The stranger, conceiving some hope of assistance from her extreme youth, and air of good humour, besought her interest with Mrs Maple for permission to remain in the house till the next day. Selina carried the request with alacrity, and, almost instantly returning, gave orders to the housekeeper to prepare a bed for her fellow-traveller, in the little room upon the stairs.
The gratitude excited by this support was so pleasant to the young patronness, that she accompanied her protégée to the destined little apartment, superintended all the regulations for her accommodation and refreshments, and took so warm a fancy to her, that she made her a visit every other half-hour in the course of the evening; during which she related, with earnest injunctions to secresy, all the little incidents of her little life, finishing her narration by intimating, in a rapturous whisper, that she should very soon have a house of her own, in which her aunt Maple would have no sort of authority. ‘And then,’ added she, nodding, ‘perhaps I may ask you to come and see me!’
No one else appeared; and the stranger might tranquilly have passed the night, but from internal disturbance how she should reach Brighthelmstone the following morning, without carriage, friends, money, or knowledge of the road thither.
Before the tardy light invited her to rise the next day, her new young friend came flying into the room. ‘I could not sleep,’ she cried, ‘all last night, for the thought of a play that I am to have a very pretty dress for; and that we have fixed upon acting amongst ourselves; and so I got up on purpose to tell you of it, for fear you should be gone.’
She then read through every word of her own part, without a syllable of any other.
They were both soon afterwards sent for into the parlour by Elinor, who was waiting breakfast for Mrs. Maple, with Harleigh and Ireton. ‘My dear demoiselle,’ she cried, ‘how fares it? We were all so engrossed last night, about a comedy that we have been settling to massacre, that I protest I quite forgot you.’
‘I ought only, Madam,’ answered the stranger, with a sigh, ‘to wonder, and to be grateful that you have ever thought of me.’
‘Why what’s the matter with you now? Why are you so solemn? Is your noble courage cast down? What are you projecting? What’s your plan?’
‘When I have been to Brighthelmstone, Madame, when I have seen who—or what may await me there—’
Mrs. Maple, now appearing, angrily demanded who had invited her into the parlour? telling her to repair to the kitchen, and make known what she wanted through some of the servants.
The blood mounted into the cheeks of the Incognita, but she answered only by a distant courtsie, and turning to Elinor and Selina, besought them to accept her acknowledgements for their goodness, and retired.
Selina and Elinor, following her into the ante-room, asked how she meant to travel?
She had one way only in her power; she must walk.
‘Walk?’ exclaimed Harleigh, joining them, ‘in such a season? And by such roads?’
‘Walk?’ cried Ireton, advancing also, ‘eight miles? In December?’
‘And why not, gentlemen?’ called out Mrs Maple, ‘How would you have such a body as that go, if she must not walk? What else has she got her feet for?’
‘Are you sure,’ said Ireton, ‘that you know the way?’
‘I was never in this part of the world till now.’
‘Ha! Ha! pleasant enough! And what are you to do about money? Did you ever find that purse of yours that you—lost, I think, at Dover?’
‘Never!’
‘Better and better!’ cried Ireton, laughing again, yet feeling for his own purse, and sauntering towards the hall.
Harleigh was already out of sight.
‘Pour soul!’ said Selina, ‘I am sure, for one, I’ll help her.’
‘Let us make a subscription,’ said Elinor, producing half a guinea, and looking round to Mrs Maple.
Selina joined the same sum, full of glee to give, for the first time, as much as her sister.
Mrs Maple clamorously ordered them to shut the parlour door.
With shame, yet joy, the stranger accepted the two half guineas, intimated her hopes that she should soon repay them, repeated her thanks, and took leave.
The sisters would still have detained her, but Mrs Maple peremptorily insisted upon breakfasting without further delay.
The Incognita was proceeding to the housekeeper’s room, for a packet of the gifts of Elinor, but she was stopt in the hall by Ireton, who was loitering about, playing with his purse, and jerking and catching it from hand to hand.
‘Here, my dear,’ he cried, ‘look at this, and take what you will from it.’
She coldly thanked him, and, saying that the young ladies had amply supplied her, would have moved on: but he prevented her, repeating his offer, and adding, while with uncontrolled freedom he stared at her, ‘How the deuce, with such a pretty face as that, could you ever think of making yourself look such a fright?’
She told him that she was in haste.
‘But what was the whim of it?’
She desired him to make way, every moment of day-light being precious to her.
‘Hang day-light!’ cried he, ‘I never liked it; and if you will but wait a few minutes—’
Selina, here, running to call him to breakfast, he finished in a whisper, ‘I’ll convey you in my own chaise wherever you like to go;’ and then, forced to put up his purse, he gallantly handed his fair bride-elect back to the parlour.
The stranger, entering the housekeeper’s room, met Harleigh, who seriously remonstrated against her walking project, offering his servant to procure her a post-chaise. The sigh of her negative expressed its melancholy economy, though she owned a wish that she could find some meaner vehicle that would be safe.
Harleigh then disappeared; but, a few minutes afterwards, when she was setting out from the garden-gate, she again met him, and he told her that he was going to order a parcel from a stationer’s at Brighthelmstone; and that a sort of chaise-cart, belonging to a farmer just by, would be sent for it, almost immediately. ‘I do not recommend,’ added he, smiling, ‘such a machine for its elegance; and, if you would permit me to offer you one more eligible—’
A grave motion of the head repressed him from finishing his phrase, and he acquainted her that he had just been to the farm, to bespeak a sober driver, with whom he had already settled for his morning’s work.
This implied assurance, that he had no plan of following the machine, induced her to agree to the proposition; and, when the little carriage was in sight, he expressed his good wishes that she might find the letter, or the friend, that she desired, and returned to the breakfast parlour.
The length of the way, joined to the dirt of the roads, made her truly sensible of his consideration, in affording her this safe conveyance.
When she arrived at the Post-office, the words, ‘Oh, you are come at last!’ struck her ear, from the street; but not conceiving herself to be addressed, they failed to catch her attention, till she saw, waiting to give her his hand, while exclaiming, ‘What the deuce can have made you so long in coming?’ young Ireton.
Far less pleased than surprised, she disengaged herself from him with quickness, and enquired for the post-master.
He was not within.
She was extremely disturbed, and at a loss where to wait, or what to do.
‘Why did not you stay for my chaise?’ said Ireton. ‘When I found that you were gone, I mounted my steed, and came over by a short cut, to see what was become of you; and here you have kept me cooling my heels all this devil of a time. That booby of a driver must have had a taste for being out-crawled by a snail.’
Without answering him, she asked whether there were any clerk at hand, to whom she could apply?
Oh, yes! and she was immediately shewn into an office, and followed, without any ceremony, by Ireton, though she replied not a word to any thing that he said.
A young man here received her, of whom, in a fearful voice, she demanded whether he had any letter directed for L.S., to be left till called for.
‘You must make her tell you her name, Sir!’ cried Ireton, with an air of importance. ‘I give you notice not to let her have her letter, without a receipt, signed by her own hand. She came over with Mrs Maple of Lewes, and a party of us, and won’t say who she is. ’T has a very ugly look, Sir!’
The eye of the stranger accused him, but vainly, of cruelty.
The clerk, who listened with great curiosity, soon produced a foreign letter, with the address demanded.
While eagerly advancing to receive it, she anxiously enquired, whether there were no inland letter with the same direction?
None, she was answered.
Ireton then, clapping his hand upon the shoulder of the clerk, positively declared, that he would lodge an information against him, if he delivered any letter, under such circumstances, without a signed receipt.
An almost fainting distress was now visible in the face of the Incognita, as the clerk, surprised and perplexed, said, ‘Have you any objection, Ma’am, to giving me your name?’
She stammered, hesitated, and grew paler, while Ireton smiled triumphantly, when the party was suddenly joined by Harleigh.
Ireton ceased his clamour, and hung back, ashamed.
Harleigh, approaching the stranger, with an apology for his intrusion, was struck with her disordered look, and enquired whether she were ill?
‘Ah, Sir!’ she cried, reviving with hope at his sight, and walking towards the window, whither, wondering, he followed, ‘assist me in mercy!—you know, already, that some powerful motive deters me from naming myself—’
‘Have I been making any indiscreet enquiry?’ cried he, gently, yet in a tone of surprise.
‘You? O no! You have been all generosity and consideration!’
Harleigh, much gratified, besought her to explain herself with openness.
‘They insist upon my telling my name—or they detain my letter!’
‘Is that all?’ said he, and, going to the clerk, he demanded the letter, for which he gave his own address and receipt, with his word of honour that he was authorised to require it by the person to whom it was written.
He then delivered it into her hand.
The joy of its possession, joined to the relief from such persecution, filled her with a delight which, though beaming from all her features, she had not yet found words to express, when Ireton, whom Harleigh had not remarked, burst into a significant, though affected laugh.
‘Why, Harleigh! why, what the deuce can have brought you hither?’ cried he. Harleigh wished to retort the question; but would not hazard a raillery that might embarrass the stranger, who now, with modest grace, courtsied to him; while she passed Ireton without notice, and left the room.
Each wished to follow her, but each was restrained by the other. Ireton, who continued laughing maliciously, owned that his journey to Brighthelmstone had been solely to prevail with the clerk to demand the name of the stranger, before he gave up the letter; but Harleigh protested that he had merely ridden over to offer his mediation for her return to Lewes, if she should miss the friend, or letter, of which she came in search.
Ireton laughed still more; and hoped that, from such abundant charity, he would attribute his own ride, also, to motives of as pure benevolence. He then begged he might not interfere with the following up of so charitable a purpose: but Harleigh assured him that he had neither right, pretension, nor design to proceed any farther.
‘If that’s the case,’ cried Ireton, ‘since charity is the order of the day, I’ll see what is become of her myself.’
He ran out of the room.
Harleigh, following, soon joined him, and they saw the Incognita enter a milliner’s shop. They then separated; Harleigh pleading business for not returning immediately to Lewes; while Ireton, mounting his horse, with an accusing shake of the head, rode off.
Harleigh strolled to the milliner’s, and, enquiring for some gloves, perceived, through the glass-door of a small parlour, the stranger reading her letter.
He begged that the milliner would be so good as to tell the lady in the inner room, that Mr Harleigh requested to speak to her.
A message thus open could neither startle nor embarrass her, and he was instantly admitted.
He found her pale and agitated. Her letter, which was in her hand, she hastily folded, but looked at nothing else, while she waited an explanation of his visit.
‘I could not,’ he said, ‘go back to Lewes without knowing whether your expectations are answered in coming hither; or whether you will permit me to tell the Miss Joddrels that they may still have the pleasure to be of some use to you.’
She appeared to be unable to speak.
‘I fear to seem importunate,’ he continued, ‘yet I have no intention, believe me, to ask any officious questions. I respect what you have said of the nature of your situation, too much to desire any information beyond what may tend to alleviate its uneasiness.’
She held her hands before her eyes, to hide her fresh gushing tears, but they trickled fast through her fingers, as she answered, ‘My situation is now deplorable indeed!—I have no letter, no direction from the person whom I had hoped to meet; and whose abode, whose address, I know not how to discover! I must not apply to any of my original friends: unknown, and in circumstances the most strange, if not suspicious, can I hope to make myself any new ones?—Can I even subsist, when, though thus involved in mystery, I am as indigent as I am friendless, yet dare not say who, nor what I am,—and hardly even know it myself!’
Touched with compassion, he drew nearer to her, meaning, from an almost unconscious impulse of kindness, to take her hand; but feeling, with equal quickness, the impropriety of allowing his pity such a manifestation, he retreated to his first place, and, in accents of gentle, but respectful commiseration, expressed his concern for her distress.
Somewhat soothed, yet heavily sighing, ‘To fail finding,’ she said, ‘either the friend, or her direction, that I expected, overwhelms me with difficulty and perplexity. And even this letter from abroad, though most welcome, has grievously disappointed me! I am promised, however, another, which may bring me, perhaps, happier tidings. I must wait for it patiently; but the person from whom it comes little imagines my destitute state! The unfortunate loss of my purse makes it, by this delay of all succour, almost desperate!’
The hand of Harleigh was involuntarily in his pocket, but before he could either draw out his purse, or speak, she tremulously added, colouring, and holding back, ‘I am ashamed to have mentioned a circumstance, which seems to call for a species of assistance, that it is impossible I should accept.’
Harleigh bowed, acquiescent.
Her eyes thanked him for sparing her any contest, and she then gratefully acceded to his proposal, of soliciting for her the renewed aid and countenance of the Miss Joddrels, from whom some little notice might be highly advantageous, in securing her decent treatment, during the few days,—perhaps more,—that she might be kept waiting at Brighthelmstone for another letter.
He gently exhorted her to re-animate her courage, and hoped to convince her, by the next morning, that he had not intruded upon her retirement from motives of idle and useless curiosity.
As soon as he was gone, she treated with Miss Matson, the milliner, to whom Harleigh had considerately named her as a young person known to Mrs Maple, for a small room in her house during a few days; and then, somewhat revived, she endeavoured, by recollecting the evils which she had escaped, to look forward, with better hopes of alleviation, to those which might yet remain to be encountered.
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