_----Oh my fate!
That never would consent that I should see
How worthy thou wert both of love and duty,
Before I lost you;----_
_With justice, therefore, you may cut me off,
And from your memory wash the remembrance
That e'er I was; like to some vicious purpose,
Which in your better judgment you repent of,
And study to forget._
Massinger.
The morning shone bright with a summer sun. The trees, though now rich
in foliage, were still varied with the fresh hues of spring. The river
flashed gaily in the sun beam; or rolled foaming from the prows of
stately vessels, which now veered as in conscious grace, now moved
onward as in power without effort, bearing wealth and plenty from
distant lands. What heart, that is not chilled by misery, or hardened by
guilt, is insensible to the charms of renovated nature! What human heart
exults not in the tokens of human power! Mine rejoiced in the splendid
scene before me; but it was the rejoicing of the proud, always akin to
boasting. 'How richly,' I exclaimed, 'has the Creator adorned this fair
dwelling of his children! A glorious dwelling, worthy of the noble
creatures for whom it was designed;--creatures whose courage braves the
mighty ocean,--whose power compels the service of the elements,--whose
wisdom scales the heavens, and unlocks the springs of a moving universe!
And can there be zealots whose gloomy souls behold in this magnificent
frame of things, only the scene of a dull and toilsome pilgrimage, for
beings wayworn, guilty, wretched?'
In these thoughts, and others of like reasonableness and humility, I
reached the dwelling of my friend. It was a low thatched cottage,
standing somewhat apart from a few scattered dwellings, which scarcely
deserved the name of a village. I had seen it in my childhood, when a
holiday had dismissed me from confinement; and it was associated in my
mind with images of gaiety and freedom. Alas! those images but ill
accorded with its present aspect. It looked deserted and forlorn. She,
by whose taste it had been adorned, was now a prisoner within its walls.
The flowers which she had planted were blooming in confused luxuriance.
The rose-tree, which she had taught to climb the latticed porch, now
half-impeded entrance, and the jessamine which she had twined round her
casement, now threw back its dishevelled sprays as if to shade her
death-bed. The carriage stopped at the wicket of the neglected garden;
and I, my lofty thoughts somewhat quelled by the desolateness of the
scene, passed thoughtfully towards the cottage, along a walk once kept
with a neatness the most precise, now faintly marked with a narrow track
which alone repressed the disorderly vegetation.
The door was opened for me by Miss Mortimer's only domestic; a grave and
reverend-looking person, with silver grey hair, combed smooth under a
neat crimped coif, and with a starched white handkerchief crossed
decently upon her breast. Nor were her manners less a contrast to those
of the flippant gentlewomen to whose attendance I was accustomed. With
abundance of ceremony, she ushered me up stairs; then passing me with a
low courtesy, and a few words of respectful apology, she went before me
into her mistress's apartment, and announced my arrival in terms in
which the familiar kindness of a friend blended oddly with the reverence
of an inferior. Miss Mortimer, with an exclamation of joy, stretched her
arms fondly towards me. Prepared as I was for an alteration in her
appearance, I was shocked at the change which a few weeks had effected.
A faint glow flushed her face for a moment, and vanished. Her eyes, that
were wont to beam with such dove-like softness, now shed an ominous
brilliance. The hand which she extended towards me, scarcely seemed to
exclude the light, and every little vein was perceptible in its sickly
transparency. Yet her wasted countenance retained its serenity; and her
feeble voice still spoke the accents of cheerfulness. 'My dearest
Ellen,' said she, 'this is so kind! And yet I expected it too! I knew
you would come.'
Blushing at praise which my tardy kindness had so ill deserved, I
hastily enquired concerning her health. 'I believe,' said she smiling,
though she sighed too, 'that I am still to cumber the ground a little
longer. I am told that my immediate danger is past.'
'Heavens be praised,' cried I, with fervent sincerity.
'God's will be done,' said Miss Mortimer: 'I once seemed so near my
haven! I little thought to be cast back upon the stormy ocean; but,
God's will be done.'
'Nay, call it not the stormy ocean,' said I. 'Say rather, upon a
cheerful stream, where you and I shall glide peacefully on together. You
will soon be able to come to us at Richmond; and then I will show you
all the affection and all the respect which----' 'I ought always to have
shown,' were the words which rose to my lips; but pride stifled the
accents of confession. 'Were you once able,' continued I, 'to taste the
blessed air that stirs all living things so joyously to-day, and see how
all earth and heaven are gladdened with this glorious sunshine, you
would gain new life and vigour every moment.'
'Ay, he is shining brightly,' said Miss Mortimer, looking towards her
darkened casement. 'And a better sun, too, is gladdening all earth and
heaven; but I, confined in a low cottage, see only the faint reflection
of his brightness. But I know that He is shining gloriously,' continued
she, the flush of rapture mounting to her face, 'and I shall yet see Him
and rejoice!'
I made no reply. 'It is fortunate,' thought I, 'that they who have no
pleasure in this life can solace themselves with the prospect of
another.' Little did I at that moment imagine, that I myself was
destined to furnish proof, that the loss of all worldly comfort cannot
of itself procure this solace; that the ruin of all our earthly
prospects cannot of itself elevate the hope long used to grovel among
earthly things.
I spent almost two hours with my friend; during which, though so weak
that the slightest exertions seemed oppressive to her, she at intervals
conversed cheerfully. She enquired with friendly interest into my
employments and recreations; but she knew me too well to hazard more
direct interrogation concerning the effect of her monitory letter. In
the course of our conversation, she asked, whether I often saw Mr
Maitland? The question was a very simple one; but my roused watchfulness
upon that subject made me fancy something particular in her manner of
asking it. It had occurred to me, that she might possibly be able to
solve the difficulty which had of late so much perplexed me; but I could
not prevail upon myself to state the case directly. 'I wonder,' said I,
'now that you are gone, what can induce Maitland to visit us so often?'
I thought there was meaning in Miss Mortimer's smile; but her reply was
prevented by the entrance of the maid with refreshments. I wished
Barbara a thousand miles off with her tray, though it contained rich
wines, and some of the most costly fruits of the season. Miss Mortimer
pressed me to partake of them, telling me, that she was regularly and
profusely supplied. 'The giver,' said she, 'withholds nothing except his
name, and that, too, I believe I can guess.'
A gentle knock at the house-door now drew Barbara from the room, and I
instantly began to contrive how I might revert to the subject of my
curiosity. 'Could you have imagined,' said I, 'that my father was the
kind of man likely to attract Maitland so much?'
My enemy again made her appearance. 'Mr Maitland is below, madam,' said
she: 'I asked him in, because I thought you would not turn his worthy
worship away the third time he is come to ask for you.'
'Well, Ellen,' said Miss Mortimer, smiling, 'as your presence may
protect my character, I think I may see him to-day.'
As Mr Maitland entered the room, I saw my friend make a feeble effort to
rise from her seat; and, bending towards her, I supported her in my
arms. The moment Maitland's eye fell upon me, it lightened with
satisfaction. After speaking to my friend he turned to me. 'Miss Percy!'
said he; and he said no more; but I would not have exchanged these words
and the look which accompanied them for all the compliments of all
mankind. Yet at that moment the spirit of coquetry slept; I quite forgot
to calculate upon his love, and thought only of his approbation.
I believe neither Maitland nor I recollected that he still held the hand
he had taken, till Miss Mortimer offered him some fruit, hinting that
she suspected him of having a peculiar right to it. A slight change of
colour betrayed him; but he only answered carelessly, that fruit came
seasonably after a walk of seven miles in a sultry day. 'You never
travel otherwise than on foot on Sunday,' said Miss Mortimer. 'I seldom
find occasion to travel on Sunday at all,' answered Maitland; 'but I
knew that I could spend an hour with you without violating the spirit of
the fourth commandment.'
The hour was spent, and spent without weariness even to me; yet I cannot
recollect that a single sentence was uttered in reference to worldly
business or amusement; except that Maitland once bitterly lamented his
disappointed hopes of usefulness to the African cause. 'However,' added
he, 'I believe I had need of that lesson. Our Master is the only one
whose servants venture to be displeased if they may not direct what
service he will accept from them.'
'Nobody is more in want of such a lesson than I,' said Miss Mortimer,
'when my foolish heart is tempted to repine at the prospect of being
thus laid aside, perhaps for years; useless as it should seem to myself
and to all human kind.'
'My good friend,' returned Maitland (and a tear for a moment quenched
the lightning of that eye before which the most untameable spirit must
have bowed submissive), 'say not that you are useless, while you can
show forth the praise of your Creator. His goodness shines gloriously
when he bestows and blesses the gifts of nature and of fortune; but more
gloriously when his mercy gladdens life after all these gifts are
withdrawn. It is the high privilege of your condition to prove that our
Father is of himself alone sufficient for the happiness of his
children.'
'I am sure, my friend,' cried I, 'of all people upon earth, you need the
least regret being made idle for a little while; for the recollection of
the good which you have already done must furnish your mind with a
continual feast.'
'Indeed, Ellen,' returned Miss Mortimer, 'you never were more mistaken.
I do not recollect one action of my life, not even among those which
originated in a sense of duty, that has not been degraded by some
mixture of evil, either in the motive or in the performance.'
'Oh but you know perfection is not expected from us.'
Maitland shook his head. 'I fear,' said he, 'we must not trust much to
your plea, so long as we are commanded to "be perfect." Miss Mortimer
will feel at peace; not because she hopes that her King will, instead of
her just tribute, accept of counters; but because she knows that the
full tribute has been paid.'
While I saw the truths of religion affect the vigorous mind of
Maitland,--while I saw them triumph in a feebler soul over pain, and
loneliness, and fear,--how could I remain wholly insensible to their
power? Whilst I listened to the conversation of these Christians, how
could I suppress a wish that their comforts might one day be mine? 'Pray
for me,' I whispered to Miss Mortimer, half-desirous, half-afraid to
extend my petition to Maitland, 'pray for me that, when I am sick and
dying, your God may bless me as he now blesses you.' I know not how my
friend replied; for Maitland laid his hand upon my head, with a look in
which all kind and holy feeling was so blended, that raptured saints can
image nothing more seraphic. He spoke not--but the language of man is
feeble to the eloquence of that pause!
But my mind was as yet unfit to retain any serious impression. The voice
of truth played over it as the breeze upon the unstable waters, moving
it gently for a moment, and then passing away. My religious humour
vanished with the scene by which it was excited; and even Miss
Mortimer's parting whisper helped to replace it by a far different
spirit. 'I can guess now,' said she, 'what carries Mr Maitland so often
to Bloomsbury Square.' Before hearing this remark, I had offered to
convey Maitland to town in my carriage; and now the heart which had so
lately swelled with better feelings, beat with a little coquettish
fluttering, when, having taken leave of my friend, I found myself seated
_tete-a-tete_ with my supposed admirer. Maitland was, however, the very
innocent cause of my flutterings; since for a whole mile he talked of
Miss Mortimer, and nothing but Miss Mortimer; then, perceiving that I
was little inclined to answer, he was silent, and left me to my
reflections.
The softness of evening was beginning to mingle with the cheerfulness of
day, and a fresher breeze began to lighten the sultry air. 'What an
Arcadian day!' cried I. 'Pity that you and I were not lovers, to enjoy
it thus alone together!'
I meant to utter this with the prettiest air of simplicity imaginable,
but found it quite impossible to suppress the conscious glow that stole
over my face. I was certain that Maitland coloured too, though he
answered with great self-possession. 'I make no pretensions to the
character of a lover,' said he; 'but you may allow me to converse with
you like a friend, which will do as well.'
'Oh the very worst substitute in nature,' cried I; 'for the conversation
of lovers is all complaisance; whereas I find that those who beg leave
to talk like friends always mean to ask something which I do not wish to
tell, or to tell something which I do not wish to hear.'
'Perhaps I may mean to do both,' said Maitland; 'for there is a question
which I have often wished to ask you; and when you have answered, I may
perhaps undertake the other office too. Are you aware that common report
joins your name with that of Lord Frederick de Burgh?'
'Stop!' cried I; 'positively you must not be my confessor.'
'That must be as you please,' returned Maitland. 'Then I will in charity
suppose you ignorant; and when I tell you that every gossip's tongue is
busy with his good fortune, I think you will grant him no additional
triumph; unless indeed it be possible that----' He paused, and then
added with unusual warmth,--'but I will not think of such profanation,
much less utter it.'
'Now, do Mr Maitland desist, I entreat you,' cried I, half-smiling, half
in earnest; 'for I never was lectured in my life without being guilty of
some impertinence; and there is nobody living whom I would not rather
offend than you.'
'I believe I must venture,' returned Maitland, looking at me with a
good-humoured smile. 'I would hazard much for your advantage.'
'Nay, positively you shall not,' said I, playfully laying my hand upon
his mouth.
This gesture, which, I protest, originated in mere thoughtlessness,
ended in utter confusion; for Maitland, seizing my hand, pressed it to
his lips. The whole affair was transacted in far less time than I can
tell it; and we both sat looking, I believe, abundantly silly; though
neither, I fancy, had the courage to take a view of the other.
The silence was first broken by a splenetic ejaculation from Maitland.
'Pshaw,' said he, 'you will compel me to act the puppy in spite of
myself.' Now, whatever colour Maitland might try to throw upon his
inadvertence, I plainly perceived that it had not originated in a cool
sense of the duty of gallantry; for he was even studiously inattentive
to all the common gallantries which I was accustomed to expect from
others. My breast swelled with the pride of victory; and yet my
situation was embarrassing enough; for Maitland, far from confirming my
dreams of conquest, much more from empowering me to pursue my triumph,
maintained a frozen silence, and seemed wrapt in a very unlover-like
meditation.
The first words which he uttered were these: 'Although Parliament
refuses justice to these Africans, much might be done for those already
in slavery. Much might be done by a person residing among them,
determined to own no interest but their welfare.' I could not at that
time follow the chain which had led to this idea. Unfortunately for me,
I was soon enabled to trace the connection.
As soon as we entered the town, Maitland expressed a wish to alight, and
immediately took a cold and formal leave. I returned home, with every
thought full of my new discovery, every affection absorbed in vanity.
Convinced of Maitland's attachment, I now only wondered why it was not
avowed. The most probable conjecture I could form was, that he wished to
save his pride the pain of a repulse; and again I piously resolved to
spare no torture within my power. I was determined that, cost what it
would, the secret should be explicitly told; after which I should, of
course, be entitled to exhibit and sport with my captive at pleasure.
Beyond this mean and silly triumph I looked not. I forgot that the lion,
even when tamed, will not learn the tricks of a monkey. Weaker souls, I
knew, might be led contented in their silken fetters: I forgot that the
strongest cords bound Samson only whilst he slept. To reward the
expected patience of my lover was not in all my thoughts. I should as
soon have dreamt of marrying my father.
Meanwhile Maitland was in no haste to renew my opportunities of
coquetting. Business, or, as I then thought, the fear of committing
himself, kept him a whole week from visiting us. During that week, I had
canvassed the subject with Miss Arnold under every possible aspect,
except those in which it would have appeared to a rational mind. I
believe my friend began to be, as perhaps the reader is, heartily tired
of my confidence. She certainly wished the occasion of our discussion at
an end; but she had no desire that it should end favourably to my
wishes. She dreaded the increase of Maitland's influence. A mutual
dislike, indeed, subsisted between them. He seemed to have an intuitive
perception of the dark side of her character; and she to feel a
revolting awe of his undeceiving, undeceivable sagacity. I have often
seen the artful, though they despise defenceless simplicity, and delight
to exert their skill against weapons like their own, yet shrink with
instinctive dread from plain, undesigning common sense. Maitland's
presence always imposed a visible restraint upon Miss Arnold; but she
had more cogent reasons than her dislike of Maitland, for wishing to
arrest the progress of an intercourse which threatened to baffle certain
schemes of her own. Meaning to interrupt our good understanding, she
gave me the advice which appeared most likely to effect her purpose. Of
this I have now no doubt; though, at that time, I harboured not a
suspicion of any motive less friendly than a desire to forward every
purpose of mine.
'If you don't flirt more sentimentally,' said she, 'you will never make
any impression upon Maitland. He knows you would never rattle away as
you do to De Burgh, with any man you really cared for. You should
endeavour to seem in earnest.'
'Oh, I am quite tired of endeavouring to "seem." And then I really can't
be sentimental: it is not in my nature. Besides, it would be all in
vain. Maitland has found out that I am not in love with Lord Frederick;
and it will be impossible to convince him of the contrary.'
'No matter; you may make him believe that you are somehow bound in
honour to Lord Frederick, which will quite answer the purpose.'
'No Juliet; that I cannot possibly do, without downright falsehood.'
'Oh, I'll engage to make him believe it, without telling him one word of
untruth. Let me manage the matter, and I'll make him as jealous as a
very Osmyn; that is, provided he be actually in love.'
The scepticism of my friend upon this point was a continual source of
irritation to me; and, to own the truth, furnished one great cause of my
eagerness to ascertain my conquest beyond cavil. 'Well!' returned I,
already beginning to yield, 'if you could accomplish it honourably:
but--no--I should not like to be thought weak enough to entangle myself
with a man for whom I had no particular attachment.'
'I am certain,' returned Miss Arnold, more gravely, 'that if Mr Maitland
thought your honour concerned, far from considering the fulfilment of
even a tacit engagement as a weakness, he would highly admire you for
the sacrifice.'
The prospect of being 'highly admired' by Mr Maitland blinded me to the
sophistry of this answer; yet I felt myself unwilling that he should
actually believe me to be under engagement, and I expressed that
unwillingness to my adviser. 'Oh!' cried she, 'we must guard against
making him too sure. I would merely hint the thing, as what I feared
might happen, and leave you an opening to deny or explain at any time.
As I live, there he comes, just at the lucky moment! Now, leave him to
me for half an hour, and I will engage to bring him to confession; that
is, if he has any thing to confess.'
'Well! I should like to see you convinced for once, if it be possible to
convince you; and yet what if he should----'
'Oh, there's his knock!' interrupted Juliet. 'If we stand here
objecting, we shall lose the opportunity. Sure you can trust to my
management.'
'Well, Juliet,' said I, with a prophetic sigh, 'do as you please; but,
for Heaven's sake, be cautious!' She instantly accepted the permission,
and flew down stairs to receive him in the parlour.
Let no woman retain in her confidence the treacherous ally who once
persuades or assists her to depart from the plain path of simplicity.
Such an ally, whatever partial fondness may allege, must be deficient
either in understanding or in integrity. That the associate who incites
you to deceive others will in time deceive yourself, is the least evil
to be apprehended from such a connection. The young are notoriously
liable to the guidance of their intimates; and most women are, in this
respect, young all their lives. If I had naturally any good tendency, it
was toward sincerity; and yet a false friend, working on my ruling
passion, had led me to the brink of actual deceit. So stable are the
virtues which are founded only in constitution or humour! Had I been
wisely unrelenting to the first artifice of pretended friendship, and
honestly abhorrent even of the wile which professed to favour me, the
bitterest misfortunes of my life might have been spared; and I might
have escaped from sufferings never to be forgotten, from errors never to
be cancelled.
My punishment began even during the moments of Miss Arnold's conference
with Maitland. I was restless and agitated. My heart throbbed violently,
less with the hopes of triumph than with the anxiousness of duplicity,
and the dread of detection. I trembled; I breathed painfully; at every
noise I started, thinking it betokened the close of the conference,
which yet seemed endless. Again and again I approached the parlour door,
and as often retreated, fearing to spoil all by a premature
interruption. I was once more resolving to join my friend, when I heard
some one leave the house. I flew to a window, and saw Maitland walk
swiftly along the square, and disappear, without once looking back. This
seemed ominous; but as my friend did not come to make her report, I went
in search of her.
I found her in an attitude of meditation; and though she instantly
advanced towards me with a smile, her countenance bore traces of
discomposure. 'Well, I protest,' cried she, 'there is no dealing with
these men without a little management.'
This sounded somewhat like a boast; and, my spirits reviving, I enquired
'how her management had succeeded?'
'You shall judge,' returned Miss Arnold. 'I will tell you all exactly
and candidly.' People seldom vouch for the candour of their narratives
when it is above suspicion. 'I could not be abrupt, you know,' proceeded
my _candid_ narrator; 'but I contrived to lead dexterously towards the
point; and, after smoothing my way a little just hinted a possibility
that Lord Frederick might succeed. Signor Maestoso took not the least
notice. Then I grew a little more explicit. Still without effect! He
only fixed his staring black eyes upon me, as if he would have looked
through me, to see what was my purpose in telling him all that. At last
I was obliged to say downrightly (Heaven forgive me for the fib!) that I
was afraid you might marry De Burgh at last, though I owned you had no
serious regard for him. All this while Don Pompous had been walking
about the room; but at this he stopped short, just opposite to me, and
asked me, with a frown as dark as a thunder cloud, "what reason I had to
say so?"--I--I declare, I was quite frightened.'
Miss Arnold stopped, and seemed to hesitate. 'Well! Go on!' cried I
impatiently.--'You know,' continued she, 'I could not answer his
question in any other way, except by giving him some little instances of
your--your good understanding with De Burgh; but still I could extort no
answer from the impenetrable creature, except now and then a kind of
grunt.'
'How tedious you are! Do proceed.'
'At last, when I found nothing else would do, I--I was obliged to have
recourse to--to an expedient, which produced an immediate effect. And
now, Ellen, I am convinced that Maitland loves you to distraction!'
'Indeed! What? How?'
'Ah, Ellen! you have a thousand times more penetration than I. I would
give the world for your faculty of reading the heart.'
'But, dear Juliet! how was it,--how did you discover----'
'Why, when nothing else seemed likely to avail, I--I thought I might
venture to hint, just by way of a trifling instance of your intimacy
with Lord Frederick, that--that you had--had borrowed a small sum from
him.'
'Good heaven, Juliet! did you tell Maitland this? Oh! he will despise me
for ever. Leave me,--treacherous,--you have undone me.'
'Ellen, my dearest Ellen,' said my friend, caressing me with the most
humble affection, 'I own I was very wrong; but indeed--indeed, if you
had seen how he was affected, you would have been convinced, that
nothing else could have been so effectual. If you had seen how pale he
grew, and how he trembled, and gasped for breath! You never saw a man in
such agitation. Dear Ellen, forgive me! You know I could have no motive
except to serve you.'
In spite of my vexation, I was not insensible to this statement, to
which my vanity gave full credit; though the slightest comparison of the
circumstances with the character of Maitland must have convinced me that
they were exaggerated. At length, curiosity so far prevailed over my
wrath, that I condescended to enquire what answer he had given to Miss
Arnold's information? Miss Arnold replied, that the first words which he
was able to utter, announced, that he must see me instantly. 'And why
then,' I asked, 'is he gone in such haste?'
My friend made me repeat this question before she could hear it;--an
expedient which often serves those whose answer is not quite ready.
'Because he--he afterwards changed his mind, and said he would call upon
you in an hour.'
Before the hour had elapsed, my resentment had yielded partly to my
friend's representations, partly to a new subject of alarm. I dreaded
lest, if Maitland considered my debt to Lord Frederick in so serious a
light, he might think it a duty of friendship to apprize my father of my
involvement; and, anxious to secure his secrecy, yet too proud to beg
it, I suffered him, at his return, to be admitted to my dressing-room,
although I had never before been so unwilling to encounter him.
Maitland, on his part, seemed little less embarrassed than myself. He
began to speak, but his words were inarticulate. He cleared his throat,
and seized my attention by a look full of meaning; and the effort ended
in some insignificant enquiry, to the answer of which he was evidently
insensible. At last, suddenly laying his hand upon my arm, 'Miss Percy,'
said he, 'pardon my abruptness,--I really can neither think nor talk of
trifles at this moment. Let me speak plainly to you. Allow me for once
the privilege of a friend. You cannot have one more sincere than myself;
nor,' added he with a deep sigh, 'one more disinterested.'
'Well!' returned I, moved by the kindness of his voice and manner, and
willing to shake off my embarrassment; 'use the privilege generously,
and I don't care if, for once, I grant it you.'
Maitland instantly, without compliment or apology, availed himself of my
concession. 'I presume,' said he, 'that Miss Arnold has acquainted you
with her very strange communication to me this morning.' I only bowed in
answer, and did not venture again to raise my head. 'Did she tell you,
too,' proceeded Maitland, in the tone of strong indignation, 'that she
meant to conceal from you this most unprovoked act of treachery, had I
not insisted upon warning you against a confidant who could betray your
secret,--and such a secret!'
Abashed and humbled, conscious that since my friend had been partly
licensed by myself, she was less blamable than she appeared, yet unable,
without exposing myself still farther, to state what little could be
alleged in her vindication, I stammered out a few words; implying, that
perhaps Miss Arnold did not affix any importance to the secret.
'The inferences she drew,' cried Maitland, 'leave no doubt, that she
thought it important; or, granting it were as you say, is the woman fit
to be a friend who could regard such a transaction as immaterial? Is
there any real friend to whom you could confide it without reluctance? I
need not ask if you have intrusted it to your father.'
The tears of mortification and resentment which had been collected in my
eyes while Maitland spoke, burst from them when I attempted to answer.
But my wounded pride quickly came to my assistance. 'No, sir,' returned
I; 'but if you think your own reproofs insufficient you will of course
aid them with my father's.'
Maitland could not resist the sight of my uneasiness. His countenance
expressed the most gentle compassion; and his voice softened even to
tenderness. 'And is the reproof of a father,' said he, 'more formidable
to you than all that your delicacy must suffer under obligation to a
confident admirer? Dearest Miss Percy, as a friend--a most attached,
most anxious friend--I beseech you to----'
He stopped short, and coloured very deeply,--suddenly aware, I believe,
that he was speaking with a warmth which friendship seldom assumes; then
taking refuge in a double intrenchment of formality, he begged me to
pardon a freedom which he ascribed to his friendship for my father and
Miss Mortimer. In spite of my mortifying situation, my heart bounded
with triumph as I traced through this disguise the proofs of my power
over the affections of Maitland. Recovering my spirits, I told him
frankly, that I was determined to make no application to my father,
since a few weeks would enable me to escape from my difficulty without
the hazard of incensing him. Maitland looked distressed, but made no
further attempt to persuade me. 'This is what I feared,' said he; 'but I
am sensible that I have no right to urge you.'
He was silent for some moments, and seemed labouring with something
which he knew not how to utter. A certain tremour began to steal over
me too, and expectation made my breath come short when I again heard
his voice. 'There may be an impropriety,' he began, but again he
stopped embarrassed. 'There may be objections against your--your
condescension to Lord Frederick, which do not apply to all your
acquaintance;--and--and I have taken the liberty to--to bring a few
hundred pounds in case you would do me the honour to----' The manly
brown of Maitland's cheek flushed with a warmer tint as he spoke; and
the eye which had so often awed my turbulent spirit, now sunk timidly
before mine; for he was conferring an obligation, and his generous
heart entered by sympathy into the situation of one compelled to accept
a pecuniary favour. But I was teazed and disappointed; for here was
nothing of the expected declaration; on the contrary, Maitland had
wilfully marked the difference between himself and a lover.
He probably read vexation in my face, though he ascribed it to a wrong
cause. 'I see,' said he, in a tone of mortification, 'that this is a
degree of confidence which I must not expect. Perhaps you will suffer me
to mention the matter to Miss Mortimer--she I am sure will allow me to
be her banker for any sum you may require.'
Shame on the heartless being who could see in this delicate kindness
only a triumph for the most despicable vanity! In vain did Maitland veil
his interest under the semblance of friendship. Seeing, and glorying to
see, that passion lurked under the disguise, I could not restrain my
impatience to force the mask away. I thanked Maitland, but told him that
the delay of a few weeks could be of little importance; adding, gaily,
that I fancied Lord Frederick was in no haste for payment; and would
prefer the right of a creditor over the liberty of his debtor.
Maitland almost shuddered. 'Can you jest upon such a subject?' said he.
The expression of uneasiness which crossed his features only encouraged
me to proceed. 'No, really,' said I, with affected seriousness, 'I am
quite in earnest. One day or other I suppose I must give somebody a
right to me, and it may as well be Lord Frederick as another. Marriage
will be at best but a heartless business to me--Heigho!'
'I hope it will be otherwise,' said Maitland, with a sigh not quite so
audible as mine, but a little more sincere.
'No, no,' said I, sighing again, 'love is out of the question with me.
The creatures that dangle after me want either a toy upon which to throw
away their money, or money to throw away upon their toys. A heart would
be quite lost upon any of them. If, indeed, a man of sense and worth had
attached himself to me,--a man with sincerity enough to tell me my
faults,--with gentleness to do it kindly,--with--with something in his
character, perhaps in his manners, to secure respect,--he might
have--have found me not incapable of--of an animated--I mean of a--a
very respectful friendship.'
I could not utter this last sentence without palpable emotion. Nature,
which had done much to unfit me for deliberate coquetry, faltered in my
voice; and stained my cheek with burning blushes. In the confusion which
I had brought upon myself, I should have utterly forgotten to watch the
success of my experiment, had not my attention been drawn by the tremor
of Maitland's hand. I ventured, thus encouraged, to steal a glance at
his countenance.
His eye was fixed upon me with a keenness which seemed to search my very
soul. Deep glowing crimson flushed his face. It was only for a moment.
His colour instantly fading to more than its natural paleness, he almost
threw from him the hand which he had held. 'Oh, Ellen!' he cried in a
tone of bitter reproach, 'how can you! suspecting, as I see you do, the
power of your witchery over me, how can you!--Others might despise my
weakness--I myself despise it--but with you it should have been sacred!'
Where is the spirit of prophecy which can foretell how that, which at a
distance seems desirable, will affect us when it meets our grasp? Who
could have believed that this avowal, so long expected, so eagerly
anticipated, should have been heard only with shame and mortification!
Far, indeed, from the elation of conquest were my feelings, while I
shrunk from the rebuke of him, whose displeasure had, with me, the power
of a reproving angel. Abashed and confounded, I did not even dare to
raise my eyes; whilst Maitland, retreating from me, stood for some
moments in thoughtful silence. Approaching me again, 'No,' said he, in a
low constrained voice, 'I cannot speak to you now. Give me a few minutes
to-morrow:--they shall be the last.'
Before I could have articulated a word, had the universe depended upon
my utterance, Maitland was gone.
As soon as my recollection returned, I stole, like a culprit, to my own
apartment, where, locking myself in, I fell into a reverie; in which
stifled self-reproach, resentment against Miss Arnold, and an undefined
dread of the consequences of Maitland's displeasure, were but faintly
relieved by complacency towards my own victorious charms. Maitland's
parting words rung in my ears; and though I endeavoured to persuade
myself that they were dictated by a resentment which could not resist
the slightest concession from me, they never recurred to my mind
unattended by some degree of alarm. I was determined, however, that no
consideration should tempt me to betray the cause of my sex, by humbling
myself before a proud lover; 'and, if he be resolved to break my chains,
let him do so,' said I, 'if he can.' I justly considered the loss of a
lover as no very grievous misfortune. Alas! I could not then estimate
the evil of losing such a friend as Maitland.
The next morning he came early to claim his audience; not such as I had
seen him the evening before; but calm, self-possessed, and dignified. He
entered upon his subject with apparent effort; telling me that he was
come to give me, if I had the patience to receive it, the explanation to
which he conceived me entitled, after the inadvertencies which had at
different times betrayed his secret. Provoked by his composure, I
answered, that 'explanation was quite unnecessary, since I did not
apprehend that either his conduct or motives could at all affect me.'
'Suffer me then,' said he, mildly, 'to explain them for my own sake,
that I may, if I can, escape the imputation of caprice.' I made some
light, silly reply; and, affecting the utmost indifference, took my
knotting and sat down. 'Have you no curiosity,' said Maitland, 'to know
how you won and how you have lost a heart that could have loved you
faithfully? Though my affections are of no value to you, you may one day
prize those which the same errors might alienate.'
'That is not very likely, sir,' said I. 'I shall probably not approach
so near the last stage of celibacy as to catch my advantage of any
wandering fancy which may cross a man's mind.'
'This was no wandering fancy,' said Maitland, with calm seriousness.
'You are the first woman I ever loved; and I shall retain the most
tender, the most peculiar interest in your welfare, long after what is
painful in my present feelings has passed away. But I must fly while I
can--before I lose the power to relinquish what I know it would be
misery to obtain.'
'Oh, sir, I assure you that this is a misery I should spare you,' cried
I; my heart swelling with impatience at a style of profession, for it
cannot be called courtship, to which I was so little accustomed.
'Now this is childish,' said Maitland. 'Are you angry at having escaped
being teazed with useless importunity? If you would have me feel all the
pang of leaving you, call back the candour and sweetness that first
bewitched me. For it was not your beauty, Ellen. I had seen you more
than once ere I observed that you were beautiful, and twenty times ere
I felt it. It was your playful simplicity, your want of all design, your
perfect transparency of mind, that won upon me before I was aware; and
when I was weary of toil and sick of the heartlessness and duplicity of
mankind, I turned to you, and thought--, it matters not what.'
Maitland paused, but I was in no humour to break the silence. My anger
gave place to a more gentle feeling. I felt that I had possessed, that I
had lost, the approbation of Maitland, and the tears were rising to my
eyes; but the fear that he should ascribe them to regret for the loss of
his stoic-love, forced them back to the proud heart.
'Yet,' continued Maitland, 'I perceived, pardon my plainness, that your
habits and inclinations were such as must be fatal to every plan of
domestic comfort; and at four-and-thirty a man begins to foresee, that,
after the raptures of the lover are past, the husband has a long life
before him; in which he must either share his joys and his sorrows with
a friend, or exact the submission of an inferior. To be a restraint upon
your pleasure is what I could not endure; yet otherwise they must have
interfered with every pursuit of my life,--nay, must every hour have
shocked my perceptions of right and wrong. Nor is this all,' continued
Maitland, guiding my comprehension by the increased solemnity of his
manner. 'Who that seeks a friend would choose one who would consider his
employments as irksome, his pleasures as fantastic, his hopes as a
dream?--one who would regard the object of his supreme desire as men do
a fearful vision, visiting them unwelcome in their hours of darkness,
but slighted or forgotten in every happier season? No, Ellen! the wife
of a Christian must be more than the toy of his leisure;--she must be
his fellow-labourer, his fellow-worshipper.'
'Very well, sir!' interrupted I, my spirit of impatience again beginning
to stir. 'Enough of my disqualifications for an office which I really
have no ambition to fill.'
'I believe you, Miss Percy,' returned Maitland, 'and that belief is all
that reconciles me to my sacrifice;--therefore beware how you weaken it
by these affected airs of scorn. I assure you, they were not necessary
to convince me that you are not to be won unsought. It was this
conviction which made me follow you even when I saw my danger. I
flattered myself that I might be useful to you,--or rather, perhaps,
this was the only device by which I could excuse my weakness to myself.
In a vain trust in the humility of a woman, and a trust yet more vain in
the prudence of a lover, I purposed to conceal my feelings till they
should be lost amidst the cares of a busy life. Your penetration, or my
own imprudence, has defeated that purpose, just as I begin to perceive
that you are too powerful for cares and business. Nothing, then, remains
but to fly whilst I have the power. In a fortnight hence, I shall sail
for the West Indies.'
I started, as if a dart had pierced me. The utmost which I had
apprehended from Maitland's threats of desertion, was, that he should
withdraw from our family circle. 'For the West Indies!' I faintly
repeated.
'Yes. It happens not unfortunately that I have business there. But I
have dwelt too long upon myself and my concerns. Since I must "cut off
the right hand," better the stroke were past. I have only one request to
make,--one earnest request, and then----' He paused. I would have asked
the nature of his request, but a rising in my throat threatened to
betray me, and I only ventured an enquiring look. Maitland took my hand:
and the demon of coquetry was now so entirely laid, that I suffered him
to retain it, without a struggle. 'Dear, ever dear Ellen,' said he,
'many an anxious thought will turn to you when we are far
asunder,--repay me for them all, by granting one petition. It is, that
you will confide your difficulties, whatever they be, to Miss Mortimer;
and, when you do so, give her this packet.'
'No, no,' interrupted I, with quickness. 'The sum I owe Lord Frederick
is a trifle compared to what you suppose it. It was the price of a
bauble,--a vile bauble. It was no secret,--hundreds saw it,--accident,
mere accident made me----'
Shocked at the emotion I was betraying, and in horror lest Maitland
should impute it to a humbling cause, I suddenly changed my manner;
haughtily declaring that I would neither distress my friend in her
illness nor incur any new obligation. Maitland modestly endeavoured to
shake my determination; but, finding me resolute, he rose to be gone.
'Farewell, Ellen,' said he,--'every blessing----,' the rest could not
reach my ear, but while I have being, I shall remember his look as he
turned from me. It was anguish, rendered more touching by a faint
struggle for a smile, that came like a watery beam upon the troubled
deep, making the sadness more dreary. I turned to a window, and watched
till he disappeared.
I have lived to be deserted by all mankind,--to wander houseless in a
land of strangers,--to gaze upon the crowds of an unknown city, assured
that I should see no friend,--to be secluded, as in a living grave, from
human intelligence and human sympathy; but never did I feel so
desolately alone, as when I turned to the chamber where Maitland had
been and felt that he was gone. Miss Mortimer's words flashed on my
mind. 'The good and the wise will one by one forsake you.'--'They have
forsaken me! all forsaken me!' I cried, as, throwing myself upon the
ground, I rested my head upon the seat which Maitland had left, hid my
face in my arm, and wept.