When a lady finds herself a second time alone with a gentleman who has
once addressed her on an interesting topic, but whose address has not
been altogether pleasant and agreeable, the lady's situation is by no
means enviable. It is more distressing still when, in the recollection
of the young lady, there are yet lingering the faint relics of brighter
and better hopes.
This was the situation of Penelope when Lord Spoonbill called upon
her. Mr Primrose was not within: business demanded his attention in
the City, and there he was likely to be detained some hours. The
young lord, with well feigned seriousness, expressed his regret that
he should be so unfortunate as not to meet with Mr Primrose, and
he added that he would call again if Mr Primrose was likely soon to
return. When however he heard that Penelope did not expect her father
till dinner-time, he was more pleased with the information than he
professed to be. Miss Primrose very respectfully enquired after the
Earl and Countess of Smatterton; and, in replying to those enquiries,
Lord Spoonbill took the opportunity of hinting that her ladyship felt
somewhat anxious to know whether the return of Mr Primrose to England
had induced Penelope to relinquish the thought of that profession which
she had recently contemplated, and for which immediate preparation
became otherwise necessary and important.
In reply to this enquiry, Penelope informed his lordship that her
father had expressed himself decidedly of opinion that such pursuit
would not be agreeable to himself or necessary for his daughter. Lord
Spoonbill cared little for the disappointment, except that it would
be in the way of his schemes, and render the arrangement which he
meditated rather more difficult of execution. So far as expectation was
concerned, he was prepared for this event; but he was not prepared with
any plan that he might immediately pursue.
After the common-place talk was finished, his lordship thought that he
ought to take his leave; but he was reluctant to go, and he did not
know how to stay. Penelope also wished him gone, for she was afraid
of a renewal of an unpleasant topic. The young lady also took no
particular pains to conceal that wish, and his lordship was not quite
so flat as not to discern that his presence was not very acceptable.
In truth, his situation was grievously perplexing, and a wiser man
than he would have been at a loss in such circumstances how to act. It
was clear to him that Penelope had not quite forgotten Robert Darnley;
it was also obvious that Lord Spoonbill was not yet essential to the
happiness of Miss Primrose; he most earnestly desired to render
himself agreeable to Miss Primrose, and he very well knew that nothing
could be more agreeable than that he should take his leave; but that
would not have been agreeable to himself; and greatly as he desired
to do anything that might recommend him to the approbation of Miss
Primrose, he was equally desirous of avoiding anything that might be
disagreeable or unpleasant to himself.
Lord Spoonbill is not to be regarded in this instance as differing so
very widely from the rest of the world. Other lovers frequently have
the same ideas on the subject of the mutual accommodation of themselves
and their adored ones. And if, after this observation, any individual
of the gentler sex should be deceived by professions and protestations
of disinterestedness, the fault will be hers and not ours.
In this embarrassing situation in which Lord Spoonbill was placed,
it occurred to his most fertile imagination that it might greatly
forward his designs upon Penelope, if, by any means, he could contrive
to bring the young lady to think unhandsomely of Robert Darnley. It
certainly would not do for his lordship to make any direct allusion
to this young gentleman; for it was hardly supposed by Miss Primrose
that there existed in the mind of his lordship any knowledge of the
acquaintance between her and the son of the rector of Neverden;
and such was his lordship's clumsiness in the management of his
irregularities, that he was even fearful of the most indirect allusion
to Robert Darnley, lest, in making that allusion, he might betray
himself.
At length it came into his lordship's most sagacious head that,
although it might be hazardous to make any allusion to Neverden, there
could not be much risk incurred by enquiring after Mrs Greendale,
therefore he ventured to ask, as if for want of something else to say,
if Miss Primrose had lately heard from Smatterton, and in making this
enquiry he endeavoured to watch the countenance of the young lady
most narrowly, in order to observe whether the mention of Smatterton
produced any deep emotion as connected with Neverden. Penelope answered
with perfect composure, and informed the hereditary legislator that Mrs
Greendale had not written to her since her departure from Smatterton.
After mentioning Mrs Greendale, his lordship proceeded to some more
common talk, merely and obviously to delay his departure; and he
manifested in this kind of talk that he had a great wish to recur to
that topic which he had introduced on the morning of Mr Primrose's
meeting with his daughter. But if it was evident to Penelope that such
was his lordship's wish, it was quite as evident to his lordship that
the young lady was equally uneasy under the apprehension, and dreaded
the repetition of a discussion which at its first introduction had so
distressed her thoughts.
And now it would have been absolutely and uncontrollably necessary for
Lord Spoonbill to take his leave, and he must have taken his leave,
not knowing when or how he might find Penelope again, had it not been
for one of those unexpected and extraordinary accidents which often
change the aspect of a whole life. This accident was neither more nor
less than the sudden return of Mr Primrose to his hotel.
By the expression of Mr Primrose's countenance, which seldom indeed
concealed or belied the emotions of his mind, it was visible that some
calamity had befallen him, or at least that something had occurred to
discompose him. It might not be anything very serious; Penelope hoped
it was not; for, during the short time that she had been with her
father she had had abundant occasion of observing that such was the
susceptibility of his feelings, that the expressions of joy and sorrow
were soon excited, and that by a very slight and trifling occurrence.
But it was soon manifest that it was no trivial circumstance that
oppressed the spirits of her father in the present instance. When
he entered the apartment he scarcely noticed his daughter or Lord
Spoonbill. He took the former by the hand, and to the latter he
slightly bowed; and this was his only recognition of them, for he did
not open his lips, and he scarcely directed his looks towards them. His
lips were closely compressed, as if he feared that by opening them he
should betray or give way to stronger expressions of grief than might
well become him. He sat himself down upon a chair and looked listlessly
out into the street, moving neither feature nor muscle, except that the
vibration of his eyelids was more rapid than usual.
Lord Spoonbill was now at a loss whether to offer his sympathy or to
take his departure. He could not, with any great propriety, leave
the room without taking some notice of Mr Primrose; but such was the
expression of the poor man's countenance, that it seemed that merely
to speak to him in the most common-place manner imaginable would be
to distress his feelings, and to burst open that flood of grief which
he seemed to endeavour to restrain. Directing therefore an enquiring
look to Penelope, and again turning towards Mr Primrose, his lordship,
by these looks and the movements which accompanied them, intimated
an intention of departing, if his presence were a restraint. Seeing
that Mr Primrose kept his position, and that no change was made in his
features, his lordship was just whispering to Penelope that he was
sorry to see her father under such depression, and that it might be
agreeable that he should leave them, Mr Primrose hastily started up and
said;
"I beg your pardon, Lord Spoonbill, for my rudeness, but I have met
with a shock this morning that has completely subdued me."
At this speech, Penelope caught her father's hand with tender
eagerness, and asked, as well as her feelings would allow, what was the
nature of the misfortune that he had met with. Most tenderly, and with
a tone which reached even the heart of Lord Spoonbill, Mr Primrose said;
"My dear, dear child, you are a dependent again, and God knows how soon
you may be an orphan indeed."
Before Penelope could speak, and indeed before she well comprehended
her father's meaning, the distressed man directed his speech to Lord
Spoonbill, saying;
"Could you believe it possible, my lord, that such deliberate villains
should exist in a Christian country, as to take from a man the little
property which he had been toiling for years to accumulate, to take
what they knew they never could restore. Those villains suffered me,
but ten days ago, to deposit my all in their hands, and now they have
stopped payment; and from all that I can hear in the City, I am not
likely to receive above one shilling in the pound, and I may wait
months, or perhaps years, for that."
It may be in the recollection of the reader, that Lord Spoonbill was
described in an early part of this narrative as being unduly and
indecently pleased to hear of the illness of Dr Greendale, as exulting
in the thought that the decease of that worthy, kind-hearted man would
afford his lordship a more convenient opportunity of pursuing his
schemes against the peace and innocence of Penelope Primrose. It will
not therefore appear very surprizing if that same hereditary legislator
should regard the present calamity of Mr Primrose as an agreeable
circumstance to himself, and as greatly favouring his designs. There
was however, in the contemplation of this misfortune of the father
of Penelope, a desire also on the part of his lordship to contribute
towards its alleviation. Lord Spoonbill was a profligate, and he was a
mean, contemptible fellow; but he was not a devil incarnate, delighting
in mischief or wickedness purely for its own sake. He wished Mr
Primrose no ill, he had no desire to inflict any injuries or to give
pain to any one, but he loved himself, and he pursued his own plans for
his own pleasure, and he was pleased with whatever gave him promise or
hope of success, even though that very circumstance should be the death
or injury of another.
Seeing, therefore, that in the present circumstances there was
something which afforded him promise, he was pleased, and being pleased
he very kindly sympathised with Mr Primrose, and expressed a wish that
matters might not be quite so bad as was expected.
Mr Primrose took his lordship's sympathy very kindly, and his mind was
soothed by it; and with rather more self-possession than might have
been expected, he replied; "For myself, I care but little; but it is
mortifying, after so long an absence from my native land, and after so
much toil and perseverance for the sake of my own and only child, to
find that all the fruit of that toil is swept away at once."
Penelope, who had been overwhelmed by the suddenness of the
intelligence, had scarcely spoken; but now assuming with great success
a calmness and resolvedness of manner, said to her father:
"If that be all the calamity, my dear father, it is easily remedied.
The Countess of Smatterton has been kind enough to promise me her
high patronage, and to facilitate my efforts towards providing an
independency, and Lord Spoonbill has but this moment, just before
you returned, been enquiring whether or not I design to continue my
preparation for that pursuit."
"No, no, my Penelope, that is an occupation which I am sure can never
suit your taste. I will not on any account consent to that. How can
I bear to think of my own child exerting and wasting her strength to
amuse the public, and to see her standing before a promiscuous and
unfeeling multitude, exposed to the rudeness and insolence of loudly
expressed disapprobation and extempore criticism?"
"Nay, my good sir," said Lord Spoonbill in his pleasantest manner;
"there is no danger, and there need be no fear, that Miss Primrose will
ever incur disapprobation; whatever loud expressions there may be, will
be expressions of applause and delight."
"And that," rejoined Mr Primrose, "is almost as bad. To stand up
before a multitude and beg for their applause, even if the applause be
gained, is to my feelings humiliating. To a female it is more painful
still. I cannot brook the idea of being dependent on a multitude, a
capricious mass of, perhaps, gross and indiscriminating individuals."
Lord Spoonbill was so much delighted with the probability of Miss
Primrose's return to the condescending and discriminating patronage
of the Countess of Smatterton, that the anticipation made him more
than usually eloquent and logical; and there was something also in the
manner of Mr Primrose that excited the hereditary legislator to use his
utmost powers of persuasion. He therefore thus pursued the subject:
"But, sir, it is not merely in that profession which Miss Primrose
contemplates, that the public takes the liberty of expressing its
opinion. The highest personage in the kingdom is not exempt from
expressions of public censure or public applause; and when a nobleman
in the House of Peers, or a gentleman in the House of Commons, rises
and expresses his sentiments on any question of policy, the public
takes the liberty to express, and sometimes very loudly and rudely, an
opinion of the merits or demerits of such speech."
"Yes, my lord, you are talking very plausibly; but you must feel that
there is a wide difference between the two cases. You cannot by such
arguments cheat me out of my feelings. I thought it a calamity when I
heard that my child meditated that profession, and I was delighted that
it was in my power to save her from such a painful publicity."
It was not perhaps quite consistent with the strictest veracity when
Penelope, interrupting her father, said: "Indeed, my dear father, you
quite misunderstand me, if you think that I should feel any unpleasant
sensations in that publicity."
Mr Primrose saw clearly enough the motive of that speech; and he began
to wish that this discussion had not taken place in the presence of a
third person; and Lord Spoonbill saw that this feeling oppressed the
poor man. With a degree of propriety and delicacy therefore, which he
could readily assume when it suited his purpose, he concluded his visit
by saying:
"Well, Mr Primrose, I will not intrude upon you any longer for the
present; and I can only say, that I hope you will not find the affairs
of your banker quite so bad as you expect; but if you should, then I
will venture to say that the Earl of Smatterton will not forget a near
relative of the late respected Dr Greendale. Our family will be in
town in a few days, and I shall be most happy then to repeat my call.
And should Miss Primrose still persist in wishing to adopt the musical
profession, a patroness and every possible assistance will not be
wanting."
In this there was much kindness, and Mr Primrose was accordingly
pleased with the young lord, and forgot for a moment that he had ever
heard any stories to his discredit. And, when the father and daughter
were left alone, they entered into long and serious talk concerning
their respective prospects.
Mr Primrose was not left absolutely pennyless by the stopping of his
banker; but the greater part of his property was gone if, as report
stated, the house should be only able to pay one shilling in the pound.
Indeed, upon the supposition of a much larger dividend, the property,
which would then remain to Mr Primrose, would be but a very narrow
and scanty independence. He had not made so very large a fortune in
India as some persons are said to have accumulated; but, as soon as he
had acquired what he thought a respectable competence, he returned to
England to have as much as possible the enjoyment of his daughter's
company, and those pleasures which none but a native land is capable of
affording.
When he had stated to Penelope as accurately and fully as possible the
various particulars relative to his property, and mentioned the sources
from whence the rumours came concerning the incompetency of his banker,
the young lady very composedly expressed her readiness to avail
herself of the proffered patronage of the Countess of Smatterton.
There appeared so much sincerity and cheerfulness in the proposal,
that Mr Primrose felt himself considerably relieved: and not only did
there appear sincerity in the language used by Penelope, but there
really was what there appeared to be. For reluctant as she might have
been to engage in such a profession merely for the gratification of a
patroness, she felt very differently when she thought that she might
thereby be an assistance to her father.
Hurt as Mr Primrose's feelings, or pride, might have been at the
thought of receiving assistance from his own daughter, whom he had
hoped to place in a state of independence, and mortified as he might be
at the prospect of the young lady making a public appearance, yet he
had but little to say to the repeated enquiry which Penelope made in
answer to all his objections; for invariably his remarks were followed
by the question--"What else can be done?"
It was too late for Mr Primrose to return to India; and the patronage
or interest which once had favoured him now existed for him no longer.
He had not been brought up to any profession whereby he might gain a
livelihood in England, and he had been accustomed to a style of living
which rendered daily bread a more expensive article to him than to
those of humbler prospects.
A very distressing and heart-rending scene may be drawn of human
suffering from the lowest and most abject of the children of penury and
destitution. But we have our doubts whether the bitterest and keenest
sense of suffering is really in that class. The poor gentleman suffers
mentally, and while the beggar who lives on casual charity has an
occasional luxury in a full meal, he, whose poverty must be hidden but
cannot be unknown, is labouring under an unremitting and incessant
pressure; and it is this that wastes away the body to a mere shadow and
bows down the spirit to the earth. They are cruel and unfeeling indeed,
who mock such misery as this. We envy not the talent which can draw
mirth from a source so painful.