_The Old Angel._
I do not much like to look back on that Time:--I was under a Cloud; a
very dark one; and saw, heard, and felt Everything under its Shadow. I
did not seem to love _Prue_ much, nor to believe she loved me; I took
Pleasure in Nothing, and did Nothing well.
I wonder, now, how I could have been so silly. I am very glad People
could not see into my Heart, nor guess what was passing in my tossed
and fretted Mind. Oh! if our Neighbours sometimes lay to our Charge
Things that we know not, how often might they lay to our Charge Things
that they know not! They think us on good and pleasant Terms with them,
maybe, when we are full of Envy, Jealousy, and Suspicion. They utter
the careless Word and laugh the cheerful Laugh, little guessing that
their lightest Look, Word and Tone are being weighed in a Balance.
I suppose my troubled Mind tinctured a Letter I wrote, at about this
Time, to _Gatty_; for in her Reply to it, which followed very quickly,
she said:
"I think I can see by your Writing that you are not well, nor in good
Spirits. How earnestly do I wish, dear Mrs. _Patty_, you would come
down to us here, and try the effect of a little Change. Yours is a
very toilsome, anxious Life, though you carry it off so well; always
afoot, always thinking of others! But this may be overdone, and I
think you have overdone it now; so come down, pray, before you get any
worse. You know your Way to the _Old Angel_, dear _Patty_! and though
the Days are so very short now and the Weather cold, the Roads are in
fine Order and you shall have a warm Fireside. My _Mother_ will be
more joyed to see you than I can express, and so will my _Brothers_
and _Sisters_, and I need not say how acceptable your Company will
be to me! My Month's Holiday is up, and I have writ to Lady _Betty_;
but she returns no Answer, and perhaps considers me no longer her
Servant. I cannot say I shall fret much if it prove so; but the Fact
must shortly be ascertained; as in that Case I must seek another
Service. How I should like to go to that reverend, comfortable old
Mrs. _Arbuthnot_! Perhaps, when I send her Aprons, I might write a
respectful Line, saying I am in want of a Situation. Hers would be a
vastly different Service, I fancy, from my Lady _Betty's_. And yet, do
you know, that strange _Sister_ of mine, _Pen_, is certain she should
like to live with my _Lady_! Dear Mrs. _Patty_, I must abruptly
conclude, as we are preparing to spend the Evening at _Roaring House_.
It is a good Step, and there will be no Moon, but we shall do well
with Lantern and Pattens, and are not fear'd at _Hob-Goblin_.
"I depend on your coming, so name the Day; and wrap up very warm, or
else come inside the Coach. Tell the Coachman to set you down at the
Mile-Stone, just before he reaches the _Green Hatch_; and we will be
there to meet you. There have been no Highway Robberies these three
Weeks, and only one Overturn, so don't be afraid."
"Your Affectionate,
"GERTRUDE BOWERBANK."
"_Roaring House_," slowly repeated my _Father_, knocking the Ashes out
of his Pipe, when I had read him the greater Part of this Letter. "It
must be a very queer Place, I think, that has such a queer Name.... A
roaring House!--hang it if I should like to live in it!--A House that
roars, or that has been accustomed to roar, very likely in the old Days
of the roaring Cavaliers!--A monstrous queer Name indeed!--Aye, aye,
many a Hogshead of strong Ale has been swilled in its great, rambling
Kitchen by roaring Boys, I warrant ye--A great, rambling, scrambling,
shambling House, with Doors and Casements loose on their Hinges, that
creak in the Wind, and with loose Tiles on the great gabled Roofs, and
Swallows' Nests in the great, windy Chimneys, and creaking Boards in
the uneven Floors and rotten old Staircases, and dark Corners, and dark
Cup-Boards, and windy Key-Holes and winding Passages. That's my Notion
of _Roaring House_."
"Is that where _Gatty_ lives?" said _Prudence_ heedlessly.
"No, where she was going to drink Tea; with Lantern and Pattens," said
my _Father_--"Didn't you hear _Patty_ read? Ha! Time was, I wouldn't
have minded being her Foot-Boy."
"But, _Patty_," said my dear _Mother_ anxiously, "she does not think
you are well, Love. Do you wish to go to _Larkfield_?"
"Why, certainly, _Mother_, it would be a great Treat; only I don't see
how I could well be spared."
"Oh, we can spare you well enough," cries _Prudence_; "you won't be
missed!"
"Thank you," said I abruptly; and thought I would not go.
"We will manage to spare you very well, my dear Love," said my dear
_Mother_--"We will contrive so that you shall not be missed."
Just the same Thing, only said how differently! I thought I _would_ go.
A kind Word spoken in Season, oh! how good is it!
In short, I decided to go, for I felt I wanted a Change; and I was
hourly in dread of saying in my present irritable State, something to
_Prudence_ which I should afterwards be bitterly sorry for. I saw she
wanted me to go; I knew she _could_, if she _would_, supply my Place
for a little While; and I hoped after a short Absence to return with a
new Set of Ideas, and find all Things straight.
So I wrote to _Gatty_, to name my Day, and began to pack up. When
Mr. _Fenwick_ heard I was going, he looked very much surprised; but
said Nothing. I was glad of the one and the other. I liked his being
surprised, and I liked his making no common-place Speeches. In the mean
Time, he had, I knew, addressed a Letter to Mr. _Caryl_; and I found,
rather unexpectedly, he had got an Answer;--in this Way.
I had carried up his Chocolate, and found him with his Elbow on the
Mantel-Piece, and his Thumb and Fore-Finger pinching his Chin very
hard, while he frowned anxiously over a Billet he was reading.
"This is very strange,--very provoking!" cried he, looking round to me
for Sympathy--"I don't know why I should trouble you to hear about it,
Mrs. _Patty_, but I am vexed!"
"I should like to hear about it if you please, Sir," said I quietly.
"Why,--the Matter is this. I sent Something I had been
writing,--Something I had taken a good deal of Pains with,--to Mr.
_Paul Caryl_. He seemed a good deal pleased with it, took it up quite
warmly, promised to put it in Train for me and give it his Patronage.
A long Interval has ensued, without Anything coming of it; at length I
venture to write him a gentle Reminder; and he, with a hundred thousand
Protestations and Apologies, writes to say that 'how to excuse himself
he knows not, but the plain Fact is, a Spark falling on my Manuscript,
has utterly consumed it.'"
"I don't believe it!" cried I with sudden Passion, "I don't believe one
Word of it!"
"Why, it's hard to believe--" begins Mr. _Fenwick_ with an aggrieved
Air.
"It's not to be believed!" interrupted I vehemently; "it's a Falsehood,
if ever one was told! A trumped up, vamped up Story!"
"Hush, Mrs. _Patty_--"
"No, Sir, I can't hush, I know it's as I say: I'm sure of it! Oh, the
Meanness!--"
"My dear _Patty_!--"
"It's abominable, Sir! _He_, call himself a _Gentleman_?"
"My dear _Patty_, you quite astound me by the Vehemence of your
Sympathy. I can't tell you how gratefully I feel it. But your undue
Warmth makes me see my own in its proper Light--I was feeling this
Matter too much. It is mortifying enough, I must own, but I dare say
what he tells me is true...."
"Not a Word!"
"And whether true or not, the Loss to _me_ is the same--I shall never
see my Manuscript again--"
"If I were the _King_ or the _Lord Mayor_, you should!--"
"Pooh, pooh! what, when it's _burnt_?"
"Burnt or unburnt; or he should go to _Newgate_; that he should!"
"No, no, _Patty_; Kings and Lord Mayors don't send Poets to _Newgate_,
for being careless of other Poets' Papers. You make me laugh at my own
Annoyance, you caricature it so! I have quite cleared up, now--I shall
not think of it again; unless with a Smile. But I heartily thank you
for your warm Sympathy, dear _Patty_!"
"Ah, Sir!--"
"Yes, _Patty_, for your acceptable, your _salutary_ Sympathy."
And he cordially pressed my Hand. I withdrew it, and slipped away; but
with a Feeling of Consolation and Complacence to which my lone Heart
had of late been a Stranger. I wiped away a Tear, and went to pack my
Box.
"In a brotherly sort of Way," thought I; "he regards me kindly. Nothing
more."
Oh! what awful Work it is, when Sisters are jealous of one another!
The nearer the Heart, the greater the Smart. The closer the Kin, the
greater the Sin. My Heart was in that State, that the least Injury,
real or supposed, made me ready to cry out; and yet I must look out
jealously for new Injuries, as if I had not enough already. As for
_Prue_, she was in a most unpleasant Humour, snappish and reckless, or
merry and unfeeling: laughing twice as much as there was Need, at the
merest Trifle; or requiring to be spoke to twice before she heard or
made Answer. There was no Confidence between us now; and if she had
made any Approach to it, I should have started away from it. I was glad
when she was going about, Sightseeing, with _Tom_; for, as she truly
said, she was so soon to have all the Work to do, that she might as
well take her Pleasure while she could: only it was not spoken kindly.
As for _Tom_, he had been Home and back again: he had taken down his
Monkey to his Mother, but had soon got tired, I fancy, of country
Quiet, (which, he said, was as dull as a Roari-torio,) so made an
Excuse to run up to Town again on some sea-faring Business. However, he
had only left Home for a few Days, and meant to return to it as soon
as he had squired me to the _Old Angel_; though I told him I had not
the least Need of his Protection, and wanted Nobody but _Peter_ to go
with me. He would not have it so; but got up some Hours before Light,
brisk as a Lark, to see me off, like a good-tempered Fellow as he was.
He talked all Sorts of Rhodomontade by the Way, that amused me in spite
of myself; and, just as we got to the Inn-yard, asked me how often I
thought he had been in Love.
"Never once," said I.
"Then, there you're quite out," said he, "for I've been in Love four
Times." Here a Man ran against him with a _Box_. "You might have put
out my Eye," says _Tom_ to him; "however, as you didn't, it's no
Matter." Here we got to the Booking-office, and waited there while the
dirty old Coach was being washed.
"Four Times," repeated _Tom_, returning to his Subject, "and I'll tell
you who with."
"Oh no," said I, "pray spare me!"
"You don't guess the Name of the last, then," says he with a roguish
Air.
"_Patty Honeywood_," doubtless, said I.
"You're not so far out, then," says he, bursting out laughing.
"Hush, _Tom_! People will hear you...."
"Well, and what if they do?"
"Why, I shan't put much Faith in your Passion, if you talk and laugh so
openly about it."
"Ah," says he, "perhaps I may feel as much as Fellows that are more
affected."
Here we got shoved about a good deal by People coming into the Office.
At length, the Horn began to blow and the Bell to clang over our Heads.
_Tom_ put me inside the Coach, within which was as yet only an old Lady
in a red Cardinal. Then he stood on the Step, and kept talking to me
through the Window. "Yes," says he, "the Letters P. H. are indelibly
tattooed on me. Why won't you give a Fellow a little Encouragement to
live upon while you're away?" Here he screwed up his Face into a very
mysterious Expression, as much as to say, "The old Gentlewoman can't
understand me," and the next Moment was showing his good white Teeth
from Ear to Ear in a broad Smile.
"They've slued up your Box now," says he, "and are getting under weigh.
There's a blue _Peter_ to the Fore."
"What's that?" said I.
"Why, the _Admiral's_ Flag clapped to the Foremast, for sailing Orders.
What I mean now, is, that your Man _Peter_, looking Blue with Cold, is
standing at the Fore Horse's Head, and staring, as well he may, at the
Postilion. Well, you won't carry much Ballast this Time. There are some
Barrels of Oysters in the Hold, going down to Country Cousins that have
sent up Geese and Turkeys."
"Dear me! I wish I had thought of a Barrel of Oysters," said I.
"Too late now!" said _Tom_. "But yet, if you wish it, I'll make a Rush
for them, and come up with you along the Road. You won't make more than
three Knots an Hour. Shall I?"
"Oh no, thank you. It's too late now."
"Better late than never. And apply that to me on the Present Occasion.
Come, accept me! Arn't I a very good Boy, for a Sailor? You've never
seen me smoke, nor drink, nor fight, nor get my Pockets picked, nor use
any uncomfortable Expressions. Oh no, I can't bear to put People to the
least Inconvenience. Here I am, going, going, going,--say gone!"
"Gone!" said I; and he was off the next Moment.
"A light-hearted young Sailor," says the old Gentlewoman smiling, "I
shouldn't think many young Ladies would say 'No' to the Offer he made
you."
The Jumbling of the Coach over the rough Stones precluded the Need
of an Answer. For some Time we journeyed in the Dark; when Daylight
came, I was able to amuse myself with passing Objects; and though the
Cold was severe, I liked Travelling very well. We stopped to dine at
Twelve o'Clock; there was a great, raw Leg of boiled Mutton, which the
old Lady said was bad Meat badly killed and badly cooked. She said,
however, that Travelling was improved since her young Days, when the
Coach was three Days going from _London_ to _Exeter_, and halted to
observe the Sabbath on the Road. We safely reached the appointed Spot
just before Dark, where _Gatty_, all Smiles and Cordiality,--and a
healthy, honest-looking Boy, her Brother, were awaiting me. My Luggage
was so light, we carried it between us, laughing and talking as we
trudged along to _Gatty's_ Home; which I found what she called "a good
Step."
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