_Not quite an idiot; for her busy brain
Sought, by poor cunning, trifling points to gain;
Success in childish projects her delight._
_----So weak a mind,
No art could lead, and no compulsion bind.
The rudest force would fail such mind to tame,
And she was callous to rebuke and shame._
Crabbe.
Cecil's tale, which included all the evening festivities,--the
ball,--the throwing of the stocking, and the libation of whisky, which
was dashed over the married pair, detained me so long, that Mrs Boswell
and my pupil were at home an hour before me. Mrs Boswell, however,
received me with her usual simper; and suffered the evening to arrive
before she began to investigate, with great contrivance and
circumlocution, the cause of my unusual absence. Though provoked at her
useless cunning, I readily told her where I had been. But, though the
lady had taken me into high favour, and made me the depository of fifty
needless secrets, I saw that she did not believe a word of my statement;
for Mrs Boswell was one of the many whose defects of the head create a
craving for a confidant, while those of the heart will never allow them
to confide. Perceiving that my word was doubted, I disdained further
explanation; and suffered Mrs Boswell to hint and soliloquise without
deigning reply.
The little dingy cloud, which scarcely added to their accustomed
dulness, was beginning to settle on the features of my hostess, when
another attack was made upon her good humour. My pupil, in a romping
humour which I could not always restrain, pulled out the comb that
confined my hair; which unfortunately extorted from Mr Boswell a
compliment on its luxuriance and beauty. Now Mrs Boswell's _chevelure_
happened to have an unlucky resemblance to that of a dancing-bear; a
circumstance which I verily believe her poor husband had forgotten, when
he incautiously expressed admiration of auburn curls. The lady's face
was for once intelligible; her lips grew actually livid; and for some
moments she seemed speechless. At last she broke forth. 'Her hair may
well be pretty,' said she; 'I am sure it costs her pains enough.'
With a smile, more I fear of sarcasm than of good-humour, I thanked her
for helping me to some merit, where I was ignorant that I could claim
any. Mrs Boswell, either fearing to measure her powers of impertinence
with mine, or finding sullenness the most natural expression of her
displeasure, made no reply; but sat for a full hour twisting the corner
of her pocket-handkerchief, without raising her eyes, or uttering a
syllable. At last, she suddenly recovered her spirits; and for the rest
of the evening was remarkably gracious and entertaining.
I was not yet sufficiently acquainted with Mrs Boswell to perceive any
thing ominous in this change. The next day, however, while I was alone
with my pupil, the child began to frolic round me with a pair of
scissors in her hand; making a feint, as if in sport, to cut off my
hair. A little afraid of such a play-thing, I desired her to desist;
speaking to her, as I always did, in a tone of kindness. 'Would you be
very sorry,' said she, clasping her arms round my neck, and speaking in
a half whisper, 'very, very sorry if all your pretty curls were cut
off?'
'Indeed, Jessie,' answered I smiling, 'I am afraid I should; more sorry
than the matter would deserve.'
'Then,' cried the child, throwing away the scissors, 'I won't never cut
off your hair; not though I should be bid a thousand thousand times.'
'Bid!' repeated I, thrown off my guard by astonishment; 'who could bid
you do such a thing?'
'Ah! I must not tell you that, unless you were to promise upon your
word----'
'No,' interrupted I. 'Do not tell me. Be honourable in this at least.
And another time, if you wish to injure me, do so openly. I will endure
all the little evil in your power to inflict, rather than you should
grow up in the habits of cunning.'
That a mother should thus lay a snare for the rectitude of her child,
must have appeared incredible, could the fact have admitted of a doubt.
I had still too many faults myself to look with calmness upon those of
others; and I was seriously angry. 'How is it possible,' thought I, 'to
form in this child the habits of rectitude, while I am thus provokingly
counteracted; and useless as I am compelled to be, how can I endure to
receive the bread of dependence from a creature whose mischief has
neither bound nor excuse, except in the weakness of her understanding?'
In the height of my indignation, I resolved to upbraid Mrs Boswell with
her baseness and folly, and then resign my hopeless task. But I had so
often and so severely smarted for acting under irritation, that the
lesson had at length begun to take effect; and I recollected that it
might be wise to defer my remonstrances till I could suppress a temper
which was likely to render them both imprudent and useless. I fear my
forbearance was somewhat aided by considering the consequences of
renouncing my present situation. However, when I was cool, I conducted
my reproofs with what I thought great address. I hid my offending
ringlets under a cap, and never more exposed them to the admiration of
Mr Boswell. It would have been mere waste of oratory to harangue to Mrs
Boswell upon the meanness of artifice; and rather uncivil, all things
considered, to talk to her of its inseparable connection with folly; but
I represented to her, that the time might come when her daughter would
turn against her the arts which she had taught. A fool can never divest
an argument of its reference to one particular case. 'If she should cut
off my hair,' said the impracticable Mrs Boswell, 'I shan't care much,
for wigs are coming into fashion.'
'But if even in trifles she learn to betray, how can you be sure that,
in the most important concerns of life, she will not play the
traitress?'
'Oh no fear,' cried Mrs Boswell, nodding her head as she always did when
she meant to look sagacious; 'I shall be too knowing for her, I
warrant.'
'A blessed emulation!' thought I.
Our dialogue was interrupted by the entrance of Mr Boswell, whose
features seemed animated by some incipient scheme. He took his place
beside his mate, and forthwith began to toy and flatter; looking,
however, as if he would fain have ventured to change the subject. At
length the secret came forth. He had met a college companion, with whom
he had a great inclination to dine that day. Mrs Boswell said nothing;
but she looked denial. Mr Boswell sat silent for a little, and then
renewed his manoeuvres. The praises of a favourite cap soothed the lady
into quiescence; for good-humour is too lively a term to express the
more amiable turns of Mrs Boswell's temper. The petitioner seized the
favourite moment. 'I should really like to dine with poor Tom Hamilton
to-day,' said he.
'Poor fiddlesticks!' returned the polite wife. 'What have you to do
dining with Tom Hamilton?'
'I don't know, my love: we have not met for twenty years; and he pressed
me so much to come and talk over old stories, that--that I was obliged
to give him a kind of half-promise.'
'Nonsense!' quoth the lady, with a decisive tone and aspect; and poor Mr
Boswell, with a sigh of resignation, moved his chair towards the
fire-place, and began to draw figures in the ashes.
Whether this operation assisted his courage, I know not; but, in about
ten minutes, he told me, in a half whisper, 'that, if I would entertain
Mrs Boswell, he rather thought he would dine with Tom Hamilton.'
'And why should you not? For a husband to go out, it is sufficient that
he wills it,' said I; parodying a maxim which was at that time the
watchword of a more important revolt. I fancy the smile which
accompanied my words was, for the moment, more terrific to Mr Boswell
than his lady's frown, for he instantly left us; and having secured his
retreat beyond the door, put his head back into the room, saying, with a
farewell nod, and a voice of constrained ease. '_Au revoir_, my darling!
I dine with Hamilton.'
'Why, Mr Boswell!' screamed the wife, in a tone between wrath and
amazement; but the rebel was beyond recall.
The lady was forthwith invested with an obstinate fit of the sullens.
Considering me as the cause of her husband's misconduct, she suffered
dinner and some succeeding hours to pass without deigning me even a look
or a word. My forte, certainly, was not submission; therefore, after
speaking to her once or twice without receiving an answer, I made no
further effort to soothe her, but amused myself with reading, work, or
music, exactly as if Mrs Boswell's chair had been vacant. She made
several attempts to disturb my amusement: she spilled the ink upon my
clothes. But though she made no apology, I assured her, with wicked
good-humour, that a farthing's worth of spirit of salt would repair the
disaster. She beat poor Fido; yet even this did not provoke me to speak.
She could not make me angry; because, by showing me that such was her
purpose, she engaged my pride to disappoint her. Left to itself, her
temper at last made a tolerable recovery; or, rather, she spared me,
that she might discharge its full venom upon Mr Boswell.
At a late hour the culprit returned; fortified, as it appeared, by a
double allowance of claret, but in high spirits and good-humour.
Forgetting that he was in disgrace, he walked as directly as he could
towards his offended fair; and, with a look of stupid kindness, offered
her his hand. The lady flounced away with great disdain. 'Come now, my
darling,' stammered the husband, coaxingly; 'don't be cross. Be a good
girl, and give me a kiss.'
'Brute!' replied the judicious wife, giving him a push, which, with the
help of the extra bottle, made him stagger to the other side of the
room. There he placed himself beside me; protesting that I was a sweet,
lovely, good-humoured creature, and that he was sure I had never been
out of temper in my life; with many other equally well-turned
compliments. This was the consummation of his misdeeds. Mrs Boswell
pulled the bell till the wire broke. 'Put that creature to bed,' said
she to the servant; 'don't you see he's not fit to be any where else?'
Mr Boswell was not so much intoxicated as to be insensible to this
indignity, which he angrily resisted; while, shocked and disgusted
beyond expression, I escaped from the scene of this disgraceful
altercation.
The next day Mrs Boswell had recourse, as usual, to silent sullenness;
to which she added another mode of tormenting. She constantly held her
handkerchief to her eyes, and affected to shed tears. All this, however,
was reserved for Mr Boswell's presence, as she soon discovered that it
was needless to waste either anger or sensibility upon me. Lest her
distress should not sufficiently aggravate the culprit's self-reproach,
she pretended that her health was affected by her feelings. It was
always one of her Lilliputian ambitions to obtain the reputation of a
feeble appetite. But now this infirmity increased to such a degree, that
Mrs Boswell absolutely could not swallow a morsel; nor, which was much
worse, could she see food tasted by another without demonstrations of
loathing. Nevertheless, she regularly appeared at table; and, for three
days, every meal was disquieted by the landlady's disgust at our
voracity.
Poor Mr Boswell, now completely quelled, did what man could do to
restore peace and appetite. He coaxed, entreated; and offered her, I
believe, all the compounds recorded in all the cookery books; but in
vain. Deaf as the coldest damsel of romance to the prayer of offending
love was Mrs Boswell. She retained her youthful passion for sweetmeats;
and her good-natured husband came one morning into her dressing-room
fraught with such variety of confections, that I was surprised at the
self-command with which she refused them all. I could not help laughing
to see him court the great baby with sugar-plums; she answering, like
any other spoilt child, only by twisting her face, and thrusting forward
her shoulder; nor was my gravity at all improved when Fido, making his
way into some concealment, drew forth the remains of a portly sirloin.
Mr Boswell looked as if he would fain have joined in my laugh; but he
foresaw the coming storm, and prudently effected his retreat. Mrs
Boswell's face grew livid with rage. She snatched the poker; and would
have struck the poor animal dead, had I not arrested her arm. 'Stop,
woman!' said I, in a voice at which I myself was almost startled;
'degrade yourself no further.' It is not the rage of such a creature as
Mrs Boswell that can resist the voice of stern authority. Her eye fixed
by mine as by the gaze of a rattle-snake, she timidly laid aside her
weapon; and shrunk back, muttering that she did not mean to hurt my dog.
From that time Mrs Boswell discovered a degree of enmity towards the
poor animal, which I could not have imagined even her to feel towards
any thing less than a moral agent. Not that she avowed her antipathy;
but I now knew her well enough to detect it even in the caresses which
she bestowed on him. She was constantly treading on him, scalding him,
tormenting him in every possible way, all by mere accident; and if I
left him within her reach, I was sure to be recalled by his howlings.
The poor animal cowered at the very sight of her. At last he was
provoked to avail himself of his natural means of defence; and one
evening, when she had risen from her sofa on purpose to stumble over
him, he bit her to the bone.
The moment she recovered from the panic and confusion which this
accident occasioned, she insisted upon having the animal destroyed, upon
the vulgar plea, that, if he should ever go mad, she must immediately be
affected with hydrophobia. Pitying her uneasiness, I at first tried to
combat this ridiculous idea; but I soon found that she was determined to
resist conviction. 'All I said might be true, but she had heard of such
things; and, for her part, she should never know rest or peace, while
the life of that animal left the possibility of such a horrible
catastrophe.' At last I was obliged to tell her peremptorily that
nothing should induce me to permit the destruction of my poor old
favourite,--the relic of better times, the last of my friends. I
humoured her folly, however, so far as to promise that I would find a
new abode for him on the following day. Mrs Boswell was relentlessly
sullen all the evening; but I was inflexible.
The only way which occurred to me of disposing of poor Fido was to
commit him to the care of Cecil Graham, at least till she should leave
Edinburgh. In the morning, therefore, I prepared for a walk, intending
to convey my favourite to his new protectress. My pupil was, as usual
eager to accompany me; and when I refused to permit her, she took the
course which had often led her to victory elsewhere, and began to cry
bitterly. This, however, was less effectual with me than with her
mother. I persisted in my refusal; telling her that her tears only gave
me an additional motive for doing so, since I loved her too well to
encourage her in fretfulness and self-will. Mrs Boswell, however, moved
somewhat by her child's lamentations, but more by rivalry towards me,
soothed and caressed the little rebel; and finally insisted that I
should yield the point. Angry as I was, I commanded my temper
sufficiently to let the mother legislate for her child; and submitted in
silence. But when we were about to set out, Fido was no where to be
found. After seeking him in vain, I would have given up my expedition;
but Mrs Boswell would not suffer Jessie to be disappointed, so we
departed.
I found Cecil's apartment vacant, and all its humble furniture removed.
I comprehended that she had returned to her native wilds; and I felt
that the connection must be slight indeed which we can without pain see
broken for ever! She was gone, and had not left among the thousands,
whose hum even now broke upon my ear, one being who would bestow upon me
a wish or a care. 'Poor feeble Ellen!' said I to myself, as I dashed the
tears from my eyes, 'where foundest thou the disastrous daring which
could once renounce the charities of nature, and spurn the intercourse
of thy kind?'
A natural feeling leading me to enquire into the particulars of Cecil's
departure, I made my way to an adjoining apartment, which was occupied
by another family.
On my first entrance, the noisome atmosphere almost overcame me; and,
unwilling to expose my little charge to its effects, I desired her to
remain without, and wait my return; but her morning's lesson of
disobedience had not been lost, and I presently found her at my side.
In answer to my enquiries, the people of the house told me that Cecil
had been gone for several days; but as to the particulars of her fate,
they showed an ignorance and unconcern scarcely credible in persons who
had lived under the same roof. Disgusted with all I saw, I was turning
away; when a groan, which seemed to issue from a darker part of the
room, drew my steps towards a wretched bed, where lay a young woman in
the last stage of disease. I had enquired whether she had any medical
assistance, and been answered that she had none,--I had bent over her
for some minutes, touched the parched skin, and tried to count the
fluttering pulse--before, my eye accommodating itself to the obscurity,
I perceived the unconscious gaze and flushed cheek which indicate
delirious fever. I turned hastily away; but more serious alarm took
possession of me, when I observed that my pupil had followed me close to
the bed-side, and in childish curiosity was inhaling the very breath of
infection. I instantly hurried her away, and returned home.
Though expecting that Mrs Boswell would throw upon me the blame which
more properly belonged to herself, I did not hesitate to acquaint her
with this accident; begging her to advise with the family surgeon
whether any antidote could still be applied. But Mrs Boswell was touched
with a more lively alarm than poor Jessie's danger could awaken. 'Bless
me!' she cried, 'did you touch the woman? Pray don't come near me.
Campbell! get me ever so much vinegar. Pray go away, Miss Percy. I would
not be near a person that had the fever for the whole world.'
'Were every one of your opinion, madam,' said I, 'a fever would be
almost as great a misfortune as infamy itself; but since you are so
apprehensive, Jessie and I will remain above stairs for the rest of the
day.'
At the door of my apartment I found poor Fido extended, stiff and
motionless. Startled by somewhat unnatural in his posture, I called to
him. The poor animal looked at me, but did not stir. 'Fido!' I called
again, stooping to pat his head. He looked up once more; wagged his
tail; gave a short low whine; and died.
Many would smile were I to describe what I felt at that moment; and yet
I believe there are none who could unmoved lose the last memorial of
friend and parent, or part unmoved with the creature which had sported
with their infancy, and grown old beneath their care. Fido was my last
earthly possession. Besides him I had nothing. I thank Heaven that the
greater part of my kind must look back to the deprivations of early
childhood, ere they can know what a melancholy value this single
circumstance gives to what is in itself of little worth.
My feelings took a new turn, when it suddenly occurred to me that my
poor old favourite owed his death not to disease, but to poison. His
appearance, as well as the suddenness of his death, confirmed the
suspicion. Strong indignation already working in my breast, I hastened
to question the servants. They all denied the deed; but with such
reservations, as showed me that they at least guessed at the
perpetrator. Breathless with resentment, and with a vain desire to vent
it all, yet to vent it calmly, I entered Mrs Boswell's apartment, and
steadily questioned her upon the fact. Mrs Boswell forgot her late
alarm, or rather my flashing eye was for a moment an over-match for the
fever. She changed colour more than once; but she answered me with that
forced firmness of gaze, which often indicates determined falsehood.
'She could not imagine who could do such a thing. She could not believe
that the animal was poisoned. She did not suppose that any of the
servants would venture. In short, she was persuaded that Fido died a
natural death.'
'That shall be examined into,' said I, still looking at her in stern
enquiry. Again she changed colour, and resumed her denials, but with a
more restless and evasive aspect. Presently my glance followed hers to
some papers which lay upon the table. I saw her as if by accident cover
them with her hand, then dexterously throw them upon the ground; and she
was just endeavouring to conceal them with her foot when I snatched up
one of them. I observed that it had been the envelope of a small parcel;
and turning the reverse, saw that it was marked with the word 'arsenic.'
Dumb for a moment with unutterable scorn, I merely presented the paper
to Mrs Boswell, and hearing her stammer out some lying explanation,
turned in disgust away. But indignation again supplied me with words.
'Find another instructor for your child, Mrs Boswell,' said I; 'I will
no longer tell her to despise treachery, and falsehood, and cruelty,
lest I teach her to scorn her mother.'
Then, without waiting reply, I left the room.
'Dost thou well to be angry?' said my conscience, as soon as she had
time to speak. I answered, as every angry woman will answer, 'Yes. I do
well to be angry. Vile were the spirit that would not stir against such
inhuman baseness!' This was well spoken,--perhaps it was well felt. Yet
I would advise all lofty spirits to be abstemious in their use of noble
indignation. It borders too nearly on their prevailing sin.
I soon recollected, that I had renounced my only means of support; but
it is a feeble passion which cannot justify its own acts. 'Better so,'
said I, 'than receive the bread of dependence from one whom I ought to
despise; or cling to an office in which I can perform nothing.'
I began, however, to look with some uneasiness to the consequences of my
rashness. I had neither home, property, nor friends. That which gives
independence--the only real independence--to the poorest menial, was
wanting to me; for I had neither strength for bodily labour, nor
resolution to endure want. Nor could I claim the irresistible
consolation of tracing, in the circumstances of my lot, the arrangements
of a Father's wisdom. My own temerity had shaped my fate. My own
impatience of human wickedness and folly was about to cut me off from
human support; and I, who had no forbearance for the weakness of my
brethren, was about to try what strength was in myself.
All this might perhaps pass darkly through my mind, but was not
permitted to take a determinate form. The sin, whatever it be, which
easily besets us, is to each of us the arch-deceiver. It is the first
which the Christian renounces in general, the last which he learns to
detect in its particulars. I had resolved to call my self-will 'virtuous
indignation;' for indeed my ruling frailty has had, in its time, as many
styles and titles as any ruler upon earth, though seldom like them
designed by its _Christian_ name.
It was an obvious escape from examining the past, to anticipate the
future. I had some experience of the difficulties which awaited me; and
knew how little my merits, such as they were, would avail towards the
advancement of an unfriended stranger. Yet the fearless buoyancy of my
temper supported me. I had now spent in Mrs Boswell's family three
months of weariness and drudgery, for which I had received no
remuneration; I concluded, of course, that she was my debtor for some
return, however small. Upon this sum I expected to subsist till some
favourable change should take place in my situation. How or whence this
change should come, I fancy I should have been puzzled to divine; so I
was content with assuring myself that come it certainly would.
At the beginning of my connection with Mrs Boswell, I had, with more
politeness than prudence, submitted the recompense of my services to her
decision. From that time she seemed to have forgotten the subject; and
delicacy, or perhaps pride, forbade me to bring it to her recollection.
It was now absolutely necessary to surmount this feeling; but it was
surmounted in vain. Mrs Boswell reminded me, that I had stipulated for
protection only; and declared, that she understood me as engaged to
serve her without any other reward. Confounded as I was at her meanness
and effrontery, I yet retained sufficient command of temper to address a
civil appeal to a faculty which, in Mrs Boswell's mind, was an absolute
blank; but argument was vain, and my only resource was an application to
Mr Boswell.
Well knowing that his lady's presence would give a fatal bias to the
scales of justice, I requested to speak with him in private. Unwilling
to shock him by a detail of his wife's baseness, I assigned no reason
for the resolution which I announced of quitting his family. I merely
submitted to his arbitration the misunderstanding which had arisen in
regard to the terms of my servitude. I had reason to be flattered by the
regret, perhaps I might rather say dismay, with which the good man heard
of my intended removal. With every expression of affectionate and
fatherly regard he entreated me to reconsider my purpose. He assured me,
that it was the first wish of his heart that his child should resemble
me; he said, that he could neither hope nor even desire to see another
obtain such influence as I had already gained over her; and that all his
prospects of comfort depended on the use of this influence. 'I need not
affect to disguise from you, my dear Miss Percy,' said he, 'that Mrs
Boswell, however willing, is not likely to assist much in forming
Jessie's temper and manners. The variableness of her spirits----'
'Spirits!' repeated I involuntarily.
'Well,' resumed Mr Boswell with a heavy sigh, 'perhaps I should rather
have said temper. But whatever it be, the more useless it makes her to
Jessie, and the more vexatious to me, the more have we both need of that
delightful gaiety, that blessed sweetness which breathes peace and
cheerfulness wherever you come. Dear Miss Percy, say that you will
remain with my girl, that you will teach her to be as delightful as
yourself, and you will repay me for ten of the most comfortless years
that ever a poor creature spent.'
Somewhat embarrassed by this strange sort of confidence, I answered,
that were I to accept the trust he offered I should only disappoint his
expectations, since all my influence with my pupil was as nothing
compared with that which was thrown into the opposite scale. I therefore
renewed my request, that he would enable me immediately to relinquish my
charge.
Mr Boswell employed all his rhetoric to change my resolution, but I was
inflexible. 'Well, well!' said he at last, with a sigh and a shrug, 'I
see how it is. The same confounded nonsense that has driven every
comfort from my doors for these ten years past is driving you away too.
Well, well! Hang me if I can help it. A man must submit to any thing for
the sake of peace.'
'Undoubtedly,' said I, suppressing a smile; 'while he finds that he
actually reaps that fruit from his submission.'
'Why as to that I can't say much. But bad as matters are, they might be
worse if I were as determined to have my own way as my wife is. I have
tried it once or twice, indeed; but--really her perseverance is most
wonderful!' Mr Boswell pursued the subject at great length; labouring to
convince me, or rather to convince himself, that where submission was
unattainable on the one side, the defect ought to be supplied by the
other; always inferring, from the necessary unhappiness of this
situation, that I ought not, by my departure, to deprive him of his only
remaining comfort. All he could obtain, however, was my consent to
continue in his family for a few days longer. In return, he promised the
full discharge of my claim upon Mrs Boswell, as soon as he should find
means to dispose of such a sum _peaceably_; that is, as soon as he could
by stealth abstract so much of his own property.
I suppose the pleasures of complaint increase in proportion to the folly
and impropriety of complaining. I never could otherwise account for the
frequent lamentations over the perfidy of lovers and the obduracy of
parents; nor imagine any other reason why Mr Boswell, having once
entered on the subject of his conjugal distresses, returned to it on
every possible occasion. In his wife's presence it was recalled to my
recollection by cautious hints, and by significant sighs and looks. In
her absence the theme seemed inexhaustible.
The embarrassment inflicted on me by this continual reference to a
secret was increased, when I perceived that Mrs Boswell, whose jealousy
in this instance supplied her want of penetration, suspected some
intelligence between her husband and myself. She was now, indeed, under
a stubborn fit of taciturnity; but I had at last learnt to read a
countenance which never forsook its stony blank, except to express some
modification of malevolence. I alarmed Mr Boswell into more caution; but
when the lady's suspicions once were roused, it was not in the most
guarded prudence, nor in the most open simplicity of conduct, to lull
them.
Unfortunately Mr Boswell and I soon found a more legitimate subject of
sympathy. The very day after her ill-fated visit to the abode of
disease, poor Jessie showed symptoms of infection; and before the week
expired, was pronounced to be in extreme danger. The mother, on this
occasion, showed a degree of anxiety, which was wonderful in Mrs
Boswell. She sent for nurse after nurse, and for doctors innumerable.
She made diligent enquiry after a fortune-teller, to unveil the fate of
her child; and she actually shed tears when the fire emitted a splinter
which she called a coffin. Stronger minds than Mrs Boswell's become
superstitious, when their most important concerns depend upon
circumstances over which they have no control. Finally, she questioned
every member of the family concerning the best cure for a fever, and
insisted that all their prescriptions should be applied. Fortunately,
however, no consideration could prevail upon her to superintend the
application. To approach the infected chamber, she would have thought
nothing less than _felo de se_;--therefore the poor little sufferer was
spared many unnecessary torments.
Mrs Boswell carried her dread of infection so far, that she would hold
no direct communication with any one who entered the sick room; and she
positively forbade her husband to approach his suffering child. But to
this interdiction the father could not submit. His visits were stolen,
indeed, but they were frequent; and he evinced on these occasions a
sensibility which could scarcely have been expected from the easy
indifference of his general temper. Often, while others were at rest,
did the father hang over the sick bed of his child; offer the draught to
her parched lips; and shed upon her altered face the tear of him who
trembles for his only hope.
To his kindness and his sorrow she was alike insensible. Her fondness
for me seemed the only recollection which her delirium had spared. She
would accept of no sustenance except from my hand. If I was withdrawn
from her sight, her eye wandered in restless search of something
desired; though when I appeared, it often fixed on me with a
heart-breaking vacancy of gaze. Thus circumstanced, I could no longer
think of deserting her. Indeed I never quitted her even for an hour; and
when wearied out I sunk to sleep, it was only to start again at her
slightest summons. These attentions, which I must have been a savage to
withhold, extorted from Mr Boswell the warmest expressions of
gratitude;--gratitude, which springs so readily in every human heart,
yet so rarely takes root there, and so very rarely becomes fruitful.
'God, reward thee, blessed creature!' said he once, when late in the
night we were separating at the door of the sick-room, where he had been
sharing the vigils of the nurse and me. 'My child's own mother forsakes
her, while you!--God reward you.' As he spoke, he clasped my hand
between his, and fervently pressed his lips to my forehead. But I
started with a confusion like that of detected guilt, when I perceived,
at a little distance, the half-concealed face of Mrs Boswell, scowling
malignity and detection. Whilst I stood for a moment in motionless
expectation of what was to follow, she darted forward, undressed as she
was; her lip quivering, her face void of all colour except a line of
strong scarlet bordering her eyelids. 'Mighty well!' cried she, in
accents half choked by something between a hysterical giggle and a sob.
'Mighty well, indeed! I knew how it was! I have seen it all well enough.
But I'm not such a fool as you think! I won't endure it--that I won't.'
Provoked by the recollection that this degrading remonstrance was
uttered within hearing of a domestic, I looked towards Mr Boswell for
defence; but seeing him cower like a condemned culprit, I was obliged to
answer for myself. 'What will you not endure, madam?' said I. 'Your own
preposterous fancy?--I know of nothing else that you have to endure.'
Mrs Boswell's natural cowardice always took part against her with a
resolute antagonist. 'I am sure,' said she, whimpering between fear and
wrath, 'I don't want to have any words with you, Miss Percy--only I
wish--I am sure it would be very obliging if you would go quietly out of
this house--and not stay here enticing other people's husbands----'
At this coarse accusation, the indignant blood rose to my forehead. But
the provocation was great enough to remind me that this was a fit
occasion of forbearance; and I subdued my voice and countenance into
stern composure, while I said, 'Woman! I would answer you, were I sure
of speaking only what a Christian ought to speak.' Then turning from
her, I took refuge from further insult in the apartment which I knew she
did not dare to approach.
There I sat down to consider what course I should pursue, I had been
insolently forbidden the house; and every moment that I remained in it
might subject me to new affront. The very attendants in the sick-room
could, with difficulty, restrain the merriment excited by Mrs Boswell's
ridiculous attack; and I felt as if the impertinence of their
half-suppressed smiles was partly directed against me. They had heard my
dismission; and every instant that I delayed to avail myself of it
seemed a new degradation. The most rooted passion of my nature,
therefore, urged my immediate departure; but I had now learned to lend a
suspicious ear to its suggestions. 'I shall never be humble,' thought I,
'if I resist every occasion of humiliation;' and when I looked upon the
altered countenance of my poor little charge, I could have endured any
thing rather than have withdrawn its last comfort from her ebbing life.
I resumed my place by her side, resolved never voluntarily to quit her
while my cares could administer to her relief.
My task was now of short duration. The very next day the physician
informed me that the crisis of the disorder was at hand; and that an
hour which he named would either bring material amendment, or lasting
release from suffering. I entreated that the anxiety of the parents
might not be aggravated by a knowledge of this circumstance; and
undertook myself to watch the event of the critical hour.
The day passed in silent suspense. Mrs Boswell did not dare to approach
me; and she contrived, by what means I know not, to keep her husband
away. I was truly thankful to be thus spared from contest; for I had
begun to feel the consequences of breathing the polluted air of
confinement. A heavy languor was upon me. My eyes turned pained from the
light. I was restless; yet I moved uneasily, for my limbs seemed
burdened beyond their strength. In vain I tried to struggle against
these harbingers of disease. Infection had done its work, and my
disorder increased every hour. The physician, at this evening visit,
observing my haggard looks, desired that I should immediately endeavour
to obtain some rest. But to sleep during the hour that was to decide
poor Jessie's fate, I should at any time have found impossible. I
watched her till the appointed time was past; saw her drop into the
promised sleep; sat motionless beside her during the anxious hours of
its continuance; and, with a joy which brightened even the progress of
disease, beheld her lifting upon me once more the eye of intelligence,
and beaming upon me once more the smile of ease.
Thinking only of the joyful news I had to tell, I ran to enquire for Mr
Boswell. He was in his dressing-room; and thither I hastened to seek
him. I entered; and told my tale, I know not how. 'Thank God!' the
father tried to say, but could not. He burst into tears. The first
words he spoke blessed me for having saved his child; the next expressed
his eager wish to see her. We were leaving the dressing-room together,
when we met Mrs Boswell. Her face growing livid with rage, and her voice
sharpening to something like the scream of a Guinea fowl, she exclaimed,
'Well! if this is not beyond every thing! To go into his very room! You
are a shameless, abominable man, Mr Boswell. But I will be revenged on
you--that I will.'
'I went into Mr Boswell's room, madam,' interrupted I, calmly, 'to tell
him that his daughter is out of immediate danger; and I was just going
to convey the same news to you.'
'Oh! no doubt but you'll be clever enough to find some excuse. But I
don't wish to have any thing to say to you, Miss Percy,--only I tell you
civilly, go away out of my house. I'm sure the house is my own; and it
is very hard if I can't--so go this moment, I tell you----'
She had gone too far. The mildest spirits are, when roused, the most
tremendous; and Mr Boswell's was, for the moment, completely roused.
Seizing her with a grasp, which made me tremble, 'Speak that again at
your peril, Mrs Boswell,' said he. 'Her stay depends upon herself,
whilst I have a roof to shelter her.' Then, throwing her from him, he
passed on, whilst I shuddered at perceiving that his grasp had wrung the
blood-drops from her fingers. The poor creature, terrified by this first
instance of violence, stood gazing after him in trembling silence.
'Compose yourself, Mrs Boswell,' said I, as soon as he was out of
hearing; 'I will immediately begone. I staid only for the sake of poor
Jessie; now, nothing would tempt me to remain here another hour.'
Spent with the exertion which I had made, I could scarcely reach my
chamber. I immediately began to collect my little property for removal;
but before my preparations, trifling as they were, could be finished, my
strength failed, and I sunk upon my bed.
A strange confusion seemed now to seize me. Black shadows swam before my
eyes, succeeded by glares of bloody light. The hideous phantoms crowded
round me, till my very breathing was oppressed by their numbers; and one
of them, more frightful than the rest, laid on my forehead the weight of
his fiery hand. Then came a confused hope that all was but a frightful
dream, from which I struggled to rouse myself. I spoke, as if my own
voice could dispel the terrible illusion. I endeavoured to rise, that I
might shake off this dreadful sleep. In an instant I was on the brink of
a fearful precipice, from which I shrunk in vain. Hands invisible
hurried me down the fathomless abyss.
Again I perceived that these horrors were illusory. I strove to convince
myself, that I was indeed in my own chamber, surrounded by objects
familiar to my sight. My mind rallied its last strength, to recall the
remembrance of my situation. Along with this, a dark suspicion of the
truth stole upon me.
'Merciful Heaven!' I cried, 'are my senses indeed wandering; and must I
be driven forth homeless while fever is raging in my brain! Forbid it!
Oh forbid it!'
By a violent effort I flung myself on my knees. With an earnestness
which hastened the dreaded evil, I supplicated an escape from this worst
calamity; and implored, that the body might perish before the spirit
were darkened. But ere the melancholy petition was closed, its fervour
had wandered into delirium.
A time passed which I have no means to measure; and I saw a female form
approach me. She seemed alternately to wear the aspect of my mother and
of Miss Mortimer; yet she rejected my embrace; and when I called her by
their names, she answered not. She clothed me in what seemed the chill
vestments of the grave; she hurried me through the air with the rapidity
of light; then consigned me to two dark and fearful shapes; and again I
was hurried on.
At last the breath of heaven for a moment cooled my throbbing brow. I
looked up and saw that I was in the hands of two persons of unknown and
rugged countenance. They lifted me into a carriage. It drove off with
distracting speed.
The succeeding days are a blank in my being.