_----She hath ta'en farewell.----
Upon her hearth the fire is dead,
The smoke in air hath vanished.
The last long lingering look is given;
The shuddering start! the inward groan!
And the pilgrim on her way is gone._
John Wilson.
As I tore myself from the remains of my friend, I felt that I had
nothing more to lose. My soul, which had so obstinately clung to the
earth, had no longer whereon to fix her hold. Words cannot describe the
moment when, having assisted in the last sad office of woman, I was led
from the chamber of death to wander through my desolate dwelling. Man
cannot utter what I felt when I left the grave of my friend, and turned
me to the solitary wilderness again.
Yet even the agony of my grief had no likeness to the stern horror which
had once overwhelmed my soul. I was in sorrow indeed, but not in
despair; I was lonely, but not forsaken. My interests in this scene of
things were shaken,--were changed,--but not annihilated; for the world
can never be a desert while gladdened by the sensible presence of its
Maker; nor life be a blank to one who acts for eternity. The mere effort
to become resigned, forbade the listlessness of despair; and even
partial success gave some relief from uniformity of anguish. But I was
new to the lesson of resignation, and as yet faintly imbued with that
spirit which accepts with filial thankfulness the chastisements of a
father. The accents of submission were choked by those of sorrow; and
when I tried to say, 'Thy will be done,' I could only bow my head and
weep.
It was not till the first bitterness of grief was past, that I
recollected all the cause I had to grieve. My first feeling of
desolateness was scarcely heightened by the reflection, that I was once
more cast upon the world without refuge or means of subsistence. A few
days after the death of my friend, her legal heir arrived to assert his
rights; and the will by which she had intended to secure in her cottage
a shelter for her old servant and myself was too informal to entitle us
to resist his more valid claim. The will was written with Miss
Mortimer's own hand, and expressed with all the touching solemnity of a
last address to the object of strong affection. To resist it, seemed to
me an instance of almost impious hardness of heart; and when the heir,
fretted perhaps by finding his inheritance fall so far below his
expectations, gave me notice, that I must either purchase the remainder
of the lease, or, within a month, seek another habitation, I resolved
that I would owe nothing to the forbearance of a being so callous;--that
I would instantly resign to him whatever the relentless law made his
own.
But whither could I go? I was as friendless as the first outcast that
was driven forth a wanderer. I had no claim of gratitude, relationship,
or intimacy on any living being. The few friends of my mother who had
visited me after my return from school, I had neglected as persons of a
character too grave, and of habits too retiring for the circle in which
I desired to move. In that circle, a few months had sufficed to procure
me some hundreds of acquaintances; ages probably would not have
furnished me with one friend. My own labour, therefore, was now become
my only means of obtaining shelter or subsistence; and, foreign as the
effort was to all my habits, the struggle must be made. But how was I to
direct my attempts? What channel had the customs of society left open to
the industry of woman? The only one which seemed within my reach was the
tuition of youth; and I felt myself less dependent when I recollected my
thorough knowledge of music, and my acquaintance with other arts of
idleness. When, indeed, I considered how small a part of the education
of a rational and accountable being I was after all fitted to undertake,
I shrunk from the awful responsibility of the charge, and I fear pride
was still more averse to the task than principle; but there seemed no
alternative, and my plan was fixed.
To enter on a state of dependence amidst scenes which had witnessed my
better fortunes,--to be recognised in a condition little removed from
servitude by those who had seen me at the summit of prosperity,--to
meet scorn in the glances of once envious rivals,--and pity in the eye
of once rejected lovers, would have furnished exercise for more humility
than I had yet attained. Almost the first resolution which I formed on
the subject was, that the scene of my labours should be far distant from
London. Other circumstances in the situation which I was about to seek,
I determined not to weigh too fastidiously; for though the most
ambiguous praise from a person of fashion is often thought sufficient
introduction to the most momentous of trusts, I had seen enough of the
world to know, that it would be difficult to obtain the office of a
teacher upon the mere strength of my acquaintance with what I pretended
to teach; and I was resolved to owe no recommendation to any of those
summer friends, by whom I seemed now utterly neglected and forgotten.
To the clergyman, whose compassion my dying friend had claimed for me, I
explained my situation and my purpose. He showed me every kindness which
genuine benevolence could dictate,--offered to write in my behalf to a
married sister settled in a remote part of the kingdom,--and invited me
to reside in his family till I found a preferable situation.
Meanwhile, a most unexpected occurrence placed me beyond the reach of
immediate want. Among Miss Mortimer's papers was found a sealed packet
addressed to me. It enclosed a bank-bill for 300_l._; and in the
envelope these words were written:--
'My dear Ellen, use the enclosed sum without scruple and without
enquiry; for it is your own. Mine it never was, and none else has
any claim upon it. It came into my possession within this hour,
from whence you may never know; but I will conceal it till all is
over, lest you squander upon the dying that which the living will
need.
'E. MORTIMER.'
I instantly conjectured that this sum was the gift of Mr Maitland. 'And
yet,' said I to myself, 'he has no interest in me now, except such as he
would take in any one whom he thought unfortunate. Perhaps--if I could
see his letters to Miss Mortimer--but I am sure his sentiments are of no
consequence to me,--only, if this money be really his, I ought
undoubtedly to restore it; and this from no impulse of pride certainly.
Is there not a wide difference between humility and meanness?'
Persuading myself, that it was quite necessary to ascertain the true
owner of the money, I obtained permission to examine the correspondence
which my friend had left behind. I found it to contain many letters from
Mr Maitland, but only one in which I was mentioned, otherwise than in
the words of common courtesy; and of that one, the tantalising caution
of my friend had spared only the following fragment:--
'I will not be dazzled by your pictures of your young friend's
improvement. I consider, that while you are drawing them, she is before
you; turning up her transparent cheek as she used to do, and looking up
in your face half sideways through her long black eyelashes, with that
air of arch ingenuousness that must tempt you to give her credit for
every virtue. I will not allow your partiality to blind me nor yourself
to the probability, that all her apparent progress is not real. Ellen
has warm passions and a vivid imagination; therefore, it is impossible
that she should fail to receive a strong impression from events which
have changed the whole colour of her fate. But the passions and the
imagination are not the seat of religion. Besides, admitting that she
has received a new principle of action, we must recollect, that pride
and self-indulgence are not to be cured in an hour; nor can the opposite
virtues spring without culture. The principle which guides our habits
may be suddenly changed; and perhaps no means is more frequently
employed for this change than severe calamity: but our habits themselves
are of slow growth; slowly the seeds of evil are eradicated; laboriously
the good ground is prepared; watered with the dews of heaven, the good
seed, in progress that baffles human observation, advances from the
feeble germ that scarcely rears itself from the dust, to the mature
plant which bringeth forth an hundred fold. So you see, my good friend,
I am determined to be wise; to read your encomiums with allowance; and,
having painfully escaped from danger, to be cautious how I tempt it
again.
'The execution of my present plans must detain me in exile for years to
come; otherwise I could dream of a time when, having vanquished the
power of that strange girl over my happiness, I might venture to watch
over hers, perhaps be permitted to aid her improvement. I think I had
some slight influence over her. If it were fit that a social being
should waste feeling and affection in dreams, I could dream delightfully
of----'
'Of what?' thought I, when I reached this provoking interruption,--and I
too began to dream. 'Does he still love me?' I asked myself. 'Can the
grave, wise Mr Maitland still remember the rosy cheek and the long black
eyelashes? Can he do no more than fly from his bane, but long after it
still?' In spite of the regulations under which I had laid my heart,--in
spite of the sorrow which weighed heavily upon it, the spirit of Ellen
Percy fluttered in it for a moment. 'But why should I smile at his
weakness, though I am myself exempt from that strange whim called love.
Yes, certainly, for ever exempt. I have not withstood Maitland to be won
by the monkey tricks and mawkish commonplace of ordinary men. "Power
over his happiness!" But for this strange coldness of heart, and my own
unpardonable folly, I might have made him happy. But that is all over
now. Now I can only wish and pray for his happiness. And if it be
necessary to his peace that he forget me, I will pray that he may. No
one heart on earth will then, indeed, beat warm to me; but the earth and
all that it contains will soon pass away.'--And I shed some tears either
over the transitory nature of all things here below, or over some
reflection not quite so well defined.
Having perused the mutilated letter more than once, and finding my
curiosity rather stimulated than gratified by the perusal, I certainly
did not relax in the diligence with which I examined my friend's
repositories. But I could not discover one line from Mr Maitland of a
later date than six months before the death of Miss Mortimer; and I
recollected, that though she regularly received his letters, and
affected no mystery in regard to them, she never desired me to read
them, but often in my presence destroyed them with her own hand. For the
preservation of the fragment I seemed indebted to accident alone; and I
more than half suspected, that Mr Maitland's later correspondence had
purposely been concealed from the one who formed its principal subject.
I wondered at my friend's caution. 'Could she know me so little,'
thought I, 'as to fear that I should be infected by this folly of
Maitland's?--That I should be won by this involuntary second-hand sort
of courtship?--That I should be mean enough to like a man who in a
manner rejected me?' But whatever was the motive of Miss Mortimer's
caution, she had left no indication of Mr Maitland's present sentiments
towards me; nor any clue by which I could trace to him the source of my
unexpected wealth.
Still I scarcely doubted, that I owed my three hundred pounds to the
generosity of Maitland, and I often thought of restoring the money to
him; since, considering the terms upon which we had parted, few things
could be more humiliating for me than to become a pensioner on his
bounty. But I was restrained from writing to him, by the fear that, as
possibly he had never intended to offer me such a gift, he might
consider my addressing him upon the subject as a mere device, to obtain
the renewal of an intercourse which he had voluntarily renounced.
Besides, Miss Mortimer's bequest furnished my only means of discharging
another debt which had long occasioned me more mortification than I
could have suffered from any obligation to Mr Maitland. My degrading
debt to Lord Frederick was still unpaid; and my deliverance from
absolute and immediate want was less gratifying to me, than the power of
escaping from obligation to a wretch who had given proof of such
heartless selfishness. I, therefore, resolved to comply with my friend's
injunction to use without further enquiry the money which had so
providentially been placed within my reach; and the first purpose to
which it was devoted, was the repayment of Lord Frederick's loan, with
every shilling of interest to which law could have entitled him. The
remainder I could not help dividing with Miss Mortimer's old servant; as
the poor creature, who had grown grey in the family of my friend, had
been deprived of the bequest by which her mistress had intended to
acknowledge her services. The purchase of a few decencies which my own
wardrobe required, and the expense of a plain grave-stone to mark the
resting-place of the best of women, reduced my possessions to thirty
pounds. With this provision, which, small as it was, I owed to most
singular good fortune, I was obliged to quit the asylum which had
sheltered me from my bitterest sorrow, and had witnessed my most
substantial joys; the home which was endeared to me by the kindness of a
lost friend,--the birth-place of my better being,--the spot which was
hallowed by my first worship.
It was on a stormy winter night, I remember it well, that I turned
weeping from the door of my only home. All day I had wandered through
the cottage; I had sat by my friend's death-bed, and laid my head upon
her pillow. I had placed her chair as she was wont to place it; had
realised her presence in every well known spot, and bidden her a
thousand and a thousand times farewell. When I left the house, the
closing door sounded as drearily as the earth which I had heard rattle
on her coffin. It seemed the signal, that I was shut out from all
familiar sights and sounds for ever. The storm that was beating on me
became, by a natural thought, the type of my after life; and when all
there seemed darkness, my mind wandered back to the sorrows of the
past. I recalled another time when the wide earth, which lodges and
supports her children of every various tribe, and opens at least in her
bosom a resting place for them all, contained no home for me. I
remembered a time when I had felt myself alone, though in the presence
of the universal Father,--destitute, in a world stored with his
bounty,--desolate, though Omnipotence was pledged to answer my cry. My
deliverance from this orphan state,--from this disastrous darkness,
rushed upon my mind. I thought upon the mighty transformation which had
gladdened the desert for me, and made the solitary place rejoice. The
cry of thanksgiving burst from my lips, although it died amidst the
storm. 'Oh Thou!' I exclaimed, 'who from pollution didst reclaim,--from
rebellion didst receive,--from despair didst revive me,--let but Thy
presence be with me; and let my path lead where it will!'
As I passed the village churchyard, I turned to visit the grave of her
whom I had lost. The stone had been placed upon it since I had seen it
last; and I felt as if the performance of the last duty had made our
separation more complete. 'And is this all that I can do for thee, my
friend?' said I. 'Are all the kindly charities cut off between us for
ever? Hast thou, who wert so lately alive to the joys and the sorrows of
every living thing, no share in all that is done or suffered here? Hast
thou, who so lately wert my other soul, no feeling now that owns kindred
with any thought of mine?--Yes. On one theme, in one employment we can
sympathise still. We can still worship together.' Kneeling upon the
grave of my last earthly friend, I commended myself to a heavenly one,
and was comforted.