Priscilla lost her mother when she was very young: her father was in the
East Indies, and she was taken home by his sister, Mrs. Hamilton, who
loved her for his sake, and shewed her the greatest kindness and
attention; but her daughters, Emily and Lucy, were not both equally kind
to their cousin. Lucy was very fond of her, but Emily was jealous and
envious, and could not bear the marks of tenderness bestowed upon her by
her mother.
Priscilla had a most affectionate heart, and would cry for hours
together, when she thought she had done any thing to make her cousin
angry; which she imagined must certainly be the case (though she could
not recollect what it could possibly be), for it never entered into her
head that any one could be displeased with her, when she had done
nothing to offend them, and little suspected, that when she was praised
by her aunt for her even temper and constant good humour, for her
attention to her lessons, and the progress she made in every thing she
undertook to learn, her kind and gentle manner towards the servants, and
her charity and humanity to her fellow-creatures in distress: she had no
idea that those praises increased the dislike which the ill-natured
Emily had conceived to her the moment she came into the house, who,
instead of endeavouring to imitate her good qualities, took every method
in her power to cast a shade over them, and to fill every one's head
with tales to her disadvantage.
As they grew older, Emily's dislike to her cousin increased every hour,
as did the amiable Priscilla's endeavours to soften it by every mean she
could employ, and by seeking every opportunity of obliging her. If Emily
had any work to do, of which she appeared tired, Priscilla was sure to
be ready to finish it for her: if she wished for a nosegay, Priscilla
would search over the whole village till she had procured the prettiest
and sweetest flowers to make one for her; but all was to no
purpose--she hated her the more for the trouble she took to please her.
One day Mrs. Hamilton returned from the town, where she had been to
purchase different things to send to her sister in Scotland; and,
amongst the rest, a very beautiful netting-box, which she intended as a
present to her, was shewn to the young ladies, and greatly admired by
all three. It was extremely delicate, and, after they had sufficiently
examined its beauty, it was placed on a small table, with positive
orders from Mrs. Hamilton that it should not be touched; but returning
in the evening from the house of a friend in the neighbourhood, with
whom she had dined, and recollecting that curiosity might lead some of
the servants to open it, she took it up in the paper, as it lay on the
table, and locked it in a bookcase.
The following day, being busily employed in packing up the things she
had purchased for her sister, and thinking to put some cotton into the
little netting-box, to preserve the winders and other things from
rubbing, how was she surprised at perceiving that the lining was green
instead of pale pink, and that several parts of it were totally
different from that which she had purchased the day before!
Lucy said she was very sure it was not the same box her mamma had shewn
to them; Emily was of the same opinion: but Priscilla only blushed
without saying a word.
"Somebody has broken my box, and replaced it with another not half so
pretty," said Mrs. Hamilton in an angry tone; "I had positively forbid
either of you to touch it, and I insist on knowing which of you has done
this mischief."
"I am afraid," said Emily, pretending to feel extremely for her cousin's
confusion, "that poor Priscilla has had the misfortune to break it; and
indeed, mamma, if you will but observe how she blushes, and that she has
not a word to say in her own defence, you need not have any doubt of the
matter."
Priscilla assured her aunt that she had never touched her box after she
had shewn it to her; Emily gave the same assurance with regard to
herself, and Lucy declared that she had not been in the room where it
was, from the time that her mamma went out, till she returned in the
evening.
Mrs. Hamilton, determined to know the truth, asked the young ladies what
use they had made of the guinea they had each received on new year's
day, saying her box had cost that sum, and could not have been replaced
without an equal one.
"Here is mine," eagerly exclaimed Emily, "in my little work-trunk."
"Half of mine, my dear mamma," said Lucy, "you will recollect, I paid
for a box of colours, and some drawing paper; and here is the other half
in my purse."
"And where is _your_ guinea, Priscilla?" demanded Mrs. Hamilton.--"And
what is the reason, that, instead of shewing the same readiness with
your cousins to clear yourself, you only blush and hang down your head,
without speaking a single word?"
"I cannot produce my guinea," answered Priscilla; "but believe me, my
dear aunt, when I assure you that I never touched your box."
Emily, who had her reasons for wishing the subject might be dropped,
though not from any motive of tenderness for her cousin, now earnestly
intreated her mamma not to inquire any farther into the matter, as it
only distressed the _poor thing_, and would make her utter a thousand
falsities. But old Martha, their maid, who had stood all the time
pinching the strings of her apron, clasping her hands together, and then
lifting them up to heaven, with many other gestures which marked her
impatience, now no longer able to contain her indignation, burst out
like thunder, and asked Emily how she could possibly stand there,
looking her mamma in the face, and presume to talk of _falsities_, when
she must be conscious she was at that moment guilty, not only of a most
terrible and wicked falsity, in accusing an innocent person of the fault
she had herself committed, but was also making the most ungrateful
return that any one could be capable of, for an action which certainly
deserved the greatest praise, and which she must be conscious she owed
to her cousin's generosity and kindness. She then proceeded to acquaint
her mistress, that walking with Priscilla round the garden, about half
an hour after she had left the house, and coming near the parlour
window, which happened to be open, they had perceived the netting-box
lying on the marble hearth, broken into a dozen pieces, and Emily with
her back towards them, picking them up; that Priscilla had, in a low
whisper, entreated her in the most earnest manner not to speak; and that
having stood a little aside, they had seen her go and throw all the
pieces into the pond in the front garden, and then run up stairs as fast
as possible.
"The dear Miss Priscilla," continued old nurse, "then begged me, as the
greatest of all favours, to go immediately into the town, to the shop
where you had bought the netting-box, and with _her_ guinea to get one
exactly like it: and this I did to oblige her, and because it never was
in my power to refuse her any thing she asks, though I must say I
thought Miss Emily little deserved her kindness; for this is but one out
of a hundred stories she has told of her, and ill-natured tricks she has
played her, in return for her constantly doing every thing she could to
oblige her, and for the trouble she has taken so many times to hide her
faults. I thought the box I purchased so exactly like yours, Madam, that
I concluded you never would discover what had happened; and Miss
Priscilla was quite happy in thinking you would be spared the vexation
of knowing it had been broken, and her cousin the anger which she would
have incurred, by disobeying your orders. We were, however,
disappointed; but Miss Emily must have guessed, when her cousin could
not produce her guinea, what use she had made of it; and that was the
reason why she wished you to drop the subject, for she might well
suppose her falsity and ill nature must at length be made known to you."
It is almost needless to add, that Emily entirely lost her mamma's good
opinion; Priscilla lived very happily from that time, affectionately
beloved by Mrs. Hamilton and her cousin Lucy, and doated on by old
Martha, who never forgot to entertain her friends and acquaintance with
the story of the broken netting-box, so disgraceful to Miss Emily, and
so much to the honour of her darling Priscilla.