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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 [1]

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

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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[2] 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[3] 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 be-ing 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,[4] 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 as-

cribed to a kindred partiality. On my father's return from the counting-house, my double rectified bon mots were commonly repeated

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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[5] 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[6] 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

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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[7] mother judged it proper to refuse. But the mes-

sage 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[8] 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 tender-

ness 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[9] 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

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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[10] 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!

[11] 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[12] 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.

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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 ef-fort, 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[13] 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[14] 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 sup-

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pose 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,[15] 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[16] 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,

7

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.[17] 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[18] 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.

[19]

8

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[20] 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,[21] 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

9

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[22] 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[23] 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

10

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[24] 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. [25]

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 com-mon 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.'

[26]

11

'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, hav-ing 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 what-

ever 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[27] 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, pretend-ing 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[28] 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

12

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 shallow-ness. My father made some ineffectual attempts to reduce us to order; and Miss Mortimer endeavoured to dissolve our combina-tion,[29] 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.

[30]

13

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[31] 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. [32]

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.[33] 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.'

14

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[34] 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 star-

tled 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[35] 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.

15

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[36] 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[37] 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.'

16

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[38] 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 un-exceptionable 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[39] 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 12,000l. 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[40] immediate favour, by informing me, that 'the whole town believed Lady Maria's pretended cold to be nothing but a fit

17

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.

[41] 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[42] 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? Re-ally, 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.'

18

'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[43] 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 inef-

fective. 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[44] 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.'

19

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.'

[45]

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[46]

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?'

20

'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[47] 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 de-pend 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'[48] 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 compo-

21

sure, 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[49] 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 muti-neer.

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[50]

22

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. [51]

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.

[52]

'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

23

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 haz-ard.'

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[53] 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[54] 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.'

24

'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 re-

quest.'

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[55] 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.

25

'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[56] 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[57] 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.'

26

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[58] 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[59] 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,[60] 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

27

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.'

[61]

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 exer-

tion of mind or[62] 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,[63] '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

28

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.

[64]

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[65] 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.'

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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[66] 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.'

[67]

'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----'

30

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

munds?'

'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[68] 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[69] 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 state-ments always served a purpose better than mine. The effect of her adroit representation was, that my father decided in favour of the

31

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[70] 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,[71] 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.'

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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[72] 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.

[73]

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[74] 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

33

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.

[75]

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[76] 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 treat-

34

ing 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[77] 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[78] 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[79] Arnold's argument would itself have defeated her purpose; and

35

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,[80] 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[81] 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

36

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 can-not 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[82] 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.

[83] 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[84] 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 serv-

37

ants 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[85] 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[86] 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

38

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 feel-

ing. 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 endeavoured to persuade myself that, after the scene of the morning, my spirits needed a cordial; and a sudden fit of economy represented to me the impropriety of throwing aside as useless, a dress which had cost an incredible sum. At the recollection of this dress, my thoughts at once flew from excusing my folly to anticipating its delights; and, in a moment, I was already in the ball-room, surrounded with every pleasure, but those of reason, taste, and virtue.

This heartless selfishness may well awaken resentment or contempt; but it ought not to excite surprise. The sickly child, whose helplessness needs continual care, whose endless cravings require endless supplies, whose incessant complainings extort incessant consolation, acquires the undeserved partiality of his mother. The very flower which we have cherished in the sunshine, and sheltered[87] from the storm, attains, in our regard, a value not its own; and whoever confines his cares, and his ingenuity, to his own gratification, will find, that self-love is not less rapid, or less vigorous in its progress, than any better affection of the soul.

All my endeavours, however, could not make me satisfied with my determination. I therefore resorted to my convenient friend, with whose honied words I could always qualify my self-upbraidings. I opened the case, by saying, that I believed we should be obliged to give up the masquerade after all; but I should have been terribly disappointed if that opinion had passed uncontroverted. I was, however, in no danger. Miss Arnold knew exactly when she might contradict without offence; and did not fail to employ all her persuasion on the side where it was least necessary. This question, therefore, was quickly settled; but another still remained,--how were we to announce our purpose to Miss Mortimer? With this part of the subject inclination had nothing to do; and therefore we found this point so much more difficult to decide, that when we were dressed, and ready to depart, the matter was still in debate.

It was, however, suddenly brought to an issue, by the appearance of Miss Mortimer. She had remained alone in her apartment during the early part of the evening; and now entered the drawing-room with her wonted aspect of serene benevolence, a little 'sicklied o'er by the pale cast of thought.' I involuntarily retreated behind Miss Arnold, who herself could not help shrinking back. Miss Mortimer advanced towards her with the most unconscious air of kindness. 'You are quite equipped for conquest, Miss Arnold,' said she. 'I never saw any thing so gracefully fantastic.' She had now obtained a view of my figure, and the truth seemed to flash upon her at once; for she started, and changed colour.

A dead silence followed, for indeed I did not dare to look up, much less speak. Miss Arnold first recovered herself. 'Mr Percy,' said

she, endeavouring to speak carelessly, 'has given Ellen and me permission to go out for an hour.'

'Yes,' rejoined I hesitatingly, 'papa has given us leave, and we shall only stay a very little while.'--Miss Mortimer made no answer. I

stole a glance at her, and saw that she was pale as death. I ventured a step nearer to her. 'You are not very angry with us,' said I.

'No, Miss Percy,' said she, in a low constrained voice; 'I never claimed a right to dictate where you should or should not go. There was, therefore, on this occasion, the less necessity for having recourse[88] to----'

She left the sentence unfinished; but my conscience filled up the pause. 'Indeed, my dear Miss Mortimer,' said I, for at that moment I was thoroughly humbled, 'I never meant to go without your knowledge. Miss Arnold will tell you that we have been all day contriving how we should mention it to you.'

'Your word did not use to need confirmation,' said Miss Mortimer, sighing heavily. 'I did hope,' continued she, 'that you would have

spared to me a part of this evening; for I have many things to say, and this is the last----'

Miss Mortimer stopped, cleared her throat, bit her quivering lip, and began industriously to arrange the drapery upon my shoulder; but all would not do,--she burst into tears. I could not withstand Miss Mortimer's emotion, and, throwing my arms round her neck,--'My dear, dear friend,' I cried, 'be angry with me, scold me as much as you will, only do not grieve yourself. If I could once have guessed that you were to be ill to-night, I should never have thought of this vile ball; and I am sure, if it will please you, I will send away the carriage, and stay at home still.'

This proposal was perfectly sincere, but not very intelligible; for the thought of such a sacrifice overpowered me so completely, that the last words were choked with sobs. Miss Mortimer seemed at first to hesitate whether she should not accept of my offer; but,

39

after a few moments' reflection, 'No, Ellen,' said she, 'I will not cause you so cruel a disappointment; for surely--surely this masquerade has seized upon a most disproportionate share of your wishes. You must soon be left to your own discretion; and why should I impose an unavailing hardship? Go then, my love, and be as happy as you can.'

My heart leapt light at this concession. 'Dear, good, kind Miss Mortimer,' cried I, kissing her cheek, 'do not be afraid of me. I assure you, I shall be more discreet and prudent this evening than ever I was in my life.'

Miss Mortimer gave me an April smile. 'This is not much like the garb of discretion,' said she, looking at my dress, which indeed approached the utmost limit of fashionable allurement. 'It seems time that I should cease to advise, else I should beg of you to make some little addition to your dress. You may meet with people, even at a masquerade, who think that no charm can atone for any defect of modesty; and I should imagine, that your spirit would scarcely brook the remarks they might make.'

[89]

'I am sure,' said I, with a blush which owed its birth as much to pique as to shame, 'I never thought of being immodest, nor of any

thing else, except to look as well as I could; but if it will please you, I shall get a tucker, and let you cover me as much as you will.'

Miss Mortimer good-naturedly accepted this little office; saying, while she performed it, 'it is a good principle in dress, that the chief use of clothing is concealment. I am persuaded, that you would never offend in this point, were you to remember, that if ever an exposed figure pleases, it must be in some way in which no modest woman would wish to please.'

Meanwhile Miss Arnold, who was even more impatient than myself to be gone, had ordered the carriage to the door. Miss Mortimer took leave of me with a seriousness of manner approaching to solemnity; and we departed. The moment we were alone, Juliet proposed to undo Miss Mortimer's labours, declaring that 'they had quite made a fright of me.' Fortunately for such a world as this, the most questionable principle may produce insulated acts of propriety. My pride for once espoused the right side. 'Forbear, Juliet!' cried I indignantly. 'Would you have people to look at me as they do at the very outcasts of womankind,--some with pity, some with scorn?'

Miss Arnold's 'hour' had elapsed long before the concourse of carriages would allow us to alight at Lady St Edmunds' door. On my first entrance, I was so bewildered by the confusion of the scene, and the grotesque figures of the masks, that I could scarcely recognise the mistress of the revels, although we had previously concerted the dress which she was to wear. She presently, however, relieved this dilemma, by addressing me in character; though she was, or pretended to be, unable to penetrate my disguise. The

tinge of seriousness which Miss Mortimer had left upon my spirits being aided by the alarm created by so many unsightly shapes, I determined not to quit Lady St Edmunds' side during the evening; and was just going to tell her my name in a whisper, when I was accosted by a Grand Signior, whom, in spite of his disguise, I thought I discovered to be Lord Frederick de Burgh. I was somewhat surprised at this coincidence in our characters, as I had kept that in which I intended to appear a profound secret from all but Miss Arnold, who protested that she had never breathed it to any human being. Lord Frederick, however, for I was convinced that it was he, addressed me as a stranger; and, partly from the vanity of pleasing in a new character, I answered in the same strain. We were speedily engaged in a[90] conversation, in the course of which a conviction of our previous acquaintance placed me so much at ease with my Turk, that I felt little disturbance, when, on looking round, I perceived that our matron had mingled with the crowd, leaving Miss Arnold and me to his protection. I supposed, however, to my friend, that we should go in search of Lady St Edmunds; and, still attended by our Grand Signior, we began our round.

And here let me honestly confess, that my pastime very poorly compensated the concealment, anxiety, and remorse which it had already cost me. Even novelty, that idol of spoilt children, could scarcely defend me from weariness and disgust. In the more intel-lectual part of my anticipated amusement I was completely disappointed; for the attempts made to support character were few and feeble. The whole entertainment, for the sake of which I had broken my promise, implied, if not expressed,--for the sake of which I had given the finishing stroke to the unkindness, ingratitude, and contumacy of my behaviour towards my mother's friend,-- amounted to nothing more than looking at a multitude of motley habits, for the most part mean, tawdry, and unbecoming; and listening to disjointed dialogues, consisting of dull questions and unmeaning answers, thinly bestrown with constrained witticisms, and puns half a century old. The easy flow of conversation, which makes even trifles pass agreeably, was destroyed by the supposed necessity of being smart; and the eloquence of the human eye, of the human smile, was wanting to add interest to what was vapid, and kindliness to what was witty. Lord Frederick, indeed, did what he could to enliven the scene. He pointed out the persons whom

he knew through their disguises; and desired me to observe how generally each affected the character which he found the least attainable in common life. 'That,' said he, 'is Glendower in the dress of a conjurer. That virgin of the sun is Lady B----, whose divorce-bill is to be before the House to-morrow. That Minerva is Lady Maria de Burgh; and that figure next to her is Miss Sarah Winterfield, who has stuck a flaxen wig upon her grizzled pate that she may for once pass for a Venus.'

40

'If I am to judge by your rule,' said I, 'you must be content to be taken for some Christian slave, snatching a transitory greatness.'

'You guess well, fair Fatima; I am indeed a slave; and these royal robes are meant to conceal my chains from all but my lovely mistress.'

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'Why then do you confess them so freely to me?'

'Because I am persuaded that this envious mask conceals the face of my sultana.'

'No, no; by your rule I must be some stern old gouvernante, who have locked up your sultana, and come to seize the pleasures which

I deny to her.'

'Oh! here my rule is useless; for, from what I see, I can guess very correctly what is concealed. For instance, there is first a pair of saucy hazel eyes, sparkling through their long fringes. Cheeks of roses----'

'Pshaw! commonplace----'

'Nay, not common vulgar country roses--but living and speaking, like the roses in a poet's fancy.'

'Well, that's better, go on.'

'A sly, mischievous, dimple, that, Parthian-like, kills and is fled.'

'You can guess flatteringly, I see.'

'Yes; and truly too. Nature would never mould a form like this, and leave her work imperfect; therefore there is but one face that can belong to it; and that face is--Miss Percy's.'