The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 2 of 5) by Fanny Burney

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  Harassed and comfortless, Ellis passed the remainder of the day inpainful recollections and apprehensive forebodings; though utterlyunable, either by retrospection to avoid, or by anticipation to preparefor the evils that she might have to encounter.

  The next morning, Miss Arbe came to her usual appointment. Though glad,in a situation so embarrassed, to see the only person whom she couldlook upon as a guide, her opinion of Miss Arbe, already lowered duringthat lady's last visit, had been so completely sunk, from her joining inthe cry raised at the church, that she received her with undisguisedcoldness; and an open remonstrance against the cruel injustice ofascribing to choice, circumstances the most accidental, and a positionas unavoidable, as it had been irksome and improper.

  Miss Arbe, who came into the room with a gravely authoritative air,denoting that she expected not simply a welcome, but the humblestgratitude, for the condescension of her visit, was astonished by thecourage, and disconcerted by the truth of this exhortation. She was byno means ignorant how unpleasantly Ellis might have been struck by herbehaviour at the church; but she thought her in a condition too forlornto feel, much less to express any resentment: and she meant, by enteringthe chamber with an wholly uncustomary importance, to awe her fromhazarding any complaint. But the modesty of Ellis was a mixture ofdignity with humility; if she thought herself oppressed or insulted, theformer predominated; if she experienced consideration and kindness, shewas all meek gratitude in return.

  But when, by the steadiness of her representation, Miss Arbe found herown mistake, and saw what firmness could exist with indigence, whatspirit could break through difficulty, she disguised her surprise, andchanged, with alertness, the whole of her manner. She protested thatsome other voice must have been taken for her's; declared that she hadalways thought nobody so charming as Miss Ellis; railed against theabominable world for its prejudices; warmly renewed her professions ofregard; and then rang the bell, to order her footman to bring up alittle parcel of music from her coach, which she was sure would delightthem both to try together.

  Ellis suffered the music to be fetched; but, before she would play it,entreated Miss Arbe to spare a few minutes to discourse upon heraffairs.

  'What, Madam, am I now to do? 'Tis to your influence and exertions I amindebted for the attempt which I have made, to procure thatself-dependance which I so earnestly covet. I shall always be most readyto acknowledge this obligation; but, permit me to solicit yourdirections, and, I hope, your aid, how I may try to allay the stormwhich accident has so cruelly raised around me; but which misconceptionalone can make dangerous or durable.'

  'Very true, my dear Miss Ellis, if every body judged you as justly as Ido; but when people have enemies--'

  'Enemies?' repeated Ellis, amazed, 'surely, Madam, you are notserious?--Enemies? Can I possibly have any enemies? That, in a situationso little known, and so unlikely to be understood, I may have failed tocreate friends, I can easily, indeed, conceive,--but, offending no one,distressed, yet not importunate, and seeking to obviate my difficultiesby my exertions; to supply my necessities by my labours,--surely Icannot have been so strangely, so unaccountably unfortunate as to havemade myself any enemies?'

  'Why you know, my dear Miss Ellis, how I blamed you, from the first, forthat nonsense of telling Miss Brinville that she had no ear for music:what could it signify whether she had or not? She only wanted to learnthat she might say she learnt; and you had no business to teach, butthat you might be paid for teaching.'

  'And is it possible, Madam, that I can have made her really my enemy,merely by forbearing to take what I thought would be a dishonourableadvantage, of her ignorance of that defect?'

  'Nay, she has certainly no great reason to be thankful, for she wouldnever have found it out; and I am sure nobody else would ever have toldit her! She is firmly persuaded that you only wanted to give Sir LyellSycamore an ill opinion of her accomplishments; for she declares thatshe has seen you unceasingly pursuing him, with all the wilesimaginable. One time she surprised you sitting entirely aloof, at theWelshman's benefit, till he joined you; another time, she caught youwaiting for him in the aisle of the church; and, in short--'

  'Miss Arbe,' cried Ellis, interrupting her, with undisguised resentment,'if Miss Brinville can be amused by inventing, as well as propagating,premeditated motives for accidental occurrences, you must permit me todecline being the auditress, if I cannot escape being the object of suchfictitious censure!'

  Miss Arbe, somewhat ashamed, repeated her assurances of personal goodopinion; and then, with many pompous professions of regard and concern,owned that there had been a discussion at Lady Kendover's, afterchurch-time on Sunday, which had concluded by a final decision, of herladyship's, that it was utterly impossible to admit a young woman, soobscurely involved in strange circumstances, and so ready to fall intolow company, to so confidential a kind of intercourse, as that of givinginstructions to young persons of fashion. Every body else, of course,would abide by her ladyship's decision, 'and therefore, my dear MissEllis,' she continued, 'I am excessively sorry, but our plan is quiteoverset. I am excessively sorry, I assure you; but what can be done?However, I have not above three minutes to stay, so do let us try thatsweet adagio. I want vastly to conquer the horrid long bars of thateternal cadenza.'

  Ellis, for a few moments, stood almost stupified with amazement at soselfish a proposition, at the very instant of announcing so ruinous asentence. But disdain soon supplied her with philosophy, and scorning tomake an appeal for a consideration so unfeelingly withheld, she calmlywent to her harp.

  When Miss Arbe, however, rose to be gone, she begged some advicerelative both to the debts which she had contracted, and those which shewas entitled to claim; but Miss Arbe, looking at her watch, and hurryingon her gloves, declared that she had not a second to lose. 'I shall seeyou, however,' she cried, in quitting the chamber, 'as often aspossible: I can find a thousand pretences for coming to Miss Matson's,without any body's knowing why; so we can still have our delightfullittle musical meetings.'

  The contempt inspired by this worldly patroness, so intent upon her ownadvantage, so insensible to the distress of the person whom she affectedto protect, occupied the mind of Ellis only while she was present; thedoor was no sooner shut, than she felt wholly engrossed by her ownsituation, and her disappointment at large. This scheme, then, shecried, is already at an end! this plan for self-dependence is alreadyabortive! And I have not my disappointment only to bear, it isaccompanied with disgrace, and exposes me to indignity!

  Deeply hurt and strongly affected, how insufficient, sheexclaimed, is a FEMALE to herself! How utterly dependant uponsituation--connexions--circumstance! how nameless, how for everfresh-springing are her DIFFICULTIES, when she would owe her existenceto her own exertions! Her conduct is criticised, not scrutinized; hercharacter is censured, not examined; her labours are unhonoured, and herqualifications are but lures to ill will! Calumny hovers over her head,and slander follows her footsteps!

  Here she checked herself; candour, the reigning feature of her mind,repressed her murmurs. Involved as I am in darkness and obscurity, shecried, ought I to expect milder judgment? No! I have no right tocomplain. Appearances are against me; and to appearances are we not alleither victims or dupes?

  She now turned her thoughts to what measures she must next pursue; butfelt no chance of equally satisfying herself in any other attempt. Musicwas her favourite study, and in the practice of that elegant, grateful,soul-soothing art, she found a softening to her cares, that momentarily,at least, lulled them to something like forgetfulness. And though thiswas a charm that could by no means extend to the dull and dry labour ofteaching, it was a profession so preferable to all others, in her taste,that she bore patiently and cheerfully the minute, mechanical, andear-wearing toil, of giving lessons to the unapt, the stupid, the idle,and the wilful; for such, unhappily are the epithets most ordinarily dueto beginners in all sciences and studies.

  The necessity, however,
of adopting some plan that should both be speedyand vigorous, was soon alarmingly enforced by a visit from Miss Matson;who civilly, but with evidently altered manners, told her that she had alittle account to settle with some tradesmen, and that she should takeit as a favour if her own account could be settled for her lodgings.

  There are few attacks to which we are liable, that give a greater shockto upright and unhackneyed minds, than a pecuniary demand which theyknow to be just, yet cannot satisfy. Pride and shame assault them atonce. They are offended by a summons that seems to imply a doubt oftheir integrity; while they blush at appearing to have incurred it, bynot having more scrupulously balanced their means with their expences.

  She suffered, therefore, the most sensible mortification, from herinability to discharge, without delay, a debt contracted with astranger, upon whose generosity she had no claim; upon whose forbearanceshe had no tie.

  Far from having this power, she had other bills to expect which she aslittle could answer. The twenty pounds of Lady Aurora were alreadynearly gone, in articles which did not admit of trust; and in thecurrent necessaries which her situation indispensably and dailyrequired. She feared that all the money which was due to her would beinsufficient to pay what she owed; or, at least, would be whollyemployed in that act of justice; which would leave her, therefore, inthe same utter indigence as when she began her late attempt.

  Her look of consternation served but to stimulate the demands of MissMatson, which were now accompanied with allusions to the conversationthat had been held in the shop, between Miss Bydel and Mr Riley,relative to her poverty and disguise, that were designedly offensive.

  Ellis, with an air grave and commanding, desired to be left alone;calmly saying that Miss Matson should very speedily be satisfied.

  The impulse of her wishes was to have recourse to the deposit ofHarleigh, that her answer to this affront might be an immediate changeof lodging, as well as payment. But this was a thought that scarcelyout-lived the moment of its formation. Alas! she cried, he who alonecould serve me, whose generosity and benevolence would delight in aidingme, has put it out of my power to accept his smallest assistance! Had myfriendship contented him, how essentially might I have been indebted tohis good offices!

  She was here broken in upon by one of the young apprentices, who, withmany apologies, brought, from the several trades-people, all the littlebills which had been incurred through the directions of Miss Arbe.

  However severely she was shocked, she could not be surprised. She wroteimmediately to communicate these demands to Miss Arbe, stating herdistress, and entreating that her late scholars might be urged to settletheir accounts with the utmost expedition. She felt her right to makethis application to Miss Arbe, whose advice, or rather insistance, hadimpelled her into the measures which produced her present difficulties.Her request, therefore, though urged with deference and respect, had atone which she was sure could not justly be disputed.

  She wished earnestly to address a few words to Lady Kendover, of such anature as might speak in her favour to her scholars at large; but somany obstacles were in the way, to her giving any satisfactoryexplanation, that she was obliged to be contented with silentacquiescence.

  Miss Arbe sent word that she was engaged, and could not write. The restof the day was passed in great anxiety. But when the following, also,wore away, without producing any reply, she wrote again, proposing, ifMiss Arbe had not time to attend to her request, to submit it to MissBydel.

  In about half an hour after she had sent this second note, Mr Giles Arbedesired to be admitted, that he might deliver to her a message from hiscousin.

  She recollected having heard, from Selina, that he was a very absent,but worthy old man, and that he had the very best temper of any personbreathing.

  She did not hesitate, therefore, to receive him; and his appearanceannounced, at once, the latter quality, by a smile the mostinartificial, which was evidently the emanation of a kind heart, openingto immediate good will at sight of a fellow-creature. It seemed thevisible index of a good and innocent mind; and his manners had the mostsingular simplicity.

  His cousin, he said, had desired him to acquaint her, that she could notcall, because she was particularly engaged; and could not write,because, she was particularly hurried. 'And whenever I have a commissionfrom my cousin,' he continued, 'I always think it best to deliver it inher own words, for two or three reasons; one of which is that my ownmight not be half as good; for she is the most accomplished young ladyliving, I am told; and my other reasons you'll do me a favour by notasking me to mention.'

  'I may, at least infer, then, Sir, that, when less hurried, and lessengaged, Miss Arbe means to have the goodness to come, or to write tome?'

  'I don't doubt it: those ladies that she don't like should see her withyou, can hardly keep watching her all day long.'

  'What ladies, Sir?'

  'O, I must not mention names!' returned he, smiling; 'my cousin chargedme not. My fair cousin likes very well to be obeyed. But, may be, so doyou, too? For they tell me it's not an uncommon thing among ladies. Andif that's the case, I shall find myself in a dilemma; for my cousin hasthe best right; and yet, what have you done to me that I should deny youwhat you ask me?'

  Then looking earnestly, but with an air so innocent, that it wasimpossible to give offence, in her face, he added, 'My cousin has oftentold me a great many things about you; yet she never mentioned yourbeing so pretty! But may be she thought I might find it out.'

  Ellis enquired whether he were acquainted with the nature of herapplication to Miss Arbe.

  He nodded an assent, but checking himself from confirming it, cried, 'Mycousin bid me say nothing; for she will have it that I always mentionthings that should not be told; and that makes me very careful. So Ihope you won't be angry if you find me rather upon my guard.'

  Ellis disclaimed all inquisitive designs, beyond desiring to know,whether Miss Arbe meant that she should discuss her situation with him,and receive his counsel how she should proceed.

  'My cousin never asks my counsel,' he answered: 'she knows every thingbest herself. She is very clever, they tell me. She often recounts to mehow she surprises people. So does her papa. I believe they think Ishould not discover it else. And I don't know but they are in the right,for I am a very indifferent judge. But I can't make out, with thatgentle air of yours, and so pretty a face, how you can have made thoseladies take such a dislike to you?'

  'A dislike, Sir?'

  'Yes; Lady Arramede talks of you with prodigious contempt, and--'

  Ellis colouring at this word, hung back, evidently declining to hearanother; but Mr Giles, not remarking this, went on. 'And Miss Brinvillecan't endure you, neither. It's a curious thing to see what an angrylook comes over her features, when she talks of you. Do you know thereason?'

  'I flatter myself it is not to be known, Sir! Certainly I am innocent ofany design of offending her.'

  'Why then perhaps she does not know what she has taken amiss, herself,poor lady! She's only affronted, and can't tell why. It will happen sosometimes, to those pretty ladies, when they begin going a little downhill. And they can't help it. They don't know what to make of itthemselves, poor things! But we can see how it is better, welookers-on.'

  He then seated himself upon an arm-chair, and, leaning back at his ease,continued talking, but without looking at Ellis, or seeming to addressher.

  'I always pity them, the moment I see them, those pretty creatures, evenwhen they are in their prime. I always think what they have got to gothrough. After seeing every body admire them, to see nobody look atthem! And when they cast their eyes on a glass, to find themselves everyday changing,--and always for the worse! It is but hard upon them, Ireally think, when they have done nothing to deserve it. It is but ashort time ago that that Miss Brinville was almost as pretty as thisyoung harp-player here.'--

  'Sir!' cried Ellis, surprised.

  'Ma'am?' cried he, starting, and looking round; and then, smiling athimself, adding, 'I prote
st I did not think of your being so near me! Ihad forgot that. But I hope you won't take it ill?'

  'By no means,' she answered; and asked whether she might write a fewlines by him to Miss Arbe.

  He willingly consented.

  She then drew up an animated representation, to that lady, of theirksome situation into which she was cast, from the evident distrustmanifested by Miss Matson; and the suspicious speed with which the otherbills had been delivered. She meant to send her small accountsimmediately to all her scholars, and entreated Miss Arbe to use herinterest in hastening their discharge.

  When she raised her head to give this, with an apology, to Mr Giles, shesaw him unfolding some small papers, which he began very earnestly toexamine. Not to interrupt him, she took up some needle-work; but, uponlooking, soon after, at the chimney-piece, she missed the packet whichshe had placed there, of her bills, and then with the utmost surprise,perceived that it was in his hands.

  She waited a few instants, in expectation that he would either put itdown, or make some excuse for his curiosity; but he seemed to think ofnothing less. He sorted and counted the bills, and began casting themup.

  'Have you then the goodness, Sir,' said Ellis, 'to prepare yourself foracquainting Miss Arbe with the state of my affairs?'

  He started again at this question, and looked a little scared; but,after a minute's perplexity, he suddenly arose, and hastily refolding,and placing them upon the chimney-piece, said, with a good deal ofconfusion, 'I beg your pardon a thousand times! I don't well know howthis happened; but the chimney-piece looks so like my own,--and thefire was so comfortable,--that I suppose I thought I was at home, andtook that parcel for one that the servant had put there for me. And Iwas wondering to myself when I had ordered all those linens, andmuslins, and the like: I could not recollect one article of them.'

  He then, after again begging her pardon, took leave.

  While Ellis was ruminating whether this strange conduct were the effectof absence, oddity, or curiosity, he abruptly returned, and said, 'Iprotest I was going without my errand, at last! Did you bid me tell mycousin that all those bills were paid?'

  'All paid?--alas, no!--not one of them!'

  'And why not? You should always pay your bills, my dear.'

  Ellis looked at him in much perplexity, to see whether this were utteredas a sneer, or as a remonstrance; but soon perceived, by the earnestnessof his countenance, that it was the latter; and then, with a sigh,answered, 'You are undoubtedly right, Sir! I am the first to condemn allthat appears against me! But I made my late attempt with a persuasionthat I was as secure of repaying others, as of serving myself. I wouldnot, else, have run any risk, where I should not have been the solesufferer.'

  'But what,' said he, staring, and shutting the door, and not seeming tocomprehend her, 'what is the reason that you can't pay your bills?'

  'A very simple reason, Sir--I have not the power!'

  'Not the power?--what, are you very poor, then?'

  Ellis could not forbear smiling, but seeing him put his hand in hispocket, hastened to answer, 'Yes, Sir,--but very proud, too! I amsometimes, therefore, involved in the double distress, of being obligedto refuse the very assistance I require.'

  'But you would not refuse mine!'

  'Without a moment's hesitation!'

  'Would you, indeed? And from what motive?'

  Again Ellis could scarcely keep her countenance, at a question sounexpected, while she answered, 'From the customs, Sir, of the world, Ihave been brought up to avoid all obligations with strangers.'

  'How so? I don't at all see that. Have you not an obligation to thatlinen draper, and hosier, and I don't know who, there, upon yourchimney-piece, if you take their things, and don't pay for them?'

  Yet more struck with the sense of unbiassed equity manifested by thisquestion, than by the simplicity shewn by that which had preceded it,Ellis felt her face suffused with shame, as she replied, 'I blush tohave incurred such a reprimand; but I hope to convince you, by theexertions which I shall not a moment delay making, how little it is myintention to practise any such injustice; and how wide it would be frommy approbation.'

  She sat down, sensibly affected by the necessity of uttering thisvindication.

  'Well, then,' said he, without observing her distress, 'won't it be morehonest to run in debt with an old bachelor, who has nobody but himselfto take care of, than with a set of poor people who, perhaps, have gottheir houses full of children?'

  The word honest, and the impossibility of disproving a charge ofinjuring those by whom she had been served, so powerfully shocked herfeelings in arraigning her principles, that she could frame no answer.

  Conceiving her silence to be assent, he returned to the chimney-piece,and, taking the little packet of bills, prepared to put it into hispocket-book; but, hastily, then, rising, she entreated him to restore itwithout delay.

  Her manner was so earnest that he did not dare contest her will, thoughhe looked nearly as angry as he was sorry. 'I meant,' he said, 'to havegiven you the greatest pleasure in the world; that was what I meant. Ithought your debts made you so unhappy, that you would love me all yourlife for getting them off your hands. I loved a person so myself, whopaid for some tops for me, when I was a boy, that I had bought for someof my playmates; without recollecting that I had no money to pay forthem. However, I beg your pardon for my blunder, if you like your debtsbetter.'

  He now bowed to her, with an air of concern, and, wishing her health andhappiness, retreated; but left her door wide open; and she heard him sayto the milliners, 'My dears, I've made a great mistake: I wanted to setthat pretty lady's heart at rest, by paying her bills; but she says shehad rather owe them; though she did not mention her reason. So I hopethe poor people are in no great hurry. However, whether they be or not,don't let them torment her for the money, for she says she has none. So'twould only be plaguing her for nothing. And I should be sorry for her,for she looks as if she were very smart, besides being so pretty.'