‘And Miss Bydel,’ continued Miss Arbe, ‘like all other old maids, is so precise about those sort of particulars, that, though she has not the smallest influence with any body of any consequence, as to any thing else, she is always depended upon for that sort of thing. We must not, therefore, shew her that we despise her, for she may be useful enough; especially in letting you have the harp, you know, that we may still enjoy a little music together. For I can make her do whatever I please for the sake of my company.’
Ellis had long known that the civilities which she owed to Miss Arbe, had their sole motive in selfishness; but the total carelessness of giving them any other colour, became, now, so glaring, that she could with difficulty conceal the decrease either of her respect or of her gratitude.
Miss Arbe, however, was but little troubled with that species of delicacy which is solicitous to watch, that it may spare the feelings of others. She continued, therefore, what she had to offer, hurrying to come to a conclusion, as she had not, she declared, three minutes to stay.
If Lady Kendover, she said, could be brought over, every body would follow; not excepting Lady Arramede, who was obliged to be so great a niggard, in the midst of her splendid expences, that she would be quite enchanted to renew her daughter’s lessons, with so economical a mistress, if once she could be satisfied that she would be sustained by other persons of fashion. But Lady Kendover, who did not wait to be led, protested that she could by no means place her niece again under the tuition of Miss Ellis, till the concert-scene should be explained.
Miss Arbe then asked whether Ellis would give it any explanation.
Ellis dejectedly answered, that she could offer no other, than that necessity had forced her to disguise herself, that she might make her escape.
‘Well but, then, people say,’ cried Miss Arbe, ‘now that your escape is made, why don’t you speak out? That’s the cry every where.’
Ellis looked down, distressed, ashamed; and Miss Arbe declared that she had not another moment at present, for discussion, but would call again, to settle what should be done on Monday. Meantime, she had brought some new music with her, which she wished to try; for the time was so unaccountable, that she could not make out a bar of it.
Ellis heartily felicitated herself upon every occasion, by which she could lessen obligations of which she now felt the full weight, and, with the utmost alacrity, took her harp.
Miss Arbe here had so much to study, so many passages to pick out, and such an eagerness to practise till she could conquer their difficulties, that she soon forgot that she had not a moment to spare; and two hours already had been consecrated to her improvement, when intelligence was brought that Mr Tedman’s carriage was come for Miss Ellis.
‘You must not accept it for the world!’ cried Miss Arbe. ‘If, at the moment people of distinction are shy of you, you are known to cultivate amongst mechanics, and people of that sort, it’s all over with you. Persons of fashion can’t possibly notice you again.’
She then added, that, after the scene of the preceding day, Miss Ellis must make it a point to let the first house that she entered be that of somebody of condition. She might go amongst trades-people as much as she pleased, when once she was established amongst persons of rank; for trades-people were so much the best paymasters, that nobody could be angry if artists were partial to them; but they must by no means take the lead; nor suppose that they were to have any hours but those that would not suit other people. As she could not, therefore, re-commence her career at Lady Kendover’s, or at Lady Arramede’s, she must try to get received at Miss Sycamore’s;—or, if that should be too difficult, at the Miss Crawleys, who would object to nothing, as they cared for nobody’s opinion, and made it a rule to follow nobody’s advice. And this they took so little pains to hide from the world, that their countenance would not be of the least service, but for their living with Sir Marmaduke, who was scrupulosity itself. This being the case, joined to their extreme youth, they had not yet been set down, as they must necessarily be, in a few years, for persons of no weight, and rather detrimental than advantageous to people of no consequence. At present, therefore, Ellis might safely make her court to them, as she could always drop them when they became dangerous, or of no use. And just now she must snap at whoever and whatever could help to bring her again into credit. And the Miss Crawleys, though each of them was as wilful as a spoiled child, as full of tricks as a schoolboy, and of as boisterous mirth as a dairy-maid, were yet sisters of a baronet, and born of a very good family; and therefore they would be more serviceable to her than that vulgar Miss Tedman, even though she were an angel.
Ellis listened in silent, and scarcely concealed disdain, to these worldly precepts; yet Miss Tedman was so utterly disagreeable, and the sneers of Sir Lyell Sycamore had added such repugnance to her distaste of the civilities of Mr Tedman, that she did not attempt opposing the dictatorial proceedings of Miss Arbe; who gave orders, that the coachman should be told that Miss Ellis was indisposed, and sent her compliments, but could not wait upon Miss Tedman till the next week.
She then again went on with her unacknowledged, but not less, to her tutress, laborious lesson, till she was obliged to hasten to her toilette, for her dinner-engagement; leaving Ellis in the utmost alarm for her whole scheme; and tormented with a thousand fears, because unable to fix upon any standard for the regulation of her conduct.
The next day was Sunday. Ellis had constantly on that day attended divine worship, during the month which she had spent at Brighthelmstone; and now, to a call stronger than usual for the consolation which it might afford her, she joined an opinion, that to stay away, in her present circumstances, might have an air of absconding, or of culpability.
She was placed, as usual, in a pew, with some other decent strangers, by a fee to the pew-opener; but she had the mortification to find, when the service was over, that the dry clear frost, of the latter end of March, which had enabled her to walk to the church, was broken up by a heavy shower of rain. She had been amongst the first to hurry away, in the hope of escaping unnoticed, by hastening down the hill, on which the church is built, before the higher ranks of the congregation left their pews; but, arrived at the porch, she was compelled to stop: she was unprovided with an umbrella, and the rain was so violent that, without one, she must have been wet through in a minute.
She would have made way back to the pew which she had quitted, to wait for more moderate weather; but the whole congregation was coming forth, and there was no re-passing.
She was the more sensibly vexed at being thus impeded, from finding herself, almost immediately, joined by Sir Lyell Sycamore; whose eagerness to speak to her by no means concealed his embarrassment in what manner to address, or to think of her. He was making, various offers of service; to find the pew-opener; to give her a seat to herself; to fetch her a chaise from the nearest inn; or an umbrella from his own carriage; when Mrs and Miss Brinville, who hurried from their pew, the instant that they saw the Baronet depart, cast upon them looks of such suspicious disdain, that he deemed it necessary, though he smiled and appeared gratified by their undisguised pique, to walk on with them to their carriage; whispering, however, to Ellis that he should return to take her under his care.
Ellis, extremely shocked, could not endure to remain on the same spot, as if awaiting his services; she glided, therefore, into a corner, close to the door; hoping that the crowd, which incommoded, would at least protect her from being seen: but she had not been stationed there a moment, before she had the unwelcome surprise of hearing the words, ‘Why, Mr Stubbs, if here is not Miss Ellis!’ and finding that she had placed herself between young Gooch, the farmer’s son, and Mr Stubbs, the old steward.
‘Good now, Ma’am,’ the young man cried, ‘why I have never seen you since that night of our all acting together in that play, when you out-topped us all so to nothing! I never saw the like, not even at the real play. And some of the judges said, you were not much short of what they be at the grand London theatre itself. I suppose, Ma’am, you were pretty well used to acting in France? for they say all the French are actors or dancers, except just them that go to the wars. I should like to know, Ma’am, whether they pop off them players and fidlers at the same rate they do the rest? for, if they do, it’s a wonder how they can get ’em to go on acting and piping, and jiggetting about, and such like, if they know they are so soon to have their heads off, all the same. You could not get we English now to do so, just before being hanged, or shot. But the French a’n’t very thoughtful. They’re always ready for a jig.’
‘I am sorry I had no notice of seeing you here to day, Ma’am,’ said Mr Stubbs, ‘for if I had, I would have brought my bit of paper with me, that I’ve writ down my queries upon, about raising the rents in those parts, and the price that land holds in general; and about a purchase that I am advised to make.—’
‘But I should like much to know, Ma’am,’ resumed Gooch, ‘whether it’s a truth, what I’ve been told at our club, that your commonest soldier in France, when once he can bring proof he has killed you his dozen or so, with his own hand, is made a general upon the spot? If that’s the case, to be sure it’s no great wonder there’s so much blood shed; for such encouragement as that’s enough to make soldiers of the very women and children.’
‘Why, I am told, the French have no great head,’ said Mr Stubbs, ‘except for the wars; and that’s what makes the land so cheap; for, I am told, you may buy an estate, of a thousand or two acres, for an old song. And that’s the reason I am thinking of making a purchase. The only point is, how to see the premises without the danger of crossing the seas; and how to strike the bargain.’
Ellis, thus beset, was not sorry to be joined by Mr Scope, who, though more formal and tedious than either of the others, was a gentleman, spoke in a lower tone of voice, and attracted less attention.
‘I am happy, Ma’am,’ he said, ‘to have met with you again; for I have wished for some time to hold a little discourse with you, relative to the rites practised abroad, as to that Goddess of Reason, that, as I am credibly informed, has been set up by Mr Robert-Spierre. Now I should wish to enquire, what good they expect to accrue by proclaiming, one day, that there is no religion, and then, the next day, making a new one by the figure of a woman. It is hardly to be supposed that such sort of fickleness can serve to make a government respectable. And as to so many females being called Goddesses of Reason,—for I am assured there are some score of them,—one don’t very well see what that means; the ladies in general,—I speak without offence, as it’s out of their line,—not being particularly famous for their reason; at least not here; and I should suppose they can hardly be much more so in that light nation. The Pagans, it is true, though from what mode of thinking we are now at a loss to discover, thought proper to have Reason represented by a female; and that, perhaps, may be the cause of the French adopting the same notion, on account of their ancient character for politeness; though I cannot much commend their sagacity, taken in a political point of view, in putting the female head, which is very well in its proper sphere, upon coping, if I may use such an expression, with the male.’
This harangue, which Mr Stubbs and young Gooch, though too respectful to interrupt, waited, impatiently, to hear finished, might have lasted unbroken for half an hour, if Miss Bydel, in passing by with her brother, to get to her carriage, had not called out, ‘Bless me, Mr Scope, what are you talking of there, with that young person? Have you been asking her about that business at the blind harper’s concert? I should be glad to know, myself, Miss Ellis, as I call you, what you intend to do next? Have any of your scholars let you go to them again? And what says Miss Arbe to all this? Does she think you’ll ever get the better of it?’
Mr Bydel, here, begged his sister to invite Mr Scope to take a place in the carriage.
Young Gooch, then, would have renewed his questions relative to the generals, but that, upon pronouncing again her name, Mr Tedman, who, with his daughter, was passing near the porch, to examine whether they could arrive safely at their carriage, called out, ‘Well, if you are not here, too, my dear! Why how will you do to get home? You’ll be draggled up to your chin, if you walk; put in case you haven’t got your umbrella, and your pattens. But I suppose some of your quality friends will give you a lift; for I see one of ’em just coming. It’s Miss Ellis, the music-maker, Ma’am,’ added he, to Lady Arramede, who just then came out with Miss Arramede; ‘the young girl as teaches our darters the musics; and she’ll spoil all her things, poor thing, if somebody don’t give her a lift home.’
Lady Arramede, without moving a muscle of her face, or deigning to turn towards either the object or the agent of this implied request, walked on in silent contempt.
Mr Tedman, extremely offended, said, ‘The quality always think they may behave any how! and Lady Arrymud is not a bit to choose, from the worst among them. And even my own darter,’ he whispered, ‘is just as bad as the best; for she’d pout at me for a month to come, put in case I was to ride you home in our coach, now that the quality’s taken miff at you.’
During this whisper, which Ellis strove vainly to avoid hearing, and which the familiar junction of young Gooch, who was related to Mr Tedman, rendered more observable, she had the mortification of being evidently seen, though no longer, as heretofore, courteously acknowledged, by all her scholars and acquaintances. Miss Sycamore, the hardiest, passed, staring disdainfully in her face; Mrs Maple, the most cowardly, and who was accidentally at Brighthelmstone, pretended to have hurt her foot, that she might look down: the Miss Crawleys screamed out, ‘The Ellis! The Ellis! look, The Marmaduke, ’tis The Ellis!’ Sir Marmaduke, turning back to address Miss Arbe, said, with concern, ‘Is it possible, Madam, ’tis The Ellis, the elegant Ellis, that can join such low company?’ Miss Arbe shrugged her shoulders, crying, ‘What can one do with such people?’ Lady Kendover’s eyes kept carefully a straight-forward direction; while Lady Barbara, whom she held by one hand, incessantly kissed the other at Ellis, with ingenuous and undisguised warmth of kindness; an action which was eagerly repeated by Selina, who closely followed her ladyship.
Ireton, who brought up the rear, quitted the group, to approach Ellis, and say, ‘I am, positively, quite confounded, my dear Miss Ellis, at the mischief my confounded giddiness has brought about. I had not an idea of it, I assure you. I merely meant to play upon that confounded queer fellow, Riley. He’s so cursed troublesome, and so confounded free, that I hate him horribly. That’s all, I assure you.’
Ellis would make no answer, and he was forced to run after Selina.
The rain being, now, much abated, the congregation began to disperse, and Mr Tedman was compelled to attend his daughter; but he recommended the young music-maker to the care of his cousin Gooch; whose assistance she was declining, when she was again joined by Sir Lyell Sycamore, with a capacious umbrella, under which he begged to be her escort.
She decidedly refused his services; but he protested that, if she would not let him walk by her side, he would follow her, like an Indian slave, holding the umbrella over her head, as if she were an Indian queen.
Vexed and displeased, and preferring any other protection, she addressed herself to old Mr Stubbs, who still stood under the porch, and begged him to have the kindness to see her home.
Mr Stubbs, extremely flattered, complied. The other candidates vainly opposed the decision: they found that her decree was irrevocable, and that, when once it was pronounced, her silence was resolute. Mr Stubbs, nevertheless, had by no means the enjoyment that he expected from this distinction; for Ellis had as little inclination as she had spirit, to exert herself for answering the numerous enquiries, relative to lands and rents, which he poured into her ears.
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