Miss Starke was one of those ladies who pass their lives in the direst of
all civil strife,--war with their servants. She looked upon the members
of that class as the unrelenting and sleepless enemies of the unfortunate
householders condemned to employ them. She thought they ate and drank to
their villanous utmost, in order to ruin their benefactors; that they
lived in one constant conspiracy with one another and the tradesmen, the
object of which was to cheat and pilfer. Miss Starke was a miserable
woman. As she had no relations or friends who cared enough for her to
share her solitary struggle against her domestic foes; and her income,
though easy, was an annuity that died with herself, thereby reducing
various nephews, nieces, or cousins to the strict bounds of a natural
affection,--that did not exist; and as she felt the want of some friendly
face amidst this world of distrust and hate,--so she had tried the
resource of venal companions. But the venal companions had never stayed
long, either they disliked Miss Starke, or Miss Starke disliked them.
Therefore the poor woman had resolved upon bringing up some little girl,
whose heart, as she said to herself, would be fresh and uncorrupted, and
from whom she might expect gratitude. She had been contented, on the
whole, with Helen, and had meant to keep that child in her house as long
as she (Miss Starke) remained upon the earth,--perhaps some thirty years
longer; and then, having carefully secluded her from marriage and other
friendship, to leave her nothing but the regret of having lost so kind a
benefactress. Conformably with this notion, and in order to secure the
affections of the child, Miss Starke had relaxed the frigid austerity
natural to her manner and mode of thought, and been kind to Helen in an
iron way. She had neither slapped nor pinched her, neither had she
starved. She had allowed her to see Leonard, according to the agreement
made with Dr. Morgan, and had laid out tenpence on cakes, besides
contributing fruit from her garden for the first interview,--a
hospitality she did not think it fit to renew on subsequent occasions.
In return for this, she conceived she had purchased the right to Helen
bodily and spiritually, and nothing could exceed her indignation when she
rose one morning and found the child had gone. As it never had occurred
to her to ask Leonard's address, though she suspected Helen had gone to
him, she was at a loss what to do, and remained for twenty-four hours in
a state of inane depression. But then she began to miss the child so
much that her energies woke, and she persuaded herself that she was
actuated by the purest benevolence in trying to reclaim this poor
creature from the world into which Helen had thus rashly plunged.
Accordingly she put an advertisement into the "Times," to the following
effect, liberally imitated from one by which in former years she had
recovered a favourite Blenheim:--
TWO GUINEAS' REWARD.
STRAYED, from Ivy Cottage, Highgate, a Little Girl,--answers to the
name of Helen; with blue eyes and brown hair; white muslin frock,
and straw hat with blue ribbons. Whoever will bring the same to Ivy
Cottage, shall receive the above Reward.
N. B.---Nothing more will be offered.
Now it so happened that Mrs. Smedley had put an advertisement in the
"Times" on her own account, relative to a niece of hers who was coming
from the country, and for whom she desired to find a situation. So,
contrary to her usual habit, she sent for the newspaper, and close by her
own advertisement, she saw Miss Starke's.
It was impossible that she could mistake the description of Helen; and as
this advertisement caught her eye the very day after the whole house had
been disturbed and scandalized by Burley's noisy visit, and on which she
had resolved to get rid of a lodger who received such visitors, the good-
hearted woman was delighted to think that she could restore Helen to some
safe home. While thus thinking, Helen herself entered the kitchen where
Mrs. Smedley sat, and the landlady had the imprudence to point out the
advertisement, and talk, as she called it, "seriously," to the little
girl.
Helen in vain and with tears entreated her to take no step in reply to
the advertisement. Mrs. Smedley felt that it was an affair of duty, and
was obdurate, and shortly afterwards put on her bonnet and left the
house. Helen conjectured that she was on her way to Miss Starke's, and
her whole soul was bent on flight. Leonard had gone to the office of the
"Beehive" with his manuscripts; but she packed up all their joint
effects, and just as she had done so, he returned. She communicated the
news of the advertisement, and said she should be so miserable if
compelled to go back to Miss Starke's, and implored him so pathetically
to save her from such sorrow, that he at once assented to her proposal of
flight. Luckily, little was owing to the landlady,--that little was left
with the maid-servant; and, profiting by Mrs. Smedley's absence, they
escaped without scene or conflict. Their effects were taken by Leonard
to a stand of hackney vehicles, and then left at a coach-office while
they went in search of lodgings. It was wise to choose an entirely new
and remote district; and before night they were settled in an attic in
Lambeth.