reply, let him examine,
whether there be any more weight in the reasons which delay his own
endeavours after Christian perfection.

Our dialogue was interrupted by the appearance of Mr Maitland, who
alighted at the wicket of the cottage garden, with the intention of
enquiring after the widow; but, upon hearing that she felt no bad
effects from her accident, he gave his horse to his servant, and
accompanied us, or rather Miss Mortimer, to the Park. A few civil
enquiries were indeed, the only notice which he deigned to bestow upon
me; and, to own the truth, I was not at all more gracious to him.

At the door of Sedly Park, stood my father as usual with one arm resting
in the hollow of his back, the other supported by his gold-headed cane;
and he not only discomposed this favourite attitude by offering his hand
to Mr Maitland, but advanced some steps to meet him, a mark of regard
which I do not recollect having seen him bestow on any other visiter. He
followed up this courtesy, by pressing his guest to dine with him, and
Mr Maitland was at length induced to comply; while I stood wondering
what my father could mean, by expending so much civility upon a person
of whom nobody had ever heard before.

I cannot pretend to have made any observations upon Mr Maitland's
manners or conversation during this visit, having previously convinced
myself, that neither was worth observing. After dinner, while he
discoursed with my father and Miss Mortimer, I, agreeably to the polite
practice of many young ladies, formed, apart with Miss Arnold and the
young Vancouvers, a coterie which, if not the most entertaining, was at
least the most noisy part of the company; the sound and form holding due
proportion to the shallowness. My father made some ineffectual attempts
to reduce us to order; and Miss Mortimer endeavoured to dissolve our
combination, by addressing her remarks to me; but I, scarcely answering
her, continued to talk and titter apart with my companions till it was
time for our visiters to depart.

As soon as they were gone, my father strode gravely to the upper end of
the room, planted himself firmly with his back to the fire, and,
knitting his brows, addressed me as I stood at the further
window;--'Miss Percy,' said he 'I do not approve of your behaviour this
afternoon. I have placed you at the head of a splendid establishment,
and I desire you will consider it as your duty to entertain my
guests,--all my guests, Miss Percy.'

A few moments of dead silence followed, and my father quitted the room.

Had this well-deserved reproof been given in private, I might have
acknowledged its justice, but Miss Mortimer and my friend were present
to stimulate my abhorrence of blame; and, as soon as my father
disappeared, I began a surly complaint of his ill humour, wondering
'whether he expected me to sit starched by the side of every tiresome
old fellow he brought to his house, like the wooden cuts of William and
Mary.'

Miss Arnold joined me in ridiculing the absurdity of such an
expectation; but Miss Mortimer took part with my father. 'Indeed, my
dear,' said she, 'you must allow me to say, that Mr Percy's guests, of
whatever age, have an equal right to your attentions. I particularly
wish you had distributed them more impartially to-day; for I would have
had you appear with advantage to Mr Maitland, whom I imagine you would
not have found tiresome and who is certainly not very old.'

'Appear with advantage to Mr Maitland!' exclaimed I:--'oh! now the
murder is out. My father and Miss Mortimer want me to make a conquest of
Stiffy.'

Miss Arnold laughed immoderately at the idea. 'You make a conquest of Mr
Maitland!' repeated Miss Mortimer in her turn, gazing in my face with
grave simplicity; 'no, my dear, that, indeed, surpasses my expectation.
Mr Maitland!' exclaimed she again, in a sort of smiling soliloquy over
her knitting;--'no, that would indeed be too absurd.'

I own my pride was piqued by this opinion of Miss Mortimer's; and I felt
some inclination to convince her, that there was no such violent
absurdity in expecting that a stiff old bachelor should be caught by a
handsome heiress of seventeen. I half determined to institute a
flirtation.

The idea was too amusing to be abandoned, and Mr Maitland soon gave me
an opportunity of commencing my operations. He again visited Sedly Park;
and, in spite of several repulses, I contrived to draw him into
conversation; and even succeeded in obtaining my full share of his
attention. But when he rose to be gone, I recollected with surprise,
that I had spent half an hour without talking much nonsense, or hearing
any. Our second interview was not more effective. At the end of the
third I renounced my attack as utterly hopeless; and should as soon have
thought of shaping a dangler out of Cincinnatus. Mr Maitland's heart,
too, seemed as impregnable as his dignity; and I was glad to forget that
I had ever formed so desperate a project as an attempt upon either.

Our acquaintance, however, continued to make some progress; and if at
any luckless hour I happened to be deserted by more animating
companions, I could pass the time very tolerably with Mr Maitland. I
believe he was a scholar, and to this perhaps he owed that force and
variety of language which was often amusing, independently of the
sentiment which it conveyed. He possessed, besides, a certain dry
sententious humour, of which the effect was heightened by the inflexible
gravity of his countenance, and by the low tones of a voice altogether
unambitious of emphasis. His stiffness, which was too gentle for
hauteur, and too self-possessed for bashfulness, was a constitutional or
rather, perhaps, a national reserve; which made some amends for its
repulsive effect upon strangers, by gratifying the vanity of those who
were able to overcome it. I own that I was selfish enough to be
flattered by the distinction which he appeared to make between Miss
Arnold and myself; the more so, because there was, I know not what, in
Mr Maitland, which impressed me with the idea of a sturdy rectitude that
bowed to no extrinsic advantage. This gratification, however, was
balanced by the preference which he constantly showed for Miss Mortimer;
and such was my craving for adulation, that I was at times absolutely
nettled by this preference, although Mr Maitland was some years above
thirty.

Towards the end of our stay at Sedly Park, his visits became more
frequent; but in spite of his company, and that of many other gentlemen
more agreeable to me, I was dying with impatience for our removal to
town. My eagerness increased, when I accidentally heard, that Lady Maria
de Burgh had already started as the reigning beauty of the winter. When
this intelligence was conveyed to me, I was standing opposite to a large
mirror. I glanced towards it, recalled with some contempt the miniature
charms of my fairy competitor, and sprung away to entreat that my father
would immediately remove to town. But my father had already fixed the
fourteenth of January for his removal; and Miss Arnold alleged, that
nothing short of a fire would have hastened his departure, or reduced
him to the degradation of acquainting the family that he had changed his
mind.

The fourteenth of January, however, at length arrived, and I was
permitted to enter the scene of my imaginary triumphs.




CHAPTER IV

    _Next in the daunce followit invy,
    Fild full of feid and fellony,
    Hid malice and dispyte.
    For pryvie haterit that traitour trymlit;
    Him followit mony freik dissymlit,
    With fenyeit wordes quhyte;
    And flattereris into menis facis,
    And back-bytaris in secreit placis,
    To ley that had delyte;
    With rownaris of fals lesingis;
    Allace! that courtis of noble kingis,
    Of thame can nevir be quyte._

                                             Dunbar (Daunce.)


The Countess of ----'s ball was fixed upon as the occasion of my first
appearance. What meditation did it not cost me, to decide upon the style
of my costume for that eventful evening! How did my preference fluctuate
between the gorgeous and the simple, the airy and the magnificent! The
balance was cast in favour of the latter, by the possession of my
mother's jewels; which my father ordered to be reset for me, with superb
additions. 'He could afford it,' he said, 'as well as Lady ---- or any
of her company, and he saw no reason why I should not be as fine as the
proudest of them.' My heart bounded with delight, when I at last saw the
brilliants flash in my dark hair, mark the contour of my neck, and
circle a waist slender as the form of a sylph. All that flattery had
told, and vanity believed, seemed now to gain confirmation; yet, still
some doubts allayed my self-conceit, till it received its consummation
from the cold, the stately Mr Maitland. I overheard Miss Arnold whisper
to him, as I entered the drawing-room where he and a large party were
waiting to escort me, 'look what lovely diamonds Mr Percy has given
Ellen.'--'They would have been better bestowed elsewhere,' returned Mr
Maitland; 'nobody that looks at Miss Percy will observe them.'

Though certain that this compliment was not meant for my ear, I had the
hardihood to acknowledge it, by saying, 'Thank you, sir; I shall put
that into my memorandum-book, and preserve it like a Queen Anne's
farthing, not much worth in itself, but precious, because she never made
but one.'

'The farthing was never meant for circulation,' returned he dryly; 'but
it unluckily fell into the hands of a child, who could not keep it to
herself.'

The word 'child' was particularly offensive on this first night of my
womanhood; and, in the intoxication of my spirits, I should have made
some very impertinent rejoinder, if I had not been prevented by Miss
Mortimer. 'What, Ellen!' said she, 'quarrelling with Mr Maitland for
compliments! Is it not enough to satisfy you, that he who is so seldom
seen in places of that sort accompanies you to the ball to-night?'

'Oh! pray,' returned I, 'since Mr Maitland has so few _bienseances_ to
spare, allow him to dispose of them as he pleases. His attendance
to-night is meant as a compliment to my father.'

'Do not make me pay a whole evening's comfort for what is only a
farthing's worth, you know,' said Maitland good-humouredly; 'but leave
off trying to be disagreeable and witty. Nay, do not frown now; your
face will not have time to recover itself. I see the carriage is at the
door.'

I did not wait for a second intimation, but bounded down stairs, and I
was already seated in the barouche, with Miss Arnold before my
deliberate beau made his appearance. I was too full of expectation to
talk; and we had proceeded for some time in silence, when I was awakened
from a dream of triumph by Mr Maitland's saying, and, as I thought, with
a sigh, 'What a pleasing woman is Miss Mortimer! That feminine
simplicity and sweetness make the merest commonplace delightful!'

I suppose it was my vanity grasping at a monopoly of praise which made
me feel myself teazed by this encomium; and I pettishly answered, 'That
it was a pity Miss Mortimer did not hear this compliment, for she might
keep it to herself, since she at least was no _child_.'

'Within these few years,' said Mr Maitland, 'she was a very enchanting
woman.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed I, more and more out of humour at the unusual warmth
of his expressions, 'Miss Mortimer has no wit, and she has never been
pretty.'

'True,' returned Mr Maitland, 'but I dislike wits. I am not even fond of
beauties. It is in bad taste for a woman to "flash on the startled eye."
Miss Mortimer did not burst on us like a meteor,--she stole on us like
the dawn, cheering and delightful, not dazzling.'

This speech seemed so manifest an attack upon me who dealt with a
certain fearless repartee that passed for wit, and who was already a
beauty by profession, that my eyes filled with tears of mortification.
Of what use is beauty, thought I, if it be thus despised by men of
sense, and draw the gaze only of silly boys? Yet men of sense have felt
its power; and when people have, like Mr Maitland, outlived human
feelings, they should leave the world, and not stay to damp the
pleasures of the young and the happy.

The next moment, however, sparkling eyes and skins of alabaster
recovered their full value in my estimation, when, as we pressed into
Lady ----'s crowded rooms, a hundred whispers met my ear of
'Lovely!'--'Charming!' and 'Devilish handsome!' My buoyant spirits rose
again, and I looked up to take a triumphant survey of my admirers. Yet,
when I met the universal gaze which was attracted by the splendour of my
dress, or the novelty of my appearance, nature for a moment stirred in
me; and though I had indignantly turned from Mr Maitland, and accepted
the devoirs of a more obsequious attendant, I now instinctively caught
his arm, and shrunk awkwardly behind him.

I quickly, however, recovered my self-possession, and began to enjoy the
gaiety of the scene. Not so my companion; who seemed miserably out of
place at a ball, and whose manner appeared even more grave and repulsive
than usual. I shall never forget the solemn abstracted air with which he
sat silently gazing on a chandelier; and then suddenly interrupting my
conversation with a half a dozen beaux, resumed the discussion of a
plan, to which I had listened with interest a few days before, for
bettering the condition of the negroes upon his plantations. But my
attention was at once withdrawn from his discourse, and from the titter
which it occasioned, when a sudden movement opening the circle which
surrounded me, gave to my view the figure of Lady Maria de Burgh.

Never had she looked so lovely. Her Ariel-like form was flying through
the dance; her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure; exercise flushing her
snowy skin with the hues of life and health. I observed the graceful
fall of her white drapery, the unadorned braids of her sunny hair, and
distrusted the taste which had loaded me with ornament.

The dance ended; and Lady Maria was going to throw herself upon a seat,
when it was suddenly taken possession of by a young man, who withdrew my
attention even from Lady Maria. The easy rudeness of this action, his
dress, his manner, his whole air, announced him to be of the first
fashion. He languidly extended a limb of the most perfect symmetry,
viewed it attentively in every direction, drew his fingers through his
elegantly dishevelled hair; then, composing himself into an attitude of
rest, began to examine the company, through an eye-glass set with
brilliants. Lady Maria having, with some difficulty, wedged herself into
a place by his side, was beginning to address him, but he turned from
her with the most fashionable yawn imaginable. Presently his eyes were
directed, or rather fell upon me; and I felt myself inclined to excuse
the plebeian vivacity, with which he instantly pointed me out to his
fair companion, seeming to enquire who I was. Her Ladyship looked, and a
toss of her head seemed to indicate that her reply was not very
favourable. An altercation then appeared to ensue; for the gentleman
rising offered the lady his hand, as if to lead her forward; the lady
frowned, pouted, flounced, and at last, with a very cloudy aspect, rose
and suffered him to conduct her towards me. Scarcely relaxing her pretty
features, she addressed me with a few words of very stately recognition;
introduced me to her brother, Lord Frederick de Burgh; and then turned
away. Miss Arnold claimed her acquaintance by a humble courtesy. Her
Ladyship, looking her full in the face, passed, 'and gave no sign.' I
was instantly possessed with the spirit of patronage; and though I had
before forgotten that Miss Arnold was in the room, I now gave her my
arm, and all the attention which I could spare from Lord Frederick de
Burgh.

For a man of fashion, Lord Frederick was tolerably amusing. He knew the
name, and a little of the private history, of every person in the room.
He flattered with considerable industry; and it was not difficult to
flatter him in return. He asked me to dance. I was engaged for the three
next dances; but disappointed one of my partners that I might sit with
Lord Frederick. His Lordship next proposed that I should waltz with him.
So much native feeling yet remained in me that I shrunk from making such
an exhibition, and at first positively refused; but, happening to
observe that Lady Maria was watching, with an eye of jealous
displeasure, her brother's attentions to me, I could not resist the
temptation of provoking her, by exhibiting these attentions to the whole
assembly; and therefore consented to dance the waltz.

I own that I bitterly repented this compliance when I found myself
standing with Lord Frederick alone, in the midst of the circle which was
instantly formed round us. I forgot even the possibility of the
admiration of which I had before been so secure. My knees knocked
together, and a mist swam before my eyes. But there was now no retreat,
and the dance began. My feelings of disquiet, however, did not rise to
their height till, towards the close of the dance, I met the eye of Mr
Maitland fixed on me in stern disapprobation. I have never yet met with
any person whose displeasure was so disagreeably awful as that of Mr
Maitland. At that moment it was more than I could bear. Hastily
concluding the dance, I darted through the crowd of spectators,
regardless of their praise or censure; and, faint and unhappy, I sunk
upon a seat.

I was instantly surrounded by persons who offered me every sort of
assistance and refreshment. Lord Frederick was particularly assiduous.
But I owed the recovery of my spirits chiefly to the sarcastic smile
with which I was eyed by Lady Maria de Burgh, whom I overheard say, with
a scornful glance at the gentlemen who crowded round me, 'Really the
trick takes admirably!' Mr Maitland now making his way towards me, said
very coldly, 'Miss Percy, if you are inclined to go home, I shall attend
you.' I was provoked at his unconcern for an uneasiness of which he had
been the chief cause; and carelessly answering that I should not go home
for an hour or two, accepted Lord Frederick's arm, and sauntered round
the room.

During the rest of the evening, I paid no further attention to my
father's friend. Once or twice I thought of him, and with an indistinct
feeling of self-reproach; but I was occupied with the assiduities of my
new admirer, and had no leisure to consider of propriety. I saw, too, or
fancied that I saw, Lady Maria make some attempts to detach her brother
from me, and I had therefore double enjoyment in detaining him by my
side. Though she affected indifference, I could easily see that she
continued to watch us; and as often as I perceived her eye turned
towards us, I laughed, flirted, and redoubled the demonstrations of our
mutual good understanding. About five in the morning the party
separated; and I, more worn out by the affectation, than exhilarated by
the reality of merriment, returned home. Lord Frederick attended me to
my carriage; and Mr Maitland having handed in Miss Arnold, bowed without
speaking, and retired.

Some very excellent and judicious persons maintain a custom of calling
to mind every night the transactions of the day; but even if the habit
of self-examination had at all entered into my system, this was
manifestly no season for its exercise. Completely exhausted, I dropped
asleep even while my poor weary maid was undressing me; and closed a day
of folly, pride, and enmity, without one serious, one repentant thought.

But why do I particularise one day? My whole course of life was aptly
described in a short dialogue with Mr Maitland. 'Miss Percy,' said he,
'I hope you are not the worse for the fatigues of last night.'--'Not in
the least, sir.'--'Well, then, are you any thing the better for them? Do
you look back on your amusement with pleasure?'--'No, I must confess, I
do not. Besides, I have not leisure to look back, I am so busily looking
forward to this evening's opera.'

Mr Maitland, sighing from the very bottom of his heart, gave me a look
which said, as intelligibly as a look could speak, 'Unfortunate,
misguided girl!' We were alone; and I was half inclined to bid him give
utterance to his sentiments, and tell me all the follies which, in his
secret soul, he ascribed to me. Pride was struggling with my respect for
his opinion, when Lord Frederick de Burgh was admitted; and the voice of
candour, and of common sense, was never again allowed to mingle discord
with the sounds of the 'harp and the viol.'

I had entered the throng who were in chase of pleasure, and I was not
formed for a languid pursuit. It became the employment of every day, of
every hour. My mornings were spent at auctions, exhibitions, and
milliners' shops; my evenings wherever fashionable folly held her court.
Miss Mortimer attempted gently to stem the torrent. She endeavoured to
remove my temptation to seek amusement abroad, by providing it for me at
home; but I had drunk of the inebriating cup, and the temperate draught
was become tasteless to me. She tried to convince my reason; but reason
was in a deep sleep, and stirred no further than to repulse the hand
which would have roused. She attempted to persuade me; and I, to escape
the subject, told her, that when I had fulfilled the engagements which
were to occupy every moment of my time for the six succeeding weeks, I
would, on some rainy Sunday, stay at home all day, and patiently swallow
my whole dose of lecture at a sitting. I look back with astonishment
upon her patient endurance of my impertinences. But she saw my follies
with the pity of a superior nature; aware, indeed, of the tremendous
difference between her state and mine, yet remembering who it was that
had 'made her to differ.'

Finding her own efforts fruitless, she endeavoured to obtain my father's
interposition. But my father considered all human kind as divided into
two classes, those who were to labour for riches, and those who were to
enjoy them; and he saw no reason for restricting me in the use of any
pleasure for which I could afford to pay. Besides, he secretly regarded
with some contempt the confined notions of Miss Mortimer, and was not
without his share of elation in the triumphs which I won. He delighted
to read, in the Morning Chronicle, that at Lady G----'s ball, the
brilliancy of Miss Percy's jewels had never been surpassed, save by the
eyes of the lovely wearer. He chuckled over the paragraph which
announced my approaching nuptials with the young Duke of ----, although
he, at the same time, declared with an oath, that 'he would take care
how he gave his daughter and his money to a fellow who might be ashamed
of his father-in-law.' Indeed he took great pleasure in bringing my
suitors, especially those of noble birth, to the point of explicit
proposal, and then overwhelming them with a tremendous preponderance of
settlement. He rejected, in this way, some unexceptionable offers; for
my splendid prospects outweighed all my folly and extravagance. I left
these matters entirely to his arrangement, for I had neither wish nor
love that did not centre in amusement. I sometimes wondered, however,
what were his intentions in regard of me, and more than half suspected
that they pointed towards Mr Maitland; but I never recollected Mr
Maitland's manner towards me, without laughing at the absurdity of such
a scheme.

In the mean time, along with a few sober suitors, I attracted danglers
innumerable; for I was the fashion; admired by fashionable men; envied
by fashionable women; and, of course, raved of by their humbler mimics
of both sexes. Each had his passing hour of influence, but the lord of
the ascendant was Lord Frederick de Burgh. He was handsome, showy,
extravagant, and even more the fashion than myself. He danced well,
drove four-in-hand, and was a very Oedipus in expounding anagrams and
conundrums. Yet it was not to these advantages alone that he owed my
preference. These might have won for him the smiles which he shared with
fifty others; but he was indebted for my peculiar grace to his
relationship with Lady Maria.

The mutual dislike of this lady and myself had been confirmed by seven
years interchange of impertinences; nor was it in the least degree
mitigated by the new circumstances in which we were placed. The leader
of fashion, for the winter, was nearly related to the De Burgh family,
and she had perhaps a stronger connection with me--she owed my father
12,000_l._ Thus she naturally became the chaperon, both to Lady Maria
and myself; and we often met in circles where a person of my rank is
usually considered as an intruder. Lady Maria, proud of an ancient
family, resented this intrusion, the more, perhaps, because I trespassed
upon rights, still dearer than the privileges of rank. I, too proud
myself to tolerate pride in another, lost no opportunity of retort; and
my ingenuity in discovering these occasions was probably heightened by
the necessity of improving them with due regard to the rules of
politeness. Our mutual acquaintance, accustomed to witness genteel
indications of hatred, soon learnt to please, by gentle sarcasms against
an absent rival; and we were never without some good-natured friend, who
could hint to each whatever debt she owed to the malice of the other. I
know not how Lady Maria might feel; but I was alternately pleased with
these sacrifices to my malevolence, and mortified by perceiving, that it
was visible to every common observer. I attempted to conceal what I was
ashamed to avow; but the arrogance and irascibility, still more than the
natural openness of my temper, unfitted me for caution; and between the
fear of exposing my rancour, and my eagerness to give it vent,--between
my quick sensibility to civil scorn, and my impatience to repay it in
kind,--I endured more pain than it would have cost me to banish from my
breast every vindictive thought.

How does one disorderly passion place us at the mercy of every creature
who will use it as a tool to serve his purpose! Even my maid endeavoured
to make her peace after the destruction of a favourite cap, by telling
me that she had quitted Lady Maria's service for mine, because she had
no pleasure in dressing her last lady, who, she said, 'was little bigger
than a doll, and not much wiser.' Miss Arnold, who, in spite of her
obsequious endeavours to please, had one day the misfortune to offend
her capricious patroness, was restored to immediate favour, by
informing me, that 'the whole town believed Lady Maria's pretended cold
to be nothing but a fit of vexation, because her father had permitted
Lord Frederick to pay his addresses to me.'

In spite of the belief of the 'whole town,' however, Lord Frederick was
still nothing more than a dangler; nor had I the slightest desire to
attract his more particular regards. I was even afraid that he should,
by a serious proposal, oblige me to dispense with his future attentions,
and thereby deprive me of the amusement of witnessing the frowns, and
tosses, and fidgetings, with which Lady Maria watched a flirtation
always redoubled when she was near.

This amusement, indeed, was obtained at the expense of incurring some
animadversion. My competitors for fashion, and of course for the notice
of fashionable men, revenged themselves for my superior success by
sarcastic comments upon my supposed conquest; each obliquely
insinuating, that she might have transferred it to herself, if she could
have descended to such means as I employed. These innuendos, however,
were softened ere they reached my ear, into gentle raillery,--friendly
questions, as to the time when I was to bless Lord Frederick with my
hand,--and tender-hearted expostulations on the cruelty of delay. Miss
G---- would speak to me in the most compassionate terms, of the envy
which my conquest excited in her poor friend Miss L----; and Miss L----,
in her turn, would implore me to marry Lord Frederick, were it only to
put poor Miss G---- out of suspense. That which should have alarmed my
caution, only flattered my vanity. Instead of discountenancing the
attacks of my acquaintance by calm and steady opposition, I invited them
by feeble defence; or at best, parried them with a playfulness which
authorised their repetition.




CHAPTER V

    _Here eloquence herself might plead in vain,
    Nor one of all the heartless crowd could gain.
    And thou! O sweeter than the muse's song,
    Affection's voice divine! with cold disdain,
    Even thou art heard; while mid th' insulting throng
    Thy daunted shivering form moves timidly along._

                                             Mrs Tighe.


Marriage is like sin; if we often allow it to be presented to our view,
we learn to look without starting. I was supremely indifferent towards
Lord Frederick, and never entertained one serious thought of becoming
his wife; but I suffered myself to be rallied upon our future
connection, till the idea excited no distinct sentiment of
disapprobation; and till by degrees I forgot to make up for the
faintness of my denials, by the strength of my inward resolutions
against the match. Perhaps I should describe my case more correctly,
were I to own that I formed no plan for the future; all my serious
consideration being reserved for the comparative merits of satin and
velvet, or of an assembly and an opera. The reputation of Lord
Frederick's attentions gave me much more pleasure than the attentions
themselves; and my companions knew how to flatter me, by reminding me of
his assiduities.

Of all my remembrancers, the most persevering, if not the most vehement,
was Miss Arnold. She had made her calculations on the increased
importance which rank might give her patroness; and, with her accustomed
shrewdness, chose the means most effectual for promoting her object. She
did not, indeed, like others of my acquaintance, rally me upon marriage;
on the contrary, she rather affected some delicacy upon that subject;
but, in Lord Frederick's absence, she made him her constant theme; and
the moment he approached, she resigned to him her place by my side. As
she had intimate access to my mind, she knew how to accommodate her
attacks to my prevailing sentiments. At first, she confined herself to
chronicling the symptoms of Lady Maria's jealousy and spite; amusing me
with pictures, half mimic, half descriptive, of the ill-concealed malice
of my foe, and instigating me to further irritation. Next, she began to
mingle her register with hints of having observed, that the sport was
becoming a serious one to Lord Frederick. I was at first little inclined
to credit a circumstance which would have added to the impropriety of my
favourite amusement; but when at last Miss Arnold's instances, and my
own exuberant vanity, convinced me of the fact, some remains of justice
and humanity prompted me to a change of conduct.

'If Lord Frederick has really taken it into his wise head to be in love
with me,' said I to her one day when we were alone, 'I believe, Juliet,
I ought to carry the jest no farther.'

I spoke with great gravity, for I was half afraid that she must be of my
opinion. She looked steadily in my face, as if to see whether I were in
earnest; and then burst into a hearty fit of laughter.--'Ridiculous!'
cried she: 'what! you expect him to die of it, do you? Really, my dear,
I did not think you had been so romantic.'

I believe I blushed for appearing to over-rate a passion which my
companion considered as so frivolous; and answered carelessly, 'Oh! I
dare say he'll survive it; but one would not wilfully give uneasiness,
however trivial, you know.'

'Bagatelle! you, who make a hundred hearts ache every day, to trouble
your conscience about one stray thing! Besides, I'll answer for it, that
the affair upon the whole will give him more pleasure than pain. How
many sighs, such as lordlings breathe, would it require to repay Lord
Frederick for that air of yours, as you turned to him last night from
young Lord Glendower!'

'Ah! but that pleasure was a free gift, Juliet. I have no right to make
him pay for it; besides, Glendower is such a fool, that it was really a
relief to get rid of him. But, to be serious, I believe I shall effect
my retreat with the better grace, the sooner I begin it.'

Miss Arnold was silent for a few moments, apparently pondering the
matter; then, with an air of mature reflection, said, 'Well! perhaps,
upon the whole, you may be right. Your indifference will probably cure
Lord Frederick; besides, it will be a double charity,--it will be such a
relief to Lady Maria, poor girl! I confess, Ellen, I am often sorry for
her. Did you observe what a passion she was in last night when Lord
Frederick would not quit you to dance with Lady Augusta Loftus?'

'It was provoking to see one's brother show so little taste,' answered
I, pulling myself up, and trying to suppress a simper. 'I should have
thought I had no chance with Lady Augusta.'

'Not, indeed,' returned Miss Arnold, with a contemptuous smile, 'if
every one judged like Lady Maria de Burgh; and estimated a woman, like a
carrot, by the length of root she had under ground! Oh! what a passion
she will be in when Lord Frederick makes his proposals, and is refused!'

'But if I go much farther, Juliet, how can I refuse him? I can't tell
the man that I have been drawing him on merely for the purpose of
teasing his sister.'

'Well,' returned Miss Arnold, 'after all, I believe you are right; so
just do as you please. Your father, to be sure, might easily manage that
matter,--but do as you please.'

She knew that she might safely intrust me with this permission; secure
that, even if my resolutions were good, they would be ineffective. To
shake off the attentions of a man who has once been encouraged, requires
more firmness than usually falls to the lot of woman. Besides, Lord
Frederick had habit in his favour; and, with those who are neither
guided by reason nor principle, habit is omnipotent. Pride, too, refused
to resign the only means of repaying Lady Maria's scorn; and, in spite
of the momentary checks of conscience, the flirtation proceeded just as
before.

While my soi-disant friend encouraged my follies, no Mentor was at hand
to repress them. My father, mingling little in the circles which I
frequented, was ignorant of the encouragement which I gave to Lord
Frederick. Miss Mortimer, ill calculated to arrest the notice of the gay
and the giddy, was almost excluded from the endless invitations which
were addressed to me. The public amusements, which consumed so much of
my time, were unsuitable to her habits, to her principles, and to the
delicacy of her health. Thus she was seldom the witness of my
indiscretions. There is, indeed, no want of people who serve all
scandalous tales as the monasteries were wont to do poor strangers,
dress them out a little, and help them on their way. But these
charitable persons care not to consign a calumny to those who will
neither welcome nor advance it; and Miss Mortimer's declared aversion to
scandal kept her ignorant of some of the real, and much of the fabulous
history of her acquaintance. Accordingly, my intimacy with Lord
Frederick had, for almost three months, excited the smiles, the envy, or
the censure of 'every body one knows,' when Miss Mortimer was surprised
into hearing a copious account of my imprudence from a lady, who
declared 'that she was quite concerned to see that lovely girl, Miss
Percy, give so much occasion for censorious tales!' Who could doubt the
kindness of that concern which led her to detail my errors to my friend,
while she delicately forbore from hinting them to myself! My entrance
happening to interrupt her narrative, I heard her say, with great
emphasis,--'So very ridiculous, that I thought it an act of
friendship----' But, seeing me, she stopped; frowned very significantly
at Miss Mortimer; and then, resuming her complacency of countenance, she
accosted me in the most affectionate manner, protesting that she
rejoiced in being so fortunate as to meet with me. 'I was just telling
Miss Mortimer,' said she, 'that I never saw you look so lovely as when
you were delighting us all with that divine concerto upon the harp last
night.' In the same style she ran on for about three minutes; then
declaring, that she always forgot how time went when she was visiting
us, she hurried away; first, however, repeating her frown to Miss
Mortimer, accompanied with a cautioning shake of the head.

I turned towards my real friend, and observed that she was looking on me
through rising tears. We were alone, and I think I was always less
indocile, less unamiable, when there were few witnesses of my behaviour.
Touched with the affectionate concern that was painted in her face,
before I knew what I was doing, I had locked her hand in mine, and had
enquired 'what was the matter with my good friend?'

'My dearest Ellen,' returned she, and her mild eyes filled again, 'would
you but allow me to be your friend! But I will not talk to you now. That
prating woman has discomposed me.'

My conscience at that moment giving warning of a lecture in embryo, I
instantly recollected myself. 'Oh!' cried I, 'how can you mind what she
says? She is so prodigal of her talk, that her own stores are nothing to
her. She must depend upon the public for supply, and you know what the
proverb says of "begging and choosing." But I must be gone; I promised
to meet Lady Waller at the exhibition. Good-by.'

My reader, especially if he be a male reader, will more easily conceive
than I can express, the abhorrence of rebuke which, at this period of my
life, was strong upon me. I believe I could with more patience have
endured a fit of cramp, than the most gentle reproof that ever
friendship administered. By Miss Arnold's help, I for some days escaped
the admonitions of Miss Mortimer, till I was unfortunately placed at her
mercy, by an indisposition which I caught in striving, for two hours, to
make my way through the Duchess of ----'s lobby on the night of a rout.
The first day of my illness, Miss Arnold was pretty constantly at my
bed-side. The second, she was obliged to dine abroad, and could not
return before two o'clock in the morning. The third, while she was gone
to the auction to buy some toy which I had intended purchasing, I
received permission to leave my chamber; and Miss Mortimer, who had
scarcely quitted me by day or night, attended me to my dressing-room.

From mere habit, I approached my glass; but three days of illness had
destroyed its power to please. 'Bless me,' cried I, 'what shall I do? I
am not fit to be seen! And I am dying to see somebody or other. Do,
Grant, tell them to let in Mr Maitland, if he calls. It is ten to one
that he will not observe what a haggard wretch I look.'

'I have heard,' said Miss Mortimer, 'that love-lorn damsels sigh for
solitude. I hope your inclination for company is a sign that your heart
is still safe, in spite of reports to the contrary.' She forced a smile,
yet looked in my face with such sad earnestness, as if she had wished,
but feared to read my soul.

There is no escape now, thought I, so I must make the best of it. 'Quite
safe,' answered I; 'so safe that I scarcely know whether I have one. I
rather imagine, that in me, as in certain heroines whom I have read of
at school, a deficiency has been made on one side, on purpose that I
might wound with greater dexterity and success.'

'I rejoice to hear you say so,' returned Miss Mortimer, 'and still more
to see by that candid countenance, that you are not deceiving yourself.
I knew that you were above deceiving me.'

'Nay,' said I, 'I won't answer for that, if I had any thing serious to
conceal; but there is no cause for deceit. I would not give my dear Fido
here for all other animals of his sex upon earth, except my father
and----'

'And whom?' asked Miss Mortimer.

'I was going to say Mr Maitland,' answered I, 'because he is so good a
man; but Fido is a hundred times more affectionate and amusing.'

Miss Mortimer now smiled without trying it. 'Mr Maitland is, indeed, a
good man,' said she; 'and if you would show him half the kindness and
attention that you do to Fido----'

She too, left the sentence unfinished. Now, though I had not, I believe,
a thought of finding a lover in Mr Maitland, I often recollected, not
without pique, Miss Mortimer's first decision on that subject; and, with
a vague idea that she was going to recant, I said, with some quickness,
'Well, what would happen if I did?'

'You would find him quite as amusing,' answered she.

'Is that all?' said I, poutingly; 'then I may as well amuse myself with
Lord Frederick, who does not give me the trouble of drawing him out.'

In my momentary pet I had started the very subject which I wished to
avoid. Miss Mortimer instantly took advantage of my inadvertence. 'A
little more caution,' said she, gravely, 'may be necessary in the one
case than in the other; for Mr Maitland, far from wilfully misleading
you, would guard the delicacy of your good name with a father's
jealousy.'

'In what respect does Lord Frederick mislead me?'

'Nay, I will not assert that he does; but, my dear Ellen, our
grandmothers used to warn us against the arts of men. They represented
lovers as insidious spoilers, subtle to contrive, and forward to seize
every occasion of advantage. I fear the nature of the pursuer remains
the same, though the pursuit be transferred from our persons to our
fortunes.'

'Gorgons, and hydras, and chimeras dire!' exclaimed I; 'what a train you
have conjured up! But I can assure you, Lord Frederick is no insidious
spoiler, nor subtle, nor very bold; but a good-natured, giddy-brained
fellow, no more a match for me in cunning than I am for him at the
small-sword.'

'Take care, Ellen. We all over-rate ourselves where we are deficient. No
part of your character is more striking than your perfect singleness of
heart.'

'But what need is there of so much caution. I may as well marry Lord
Frederick as any body else. He wants fortune, I want rank. The bargain
would be very equitable. What objection could there be to it?'

'None,' replied Miss Mortimer, with a deep sigh, 'provided that your
father were satisfied; and, which is, if possible, of still more
importance, provided you are sure that Lord Frederick is the man whom
your sober judgment would approve.'

'What! would you have me marry on mere sober judgment?'

'No, I would not go quite so far; but, at least, I would not have you
marry against your sober judgment. Much, very much, will depend upon the
character of your husband. Toys cannot always please you, Ellen; for you
have warm affections. These affections may meet with neglect, perhaps
with unkindness; and have your habits fitted you for patient endurance?
You have strong feelings; and have you learnt the blessed art of
weakening their power upon your own mind, by diverting them into less
selfish channels?'

She spoke with such warmth as flushed her cheek with almost youthful
bloom; while I smiled at the solemnity with which she treated a subject
so far from serious; and inwardly pitied that ignorance of the world,
which could so much mistake the nature of a harmless flirtation. 'Oh!'
cried I, 'if I were to marry Lord Frederick, I should support his
neglect with great philosophy; and as for unkindness, we could provide
against that in the settlements.'

Miss Mortimer's manner grew still more solemn. 'Answer me as gaily as
you will,' said she, 'but, by all that you value, my dearest child, I
adjure you to be serious with yourself. You have told me that you mean
one day to change your plan of life,--to put away childish things,--to
begin your education for eternity. Is Lord Frederick well fitted to be
your companion,--your assistant in this mighty work?'

This view of the subject was far too awful for sport, far too just for
raillery, and far too grave for my taste; so I hastened to dismiss the
theme. 'Well, well, my good Miss Mortimer,' said I, 'be under no
apprehensions; I have not the slightest intention of marrying Lord
Frederick.'

'If that be the case,' returned she, 'suffer me to ask why you encourage
his attentions.'

'Merely for the sake of a little amusement,' answered I.

'Ah, Ellen!' said Miss Mortimer, 'how many young women are lured on by
the same bait, till they have no honourable means of escape; and marry
without even inclination to excuse their folly or mitigate its effects!
Let the warning voice of experience----'

The warning voice was, at that moment, silenced by the entrance of Miss
Arnold. 'Here, Ellen,' said she, 'is a packet for you, which I found in
the lobby.--What have you got there?' continued she, as I opened it.

'A note from Lord Frederick, and two tickets to Lady St Edmunds' masked
ball.'

'Delightful! When is it to be?'

'On Monday, the fifth of May.'

'Oh, we have no engagement; that is charming!'

Miss Arnold skipped about, and seemed quite in ecstasies. Miss Mortimer,
on the contrary, looked gravely intent upon her work. Her gravity, and
the extravagance of Juliet's raptures, alike restrained my pleasure; and
I only expressed it by saying, with tolerable composure, that of all
amusements, a masked ball was the one which I most desired to see.

'Oh! it will be enchanting!' cried Miss Arnold. 'What dresses shall we
wear, Ellen?'

Miss Mortimer having cut a cap, which she had been shaping, into more
than fifty shreds, now leant earnestly towards me; and, timid and
faltering, as if she feared my answer, asked, 'if I would accept of Lord
Frederick's tickets?'

'To be sure she will,' said Miss Arnold, answering for me.

'Why should I not?' said I.

'I hope you will at least consider the matter,' returned Miss Mortimer,
still addressing herself particularly to me. 'This sort of amusement is
regarded with suspicion by all sober-minded persons; and I own I could
wish that Miss Percy thought this a sufficient reason for refusing it
her countenance.'

'I am sure that is a nonsensical prejudice,' cried Miss Arnold. 'At a
subscription masquerade, indeed, one might meet with low people, but at
Lady St Edmunds' there will be none but the best company in town.'

'The best _born_ company, I suppose you mean,' answered Miss Mortimer;
'but I imagine, that the very use of masks is to banish the privileges
and the restraints of personal respectability.'

'Nay now, my dear Miss Mortimer!' cried I, playfully laying my hand upon
her mouth, 'pray don't throw away that nice lecture; you know I never
was at a masquerade in my life, and you would not be so savage as to
prose me out of going to one! only one!'

'If I thought there were any chance of success,' said Miss Mortimer,
smiling affectionately on me, 'I would make captives of these little
hands till I tried all my rhetoric.'

'It would be all lost,' cried I, 'for positively I must and will go.'
Miss Mortimer's countenance fell; for she knew that in spite of the
sportiveness of my manner, I was inaccessible to conviction; she
clearly perceived, though I was unconscious of the association, that my
pride connected an idea of rebellious presumption with whatever thwarted
my inclination; and she saw that no argument was likely to find
admission, where, instead of being welcomed as an honest counsellor, it
was guarded against as an insolent mutineer.

After a short silence, she changed her point of attack. 'If,' said she,
'your acceptance of Lord Frederick's tickets implies any obligation to
accept his particular attendance, I think, Ellen, you will see the
prudence of refusing them.'

Recollecting our late conversation, I felt myself embarrassed, and knew
not what to answer. But my companion quickly relieved my dilemma.
'Indeed, Miss Mortimer,' said she, 'you know nothing of these matters.
Ellen cannot invite gentlemen to Lady St Edmunds' house, so it is clear
that we must allow Lord Frederick to go with us; but when we are there,
we shall soon find attendants enough.'

'Yes,' said I, willing to satisfy Miss Mortimer; 'and when we get into
the rooms, we shall be under the Countess's protection, and may shake
off the gentlemen as soon as we choose.'

Miss Mortimer looked more and more anxious. 'What protection can Lady St
Edmunds afford you,' said she, 'where hundreds around her have equal
claims; and left in such a place without any guard but your own
discretion?--dearest Ellen, I beseech you, return these tickets.'

Though I was far from owning to myself that Miss Mortimer was in the
right, I could not entirely suppress the consciousness that my
resistance was wrong. The consequence was, that I grew angry with her
for making me displeased with myself, and peevishly answered, that I
would not return the tickets, nor be debarred from a harmless amusement
by any body's unfounded prejudices.

'Call them prejudices, or what you will, Ellen,' said Miss Mortimer, in
a voice which I must have been a savage to resist, 'only yield to them!'

My self-condemnation, and of course my ill-humour, were increased by her
mildness; and, forgetting all her claims to my respect, all her patient
affection, all her saint-like forbearance, I turned upon her with the
petulance of a spoiled child, and asked, 'who gave her a right to thwart
and importune me?' Tears rushed to her meek eyes. 'It was your mother!
Ellen,' cried she; 'when she bade me, in remembrance of our long and
faithful friendship, to watch and advise, and restrain her child. Will
you not give me up a few short hours of pleasure for her sake?'

I was overpowered and burst into tears; yet tears, I must own, as much
of spleen as of tenderness. Such as they were, I was ashamed of them;
and dashing them away, snatched the tickets and enclosed them in a short
note of apology to Lord Frederick. 'Are you going to return them?' cried
Miss Arnold, looking over my shoulder at what I had written, and
speaking in a tone of the utmost surprise. 'Certainly!' said I, in a
manner so decided, that without the least attempt to oppose my design,
she sat down opposite to me, as if taking wistfully her last look of the
tickets.

'Pull the bell, Juliet,' said I, somewhat triumphantly, as I sealed the
note.

'Give me the note,' said Miss Arnold, 'I am going down stairs, and will
give it to a servant. It is a pity the poor creatures should have
unnecessary trouble.' She took the packet, and quitted the room.

Miss Mortimer, the big drops still trickling down her cheek, pressed my
hand, as if she would have thanked me, had her voice been at her
command. Conscious of having made a proper sacrifice, I involuntarily
recovered my good humour; but my pride refused to let my kind friend
think her victory complete; and, releasing my hand, I turned away with
cold stateliness.

But what am I doing? Is the world peopled with Miss Mortimers, that I
should expect its forbearance for such a character as mine?--No; but I
will endure the shame which I have merited. Detest me, reader. I was
worthy of your detestation! Throw aside, if you will, my story in
disgust. Yet remember, that indignation against vice is not of itself
virtue. Your abhorrence of pride and ingratitude is no farther genuine,
than, as it operates against your own pride, your own ingratitude.




CHAPTER VI

    _Yet still thy good and amiable gifts
    The sober dignity of virtue wear not._

                                             Joanna Baillie.


As soon as Miss Arnold and I were alone, she renewed the subject of the
masked ball. 'Well, Ellen!' cried she, 'I protest, I never was so much
astonished as at your simplicity in returning those tickets. That old
woman really winds you about just as she pleases.'

'No, I am not quite so pliant,' answered I, somewhat piqued; 'but after
the footing upon which Miss Mortimer put her request, I do not see how I
could refuse it.'

'She has art enough to know where you are most accessible,' said Miss
Arnold, well knowing that nothing was more likely to stir the proud
spirit than a suspicion of being duped. 'It is really provoking to see
you so managed!' continued she; 'and now to have her trick us out of
this ball, where we should have been so happy! You would have looked
quite enchanting as a sultana! and your diamond plume would have been
divine in the front of your turban, and----'

She ran on describing our dresses and characters, enlarging on the
amusement of which my ill-timed facility had deprived us, till I was
thoroughly indignant at Miss Mortimer's interference. 'I am sure,'
interrupted I, 'I wish I had not allowed myself to be wheedled over like
a great baby; but I promise you that she shan't find it so easy to
persuade me another time.' Then I proceeded to reproach my own want of
spirit; for we can all attack ourselves where we are invulnerable. 'If I
had not been the tamest creature in the world,' said I, 'I should not
have yielded the matter; but it is in vain to talk of it now.'

'Why in vain?' cried Miss Arnold with vivacity.

'You know,' answered I, 'that now when we have returned the tickets
nothing more can be done.'

'What if we could still have the tickets?' said Miss Arnold.

'Impossible!' said I; 'I would not condescend to ask them again from
Lord Frederick.'

'But,' said Miss Arnold, throwing her arm round my neck with an
insinuating smile, 'what if I, seeing that my dearest Ellen's heart was
set upon this ball, and guessing that she would soon repent of her
saint-errantry, had slily put the tickets into my pocket, and could
produce them thus' (showing me a corner of them), 'at this very moment?'

I was thunderstruck. In spite of eight years' intimacy, Miss Arnold had
miscalculated upon my sentiments, when she expected me to approve of
this manoeuvre. Confidence in my mother's mildness and affection had
instilled into my infant mind habits of sincerity; habits which she had
strengthened less by precept than by encouragement and example. The tint
had been infused at the fountain head, and it still coloured the stream.
A dead silence followed Miss Arnold's discovery; she, waiting to hear my
sentiments, I not caring to speak them; she looking intently in my face,
I gazing steadfastly on the tickets, without recollecting that I held
them in my hand.

'How could we produce them to Miss Mortimer?' said I, at last, pursuing
my reflections aloud. 'She confidently believes that they are gone; and
she will think this such a piece of--' cunning, I would have said, but I
could not utter the ungracious truth to the kind creature, who had erred
purely to oblige me. 'She would be so astonished!' continued I: 'and
only this morning she praised my ingenuousness! I cannot keep these
tickets.'

'Oh!' cried Miss Arnold, 'I am sure there is no disingenuousness on your
part. It was not you who detained the tickets. I will tell her honestly
how the matter stands. I would be chidden for a month rather than that
you should lose this ball,--you would be so happy, and so much admired!'

'My dear, kind-hearted Juliet! you cannot suppose that I will take
advantage of your good nature! You would not have me buy my pleasure at
the expense of injuring you in any one's good opinion? No, no; were I to
keep these tickets it should be at my own hazard.'

I think Miss Arnold blushed; and she certainly hesitated a moment before
she replied,--'I assure you I do not care a straw for her good opinion.
What signify the whims of people who think like nobody else?'

Of all my acquaintance, Mr Maitland alone joined Miss Mortimer in
'thinking like nobody else;' and a recollection of him glanced across my
mind. The association was not over favourable to Miss Arnold's purpose.
'Some of the most sensible men in the kingdom think like Miss Mortimer,'
said I.

'The most sensible men in the kingdom often think wrong,' returned Miss
Arnold. 'Besides, what signify their thoughts, so long as they dare not
tell us them?'

'Some of them do dare,' said I with a sigh.

'Come, come, Ellen,' said Juliet, 'do you keep the tickets, and I shall
willingly take the blame. Be satisfied with being afraid of the men and
the methodists yourself; you will never make me so.'

'Afraid!' The word jarred upon my spirit. 'Afraid!' repeated I; 'I fear
no mortal! but I scorn to do what the coldest, most correct man in
England could think dishonourable. I would not be despised for all the
pleasures under heaven! I will send back these tickets this moment.'

I turned proudly away, wholly unconscious how much the sense of honour
was indebted to the opportune remembrance of Mr Maitland, and as
confident in my own integrity as if it had already been seven times
tried in the furnace. I rang the bell; delivered, with my own hand, the
tickets to a servant; and never in my life felt more conscious of my
advantages of stature. I forgot the languor of indisposition. I walked
with the springing step of exultation. I forgave Miss Mortimer my
disappointment. I was grateful to Juliet for her kind intentions. Every
object was pleasing, for it shone with the reflected light of
self-approbation. My evening was cheerful, though comparatively lonely;
my sleep refreshing, though unbought by exercise. I could have wished
that it had been allowable to tell Miss Mortimer all my cause of
triumph; and once (such is the selfishness of pride) I entertained a
thought of boasting to her my second sacrifice to propriety; but, when I
remembered the meanness of betraying my friend to censure, the base
suggestion vanished from my mind; and again I inwardly applauded my own
rectitude, instead of blushing that such a thought could have found
entrance into my soul.

Almost for the first time in my life I wished for Mr Maitland's
presence; probably, though I did not shape the idea to myself, in the
hope that he would confirm my self-esteem. But he came not to take
advantage of my order for excluding all visiters except himself. The
next day, however, he called; and as I was still somewhat indisposed, he
was admitted to my _boudoir_. He had not been seated many minutes, when
Miss Mortimer adverted to my late sacrifice. 'You must assist me with
your invention, Mr Maitland,' said she. 'I want to make Monday, the 5th
of May, the happiest day in the season, and as gay as is consistent with
happiness.'

'My intention is quite at your service,' said Mr Maitland; 'but why is
the 5th of May to be so distinguished?'

'I am deeply in Miss Percy's debt for amusement on that day; for it was
fixed for a masked ball, which she has given up at my request.'

I stole a glance at Mr Maitland, and saw his countenance relax
pleasantly. 'I dare say,' said he, 'you owe Miss Percy nothing on that
account, for she will have more pleasure in complying with your wish
than twenty masked balls would have given her.'

'I am not sure of that,' cried I; 'for of all things on earth, I should
like to see a masked ball.'

'Must I then, per force, allow you some merit for relinquishing this
one?' said Mr Maitland, seating himself by my side, with such a smile of
playful kindness as he sometimes bestowed on Miss Mortimer. 'But why,'
continued he, 'should you, of all women, desire to appear in masquerade?
Come, confess that you believe you may conceal more charms than fall to
the lot of half your sex, and still defy competition.'

'You may more charitably suppose,' returned I, 'that I am humbly
desirous to escape comparisons.'

'Nay,' said Mr Maitland, with a smile which banished all the severity of
truth, 'that would imply too sudden a reformation. Would you have me
believe that you have conquered your besetting sin since the last time
we met?'

'How have you the boldness,' said I, smiling, 'to talk to me of
besetting sin?'

'As I would talk to a soldier of his scars,' said Mr Maitland. 'You
think it an honourable blemish.'

'This is too bad!' cried I, 'not only to call me vain, but to tell me
that I pique myself on my vanity!'

'Ay,' returned Mr Maitland, dryly, 'on your vanity, or your pride, or
your----, call it what you will.'

'Well, pride let it be,' said I. 'Surely there is a becoming pride,
which every woman ought to have.'

'A becoming pride!' repeated Mr Maitland; 'the phrase sounds well; now
tell me what it means.'

'It means--it means--that is, I believe it means--that sort of dignity
which keeps your saucy sex from presuming too far.'

'What connection is there, think you, between cautious decency,--that
peculiar endearing instinct of a woman,--and inordinate
self-estimation?'

'Oh! I would not have my pride inordinate. I would merely have a
comfortable respect for myself and my endowments, to keep up my spirit,
that I might not be a poor domestic animal to run about tame with the
chickens, and cower with them into a corner as oft as lordly man
presented his majestic port before me!--No! I hope I shall never lose my
spirit. What should I be without it?'

'Far be it from me to reduce you so deplorably!' said Mr Maitland;
beginning with a smile, though, before he ceased to speak, the
seriousness of strong interest stole over his countenance. 'But what if
Miss Percy, intrusted with every gift of nature and of fortune, should
remember that still they were only trusts, and should fear to abuse
them? What if, like a wise steward, instead of valuing herself upon the
extent of her charge, she should study how to render the best account of
it? What would you then be? All that your warmest friends could wish
you. You would cease to covet--perhaps to receive--the adulation of
fools; and gain, in exchange, the respect, the strong affection, of
those who can look beyond a set of features.'

The earnestness with which Mr Maitland spoke was so opposite to the cold
composure of his general manner; his eyes, which ever seemed to
penetrate the soul, flashed with such added brightness, that mine fell
before them, and I felt the warm crimson burn on my cheek. I believe no
other man upon earth could have quelled my humour for a moment; but I
had an habitual awe of Mr Maitland, and felt myself really relieved,
when the entrance of my father excused me from replying.

I knew, by my father's face, that he was full of an important something;
for he merely paid the customary compliment to Mr Maitland, and then
walked silently up and down the room with an air of unusual stateliness
and satisfaction. 'What has pleased you so much this morning, papa?'
enquired I.

'Pleased, Miss Percy!' returned my father, knitting his brow, and
endeavouring to look out of humour; 'I tell you I am not pleased. I am
teased out of my life on your account by one fellow or another.' Then,
turning to Maitland, he formally apologised for troubling him with
family affairs, though I believe he was, on this occasion, not at all
sorry to have his friend for a hearer.

'Which of them has been teasing you now, sir?' said I, carelessly.

'The Duke of C----,' said my father, in a fretful tone, though a smile
was lurking at the corner of his mouth, 'has been here this morning to
make proposals for a match between you and his son Frederick.'

'Well, sir,' said I, with some little interest in the issue of the
conference; but my curiosity was instantly diverted into another
channel, by a sudden and not very gentle pressure of the hand, which Mr
Maitland had still held, and which he now released. The gesture, however
inadvertent, attracted my eye towards him; but his face was averted, and
my vanity could not extract one particle of food from the careless air
with which he began to turn over the pages of a book which lay upon my
work-table.

My father proceeded. 'His Grace proposed to settle two thousand pounds
a-year upon his son; no great matter he was forced to confess; but then
he harangued about supporting the dignity of the title, and the hardship
of burdening the representative of the family with extravagant provision
for younger children. But, to balance that, Ellen, he hinted that you
might be a Duchess; for the Marquis, like most of these sprigs of
quality, is of a very weakly constitution. Pity that ancient blood
should so often lose strength in the keeping! Eh, Ellen!'

My father made a pause, and looked as if he expected that I should now
express some curiosity in regard to his decision, but my pride was
concerned to show my total indifference on the subject; so I sat quietly
adjusting my bracelet, without offering him the slightest encouragement
to proceed. He looked towards Maitland; but Maitland was reading most
intently. He turned to Miss Mortimer; and at last found a listener, who
was trembling with interest which she had not power to express.

'What think you of the great man's liberality' continued my father. 'Is
not two thousand pounds a-year a mighty splendid offer for a girl like
my Ellen there, with a hundred thousand pounds down, and perhaps twice
as much more before she dies? Eh, Miss Elizabeth? Should not I be a very
sensible fellow, to bring a jackanapes into my house to marry my
daughter, and spend my money, and be obliged to me for the very coat on
his back, and all by way of doing me a great honour forsooth? No, no.
I'll never pay for having myself and my girl looked down upon. She's a
pretty girl, and a clever girl, and the d----l a De Burgh in England can
make his daughter as well worth an honest man's having: eh, Maitland?'

'Not in your opinion and mine, undoubtedly, sir,' said Maitland, with
the air of a man who is obliged to pay a compliment.

'I told the old gentleman my mind very distinctly,' said my father,
drawing up his head, and advancing his chest. 'I have given his grandee
pride something to digest, I warrant you. And now he is ashamed of his
repulse, and wants the whole affair kept private forsooth. I am sure it
is none of my concern to trumpet the matter. All the world knows I have
refused better offers for Miss Percy.'

'If his Grace wishes the affair to be so private,' cried I, 'I am afraid
he won't inform his daughters of it.'

'You of course will consider it as quite at an end,' said my father,
addressing himself to me.

'Oh certainly, sir,' answered I; 'but how shall I get the news conveyed
to Lady Maria?'

'Tell it to a mutual friend as a profound secret,' said Mr Maitland,
dryly. 'But why are you so anxious that Lady Maria should hear of her
brother's disappointment?'

'Oh because it will provoke her so delightfully,' cried I. 'The
descendant of a hundred and fifty De Burghs to be rejected by a city
merchant's daughter! It will ruin her in laces and lip-salve.'

I was so enchanted with the prospect of my rival's vexation, that it was
some moments ere I observed that Mr Maitland, actually turning pale, had
shrunk from me as far as the end of the couch would permit him, and sat
leaning his head on his hand with an air of melancholy reflection.
Presently afterwards he was rising to take his leave, when a servant
came to inform Miss Mortimer that Mrs Wells, the woman whom Mr Maitland
had rescued from the effect of my rashness, was below waiting to speak
with her. 'Stay a few minutes, Mr Maitland, and see your protegee,' said
Miss Mortimer to him, as he was bidding her good morning. He immediately
consented; while my father quitted the room, saying, 'If the woman is
come for money, Miss Mortimer, you may let me know. I always send these
people what they want, and have done with them.'

Mrs Wells, however, was come, not in quest of money, but of a commodity
which the poor need almost as often, though they ask it less frequently.
She wanted advice. Finding that Miss Mortimer was not alone, she was at
first modestly unwilling to intrude upon the attention of the company.
But Mr Maitland, who, I believe, possessed some talisman to unlock at
his pleasure every heart but mine, engaged her by a few simple
expressions of interest to unfold the purpose of her coming. She told
us, that her eldest daughter, Sally, had for some time been courted by a
young man of decent character, and was inclined to marry him. 'The girl
must be a great fool,' thought I, 'for she can neither expect carriages
nor jewels, and what else should tempt any woman to marry?' The lover,
Mrs Wells said, could earn five-and-twenty or thirty shillings a week by
his trade, which was that of a house-carpenter. This, together with
Sally's earnings as a mantua-maker, might maintain the young couple in
tolerable comfort. But they had no house, and could not furnish one
without incurring debts which would be a severe clog on their future
industry. The young man, however, being in love, was inclined to despise
all prudential considerations; and, in spite of her mother's counsels,
had almost inspired his mistress with similar temerity. Mrs Wells
therefore begged of Miss Mortimer to fortify Sally with her advice, and
to set before her the folly of so desperate a venture. 'Thanks to your
excellent mother, Miss Percy,' said she, 'my children have forgotten
poverty; and, indeed, no one rightly knows what it is, but they who have
striven with it as I have. Any other distress one may now and then
forget; but hard creditors, and cold hungry children will not allow one
to forget them.' Her proposal was, that Miss Mortimer should prevail
with the girl to resist her lover's solicitations for a few years, till
the joint savings of the pair might amount to forty or fifty pounds,
which she said would enable them to begin the world reputably.

'Forty or fifty pounds,' cried I; 'is that all?--Oh! if you are sure
that Sally really wants to be married, I can settle that in a minute. I
am sure I must have more than that left of my quarterly allowance.'

'What are you talking of, Ellen?' cried Miss Arnold, who had just
entered the room. 'You are not going to give away fifty pounds at once?'

'Why not?' answered I. 'Probably I shall not want the money; or if I do,
papa will advance my next quarter.'

I had, I believe, at first offered my gift from a simple emotion of
good-will; but now, taught by my friend's resistance, I began to claim
some merit for my generosity; and glanced towards Mr Maitland in search
of his approving look. But Mr Maitland had no approving look to reward a
liberality which sprang from no principle, and called for no labour,
and inferred no self-denial. His eye was fixed upon me with an
expression of calm compassion, which seemed to say, 'Poor girl! have
even thy best actions no solid virtue in them?' Mrs Wells, however, had
less discrimination. The poor know not what it is to give without
generosity, for they possess nothing which can be spared without
self-denial. Tears of gratitude filled her eyes while she praised and
thanked me; but she positively refused to deprive me of such a sum. 'No,
no,' said she, 'let Robert and Sally work and save for two or three
years; and in that time they will get a habit of patience and good
management, which will be of as much use to them as money.' The
approving look which I had sought was now bestowed upon Mrs Wells. 'You
judge very wisely, Mrs Wells,' said Mr Maitland. 'But two or three years
will seem endless to them; say one year, that we may not frighten them,
and whatever they can both save in that time, I will double to them.'

Mrs Wells thanked him, not with the servility of dependence, but with
the warmth of one whom kindness had made bold. Then turning to me, and
apologising for the liberty she took, she begged my patronage for Sally
in the way of her business. 'I assure you, ma'am,' said she, 'that Sally
works very nicely; and if she could get the name of being employed by
such as you, she would soon have her hands full.'

I was thoroughly discomposed by this request. I could part with fifty
pounds with inconvenience, but to wear a gown not made by Mrs Beetham,
was a humiliation to which I could not possibly submit. Unwilling to
disappoint, I knew not what to answer; but Miss Arnold instantly
relieved my dilemma. 'Bless you, good woman,' cried she, 'how could Miss
Percy wear such things as your daughter would make? Before she could
have a pattern, it would be hacked about among half the low creatures in
town.'

Mrs Wells coloured very deeply. 'I meant no offence,' said she: 'I
thought, perhaps, Miss Percy might direct Sally how she wished her gowns
to be made, and I am sure Sally would do as she was directed.'

'Indeed, my good friend,' answered I, 'I can no more direct Sally in
making a gown, than in making a steam-engine. But I will ask employment
for her wherever I think I am likely to be successful. Come, Miss
Mortimer, I shall begin with you.'

'Do,' said Mr Maitland, in his dry manner. 'Miss Mortimer can afford to
spare the attraction of a fashionable gown.'

It has been since discovered, that Mr Maitland did, that very day,
provide for the accomplishment of his promise, in case that death or
accident should prevent his fulfilling it in person. Miss Mortimer
easily persuaded Sally to pursue the prudent course; and, besides,
exerted her influence so successfully, as to procure employment for
every hour of the girl's time. My profuse offer passed from my mind,
and was forgotten. But their charity,--the charity of Christians,--had
at all times little resemblance to the spurious quality which in my
breast usurped the name. Theirs was the animated virtue, instinct with
life divine!--mine, the mutilated stony image, which even if it had
been complete in all its parts, would still have wanted the living
principle. Theirs was the blessed beam of Heaven, active, constant,
universal!--mine the unprofitable, unsteady flash of the 'troubled sea,
which cannot rest.'




CHAPTER VII

    _'Her reputation?' That was like her wit,
    And seemed her manner and her state to fit.
    Something there was--what, none presumed to say,
    Clouds lightly passing on a smiling day;
    Whispers and hints which went from ear to ear,
    And mixed reports no judge on earth could clear._

                                             Crabbe.


Recovered from my indisposition, I resumed my gay career. But who ever
spent a week in retirement, without projecting some reform, however
partial, some small restraint upon desire, or some new caution in its
gratification? I determined to observe more circumspection in my conduct
towards Lord Frederick; though Miss Arnold laboured to convince me, that
our flirtation might now be carried on with more safety than ever, since
the parties were aware that it could have no serious issue.
_Tete-a-tete_ with her in my dressing-room, I could detect the fallacy
of her arguments, and refused to be misled by them. The most imprudent
being upon earth makes many a judicious resolution; and may trace his
errors less to the weakness of his judgment, than to the feebleness of
his self-command.

The first party which I joined after my convalescence, was at a concert
and _petit souper_ which Lady G. gave to fifty-eight of her particular
friends. As soon as I entered the room, my attention was arrested by a
group, consisting of Lady Maria de Burgh, her favourite Lady Augusta
Loftus, Lord Frederick, and Lord Glendower. Lady Augusta seemed
assiduous to entertain my admirer, who, lounging against a pillar with
his eyes half shut, appeared only to study how he might answer her with
the slightest possible exertion of mind or muscle. Perceiving me, Lady
Maria touched her friend's arm, as if to direct her eye towards me; then
whispered behind her fan somewhat which seemed immoderately entertaining
to both. A rudeness which ought to have awakened only my pity, roused my
resentment, and I piously resolved to seize an early opportunity of
retort. The party continued their merriment, and I even observed Lady
Augusta endeavouring to engage Lord Frederick to join in it. This was
too much; and I resolved to show Lady Augusta that I was no such
despicable rival. But I had been accustomed to accept, not to solicit
the attentions of Lord Frederick, and I waited till he should accost me.
Lord Frederick, however, seemed entirely insensible to my presence. His
eye did not once wander towards me; indeed the assiduity of his
companion left scarcely even his eyes at liberty. Weary of watching Lady
Augusta's advances to my quondam admirer, I at last condescended to
claim his notice by passing close to him. A distant bow was the only
courtesy which I obtained. I was asked to sing, and chose an elaborate
bravura, which Lord Frederick had often declared to be divine. In the
midst of it I saw him break from his obsequious fair one and approach
me. My heart, I own, bounded with triumph. Premature triumph, alas! He
addressed our hostess, who was bending over me; pleaded indispensable
business; and leaving the divine bravura to more disengaged hearers,
withdrew.

I was disconcerted; for, like other beauties, I liked better to repulse
presumption than to endure neglect. My song ended, I had remained for
some time sullen and silent, regardless of the lavish commendations
which were poured upon me; when, recollecting that my discomposure would
afford matter of exultation to my rivals, I suddenly rallied my spirits,
and looked round for some new instrument of offence. Lord Glendower, the
reputed suitor of Lady Maria, still kept his station by her side. I
contrived to engage him during the remainder of the evening. The penalty
of my malice was three hours' close attention to the dullest fool in
England; for vice, too, requires her self-denials, though her disciples
are not, like those of virtue, forewarned of the requisition. Languid,
disgusted and out of humour, I fatigued myself with laborious
playfulness, till the separation of the party released me from penance.

Lord Frederick's 'indispensable business' was the next day explained by
a report, that he had passed the night in a gaming-house, where he had
lost five-and-twenty thousand pounds. Miss Arnold spoke with the
tenderest compassion of this disaster, 'smoothing my ruffled plumes,'
by ascribing it to the desperation occasioned by his late
disappointment. Forgetting that she had so lately ridiculed my romantic
estimate of the force of his passion, she suddenly appeared convinced
that it was strong enough to account for the most frantic actions. Folly
itself is not so credulous as self-conceit. I more than half believed,
though I affected to disprove her assertion. It approached, indeed, to
the truth more nearly than she suspected. Money, however obtained, was
absolutely necessary to Lord Frederick; and mine being beyond his reach,
he had recourse to fortune. But, in calculating upon the actions of the
gay, the liberal Lord Frederick, the narrow motives of interest never
once entered into my account. Dazzled by the false spirit, indicated by
the magnitude of his loss, and pleased with the cause to which vanity
ascribed it, I had half pardoned his late neglect, when I that evening
met him at Mrs Clermont's rout.

So crowded were the rooms that I was not aware when he entered; and when
I first observed him, he was standing in close conversation with Miss
Arnold. Even pride can make concessions where it imagines cause of pity.
I condescended to give Lord Frederick another opportunity of renewing
his attention, and moved towards him through the crowd. My friend and he
were conversing with great earnestness; and, as I approached them from
behind, I caught the last words of their dialogue. His Lordship's speech
concluded with the expression, 'I should look confoundedly silly;'--Miss
Arnold's answer was, 'The thing is impossible:--he has not another
relation upon earth, except----' Seeing me at her side, Miss Arnold
stopped abruptly, and, I think, changed colour; but I had no time to
make observations, for Lord Frederick, seizing my hand, exclaimed, 'Ah,
you cruel creature, have you at last given me an opportunity to speak
with you. I thought you had been determined to cut me, since old
squaretoes interfered.' I carelessly answered that I had not made up my
mind on that subject:--but, had my reply been delayed a few moments, it
could not have been uttered with truth; for just then Lady Maria came to
request, with no small earnestness, that her brother would go and
exhibit to Lady Augusta Loftus a trick with cards, which it seems he
could perform with singular dexterity. 'We shall see who will prevail,'
thought I, and I seated myself as if to evince my resolution of
remaining where I was. Lord Frederick immediately excused himself to his
sister; and she at last, in evident vexation, relinquished her attempt.

This little victory raised my spirits; and I enjoyed with double relish,
and provoked with double industry, the jealous glances with which I was
watched by Lady Maria and her fair friend. Lord Frederick, on his part,
had never been so assiduous to entertain. He flattered, made love, spoke
scandal, and even threw out some sarcasms upon the jealousy of his
sister. How had enmity perverted my mind, when I could tolerate this
unnatural assassination! How had it darkened my understanding, when I
shrunk not with suspicion from the heart which was dead to the sacred
charities of kindred!

In the course of our conversation, Lord Frederick rallied me on the
subject of the masked ball, urging me to give my reasons for refusing
the tickets. Weakly ashamed to be suspected of submitting to authority,
I employed every excuse except the true one; and, among others, alleged,
that I was unacquainted with the lady by whom the ball was to be given.
Lord Frederick insisted upon introducing his relation, Lady St Edmunds,
to me; declaring that he had often heard her express a desire to be of
my acquaintance. I could not resist the temptation of this introduction,
for Lady St Edmunds was of the highest fashion. I protested, indeed,
that my resolution, with regard to the masquerade, was immutable, but I
suffered Lord Frederick to go in search of his gay relative.

He soon returned, leading a lady, in whose appearance some half-a-dozen
wrinkles alone indicated the approach of the years of discretion. Her
cheek glowed with more than youthful roses. Her eye flashed with more
than cheerful fires. Her splendid drapery loosely falling from her
shoulders, displayed the full contour of a neck whiter than virgin
innocence, pure even from the faintest of those varying hues which stain
the lilies of nature. She addressed me with much of the grace and all
the ease of fashion, loaded me with compliments and caresses, and
charmed me with the artful condescension which veils itself in
respectful courtesy. She proposed to wait upon me the next day, and
entreated that I would allow her the privilege of old acquaintance, by
giving orders that she should be admitted. I readily consented, for
indeed I was delighted with my new friend. I was dazzled with the
freedom of her language, the boldness of her sentiments, and her
apparent knowledge of the world. The partial admiration expressed for
me, by one so much my superior in years and rank, warmed a heart
accessible through every avenue of vanity; and I spent an hour in lively
chit-chat with her and Lord Frederick, without once recollecting that
her Ladyship's fame was not quite so spotless as her bosom.

Faithful to her appointment, Lady St Edmunds called upon me the next
morning; and though she looked less youthful, was as fascinating as
ever. No charm of graceful sportiveness, of artful compliment, or of
kindly seeming, was wanting to the attraction of her manners. I was
accustomed to the adulation of men; and sometimes, when it was less
dexterously applied, or when I was in a more rational humour, I could
ask myself which the obsequious gentleman admired the most,--Miss Percy,
or the pretty things they said to her. But let no one boast of being
inaccessible to flattery, till he had withstood that of a superior; and
let that superior be highly bred, seemingly disinterested, and a woman.
I did not, at the time, perceive that Lady St Edmunds flattered me; I
merely was convinced that she had a lively sensibility towards a kindred
mind, and a generosity which could bestow unenvying admiration upon
superior youth and beauty.

When she was about to retire, she mentioned her masked ball, expressing
a strong desire to see me there, and extending the request to Miss
Arnold. With one of the deepest sighs I ever breathed, I told her of my
unfeigned regret that it was out of my power to accept her invitation.
Lady St Edmunds looked as if she read my thoughts. 'I won't be denied,'
said she; 'be as late as you will; but surely you may escape from your
engagement for an hour or two at least. Come, dear Miss Percy, you would
not be so mischievous as to spoil my whole evening's pleasure; and now
that I know you, there is no thinking of pleasure without you.'

I was again on the point of declining, though with tears in my eyes,
when I was interrupted by Miss Arnold. 'I can assure your Ladyship,'
said she, 'that we have no engagement; only, our duenna does not approve
of masquerades, and Ellen happens to be in a submissive frame just now.'

I could better endure the weight of my shackles than the exhibition of
them; and, the warm blood rushing to my cheek, I answered, 'That I did
not suppose Miss Mortimer, or any other person, pretended a right to
control me; that I had merely yielded to entreaties, not submitted to
authority.'

'And why must the duenna's entreaties be more powerful than mine?' said
Lady St Edmunds, laying her white hand upon my arm, and looking in my
face with a soul-subduing smile.

'Dear Lady St Edmunds!' cried I, kissing her hand, 'do not talk of
entreaty. Lay some command upon me less agreeable to my inclination,
that I may show how eager I am to obey you. But indeed, I fear--I
think--I--after giving my promise to Miss Mortimer, I believe I ought
not to retract.'

'Why not, my dear?' said Lady St Edmunds. 'It is only changing your
mind, you know, which the whole sex does every day.'

'You know, Ellen,' said Miss Arnold, 'the case is quite altered since
you talked of it with Miss Mortimer. She did not object so much to the
masked ball, as to your going with----'

'Juliet!' said I, stopping her with a frown, for I felt shocked that she
should tell Lady St Edmunds that her nephew's attendance was objected to
by Miss Mortimer.

'Ah!' cried Lady St Edmunds, with the prettiest air of reproach
imaginable, 'I see Miss Arnold is more inclined to oblige me than you
are; so to her I commit my cause for the present, for now I positively
must tear myself away. Good-by, my pretty advocate. Be sure you make me
victorious over the duenna. Farewell, my lovely perverse one,' continued
she, kissing my cheek. 'I shall send you tickets, however. I issue only
three hundred.'

Lady St Edmunds retired, and left my heart divided between her and the
masquerade. She was scarcely gone, when Miss Mortimer came in; and, full
of my charming visiter, I instantly began to pronounce her eulogium. I
thought Miss Mortimer listened with very repulsive coldness; of course,
a little heat of a less gentle kind was added to the warmth of my
admiration, and my language became more impassioned. 'I have been told
that Lady St Edmunds is very insinuating,' said Miss Mortimer; and this
was all the answer I could obtain. My praise became more rapturous than
ever. Miss Mortimer remained silent for some moments after I had talked
myself out of breath. Perhaps she was considering how she might reply
without offence. 'Such manners,' said she, 'must indeed be engaging. I
see their effect in the eloquence of your praise. I wish it were always
safe to yield to their attraction.'

'Bless me! Miss Mortimer,' interrupted I, 'you are the most suspicious
being! I see you want me to suspect Lady St Edmunds of every thing that
is bad, and for no earthly reason but because she is delightful!'

'Indeed, my dear Ellen,' returned Miss Mortimer, 'you wrong me. I should
be the last person to taint your mind with any unfounded suspicion. But
it is natural, you know, that years should teach us caution.'

'Oh!' exclaimed I, fervently clasping my hands, 'if age must chill all
my affections, and leave me only a dead soul chained to a half-living
body, may Heaven grant that my years may be few! May I go to my grave
ere my heart cease to love and trust its fellows!'

'Dearest child!' cried Miss Mortimer, 'may many a happy year improve and
refine your affections; and may they long survive the enthusiasm which
paints their objects as faultless! But is it not better that you should
know a little of Lady St Edmunds' character, before intimacy confirm her
power over you?'

'Why should I know any thing more of her than I do? I can see that she
has the most penetrating understanding, the most affectionate heart!'

'No doubt these are great endowments; but something more may be
necessary. The proverb is not the less true for its vulgarity, which
tells us, that the world will estimate us by our associates; and, what
is still more important, the estimate will prove just. If you form
intimacies with the worthless, or even with the suspected----'

'Worthless! suspected!' exclaimed I, my blood boiling with indignation;
'who dares to use such epithets in speaking of Lady St Edmunds?'

'Be calm, Ellen. I did not, at the moment that I uttered these offensive
words, intend any personal application. If I had, my language should
have been less severe. But I can inform you, that the world has been
less cautious, and that those epithets have been very freely applied to
Lady St Edmunds!'

'Yes! perhaps by a set of waspish bigots, envious of her, who is herself
so far above the meanness of envy,--or who cannot pardon her for
refusing to make Sunday a day of penance!'

Miss Mortimer, though naturally one of the most timid creatures upon
earth, was as inflexible in regard to some particular opinions, as if
she had had the nerves of a Hercules. 'Indeed, Ellen,' said she, calmly,
'it would be ungrateful in you, or any other woman of fashion, to charge
the world with intolerance towards Sabbath-breakers. I fear that Lady St
Edmunds would give little offence by her Sunday's parties, if she were
circumspect in her more private conduct.'

'Bless my heart, Miss Mortimer!' cried I, 'what have I to do with the
private conduct of all my acquaintance? What is it to me, if Lady St
Edmunds spoil her children, or rule her husband, or lose a few hundred
pounds at cards now and then?'

Miss Mortimer smiled.--'Even bigots,' said she, 'must acquit her
Ladyship of all these faults, for she takes no concern with her
children,--she is separated from her husband,--and certainly does not
_lose_ at cards.'

'And so you, who pretend to preach charity towards all mankind, can
condescend to retail second-hand calumny! You would have me desert an
amiable, and, I am persuaded, an injured woman, merely because she has
the misfortune to be slandered!'

'When you know me better, Ellen,' said Miss Mortimer, meekly, 'you will
find, that it is not my practice to repeat any scandalous tale, without
some better reason than my belief that it is true. I shall not at
present defend the justice of the censures which have fallen upon Lady
St Edmunds. I will merely offer you my opinion, in hopes that, a few
hours hence, you may reconsider it. If a friend, whose worth you had
proved, whose affection you had secured, were made a mark for the shafts
of calumny,--far be it from you to seek a base shelter, leaving her
unshielded, to be 'hit by the archers;' but, against the formation of a
new acquaintance, the slightest suspicion ought, in my opinion, to be
decisive. The frailty of a good name is as proverbial as its value; and
virgin fame is far too precious to be ventured upon uncertainty, and far
too frail to escape uninjured even from the appearance of hazard.'

This speech was so long that it gave me time to cool, and so
incontrovertible, that I found some difficulty in replying. Before I
could summon a rejoinder, Miss Mortimer, who never pursued a victory,
had quitted the room. She had left me an unpleasant subject of
meditation; but she had allowed me to postpone the consideration of it
for a few hours; so, in the mean time, I turned my thoughts to the
masquerade.

And first, by way of safeguard against temptation, I thought it best to
lay down an immutable resolution that I would not go. It was very hard,
indeed, to be deprived of such a harmless amusement; but, as I had given
an unlucky promise, I purposed magnanimously to adhere to it, resolving,
however, to indemnify myself the next opportunity. Thus mortified, I
began to indulge my fancy in painting what _might have been_ the
pleasures of the masquerade. I imagined (there was surely no harm in
imagining!) how well I could have personated the fair Fatima,--how
happily the turban would have accorded with the Grecian turn of my
head,--how softly the transparent sleeves of my caftan would have shaded
my rounded arm,--how favourably the Turkish costume would have shown the
light limb, and the elastic step. I invented a hundred witticisms which
I might have uttered,--a hundred compliments which I might have
received. Above all, I dwelt upon the approbation, the endearments of
the charming Lady St Edmunds, till my heart bounded with the ideal joy.
When I retired to rest, the same gay visions surrounded me; and I gladly
awoke to pursue them again in my waking dreams.

How suitable to our nature is that commandment which places upon the
thoughts the first restraints of virtue! It was painful to interrupt my
delightful reverie, by renewing my resolutions of self-denial, so I
passed them over as already fixed, insensible how fatally I was
undermining their foundations. The bribe must be poor indeed, which the
aids of imagination cannot render irresistible. The longer my fancy
dwelt upon my lost pleasure, the more severe seemed my privation, the
more unfounded Miss Mortimer's prejudice. From the wish that the thing
had been right, the step was easy to the belief that it could not be
_very_ wrong. Before the morning, my inclination had so far bewildered
my judgment, that Miss Arnold found no difficulty in persuading me to
refer the matter to my father; and, regardless of my promise, to abide
by his decision.

She herself undertook the statement of the case; for it happened, I know
not how, that, even when she spoke only truth, her statements always
served a purpose better than mine. The effect of her adroit
representation was, that my father decided in favour of the masquerade;
observing that 'Miss Mortimer, though a very good woman, had some odd
notions, which it would not do for every body to adopt.'

Thus it seemed determined that I was to enjoy the amusement upon which I
had set my heart. And yet I was not satisfied. My gay visions were no
sooner likely to be realised, than they lost half their charms. A slight
scrutiny into my own mind would have enabled me to trace the cause of
this change to a consciousness of error; but a vague anticipation of the
issue was sufficient to prevent me from entering upon the enquiry. I
therefore contented myself with attempting to impose upon my own
judgment, by asserting that, since my father was satisfied, I was at
full liberty to pursue my inclination. 'To be sure,' said Miss Arnold,
'when Mr Percy has given his permission, who else has any right to
interfere?'

'And will you, my dear sir, speak of it to Miss Mortimer,' said I,
anxious to transfer that task to any one who would undertake it.

'Oh, I'll manage all that,' cried Miss Arnold. 'If Mr Percy were to
mention the matter to Miss Mortimer, it would look as if he thought
himself accountable to her; and then there would be no end of it; for
she fancies already that she should be consulted in every thing that
concerns you,--as if Mr Percy, who has so long superintended the
greatest concerns in the kingdom, could not direct his own family
without her interference!'

I believe my father, as well as myself, might have some latent
misgivings of mind, which made him not unwilling to accept of Miss
Arnold's offered services. 'I have so many important affairs to mind,'
said he, 'that I shall probably think no more of such a trifle; so I
commission you, Miss Juliet, to let Miss Mortimer know my opinion;
which, I dare say, you will do discreetly, for you seem a civil,
judicious young lady. Elizabeth, poor soul, meant all for the best;
thinking to save me a few pounds, I suppose. But you may let her know,
that what it may be very commendable in her to save is altogether below
my notice. When a man has thousands, and tens of thousands passing
through his hands every day, it gives him a liberal way of thinking. But
as for a woman, who never was mistress of a hundred pounds at a time,
what can she know of liberality?'

My father had now entered on a favourite topic, the necessary connection
between riches and munificence. Miss Arnold listened respectfully,
approving by smiles, nods, and single words of assent; while I stood
wrapt in my meditations, if I may give that name to the succession of
unsightly images which conscience forced into my mind, and which I as
quickly banished. Having triumphantly convinced an antagonist who
ventured not upon opposition, my father withdrew; and left my friend and
me to consult upon our communication to Miss Mortimer.

'She will be in a fine commotion,' said I, endeavouring to smile, 'when
she hears that we are going to this masquerade after all. But since you
have undertaken the business, Juliet, you may break it to her to-night,
while I am at the opera; and then the fracas will be partly over before
I come home.'

'I have been just thinking,' said Miss Arnold, 'all the time that your
father was making that fine oration, that it would be wiser not to break
it to her at all. Where is the necessity for her knowing any thing of
the matter? We shall have other invitations for the same evening; so we
may go somewhere else first, and afterwards look in for an hour or two
at the ball. Nobody need know that we have been there.'

'What, Juliet! would you have me steal off in that clandestine way, as
if I were afraid or ashamed to do what my father approves of? If I am to
act in defiance of Miss Mortimer, I will do it openly, and not slavishly
pilfer my right, as if I did not dare to assert it.'

'Don't be angry, Ellen,' said Miss Arnold, soothingly; 'I shall most
willingly do whatever you think best. But, for my part, I would almost
as soon give up the masquerade, as be lectured about it for the next
three weeks.'

'But, to give Miss Mortimer her due,' returned I, 'she does not lecture
much.'

'That is true,' replied Miss Arnold. 'But then she will look so
dolefully at us. I am sure I would rather be scolded heartily at once.'

In this last sentiment, I cordially sympathised; for the silent
upbraiding of the eye is the very poetry of reproach--it addresses
itself to the imagination. 'I wish,' cried I, sighing from the very
bottom of my heart, 'that I had never heard of this ball!'

'In my opinion,' said Miss Arnold, 'it would save both us and Miss
Mortimer a great deal of vexation, if she were never to hear more of
it.'

'Say no more of that, Juliet,' interrupted I; 'I am determined not to
take another step in the business without her knowledge.'

Miss Arnold was silent for a few moments; and when her voice again drew
my attention, I perceived tears in her eyes. 'Well, Ellen,' said she,
'since you are so determined, I see only one way of settling the matter
quietly. I will give my ticket to Miss Mortimer,--she can have no
objection to your going, if she be there herself to watch you.'

'Never name such a thing to me, Juliet! What! leave you moping alone,
fancying all the pleasure you might have had, while I am amusing myself
abroad. I had rather never see a mask in my life!'

'I should prefer any thing to bringing her ill-humour upon you,' said
Miss Arnold; 'and since you persist in telling her, I see no other way
of escape. I shall most cheerfully resign the masquerade to give you
pleasure.'

'My own dear Juliet!' cried I, locking my arms round her neck, while
unbidden tears filled my eyes, 'how can you talk of giving my pleasure
by sacrificing your own, when you know that more than half the delight
in my life is to share its joys with you.' Nor were these the empty
sounds of compliment, nor even the barren expression of a passing
fervour. My purse, my ornaments, my amusements, even the assiduities of
my admirers, all on which my foolish heart was most fixed, I freely
shared with her. Yet, this same Juliet--but is it for me to complain of
ingratitude?--for me, who, favoured by an all-bountiful Benefactor,
abused his gifts, despised his warnings, neglected his commands,
abhorred his intercourse! Let those who are conscious of similar demerit
cease to reproach the less flagrant baseness, which repays with evil the
feeble benefits that man bestows on man.

On the present occasion, Juliet's influence prevailed with me so far,
that, before we separated, I had agreed to a compromise. I persisted,
indeed, in refusing to go clandestinely to the masquerade, but I adhered
to my purpose of going; and pledged my word, that, in order to avoid all
importunity on the subject, I would leave Miss Mortimer in ignorance of
my determination, till the very hour of its accomplishment. Miss Arnold
undertook to keep my father silent, which she performed in the most
dexterous manner; and with the more ease, because, perhaps, he was
conscious that the subject furnished materials for confession as well as
for narrative.




CHAPTER VIII

                _--You squander freely,
    But have you wherewithal? Have you the fund
    For these outgoings? If you have, go on;
    If you have not--stop in good time, before
    You outrun honesty._

                                             Cumberland (from Diphilus).


In defiance of Miss Mortimer's advice, I returned Lady St Edmunds' visit
without delay. I made, indeed, some general enquiries into the character
of my new favourite; myself unwilling to hear, I learnt that she was
said to play games of chance with extraordinary skill and success; and
that she was suspected of impropriety in a point where detection is
still more fatal. It is unfortunate that prudence and self-sufficiency
are so rarely found together since he who will make no use of the wisdom
of others, certainly needs an extraordinary fund of his own. I was
predetermined to consider whatever could be advanced against Lady St
Edmunds, as the effect of malicious misrepresentation. My self-conceit
pointed me out as no improper person to stem the tide of unjustice; and,
by an admirable, though in this case an abused, provision in our nature,
my kindly feelings towards her were strengthened at once by my
intentions to serve her, and by my resentment of her supposed wrongs.

Lady St Edmunds, on her part, more than met my advances. She treated me
with a distinction which I ascribed solely to the most flattering
partiality; and sought my society with an eagerness in which I suspected
no aim beyond its own gratification. Even now, when experience has
taught me to look through these fair seemings, I am convinced that her
affection was not entirely feigned; for I have seldom met with a heart
so callous, as not to be touched with a transient sympathy at least, by
the honest enthusiasm of youth. In the mean time, I had the more
confidence in the disinterestedness of her regard, because I could
detect no sinister motive for her attentions. Once, and only once, she
had engaged me in play; but the stake was not large, and I rose a
winner.

Miss Mortimer nevertheless continued her opposition to the acquaintance,
remonstrating against it with a perseverance and warmth which
alternately surprised and provoked me. Regarding her warnings as the
voice of that cold ungenerous suspicion which I imagined to be incident
to age, I took a perverse delight in extolling the attractions of my new
friend, and in magnifying their power over me. One prophecy of my
Cassandra was impressed upon my recollection, by its containing the only
severe expression that ever my incorrigible wilfulness could exert from
the forbearing spirit of the Christian. Among other rapturous epithets,
I called Lady St Edmunds my dear enchantress. 'Well may you give her
that name,' said Miss Mortimer, 'for she is drawing you into a circle
where nothing good or holy must tread; and if you will follow her to the
tempter's own ground, you must bid farewell to better spirits. The wise
and the virtuous will one by one forsake you, until you have no guide
but such as lead to evil, and no companions but such as take advantage
of your errors, or share in your ruin.'

It is astonishing, that beings formed to look forward so anxiously to
the future, when anxiety can be of no avail, should often treat it with
such perverse disregard, when foresight might indeed be useful. Will it
be believed, that, from this very conversation, I went to exhibit myself
to half the town, as Lady St Edmunds' companion, by attending her to an
auction?

The sale was in consequence of an execution in the house of a lady of
high fashion; and thither of course came all those of her own rank, who
wished to be relieved of their time, their money, or their curiosity.
Lord Frederick de Burgh, who seemed the almost constant associate of his
fair relative, was of our party. Indeed I could not help observing, upon
all occasions, that his attentions to me were infinitely more
particular, since my father had announced his decision. But I regarded
that decision as final; and merely inferred, that Lord Frederick, like
Miss Arnold, perceived the safety of a flirtation, which could lead to
no consequence; or that, in the true spirit of his sex, he grew eager in
pursuit, when attainment appeared difficult.

As the sale proceeded, a hundred useless toys were exposed, and called
forth a hundred vain and unlovely emotions. Curiosity, admiration,
desire, impatience, envy, and resentment, chased each other over many a
fair face; and the flush of angry disappointment, or of unprofitable
victory, stained many a cheek from whence the blush of modesty had faded
for ever. I took out my pencil to caricature a group, in which a spare
dame, whose face combined no common contrast of projection and
concavity, was darting from her sea-green eyes sidelong flames upon a
china jar, which was surveyed with complacent smiles by its round and
rosy purchaser. But my labours were interrupted, and from an amused
spectator of the scene, I was converted into a keen actor, when the
auctioneer exposed a tortoise-shell dressing-box, magnificently inlaid
with gold. Art had exhausted itself in the elegance of the pattern and
the delicacy of the workmanship. It was every way calculated to arrest
the regards of fine ladies; for, like them, it was useless and expensive
in proportion to its finery. It was put up at fifty guineas; less, as we
were assured by the auctioneer, than half its value. Rather than allow
such matchless beauty to be absolutely thrown away, I bade for the
bauble. It proved equally attractive to others, and my fair opponents
soon raised its price to seventy pounds. There for a while it made a
pause, and no one seemed inclined to go farther; but this was still far
below its value. I hesitated for a few moments; and then, in the
conviction that nobody would bid more, increased my offer. It seems I
was mistaken. The lady with whom, but for my perseverance, the prize
would have remained, measured me with a very contemptuous look, and bade
again with a composure which seemed to say, 'Does the girl fancy she can
contend with me?' This was attacking me on the weak side. I instantly
bade again. The lady coolly did the same. I, growing more warm, went on.
The lady proceeded, with smiles not quite of courtesy; till, in exchange
for my discretion, my temper, and a hundred and fifteen pounds, I had
gained the tortoise-shell dressing-box.

The costly toy was already in my possession, and already every eye was
turned upon me with envy, sarcasm, or compassion, before I remembered
that it was necessary to pay for my purchase. In some perplexity I began
to search for my purse; recollecting, not without dismay, that it did
not contain above twenty guineas. I had indeed a further supply at home,
but the law of the sale required that every purchase should be paid for
upon the spot, and I was obliged to apply to Lady St Edmunds for
assistance. This was the first time that ever I had found occasion to
borrow money; and I shall never forget the embarrassment which it cost
me. With a confusion which would have dearly paid for the possession of
ten thousand baubles, I, in a timid, scarcely intelligible whisper,
begged Lady St Edmunds to lend me the necessary sum, assuring her that
it should be repaid that very day. Her Ladyship at first frankly
consented to my request; but suddenly recollecting herself, declared
that she had not a guinea about her; and, without waiting for my
concurrence, called upon Lord Frederick to relieve my difficulty. Giddy
and imprudent as I was, I shrunk from incurring this obligation to Lord
Frederick. I at first positively refused his aid; and while, for a few
minutes, I sat affecting to examine my purchase, I was cordially wishing
that its materials were still in opposite hemispheres, and endeavouring
to gain courage for a petition to some other of my acquaintance.

I at last fixed upon a young lady of fortune with whom I had contracted
some intimacy; and, under pretence of exhibiting my box, beckoned her
towards me, and requested her to lend me the money. With an aspect of
profound amazement, she exclaimed, 'La, my dear! how can you think of
such a thing? I have not ten pounds in the world. I never have. It is
always spent before I can lay a finger on it.'--'Indeed! I was in hopes
you were in cash just now, for I thought I observed you bid for this
box.'--'Oh, one must bid now and then for a little amusement! But I
assure you I had no thoughts of buying such a splendid affair. I must
leave that to those who have more money than they know what to do with.'

I could perceive a tincture of malice in the smile which accompanied
these words; and turning from her, resumed my conversation with Lady St
Edmunds. Her Ladyship rallied me unmercifully upon what she called my
prudery; asking me, in a very audible whisper, what sort of interest I
expected Lord Frederick to exact, which made me so afraid of becoming
his debtor. Lord Frederick himself joined in the raillery; and,
laughing, offered to recommend me to an honest Jew, if I preferred such
a creditor. Their manner of treating the subject made me almost ashamed
of having refused Lord Frederick's assistance, especially as I was
certain that the obligation might be discharged in an hour. I suspected,
indeed, though I was but imperfectly acquainted with the state of my
funds, that they were insufficient for this demand; but I knew that Miss
Arnold had money, because I had divided my quarterly allowance with
her, and had not since observed her to incur any serious expense.
Besides, I was convinced that my father would permit me to draw upon him
in advance, so that at all events I should be able to discharge my debt
on the following day. I therefore half playfully, half in earnest,
accepted of Lord Frederick's offered aid; and he instantly delivered the
money to me with a gallantry, which showed that a man of fashion can,
upon extraordinary occasions, be polite.

When I had received the notes, I jestingly asked him what security I
should give him for their repayment? Lord Frederick took my hand, and
drawing from my finger a ring of small value, said, with more
seriousness than I expected, 'This shall be my pledge; but you must not
imagine that I shall restore it for a few paltry guineas. You may have
it again as soon as you will, on a fit occasion.' I could have dispensed
with this piece of gallantry, which was conducted too seriously for my
taste; but a lady, like a member of Parliament, must accept of no
favours if she would preserve the right of remonstrance, and I allowed
Lord Frederick to keep the ring.

Soon afterwards we returned home, and I proceeded to examine the state
of my funds. I was astonished to find that my bureau did not contain
above ten pounds. I searched every drawer and concealment, wondering at
intervals what could possibly have become of my money,--a wonder, I
believe, in which the fugitive nature of guineas involves every fair
lady who keeps no exact register of their departure. Thus employed, I
was found by Miss Arnold, to whom I immediately unfolded my dilemma;
calling upon her to assist me with her recollection, as to the disposal
of my funds, and with her purse, in supply of their present deficiency.
On the first point, she was tolerably helpful to me, recalling to my
mind many expenses which I had utterly forgotten; but, in regard to the
second, she protested, with expressions of deep regret, that she could
yield me no assistance. 'You may well look astonished, dearest Ellen,'
pursued she, 'considering your noble generosity to me. But, indeed,
nothing could have happened more unfortunately. It was only yesterday
that I visited my brother, and happened to tell him what a princely
spirit you had, and how liberal you had been to me. The deuce take my
tongue for being so nimble,--but it is all your own fault, Ellen; for
you won't let me praise you to your face, and one can't always be
silent. So, just then, in came a fellow with a long bill for some vile
thing or another, and my brother bid me lend him my money that he might
settle with the creature. What could I do, you know? I could not
refuse. But if I had once guessed that you could possibly want it, I
should as soon have lent him my heart's blood.'

I suffered the tale to conclude without interruption; for indeed I was
fully as much astonished as I looked. I had by no means understood that
my friend was upon such terms with her brother as to incline her to lend
him money; nor that he was in such circumstances as to need to borrow. A
doubt of her truth, however, never once darkened my mind. Self-love
prevented me, as it daily prevents thousands, from making the very
obvious reflection, that one who could be disingenuous with others to
serve me, might be disingenuous with me to serve herself. Miss Arnold
proceeded to reproach herself in the bitterest manner for her
improvidence in parting with the money, and seemed so heartily vexed,
that the little spleen which my disappointment had at first excited
entirely subsided; and I comforted my friend as well as I was able, by
assuring her that my father would advance whatever money I desired.

Miss Arnold now, in her turn, was silent, wearing a look of grave
consideration. 'If I were in your place, Ellen,' said she, at last, 'I
don't think I would mention this matter to Mr Percy.'

'Not mention it!' said I, 'why not?'

'Because,' returned Miss Arnold, 'I see no end it can serve, except to
make him angry. You know his pompous notions; and, after what has
passed, I am sure he will think you borrowing money from Lord Frederick
an act of downright rebellion.'

'Indeed,' returned I, 'that is very likely; but I promised to repay Lord
Frederick to-morrow; and I have no other way of obtaining the money.'

'Poh! my dear, you are so punctilious about trifles! What can it
possibly signify to Lord Frederick whether he be repaid to-morrow, or
the day after?'

'Why, to be sure, it cannot signify much; only, as I have given my
promise, I do not like to break it.'

'Well, really, Ellen, if I were to shut my eyes, I could sometimes fancy
you had been brought up with some queer old aunt in the country. What
difference can one day make? And I am sure, by the end of the week, at
farthest, I could get the money from my brother, and settle the whole
matter peaceably. Do take my advice, and say nothing about it to your
father; he will be so angry; and you know, at the worst, you can tell
him at any time.'

Had my mind been well regulated, or my judgment sound, Miss Arnold's
argument would itself have defeated her purpose; and the very conviction
of my father's disliking my debt to Lord Frederick would have determined
me that it should, at all hazards, be repaid. But I was fated, in many
instances, to suffer the penalty of those perverted habits of mind,
which imposed upon me a sort of moral disability of choosing right, as
often as a choice was presented to me. Misled by an artful adviser, or
rather, perhaps, by my own inveterate abhorrence of reproof, I chose
that clandestine path, in which none can tread with peace or safety. In
this fatal decision began a long train of evil.

Warned by my example, let him who is entering upon life review, with a
suspicious eye, the transactions which he is inclined to conceal from
the appointed guardians of his virtue. If the subject be of moment, let
him be wisely fearful to rely upon his own judgment;--if it be trivial,
let not concealment swell it to disastrous importance. If he have,
unfortunately, a tendency to creep through the winding covered path, let
him not strengthen by one additional act a habit so fatal to the lofty
port of honour. If, like me, he be of a frank and open nature, let him
not, to escape a transient evil, sink the light heart, and pervert the
simple purpose, and bend the erect dignity of truth. Let him who can
tread firm in conscious soundness of mind leave the stealthy course for
those to whom nature has given no better means of attaining their end.
The low and tangled way, the subtle tortuous progress, suits the base
earth-worm; let creatures of a nobler mould advance erect and steady.

Having dissuaded me from using the only means of discharging my debt
without delay, Miss Arnold, like a cautious general, contented herself
with fortifying the post she had taken; and, for the present, carried
her operations no further. But, the next day, she took occasion to ask
me, with a careless air, 'whether I had written a note of excuse to Lord
Frederick?' I answered that I had not thought of it. 'You intend
writing, of course,' said Miss Arnold, with that look of decision which
has often served the purpose of argument.

'Don't you think it will be rather awkward?' said I.

'That you should not write, you mean?--Very awkward, indeed. And then I
am sure you ought never to lose an opportunity of writing a note, for I
know nobody who has such a talent for turning these things neatly.'

The indistinct idea of impropriety which was floating in my mind was put
to flight by the nonchalance of Miss Arnold's manner; for, when reason
and conscience are deposed from their rightful authority at home, it is
amazing how abjectly they learn to bend, not to the passions only, but
to impulse merely external. I wrote the note to Lord Frederick. My
lover, for now I may fairly call him so, contrived to reply to my billet
in such terms as, with the help of Miss Arnold's counsels, produced a
rejoinder. This again occasioned another; and notes, sonnets, epistles
in verse, and billet-doux passed between us, till the folly had nearly
assumed the form of a regular correspondence. All this was, of course,
carried on without the knowledge of my father or Miss Mortimer; and so
rapid are the inroads of evil, that I soon began to find a mysterious
pleasure in the dexterity which compassed this furtive intercourse.

In the mean time, Miss Arnold was in no haste to perform her promise.
Day after day she found some excuse for not going to ask her money, or
some pretence for returning without it; and day after day she persuaded
me to wait for its restitution; till the uneasy feeling of undischarged
obligation subsided by degrees, and the natural disquiet of a debtor was
nearly lost in the giddiness of perpetual amusement.

As the masked ball drew near, my eagerness for it had completely
revived. It may seem strange, considering the multitude of my frivolous
pleasures, that any single one should have awakened such ardour. But a
masquerade was now the only amusement which was new to me; and I had
already begun to experience that craving for novelty which is incident
to all who seek for happiness where it never was and never will be
found,--in bubbles which amuse the sense, but cheat the longing soul.

So entirely was I occupied in anticipating my new pleasure, that I
should have had neither thought nor observation to bestow upon any other
subject, had not conscience sometimes turned my attention to Miss
Mortimer. I thought she looked ill and melancholy. Her complexion,
always delicate, had faded to a sickly hue. Her eyes were sunk and
hollow; and the jealous watchfulness of one who has given cause of
complaint, made me remark that they were often fixed sadly upon me. I
half suspected that she had discovered my intended breach of faith; and
wondered whether it were possible that my misconduct could make such an
impression upon her mind. I was relieved from this suspicion by the
frankness with which she one day lamented to me that my father, for some
reason which she could not divine, refused to permit a party to be
formed for the 5th of May. 'I could have wished,' said she, 'to make
that evening pass more gaily than I fear it will. Dear Ellen, how like
you are to your mother when you blush!'

'Then I am sure,' said I, 'I wish I could blush always, for there is
nobody I should like so much to resemble.'

'Well,' said Miss Mortimer, 'were it not for the fear of making you
vain, I could tell you, that there is a more substantial resemblance;
for she, like you, knew how to resign her strongest inclinations in
compliance with the wishes of her friends.'

This was too much. Conscience-struck, and quite thrown off my guard, I
exclaimed, 'Like me! Oh! she was no more like me, than an angel of light
is to a dark designing----' Recollecting that I was betraying myself, I
stopped.

Miss Mortimer turned upon me a smile so kind, so confiding, that as oft
as it rises to my memory I abhor myself. 'Nay, Ellen,' said she, 'if I
am to be your confessor lay open the sins which do really beset you;
unless, as Mr Maitland would say, you are afraid that I should have a
sinecure.'

'I have a great mind,' cried I, 'to make a resolution, that I will never
do a wrong thing again without confessing it to somebody!'

'The resolution would be a good one,' said Miss Mortimer, 'provided you
could rely upon the judgment and integrity of your confessor; and
provided you are sure that the pain of exposing your faults to another
will not lead you to conceal them more industriously from yourself.'

'Oh! I am sure I could never do wrong without being sensible of it. But
the misfortune is, that people have not the right method of talking of
my faults. They always contrive to say something provoking. You need not
smile. It is not that I am so uncandid that I cannot endure to be
blamed; for there's Juliet often finds fault with me, and I never grow
angry.'

'Well, Ellen,' said Miss Mortimer, 'if ever you should be inclined to
make trial of me, I promise you never intentionally to say any thing
provoking. In dexterity I shall not pretend to vie with Miss Arnold, but
in affectionate interest I will yield to none. You have a claim upon my
indulgence, which your errors can never cancel; especially as I am sure
that they will never lean towards artifice or meanness.'

The heart must be callously vile, which can bear to be stabbed with the
words of abused confidence. I sprung away in search of Miss Arnold, that
I might retract my promise of concealing from Miss Mortimer the affair
of the masquerade. I was met by the dress-maker, who, loaded with
parcels and band-boxes, came to fit on the attire of the fair Fatima;
and, during the hour which was consumed on this operation, the ardour of
my sincerity had cooled so far, that Miss Arnold easily prevailed on me
to let matters remain as we had first arranged them.

How often, I may say how invariably, did my better feelings vanish, ere
they issued into action! But feeling is, in its very nature, transient.
It is at best the meteor's blaze, shedding strong, but momentary day;
while principle, the true principle, be it faint at first as the star
whose ray hath newly reached our earth is yet the living light of the
higher heaven; which never more will leave us in utter darkness, but
lend a steady beam to guide our way.




CHAPTER IX

                         _--There we
    Solicit pleasure, hopeless of success;
    Waste youth in occupations only fit
    For second childhood; and devote old age
    To sports which only childhood could excuse.
    There they are happiest who dissemble best
    Their weariness; and they the most polite,
    Who squander time and treasure with a smile,
    Though at their own destruction._

                                             Cowper.


The fifth of May arrived; and never did lover, waiting the hour of
meeting, suffer more doubts and tremours than I did, lest Mrs Beetham
should disappoint me of my evening's paraphernalia. Although I had
ordered the dress to be at my bed-side as soon as I awoke, the faithless
mantua-maker detained it till after two o'clock; and the intermediate
hours were consumed in fits of anger, suspense, and despondency. At last
it came; and I hastened to ascertain its becomingness and effect. I knew
that Miss Mortimer was closeted with a medical friend; I had, therefore,
no interruption to fear from her. Yet I locked myself into my
dressing-room, because I could not, without constraint, allow even Miss
Arnold to witness those rehearsals of vanity, which I was not ashamed to
exhibit before Him who remembers that we are but dust. Others may smile
at this and many other instances of my folly. I look back upon them as
on the illusions of delirium, and shudder whilst I smile.

I was practising before a looking-glass the attitudes most favourable to
the display of my dress and figure, when my attention was drawn by the
sound of bustle in the staircase. I opened my door to discover the cause
of the noise, and perceived some of the servants bearing Miss Mortimer,
to all appearance lifeless. In horror and alarm I sprung towards her;
and in answer to some incoherent questions, I learnt, that she had had a
long private conference with Dr ----, and that he had scarcely left the
house, when she had fainted away. A servant had hastened to recall the
surgeon, but his carriage had driven off too quickly to be overtaken.

The dastardly habits of self-indulgence had so estranged me from the
very forms of sickness or of sorrow, that I now stood confounded by
their appearance; and if a menial, whose very existence I scarcely
deigned to remember, had not far excelled me in considerate presence of
mind, the world might then have lost one of its chief ornaments, and I
the glorious lesson of a Christian's life--of a Christian's death! By
means of the simple prescriptions of this poor girl, Miss Mortimer
revived. Her first words were those of thankfulness for all our cares;
her next request that she might be left alone. Recollecting my strange
attire, which alarm had driven from my mind, I felt no disinclination to
obey; but the girl, whose assistance had already been so useful, begged
for permission to remain. 'Indeed, ma'am,' said she, 'you ought not to
be left alone while you are so weak and ill.'

'Oh I am weaker than a child!' cried Miss Mortimer; 'but go, my dear: I
shall not be alone! I know where the weakest shall assuredly find
strength!'

The countenance of the person to whom she spoke gave signal of
intelligence; the rest stared with vacant wonder. All obeyed Miss
Mortimer's command; and I hastened to lay aside my Turkish drapery,
which, for some minutes, I had almost unconsciously been screening from
observation behind the magnitude of our fat housekeeper.

As soon as I had resumed my ordinary dress, I stole back to the door of
Miss Mortimer's apartment. I listened for a while,--but all was still. I
entered softly, and beheld Miss Mortimer upon her knees, her hands
clasped in supplication; the flush of hope glowing through the tears
which yet trembled on her cheek; her eyes raised with meek confidence,
as the asking infant looks up in his mother's face. I was not
unacquainted with the attitude of devotion. _That_ I might have studied
even at our theatres, where a mockery of prayer often insults both taste
and decency. I had even preserved from my childish days a habit of
uttering every morning a short 'form of sound words.' But the spirit of
prayer had never touched my heart; and when I beheld the signs of vital
warmth attend that which I had considered as altogether lifeless, it
seemed like the moving pictures in the gallery of Otranto, portentous of
something strange and terrible. 'Good heavens! my dear Miss Mortimer,'
exclaimed I, advancing towards her as she rose, and wiped the tears from
her eyes, 'surely something very distressing has happened to you.'

'Nothing new has happened,' answered she, holding out her hand kindly
towards me; 'only I have an additional proof that I am, by nature, a
poor, timid, trustless creature.'

'Ah!' cried I, 'do trust me. I can be as secret as the grave, and there
is nothing on earth I won't do to make you comfortable again.'

'I thank you, dear Ellen,' answered Miss Mortimer; 'but I have no secret
to tell; and, to make me comfortable, you must minister to both body and
mind. I have long been trifling with a dangerous disorder. I have acted
in regard to it as we are wont to do in regard to the diseases of our
souls,--deceived myself as to its existence, because I feared to
encounter the cure,--and now I must submit to an operation so tedious,
so painful!'--She stopped, shuddering. I was so much shocked, that I had
scarcely power to enquire whether there were danger in the experiment.
'Some danger there must be,' said Miss Mortimer; 'but it is not the
danger which I fear. Even such cowards as I can meet that which they are
daily accustomed to contemplate. If it had been the will of Heaven, I
would rather have died than----But it is not for me to choose. Shall I
presume to reject any means by which my life may be prolonged? Often,
often have I vowed,' continued she with strong energy of manner, 'that I
would not "live to myself." And was all false and hollow? Was this but
the vow of the hypocrite, the self-deceiver?'

'Oh no!' cried I, 'that is impossible. Before I knew you I might be
prejudiced. But now I see that you are always good,--always the same.
You cannot be a hypocrite.'

This testimony, extorted from me by uniform, consistent uprightness, was
answered only by a distrustful shake of the head; for Miss Mortimer
habitually lent a suspicious ear to the praise of her own virtues; and
was accustomed to judge of her thoughts and actions, not by the opinion
of others, but by a careful comparison with the standard of excellence.
Tears trickled down her cheeks while she upbraided herself as one who,
having pretended to give up all, kept back a part; and even those tears
she reproached as symbols of distrust and fear, rather than of
repentance. We soon grow weary of witnessing strong feeling in which we
cannot fully sympathise. I hinted to Miss Mortimer that a short rest
would compose her spirits, and recruit her strength; and, having
persuaded her to lie down, I left her.

Only a few months had passed since the fairest dream of pleasure would
have vanished from my mind at the thought that the life of the meanest
servant of our household was to hang upon the issue of a doubtful,
dangerous experiment. Only a few months had passed since the sufferings
of a friend would have banished sleep from my pillow, and joy from my
chosen delights. But intemperate pleasure is not more fatal to the
understanding than to the heart. It is not more adverse to the 'spirit
of a sound mind,' than to the 'spirit of love.' Social pleasures, call
we them! Let the name no more be prostituted to that which is poison to
every social feeling. Four months of dissipation had elapsed; and the
distress, the danger of my own friend, and my mother's friend, now made
no change in my scheme of pleasure for the evening. I was merely
perplexed how to impart that scheme to the poor invalid. Conscience,
indeed, did not fail to remind me, that to bestow this night upon
amusement was robbery of friendship and humanity; but I was unhappily
practised in the art of silencing her whispers. I assured myself that if
my presence could have been essentially useful to Miss Mortimer, I
should cheerfully have sacrificed my enjoyment to hers; but I was
certain that if I remained at home, the sight of her melancholy would
depress me so much as to make my company a mere burden. I

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/38510