ALRINA VISITS A KIND FRIEND AND MAKES A PROPOSAL.
Alrina's cup of misery was now full to the brim. It had required but one
drop more to fill it, and here it was. Her lover had deserted her--that
was most certain; but she had forgiven him, and made up her mind that
she would exonerate him from all his vows,--indeed, she would insist on
breaking off the engagement for ever, on account of the dark mystery
which hung over her family history.
But while the mystery was concealed, whatever it was, there was still a
hope that it might turn out in the end that there was no mystery at all,
and all might still be well. She secretly hoped this, although, in her
magnanimity, she considered it her duty to exonerate her lover from all
ties. But now the mystery was solved. It was no longer dark and
concealed, yielding a hope, however slight, that it might have existed
merely in her own imagination. It was no longer dark or mysterious. Her
father had robbed Mr. Morley (her lover's brother) of a considerable sum
of money, and had purloined his valuable papers, and had moreover gone
to a public ball at Penzance, dressed in Mr. Morley's clothes. There was
no getting over this;--there was no mystery here. All this could be
fully proved,--and he had gone off, no one knew where.
What was she to do? She was left without a friend and penniless. There
was the house, it was true; but she could not live there without a penny
to buy food.
Squire Pendray told the sad story when he returned home; and good Mrs.
Pendray went herself to Mr. Freeman's, and begged Alrina to go home with
her, and live with them as one of her daughters. This kind offer Alrina
respectfully declined. Mrs. Pendray then offered her a supply of money
to purchase necessaries until her father's return.
"My father will never return, madam," said she, with dignity; "he
cannot. And, although I thank you from my heart for your kindness, I
cannot accept charity,--no, madam, I must gain my own livelihood, as
many a poor girl has done before."
So the good lady, having failed of success in her good intentions, took
an affectionate leave of the noble girl, begging her to reconsider her
determination, and to come to her still if she altered her mind. "I
shall watch over you, my dear," said the good lady at parting, "and
shall get information brought me of your progress. Good bye! And may the
Almighty Giver of all good watch over and protect you."
This disinterested kindness was almost overpowering. It was as much as
Alrina could do to prevent herself from giving way to her feelings. She
had borne her lover's supposed desertion, and the discovery of her
father's disgrace without shedding a tear, or allowing anyone to
discover how much she was affected by them. Now she could bear up no
longer. Mrs. Pendray's kind offer of protection and charity made her
feel the full force of her situation, and she returned to her room, and,
throwing herself on her bed, wept bitter tears of distress, mingled with
feelings of anger and wounded pride. She had been deserted, disgraced,
and humiliated. Long did she remain in that state of desponding
wretchedness. It was not in her nature to give way to her feelings, and
weep for every trifling thing that went wrong; she had been brought up
in a sterner school. But when she did give way, hers was not an ordinary
fit of weeping and then over; no, when she wept, it was a terrible
outbreak of pent-up feelings, like a large reservoir of water bursting
its banks, and carrying all before it. Nothing could stop it, until it
had spent itself out. And so it was now with Alrina;--she tossed and
rolled on her bed in her agony of mind, and wept until she became
exhausted, and then fell into a sound sleep, from which she awoke after
some hours, refreshed and renovated both in mind and body. She bathed
her eyes and face in cold water, and rearranged her hair, and sat in her
chair by the side of the dressing-table, calm and dignified, and began
to think of what she should do for the future.
The past was gone for her. She must leave the house at once, and lock it
up, after allowing Mr. Morley to take what remained of his property.
She rang for Alice Ann, and told her her determination, and offered her
some money--all she had in the world--in payment of her wages for the
past few weeks. This the poor girl as indignantly but respectfully
refused, as Alrina herself had refused but a few hours before the
proposed kindness and protection of Mrs. Pendray.
"Why, she's maazed, I reckon," said Alice Ann, looking at her young
mistress as if she were some dangerous animal; "do 'ee knaw what you're
tellen' of, do 'ee?--_you_ go out for to get your livin'--no, no,--tarry
here, Miss Reeney, an' I'll tend 'ee the same as I do now, an' nevar
take a penny. An' as for meat,--'where there's a will there's a
way,'--we'll take in stitchen' an' sawen', I cud used to do plain work,
brave an' tidy; an' you cud do the fine work. We'll get along, nevar you
fear."
"It is very kind of you, Alice Ann, to offer to help me to live,"
replied Alrina; "but it cannot be,--I shall not remain in this house
another night after what has happened, if I can possibly help it. I
shall go out now for a short time, and when I return we will arrange for
the future." So saying, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and went down
the road, leaving Alice Ann at a loss to conjecture what she meant to
do, or where she could be going in such a hurry.
"She's gone to chat it over weth somebody, I s'pose," said the girl, as
she stood at the door and watched her young mistress walking quietly
down the road.
Alice Ann was right in a measure. Alrina was going to chat it over with
somebody, but not for the purpose of asking advice, nor by way of idle
gossip. She had fully determined in her own mind what she would do; and
when she had fully made up her mind to a thing it was not an easy matter
to turn her from her purpose.
Mrs. Trenow's house was generally her favourite resort when she wanted a
quiet chat; but, to Alice Ann's surprise, she passed that house now, and
went on into the heart of the village, and she soon lost sight of her,
and returned into the house to put things in order, and prepare the tea
against her young mistress returned.
Alrina stopped before the door of the "Commercial" Inn as if doubtful
what she should do. After a moment's hesitation, however, she walked
quietly in. Mrs. Brown had been working very briskly at her needle,
mending some old garment after a fashion; for she was no great hand at
that sort of work,--knitting she could get on with tolerably well,
because it required very little skill, and was therefore rather pleasant
work. She was now sitting looking at her work with an angry brow; for,
after all her trouble, she had put on the wrong piece. She had sat for
several hours, stitch, stitch, at that garment, patching it up, as she
thought, to look nearly as well as ever, and now all her labour was
lost, for the piece must come off again;--it would never do as it was.
"Drat the old gown!" said she; "here have I be'n worken' my fingers to
the bone, an' puzzlin' my brain till I'm all mizzy mazey, an' thinken' I
had done a bra' job,--an' there it is."
"Send for the tailor, Peggy! send for the tailor, to be sure," said Mr.
Brown from his place in the chimney-corner, from whence he seldom
stirred now; for he had become feeble in body as well as in mind, since
the shock he had experienced by the terrible death of his favourite
mare. Mrs. Brown was very kind to him and indulged him as far as she
could; but she could not help being irritated sometimes by his silly
remarks; for he prematurely declined into second childhood.
"Send for a fool! and that's you, John Brown," replied his wife,
testily, as she turned the garment in different directions to see if
she could make it do at all, without ripping out the piece again;--but
it was of no use, out it must come.
"If that lazy maid we've got here could stitch a bit tidy she wud be
some help," soliloquized the old lady; "but she's no good but to scrub
the floors, and tend the pigs,--she caen't draw a pint of beer fitty.
And there's Grace Bastian, the only decent maid we had in the parish for
to do a bit of sewing-work, she must prink herself off to Penzance too.
I don't knaw what's come to the maidens, not I. Miss Reeney! how are 'ee
my dear? Come in an' sit down;--why, you're quite a stranger," continued
the good landlady, as she rose to place a chair for her visitor.
"Yes, I've been very much occupied since our return," replied
Alrina;--"but what are you about, Mrs. Brown?--you seem to have mended
your dress with a piece of a different colour. Why, here's a piece that
would have matched it exactly, and, if stitched in neatly, no one would
find out that it had been mended."
"That's the very thing I'm thinken' about," said Mrs. Brown. "Here have
I be'n stitch, stitch, nearly all the day, putten' on that piece, an'
when I had finished it I found I had put on the wrong one; but I caen't
stitch any more to-day,--my head is bad already."
"Let me see," said Alrina, taking the dress, and matching the right
piece on it;--"there, Mrs. Brown, that would do nicely, would it not?"
"Yes, my dear; but the thing is to stitch it in."
"Lend me your scissors, and I will soon manage it," replied Alrina.
"There," continued she, as she ripped off the piece that it had taken
Mrs. Brown so long to put in; "that's soon done. Now, lend me your
needle and thimble,--I'll put in the piece, while we gossip a little of
the latest news imported. Your thimble is too large;--haven't you a
smaller one in the house?"
"I believe our maid Polly have got one somewhere," said Mrs. Brown;
"I'll sarch for it."
"Poll! Poll! Polly!" said Mr. Brown, catching at the familiar sound:
"come out in the stable, Polly,--the mare must want her gruel by this
time. Wo! ho! Jessie, my beauty--wo! ho! mare!"
"Will you be quiet, John Brown?" said his wife, as she came downstairs
with the thimble.
"Here, Miss Reeney, I s'pose this is too big for your little finger."
"Never mind, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina, who had by this time pinned on
the proper piece; "I'll make this do."
The work now went on briskly--Mrs. Brown knitting, and Alrina stitching
and gossipping between. While the work was going on, two miners came in,
and asked for a pint of beer.
"Let me draw it, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina, putting down her work--"it
will be a change of work too."
"Well, you shall if you are fancical," replied Mrs. Brown, smiling.
"Take the brown jug, my dear--that's a pint exactly--and draw it out of
the end cask. Blow off the froth and fill up again,--our customers don't
like the jug half full of froth, I can assure you."
So Alrina drew the beer, and received the money, as if she had been
accustomed to it all her life, very much to the astonishment of the two
men, who seemed puzzled at being tended by Miss Reeney;--but they liked
it very well, nevertheless, and ere long asked for another pint, for the
sake, no doubt, of receiving it from so fair a cup-bearer.
The two men were in a little room leading out of the kitchen, so that
neither party could hear distinctly the conversation of the others,--nor
was there much said by either party, indeed, worth the trouble of
listening to.
When the men were gone, Mrs. Brown said, "Why, I shud think you had been
used to the bar all your life, to see how handy you are; and you've
nearly finished the work that I wor all the day about. Your husband will
have a treasure, whoever he is."
"I shall never be married, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina, with a heavy sigh.
"Iss, Iss, you'll be married fast enough, and I think I can tell his
name, though I'm no conjuror, asking your pardon."
"I have not seen the man yet that I would marry," returned Alrina, with
an effort.
"Oh! fie!" said Mrs. Brown; "you mustn't say so to me; I wasn't born
yesterday, an' I can see a bra' way, though tes busy all, I'll allow."
"What I have told you is perfectly true," replied Alrina; "and so far
from thinking of marrying, I am going to try to get my own living,--will
you take me into your service?"
"My dear young lady," replied Mrs. Brown, taking off her spectacles, and
looking at Alrina steadily and seriously, "you mustn't make game of your
elders, nor look down with scorn upon those you may consider inferior in
station to yourself,--but that remains to be proved. Take her (a
boarding-school young lady) into my service! Did you hear that, John
Brown?"
John Brown didn't hear that, or if he did he didn't understand it, for
he made no reply.
"You seem as if you didn't understand me, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina.
"No, sure, I don't understand your meanin' at all," replied Mrs. Brown.
Alrina then related the circumstances of the morning to Mrs. Brown, whom
she knew she could trust, and whose advice she knew she could rely on,
for she was a shrewd intelligent woman. When she had finished her tale,
Mrs. Brown took her hand, and said, "You must forgive me for my hasty
speech just now. 'Tes an ugly business, but you shall never want a house
to shelter you, nor a bit of morsel to eat while I have got it for you."
"You don't understand me now," said Alrina; "I will never accept
charity, either in the shape of food, raiment, or shelter. What I ask
you to do is this,--to take me into your service, to help you, as I have
done this afternoon, for instance. I will take the burden of the house
off your shoulders, and do the sewing, and attend to the bar. Poor Mr.
Brown is not able to do anything now, and indeed requires more of your
attention than you have time to give him, and I cannot but remember that
it was in consequence of some advice given him by my father (for what
reason I know not), that Mr. Brown lost his mare, and became in
consequence almost imbecile; and it is my duty, if possible, to repair
the injury that has been done. I cannot return the mare, nor give Mr.
Brown renewed strength; but I can help you, and by that means you will
have more time to devote to his little comforts. I don't want money;--I
merely want a home with a respectable family, to whom I can render
services sufficient to remunerate them for their kindness, without
having the feeling that I am maintained merely out of charity. Now do
you understand what I mean?"
"I do," replied Mrs. Brown, "and it shall be as you wish, and I shall
always respect and honour you for the noble and independent way in which
you have acted."
This being settled, Alrina went back to her father's house, to inform
Alice Ann of what she had done; and, having arranged with Mrs. Brown
that Alice Ann should sleep at her house also for a night or two, she
locked up the house where so many evil deeds had been performed, and
took up her residence at the "Commercial" Inn, as barmaid and general
superintendent of the stitchery of the household.