Such were the facts circumstantially communicated by Sarah. They
afforded to Constantia a theme of ardent meditation. The similitude
between her own destiny and that of this unhappy exile could not fail to
be observed. Immersed in poverty, friendless, burdened with the
maintenance and nurture of her father, their circumstances were nearly
parallel. The catastrophe of her tale was the subject of endless but
unsatisfactory conjecture.
She had disappeared between the flight of Baxter and the dawn of day.
What path had she taken? Was she now alive? Was she still an inhabitant
of this city? Perhaps there was a coincidence of taste as well as
fortunes between them. The only friend that Constantia ever enjoyed,
congenial with her in principles, sex, and age, was at a distance that
forbade communication. She imagined that Ursula Monrose would prove
worthy of her love, and felt unspeakable regret at the improbability of
their ever meeting.
Meanwhile the dominion of cold began to be felt, and the contagious
fever entirely disappeared. The return of health was hailed with rapture
by all ranks of people. The streets were once more busy and frequented.
The sensation of present security seemed to shut out from all hearts the
memory of recent disasters. Public entertainments were thronged with
auditors. A new theatre had lately been constructed, and a company of
English Comedians had arrived during the prevalence of the malady. They
now began their exhibitions, and their audiences were overflowing.
Such is the motley and ambiguous condition of human society, such is the
complexity of all effects, from what cause soever they spring, that none
can tell whether this destructive pestilence was on, the whole,
productive of most pain or most pleasure. Those who had been sick and
had recovered found in this circumstance a source of exultation. Others
made haste by new marriages to supply the place of wives, husbands, and
children, whom the scarcely-extinguished pestilence had swept away.
Constantia, however, was permitted to take no share in the general
festivity. Such was the colour of her fate, that the yellow fever, by
affording her a respite from toil, supplying leisure for the acquisition
of a useful branch of knowledge, and leading her to the discovery of a
cheaper, more simple, and more wholesome method of subsistence, had been
friendly, instead of adverse to her happiness. Its disappearance,
instead of relieving her from suffering, was the signal for the approach
of new cares.
Of her ancient customers, some were dead, and others were slow in
resuming their ancient habitations, and their ordinary habits.
Meanwhile two wants were now created and were urgent. The season
demanded a supply of fuel, and her rent had accumulated beyond her power
to discharge. M'Crea no sooner returned from the country than he applied
to her for payment. Some proprietors, guided by humanity, had remitted
their dues, but M'Crea was not one of these. According to his own
representation, no man was poorer than himself, and the punctual payment
of all that was owing to him was no more than sufficient to afford him a
scanty subsistence.
He was aware of the indigence of the Dudleys, and was therefore
extremely importunate for payment, and could scarcely be prevailed upon
to allow them the interval of a day for the discovery of expedients.
This day was passed by Constantia in fruitless anxieties. The ensuing
evening had been fixed for a repetition of his visit. The hour arrived,
but her invention was exhausted in vain. M'Crea was punctual to the
minute. Constantia was allowed no option. She merely declared that the
money demanded she had not to give, nor could she foresee any period at
which her inability would be less than it then was.
These declarations were heard by her visitant with marks of unspeakable
vexation. He did not fail to expatiate on the equity of his demands, the
moderation and forbearance he had hitherto shown, notwithstanding the
extreme urgency of his own wants, and the inflexible rigour with which
he had been treated by _his_ creditors. This rhetoric was merely the
prelude to an intimation that he must avail himself of any lawful means,
by which he might gain possession of _his own_.
This insinuation was fully comprehended by Constantia, but it was heard
without any new emotions. Her knowledge of her landlord's character
taught her to expect but one consequence. He paused to observe what
effect would be produced by this indirect menace. She answered, without
any change of tone, that the loss of habitation and furniture, however
inconvenient at this season, must be patiently endured. If it were to be
prevented only by the payment of money, its prevention was impossible.
M'Crea renewed his regrets that there should be no other alternative.
The law sanctioned his claims, and justice to his family, which was
already large, and likely to increase, required that they should not be
relinquished; yet such was the mildness of his temper and his aversion
to proceed to this extremity, that he was willing to dispense with
immediate payment on two conditions. First, that they should leave his
house within a week, and secondly, that they should put into his hands
some trinket or movable, equal in value to the sum demanded, which
should be kept by him as a pledge.
This last hint suggested an expedient for obviating the present
distress. The lute with which Mr. Dudley was accustomed to solace his
solitude was, if possible, more essential to his happiness than shelter
or food. To his daughter it possessed little direct power to please. It
was inestimable merely for her father's sake. Its intrinsic value was at
least equal to the sum due, but to part with it was to bereave him of a
good which nothing else could supply. Besides, not being a popular and
saleable instrument, it would probably be contemptuously rejected by the
ignorance and avarice of M'Crea.
There was another article in her possession of some value in traffic,
and of a kind which M'Crea was far more likely to accept. It was the
miniature portrait of her friend, executed by a German artist, and set
in gold. This image was a precious though imperfect substitute for
sympathy and intercourse with the original. Habit had made this picture
a source of a species of idolatry. Its power over her sensations was
similar to that possessed by a beautiful Madonna over the heart of a
juvenile enthusiast. It was the mother of the only devotion which her
education had taught her to consider as beneficial or true.
She perceived the necessity of parting with it, on this occasion, with
the utmost clearness, but this necessity was thought upon with
indescribable repugnance. It seemed as if she had not thoroughly
conceived the extent of her calamity till now. It seemed as if she could
have endured the loss of eyes with less reluctance than the loss of this
inestimable relic. Bitter were the tears which she shed over it as she
took it from her bosom, and consigned it to those rapacious hands that
were stretched out to receive it. She derived some little consolation
from the promises of this man, that he would keep it safely till she was
able to redeem it.
The other condition--that of immediate removal from the house--seemed at
first sight impracticable. Some reflection, however, showed her that the
change might not only be possible but useful. Among other expedients for
diminishing expense, that of limiting her furniture and dwelling to the
cheapest standard had often occurred. She now remembered that the house
occupied by Monrose was tenantless; that its antiquity, its remote and
unpleasant situation, and its small dimensions, might induce M'Crea, to
whom it belonged, to let it at a much lower price than that which he now
exacted. M'Crea would have been better pleased if her choice had fallen
on a different house; but he had powerful though sordid reasons for
desiring the possession of this tenement. He assented therefore to her
proposal, provided her removal took place without delay.
In the present state of her funds this removal was impossible. Mere
shelter would not suffice during this inclement season. Without fuel,
neither cold could be excluded, nor hunger relieved. There was nothing
convertible into money but her lute. No sacrifice was more painful, but
an irresistible necessity demanded it.
Her interview with M'Crea took place while her father was absent from
the room. On his return she related what had happened, and urged the
necessity of parting with his favourite instrument. He listened to her
tale with a sigh. "Yes," said he, "do what thou wilt, my child. It is
unlikely that any one will purchase it. It is certain that no one will
give for it what I gave; but thou may'st try.
"It has been to me a faithful friend. I know not how I should have lived
without it. Its notes have cheered me with the sweet remembrances of old
times. It was, in some degree, a substitute for the eyes which I have
lost; but now let it go, and perform for me perhaps the dearest of its
services. It may help us to sustain the severities of this season."
There was no room for delay. She immediately set out in search of a
purchaser. Such a one was most likely to be found in the keeper of a
musical repository, who had lately arrived from Europe. She entertained
but slight hopes that an instrument scarcely known among her neighbours
would be bought at any price, however inconsiderable.
She found the keeper of the shop engaged in conversation with a lady,
whose person and face instantly arrested the attention of Constantia. A
less sagacious observer would have eyed the stranger with indifference.
But Constantia was ever busy in interpreting the language of features
and looks. Her sphere of observation had been narrow, but her habits of
examining, comparing, and deducing, had thoroughly exhausted that
sphere. These habits were eminently strong with relation to this class
of objects. She delighted to investigate the human countenance, and
treasured up numberless conclusions as to the coincidence between mental
and external qualities.
She had often been forcibly struck by forms that were accidentally seen,
and which abounded with this species of mute expression. They conveyed
at a single glance what could not be imparted by volumes. The features
and shape sunk, as it were, into perfect harmony with sentiments and
passions. Every atom of the frame was pregnant with significance. In
some, nothing was remarkable but this power of the outward figure to
exhibit the internal sentiments. In others, the intelligence thus
unveiled was remarkable for its heterogeneous or energetic qualities;
for its tendency to fill her heart with veneration or abhorrence, or to
involve her in endless perplexities.
The accuracy and vividness with which pictures of this kind presented
themselves to her imagination resembled the operations of a sixth sense.
It cannot be doubted, however, that much was owing to the enthusiastic
tenor of her own conceptions, and that her conviction of the truth of
the picture principally flowed from the distinctness and strength of its
hues.
The figure which she now examined was small, but of exquisite
proportions. Her complexion testified the influence of a torrid sun; but
the darkness veiled, without obscuring, the glowing tints of her cheek.
The shade was remarkably deep; but a deeper still was required to become
incompatible with beauty. Her features were irregular, but defects of
symmetry were amply supplied by eyes that anticipated speech and
positions which conveyed that to which language was inadequate.
It was not the chief tendency of her appearance to seduce or to melt.
Hers were the polished cheek and the mutability of muscle, which belong
to woman, but the genius conspicuous in her aspect was heroic and
contemplative. The female was absorbed, so to speak, in the rational
creature, and the emotions most apt to be excited in the gazer partook
less of love than of reverence.
Such is the portrait of this stranger, delineated by Constantia. I copy
it with greater willingness, because, if we substitute a nobler stature,
and a complexion less uniform and delicate, it is suited with the utmost
accuracy to herself. She was probably unconscious of this resemblance;
but this circumstance may be supposed to influence her in discovering
such attractive properties in a form thus vaguely seen. These
impressions, permanent and cogent as they were, were gained at a single
glance. The purpose which led her thither was too momentous to be long
excluded.
"Why," said the master of the shop, "this is lucky. Here is a lady who
has just been inquiring for an instrument of this kind. Perhaps the one
you have will suit her. If you will bring it to me, I will examine it,
and, if it is complete, will make a bargain with you." He then turned to
the lady who had first entered, and a short dialogue in French ensued
between them. The man repeated his assurances to Constantia, who,
promising to hasten back with the instrument, took her leave. The lute,
in its structure and ornaments, has rarely been surpassed. When
scrutinised by this artist it proved to be complete, and the price
demanded for it was readily given.
By this means the Dudleys were enabled to change their habitation, and
to supply themselves with fuel. To obviate future exigences, Constantia
betook herself once more to the needle. They persisted in the use of
their simple fare, and endeavoured to contract their wants, and
methodize their occupations, by a standard as rigid as possible. She
had not relinquished her design of adopting a new and more liberal
profession, but though, when indistinctly and generally considered, it
seemed easily effected, yet the first steps which it would be proper to
take did not clearly or readily suggest themselves. For the present she
was contented to pursue the beaten track, but was prepared to benefit by
any occasion that time might furnish, suitable to the execution of her
plan.