_Shift not thy colour at the sound of death!
For death----
Seems not a blank to me; a loss of all
Those fond sensations,--those enchanting dreams,
Which cheat a toiling world from day to day,
And form the whole of happiness it knows.
Death is to me perfection, glory, triumph!_
Thomson.
Sidney's overtures cost me some hesitation. They were unquestionably
disinterested; and they were made with a plainness rather prepossessing
to one who had so lately experienced the hollowness of more flowery
profession. Nothing could be objected to his person, manners, or
reputation. Miss Mortimer's ill health rendered the protection I enjoyed
more than precarious. Honourable guardianship, and plain sufficiency,
offered me a tempting alternative to labour and dependence. But I was
not in love; and as I had no inclination to marry, I had leisure to see
the folly of entering upon peculiar and difficult duties, while I was
yet a novice in those which are binding upon all mankind. Sidney had,
indeed, by that natural and involuntary hypocrisy, which assumes for the
time the sentiments of a beloved object, convinced me that he was of a
religious turn of mind; and from his avowed heresies I made no doubt of
being able to reclaim him; but he wanted a certain masculine dignity of
character, which had, I scarcely knew how, become a _sine qua non_ in my
matrimonial views. These things considered, I decided against Sidney;
and it so happened, that this decision was formed in an hour after I had
received a long and friendly letter from Mr Maitland.
Now this letter did not contain one word of Maitland's former avowal;
nor one insinuation of affection, which might not, with equal propriety,
have been expressed by my grandmother. But it spoke a strong feeling for
my misfortunes; a kindly interest in my welfare; it represented the
duties and the advantages of my new condition; and reminded me, that, in
so far as independence is attainable by man, it belongs to every one who
can limit his desires to that which can be purchased by his labour.
'I see no advantage in being married,' said I, rousing myself from a
reverie into which I had fallen after the third reading of my letter.
'Mr Maitland can advise me as well as any husband could; and in ten or a
dozen years hence, I might make myself very useful to him too. I might
manage his household, and amuse him; and there could be nothing absurd
in that after we were both so old.'
'Not quite old enough for that sort of life, I am afraid,' said Miss
Mortimer, smiling. 'If, indeed, Mr Maitland were to marry, the woman of
his choice would probably be an invaluable protector to you.'
'Oh he won't marry. I am sure he will not; and I wonder, Miss Mortimer,
what makes you so anxious to dispose of all your favourites? For my
part, I hate to hear of people being married.'
I thought there was meaning in Miss Mortimer's half suppressed smile;
but she did not raise her eyes, and only answered good humouredly, that,
'indeed, all her matrimonial plans for the last twenty years had been
for others.'
Some expressions of curiosity on my part now drew from Miss Mortimer a
narrative of her uneventful life; which, as it is connected with the
little I knew of Mr Maitland's, and with the story of my mother's early
days, I shall give in my own words:--
Miss Mortimer and my mother were hereditary friends. Their fathers
fought side by side,--their mothers became widows together.--Together
the surviving parents retired to quiet neglect, and mutually devoted
themselves to the duties which still remained for them. Those which fell
to the lot of Mrs Warburton were the more difficult; for, while a
moderate patrimony placed the only child of her friend above dependence,
it was her task to reconcile to poverty and toil the high spirit of a
youth of genius; and to arm, for the rude encounters of the world, a
being to whom gentleness made them terrible, to whom beauty increased
their danger.
The splendid progress of young Warburton's education had been the boast
of his teachers,--the delight of his parents,--the pride, the only pride
of his sister's heart. But his father's death blasted the fair prospect.
The widow's pittance could not afford to her son the means of
instruction; and from the pursuit of knowledge,--the pleasures of
success,--and the hopes of distinction,--poor Warburton unwillingly
turned to earn, by the toil of the day, the support which was to fit him
for the toil of the morrow. Disgusted and desponding, he yet refrained
from aggravating by complaint the sorrows of his mother and his sister.
To Miss Mortimer, the companion of his childhood, he mourned his
disappointed ambition, and was heard with sympathy; he deplored the
failure of hopes more interesting, and won something more than pity.
In the counting-house, which was the scene of his cheerless labour, he
found, however, a friend; and Maitland, though nearly seven years
younger than he, gained first his respect, and then his affection.
Maitland, while thus in age a boy, was a tall, vigorous, hardy
mountaineer. His nerves had been braced by toilsome exercise and
inclement skies; his strong mind had gained power under a discipline
which allowed no other rest than change of employment. He had left his
native land, and renounced his paternal home, in compliance with the
will of his parents, and the caprice of his uncle, who, upon these
conditions, offered him the reversion of a splendid affluence. His
country he remembered with the virtuous partiality which so strongly
distinguishes, and so well becomes, her children. Of his paternal home
he seldom spoke. Silent and shy, he escaped the smile of vulgar scorn,
which would have avenged the confession that the bribes of fortune
poorly repaid the endearments of brethren and friends; that all the
charms of spectacle and song could not please like the rude verse which
first taught him the legends of a gallant ancestry; that all the
treasures of art he would have gladly exchanged for permission to bend
once more from the precipice which no foot but his had ever dared to
climb, or linger once more in the valley whose freshness had rewarded
his first infant adventure. Curiosity is feeble in the busy and the gay.
No one asked, no one heard the story of Maitland's youth; and Warburton
alone knew the full cost of a sacrifice too great and too painful to be
made a theme with strangers. Maitland the elder, retaining his national
prejudice in favour of a liberal education, permitted his nephew to
pursue and enlarge his studies under the inspection of a man of sense
and learning; designing to send him at a proper age to the university.
Meanwhile he required him to spend a few hours daily in attendance upon
his future profession.
In Maitland, young as he was, Warburton found a companion who could task
his mind to its full strength. In classical acquirements, Maitland was
already little inferior to his friend; and, if he had less imagination,
he had more acuteness and sagacity. Enduring in quiet scorn the derision
which his provincial accent excited in the sharers of his humbler
lessons, he was pleased to find in Warburton manners more congenial with
his own habits. The young scholars had subjects of mutual interest in
which the others could not sympathise. The few hours which Maitland
spent daily in the counting-house, alone broke the dull monotony of
Warburton's labour; and Warburton alone listened with the enthusiasm
which unlocks the heart, to Maitland's descriptions of his native
scenes, of torrents roaring from the precipice, and woods dishevelled by
the storm. They became friends, and Warburton confided his lost hopes,
and bewailed the untimely close of his attainments. The hardier mind of
Maitland suggested a remedy for the evil. He advised his friend to earn
by severer toil, and to save by stricter parsimony, a fund which might
in time afford the advantage of a college life. From that hour he
himself gave the example of the toil and the parsimony which he
recommended. He abridged his rest, he renounced his recreations for the
drudgery of translating for a bookseller. The allowance which he had
been accustomed to spend, he hoarded with a miser's care. He was invited
to share the pleasures of his companions, and resolutely refused. He
listened to hints of his penurious temper, and deigned no other answer
than a smile. But, when he was better known, few were so unprincipled as
to find in him the subject of a jest, and fewer still so daring as to
betray their scorn; for Maitland possessed, even then, qualities which
ensure command,--integrity which no bribe could warp,--decision which
feared no difficulty,--penetration which admitted of no disguise. After
two years of silent perseverance, he presented to his friend the fruits
of his self-denial, and was more than recompensed when Warburton
accompanied him to Oxford.
It was a few months before the completion of this arrangement, that Mr
Percy, taking shelter from a shower in a parish church at the hour of
morning prayer, was captivated by the beauty, the modesty, and the
devotion of Frances Warburton. He followed her home; obtained an
introduction; and soon made proposals, with little form and much
liberality. Frances shrunk from her new lover; for a difference of
thirty years in their ages was the least point of their dissimilarity.
The lover, sensible of no disparity but such as a settlement might
counterbalance, enlarged his offers. He would have scorned to let any
expectation outgo his liberality. He promised competence for life to her
mother, and Frances faltered in her refusal. Mrs Warburton did not use
direct persuasion; but she sometimes lamented to her daughter that
poverty should mar the promise of her Edmund's genius. 'Had he but one
friend,' said she, 'even one to encourage or assist him, he would yet be
the glory of my old age.'--'He shall have a friend,' returned the
weeping Frances;--and she married Mr Percy.
But the sacrifice was unavailing. Young Warburton was not destined to
need such aid as riches can give, nor to attain such advancement as
riches can buy. His constitution, already broken by confinement, was
unequal to his more willing exertions; yet, insensible to his danger, he
pursued his enticing bane; rejected the friendly warning which told him
that he was labouring his life away; and was one morning found dead in
his study; the essay lying before him which was that day to have
introduced him to fame and fortune.
Miss Mortimer and her friend suffering together, became the more
endeared to each other. My mother, indeed, had found a new object of
interest; and she transferred a part, perhaps too large a part, of her
widowed affections to her child. Miss Mortimer raised hers to a better
world; and recalled them to this fleeting scene no more.
Maitland, defended from the dangers of a university by steady principles
and habits of application, passed safely, even at Oxford, the perilous
years between boyhood and majority; then turned his attention to studies
more peculiarly belonging to his intended profession. He visited the
greatest commercial cities upon the Continent; conversed with the most
enlightened of their merchants; and, far from limiting his inquiries to
the mere means of gain, he embraced in his comprehensive mind all the
mutual relations and mutual benefits of trading nations. At the age of
twenty-five he returned home, to take a principal share in the direction
of one of the greatest mercantile houses in Britain. Before he was
thirty, the death of his uncle had put him in possession of a noble
independence, and left him chief partner in a concern which promised to
realise the wildest dreams of avarice. But the love of wealth had no
place in Maitland's soul. A small part of his princely revenue sufficed
for one whose habits were frugal, whose pleasures were simple, whose
tastes were domestic. The remainder stole forth in many a channel; like
unseen rills, betraying its course only by the riches which it brought.
Awake, as he ever was, to the claims of justice and humanity, it was not
personal interest that could shield the slave trade from the reprobation
of Maitland. He conquered his retiring nature that, in the senate of his
country, he might lend his testimony against this foulest of her crimes;
and when that senate stilled the general cry with a poor promise of
distant reform, he blushed for England and for human kind. Somewhat of
the same honest shame he felt at the recollection that he was himself
the proprietor of many hundreds of his fellow-creatures; and when he
found that his public exertions in their cause did not avail, he braved
the danger of a pestilent climate to mitigate the evil which he could
not cure, and to gain, by personal investigation, knowledge which might
yet be useful in better times.
Such was Maitland. I dwell upon his character with mingled pleasure and
regret: pleasure, perhaps, not untainted with womanly vanity; regret,
that, when I might have shared the labours, the virtues, the love of his
noble soul, a senseless vanity made me cold to his affection,--a mean
coquetry wrecked me in his esteem! I might once, indeed, have bound him
to me for ever; but it was now plain that he had cast off his inglorious
shackles. Although I answered his letter, he showed no intention of
continuing our correspondence, and to Miss Mortimer he noticed me only
as a common friend; nor did he ever mention his return to Britain as
likely to take place before the lapse of many years.
Warned by the consequences of my past folly, and beginning now to act,
however imperfectly, by the only rule which will ever lead us to uniform
justice, I had no sooner formed my resolution in regard to Sidney, than
I gave him an opportunity of learning my sentiments. I will not deny
that this cost me an effort, for I was afraid of losing a pleasant
acquaintance; and besides, as the young gentleman was sentimentally in
love, his little anxieties and tremours were really, in spite of myself,
amusing. But vanity, though unconquerably rooted in me by nature and
habit, was no longer overlooked as a venial error. I struggled against
it, as a part of that selfish, earth-born spirit, which was altogether
inconsistent with my new profession, and which except at the moment of
temptation, seemed now too despicable to bias the actions even of an
infant. Sidney was a man of sense; and therefore, by a very few efforts
of firmness I convinced him that he could be nothing more.
Nor did the explanation occasion even a temporary suspension of our
intercourse. Unfortunately, his professional visits were become
necessary to Miss Mortimer; and with me he had long before started a
topic, amply compensating that which I had interdicted. He had an
excellent chemical library, and a tolerable apparatus. By means of
these, and a degree of patience not to be expected from any man but a
lover, he contrived to initiate me into the first rudiments of a
science, which has no detriment except its unbounded power of enticing
those who pursue it. By informing me what I might read with advantage,
he saved me the time which I might have lost in making the discovery
myself; and though he had not always leisure to watch my progress, he
could direct me what to attempt. After all, it must be confessed that my
attainments in chemistry were contemptible; but even this feeble
beginning of a habit of patient enquiry was invaluable. Besides, in the
course of my experiments, I made a discovery infinitely more important
to me than that of latent heat or galvanism; namely, that the prospect
of exhibition is not necessary to the interest of study.
Nothing is more important in its issue, nothing more dull in relation,
than a life of quiet and regular employment. A narrative of my first
year's residence with Miss Mortimer would be a mere detail of feelings
and reflections, mixed with confessions of a thousand instances of
rashness, impatience, and pride. My original blemishes were still
conspicuous enough to establish my identity; yet one momentous change
had taken place, for those blemishes were no longer unobserved or
wilful. I had become more afraid of erring than of seeing my
error,--more anxious to escape from my faults than from my conscience.
Not that her rebukes were become more gentle: on the contrary, an
unutterable sense of depravity and ingratitude was added to my
self-accusings; for, in receiving the forgiveness of a father, I had
awakened to the feelings of a child, and in every act of disobedience I
sinned against all the affections of my soul. Let it not be objected to
religion, if my judgment was disproportioned to the force of sentiments
like these; and if, though no devotion can be extravagant in its degree,
mine was sometimes indiscreet in its expression. The fault lay in my
education, not in my faith. Christianity justly claims for her own the
'spirit of a sound mind;' but that spirit dwells most frequently with
those whose devout feelings have been accustomed to find their chief
vent in virtuous actions.
My walk happened one day to lead near a dissenting chapel; and the
eagerness to hear which characterises recent converts made me join the
multitude who thronged the entrance. 'The truth,' thought I, 'is
despised by the gay and the giddy; but to me it shall be welcome, come
when it will.' Was there nothing pharisaical in the temper of this
welcome? In spite, however, of the liberality for which I was applauding
myself, my expectations were influenced by my early prejudices; and I
presupposed the preacher, zealous indeed, but loud, stern, and
inelegant. Surprise, therefore, added force to my impressions. The
unadorned pulpit was occupied by a youth not yet in his prime, nor
destined, as it seemed, ever to reach that period. The bloom of youth
had given place in his countenance to a wandering glow, that came and
went with the mind's or the body's fever. His bright blue eyes--now cast
down in humility, now flashing with rapturous hope--had never shone with
less gentle fires. His manner had the mild seriousness of entreaty,--his
composition the careless vigour of genius; or rather the eloquence of
one, who, feeling the essential glory of truth, thinks not of decking
her with tinsel.
Reasoning must convince the understanding, and a power which neither
human reasoning nor human eloquence can boast must bend the will to
goodness; but that which comes from the heart will, for a time at least,
reach the heart. Mine was strongly moved. The novel simplicity of
form,--the fervour of extemporary prayer,--the zeal of the youthful
teacher, his faithful descriptions of a debasement which I strongly
felt, his unqualifying application of the only medicine which can
minister to this mortal disease,--roused me at once to all the energy of
passion. I abhorred the coldness of my ordinary convictions; and,
compared with what I now felt, disparaged the impression of regular
instruction. I forgot, or I had yet to learn, that the genuine spirit of
the Gospel is described as the 'spirit of peace,' not of rapture; that
the heavenly weapon is not characterised as dazzling us with its lustre,
but as 'bringing into captivity every thought.' Feeling an increase of
heat, I rashly inferred that I had received an accession of light; and
immediately resolved to join the favoured congregation of a pastor so
useful.
My recollection of the prejudice which confounds in one undistinguishing
charge of fanaticism many thousands of virtuous and sober-minded persons
rather strengthened that resolution; for fire and faggot are not the
only species of persecution which arms our natural feelings on the side
of the suffering cause. I gloried in the thought of sharing contempt
for conscience-sake; and longed with more, it must be owned, of zeal
than of humility, to enter upon this minor martyrdom.
That very evening I announced my purpose to my friend, in a tone of
premature triumph. Miss Mortimer was so habitually averse to
contradicting, that I was obliged to interpret into dissent the grave
silence in which she received my communication. Dissent I might have
borne, but not such dissent as barred all disputation; and I entered on
a warm defence of my sentiments, as if they had been attacked. Miss
Mortimer waited the subsiding of that part of my warmth which belonged
to mere temper; then gave a mild but firm opinion. 'It had been
allowed,' she told me, 'by an author of equal candour and acuteness,
that "there is, perhaps, no establishment so corrupt as not to make the
bulk of mankind better than they would be without it." Our countenance,
therefore,' she said, 'to the establishment of the country in which we
lived was a debt we owed to society; unless, indeed, the higher duty
which we owed to God were outraged by the doctrines of the national
church. As for mere form, it had always,' she said, 'appeared to her
utterly immaterial, except as it served to express or to strengthen
devotion; therefore, it seemed unnecessary to forsake a ritual which had
been found to answer these purposes. If the ordinances, as administered
by our church, were less efficacious to me than they had been to others,
she would wish me to examine whether this were not owing to some
unobserved error in my manner of using them; but if, after diligent
attention, humble self-examination, and earnest prayer for guidance, I
continued to find the national worship unsuitable to my particular case,
she might regret, but she could not condemn, my secession; since I
should then be not only privileged, but bound, to forsake her
communion.'
The time was not long past, since even this mild resistance would have
only confirmed me in a favourite purpose; but I was becoming less
confident in my own judgment, and Miss Mortimer's consistent worth had
established an influence over me beyond even that to which my
obligations entitled her. Though her natural abilities were merely
respectable, her opinions upon every point of duty had such precision
and good sense that, without being aware of it, I leant upon her
judgment of right and wrong, as naturally as the infant trusts his first
unsteady steps to his mother's sustaining hand. She prevailed upon me to
pause, ere I forsook the forms in which my fathers had worshipped; and
though her own principle has since connected me with a church of
simpler government and ritual, I have never seen reason to repent of the
delay.
And now, deprived as I was of all the baubles which I had once imagined
necessary to comfort, almost to existence, I was nearer to happiness
than I had ever been while in the full enjoyment of all that pleasure,
wealth, and flattery can bestow; for I now possessed all the materials
of such happiness as this state of trial admits,--good health, constant
employment, the necessaries of this life, and the steady hope of a
better. And let the lover of pleasure, the slave of Mammon, the sage who
renounces the light of heaven for the spark which himself has kindled,
smile in scorn whilst I avow, that I at times felt rapture, compared
with which their highest triumph of success is tame. I can bear the
smile, for I know that they are compelled to mingle it with a sigh; that
they envy the creature whom they affect to scorn; and wish--vainly wish,
that they could choose the better part.
The bitter drop which is found in every cup, was infused into mine by
the increasing illness of Miss Mortimer; and by a strong suspicion, that
poverty aggravated to her the evils of disease. This latter
circumstance, however, was conjectural; for Miss Mortimer, though
confidingly open with me upon every other subject, was here most
guarded. From the restraint visibly laid upon inclinations which I knew
to be liberal in the extreme,--from my friend's obstinate refusal to
indulge in any of the little luxuries which sickness and debility
require,--from many trifles which cannot evade the eye of an inmate, I
began to form conjectures which I soon accidentally discovered to be but
too well founded. A gentleman happened to make a visit of business to
Miss Mortimer one day when she was too much indisposed to receive him;
and he incautiously committed to me a message for her, by which I
discovered, that her whole patrimony had been involved in the ruin of my
father; that, except the income of the current year, which she had
fortunately rescued a few weeks before the wreck, she had lost all;
that, while she made exertions beyond her strength to seek and to
comfort me, while she soothed my sullen despair, she was herself
shrinking before the gaunt aspect of poverty; and that, while she
contrived for me indulgences which she denied to herself, her generous
soul abhorred to divulge what might have rendered my feeling of
dependence more painful.
When the certainty of all this burst upon me, I felt as if I had been in
some sort responsible for the injury which my father had inflicted; and,
overwhelmed with a sense of most undeserved obligation, I almost sunk
to the ground. The moment I recovered myself, I flew to my friend, and
with floods of tears, and the most passionate expressions of gratitude,
I protested that I would no longer be a burden upon her generosity; and
besought her to consider of some situation in which I might earn my
subsistence. But Miss Mortimer resisted my proposal upon grounds which I
felt it impossible to dispute. 'I cannot spare you yet, my dear child,'
said she. 'I have been assured, that in a very few months you must be at
liberty; but you will not leave me yet!--you will not leave me to die
alone.'
This was the first intimation which I had received of the inevitable
fate of one whose gentle virtues and unwearied kindness had centered in
herself all my widowed affections; and it wholly overpowered the
fortitude which not an hour before I had thought invincible. I hurried
from human sight, while I mingled with bitter cries a passionate
entreaty, that I might suffer any thing rather than the loss of my only
friend. We often ask in folly; but we are answered in wisdom. The decree
was gone forth; and no selfish entreaties availed to detain the saint
from her reward. When the first emotions were past, I saw, and
confessed, that a petition such as mine, clothed in whatever language,
was wanting in the very nature of prayer; which has the promise of
obtaining what we need, not of extorting what we desire.
In the present situation of my friend, it was impossible for me to
forsake her; yet I could not endure to feel myself a burden upon the
little wreck which the misfortunes or imprudence of my family had left
her. Hour after hour I pondered the means of making my labour answer to
my subsistence. But there my early habits were doubly against me.
Accustomed to seek in trifling pastimes relaxation from employment
scarcely less trifling, perseverance in mere manual industry was to me
almost impossible. Habituated to confound the needful with the
desirable, I had no idea how large a proportion of what we think
necessary to the decencies of our station belongs solely to the wants of
our fancy. My highest notion of economy in dress went no farther than
the relinquishing of ornament; therefore, all my little works of
ingenuity were barely sufficient to supply my own wardrobe, and another
channel of expense which I had of late learnt to think at least as
necessary. I saw no means, therefore, of escaping my dependence upon
Miss Mortimer. Yet it made me miserable to think, that, for my sake, she
must deny herself the necessaries of decaying life.
My heart gave a bound as my eye chanced to be caught by the sparkle of
my mother's ring, and I recollected that its value might relieve my
unwilling pressure upon my friend. But when I had looked at it till a
thousand kindly recollections rose to my mind, my courage failed; and I
thought it impossible to part with the memorial of my first and fondest
attachment. Again my obligations to Miss Mortimer,--the rights of my
mother's friend,--the dread of subtracting from the few comforts of a
life which was so soon to close, upbraided my reluctance to sacrifice a
selfish feeling; but a casuistry, which has often aided me against
disagreeable duty, made me judge it best to act deliberately; and thus
to defer indefinitely what I could neither willingly do, nor peacefully
leave undone.
My decision, however, was hastened by one of those accidents which, I am
ashamed to say, have determined half the actions of my life. The next
morning, as I was reading to Miss Mortimer in her ground parlour, a
woman came to the window offering for sale a basket of beautiful fruit.
Fruit had been recommended as a medicine to my friend. I fancied, too,
though perhaps it was only fancy, that she looked wistfully at it; and
when she turned away without buying any, the scalding tears rushed to my
eyes. Hastily producing the money which I had privately received for
some painted screens, I heaped all the finest fruit before Miss
Mortimer; and when, in spite of her mild remonstrances, I had laid out
almost my whole fortune, I was seized with a sudden impatience to visit
London; and thither I immediately went, promising to return before
night.
I began my journey with a heavy heart. A stage-coach, the only
conveyance suited to my circumstances, was quite new to me; and I shrunk
with some alarm from companions, much like those usually to be met with
in such vehicles, vulgar, prying, and communicative. Finding, however,
that they offered me no incivility, I re-assured myself; and began to
consider what price I was likely to obtain for my ring, and how I might
best present my offering to Miss Mortimer. The first of these points I
settled more agreeably to my wishes than to truth; the second was still
undetermined when the coach stopped. Then I first recollected, that,
with my usual inconsiderateness, I had not left myself the means of
hiring a conveyance through the town. I had therefore no choice but to
walk alone in some of the most crowded streets of the city.
And now I had some cause for the alarm that seized me, for I was more
than once boldly accosted; and, ere I reached the shop where I intended
to offer my ring, I was so thoroughly discomposed, that I entered
without observing an equipage of the De Burghs at the door.
The shop was full of gay company; but one figure alone fixed my
attention. It was that of my heartless friend. I recoiled like one who
treads upon a serpent. My first impulse was to fly; but ere I had time
to retreat, a deadly sickness arrested my steps; and I stood motionless
and crouching towards the earth, as if struck by the power of the
basilisk. A person belonging to the shop, who came to enquire my
commands, seeing me, I suppose, ready to sink, offered me a chair; upon
which I unconsciously dropped, still unable to withdraw my gaze from my
apostate friend. Presently I almost started from my seat as her eye met
mine. Her deepening colour alone told that she recognized me; for she
instantly turned away.
Indignation now began to displace the stupor which had seized me. 'Shall
I let this unfeeling creature see,' thought I, 'that she has power to
move me thus? Or shall I tamely slink away, as if it were I who should
dread the glance of reproach?--as if it were I who had stabbed the heart
which trusted me?' My breast swelling with pain, pride, and resentment,
I arose; and walking across the shop with steps as stately as if I had
been about to purchase all the splendours it contained, I began to
transact the business which brought me thither. My attention, however,
was so much pre-occupied, that I was scarcely sensible of surprise when
the jeweller named five-and-twenty pounds as the price of my ring; a sum
less than one third of what I had expected.
I now perceived that Miss Arnold accompanied Lady Maria de Burgh. They
talked familiarly together, and I was probably their subject; for Lady
Maria stared full upon me, though her companion did not venture another
glance towards the spot where I stood. Not satisfied with her arrogant
scrutiny, Lady Maria, as if curious to know whether I were the buyer or
the seller, made some pretence for approaching close to me, though
without any sign of recognition. I had a hundred times abjured my enmity
to Lady Maria. I had wept over it as ungrateful, unchristian. In
cool-blooded solitude I had vowed a hundred times, that, having been
forgiven a debt of ten thousand talents, I would never more wrangle for
trifles with my fellow-servants. But when I was fretted with the insults
of strangers, and sore with the unkindness of my early friend, when
perhaps my pride was wounded by the circumstances in which she was about
to detect me, her Ladyship's little impertinence, attacking me on the
weak side, stirred at once the gall of my temper. Suspending a bargain
which, indeed, I did not wish her to witness, 'Pray,' said I to the
shopman, 'attend in the first place to that lady's business; if indeed
she has any except to pry into mine.'
Lady Maria, who knew by experience that she was no match for me in a war
of words, muttered something, and retreated, tossing her pretty head
with disdain. Eager to be gone, I closed with the offer which had been
made for my ring; and after delays which I thought almost endless, had
received my money, and was about to depart, when Miss Arnold, who was in
close conversation with her companion, in a distant part of the shop,
suddenly advanced, as if with an intention to accost me. I was
breathless with agitation and resentment. 'I will be cool, scornfully
cool,' thought I; 'I will show her that I can forget all my long-tried
affection, and remember only----' I turned away, and remembrance wrung
tears from me. But the formal effrontery with which she addressed me
restored in a moment my fortitude and my indignation. She excused
herself for not speaking to me sooner, by asserting that she 'really had
not observed me.'
Scorning the paltry falsehood, 'That is no wonder, Miss Arnold,'
answered I, 'for I am much lessened since you saw me last.'
I was moving away; but Miss Arnold, who had probably received her
instructions, detained me. 'Do stay a few minutes,' said she coaxingly,
'I have a great deal to say to you. Lady Maria will be here for an hour,
for she and Glendower are choosing their wedding finery; so if you lodge
any way hereabouts, I can take the carriage and set you down.'
The days of my credulous inadvertence were past; and, at once perceiving
the drift of this proposal, I answered with ineffable scorn, 'If you or
Lady Maria have any curiosity to know my present situation, you may be
gratified without hazarding your reputation by being seen with a
runaway. I live with Miss Mortimer.'
I think Miss Arnold had the grace to blush, but I did not wait to
examine. I hurried away; threw myself into the first hackney coach I
could find; and returned home, exhausted and dispirited. I was
dissatisfied with myself. The time had been when I should have thought
the impertinence of a rival, the cool effrontery and paltry cunning of
Miss Arnold, sufficient justification of any degree of resentment or
contempt; but now I needed only the removal of temptation to remind me
how unsuitable were scorn and anger to the circumstances of one who was
herself so undeservedly, so lately, and still so imperfectly reclaimed.
I firmly resolved, that if ever I should again meet Miss Arnold or her
new protectress, I should treat them with that cool, guarded courtesy
which is the unalienable right of all human kind. The strength of this
resolution was not immediately tried. All my resentments had time to
subside before I again saw or heard of my false friend.
Indeed, my seclusion now became more complete than ever; for Miss
Mortimer's malady, the increase of which she had hitherto endeavoured to
conceal from me, suddenly became so severe as to baffle all disguise.
Yet it was no expression of impatience which betrayed her. For four
months I scarcely quitted her bed-side, by day or by night. During this
long protracted season of suffering, neither cry nor groan escaped her.
Often have I wiped the big drops of agony from her forehead; but she
never complained. She was more than patient; the settled temper of her
mind was thankfulness. The decay of its prison-house seemed only to give
the spirit a foretaste for freedom. Timid by nature, beyond the usual
fearfulness of her sex, she yet endured pain, not with the iron
contumacy of a savage, but with the submission of filial love. The
approach of death she watched more in the spirit of the conqueror than
the victim; yet she expressed her willingness to linger on till
suffering should have extinguished every tendency to self-will, and
helplessness should have destroyed every vestige of pride. Her desire
was granted. Her trials brought with them an infallible token that they
came from a Father's hand; for her character, excellent as it had
seemed, was exalted by suffering; and that which in life was lovely, was
in death sublime.
At last, the great work was finished. Her education for eternity was
completed; and, from the severe lessons of this land of discipline, she
was called to the boundless improvement, the intuitive knowledge, the
glorious employments of her Father's house. One morning, after more than
ordinary suffering, I saw her suddenly relieved from pain; and, grasping
at a deceitful hope, I looked forward to no less than years of her
prolonged life. But she was not so deceived. With pity she beheld my
short-sighted reasoning. 'Dear child,' said she, 'must that sanguine
spirit cheat thee to the end? Think not now of wishing for my
life,--pray rather that my death may profit thee.' She paused for a
moment, and then added emphatically, 'Do you not every morning pray for
a blessing on the events which _that day_ will produce?'
Long as I had anticipated this sentence, it was more than I could bear.
'This day! this very day!' I cried. 'It cannot,--it shall not be. It is
sinful in you thus to limit your days! this very day! oh, I will not
believe it;' and I threw myself upon my friend's death-bed in an agony
which belied my words.
She gently reproved my vehemence. 'Ellen, my dear Ellen, my friend, my
comforter, how can you lament my release? Your affection has been a
blessing in my time of trial,--will you let it disturb the hour of my
rejoicing? Had I been necessary to you, my child, I hope I could have
wished for your sake to linger here; but "one thing"--only one--"is
needful." That one you have received,--and when the light of heaven has
risen upon you, can you mourn, that one feeble spark is darkened?'
The physicians, whom I sent in haste to summon, came only to confirm her
prediction. She forced them to number the hours she had to live; and
heard with a placid smile that the morning's sun would rise in vain for
her. She bade farewell to them and to her attendants, bestowing, with
her own hand, some small memorial upon each; then gently dismissed all,
except myself and the hereditary servant who had grown old with her, and
who now watched the close of a life which she had witnessed from its
beginning. 'I saw her baptism,' said the faithful creature to me, the
big tears rolling down her furrowed face, 'and now--but it is as the
Lord will.'
By my dying friend's own desire, she was visited by the clergyman upon
whose ministry she had attended; and with him she conversed with her
accustomed serenity, directing his attention to some of her own poor,
who were likely to become more destitute by her loss; and affectionately
commending to his care the unfortunate girl whom her death was to cast
once more friendless upon the world.
While he read to her the office for the sick, she listened with the
steady attention of a mind in its full strength. When he came to the
words, 'Thou hast been my hope from my youth!'--'Yes!' said she; 'He has
indeed been my hope from my youth. He blessed the prayers and the
labours of my parents, so that I never remember a time when I could rest
in any other trust; yet, till now, I never knew that hope in its full
strength and brightness.' Then laying her hand, now chill with the damps
of death, upon my arm, she said with great energy, 'Ellen, I trust I can
triumphantly appeal to you whether our blessed faith brings not comfort
unspeakable;--but how strong, how suitable, how glorious its
consolations are, you will never know, till, like me, you are bereft of
all others, and, like me, find them sufficient, when all others fail.'
Towards evening her voice became feeble, she breathed with pain, and all
her bodily powers seemed to decay. But that which was heaven-born was
imperishable. The love of God and man remained unshaken. Complaining
that her mind was grown too feeble to form a connected prayer, she bade
me repeat to her the triumphant strains in which David exults in the
care of the Good Shepherd. When I had ended, 'Yes,' said she; 'He knows
how to comfort me in the dark valley, for He has trod it before me;--and
what am I that I should die amidst the cares of kind friends, and He
amidst the taunts of his enemies! Ellen your mind is entire;--thank Him,
thank Him fervently for me, that I am mercifully dealt with.'
As I knelt down to obey her, she laid her hand upon my head as if to
bless me. At first, she repeated after me the expressions which pleased
her, afterwards single words, then, after a long interval, the name of
Him in whom she trusted. When I rose from my knees, her eyes were
closed,--the hand which had been lifted in prayer was sunk upon her
breast. A smile of triumph lingered on her face. It was the beam of a
sun that had set. The saint had entered into rest.