The next morning, the Wanderer had the happy surprise of seeing Elinor
burst into her chamber. 'We are all on fire,' she cried, 'at our house,
so I am come hither to cool myself. Aunt Maple and I have fought a noble
battle; but I have won the day.'
She then related, that Harleigh had brought them an account of her
disappointments, her letter, her design to wait for another, and her
being at the milliner's. 'Aunt Maple,' she continued, 'treated the whole
as imposition; but I make it a rule never to let her pitiful system
prevail in the house. And so, to cut the matter short, for I hate a long
story, I gave her to understand, that, if she would not let you return
to Lewes, and stay with us till your letter arrives, I should go to
Brighthelmstone myself, and stay with you. This properly frightened her;
for she knew I would keep my word.'
'And would you, Madam?' said the stranger, smiling.
'Why not? Do you think I would not do a thing only because no one else
would do it? I am never so happy as in ranging without a guide. However,
we came to a compromise this morning; and she consents to permit your
return, provided I don't let you enter her chaise, and engage for
keeping you out of every body's way.'
The stranger, evidently hurt and offended, declined admission upon such
terms. Her obligations, she said, were already sufficiently heavy, and
she would struggle to avoid adding to their weight, and to supply her
own few wants herself, till some new resource might open to her
assistance.
Elinor, surprised, hastily demanded whether she meant to live alone,
that she might only be aided, and only be visited by Mr Harleigh.
The stranger looked all astonishment.
'Nay, that will certainly be the most pleasant method; so I don't affect
to wonder at it; nevertheless--'
She hesitated, but her face was tinted with a glow of disturbance, and
her voice announced strong rising emotion, as she presently added, 'If
you think of forming any attachment with that man--' She stopt abruptly.
The heightened amazement of the stranger kept her for a few instants
speechless; but the troubled brow of Elinor soon made her with firmness
and spirit answer, 'Attachment? I protest to you, Madam, except at those
periods when his benevolence or urbanity have excited my gratitude, my
own difficulties have absorbed my every thought!'
'I heartily congratulate your apathy!' said Elinor, her features
instantly dilating into a smile; 'for he is so completely a
non-descript, that he would else incontestably set you upon hunting out
for some new Rosamund's Pond. That is all I mean.'
She then, but with gaiety and good humour, enquired whether or not the
stranger would return to Lewes.
Nothing, to the stranger, could be less attractive at this moment; yet
the fear of such another misinterpretation and rebuff, and the
unspeakable dread of losing, in her helpless situation, all female
countenance, conquered her repugnance.
Elinor then said that she would hurry home, and send off the same
elegant machine from the farm, which, she found, had been made use of in
her service the preceding day.
Far from exhilarated was the young person whom she left, who, thus
treated, could scarcely brook the permission to return, which before she
would have solicited. Small are the circumstances which reverse all our
wishes! and one hour still less resembles another in our feelings, than
in our actions.
Upon arriving again at the house of Mrs Maple, she was met by Selina,
who expressed the greatest pleasure at her return, and conducted her to
the little room which she had before occupied; eagerly announcing that
she had already learnt half her part, which she glibly repeated, crying,
'How lucky it is that you are come back; for now I have got somebody to
say it to!'
Mrs Maple, she added, had refused her consent to the whole scheme, till
Elinor threatened to carry it into execution in Farmer Gooch's barn, and
to invite all the county.
She then entered into sundry details of family secrets, the principal of
which was, that she often thought that she should be married before her
sister Elinor, though Sister Elinor was twenty-two years old, and she
herself was only fourteen: but Sister Elinor had had a violent quarrel
with Mr Dennis Harleigh, whom she had been engaged to marry before she
went abroad, about the French Revolution, which Sister Elinor said was
the finest thing in the world, but which Mr Dennis said was the very
worst. But, for all that, he loved her so, that he had made his brother
fetch her home, and wanted the marriage to take place directly: and Aunt
Maple wished it too, of all things, because Sister Elinor was so hard to
manage; for, now she was of age, she did everything that she liked; and
she protested that she would not give her consent, unless Mr Dennis
promised to change his opinion upon the French Revolution; so they
quarrelled again the day before they left town; and Aunt Maple, quite
frightened, invited Mr Harleigh, the elder brother, to come and spend a
week or two at Lewes, to try to bring matters round again.
These anecdotes were interrupted by the appearance of Elinor, of whom
the Incognita entreated, and obtained, permission to reside, as in town,
wholly in her own room.
'I wish you could hear,' said Elinor, 'how we all settle your history in
the parlour. No two of us have the same idea of whom or what you are.'
She then entered upon the subject of the play, which was to be the
Provoked Husband, in compliment to Miss Arbe, a young lady of celebrated
talents, who, having frequently played the part of Lady Townly, with
amazing applause, at private theatres, had offered her services for that
character, but would study no other. This, Elinor complained, was
singularly provoking, as Harleigh, who alone of the whole set was worth
acting with, must necessarily be Lord Townly. However, since she could
not try her own theatrical skill, by the magnetizing powers of
reciprocated exertions, she determined, in relinquishing what was
brilliant, to adopt at least what was diverting; for which reason she
had taken the part of Lady Wronghead. Selina was to be Miss Jenny;
Ireton, 'Squire Richard; and she had pitched upon Mr Scope and Miss
Bydel, two famous, formal quizzes, residing in Lewes, to compliment them
with the fogrum parts of Manly and Lady Grace; characters which always
put the audience to sleep; but that, as they were both good sort of
souls, who were never awake themselves, they would not find out. The
other parts she had chiefly arranged for the pleasure of giving a lesson
of democracy to Aunt Maple; for she had appointed Sir Francis Wronghead
to Mr Stubbs, an old steward belonging to Lord Rockton; Count Basset to
young Gooch, a farmer's son; Myrtylla to Golding, her own maid, and
John Moody to Tomlinson, the footman.
The air of attention with which the stranger listened, whether she
answered or not, renewed again in Elinor the pleasure which she had
first found in talking to her; and thus, between the two sisters, she
had almost constantly a companion till near midnight.
To be left, then, alone was not to be left to unbroken slumbers. She had
no dependence, nor hope, but in an expected second letter, yet had
devised no means to secure its immediate reception, even if its quick
arrival corresponded with her wishes. As soon, therefore, as she heard
the family stirring the next morning, she descended, with an intention
of going to the housekeeper's room, to make some arrangement for that
purpose.
Ireton, who caught a glimpse of her upon the stairs, met and stopt her.
'My dear,' he cried, 'don't think me such a prig as to do you any
mischief; but take a hint! Don't see quite so much of a certain young
lady, whom I don't wish should know the world quite so soon! You
understand me, my dear?'
Inexpressibly offended, she was contemptuously shrinking from him, when
they were joined by Harleigh, who asked, with an air of respect that was
evidently meant to give a lesson to Ireton, whether she would permit him
to call at the post-office, to order that her letters should be
forwarded to Lewes.
This offer was irresistible, and, with looks of the brightest gratitude,
she was uttering her acknowledgements, when the voice of Elinor, from a
distance, sounding tremulous and agitated, checked her, and she hastily
retreated.
But her room-door was only shut to be almost instantly thrown open by
Elinor herself, who, entering with a large parcel in her hands, while
her face shewed pain and disorder, said, 'See how I have been labouring
to assist and to serve you, at the very moment of your insidious
duplicity!'
Thunderstruck by the harshness of an attack nearly as incomprehensible
as it was vehement, the stranger fixed her eyes upon her accuser with a
look that said, Are you mad?
The silent, yet speaking expression was caught by Elinor, who, struck
with sudden shame, frankly begged her pardon; and, after a little
reflexion, coolly added, 'You must never mind what I say, nor what I do;
for I sport all sort of things, and in all sort of manners. But it is
merely to keep off stagnation: I dread nothing like a lethargy. But pray
what were you all about just now?'
The Incognita related her intended purpose; its interruption; the offer
of Mr Harleigh; and its acceptance.
Elinor looked perturbed again, and said, 'You seem mighty fond,
methinks, of employing Mr Harleigh for your Mercury!'
'He is so good as to employ himself. I could never think of taking such
a liberty.'
Elinor put up her lip; but told her to make what use she could of the
parcel, and, with an abrupt 'Good morning,' went down to breakfast.
The stranger, amazed and confounded, remained for some time absorbed by
conjectures upon this scene.
The parcel contained cast-off clothes of almost every description; but,
much as she required such aid, the manner in which it was offered
determined her upon its rejection.
In a few hours, the maid who brought her meals, was desired by Mr
Harleigh to inform her, that he had executed her commission at the
post-office.
This assurance revived her, and enabled her to pass the day in tolerable
tranquillity, though perfectly alone, and without any species of
employment to diversify her ruminations, or help to wear away the
tediousness of expectation.
When the next day, however, and the next, passed without her seeing any
of the family, she felt disconcerted and disturbed. To be abandoned by
Elinor, and even by Selina, made her situation appear worse than
forlorn; and her offended spirit deemed the succour thus afforded her,
inadequate to compensate for the endurance of universal disesteem and
avoidance. She determined, therefore, to quit the inhospitable mansion,
persuaded that no efforts could be too difficult, no means too
laborious, that might rescue her from an abode which she could no longer
inhabit, without seeming to herself to be degraded.
But the idea of this project had a facility of which its execution did
not partake. She had no money, save what she had received from the two
sisters; even that, by a night and day spent at the milliner's, was much
diminished. She could not quit the neighbourhood of Brighthelmstone,
while still in expectation of a letter; and if, while awaiting it in any
other house, the compassion, or the philanthropy of Harleigh should urge
him to see her, might not Elinor conclude that she had only retreated to
receive his visits alone?
Apprehensions such as these frightened her into forbearance: but in
teaching her prudence, they did not endow her with contentment. Her
hours lingered in depression and uncertainty; her time was not employed
but consumed; her faculties were not enjoyed, but wasted.
Yet, upon more mature reflexion, she enquired by what right she expected
kinder treatment. Unknown, unnamed, without any sort of recommendation,
she applied for succour, and it was granted her: if she met with the
humanity of being listened to, and the charity of being assisted, must
she quarrel with her benefactors, because they gave not implicit credit
to the word of a lonely Wanderer for her own character? or think herself
ill used that their donations and their aid were not delicate as well as
useful?
This sober style of reasoning soon chased away resentment, and, with
quieter nerves, she awaited some termination to her suspence and
solitude.
Meantime, most of the other inhabitants of the house, were engaged by
studying their parts for the intended representation, which so
completely occupied some by choice, and others by complaisance, or
necessity, that no visit or excursion was made abroad, till several days
after their arrival at Lewes. Mrs Maple then, with her whole party,
accepted an invitation to dine and spend the evening with the family of
their principal actress, Miss Arbe; but a sudden indisposition with
which that lady was seized after dinner, forced them home again early in
the evening. Their return being unexpected, the servants were all out,
or out of the way, but, entering by a door leading from the garden,
which they found open, they were struck with the sound of music. They
stopped, and distinctly heard a harp; they listened, and found that it
was played with uncommon ability.
''Tis my harp!' cried Selina, 'I am sure of that!'
'Your harp?' said Mrs Maple; 'why who can be playing it?'
'Hist! dear ladies,' said Harleigh; ''tis some exquisite performer.'
'It must be Lady Kendover, then,' said Mrs Maple, 'for nobody else comes
to our house that plays the harp.'
A new movement was now begun; it was slow and pathetic, and played with
so much taste and expression, though mixed with bursts of rapid
execution, that the whole auditory was equally charmed and surprized;
and every one, Mrs Maple herself not excepted, with uplifted finger
seemed to beseech attention from the rest.
An Arpeggio succeeded, followed by an air, which produced, alternately,
tones sweet, yet penetrating, of touching pathos or impassioned
animation; and announced a performer whom nature had gifted with her
finest feelings, to second, or rather to meet the soul-pervading
refinements of skilful art.
When the voice ceased, the harp was still heard; but some sounds made by
an involuntary, though restrained tribute of general approbation,
apparently found their way to the drawing-room, where it was played; for
suddenly it stopped, the instrument seemed hastily to be put away, and
some one was precipitately in motion.
Every body then hastened up stairs; but before they could reach the
landing-place, a female figure, which they all instantly recognized for
that of the unknown young woman, glided out of the drawing-room, and,
with the quick motion of fear, ran up another flight of stairs.
'Amazing!' cried Mrs Maple, stopping short; 'could any body have
credited assurance such as this? That bold young stroller has been
obtruding herself into my drawing-room, to hear Lady Kendover play!'
Harleigh, who had contrived to be the first to enter the apartment, now
returned to the door, and, with a smile of the most animated pleasure,
said, 'No one is here!--Not a creature!'
His tone and air spoke more than his words, and, to the quick
conceptions of Elinor, pronounced: This divine singer, whom you were all
ready to worship, is no other than the lonely Wanderer whom you were all
ready to condemn!
Mrs Maple now, violently ringing the bell, ordered one of her servants
to summon the woman who came from abroad.
The stranger obeyed, with the confused look of a person who expected a
reprimand, to which she had not courage to reply.
'Be so good as to tell me,' said Mrs Maple, 'what you have been into my
drawing-room for? and whether you know who it is, that has taken the
liberty to play upon my niece's harp?'
The Incognita begged a thousand pardons, but said that having learnt,
from the house-maid, that the family was gone out for the day, she had
ventured to descend, to take a little air and exercise in the garden.
'And what has that to do with my niece's harp?--And my drawing-room?'
'The door, Madam, was open.--It was long since I had seen an
instrument--I thought no one would hear me--'
'Why you don't pretend that it was you who played?'
The young woman renewed her apology.
'You?--You play upon a harp?--And pray who was it that sung?'
The stranger looked down.
'Well, this is surprising indeed!--And pray where might such a body as
you learn these things?--And what use can such a body want them for? Be
so good as to tell me that; and who you are?'
The stranger, in the utmost disturbance, painfully answered, 'I am truly
ashamed, Madam, so often to press for your forbearance, but my silence
is impelled by necessity! I am but too well aware how incomprehensible
this must seem, but my situation is perilous--I cannot reveal it! I can
only implore your compassion!--'
She retired hastily.
No one pursued nor tried to stop her. All, except Harleigh, remained
nearly stupified by what had passed, for no one else had ever considered
her but as a needy travelling adventurer. To him, her language, her air,
and her manner, pervading every disadvantage of apparel, poverty, and
subjection, had announced her, from the first, to have received the
education, and to have lived the life of a gentlewoman; yet to him,
also, it was as new, though not as wonderful, as to the rest, to find in
her all the delicately acquired skill, joined to the happy natural
talents, which constitute a refined artist.
Elinor seemed absorbed in mortification, not sooner to have divined what
Harleigh had so immediately discovered; Selina, triumphant, felt
enchanted with an idea that the stranger must be a disguised princess;
Mrs Maple, by a thousand crabbed grimaces, shewed her chagrin, that the
frenchified stroller should not rather have been detected as a positive
vagabond, then proved, by her possession of cultivated talents, to have
been well brought up; and Ireton, who had thought her a mere female
fortune-hunter, was utterly overset, till he comforted himself by
observing, that many mere adventurers, from fortuitous circumstances,
obtain accomplishments that may vie, in brilliancy, with those acquired
by regular education and study.
Doubts, however, remained with all: they were varied, but not removed.
The mystery that hung about her was rather thickened than cleared, and
the less she appeared like an ordinary person, the more restless became
conjecture, to dive into some probable motive, for the immoveable
obstinacy of her concealment.
The pause was first broken by Elinor, who, addressing Harleigh, said,
'Tell me honestly, now, what, all together, you really and truly think
of this extraordinary demoiselle?'
'I think her,' answered he, with readiness, 'an elegant and well bred
young woman, under some extraordinary and inexplicable difficulties: for
there is a modesty in her air which art, though it might attain, could
not support; and a dignity in her conduct in refusing all succour but
yours, that make it impossible for me to have any doubt upon the
fairness of her character.'
'And how do you know that she refuses all succour but mine? Have you
offered her yours?'
'She will not let me go so far. If she perceive such an intention, she
draws back, with a look that would make the very mentioning it
insolent.'
Elinor ran up stairs.
She found the stranger disturbed and alarmed, though she was easily
revived upon seeing Elinor courteous, almost respectful; for, powerfully
struck by a discovery, so completely accidental, of talents so superior,
and satisfied by the assurance just received from Harleigh, that his
pecuniary aid had never been accepted, she grew ashamed of the angry
flippancy with which she had last quitted the room, and of the resolute
neglect with which she had since kept aloof. She now apologized for
having stayed away, professed a design to be frequent in her future
visits, and presented, with generous importunity, the trifles which she
blushed to have offered so abruptly.
Addressed thus nearly upon equal terms, the stranger gracefully accepted
the donation, and, from the relief produced by this unexpected good
treatment, her own manners acquired an ease, and her language a flow,
that made her strikingly appear to be what Harleigh had called her, a
well bred and elegant young woman; and the desire of Elinor to converse
with her no longer hung, now, upon the mere stimulus of curiosity; it
became flattering, exhilarating, and cordial.
The stranger, in return, upon nearer inspection, found in Elinor a solid
goodness of heart, that compensated for the occasional roughness, and
habitual strangeness of her manners. Her society was gay and original;
and, to great quickness of parts, and liberality of feeling, she joined
a frankness of character the most unbounded. But she was alarming and
sarcastic, aiming rather to strike than to please, to startle than to
conquer. Upon chosen and favourite subjects she was impressive, nay
eloquent; upon all others she was careless, flighty, and indifferent,
and constantly in search of matter for ridicule: yet, though severe,
almost to ferocity, where she conceived herself to be offended, or
injured, she became kind, gentle, and generously conceding, when
convinced of any errour.
Selina, when her sister retired, tripped fleetly into the chamber,
whisperingly revealing, that it was Mr Ireton who had persuaded her to
relinquish her visits; but that she would now make them as often as
ever.
Thus supported and encouraged, the stranger, again desiring to stay in
the house, earnestly wished to soften the ill will of Mrs Maple; and
having heard, from Selina, that the play occupied all hands, she begged
Mrs Fenn to accept her services at needle-work.
Mrs Fenn conveyed the proposal to her mistress, who haughtily protested
that she would have nothing done under her roof, by she did not know
who; though she tacitly suffered Mrs Fenn to try the skill of the
proposer with some cambric handkerchiefs.
These she soon returned, executed with such admirable neatness, that Mrs
Fenn immediately found her other similar employment; which she presented
to her with the air of conferring the most weighty of obligations.
And such, in the event, it proved; for she now continued to receive
daily more business of the same sort, without any hint relative to her
departure; and heard, through Selina, that Mrs Maple herself had
remarked, that this was the first singer and player she had ever known,
who had not been spoilt by those idle habits for a good huswife.
The Incognita now thankfully rejoiced in the blessing bestowed upon her,
by that part of her education, which gave to her the useful and
appropriate female accomplishment of needle-work.