"Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears,
And a false vigor in her eyes appears."--DRYDEN.
She alighted from the carriage when it stopped at the door, and entered
the shop, where, to her inexpressible satisfaction, the first object she
beheld was Miss Rushbrook, sitting pensively at one of the counters. The
moment she saw Amanda she recollected her, and, starting up, exclaimed,
as she took her hand, "Ah! dear madam, this is indeed a joyful surprise!
Ah! how often have I wished to meet you again to express my gratitude."
The affectionate reception she met, and the unexpected sight of Miss
Rushbrook, seemed to promise Amanda that her wishes relative to
Rushbrook would not only be accelerated, but crowned with success. She
returned the fervent pressure of Miss Rushbrook's hand, and inquired
after her parents--the inquiry appeared distressing, and she was
answered, with hesitation, that they were indifferent. The evident
embarrassment her question excited prevented her renewing it at this
time. The mistress of the house was not present, and Amanda requested,
if she was within, she might see her directly. Miss Rushbrook
immediately stepped to a parlor behind the shop, and almost instantly
returned, followed by the lady herself, who was a little fat Irish
woman, past her prime, but not past her relish for the good things of
this life. "Dear madam," said she, curtseying to Amanda, "you are very
welcome. I protest I am very glad to see you, though I never had that
pleasure but once before; but it is no wonder I should be so, for I have
heard your praises every day since, I am sure, from that young lady,"
looking at Miss Rushbrook. Amanda bowed, but her heart was too full of
the purpose of this visit to allow her to speak about anything else. She
was just come from the country, she told Mrs. Connel, where (she sighed
as she spoke) she had left her friends, and, being unwilling to go
amongst total strangers, she had come to her house in hopes of being
able to procure lodgings in it.
"Dear ma'am," said Mrs. Connel, "I protest I should have been happy to
have accommodated you, but at present my house is quite full."
The disappointment this speech gave Amanda rendered her silent for a
moment, and she was then going to ask Mrs. Connel if she could recommend
her to a lodging, when she perceived Miss Rushbrook whispering her.
"Why, madam," cried the former, who, by a nod of her head, seemed to
approve of what the latter had been saying, "since you dislike so much
going among strangers, which, indeed, shows your prudence, considering
what queer kind of people are in the world, Miss Emily says, that if you
condescend to accept of part of her little bed, till you can settle
yourself more comfortably in town, you shall be extremely welcome to it;
and I can assure you, madam, I shall do everything in my power to render
my house agreeable to you." "Oh, most joyfully, most thankfully, do I
accept the offer," said Amanda, whose heart had sunk at the idea of
going amongst strangers. "Any place," she continued, speaking in the
fulness of that agitated heart, "beneath so reputable a roof, would be
an asylum of comfort I should prefer to a palace, if utterly
unacquainted with the people who inhabited it." Her trunk was now
brought in, and the carriage discharged. "I suppose, ma'am," said Mrs.
Connel, looking at the trunk on which her assumed name was marked, "you
are Scotch by your name, though, indeed, you have not much of the accent
about you." "I declare," cried Emily, also looking at it, "till this
moment I was ignorant of your name."
Amanda was pleased to hear this, and resolved not to disclose her real
one, except convinced Rushbrook would interest himself in her affairs.
She was conducted into the parlor, which was neatly furnished, and
opened into the shop by a glass door. Mrs. Connel stirred a declining
fire into a cheerful blaze, and desired to know if Amanda would choose
anything for dinner. "Speak the word only, my dear," said she, "and I
think I can procure you a cold bone in the house. If you had come two
hours sooner, I could have given you a bit of nice veal for your
dinner." Amanda assured her she did not wish to take anything till
tea-time.
"Well, well," cried Mrs. Connel, "you shall have a snug cup of tea by
and by, and a hot muffin with it. I am very fond of tea myself, though
poor Mr. Connel, who is dead and gone, used often and often to say, 'I
that was so nervous should never touch tea;' 'but, Biddy,' he would
say, and he would laugh so, poor clear man, 'you and all your sex are
like your mother Eve, unable to resist temptation.'"
Emily retired soon after Amanda entered; but returned in a few minutes
with her hat and cloak on, and said, nothing but a visit she must pay
her parents should have induced her to forego, for the first evening, at
least, the pleasure of Miss Donald's society. Amanda thanked her for her
politeness, but assured her if considered as a restraint she should be
unhappy.
"I assure you," said Mrs. Connel, as Emily departed, "she is very fond
of you." "I am happy to hear it," replied Amanda, "for I think her a
most amiable girl." "Indeed she is," cried the other; "all the fault I
find with her is being too grave for her time of life. Poor thing, one
cannot wonder at that, however, considering the situation of her
parents." "I hope," interrupted Amanda, "it is not so bad as it was."
"Bad! Lord! it cannot be worse; the poor captain has been in jail above
a year." "I am sorry," said Amanda, "to hear this. Has any application
been made to Lady Greystock since his confinement?" "To Lady Greystock!
why, Lord! one might as well apply to one of the wild beasts in the
Tower! Ah! poor gentleman, if he was never to get nothing but what she
gave him, I believe he would not long be a trouble to any one. It is now
about fourteen years since my acquaintance with him first commenced. My
poor husband, that is no more, and I kept a shop in Dublin, where the
captain's regiment was quartered, and he being only a lieutenant had not
room enough for his family in the barracks, so he took lodgings at our
house, where Mrs. Rushbrook lay in, and I being with her now and then
during her confinement, a kind of friendship grew up amongst us. They
had not left us long to go to America, when a relation of my husband,
who owned this house and shop, having lost his wife, and being lonesome,
without either chick or child, invited us to come and live with him,
promising us if we did, to settle us in his business, and leave us
everything he had. Well, such offers do not come every day; so, to be
sure, we took him at his word; and here we had not long been when the
poor man bid adieu to all mortal care, and was soon followed by Mr.
Connel. Well, to be sure, I was sad and solitary enough; but when I
thought how irreligious it was to break one's heart with grief, I
plucked up my spirits and began to hold up my head again. So, to make a
short story of a long one, about six years ago Mrs. Rushbrook and Miss
Emily came one day into the shop to buy something, little thinking they
should see an old friend. It was, to be sure, a meeting of joy and
sorrow, as one may say. We told all our griefs to each other, and I
found things were very bad with the poor captain. Indeed I have a great
regard for him and his family, and when he was confined, I took Emily
home as an assistant in my business. The money she earned was to go to
her parents, and I agreed to give her her clothes gratis; but that would
have gone but a little way in feeding so many mouths, had I not procured
plain work for Mrs. Rushbrook and her daughters. Emily is a very good
girl, indeed, and it is to see her parents she is now gone. But while I
am gabbling away I am sure the kettle is boiling." So saying, she
started up, and ringing the bell, took the tea-things from a beaufet
where they were kept. The maid having obeyed the well-known summons,
then retired; and as soon as the tea was made, and the muffins buttered,
Mrs. Connel made Amanda draw her chair close to the table, that she
might, as she said, look snug, and drink her tea comfortably.
"I assure you, madam," cried she, "it was a lucky hour for Miss Emily
when she entered my house." "I have no doubt of that," said Amanda. "You
must know, madam," proceeded Mrs. Connel, "about a month ago a gentleman
came to lodge with me, who I soon found was making speeches to Miss
Emily. He was one of those wild looking sparks, who, like Ranger in the
play, looked as if they would be popping through every one's doors and
windows, and playing such tricks as made poor Mr. Strickland so jealous
of his wife. Well, I took my gentleman to task one day unawares. 'So,
Mr. Sipthorpe,' says I, 'I am told you have cast a sheep's eye upon one
of my girls; but I must tell you she is a girl of virtue and family, so
if you do not mean to deal honorably with her, you must either decamp
from this, or speak to her no more.' Upon this he made me a speech as
long as a member of parliament's upon a new tax. 'Lord, Mr. Sipthorpe,'
said I, 'there is no occasion for all this oratory, a few words will
settle the business between us.' Well, this was coming close to the
point, you will say, and he told me then he always meant to deal
honorably by Miss Emily, and told me all about his circumstances; and I
found he had a fine fortune, which indeed I partly guessed before from
the appearance he made, and he said he would not only marry Miss Emily,
but take her parents out of prison, and provide for the whole family.
Well, now comes the provoking part of the story. A young clergyman had
been kind at the beginning of their distress to them, and he and Miss
Emily took it into their heads to fall in love with each other. Well,
her parents gave their consent to their being married, which to be sure
I thought a very foolish thing, knowing the young man's inability to
serve them. To be sure he promised fair enough; but, Lord! what could a
poor curate do for them, particularly when he got a wife and a house
full of children of his own? I thought; so I supposed they would be
quite glad to be off with him, and to give her to Mr. Sipthorpe; but no
such thing I assure you. When I mentioned it to them, one talked of
honor, and another of gratitude, and as to Miss Emily, she fairly went
into fits. Well, I thought I would serve them in spite of themselves,
so, knowing the curate to be a romantic young follow, I writes off to
him, and tells him what a cruel thing it would be, if, for his own
gratification, he kept Miss Emily to her word, and made her lose a match
which would free her family from all their difficulties; and, in short,
I touched upon his passion not a little, I assure you, and, as I hoped,
a letter came from him, in which he told her he gave her up. Well, to be
sure there was sad work when it came--with her, I mean, for the captain
and his wife were glad enough of it, I believe, in their hearts; so at
last everything was settled for her marriage with Mr. Sipthorpe, and he
made a number of handsome presents to her, I assure you, and they are to
be married in a few days. He is only waiting for his rents in the
country to take the captain out of prison; but here is Miss Emily,
instead of being quite merry and joyful, is as dull and as melancholy as
if she was going to be married to a frightful old man." "Consider," said
Amanda, "you have just said her heart was pre-engaged." "Lord!" cried
Mrs. Connel, "a girl at her time of life can change her love as easily
as her cap." "I sincerely hope," exclaimed Amanda, "that she either has,
or may soon be able to transfer hers." "And now, pray, madam," said Mrs.
Connel, with a look which seemed to say Amanda should be as
communicative as she had been, "may I ask from whence you have
travelled?" "From a remote part of Scotland." "Dear, what a long
journey!--Lord! they say that is a very desolate place, without never a
tree or a bush in it." "I assure you it wants neither shade nor
verdure," replied Amanda. "Really; well, Lord, what lies some people
tell! Pray, ma'am, may I ask what countrywoman you are?" "Welsh," said
Amanda. "Really; well, I suppose, ma'am, you have had many a scramble up
the mountains, after the goats, which they say are marvellous plenty in
that part of the world." "No, indeed," replied Amanda, "Are you come to
make any long stay in London, ma'am?" "I have not determined." "I
suppose you have come about a little business, ma'am?" resumed Mrs.
Connel. "Yes," replied Amanda. "To be sure, not an affair of great
consequence, or so young a lady would not have undertaken it." Amanda
smiled, but made no reply, and was at length relieved from these
tiresome and inquisitive questions by Mrs. Connel's calling in her girls
to tea; after which she washed the tea-things, put them into the
beaufet, and left the room to order something comfortable for supper.
Left to herself, Amanda reflected that at the present juncture of
Rushbrook's affairs, when his attention and time were engrossed by the
approaching settlement of his daughter, an application to him, on her
own account, would be not only impertinent, but unavailing; she
therefore determined to wait till the hurry and agitation produced by
such an event had subsided, and most sincerely did she hope that it
might be productive of felicity to all. Mrs. Connel was not long absent,
and Emily returned almost at the moment she re-entered the room. "Well,
miss," said Mrs. Connel, addressing her ere she had time to speak to
Amanda, "I have been telling your good friend here all about your
affairs."
"Have you, ma'am?" cried Emily, with a faint smile, and a dejected
voice. Amanda looked earnestly in her face, and saw an expression of the
deepest sadness in it. From her own heart she readily imagined what her
feelings must be at such a disappointment as Mrs. Connel had mentioned,
and felt the sincerest pity for her. Mrs. Connel's volubility tormented
them both; supper happily terminated it, as she was then much better
employed, in her own opinion, than she could possibly have been in
talking. Amanda pleaded fatigue for retiring early. Mrs. Connel advised
her to try a few glasses of wine as a restorative, but she begged to be
excused, and was allowed to retire with Emily. The chamber was small but
neat, and enlivened by a good fire, to which Amanda and Emily sat down
while undressing. The latter eagerly availed herself of this opportunity
to express the gratitude of her heart. Amanda tried to change the
discourse, but could not succeed. "Long, madam," continued Emily, "have
we wished to return our thanks for a benefaction so delicately conveyed
as yours, and happy were my parents to-night when I informed them I
could now express their grateful feelings." "Though interested
exceedingly in your affairs," said Amanda, making another effort to
change the discourse, "be assured I never should have taken the liberty
of inquiring minutely into them, and I mention this, lest you might
suppose from what Mrs. Connel said, that I had done so." "No, madam,"
replied Emily, "I had no such idea, and an inquiry from you would be
rather pleasing than otherwise, because I should then flatter myself you
might be induced to listen to griefs which have long wanted the
consolation of sympathy--such, I am sure, as they would receive from
you." "Happy should I be," cried Amanda, "had I the power of alleviating
them." "Oh! madam, you have the power," said Emily, "for you would
commiserate them, and commiseration from you would be balm to my heart;
you would strengthen me in my duties--you would instruct me in
resignation; but I am selfish in desiring to intrude them on you." "No,"
replied Amanda, taking her hand, "you flatter me by such a desire."
"Then, madam, whilst you are undressing, I will give myself the
melancholy indulgence of relating my little story."