CHAPTER IX.
It may be asked if a woman of this character did not attract the noticeof the world. Her station, no less than her modes of thinking, excludedher from the concourse of the opulent and the gay. She kept herself inprivacy: her engagements confined her to her own fireside, and herneighbours enjoyed no means of penetrating through that obscurity inwhich she wrapt herself. There were, no doubt, persons of her own sexcapable of estimating her worth, and who could have hastened to raise somuch merit from the indigence to which it was condemned. She might, atleast, have found associates and friends justly entitled to heraffection. But whether she were peculiarly unfortunate in this respect,or whether it arose from a jealous and unbending spirit that wouldremit none of its claims to respect, and was backward in its overturesto kindness and intimacy, it so happened that her hours were, for a longperiod, enlivened by no companion but her father and her faithful Lucy.The humbleness of her dwelling, her plain garb, and the meanness of heroccupation, were no passports to the favour of the rich and vain. These,added to her youth and beauty, frequently exposed her to insults, fromwhich, though productive for a time of mortification and distress, she,for the most part, extricated herself by her spirited carriage andpresence of mind.
One incident of this kind it will be necessary to mention. One eveningher engagements carried her abroad. She had proposed to returnimmediately, finding by experience the danger that was to be dreaded bya woman young and unprotected. Something occurred that unavoidablylengthened her stay, and she set out on her return at a late hour. Oneof the other sex offered her his guardianship; but this she declined,and proceeded homeward alone.
Her way lay through streets but little inhabited, and whose fewinhabitants were of the profligate class. She was conscious of theinconveniences to which she was exposed, and therefore tripped alongwith all possible haste. She had not gone far before she perceived,through the dusk, two men standing near a porch before her. She had gonetoo far to recede or change her course without exciting observation, andshe flattered herself that the persons would behave with decency.Encouraged by these reflections, and somewhat hastening her pace, shewent on. As soon as she came opposite the place where they stood, one ofthem threw himself round, and caught her arm, exclaiming, in a broadtone, "Whither so fast, my love, at this time of night?" The other, atthe same time, threw his arm round her waist, crying out, "A prettyprize, by G--: just in the nick of time."
They were huge and brawny fellows, in whose grasp her feeble strengthwas annihilated. Their motions were so sudden that she had not time toescape by flight. Her struggles merely furnished them with a subject oflaughter. He that held her waist proceeded to pollute her cheeks withhis kisses, and drew her into the porch. He tore her from the grasp ofhim who first seized her, who seemed to think his property invaded, andsaid, in a surly tone, "What now, Jemmy? Damn your heart, d'ye thinkI'll be fobbed? Have done with your slabbering, Jemmy. First come, firstserved," and seemed disposed to assert his claims by force.
To this brutality Constantia had nothing to oppose but fruitlessstruggles and shrieks for help. Succour was, fortunately, at hand. Herexclamations were heard by a person across the street, who instantlyran, and with some difficulty disengaged her from the grasp of theruffians. He accompanied her the rest of the way, bestowed on her everypolite attention, and, though pressed to enter the house, declined theinvitation. She had no opportunity of examining the appearance of hernew friend: this the darkness of the night, and her own panic,prevented.
Next day a person called upon her whom she instantly recognized to beher late protector. He came with some message from his sister. Hismanners were simple and unostentatious and breathed the genuine spiritof civility. Having performed his commission, and once more received thethanks which she poured forth with peculiar warmth for his last night'sinterposition, he took his leave.
The name of this man was Balfour. He was middle-aged, of a figureneither elegant nor ungainly, and an aspect that was mild and placid,but betrayed few marks of intelligence. He was an adventurer fromScotland, whom a strict adherence to the maxims of trade had renderedopulent. He was governed by the principles of mercantile integrity inall his dealings, and was affable and kind, without being generous, inhis treatment of inferiors. He was a stranger to violent emotions of anykind, and his intellectual acquisitions were limited to his ownprofession.
His demeanour was tranquil and uniform. He was sparing of words, andthese were uttered in the softest manner. In all his transactions he wadsedate and considerate. In his dress and mode of living there were noappearances of parsimony, but there were, likewise, as few traces ofprofusion.
His sister had shared in his prosperity. As soon as his affairs wouldpermit, he sent for her to Scotland, where she had lived in a statelittle removed from penury, and had for some years been vested with thesuperintendence of his household. There was a considerable resemblancebetween them in person and character. Her profession, or those arts inwhich her situation had compelled her to acquire skill, had not an equaltendency to enlarge the mind as those of her brother, but the views ofeach were limited to one set of objects. His superiority was owing, notto any inherent difference, but to accident.
Balfour's life had been a model of chasteness and regularity,--thoughthis was owing more to constitutional coldness, and a frugal spirit,than to virtuous forbearance; but, in his schemes for the future, he didnot exclude the circumstance of marriage. Having attained a situationsecure as the nature of human affairs will admit from the chances ofpoverty, the way was sufficiently prepared for matrimony. His thoughtshad been for some time employed in the selection of a suitablecompanion, when this rencounter happened with Miss Dudley.
Balfour was not destitute of those feelings which are called into playby the sight of youth and beauty in distress. This incident was notspeedily forgotten. The emotions produced by it were new to him. Hereviewed them oftener, and with more complacency, than any which he hadbefore experienced. They afforded him so much satisfaction, that, inorder to preserve them undiminished, he resolved to repeat his visit.Constantia treated him as one from whom she had received a considerablebenefit. Her sweetness and gentleness were uniform, and Balfour foundthat her humble roof promised him more happiness than his own fireside,or the society of his professional brethren.
He could not overlook, in the course of such reflections as these, thequestion relative to marriage, and speedily determined to solicit thehonour of her hand. He had not decided without his usual foresight anddeliberation; nor had he been wanting in the accuracy of hisobservations and inquiries. Those qualifications, indeed, which were ofchief value in his eyes, lay upon the surface. He was no judge of herintellectual character, or of the loftiness of her morality. Not eventhe graces of person, or features or manners, attracted much of hisattention. He remarked her admirable economy of time, and money, andlabour, the simplicity of her dress, her evenness of temper, and herlove of seclusion. These ware essential requisites of a wife, in hisapprehension. The insignificance of his own birth, the lowness of hisoriginal fortune, and the efficacy of industry and temperance to conferand maintain wealth, had taught him indifference as to birth or fortunein his spouse. His moderate desires in this respect were gratified, andhe was anxious only for a partner that would aid him in preservingrather than in enlarging his property. He esteemed himself eminentlyfortunate in meeting with one in whom every matrimonial qualificationconcentred.
He was not deficient in modesty, but he fancied that, on this occasion,there was no possibility of miscarriage. He held her capacity in deepveneration, but this circumstance rendered him more secure of success.He conceived this union to be even more eligible with regard to her thanto himself, and confided in the rectitude of her understanding for adecision favourable to his wishes.
Before any express declaration was made, Constantia easily predicted theevent from the frequency of his visits; and the attentiveness of hismanners. It was no difficult task to ascertain this man's character. Hermodes of thinking
were, in few respects, similar to those of her lover.She was eager to investigate, in the first place, the attributes of hismind. His professional and household maxims were not of inconsiderableimportance, but they were subordinate considerations. In the poverty ofhis discourse and ideas she quickly found reasons for determining herconduct.
Marriage she had but little considered, as it is in itself. What are thegenuine principles of that relation, and what conduct with respect to itis prescribed to rational beings by their duty, she had not hithertoinvestigated. But she was not backward to inquire what are the preceptsof duty in her own particular case. She knew herself to be young; shewas sensible of the daily enlargement of her knowledge: every daycontributed to rectify some error, or confirm some truth. These benefitsshe owed to her situation, which, whatever were its evils, gave her asmuch freedom from restraint as is consistent with the state of humanaffairs. Her poverty fettered her exertions, and circumscribed herpleasures. Poverty, therefore, was an evil, and the reverse of povertywas to be desired. But riches were not barren of constraint, and itsadvantages might be purchased at too dear a rate.
Allowing that the wife is enriched by marriage, how humiliating were theconditions annexed to it in the present case! The company of one withwhom we have no sympathy, nor sentiments in common, is, of all speciesof solitude, the most loathsome and dreary. The nuptial life is attendedwith peculiar aggravations, since the tie is infrangible, and the choiceof a more suitable companion, if such a one should offer, is for everprecluded. The hardships of wealth are not incompensated by somebenefits; but these benefits, false and hollow as they are, cannot beobtained by marriage. Her acceptance of Balfour would merely aggravateher indigence.
Now she was at least mistress of the product of her own labour. Hertasks were toilsome, but the profits, though slender, were sure, andshe administered her little property in what manner she pleased.Marriage would annihilate this, power. Henceforth she would he berefteven of personal freedom. So far from possessing property, she herselfwould become the property of another.
She was not unaware of the consequences flowing from differences ofcapacity, and that power, to whomsoever legally granted, will beexercised by the most addressful; but she derived no encouragement fromthese considerations. She would not stoop to gain her end by the hatefularts of the sycophant, and was too wise to place an unbounded relianceon the influence of truth. The character, likewise, of this man,sufficiently exempted him from either of those influences.
She did not forget the nature of the altar-vows. To abdicate the use ofher own understanding was scarcely justifiable in any case; but to vowan affection that was not felt, and could not be compelled, and topromise obedience to one whose judgment was glaringly defective, wereacts atrociously criminal. Education, besides, had created in her aninsurmountable abhorrence of admitting to conjugal privileges the manwho had no claim upon her love. It could not be denied that a state ofabundant accommodation was better than the contrary; but thisconsideration, though, in the most rational estimate, of some weight,she was not so depraved and effeminate as to allow to overweigh theopposite evils. Homely liberty was better than splendid servitude.
Her resolution was easily formed, but there were certain impediments inthe way of its execution. These chiefly arose from deference to theopinion, and compassion for the infirmities of her father. He assumed nocontrol over her actions. His reflections in the present case wererather understood than expressed. When uttered, it was with themildness of equality, and the modesty of persuasion. It was thiscircumstance that conferred upon them all their force. His decision onso delicate a topic was not wanting in sagacity and moderation; but, asa man, he had his portion of defects, and his frame was enfeebled bydisease and care; yet he set no higher value on the ease andindependence of his former condition than any man of like experience. Hecould not endure to exist on the fruits of his daughter's labour. Heascribed her decision to a spirit of excessive refinement, and was, ofcourse, disposed to give little quarter to maiden scruples. They werephantoms, he believed, which experience would dispel. His morality,besides, was of a much more flexible kind; and the marriage vows were,in his opinion, formal and unmeaning, and neither in themselves, nor inthe opinion of the world, accompanied with any rigorous obligation. Hedrew more favourable omens from the known capacity of his daughter, andthe flexibility of her lover.
She demanded his opinion and advice. She listened to his reasonings, andrevolved them with candour and impartiality. She stated her objectionswith simplicity; but the difference of age and sex was sufficient topreclude agreement. Arguments were of no use but to prolong the debate;but, happily, the magnanimity of Mr. Dudley would admit of no sacrifice.Her opinions, it is true, were erroneous; but he was willing that sheshould regulate her conduct by her own conceptions of right, and not bythose of another. To refuse Balfour's offers was an evil, but an evilinexpressibly exceeded by that of accepting them contrary to her ownsense of propriety.
Difficulties, likewise, arose from the consideration of what was due tothe man who had already benefited her, and who, in this act, intended toconfer upon her further benefit. These, though the source of someembarrassment, were not sufficient to shake her resolution. Balfourcould not understand her principal objections. They were of a sizealtogether disproportioned to his capacity. Her moral speculations werequite beyond the sphere of his reflections. She could not expatiate,without a breach of civility, on the disparity of their minds, and yetthis was the only or principal ground on which she had erected herscruples.
Her father loved her too well not to be desirous of relieving her from apainful task, though undertaken without necessity, and contrary to hisopinion. "Refer him to me," said he; "I will make the best of thematter, and render your refusal as palatable as possible; but do youauthorize me to make it absolute, and without appeal."
"My dear father! how good you are! but that shall be my province. If Ierr, let the consequences of my mistake be confined to myself. It wouldbe cruel indeed to make you the instrument in a transaction which yourjudgment disapproves. My reluctance was a weak and foolish thing.Strange, indeed, if the purity of my motives will not bear me out onthis, as it has done on many more arduous occasions."
"Well, be it so; that is best I believe. Ten to one but I, with my wantof eyes would blunder, while yours will be of no small use in a contestwith a lover. They will serve you to watch the transitions in his placidphysiognomy, and overpower his discontents."
She was aware of the inconveniences to which this resolution wouldsubject her; but since they were unavoidable, she armed herself with therequisite patience. Her apprehensions were not without reason. More thanone conference was necessary to convince him of her meaning, and inorder to effect her purpose she was obliged to behave with so muchexplicitness as to hazard giving him offence. This affair wasproductive of no small vexation. He had put too much faith in thevalidity of his pretensions, and the benefits of perseverance, to beeasily shaken off.
This decision was not borne by him with as much patience as she wished.He deemed himself unjustly treated, and his resentment exceeded thosebounds of moderation which he prescribed to himself on all otheroccasions. From his anger, however, there was not much to be dreaded;but, unfortunately, his sister partook of his indignation and indulgedher petulance, which was enforced by every gossiping and tattlingpropensity, to the irreparable disadvantage of Constantia.
She owed her support to her needle. She was dependent therefore on thecaprice of customers. This caprice was swayable by every breath, andpaid a merely subordinate regard, in the choice of workwomen, to thecircumstances of skill, cheapness and diligence. In consequence ofthis, her usual sources of subsistence began to fail.
Indigence, as well as wealth, is comparative. He indeed must bewretched, whose food, clothing, and shelter, are limited, both in kindand quantity, by the standard of mere necessity; who, in the choice offood, for example, is governed by no consideration but its cheapness,and its capacity to sustain nature. Yet to t
his degree of wretchednesswas Miss Dudley reduced.
As her means of subsistence began to decay, she reflected on the changeof employment that might become necessary. She was mistress of nolucrative art but that which now threatened to be useless. There was butone avenue through which she could hope to escape from the pressure ofabsolute want. This she regarded with an aversion that nothing butextreme necessity, and the failure of every other expedient, would beable to subdue. This was the hiring herself as a servant. Even thatcould not answer all her purposes. If a subsistence were provided by itfor herself, whither should her father and her Lucy betake themselvesfor support?
Hitherto her labour had been sufficient to shut out famine and the cold.It is true she had been cut off from all the direct means of personal ormental gratification; but her constitution had exempted her from theinsalutary effects of sedentary application. She could not tell how longshe could enjoy this exemption, but it was absurd to anticipate thoseevils which might never arrive. Meanwhile, her situation was notdestitute of comfort. The indirect means of intellectual improvement inconversation and reflection, the inexpensive amusement of singing, and,above all, the consciousness of performing her duty, and maintaining herindependence inviolate, were still in her possession. Her lodging washumble, and her fare frugal, but these temperance and a due regard tothe use of money would require from the most opulent.
Now retrenchments must be made even from this penurious provision. Herexertions might somewhat defer, but could not prevent, the ruin of herunhappy family. Their landlord was a severe exacter of his dues. The dayof quarterly payment was past, and he had not failed in his usualpunctuality. She was unable to satisfy his demands, and Mr. Dudley wasofficially informed, that unless payment was made before a day fixed,resort would be had to the law, in that case made and provided.
This seemed to be the completion of their misfortunes. It was not enoughto soften the implacability of their landlord. A respite might possiblybe obtained from this harsh sentence. Entreaties might prevail upon himto allow of their remaining under this roof for some time longer; butshelter at this inclement season was not enough. Without fire they mustperish with the cold; and fuel could be procured only for money, ofwhich the last shilling was expended. Food was no less indispensable;and, their credit being gone, not a loaf could be extorted from theavarice of the bakers in the neighbourhood.
The sensations produced by this accumulation of distress may be moreeasily conceived than described. Mr. Dudley sunk into despair, when Lucyinformed him that the billet of wood she was putting on the fire was thelast. "Well," said he, "the game is up. Where is my daughter?" Theanswer was, that she was up-stairs.
"Why, there she has been this hour. Tell her to come down and warmherself. She must needs be cold, and here is a cheerful blaze. I feel itmyself. Like the lightning that precedes death, it beams thus brightly,though in a few moments it will be extinguished forever. Let my darlingcome and partake of its comforts before they expire."
Constantia had retired in order to review her situation and devise someexpedients that might alleviate it. It was a sore extremity to which shewas reduced. Things had come to a desperate pass, and the remedyrequired must be no less desperate. It was impossible to see her fatherperish. She herself would have died before she would have condescendedto beg. It was not worth prolonging a life which must subsist upon alms.She would have wandered into the fields at dusk, have seated herselfupon an unfrequented bank, and serenely waited the approach of thatdeath which the rigours of the season would have rendered sure. But asit was, it became her to act in a very different manner.
During her father's prosperity, some mercantile intercourse had takenplace between him and a merchant of this city. The latter on someoccasion had spent a few nights at her father's house. She was greatlycharmed with the humanity that shone forth in his conversation andbehaviour. From that time to this all intercourse had ceased. She wasacquainted with the place of his abode, and knew him to be affluent. Tohim she determined to apply as a suppliant in behalf of her father. Shedid not inform Mr. Dudley of this intention, conceiving it best to waittill the event had been ascertained, for fear of exciting fallaciousexpectations. She was further deterred by the apprehension of awakeninghis pride, and bringing on herself an absolute prohibition.
She arrived at the door of Mr. Melbourne's house, and inquiring for themaster of it, was informed that he had gone out of town, and was notexpected to return for a week.
Her scheme, which was by no means unplausible, was thus completelyfrustrated. There was but one other resource, on which she had alreadydeliberated, and to which she had determined to apply if that shouldfail. That was to claim assistance from the superintendants of the poor.She was employed in considering to which of them, and in what manner sheshould make her application, when she turned the corner of Lombard andSecond Streets. That had scarcely been done, when casting her eyesmournfully round her, she caught a glimpse of a person whom sheinstantly recognized passing into the market-place. She followed himwith quick steps, and on a second examination found that she had notbeen mistaken. This was no other than Thomas Craig, to whose malignityand cunning all her misfortunes were imputable.
She was at first uncertain what use to make of this discovery. Shefollowed him instinctively, and saw him at length enter the Indian QueenTavern. Here she stopped. She entertained a confused conception thatsome beneficial consequences might be extracted from this event. In thepresent hurry of her thoughts she could form no satisfactory conclusion;but it instantly occurred to her that it would at least be proper toascertain the place of his abode. She stept into the inn, and made thesuitable inquiries. She was informed that the gentleman had come fromBaltimore a month before, and had since resided at that house. How soonhe meant to leave the city her informant was unable to tell.
Having gained this intelligence, she returned home, and once more shutherself in her chamber to meditate on this new posture of affairs.
CHAPTER X.
Craig was indebted to her father. He had defrauded him by the mostatrocious and illicit arts. On either account he was liable toprosecution; but her heart rejected the thought of being the author ofinjury to any man. The dread of punishment, however, might induce him torefund, uncoercively, the whole or some part of the stolen property.Money was at this moment necessary to existence, and she conceivedherself justly entitled to that of which her father had beenperfidiously despoiled.
But the law was formal and circuitous. Money itself was necessary topurchase its assistance. Besides, it could not act with unseen virtueand instantaneous celerity. The co-operation of advocates and officerswas required. They must be visited, and harangued, and importuned. Wasshe adequate to the task? Would the energy of her mind supply the placeof experience, and with a sort of miraculous efficacy, afford her theknowledge of official processes and dues? As little on this occasioncould be expected from her father as from her. He was infirm and blind.The spirit that animated his former days was flown. His heart's bloodwas chilled by the rigours of his fortune. He had discarded hisindignation and his enmities, and together with them, hope itself hadperished in his bosom. He waited in tranquil despair, for that strokewhich would deliver him from life, and all the woes that it inherits.
But these considerations were superfluous. It was enough that justicemust be bought, and that she had not the equivalent. Legal proceedingsare encumbered with delay, and her necessities were urgent. Succour, ifwithheld till the morrow, would be useless. Hunger and cold would notbe trifled with. What resource was there left in this her uttermostdistress? Must she yield, in imitation of her father, to the cowardlysuggestions of despair?
Craig might be rich: his coffers might be stuffed with thousands. Allthat he had, according to the principles of social equity, was hers; yethe, to whom nothing belonged, rioted in superfluity, while she, therightful claimant, was driven to the point of utmost need. The properinstrument of her restoration was law, but its arm was powerless, forshe had not the means of bribing
it into activity. But was law the onlyinstrument?
Craig perhaps was accessible. Might she not, with propriety, demand aninterview, and lay before him the consequences of his baseness? He wasnot divested of the last remains of humanity. It was impossible that heshould not relent at the picture of those distresses of which he was theauthor. Menaces of legal prosecution she meant not to use, because shewas unalterably resolved against that remedy. She confided in theefficacy of her pleadings to awaken his justice. This interview she wasdetermined immediately to seek. She was aware that by some accident herpurpose might be frustrated. Access to his person might, for thepresent, be impossible, or might be denied. It was proper, therefore towrite him a letter, which might be substituted in place of an interview.It behoved her to be expeditious, for the light was failing, and herstrength was nearly exhausted by the hurry of her spirits. Her fingerslikewise were benumbed with the cold. She performed her task, underthese disadvantages, with much difficulty. This was the purport of herletter:--
"THOMAS CRAIG,
"An hour ago I was in Second Street, and saw you. I followed you till you entered the Indian Queen Tavern. Knowing where you are, I am now preparing to demand an interview. I may he disappointed in this hope, and therefore write you this.
"I do not come to upbraid you, to call you to a legal, or any other account for your actions. I presume not to weigh your merits. The God of equity be your judge. May he be as merciful in the hour of retribution as I am disposed to be!
"It is only to inform you that my father is on the point of perishing with want. You know who it was that reduced him to this condition. I persuade myself I shall not appeal to your justice in vain. Learn of this justice to afford him instant succour.
"You know who it was that took you in, an houseless wanderer, protected and fostered your youth, and shared with you his confidence and his fortune. It is he who now, blind and indigent, is threatened by an inexorable landlord to be thrust into the street, and who is, at this moment without fire and without bread.
"He once did you some little service; now he looks to be compensated. All the retribution he asks is to be saved from perishing. Surely you will not spurn at his claims. Thomas Craig has done nothing that shows him deaf to the cries of distress. He would relieve a dog from such sufferings.
"Forget that you have known my father in any character but that of a supplicant for bread. I promise you that on this condition I also will forget it. If you are so far just, you have nothing to fear. Your property and reputation shall both be safe. My father knows not of your being in this city. His enmities are extinct, and if you comply with this request, he shall know you only as a benefactor.
"C. DUDLEY."
Having finished and folded this epistle, she once more returned to thetavern. A waiter informed her that Craig had lately been in, and was nowgone out to spend the evening. "Whither had he gone?" she asked.
"How was he to know where gentlemen eat their suppers? Did she take himfor a witch? What, in God's name, did she want with him at that hour?Could she not wait, at least, till he had done his supper? He warrantedher pretty face would bring him home time enough."
Constantia was not disconcerted at the address. She knew that femalesare subjected, through their own ignorance and cowardice, to a thousandmortifications. She set its true value on base and low-minded treatment.She disdained to notice this ribaldry, but turned away from the servantto meditate on this disappointment.
A few moments after, a young fellow smartly dressed entered theapartment. He was immediately addressed by the other, who said to him,"Well, Tom, where's your master: there's a lady wants him," (pointing toConstantia, and laying a grinning emphasis on the word "lady".) Sheturned to the new-comer: "Friend, are you Mr. Craig's servant?"
The fellow seemed somewhat irritated at the bluntness of herinterrogatory. The appellation of servant sat uneasily, perhaps, on hispride, especially as coming from a person of her appearance. He put onan air of familiar ridicule, and surveyed her in silence. She resumed,in an authoritative tone:--"Where does Mr. Craig spend this evening? Ihave business with him of the highest importance, and that will not beardelay. I must see him this night." He seemed preparing to make someimpertinent answer, but she anticipated it: "You had better answer mewith decency. If you do not, your master shall hear of it."
This menace was not ineffectual. He began in perceive himself in thewrong, and surlily muttered, "Why, if you must know, he is gone to Mr.Ormond's." And where lived Mr. Ormond? In Arch Street; he mentioned thenumber on her questioning him to that effect.
Being furnished with this information, she left them. Her project wasnot to be thwarted by slight impediments, and she forthwith proceeded toOrmond's dwelling. "Who was this Ormond?" she inquired of herself as shewent along: "whence originated and of what nature is the connectionbetween him and Craig? Are they united by unison of designs and sympathyof character, or is this stranger a new subject on whom Craig ispractising his arts? The last supposition is not impossible. Is it notmy duty to disconcert his machinations and save a new victim from histreachery? But I ought to be sure before I act. He may now be honest, ortending to honesty, and my interference may cast him backward, orimpede his progress."
The house to which she had been directed was spacious and magnificent.She was answered by a servant, whose uniform was extremely singular andfanciful, whose features and accents bespoke him to be English, with apoliteness to which she knew that the simplicity of her dress gave herno title. Craig, he told her, was in the drawing-room above stairs. Heoffered to carry him any message, and ushered her, meanwhile, into aparlour. She was surprised at the splendour of the room. The ceiling waspainted with a gay design, the walls stuccoed in relief, and the floorcovered with a Persian carpet, with suitable accompaniments of mirrors,tables, and sofas.
Craig had been seated at the window above. His suspicions were ever onthe watch. He suddenly espied a figure and face on the opposite side ofthe street, which an alteration of garb and the improvements of timecould not conceal from his knowledge. He was startled at this incident,without knowing the extent of its consequences. He saw her cross the wayopposite this house, and immediately after heard the bell ring. Still hewas not aware that he himself was the object of this visit, and waitedwith some degree of impatience for the issue of this adventure.
Presently he was summoned to a person below, who wished to see him. Theservant shut the door as soon as he had delivered the message andretired.
Craig was thrown into considerable perplexity. It was seldom that he waswanting in presence of mind and dexterity, but the unexpectedness ofthis incident made him pause. He had not forgotten the awful charms ofhis summoner. He shrunk at the imagination of her rebukes. What purposecould be answered by admitting her? It was undoubtedly safest to keepat a distance; but what excuse should be given for refusing thisinterview? He was roused from his reverie by a second and more urgentsummons. The person could not conveniently wait; her business was of theutmost moment, and would detain him but a few minutes.
The anxiety which was thus expressed to see him only augmented hissolicitude to remain invisible. He had papers before him, which he hadbeen employed in examining. This suggested an excuse--"Tell her that Iam engaged just now, and cannot possibly attend to her. Let her leaveher business. If she has any message, you may bring it to me."
It was plain to Constantia that Craig suspected the purpose of hervisit. This might have come to his knowledge by means impossible for herto divine. She now perceived the wisdom of the precaution she had taken.She gave her letter to the servant with this message:--"Tell him Ishall wait here for an answer, and continue to wait till I receive one."
Her mind was powerfully affected by the criticalness of her situation.She had gone thus far, and saw the necessity of persisting to the end.The goal was within view, and she formed a sort of desperatedeterminatio
n not to relinquish the pursuit. She could not overlook thepossibility that he might return no answer, or return an unsatisfactoryone. In either case, she was resolved to remain in the house till drivenfrom it by violence. What other resolution could she form? To return toher desolate home, pennyless, was an idea not to be endured.
The letter was received, and perused. His conscience was touched, butcompunction was a guest whose importunities he had acquired a peculiarfacility of eluding. Here was a liberal offer. A price was set upon hisimpunity. A small sum, perhaps, would secure him from all futuremolestation.--"She spoke, to-be-sure, in a damned high tone. 'Twas apity that the old man should be hungry before supper-time. Blind too!Harder still, when he cannot find his way to his mouth. Rent unpaid, anda flinty-hearted landlord. A pretty pickle, to-be-sure. Instant payment,she says. Won't part without it. Must come down with the stuff. I knowthis girl. When her heart is once set upon a thing, all the devils willnot turn her out of her way. She promises silence. I can't pretend tobargain with her. I'd as lief be ducked, as meet her face to face. Iknow she'll do what she promises: that was always her grand failing. Howthe little witch talks! Just the dreamer she ever was! Justice!Compassion! Stupid fool! One would think she'd learned something of theworld by this time."
He took out his pocket-book. Among the notes it contained the lowest wasfifty dollars. This was too much, yet there was no alternative;something must be given. She had detected his abode, and he knew it wasin the power of the Dudleys to ruin his reputation, and obstruct hispresent schemes. It was probable that, if they should exert themselves,their cause would find advocates and patrons. Still the gratuitous giftof fifty dollars sat uneasily upon his avarice. One idea occurred toreconcile him to the gift. There was a method he conceived of procuringthe repayment of it with interest: he enclosed the note in a blank pieceof paper, and sent it to her.
She received the paper, and opened it with trembling fingers: when shesaw what were its contents, her feelings amounted to rapture. A sum likethis was affluence to her in her present condition; at least it wouldpurchase present comfort and security. Her heart glowed with exultation,and she seemed to tread with the lightness of air as she hied homeward.The languor of a long fast, the numbness of the cold, were forgotten.It is worthy of remark how much of human accommodation was comprisedwithin this small compass; and how sudden was this transition from theverge of destruction to the summit of security.
Her first business was to call upon her landlord, and pay him hisdemand. On her return she discharged the little debts she had beenobliged to contract, and purchased what was immediately necessary. Woodshe could borrow from her next neighbour, and this she was willing todo, now that she had the prospect of repaying it.
END OF VOL. I.
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