Poor Helen, having no longer any motive for exertion, sank down by her
father's side. Mr. Armstrong had her removed while she remained
insensible; and knowing her attachment to Marion Scott, he sent off a
messenger with the fatal news, and requested Mrs. Scott would allow her
daughter to come down and be with Miss Martin. Mrs. Scott not only gave
permission to her daughter, but came herself, and for many days watched by
the bedside of Helen. When she became composed enough to think and act,
she found that her dear father had been buried by the side of her mother
and grandmother; Mr. Armstrong had acted for her, and settled all matters
of business, that she might have no trouble on that account, further than
going to the Manse for a little while, till a successor was appointed to
her worthy father. Mr. Scott insisted on her permitting Marion to remain
with her for some time, though Helen said she should feel happier, she
thought, if she could be left alone. It is impossible to describe what the
poor desolate girl felt on returning to her melancholy home. "The time is
now indeed come," said she to herself, "when I must prepare to look out
for another place of residence; and when that will be, God alone knows."
Her grandmother, before her death, had been very uneasy on account of
Helen's prospects in case of her father's death; and more than once
mentioned to her, that she wished she could make up her mind to go to
Edinburgh, and apprentice herself either as a dress-maker or as a
milliner; as she knew her father had very little to leave her, she herself
had only an annuity, which would cease with her life. Her father did not
like the plan, and told her that her uncle had promised to support her
till William was enabled, by promotion or prize-money, to do it himself.
Now both these resources were cut off for ever; and, after mature
deliberation she thought her grandmother's plan was the only rational
thing she could do; she therefore, in her own mind, determined, as soon as
she knew who was to be her father's successor, to adopt it.
Having come to this resolution, she communicated it to Mr. Scott, who
offered to go himself into Edinburgh and endeavour to find a situation for
such as she wanted. Accordingly, he went on this errand, about three
months after Mr. Martin's death. On enquiry, he was recommended to a Miss
Maxwell, a lady who had very meritoriously in her youth followed the same
plan that Helen meant now to pursue, and had succeeded so well as to be
able to support an aged father and mother, and give great assistance to
the rest of a numerous family. The agreement was soon settled, and Helen
was to be received as an apprentice the following October. She was to live
in the house with Miss Maxwell, who even held out hopes to Mr. Scott, that
if Miss Martin gave satisfaction during her four years of learning the
business, she would have a good chance of being taken into partnership in
the concern, as Miss Maxwell thought she might be inclined to retire much
about that time, provided no unforeseen accident occurred to prevent it.
Early in September, Mr. Johnson was appointed to succeed Mr. Martin. He
was a young man of good connections and excellent character. He came to
the Manse on his nomination, merely to look at the house, and see what
preparations it might require, as he was on the point of marriage with an
amiable young woman to whom he had been long attached. He behaved in the
kindest manner possible to Helen, and saved her a great deal of trouble
and difficulty, by proposing to take the whole of the furniture just as it
stood, and at a fair valuation. Mr. Armstrong, who had managed all her
business, accepted the proposal; and Helen, at his particular request,
agreed to remain in the house till the time she had fixed for removing to
Edinburgh. He seemed anxious to settle every thing the way that would be
most pleasing to her feelings. Nelly and Sandy were to be retained in his
service, and left in charge of the Manse, as he did not expect to be able
to take possession himself much before Christmas. On going away he shook
hands with Helen, and said he hoped she would allow him a continuance of
her friendship, and assured her, that as the daughter of so respectable a
father as well as from what he had seen of herself, he should ever feel
the interest of a brother for her. Poor Helen's spirits gradually sunk as
the time rapidly approached for her to quit her native dale, and take
leave of all those amongst whom she had lived from her birth. Marion Scott
had remained constantly with her from her father's death, and was now so
endeared to her, that to separate from her appeared as if breaking the
last earthly tie she possessed. She saw, however, it was inevitable; the
whole of her property, when every thing was sold, only amounted to three
hundred pounds; and even if she could have lived on this in her native
dale, she thought, on reflection, it was her duty to go into a more active
line of life, at least for some years. Mr. Armstrong was decidedly of the
same opinion; a change of scene and of habits he thought would amuse her
mind, and prevent her dwelling on events which, from the melancholy
attending their recollection, and the retirement in which she would live,
might have a pernicious effect on her health.
On the tenth day of October Helen left her once happy home, to engage in
new scenes and occupations, so different from any thing she had ever
formed an idea of, that for some days after her arrival at Miss Maxwell's,
she could scarcely believe it possible she could endure such a subordinate
state of existence and laborious fatigue. Miss Maxwell was kind to her on
her arrival, and whenever she had a moment to spare endeavoured to cheer
Helen, by telling her that she would soon get accustomed to the
confinement, and that she had no doubt, with her application and perfect
command of her needle, she would be able to promote her in the course of a
twelvemonth to a less laborious department of the business. Helen felt the
kindness, but believed, from the present state of her feelings, that she
would never live that twelvemonth out. Broken-hearted and dispirited, shut
up in a small uncomfortable room with half a dozen silly uneducated girls,
with whom she had not a single idea in unison, she began to feel her life
a burthen, and had almost resolved to give up her situation and return to
Eskdale. The first Sunday morning, however, gave her better hopes. Miss
Maxwell, who had a great respect for Mr. Scott, and from whom she had
heard the whole of Helen's meritorious conduct while she resided in her
father's house, was much interested for her; and though, from the great
pressure of business in which she was constantly engaged, she could spare
very little time to amuse or comfort her through the weeks, she was ready
on Sunday morning, as soon as she came out of her room, to receive her in
the parlour, and said, with a cheerful smile, as she entered, "Come, my
dear Miss Martin, this is our own day, and I promise to myself a great
deal of pleasure for the future in having a companion with whom I can
converse, and who will join me in spending the Sabbath, as it is
undoubtedly intended we should do, in making a day of rest and sober
enjoyment. The other young people all go home to their friends, we shall
therefore be at liberty to enjoy ourselves in our own way." Helen
endeavoured to return a smile to this address, but her heart was heavy,
and her head ached from want of sleep. Miss Maxwell, who well understood
her feelings, took no notice, but filled her out a nice comfortable cup of
tea, and began telling her of the churches that she meant to show her, and
the merits of the different clergymen. This was a subject to interest
Helen, as she was well acquainted with most of their characters, from
having heard her father talk of them on his return from Edinburgh, when he
had been a member of the General Assembly. She therefore very readily
agreed to accompany Miss Maxwell to the morning service at St. Andrew's
church, and in the evening she attended likewise at the West church, for
the clergymen of both these churches had been particular friends of her
father.
On her return home in the evening, she expressed herself much pleased with
all she had seen and heard through the day, and thanked Miss Maxwell for
giving her so great a gratification. They then sat down to tea, after
which Miss Maxwell opened a closet which stood at one end of her little
parlour, and displayed a small but well-selected library. As she pointed
to it, she said, "I never, my dear Miss Martin, permit myself to open this
my greatest treasure except on this day; for I am so fond of reading, that
I could not insure my own attention to the duties of business were I to
allow myself the same gratification through the week. I have had a second
key made which I mean for you, as I well know, from experience, that you
require, in your present irksome employment, as much relaxation as the
nature of the business will admit, to reconcile you to the great change in
your situation and habits; but I think I can trust that you will never
abuse this kind of confidence, but confine your use of it to the few spare
hours which occur to you in the course of the season; and Sunday in my
house is invariably your own." She then gave Helen the key, and desired
her to select what she pleased for her evening's reading. This was a great
addition to Helen's comfort. She found there were many spare moments that
would, without this resource, have been spent in vain regrets and
recollections of the past, which only served to weaken her mind and
prevent her performing her present duties.
With the prospect of this enjoyment before her, she found the hardship of
sitting at work for so many hours daily appear less formidable, and her
Sundays always passed so pleasantly and so much to own satisfaction, that
in a letter which wrote to Mr. Scott, about a month after she had been
absent in Edinburgh, she expressed herself much more reconciled to her
situation than her friends in Eskdale had dared to hope.
She received a letter soon after this from Marion, saying that Mrs. Smith,
her friend at the hall, had been ill, and felt herself not quite able to
get through her business in the family so well as she used to do, and had
therefore got permission from her lady, with whom she had lived many
years, to hire an assistant; that Mrs. Smith had at last prevailed with
her father and mother to spare her, and it was now fixed that she was to
accompany the family to London soon after Christmas. Her mother added a
postscript, in which she said that poor Marion had fretted so much since
Miss Helen had left the country, that both her father and she were more
reconciled to her going under Mrs. Smith's care than they otherwise would
have been; "and besides," added Mrs. Scott, "I really am afraid Marion
will never get over John Telfer's loss, at least till something certain is
heard of him. She often tells us she would feel much happier if she knew
he was dead, than she does by being in such a state of uncertainty. She
fancies she will be more likely to hear from him by going to London, than
by remaining here in the dale." Helen was too much attached to Marion not
to feel greatly interested in this new arrangement for her. "Dear girl;"
said she, as she read the postscript, "I am afraid nothing but
disappointment awaits you on the subject of poor John. He must have been
killed with his master, or more likely, perhaps, drowned with my dear
William. John, I am sure, would not willingly separate from him, and may
perhaps have lost his life in trying to save that of his master's son; at
all events, I have not the slightest hope of his being alive, and wish
most earnestly I could make Marion as much convinced of this as I am
myself." "I think," answered Miss Maxwell, "her parents are acting very
prudently in sending her from home. A change of scene is the best thing
for her in the present state of her mind; and perhaps, by making
inquiries, she may come to hear something certain about the young man,
though I am inclined to be of your way of thinking as to his death."
Nothing particular occurred during the four years of Helen's
apprenticeship: she daily improved in knowledge of the business she was
learning, and between her and Miss Maxwell so entire an attachment was
formed, that it would have been a severe trial to either had they been
obliged to separate.
When Helen's time was out, Miss Maxwell determined to take her into
partnership. The business was a very good one, though, from various
causes, Miss Maxwell had been able to save very little money. For twenty
years she had supported her parents, who had been unfortunate in life: she
had also assisted several brothers, who were now all dead; and two
sisters, after having been associated with her in the business, had died
of declines.
The first object she had now in view was, to secure a friend on whom she
might rely for assistance and kindness in her declining years. She made no
secret of her motives; and Helen, who loved her with truest affection,
agreed to become that friend.
Marion had continued under Mrs. Smith for three years, living in London
one half of the year, and returning to Craigie Hall in the summer. She
corresponded constantly with Helen, but they had never met from the time
of their first separation. Still Marion wrote of John, though she could
obtain no information of him, even in London; and though Helen, almost in
every letter, endeavoured to convince her that all hopes of his being
alive must by this time be over. Marion, on the contrary, declared that
her mind would not admit a belief of this, without more positive proof
than any she had yet obtained. Her last letter said, that the lady's maid
had lately been married, and that, on Mrs. Smith's recommendation, she was
promoted to the vacant place.
We must new revert to poor John Telfer, who remained in captivity, and
still in the service of Mr. Murray. The prisoners of war were treated with
extraordinary rigour; and the officers, instead of being indulged, as is
usual in such cases, with residing in a town on their parole, or word of
honour not to escape, were separately confined under a military guard, in
the old chateaux, or country seats of the ancient nobility, who had been
expelled during the Revolution. This harsh treatment induced many of them
to attempt their escape, which, of course, they would not have done if
they had promised not to do so, for a promise voluntarily given to an
enemy ought to be held as sacred as if given to the dearest friend.
However, the success of a few eluding the vigilance of their guards,
increased the severity afterwards shown to the others. No interest that
could be used was of sufficient weight to procure Mr. Murray his liberty,
or even information as to his family or friends. His draughts, however,
for money, were always answered; and he hoped, from this circumstance,
that his friends were well. John tried many ways of endeavouring to send a
letter to the dale, but never received a line in return; indeed, as has
been seem, not one of his numerous letters ever reached their intended
destination. Years rolled on in the same unvaried kind of existence;
sometimes he fancied that Mr. Martin had entirely forgotten him; sometimes
the recollection of Captain Elliott's assertion, that William's death
would kill his father, threw him into the most violent state of misery.
What would become of Miss Helen if her father was indeed dead, was
continually in his mind; and at one time had made so strong an impression
on him as to convince him it was his duty to endeavour, even at the risk
of his life, to make his escape.
The situation in which he and his master were confined, was in some
respects not unfavourable to the prosecution of such a scheme. It was in a
very old and ruined building, on the banks of one of those rivers which
rise in the Pyrenean mountains and fall into the Upper Garonne. The turret
allotted to the prisoners commanded a view which, under other
circumstances, John would have admired as reminding him of the wild scenes
in his native country. Almost close to the building was a noble cascade,
formed by the river rushing over the rocks which it encountered in its
course; and beyond the woods on the opposite bank arose abrupt
declivities, overtopped by the lofty summits of the distant mountains.
John had laid his plan, and meant to have put it into execution, when, on
the very morning of the day he intended to have made the attempt, Mr.
Murray complained of being very ill. This was a severe blow to John: he
had been under too many obligations to Mr. Murray to think of leaving him
while in want of his care; at the same time, the opportunity of escape
might never again offer. He had a severe struggle; but Mr. Murray's
illness increasing rapidly, determined him to delay at least his intended
flight, and finally fixed him to the side of his sick couch for nearly
five years. How often, during his long and painful illness, did the
suffering lieutenant bless God that he had been favoured, in the midst of
his distress, with such a good and faithful servant as John was to him!
How often did he assure him, that if they ever reached England he would
make him comfortable for life! Alas! every day lessened the chance of his
living to fulfil these promises; and John, in the event of his death,
durst scarcely hope now to be able to effect an escape, as the prisoners
were watched with redoubled vigilance.
One morning, after John had been absent in search of some dainty, which he
fancied Mr. Murray particularly wished for; on his return his master put
into his hand a sealed paper, saying, "John, I feel that my situation
becomes every day more critical, I have no individual, besides yourself,
on whom I can rely; will you, my kind friend, take charge of this packet;
it contains some papers of infinite consequence to my family. I wish you
to promise me never to part from them out of your possession, till you
deliver them in safety to my brother's own hand; I have given you his
address: he lives in Portman Square, in London. If you ever reach England,
lose no time in seeing him should he be still alive; and in the event of
his death find out my sister, and give the packet to her. Will you promise
me to do this? It will greatly add to the comfort of my dying moments."
John gave the required promise, and took the packet immediately under his
care. Mr. Murray lived a very few days after this; and John, by his death,
once more felt himself left alone in the world. Mr. Murray had with kind
consideration given him twenty guineas, which he desired him to conceal,
as it might be of use to facilitate his escape, and in all probability he
would not be permitted to retain it if it were seen after his death. The
event proved that this precaution was very necessary, for Mr. Murray was
no sooner dead than every article about him was seized by his inhuman
jailors.
When John had seen his master laid in the grave, he immediately set about
contriving means to get to England; and, in six months afterwards, he
succeeded in quitting his place of confinement, in the disguise of an old,
tattered French soldier.