About the middle of last century, there resided in the burgh of Tain,
on the eastern coast of Ross-shire, a poor shopkeeper of the name of
Ross. The contents of that strange and multifarious emporium, which
he called his shop, might have been well advertised by a handbill,
like that which I once met with in Ireland, where, in the long
list of miscellaneous articles enumerated, I remember to have seen
"tar, butter, hog's-lard, brimstone, and other sweetmeats--brushes,
scythe-stones, mouse-traps, and other musical instruments." You may
easily imagine, that the profits arising from the sale of such trumpery
wares as these, were barely sufficient to provide the necessaries
of life for his numerous family, and to bestow on his children the
common education which Scotland, very much to her credit, so readily
and cheaply affords. Although Mr. Ross's enjoyments were not numerous,
yet, by endeavouring to have as few wants as possible, he managed to
live contentedly and happily enough, and he cheerfully struggled on
drudging at his daily occupation, thanking God for the mercies which
were bestowed on him, and looking forward with hope to the prospect
of better days yet in store.
A circumstance occurred one afternoon, which led him to imagine that
this prospect was nearer realisation than he could have believed it to
be. A stranger, of a spare form and extremely atrabilious complexion,
was seen to ride into the town at a gentle pace, and to go directly up
to the principal house of entertainment for travellers, as if the way
to it had been familiar to him. He had not been long housed there, when
a waiter came across the street to Mr. Ross, with compliments "from
the gentleman at the inn," who requested a few minutes' conversation
with him. The eager shopkeeper, anticipating some important sale of
his goods, waited not to doff his apron and sleeves, but hurried over
the way directly, and, what was his astonishment and delight, when,
after a few words of inquiry and explanation had passed between them,
he found himself weeping tears of joy in the arms of an affectionate
elder brother.
This man had left his father's house when very young, with little
else but hope for his portion, and after being so lost sight of
by his relations, that they had long believed him to be dead,
he now most unexpectedly returned to them from India with an ample
fortune. Wonderful were the visions of wealth which now arose in the
mind of the poor shopkeeper, and, on his warm invitation, his brother,
and his brother's saddle-bags, were quickly transferred from the inn
to his small and inconvenient house, and the Indian was speedily
subjected to the danger of being smothered in the embraces of his
sister-in-law and her numerous progeny.
Narrow as was his apartment, and small as was his bed, the nabob
felt himself in elysium in his brother's house. He had never before
experienced the genial effects of the warmth of kindred blood. He
was idolised by every one of the family, and imminent was the risk
he ran of being killed with kindness. Nor was he the great object
of attention to his immediate relations alone. He soon became the
oracle of a large circle of kind friends and neighbours, who were seen
crowding Mr. Ross's small back parlour, which many of them had never
before condescended to enter. And not only was the Indian feasted by
small and great, but his humble brother and his sister-in-law were also
invited to parties by people who had hardly before been aware of the
fact that such an individual as Mr. Ross, the grocer and hardwareman,
existed in the place. But now Mr. Ross was not only discovered,
as it were, but he was discovered to be a very sensible man, having
much of his brother, the nabob's sound intellect, though wanting the
advantages of cultivation. As to the nabob, he was a rara avis in
terris,--an absolute phoenix, a creature a specimen of which is not
to be met with in every age of the world. What the nabob uttered was
considered as law; and even when he was absent, "the nabob said this,"
and "the nabob said that," and "that's the way the nabob likes it,"
were expressions continually employed by the good people of the town
and neighbourhood to put an end to a debate; and they never failed
to be quite conclusive upon every question. All this had a certain
charm for the old Indian. It was extremely pleasant thus despotically
to rule over men's opinions, aye, and over women's too, even in such
a place as Tain. But the copper of the gilded crown and sceptre of
his dominion soon began to appear through its thin coating. His own
origin had indeed been humble, but as his wealth had grown by degrees,
so had he been gradually elevated above his original sphere, till
he had at last risen into familiar intercourse with people of rank
and consequence, from whose society his address, and still more, his
ideas had received a certain degree of polish. This did not prevent
him from greatly enjoying the plain, honest, warm, but very vulgar
manners of his brother and his townsmen, whilst they were as yet new
to him. They pleased him at first, precisely on the same principle of
novelty, combined with old association, which made him relish for a
certain time sheep's-head broth and haggis. But having unfortunately
expressed himself rather strongly in his admiration of these dishes,
the good folks thought themselves bound to give them to him upon all
occasions, so that they soon began to lose their charm; and just so it
was that the uninterrupted converse with the good, yet homely people
around him, to which he was daily subjected, very soon became dull,
tiresome, ennuyant, and, finally, disgusting, until it eventually grew
to be so very intolerable that he altogether abandoned the thought
he had entertained of purchasing an estate in that neighbourhood
which was then for sale, and he quickly came to the determination of
bringing this visit to his native town to a speedy conclusion, and of
returning to London to take up his abode there among people who like
himself had known what it was to live on curries and mulligatawny,
and who could talk with him of tiffins and tiger hunting.
How shall I describe that wet blanket of disappointment that fell upon
the shoulders of Mr. Ross, the grocer and hardwareman, and his family,
when the nabob communicated to them this change in his plans. All the
poor shopkeeper's splendid visions departed from him with the same
suddenness with which the figures from a magic lantern disappear from
a wall the moment its light is extinguished. He had already set it
down in his own mind as a thing absolutely certain, that his beloved
brother would live and die in his house; and he and his wife had been
calculating, that as every child they had would be as a child to its
bachelor uncle, every child of them would be better provided for than
another. Ten thousand cobwebby castles had been erected in the air
by this worthy couple, who had already made lairds of all the boys,
and lairds' ladies at least of all the girls. "Out of sight out of
mind" was a proverb that came with chilling truth to their hearts;
and although the nabob had already shown much affection to them,
and had behaved generously enough in giving liberal aid towards the
improvement of his brother's condition and that of his family, yet
they could not help considering his threatened separation from them as
the removal of the sunshine of fortune from the hemisphere of their
fate. Never was the anticipated departure of any one more deeply or
sincerely deplored. The nabob himself had no such feelings. He looked
forward to his escape from his relatives and friends as to a period
of happy relief. Yet to this there was one exception.
Chirsty Ross, as his niece Christina was provincially called, was
then a very beautiful and extremely engaging little girl of some
five or six years of age. From the first day that the old Indian
took up his residence in her father's house, she had innocently and
unconsciously commenced her approaches against the citadel of his
heart. Each succeeding hour saw her gain outpost after outpost, and
defence after defence, until she fairly entwined herself so firmly
around his affections, that he could not contemplate the approaching
loss of her smiles, of her kisses, and of her prattle, with anything
like philosophy. He had been naturally enough led to shower a double
portion of his favours upon her. She was already in the habit of
calling him "her own uncle," as if he had belonged exclusively and
entirely to herself, and to this she had been a good deal encouraged
by the nabob. It is not wonderful, therefore, that when his departure
was communicated to her, she was thrown into an inconsolable paroxysm
of grief, and clung to his knees, giving loud vent to her plaints,
and sobbing as if her little heart would have burst.
"Take me with you! take me with you, my own dear uncle! oh, take your
own Chirsty with you!" cried she.
"I shall take you with me, my little dear!" exclaimed the nabob,
snatching her up, and kissing her. "I shall take you with me, provided
your father and mother will but part with you."
A negotiation was speedily entered into. The parents were too sensible
of the great advantages which such a proposal opened for their child
to think for one moment of throwing any obstacle in the way of its
fulfilment. They, moreover, hoped that this arrangement might have
the desirable effect of keeping up a connecting tie between them and
their rich relative. However much they might have been disappointed
in this last respect, they certainly never had any reason to accuse
the nabob of any forgetfulness of those promises which he made to
them at parting.
He was no sooner established in his house in town than he set about
providing proper instructors for Chirsty, and a very few weeks
proved to him that his care was by no means thrown away. The child's
perception was quick, and her desire to learn was strong, so that
things which were difficult to others were, comparatively speaking,
easy to her. So rapid was her progress, that her uncle became every
day more and more interested in it; and as she advanced, he was from
time to time led to engage firstrate masters, in order to perfect her
in all manner of solid acquirements and elegant accomplishments. With
all this her person became every day more graceful as she grew in
stature; and everything she said and did was seasoned with so much
sweetness of manner, that she gained the hearts of all who had the
good fortune to meet with her.
Not a little proud of what he had so good a right to call his own
work, the nabob, on her fifteenth birthday, put the master-keys of his
house with great but affectionate ceremonial into her hands, and with
them he gave her the entire control and management of his household
affairs. But she did not long continue to enjoy the distinguished
situation in which he had thus placed her. Too close an application
to the numerous branches of education she occupied herself with soon
brought upon her that delicacy of health which is too often the produce
of the similar over-confinement of young growing girls in our own
days. A very alarming cough came on, her strength visibly declined
daily, and her spirits began to sink. She was compelled to give up
all her favourite pursuits. Books and music lost their charms for
her, and her hours were spent in list-less idleness, not unfrequently
broken in upon by nervous fits of crying, which she could by no means
account for. Then it was that in her moody dreamings her mind would
revert to the innocent pleasures of her childhood, to the simple,
the rustic, yet highly relished happiness she had enjoyed whilst
surrounded by her brothers and sisters, when they wandered about the
furzy hillocks in a joyous knot, inhaling the perfume of the rich
yellow blossoms,--when they dug little caves in the sandy banks,
or built their mimic houses, or planted their perishable gardens,
with careless hearts, noisy tongues, and laughing eyes. The thought
that she might never again behold them or her dear parents renewed
her tears, and she pined more and more.
Her affectionate uncle became alarmed at this rapid and melancholy
change. So far as gold could purchase the aid of the best medical skill
he commanded its attendance. But even the most learned of the London
physicians could discover no medicine to remove her malady. In their
own minds they despaired of her, but as usually happens in such cases,
to cover the deficiency of their art, they recommended her native air
as the dernier ressort. Chirsty eagerly caught at this last remaining
hope, so congenial to the current of her feelings at the time, and her
uncle was thus obliged to yield to necessity; and as certain matters
in which he had engaged rendered it quite impossible for him to take
charge of her himself, he was obliged to resign her to the care of
her maid.
The doctors were right for once. Every breeze that blew on her from
her native land as she proceeded on her journey seemed to be fraught
with health; her spirits rose, and long before she reached the place
of her birth, she was so far recovered as to remove all fears of
any serious termination of her complaint. How did her mind go on as
she travelled, sketching to itself ideal pictures of the charms of
home! But alas! how changed did every person and everything seem to
her when she at last reached it. How pitiful did the provincial town
appear to her London eyes! The streets seemed to have shrunk in, and
the very houses and gardens to have dwindled; and when she reached
her paternal mansion, she blushed to think how very grievously the
fondness of her ancient recollections had deceived her.
The full tide of unrestrained affection which burst forth the moment
she was within its walls was so gratifying to her heart, that for
some time every other feeling or thought was absorbed by it; but many
weeks did not pass over her head until the conversation and manners
of her parents and family, which had startled her even at the first
interview, began to obtrude themselves on her notice in spite of all
she could do to shut her eyes against them, until they finally became
intolerably disagreeable to her. She soon discovered,--and a certain
degree of sorrow and self-reproach accompanied the discovery,--that
the refined education which she had received had rendered it quite
impossible that she could long endure the mortifications to which she
was daily and hourly exposed by her vulgar though affectionate and
well-meaning relatives. Painful as the thought was for many reasons,
she became convinced of the necessity of an early separation; and,
accordingly, she made her uncle's wish for her speedy return to him an
apology for fixing an early day for her departure. Yet do not suppose
from this that the ties of affection were not strong within her. The
parting scene was not gone through without many tears and lingering
embraces, that sufficiently proved the triumph of nature in her mind
over the arbitrary dictates of fashion. And after she was gone, the
large richly bound folio bible, out of which her father ever afterwards
read on Sundays,--the gold-mounted spectacles which enabled him so well
to decipher its characters, and of which he was at all times so justly
vain,--the cashmere shawl that kept her good mother so warm, and the
caps, the bonnets, the gowns, the globes, and the books of prints,
with which her grown-up sisters and brothers were so much delighted,
and the dolls and humming-tops of which the junior members of the
family, down to the very youngest, were so proud as having been the
gifts of "the grand leddy from Lunnon," for sister they dared hardly
to call her, were not the only marks of her affection that she left
behind her. Besides these keepsakes there were other presents of a
more solid nature bestowed in secret, which, whilst they contributed
to enable her father to hold his head higher as he walked up the
causeway of the main street of Tain, compelled Chirsty herself to
exercise a very strict economy in providing for those wants which
her own style of life rendered essential to her, large as was the
sum which she had received from the bounty of her uncle.
Passing through Edinburgh on her way to London, she was visited
and kindly invited by a lady of fashion who had known her in
the metropolis, and she soon found herself deeply engaged in
gaiety. Perhaps she did not enter into it the less readily that she had
so recently returned from what might have been well enough called her
life of mortification at Tain. Having once got into the vortex, she
found it difficult to extricate herself from it, and this difficulty
was not lessened by the admiration which her beauty and accomplishments
so universally excited both in public and in private. She became
the chief object of interest, and she was so caressed and courted
by every one, that it was not very surprising if the adoration that
was paid to her did in some degree affect so young a head. However
this might be, three things were very certain,--in the first place,
that she had been extremely regular in writing to her uncle during
her stay at Tain; secondly, that before leaving that place she had
heard from her uncle, who had warmly expressed his anxiety for her
return to him; and thirdly, that whereas she had intended to stay
in Edinburgh for two or three days only, she was led on from day to
day by this ball and the other party to remain, till nearly a whole
winter had melted away like its own snows, during all which time she
had likewise procrastinated, and, consequently, had entirely omitted
the duty of writing to her uncle.
The day of thought and of self-disapproval came at length, and bitter
were her reflections. She resolved at least to do all in her power to
repair her fault. She sat down immediately and wrote a long letter to
her uncle, in which she scrupled not to blame herself to the fullest
extent for her want of thought and apparent negligence towards so
kind a friend and benefactor, and she declared her repentance and
her intention of returning to him immediately.
Having accordingly reached London very soon after her letter, she was
driven to her uncle's well-known door. Her impatience to behold him
was such, that she could hardly rest in the chaise till the postilion
dismounted to knock for her admittance. How intense were her emotions
during that brief space! How eagerly did her eyes run over every
window in the ample front of the house! How rapidly did the images
of her uncle, and of Alexander Tod, his old and faithful servant,
dance through her imagination whilst she gazed intently on the yet
unopened door, prepared to catch the first smile of surprise and of
welcome which she knew would illuminate the honest countenance of that
tried domestic, the moment he should discover who it was that summoned
him. As she looked she was surprised to perceive that the door itself
had strangely changed the modest and unpretending hue which it had
worn when she last saw it for a queer uncouth flaring colour, somewhat
between a pink and an orange. Before she had time to wonder at this
metamorphosis the door did open, and if its opening did produce any
surprise it was her own; for, instead of discovering the plain but
respectable figure of Alexander Tod, whom she had been long taught to
consider more as an old friend than as a menial, she beheld a saucy
fopling, bepowdered, underbred footman, in a gaudy vulgar looking
livery. The man stared when she asked for her uncle, and seemed but
half inclined to consent to the hall being encumbered with her baggage,
and, after having shown her with unconcealed petulance into a little
back parlour, she had the mortification, through the door which he
had carelessly left ajar behind him, to hear herself thus announced,--
"A young person in the back parlour who wishes to speak to you, sar."
And, chagrined as she was by this provoking delay, she could not help
laughing, as she threw herself into a sofa to wait for her uncle's
appearance. He came at last, and his joy at again beholding her was
great and unfeigned.
"Welcome again to my house, my dear Chirsty," said he, with tears of
joy, after his first warm and silent embraces were over; "Oh! why did
you cease to write to me? But I need say no more, for what is done
cannot be undone; yet, if you had but written to me, things might
have been otherwise."
"I ought indeed to have written to you, my dear uncle," replied
Chirsty; "but much as I have deserved your anger, things cannot be
but well with me, whilst I am thus affectionately and kindly received
by you."
Her uncle replied not; but, with his eyes thrown on the ground, and
with an air of solemnity which she had never seen him wear before,
he led her upstairs to the large drawing-room, where she found seated
a middle-aged and rather good-looking woman, with an expression of
countenance by no means very prepossessing, and whose person was tawdry
and very much overdressed. What was her astonishment, and what was
the shock she felt, when her uncle led her up to this lady, saying,--
"Mrs. Ross, this is my niece, of whom you have heard me speak so much;
and Chirsty, my dear, you will henceforth know and treat this lady
as my wife and your aunt."
However little sensible people may think of those newborn and baseless
dreams which have been recently blown up into something falsely
resembling a science by the folly and vanity of man, and which I for
one yet hope, for the honour of human intellect, to see burst and
collapse ere I die, it must be admitted, that all are more or less
Lavaterists; and that even the youngest of us will involuntarily
exercise some such scrutiny on the features of a countenance, when
we happen to be placed in such circumstances as Chirsty Ross now
found herself thrown into. She, poor girl, failed not to bring all
the little knowledge of this sort which she possessed into immediate
requisition. The result of her investigations were most unfavourable
to the subject of them, nor were these disagreeable impressions at all
diminished by the profusion of protestations of kindness and affection
which the lady lavished upon her with a vulgar volubility, whilst at
the same time she seemed to eye the young intruder in a manner that
augured but little for her future happiness. But although Chirsty
perceived all this, she inwardly determined to doubt the correctness
of her own observation,--at all events, sorrowfully as she retired
to rest, or rather to moisten her pillow with her tears, she failed
not to arm herself with the virtuous resolution, that as this woman,
be she what she might, was the wife of her uncle, who had acted as a
father to her, she would use her best endeavours to gain her affection,
seeing that she was now bound to regard her as a parent. But yet she
did not close her eyes, without having almost unconsciously exclaimed,
"What could have induced my uncle, with such tastes as he has, to
marry such a person as this? Ah! if I had not fooled away my time in
Edinburgh! or if I had only but written!"
Next morning she met her uncle alone in the library, and a single
sentence of his explained the whole.
"What could have induced you to forget to write to me, Chirsty?" said
the good man, kissing her tenderly, whilst his eyes betrayed a
sensation which he vainly tried to hide. "We were so happy here alone
together! But I have been a fool, Chirsty! Blinded by momentary pique,
I saw not the slough of despond into which I was plunging until too
late! But she is not a bad woman, though not quite what I was at first
led to believe her to be; and so, all we can now say is, that she is
your aunt and my wife, and we are both bound to make the best of it."
Chirsty assured her uncle that nothing should be wanting on her part
towards her aunt; and she kept her word, for, neglecting all other
things, she devoted herself entirely to the task of pleasing her. For
some little while her pious endeavours seemed to have succeeded;
but it happened that Chirsty, unambitious as she was to shine, so
far eclipsed her aunt in every attraction that makes woman charming,
that without intending it, or rather whilst intending the very
reverse, she monopolised all the attention of those with whom they
associated either at home or abroad. Compared to her Mrs. Ross was
treated like a piece of furniture,--any table or cabinet in the room
had more attention paid to it. She could not shut her eyes to her
own inferiority, and envy, hatred, and malice took full possession
of her. Chirsty's efforts to please, though they had ceased to be
successful, were still unremitting; but her uninterrupted gentleness
was met by perpetual peevishness and ill humour, always excepting such
times as her uncle chanced to be present, when the lady's words and
manner were ever bland, kind, and false. With such devilish tempers it
often happens that the more they torture the more they hate, and so it
was that the dislike of this woman towards her niece rapidly grew to
so great a height, that she resolved to get her removed from the house.
Fondly believing that she had a stronger hold over her husband's
affections than she really possessed, she first of all attempted to
undermine her in her uncle's good opinion by sly insinuations against
her truth, her temper, and what she called the girl's pretended
love for him, which she declared was in reality no greater than her
attention to her own self-interest required. But finding that this
line of attack only excited his anger, she with great art gradually
withdrew from it, and by slow degrees she began to confess that she
now believed she had been altogether mistaken in her estimation of
Chirsty, and every succeeding day heard her bestow more and more
praise on her temper and disposition. This was a language that was
much more congenial to the nabob, but he was not altogether the dupe
of it. He however listened with seeming attention to his wife when
she prosed on about the zeal she felt for her niece's interest, as
well as when, after a long prologue, she finally proposed the grand
scheme of sending Chirsty out to India to the care of a particular
friend of the nabob's at Calcutta, that she might there make some
wealthy match, so as to secure her a magnificent independence for
life. Plainly as Mr. Ross saw through the motives that dictated all
this apparent solicitude, he took care to appear to think it quite
genuine. Nor did he refuse to entertain the project; for as he began
shrewdly to suspect that his niece could now have but little happiness
under the same roof with his wife, he resolved at least to put it in
Chirsty's power to accept or reject this proposal. He accordingly
sought for a private interview with her, and then it was that her
tears, and her half confessions with difficulty extracted, satisfied
him of the correctness of his suspicions, and the readiness with which
she acceded to the plan which he laid before her at once determined
him as to the propriety of going immediately into it. He therefore
lost not a moment in securing everything that might contribute to her
comfort and happiness during the voyage, and he presented her with a
letter of credit for a sum of money amply sufficient to put her above
all anxiety as to that matter on reaching the shores of the Ganges.
These substantial marks of her uncle's affection towards her,
supported as they were by a thousand little nameless kindnesses, did
not tend to allay the grief which she felt at parting with him. The
reflection that she went because she felt convinced that her uncle's
future domestic comfort required her absence, was all that she had
to give her courage to bear it, and she was so much absorbed in this
conviction, that she hardly gave much thought to the consideration
of what her own future fate might be.
The gallant ship had gone merrily on its voyage for several days
before Chirsty began to mix at all with her fellow-passengers. But
when she first came upon deck, it was like the appearance of the
morning sun over the eastern horizon of some country where he is
worshipped. All eyes were instantly bent upon her; and ere the people
had been familiarised to her beauty, the elegance of her manners,
and the charms of her conversation, soon made her the great centre of
attraction to all who walked the quarter-deck. Above all others, she
seemed to have made a deep and powerful impression on the commander,
whom I shall call Captain Mordaunt, a very elegant and agreeable
man, of superior intellect and information. He soon showed himself
indefatigable in his attentions to her. His command of the ship
gave him a thousand opportunities of manifesting a marked degree of
politeness towards her, by doing her many little courteous services
which no one else had the power to perform. He easily invented means
of keeping all other aspirants to her favour at a sufficient distance
from her. Her heart was as yet her own; and as Mordaunt never lost
any opportunity of engaging her in conversation, and as his talk
was always well worth listening to, it was no wonder that so many
unequivocal proofs of an attachment on the part of so handsome a man,
in the prime of life, and of address so superior, should have soon
prepared the way for her favourable reception of his declared passion;
and this having once been made, and mutually acknowledged, it seemed
to grow in warmth as the days fled merrily away, and as the progress
of the prosperous bark carried them nearer and nearer to that sun
which gives life and heat to all animated nature. Often did Mordaunt
gladden the artless mind of Chirsty Ross as they sat apart together
on the poop of the vessel, towards the conclusion of their voyage,
in the full enjoyment of the fanning sea-breeze, by the enchanting
pictures which he painted of the happiness of their future wedded life.
"I have already realised a tolerable fortune," said he, one evening
carelessly, "so that by the time I return to Calcutta from my trip to
China, whither you know the vessel is bound, I may safely claim your
hand, in order that we may sail home together as man and wife. You can
have no dread of spending our honeymoon on the wide waters, my love,
since they have yielded us so happy a courtship, especially when you
think that we shall be on our way to some sweet rural residence in
England, where we shall be insured the enjoyment of tranquillity and
happiness for the rest of our days. And there, with what I have saved,
added to the liberal allowance which your rich uncle will give you
during his life, and with the certainty which you have of succeeding to
his immense fortune at his death, we shall be able to live in a style
altogether worthy of that exquisite beauty, and that angelic soul,
with which Heaven has blessed you, and of those fascinating manners
and brilliant accomplishments, which are calculated to make you the
queen of any society you may be pleased to grace with your presence."
"Stay, stay, Mordaunt!" replied Chirsty, smiling playfully. "You are
running too fast before the wind. I need not tell you what you have
so often told me, that I am prepared to be thine on the wide ocean, in
the populous city, or in the lonely desert, in sickness or in health,
in wealth or in poverty! And well is it, indeed, that you have so
often vowed all this much to me, for I must needs disabuse your mind
of some part of its visions of riches, so far at least as that share
may have reached which your fancy has ascribed to me. I have neither
claims nor expectations from my uncle, who has already done more for
me than any niece in my circumstances had a right to expect."
"Haul taut that weather main-brace!" cried the captain, suddenly
starting from her side; and although there appeared to be little change
in the wind or the weather to warrant such activity, he became from
that moment too much occupied in the care of the ship for any further
conversation with Chirsty that evening.
In the morning the lovers met as usual, and then, as well as during the
few remaining days of the voyage, Mordaunt was as full of affection and
endearment to her as ever. Their last private interview took place ere
she left the ship to go into the small craft that was to take her up
the river, and then all their mutual vows were solemnly repeated. An
understanding took place between them, that their engagement should
be kept private, unless circumstances should arise which might render
a disclosure necessary. Poor Chirsty gave way to all the poignancy of
that grief which she felt at being thus obliged to part, even for a
few months, from him to whom, in the then orphan state of her soul, she
had given up the whole strength of her undivided affections. But hard
as she found the effort to be, she was obliged to dry up her tears,
and even to throw a faint and fleeting smile over her countenance as
she left the ship, that she might not betray her own secret before
indifferent persons; and it was only that warm and cherishing hope
that lay nearest to her heart that kept the pulses of her life
playing, and that enabled her to go through the trying scene of
parting coolly with her lover, after he had deposited her under the
roof of her uncle's friend, where they bid each other such a polite
adieu as might have befitted two well-bred people who were separating
with mutual esteem for one another, and who were, at the same time,
very little solicitous as to whether there did or did not exist any
future chance of their ever meeting again.
Mr. Gardner, as I shall call the gentleman to whose protection the
nabob had consigned Chirsty, well deserved the confidence which had
been placed in him. He spoke warmly of the many obligations under
which he lay to Mr. Ross, and he declared himself to be delighted in
having the opportunity which had thus been afforded him of proving his
gratitude for those obligations. His lady entered deeply into all her
husband's feelings, and both of them zealously occupied themselves
in doing all in their power to promote the young lady's comfort and
happiness. Numerous and brilliant were the parties which they made for
the purpose of introducing their lovely protegé with sufficient eclat
to the society of Calcutta. But not even the novelty and grandeur of
Eastern magnificence, though produced for her with all its splendour,
had any effect in removing that pensive air which their young friend
wore when she landed, and which she continued to wear notwithstanding
all the smiling new faces to which she was every moment introduced. One
very natural result, however, was soon produced by these numerous
public appearances which the kindness of her friends obliged her
to make. She was immediately encircled by crowds of admirers; and
before she had been many months in the country she had been put to the
unpleasant necessity of declining proposals of marriage from numerous
military men and civilians of rank so high as to make those with whom
she lived wonder at the indifference she displayed. The more she was
courted the more retiring she appeared to become.
Among the few who were admitted to a somewhat more familiar intercourse
with Chirsty, was a Scottish gentleman of good family, whom I shall
call Charles Græme. Though young, he had risen to a high civil
situation, and he had already realised a very handsome fortune. He
was a gentleman of enlarged mind and extremely liberal education;
and as he was of manners much more retiring than most of those with
whom she had become acquainted, she the more readily yielded to that
intimacy which his greater friendship with her host and hostess
gave him very frequent opportunities of forming with her. Like
herself he was full of accomplishments; yet such was his modesty,
that she had known him for a considerable time before accident led
her to discover them. His mind was richly stored with the treasures
of European literature; yet it was only on particular occasions that
he allowed himself to give forth the sweets he had hoarded up, or to
indulge in those critical remarks to which every one was prepared to
listen with delight. As he became better known to her, and more at
his ease with her, she discovered that his tastes, his acquirements,
his sentiments, nay, his very soul, were all so much in harmony with
her own, that she soon began to prefer his society to that of any
other gentleman who approached her. Had her heart been unengaged,
she might perhaps have had some degree of palpitation in its pulses,
as she sensibly felt their friendship becoming every day more and more
familiar; but, as the partridge believes that when its head is in the
bush the whole of its body is secure, so she, knowing her own safety,
owing to that secret cause which bound her to another, never dreamed
that the accomplished Scotchman could be in any danger of feeling
for her any sentiment one degree warmer than that of esteem. Thus
it was, that with perfect unconsciousness on her part of the havoc
she was working in his heart, she read with him, criticised with him,
played with him, sang with him, or sketched with him, as the fancy of
the moment might dictate, her heart being all the while filled with
gratitude to him for so good-naturedly enabling her to pass, with at
least some degree of rational enjoyment, some of those tedious hours
that must yet elapse ere the return of him to whom she had pledged
her virgin affections.
As for Charles Græme, he soon began to find that he existed only when
his soul was animated by her bright eyes and her seraphic voice. When
absent from their influence he felt like a walking mass of frozen
clay. Her society became more necessary to him than food or air. He
almost lived at the house of the Gardners, who, on their part, gave him
every encouragement, being secretly pleased at what they believed to
be the mutual attachment that was so rapidly growing, as they thought,
between two individuals whom they had reason to love so much, and whom
they knew to be so worthy of each other, and so well calculated to
make each other happy for life. Day after day the infatuated young man
drank deeper and deeper draughts of the sweet intoxication of love. At
last the hour of wretchedness came. Seizing what he fondly believed
to be a favourable moment, and with a bosom full of bounding hopes,
he laid open the state of his heart to the idol of his soul. The
scales fell, as if by magic, from her mental vision.
"What have I done, Mr. Græme," she cried, whilst her cheeks were
suffused with blushes, and her whole frame trembled. "I have been
blind! I have been thoughtless, most culpably thoughtless. Forgive
me! oh, forgive me! but I cannot, I dare not, love you! I am already
the pledged bride of another."
It would be vain for me to attempt to describe the kind of temporary
death that fell upon her unfortunate lover as she uttered these
terrible words, which, like the simoom of the desert, left no atom of
hope behind them. Sinking into a chair, he uttered no sound, and he
sat for some time quite unconscious even of those attentions which her
compassion for him at the moment led her unscrupulously to administer
to him. The friendship and the high respect which she entertained for
him, as well as a regard for her own justification in his eyes, forbade
her to allow him to leave her without a full explanation. It was given
to him under the seal of secrecy, and the interview terminated with
an agony of feeling and floods of tears upon his part, in which her
compassion for that affliction which she had so innocently occasioned
him compelled her, in spite of herself, to participate.
The young Scotchman tried for some time after this, to frequent
the house where she lived as he had done previously. But her smiles
fell upon him like sunshine upon a spectre. Reason and prudence at
last came to his aid; and seeing that his heart could never hope
for ease whilst he remained within reach of her attractions, he,
to the great astonishment and disappointment of his friends, made
use of the powerful interest which he possessed to procure another
situation in a distant station, and he tore himself away from Calcutta.
And now came the time of misery to poor Chirsty herself, the season
of hope deferred, of nervous impatience, and of sad forebodings. The
period for which her fond heart panted in secret arrived--it passed
away. Days, nay, weeks and months beyond it elapsed; and yet no tidings
came of the gallant vessel that bore her betrothed husband. Delicately
alive to the apprehension of betraying her secret by inquiry, she did
not dare to ask questions. Fears, agonising fears, began to possess
her, that some fatal calamity had befallen the ship, till, happening
accidentally one day to cast her eyes over an old shipping list,
she read, and her sight grew dim as she read, of its arrival from
China, and its subsequent departure for England! How indestructible
is hope! Even then she imagined it possible that all this might have
been the result of accident, or might have arisen from the orders
of superiors. But still her anxiety preyed terribly upon her mind,
whilst she now looked forward to the new period of the ship's return
from England. In vain did she try to occupy herself in her former
pursuits. In vain did her friends endeavour to interest her with the
amusements they provided for her. All were equally fruitless in their
efforts; and the only explanation which the Gardners could find for
her mysterious abstraction, was in the belief that the remembrance
of Charles Græme was not altogether indifferent to her; and thence
they cherished the hope that the matter between that young man and
her might yet one day end as they wished it to do.
Months rolled on as if the days of which they were composed had been
years, till Chirsty was one evening, with some difficulty, induced
by her friends to go to a great public entertainment. She entered
the room, leaning on Mrs. Gardner's arm; and they were on their way
to find a seat at the upper end of it, when her eyes suddenly beheld
him for whose return she had been so long vainly sighing. Her heart
beat as if it would have burst from its seat in her bosom. She clung
unconsciously with a firmer hold to the arm of her friend, and her
limbs tottered under her with nervous joy as she moved forward. He
was advancing slowly with a lady; and as he drew near, she held out
her hand to him with a smile of happy and welcome recognition. He
started at sight of her; and then, after scanning every feature
of her countenance with calm indifference, he bowed coldly, turned
aside, and moved away. Chirsty uttered a faint cry, swooned away,
and was carried home by her friends in a state of insensibility,
leaving the whole room in confusion.
Sufficient natural and ordinary reasons were very easily found by a
company in such a climate as that of India for such an accident. But
Mrs. Gardner had seen enough to convince her that some deeper and
more powerful cause had operated upon Chirsty, than the mere heat of
weather or the crowded state of a room; and after she had successfully
used the necessary means for recovering her from her fainting fit,
she insisted on being allowed to share confidentially in the secret
of her afflictions. Chirsty felt some slight relief in telling her
all; and strange it was that she still clung most unaccountably
to hope. He might not have recognised her at first. He would yet
appear. But Mrs. Gardner's common sense told her there was no hope;
and she judged that it would be far better that Chirsty should receive
conviction, however cruel that conviction might be, rather than
remain in an anxiety which was so agonising and destructive. A very
little time enabled Mrs. Gardner to collect all the particulars of
his treachery. To sum up all in one word, he had arrived at Calcutta
from England with a rich wife, with whom he had already sailed on
his last voyage home.
This overwhelming intelligence was too much for the shattered frame of
poor Chirsty Ross. She was attacked by a most alarming fever, which
finally produced delirium; and even after the physicians had been
able to master the bodily disease, the mental derangement continued
so long, unabated, that her friends the Gardners considered it proper
to write home to inform her uncle of her unhappy state.
It pleased God, however, to restore her at length to her right mind;
and then it was that she was seized with an unconquerable desire of
returning to England. The most that the Gardners could prevail upon
her to agree to, was to delay her voyage to a period so far distant
as might insure that fresh letters should reach her uncle, to inform
him of her perfect mental recovery, and to teach him to look for her
arrival by a certain ship they named; and after impatiently waiting
till the time destined for her departure arrived, she bade her kind
friends the Gardners an affectionate farewell, and sailed with a fair
wind for Britain.
Who was it that arrived a week afterwards at the house of Mr. and
Mrs. Gardner in the middle of the night, having come by Dawk from a
far distant province? It was the shadow of Charles Græme!
"Thank God! thank God!" cried he energetically, after being told of
her recovery, and at the same time bursting into a flood of tears,
which weakness and fatigue left him no power to restrain. "Thank God
for her restoration! But oh! that I had reached Calcutta but eight
days sooner!"
He took his determination, applied for leave, to which the state of
his health might of itself well enough have entitled him, and went
for England by the very first fleet that sailed.
Chirsty Ross had a prosperous, but not a happy voyage. Her bodily
health improved every day that she was at sea; but her thoughts having
full time to brood over her miseries, her spirits became more and more
sunk. She rallied a little when she beheld the English shore; and when
she arrived in the river, her heart began to beat with affectionate
joy at the prospect of again embracing her dear uncle. Even the image
of her aunt had had its asperities softened down by length of time
and absence; and she almost felt something resembling pleasure at the
prospect of seeing her again. As the vessel arrived in the evening at
her moorings, a boat came alongside, and a voice was heard to demand
if there was a Miss Ross on board? Readily did Chirsty answer to the
inquiry; and being told that it was her uncle's servant come to take
her home, she lost not a moment in desiring her black maid to hand
up a small box, containing a few things to be put into the boat;
and leaving the girl to follow next day with her heavy baggage, she
quickly descended the ladder. She was immediately accosted by a stout,
vulgar-looking man out of livery, who announced himself to her as
Mr. Ross's servant, and informed her that a carriage waited for her
near the landing-place. She did accordingly find a post-chaise there;
but when the door of it was opened, and the steps were let down,
she started back on perceiving that there was a man seated at the
farther side of it.
"Only a friend of Mr. Ross, ma'am, whom he has sent to attend you
home," said the fellow who held the handle of the carriage-door.
Surprised as she was at the vulgarity of the dress and appearance of
the gentleman who was inside, and still more at his want of politeness
in not coming out of the carriage to hand her into it, her heart
was too full of home at the moment to admit of her inquiring very
particularly into circumstances, and accordingly, without more ado, she
entered the vehicle. But whilst she was yet only in the act of seating
herself, the fellow who had passed himself as her uncle's servant,
sprang in after her, pulled up the steps, shut the door, the side
blinds were drawn up, and the post-chaise was instantly flying at the
rate of twelve or fourteen miles an hour. She screamed aloud, but the
ruffian hands of both the villains were immediately on her mouth and
silence was inculcated with the most horrible and blasphemous menaces.
"We must have none of your Indian fury here, mistress," said one of
the fellows. "Behave peaceably and quietly, and you shall be treated
gently enough, but if you offer to rave and riot, the whip, the gag,
and the strait-waistcoat shall be your portion."
"Merciful Providence!" said Chirsty Ross, "why am I thus treated,
and whither would you carry me?"
"As to your treatment, young lady," said the man, "methinks you have
no right to complain of that as yet; and as to the why, I should
be as mad as yourself were I to hold any talk with you about that;
and, then, as to the whither, you have been already told that you
are going to your uncle's residence."
"Mad!" exclaimed Chirsty, with a shudder that ran through her whole
frame. "But, ah! I see how it is. Mr. Gardner's letters have been
received by my uncle, and not those which I wrote to him sometime
afterwards. And yet how did he know to expect me in England, and by
this particular ship, too, if my letters have not yet reached him? It
is very puzzling--very perplexing--very distressing; but since I am
going to him, I may thank God that all will soon be put to rights."
"Aye, aye," said both the men at once, whilst they laughed rudely to
one another, "all will soon be put to rights, I'll warrant me."
Chirsty sat silently dreaming over this strange and most vexatious
occurrence, yet hoping that her misery would be but of short duration,
till the chaise suddenly stopped, when one of the men let down the
window, and called to the postilion to ring the great bell at a gate,
which he had no sooner done than the peal was answered by the fierce
barking of a watch-dog.
"What place is this?" cried Chirsty, with new-born alarm. "This is
not the house of my Uncle Ross."
"You will see that all in good time, ma'am," replied one of the
men. "Postboy, ring again. What are they all about, I wonder?"
At this second summons the huge nail-studded leaves of the ponderous
oak and iron-bound gate were slowly rolled back, and the chaise was
admitted into a large paved court, where the lights that were borne
by one or two men of similar appearance to those who accompanied her,
showed the plain front of a pretty considerable brick building, the
narrow windows of which were strongly barred with iron. The door,
too, was of the most massive strength, and the whole character of
the edifice would of itself have conveyed to her the heart-sinking
conviction that she was within the precincts of a mad-house,
even if those strange sounds of uncouth laughter, wild rage, and
wailing despair that came from various parts of the interior, had
been altogether unheard by her. Rapidly did her thoughts traverse
her mind. The first natural impulse that possessed her was a desire
to scream out for help. But Chirsty was not destitute of resolution
and self-command; and as she immediately reflected that nothing
but the calmest behaviour could afford her any chance of convincing
the people of such an establishment that she in reality was sane,
she at once resolved to restrain herself from everything that might
look like excitement.
"Where is Sarah?" cried one of the men as he assisted Chirsty out of
the vehicle. "Aye, aye, here she comes. Here is your charge, Sall."
"A tall, handsome young woman," said Sarah, surveying Chirsty from
head to foot, whilst she herself exhibited a person in every respect
the reverse of that which she was admiring, being almost a dwarf,
though with a body thickly and strongly built. Her head was large,
with harsh prominent features, and her legs were bowed, and her
arms long and uncouth looking. Round her waist, if waist that might
be called where waist there was none, there was fastened a leathern
belt, to which was appended a large bunch of great keys. In the eyes
of Chirsty she was altogether a most formidable looking object.
"A tall handsome young woman," said she. "In what sort of temper is
she, I wonder?"
"She was a little bit riotous at first," said one of the men, "but
she has been quiet enough ever since."
"Come this way, young lady," said Sarah to Chirsty, in a rough tone
and sharp voice, and at the same time she stretched out her long arm,
and grasped her wrist with her bony fingers, whilst with the other
hand she held up an iron lamp, the light of which she threw before her.
"Treat me not harshly," said Chirsty gently. "I am ready to obey you. I
am quite aware that, from the strange mistake that has occurred,
it would be vain for me to attempt to convince you at present of my
sanity. I must patiently submit, therefore, to whatever restraint
you may impose on me, until my uncle comes to see me, and convince
himself. But do not, I pray you, exercise any unnecessary severity."
"No, no, poor thing," replied Sarah. "No, no; no severity, that is
not quite necessary, I promise you. As to your uncle--ha! ha! ha!--no
doubt you may chance to see un ere you leave this. Come this way."
Whilst this dialogue was passing, Chirsty was led by her strange
conductress through some long passages, in which were several
rectangular turnings, past many strongly secured doors, from within
which issued strange discordant sounds of human misery, mingled
with the clanking of chains; and up one or two flights of stairs,
which induced her to believe that the apartment to which she was
about to be introduced was in the upper story, and in a wing of the
building. The door was like those she had seen in her way thither,
of immense strength, and it was secured by a powerful lock, a couple
of heavy bolts, and a huge chain and padlock. It was the last door
of the narrow passage, which terminated about a yard beyond it in a
dead wall. The little woman pushed Chirsty past it into the cul-de-sac
which the passage thus formed, and then quitting her arm, she planted
the fixed gaze of her formidable eye upon her, and placing the lamp on
the ground, she selected the necessary keys, and using both hands she
exerted her strength to undo the lock and padlock, and then drawing
the bolts and removing the chain, she opened the den within. Beckoning
to her charge with an air of command not to be misunderstood, she
pushed Chirsty into the place, and then standing in the aperture of
the half-closed door for a minute or more, with her right hand on the
key, she threw in the light of the lamp so as fully to show the whole
interior. It was indeed a wretched place. A low narrow bedstead,
with bedclothes of the coarsest and meanest description, was the
whole of its furniture, and that occupied more than a fourth part of
the space contained within its four brick and stone walls. The floor
was of flags,--it had no fireplace, and one small narrow iron-grated
window was all the visible perforation that could admit light or air.
"May I not be allowed to have the few things which came in my
travelling-box?" said Chirsty mildly, after having seated herself on
the side of the bed.
"We shall consider of that, young lady," said Sarah sternly. "But in
the meanwhile, to satisfy my mind that you may be safely left for a
little time, you must suffer me to put those lily-white hands of yours
into this glove," and setting the lamp on the floor, she drew from her
ample pocket a leathern bag, into which Chirsty patiently submitted
to have both her hands thrust together, after which they were secured
by a strap in such a manner as to leave them entirely useless.
"Let me see now that you have got nothing dangerous about you,"
said Sarah; and after searching her all over, and removing from her a
pocket-book containing such small instruments as women generally use,
together with one or two other articles, and not forgetting her purse,
which she secreted carefully in her own bosom, she added, "I shall be
back with you in the twinkling of an eye, for you must have food ere
you go to rest; meanwhile, the quieter you are the better it will be
for you," and with these words she lifted the lamp and retired with
it, locking and bolting the door with the utmost care.
It is needless for me to speculate as to what were Chirsty's
thoughts, left as she was in the dark, as she listened to the
retreating steps of her keeper until a stillness reigned around
her that was only interrupted at times by the distant baying of
the watch-dog in the court-yard, or by some of those melancholy
demonstrations of madness that came every now and then upon her ear,
of different degrees of intensity, as they chanced to be modified
by circumstances. Notwithstanding all the resolution which she had
summoned to her support, she shuddered to think of the vexatious
confinement to which she might be exposed ere her fond uncle might be
able to gather courage enough to come to visit her in the melancholy
state of mind in which he probably believed her to be. Whilst she was
ruminating on such matters, she heard the returning footsteps of Sarah.
"Here is some food for you," said her keeper, after opening the
door and entering cautiously, "and, see, I have brought your
night-clothes. I promised to use no needless severity; and if you
continue to behave, you shall have no reason to complain of me. Let
me help you to eat your supper, for this night you must be contented
with simple bread and milk." And the first meal that poor Chirsty
eat after returning to her native Britain, was doled out to her by
spoonfuls from a porringer by the long fingers of her dwarfish keeper,
who after making down her bed, assisted her into it, and then left
her for the night.
And a strange night it was to her. Fatigue brought sleep upon her it
is true, but there was no refreshment in it, for it was full of wild
visions, and she started from time to time, and awaked to have her
mind brought back to the full conviction of her distressing situation
by the maniac laughter or howlings that broke at intervals upon
the stillness around her. The only support she had in circumstances
so trying was derived from religious meditations and aspirations,
together with the hope which never forsook her, that her affectionate
uncle might next day visit and relieve her.