Ellis, for some minutes, hardly knew whether to be most provoked or
diverted by this singular visit. But all that approached to amusement
was short lived. The most distant apprehension that her probity could be
arraigned, was shocking; and she determined to dedicate the evening to
calculating all that she had either to pay or to receive; and sooner to
leave herself destitute of every means of support, but such as should
arise from day to day, than hazard incurring any suspicion injurious to
her integrity.
These estimates, which were easily drawn up, afforded her, at once, a
view of her ability to satisfy her creditors, and of the helpless
poverty in which she must then remain herself: her courage,
nevertheless, rose higher, from the conviction that her honour would be
cleared.
She was thus employed, when, late in the evening, Miss Arbe, full
dressed, and holding her watch in her hand, ran up stairs. 'I have but a
quarter of an hour,' she cried, 'to stay, so don't let us lose a moment.
I am just come from dining at Lady Kendover's, and I am going to an
assembly at the Sycamore's. But I thought I would just steal a few
minutes for our dear little lyre. You can give me your answer, you know,
as I am going down stairs. Come, quick, my dear Miss Ellis!--'Tis such a
delight to try our music together!'
'My answer, Madam?' cried Ellis, surprised: 'I had hoped for yours! and,
as you will, probably, meet all the ladies to whom you have had the
goodness to mention me, at Miss Sycamore's, I entreat--'
'I am so dreadfully hurried,' cried she, unrolling her music, 'that I
can't say a word of all that now. But we'll arrange it, and you can tell
me how you like our plan, you know, as I am putting up my music, and
going; but we can't possibly play the harp while I am drawing on my
gloves, and scampering down stairs.'
This logic, which she felt to be irrefutable, she uttered with the most
perfect self-complacency, while spreading her music, and placing herself
at the harp; but once there, she would neither say nor hear another
word; and it was equally in vain that Ellis desired an explanation of
the plan to which she alluded, or an answer to the petition which she
had written herself. Miss Arbe could listen to no sounds but those
produced by her own fingers; and could balance no interests, but those
upon which she was speculating, of the advantages which she should
herself reap from these continual, though unacknowledged lessons. And
Ellis found all her painful difficulties, how to extricate herself from
the distresses of penury, the horrour of creditors, and the fears of
want, treated but as minor considerations, when put in competition with
the importance of Miss Arbe's most trivial, and even stolen improvement.
She saw, however, no redress; displeasure was unnoticed, distaste was
unheeded; and she had no choice but to put aside every feeling, and give
her usual instructions; or to turn a professed protectress into a
dangerous and resentful enemy.
She sat down, therefore, to her business.
The quarter of an hour was scarcely passed, before Miss Arbe started up
to be gone; and, giving her music to Ellis to fold, while she drew on
her gloves, cried, 'Well, you can tell me, now, what I must say to Lady
Kendover. I hope you like my scheme?'
Ellis protested herself utterly ignorant what scheme she meant.
'Bless me,' she cried, 'did not my cousin tell you what I've been doing
for you? I've quite slaved in your service, I can assure you. I never
made such exertions in my life. Every body had agreed to give you up.
It's really shocking to see how people are governed by their prejudices!
But I brought them all round; for, after Lady Aurora's letter, they none
of them could tell what to resolve upon, till I gave them my advice.
That, indeed, is no unusual thing to happen to me. So few people know
what they had best do!'
This self-eulogium having elated her spirits, her haste to depart
sufficiently slackened, to give her time to make a farther demand,
whether her cousin had executed her commission.
Ellis knew not even that he had had any to execute.
'Well,' she cried, 'that old soul grows more provoking every day! I have
resolved a thousand times never to trust him again; only he is always at
hand, and that's so convenient, one does not know how to resist making
use of him. But he really torments me more than any thing existing. If
he had literally no sense, one should not be so angry; but, when it's
possible to make him listen, he understands what one says well enough:
and sometimes, which you will scarcely believe, he'll suddenly utter
something so keen and so neat, that you'd suppose him, all at once,
metamorphosed into a wit. But the fact is, he is so tiresomely absent,
that he never knows what he does, nor hears what one says. At breakfast,
he asks whether there is nothing more coming for dinner; at dinner, he
bids his servant get ready his night-cap and slippers, because he shall
eat no supper; if any body applies to him for a pinch of snuff, he
brings them an arm chair; if they ask him how he does, he fetches his
hat and cane, buttons his great coat up to his chin, and says he is
ready to attend them; if they enquire what it is o'clock, he thanks them
for their kindness, and runs over a list of all his aches and pains; and
the moment any body enters the room, the first word he commonly says to
them is Good-bye!'
Ellis earnestly begged to know what was meant by the letter of Lady
Aurora.
Miss Arbe again declared herself too much hurried to stay; and spent
more time in censuring Mr Giles, for not having spared her such a loss
of it, than would have been required for even a minute recital of the
business which he had forgotten. Ellis, however, at length learnt, that
Miss Arbe had had the address to hit upon a plan which conciliated all
interests, and to which she had prevailed upon Lady Kendover to consent.
'Her la'ship's name,' she continued, 'with my extensive influence, will
be quite enough to obtain that of every body else worth having at
Brighthelmstone. And she was vastly kind, indeed; for though she did it,
she said, with the extremest repugnance, which, to be sure, is natural
enough, not being able to imagine who or what she serves; yet, in
consideration of your being patronized by me, she would not refuse to
give you her countenance once more. Nothing in the world could be
kinder. You must go immediately to thank her.'
'Unhappily, Madam,' answered Ellis, colouring, 'I have too many
obligations of my own unrepaid, to have the presumption to suppose I can
assist in the acknowledgments of others: and this plan, whatever it may
be, has so evidently received the sanction of Lady Kendover solely to
oblige Miss Arbe, that it would be folly, if not impertinence, on my
part, to claim the honour of offering her ladyship my thanks.'
Miss Arbe, whose watch was always in her hand, when her harp was not,
had no time to mark this discrimination; she went on, therefore,
rapidly, with her communication. 'Lady Kendover,' she said, 'had
asserted, that if Miss Ellis had been celebrated in any public line of
life, there would be less difficulty about employing her; but as she had
only been seen or noticed in private families, it was necessary to be
much more particular as to her connexions and conduct; because, in that
case, she must, of course, be received upon a more friendly footing; and
with a consideration and confidence by no means necessary for a public
artist. If, therefore, all were not clear and satisfactory--'
Ellis, with mingled spirit and dignity, here interrupted her: 'Spare me,
Madam, this preamble, for both our sakes! for though the pain it causes
is only mine, the useless trouble,--pardon me!--will be yours. I do not
desire--I could not even consent to enter any house, where to receive me
would be deemed a disgrace.'
'O, but you have not heard my plan! You don't know how well it has all
been settled. The harp-professor now here, a proud, conceited old
coxcomb, full of the most abominable airs, but a divine performer, wants
to obtrude his daughter upon us, in your place; though she has got so
cracked a voice, that she gives one the head-ache by her squeaks. Well,
to make it his interest not to be your enemy, I have prevailed with Lady
Kendover to desire him to take you in for one of his band, either to
play or sing, at the great concert-room.'
Ellis, amazed, exclaimed, 'Can you mean, Madam,--can Lady Kendover
mean--to propose my performing in public?'
'Precisely that. 'Tis the only way in the world to settle the business,
and conquer all parties.'
'If so, Madam, they can never be conquered! for never, most certainly
never, can I perform in public!'
'And why not? You'll do vastly well, I dare say. Why should you be so
timid? 'Tis the best way to gain you admission into great houses; and if
your performance is applauded, you'll have as many scholars as you like;
and you may be as impertinent as you will. Your humility, now, won't
make you half so many friends, as a set of airs and graces, then, will
make you partizans.'
'I am much obliged to you for a recommendation so powerful, Madam,'
answered Ellis, dryly; 'but I must entreat you to pardon my inability to
avail myself of it; and my frank declaration, that my objections to this
plan are unsuperable.'
Miss Arbe only treated this as an ignorant diffidence, scarcely worth
even derision, till Ellis solemnly and positively repeated, that her
resolution not to appear in public would be unalterable: she then
became seriously offended, and, slightly wishing her good night, ran
down stairs; without making any other answer to her enquiry, concerning
the request in her note, than that she knew not what it meant, and could
not stay another moment.
Ellis, now, was deeply disturbed. Her first impulse was to write to Lady
Aurora, and implore her protection; but this wish was soon subdued by an
invincible repugnance, to drawing so young a person into any clandestine
correspondence.
Yet there was no one else to whom she could apply. Alas! she cried, how
wretched a situation!--And yet,--compared with what it might have
been!--Ah! let me dwell upon that contrast!--What, then, can make me
miserable?
With revived vigour from this reflection, she resolved to assume courage
to send in all her accounts, without waiting any longer for the
precarious assistance of Miss Arbe. But what was to follow? When all
difficulty should be over with respect to others, how was she to exist
herself?
Music, though by no means her only accomplishment, was the only one
which she dared flatter herself to possess with sufficient knowledge,
for the arduous attempt of teaching what she had learnt. Even in this,
she had been frequently embarrassed; all she knew upon the subject had
been acquired as a _diletante_, not studied as an artist; and though she
was an elegant and truly superiour performer, she was nearly as
deficient in the theoretical, as she was skilful in the practical part
of the science of which she undertook to give lessons.
Wide is the difference between exhibiting that which we have attained
only for that purpose, from the power of dispensing knowledge to others.
Where only what is chosen is produced; only what is practised is
performed; where one favourite piece, however laboriously acquired,
however exclusively finished, gains a character of excellence, that, for
the current day, and with the current throng, disputes the prize of
fame, even with the solid rights of professional candidates; the young
and nearly ignorant disciple, may seem upon a par with the experienced
and learned master. But to disseminate knowledge, by clearing that which
is obscure, and explaining that which is difficult; to make what is hard
appear easy, by giving facility to the execution of what is abstruse to
the conception; to lighten the fatigue of practice, by the address of
method; to shorten what requires study, by anticipating its result; and,
while demonstrating effects to expound their cause: by the rules of art,
to hide the want of science; and to supply the dearth of genius, by
divulging the secrets of embellishments;--these were labours that
demanded not alone brilliant talents, which she amply possessed, but a
fund of scientific knowledge, to which she formed no pretensions. Her
modesty, however, aided her good sense, in confining her attempts at
giving improvement within the limits of her ability; and rare indeed
must have been her ill fortune, had a pupil fallen to her lot,
sufficiently advanced to have surpassed her powers of instruction.
But this art, the favourite of her mind, and in which she had taste and
talents to excel, must be now relinquished: and Drawing, in which she
was also, though not equally, an adept, presented the same obstacles of
recommendation for obtaining scholars, as music. Her theatrical
abilities, though of the first cast, were useless; since from whatever
demanded public representation, her mind revolted: and her original wish
of procuring herself a safe and retired asylum, by becoming a governess
to some young lady, was now more than ever remote from all chance of
being gratified.
How few, she cried, how circumscribed, are the attainments of women! and
how much fewer and more circumscribed still, are those which may, in
their consequences, be useful as well as ornamental, to the higher, or
educated class! those through which, in the reverses of fortune, a
FEMALE may reap benefit without abasement! those which, while preserving
her from pecuniary distress, will not aggravate the hardships or sorrows
of her changed condition, either by immediate humiliation, or by what,
eventually, her connexions may consider as disgrace!
Thus situated, she could have recourse only to the dull, monotonous, and
cheerless plan, from which Miss Arbe had turned her aside; that of
offering her services to Miss Matson as a needle-woman.
Her first step, upon this resolution, was to send back the harp to the
music-shop. Since no further hope remained of recovering her scholars,
she would not pay her court to Miss Arbe at the expence of Miss Bydel.
She next dispatched her small accounts to Lady Kendover, Lady Arramede,
Miss Sycamore, Miss Brinville, the Miss Crawleys, and Miss Tedman; but,
notwithstanding her poverty, she desired to be allowed to have
instructed Selina simply from motives of gratitude.
To give up her large apartment, was her next determination; and she
desired to speak with Miss Matson, to whom she made known her
intention; soliciting, at the same time, some employment in needle-work.
This was a measure not more essential than disagreeable. 'Mercy, Ma'am!'
Miss Matson cried, seating herself upon the sofa: 'I hope, at least, you
won't leave my first floor before you pay me for it? And as to
work,--what is the premium you mean to propose to me?'
Ellis answered that she could propose none: she desired only to receive
and to return her work from day to day.
Looking at her, now, with an air extremely contemptuous, Miss Matson
replied, that that was by no means her way; that all her young ladies
came to her with handsome premiums; and that she had already eight or
nine upon her list, more than she was able to admit into her shop.
Ellis, affrighted at the prospect before her, earnestly enquired whether
Miss Matson would have the kindness to aid her in an application
elsewhere, for some plain work.
'That, Ma'am, is one of the things the most difficult in the world to
obtain. Such loads of young women are out of employ, that one's quite
teized for recommendations. Besides which, your being known to have run
up so many debts in the town,--you'll excuse me, Ma'am,--makes it not
above half reputable to venture staking one's credit--after all those
droll things that Mr Riley, you know, Ma'am, said to Miss Bydel.--'
Ellis could bear no more: she promised to hasten her payment; and begged
to be left alone.