SOCIABLE VISITING.
"Shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it."--ADDISON.
After a residence of several years at their country-house in thevicinity of Philadelphia, circumstances induced Mr. Heathcote toestablish himself again in the city. This removal gave greatsatisfaction to his family, particularly to his wife and to his twoelder children, Harriet and Albert, as they all had very good reasonsfor preferring a decided town-life to the numerous conveniences ofruralizing at a villa both in winter and summer. They were called on indue time by all their former city friends; most of whom, indeed, hadsedulously kept up their acquaintance with the Heathcote family byfrequent visits to them during their long sojourn in the country.
By all these friends, the Heathcotes were invited to tea in form,sometimes to large parties, sometimes to small parties, and sometimes tomeet only the family circle. And Mrs. Heathcote had made a return forthese civilities by giving an evening party, which included the wholerange of her friends and acquaintances, while her husband got rid of hissimilar obligations by a series of dinners.
These duties being over, and the family settled quietly down intoevery-day life, the invitations for particular times became lessfrequent; gradually subsiding into pressing entreaties from theirfriends to waive all formality, and to come sociably and take tea withthem whenever they felt an inclination, without waiting for the ceremonyof being regularly asked. These intimations were at once declined byMrs. Heathcote, who declared herself "no visitor," her large family (forshe had eight children) giving her always sufficient occupation athome. Such excuses, however, were not admitted from Harriet, who washandsome, lively, and intelligent, and much liked by all who knew her.She was fond of society, and had no objection to visiting in all itsbranches. Her days were generally passed in constant and rationalemployment, and though her evenings were pleasant enough at home, stillshe liked variety, and thought it would be very agreeable to visit herfriends occasionally on the terms proposed; and she anticipated muchquiet enjoyment at these extemporaneous tea-drinkings. We must premisethat the sociable visits performed by our heroine did not, in reality,all follow each other consecutively, though, for the sake of brevity, itis expedient for us to relate them in that manner. Between some of themwere long intervals, during which she, of course, received occasionalinvitations in regular form; and a due proportion of her evenings wasspent in places of public amusement. Our present design is merely togive a sketch of the events which ensued when Harriet Heathcote, takingher friends at their word, availed herself of their earnest entreatiesto visit them _sociably_: that is, without being either invited orexpected.
In compliance with the oft-repeated request of her old acquaintances,the two Miss Drakelows, to spend a long afternoon with them, comingearly and bringing her sewing, our heroine set out on this visit at fouro'clock, taking her work-basket in her hand. The Miss Drakelows, indeed,had urged her to come immediately after dinner, that they might have thelonger enjoyment of her company; and Harriet, for her part, liked themso well (for they were very agreeable girls), that she had noapprehension of finding the visit tedious.
On arriving at the house, the servant who opened the door informed herthat both the young ladies were out. Harriet, much disappointed, wasturning to go home again, when their mother, old Mrs. Drakelow, appearedat the door of the front parlour, and hastening forward, seized her byboth hands, and insisted on her coming in, saying that Ellen and Fannyhad only gone out shopping with Mrs. Eastwood (their married sister),and that she was in momentary expectation of their return. Harriet foundit so difficult to resist the entreaties of the old lady, who was alwaysdelighted to see visiters, that she yielded and accompanied her into theparlour.
"Well, my dear Miss Harriet," said Mrs. Drakelow, "I am really very gladthat you have come, at last, just as we wished you, without anyceremony. I always think a visit the more agreeable for beingunexpected. Do take off your cloak. My daughters will be at home in afew minutes, and I dare say they will bring Mrs. Eastwood with them, andthen we will make her stay to tea. We shall have a charming evening."
Miss Heathcote took out her work, and Mrs. Drakelow resumed herknitting, and endeavoured to entertain her guest by enumerating thoseamong her own acquaintances that persisted in using knitting-sheaths,and those that could knit just as well without them by holding theneedles in a different manner. She also discussed the relative merits ofribbed welts and rolled welts, and gave due honour to certainexpeditious ladies that could knit a pair of large stockings in threedays; and higher glory still to several that had been known to performthat exploit in _two_ days.
In truth, the old lady was one of those dull wearisome people, that areonly tolerated because they are good and respectable. She had noreading; no observation, except of trifles not worth observing; nomemory, but of things not worth remembering, and her ideas, which werevery limited in number, had all her life flowed in the same channel.Still, Mrs. Drakelow thought herself a very sensible woman, and believedthat her conversation could not be otherwise than agreeable; andtherefore, whenever she had an opportunity, she talked almostincessantly. It is true, that when her daughters were present, she wascontent to be comparatively silent, as she regarded them with greatdeference, and listened to them always with habitual admiration.
Evening came, and the young ladies did not return; though Mrs. Drakelowwas still expecting them every moment. Finally, she concluded that Mrs.Eastwood had prevailed on them to go home and take tea with her. "Somuch the better for me," said Mrs. Drakelow, "for now, my dear MissHarriet, I shall have you all to myself." She then ordered tea to bebrought immediately, and Harriet saw nothing in prospect but a long,tedious evening with the prosing old lady; and she knew that it would beat least nine o'clock, or perhaps ten, before her brother came to seeher home.
The evening, as she anticipated, was indeed tedious. Mrs. Drakelow tookupon herself "the whole expense of the conversation," talked of cheapshops and dear shops, and specified the prices that had been given foralmost every article of dress that had been purchased by her daughtersor herself during the last year. She told a long story of a piece oflinen which her friend Mrs. Willett had bought for her husband, andwhich went to pieces before it was made up, splitting down in streaksduring the process of stroking the gathers. She told the rent that wasgiven by all her acquaintances that lived in rented houses, and theprecise price paid by those that had purchased their dwellings. Shedescribed minutely the particulars of several long illnesses that hadtaken place among her relations and friends; and the exact number ofpersons that attended their funerals when they died, as on thoseoccasions she said she made it a rule always to count the company. Shementioned several circumstances which proved to demonstration, that theweather was usually cold in winter and warm in summer; and she gave acircumstantial history of her four last cats, with suitable episodes ofrats and mice.
The old lady's garrulity was so incessant, her tone so monotonous, andher narratives so totally devoid of either point or interest, that MissHeathcote caught herself several times on the verge of falling asleep.She frequently stole anxious glances at the time-piece, and when it wasnine o'clock she roused herself by the excitement of hoping every momentfor the arrival of Albert.
At length she heard the agreeable sound of the door-bell, but it wasonly a shoemaker's boy that had brought home a pair of new shoes forMrs. Drakelow, who tried them on, and talked about them for half anhour, telling various stories of tight shoes and loose shoes, long shoesand short shoes. Finally, Albert Heathcote made his welcome appearance,and Harriet joyfully prepared for her departure; though the old ladyentreated her "to sit awhile longer, and not to take away her brother sosoon."
"You cannot imagine," said Mrs. Drakelow, "how disappointed the girlswill feel, at happening to be from home on this afternoon above allothers. If they had had the most distant idea of a visit from youto-day, they would, I am sure, have either deferred their shopping, ormade it as short as possible. But do not be discouraged, my dear MissHarriet,"
continued the good old lady, "I hope you will very soon favourus with another sociable visit. I really do not know when I have passedso pleasant an evening. It has seemed to me not more than half an hoursince tea."
About a fortnight afterwards, Miss Heathcote went to take tea, sociably,with her friend Mrs. Rushbrook, who had been married about eighteenmonths, and whom she had known intimately for many years. This time, shewent quite late, and was glad to be informed that Mrs. Rushbrook was athome. She was shown into the parlour, where she waited till long afterthe lamp was lighted, in momentary expectation of the appearance of herfriend, who had sent down word that she would be with her in a fewminutes. Occasionally, whenever the nursery door was opened, Harrietheard violent screams of the baby.
At length Mrs. Rushbrook came down, apologized to Miss Heathcote formaking her wait, and said that poor little George was very unwell, andhad been fretful and feverish all day; and that he had just been got tosleep with much difficulty, having cried incessantly for more than anhour. Harriet now regretted having chosen this day for her visit (thebaby being so much indisposed), and she offered to conclude itimmediately, only requesting that the servant-man might see her home, asit had long been quite dark. But Mrs. Rushbrook would not listen toHarriet's proposal of going away so soon, and insisted on her staying totea as she had intended; saying that she had no doubt the baby would bemuch better when he awoke. At her pressing instances, Miss Heathcoteconcluded to remain. In a short time Mr. Rushbrook came home, and hiswife detailed to him all the particulars of the baby's illness. Harriet,who was accustomed to children, saw that in all probability thecomplaint would be attended with no serious consequences. But youngmarried people are very naturally prone to take alarm at the slightestailment of their first child: a feeling which no one should censure,however far it may be carried, as it originates in the best affectionsof the human heart.
Though Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook tried to entertain their visitor, and tolisten to her when she talked, Harriet could not but perceive that theirminds were all the time with the infant up-stairs; and they frequentlycalled each other out of the room to consult about him.
After tea, the baby awoke and renewed its screams, and Mr. Rushbrookdetermined to go himself for the doctor, who had already been broughtthither three times that day. Finding that it was a physician who livedin her immediate neighbourhood, Harriet wisely concluded to shorten herunlucky visit by availing herself of Mr. Rushbrook's protection to herown door. Mrs. Rushbrook took leave of our heroine with much civility,but with very evident satisfaction, and said to her at parting, "Totell you the truth, my dear Harriet, if I had known that you designed methe pleasure of a visit this evening, I would have candidly requestedyou to defer it till another time, as poor little George has been unwellsince early in the morning."
Harriet's next sociable visit was to the two Miss Brandons, who hadalways appeared to her as very charming girls, and remarkable for theiraffectionate manner towards each other. Being left in affluentcircumstances at the decease of their father (the mother died while theywere children), Letitia and Charlotte Brandon lived together in a verygenteel establishment, under the protection of an unmarried brother, whowas just now absent on business in the West. Harriet had always imaginedthem in possession of an unusual portion of happiness, for they wereyoung, handsome, rich, at their own disposal, with no one to controlthem, and, as she supposed, nothing to trouble them. She did not know,or rather she did not believe (for she had heard some whispers of thefact), that in reality the Miss Brandons lived half their time at openwar; both having tempers that were very irritable, and also veryimplacable, for it is not true that the more easily anger is excited,the sooner it subsides. It so happened, however, that Miss Heathcote hadonly seen these young ladies during their occasional fits ofgood-humour, when they were at peace with each other, and with all theworld; and at such times no women could possibly be more amiable.
On the morning before Harriet Heathcote's visit, a violent quarrel hadtaken place between the two sisters, and therefore they were not onspeaking terms, nor likely to be so in less than a fortnight; that beingthe period they generally required to smooth down their angry passions,before they could find it in their hearts to resume the usual routine ofeven common civility. There was this difference in the two ladies:Charlotte was the most passionate, Letitia the most rancorous.
When Harriet arrived, she found the Miss Brandons alone in the backparlour, sitting at opposite sides of the fire, with each a book.Charlotte, who was just the age of Harriet, looked pleased at the sightof a visiter, whose company she thought would be preferable to thealternative of passing the evening with her sister in utter silence; andshe had some faint hope that the presence of Miss Heathcote mightperhaps induce Letitia to make some little exertion to conceal herill-humour. And therefore Charlotte expressed great pleasure when shefound that Harriet had come to spend the evening with them. But Letitia,after a very cold salutation, immediately rose and left the room, withan air that showed plainly she did not intend to consider Miss Heathcoteas in part her visiter, but exclusively as her sister Charlotte's.
Charlotte followed Letitia with her eyes, and looked very angry, butafter a few moments, she smothered her resentment so far as to attempt asort of apology, saying, "she believed her sister had the headache." Shethen commenced a conversation with Harriet, who endeavoured to keep itup with her usual vivacity; but was disconcerted to find that Charlottewas too uncomfortable, and her mind evidently too much abstracted,either to listen attentively, or to take the least interest in anythingshe said.
In a short time the table was set, and Charlotte desired the servant togo up-stairs and ask Miss Letitia if she was coming down to tea, or ifshe should send her some. The man departed, and was gone a long while.When he returned--"Is Miss Letitia coming down to tea?" asked Charlotteanxiously; "Miss Letitia don't say," replied the man. Charlotte bit herlip in vexation, and then with something that resembled a sigh, invitedHarriet to take her seat at the table, and began to pour out. When teawas about half over, Letitia made her appearance, walking with greatdignity, and looking very cross. She sat down in silence, opposite toHarriet. "Sister," said Charlotte, in a voice of half-suppressed anger,"shall I give you black tea or green? you know you sometimes take oneand sometimes the other." "I'll help myself," replied Letitia, in avoice of chilling coldness. And taking up one of the tea-pots sheproceeded to do so. As soon as she put the cup to her lips, she set itdown again with apparent disgust, saying--"This tea is not fit todrink." Charlotte, making a visible effort to restrain herself, placedthe other tea-pot within her sister's reach; Letitia poured out a fewdrops by way of trial, tasted it, then pushed it away with still greaterdisgust than before, and threw herself back in her chair, casting a lookof indignation at Charlotte, and murmuring,--"'Tis always so when I donot preside at the tea-table myself."
Charlotte sat swelling with anger, afraid to trust herself to speak,while Harriet, affecting not to notice what was passing, made an attemptto talk on some indifferent subject, and addressed to Letitia a fewwords which she did not answer, and handed her some waffles which shewould not take. Never had Harriet been present at so uncomfortable arepast, and heartily did she wish herself at home, regretting much thatshe had happened to pay a visit during this state of hostilities.
After the failure of both sorts of tea, Letitia sat in silentindignation till the table was cleared, leaning back in her chair,eating nothing, but crumbling a piece of bread to atoms, andpertinaciously averting her head both from Charlotte and Harriet.
When tea was over, Harriet hoped that Letitia would retire to her ownroom, but on the contrary the lady was perversely bent on staying in theparlour. Charlotte and Harriet placed themselves at the sofa-table withtheir sewing, and Letitia desired the servant-man to bring her one ofthe new table-cloths that had been sent home that morning. Then makinghim light a lamp that stood in the corner of the mantel-piece, sheseated herself under it on a low chair, and commenced silently andsedulously the task of ravell
ing or fringing the ends of thetable-cloth, while Charlotte looked at her from time to time withill-suppressed resentment. Now and then, Harriet, in the hope ofconciliating Letitia into something like common civility, addressed afew words to her in as pleasant a manner as possible, but Letitiareplied only by a cold monosyllable, and finally made no answer at all.Charlotte was too angry at her sister to be able to sustain anythingthat could be called a conversation with Miss Heathcote, and Harriet,rather than say nothing, began to describe a very entertaining new novelthat had lately appeared, relating with great vivacity some of its mostamusing scenes. But she soon found that Charlotte was too much out ofhumour with her sister to be able to give much attention to thenarrative, and that her replies and comments were _distrait_ and_mal-a-propos_.
Letitia sat coldly fringing the table-cloth, and showing no sort ofemotion, except that she threw the ravellings into the fire with rathermore energy than was necessary, and occasionally jogged the foot thatrested on a cushion before her; and she resolutely refused to partake ofthe refreshments that were brought in after tea.
Miss Heathcote sat in momentary dread of an explosion, as she saw thatthe angry glances of Charlotte towards the lady fringing thetable-cloth, were becoming more frequent and more vivid, that her colourwas heightening, and the tremor of her voice increasing. Our heroine washeartily glad of the arrival of her brother about nine o'clock, an hourearlier than she expected him. He explained, in a few words, that beingdesirous of returning to the theatre to see a favourite after-piece, hehad thought it best to come for his sister as soon as the play was over,rather than keep her waiting for him till near eleven, before which timeit was not probable that the whole entertainment would be finished.Charlotte, who was evidently impatient for an outbreak, saw MissHeathcote depart with visible satisfaction, and Letitia merely bowed herhead to the adieu of our heroine, who, vexed at herself for havingvolunteered her visit on this ill-omened day, felt it a relief to quitthe presence of these unamiable sisters, and "leave them alone in theirglory."
The black girl that had brought down her hood and cloak, ran forward toopen the street door, and said in a low voice to Harriet, "I suppose,miss, you did not know before you came, that our ladies had a highquarrel this morning, and are affronted, and don't speak. But I dare saythey will come to, in the course of a few weeks, and then I hope you'llpay us another visit, for company's _scace_."
When Harriet equipped herself to pass a _sociable_ evening with theUrlingford family, who were among the most agreeable of her friends, shecould not possibly anticipate any _contre-tems_ that would mar thepleasure of the visit. She arrived about dusk, and was somewhatsurprised to find the whole family already at their tea. Mrs. Urlingfordand the young ladies received her very cordially, but looked a littledisconcerted, and Harriet apologized for interrupting them at table, bysaying, that she thought their tea-hour was not till seven o'clock.
Mrs. Urlingford replied, that seven o'clock _was_ their usual hour fortea, but on that evening they had it much earlier than usual, that itmight be over before the arrival of some of their musical friends, whowere coming to practise with her daughters.
"Really, my dear Harriet," pursued Mrs. Urlingford, "I am rejoiced thatyou happened to fix on this evening for favouring us with anunceremonious visit. Though I know that you always decline playing andsinging in company, and that you persist in saying you have very littleknowledge of music, yet I think too highly of your taste and feeling notto be convinced of your fondness for that delightful art, and I amcertain you will be much gratified by what you will hear to-night,though this is only a private practising; indeed a mere rehearsal. Nextweek we will have a general music-party, the first of a series which wehave arranged to take place at intervals of a fortnight, and to which weintend ourselves the pleasure of sending invitations to you and all ourother friends. This, of to-night, is, I repeat, nothing more than arehearsal, and we expect only a few professional musicians, whoseassistance we have secured for our regular musical soirees. I am veryglad, indeed, my dear Harriet, that you chance to be with us thisevening. As I said, we have tea earlier than usual, that the music maybegin the sooner, and at ten o'clock we will have coffee and otherrefreshments handed round."
By this time, the table was newly set, fresh tea was made, and someadditional nice things were produced. Harriet, who was very sorry forhaving caused any unnecessary trouble, sat down to her tea, which shedespatched in all possible haste, as she knew that Mrs. Urlingford mustbe impatient to have the table cleared away, previous to the arrival ofthe musicians, who were now momentarily expected. Just as Harriet wasfinishing, there came in a German that played on the violon-cello, andwas always very early. On being asked if he had taken tea, he replied inthe affirmative, but that he would have no objection to a little more.Accordingly he sat down and made a long and hearty meal, to the evidentannoyance of the family, and still more to that of Harriet Heathcote,who knew that the table would long since have been removed, had it notbeen detained on her account. There was nothing now to be done, but toclose the folding-doors, and shut in the German till he had completedhis repast, as others of the company were fast arriving. And thoughHarriet had been told that this was merely a private practising, shesoon found herself in the midst of something that very much resembled alarge party; so many persons having been invited exclusive of theregular performers. She understood, however, that nobody had been askedto this rehearsal, who had not a decided taste for music.
Our heroine, for her part, had no extraordinary talent for thatdifficult and elegant accomplishment; and, after taking lessons forabout a year, it was considered best that she should give it up, as hervoice was of no great compass, and there was little probability of herreaching any proficiency, as an instrumental musician, that wouldcompensate for an undue expense of time, money, and application.Therefore, Harriet had never advanced beyond simple ballads, which sheplayed and sang agreeably and correctly enough, but which she onlyattempted when her audience consisted exclusively of her own family; andnone of her brothers and sisters had as yet shown any taste for thatsort of music which is commonly called scientific.
The Urlingfords, on the contrary, could all sing and play; the girls onthe harp, piano, and guitar; and the boys on the flute, and violin. Theyall had voices of great power, and sung nothing but Italian.
The evening was passed in the performance of pieces that exhibited muchscience, and much difficulty of execution: such pieces, in short, as Dr.Johnson wished were "impossible." Being totally at variance with thesimplicity of Harriet's taste, she found them very uninteresting, andinconceivably fatiguing, and after a while she had great difficulty inkeeping herself awake. Of course, not a word was uttered during theperformance, and the concertos, potpourris, arias, and cavatinassucceeded each other so rapidly that there was no interval in which tosnatch a few moments of conversation. It is true the purport of themeeting was music, and music alone.
Miss Heathcote almost envied a young lady, who, having learnt all hermusic in Europe, had come home with an enthusiasm for feats of voice andfinger, that on all these occasions transported her into the thirdheaven. She sat with her neck stretched forward, and her handsout-spread, her lips half open, her eyes sometimes raised as in ecstasy,and sometimes closed in overpowering bliss. But Harriet's envy of suchexquisite sensations was a little checked, when she observed Miss Denhamstealing a sly glance all round, to see who was looking at her, andadmiring her enthusiasm. And then Harriet could not help thinking howvery painful it must be (when only done for effect) to keep up such anair and attitude of admiration during a whole long evening.
Our heroine was also much entertained in the early part of theperformance, particularly during a grand concerto, by observing themusician who officiated as leader, and was a foreigner of great skill inhis profession. In him there was certainly no affectation. To have thepiece performed in the most perfect manner, was "the settled purpose ofhis soul." All the energies of his mind and body were absorbed in thisone object, and he seemed as
if the whole happiness of his future life,nay, his existence itself, depended on its success. The piece wasproceeding in its full tide of glory, and the leader was waving his bowwith more pride and satisfaction than a monarch ever felt in wieldinghis sceptre, or a triumphant warrior in brandishing his sword. Suddenlyhe gave "a look of horror and a sudden start," and turning instantlyround, his eyes glared fiercely over the whole circle of performers insearch of the culprit who had been guilty of a false note; an errorwhich would scarcely have been noticed by any of the company, had it notbeen made so conspicuous by the shock it had given to the chiefmusician. The criminal, however, was only discovered by hisinjudiciously "hiding his diminished head." Better for him to have been"a fine, gay, bold-faced villain."
Harriet could not help remarking that though the company all applaudedevery song that was sung, and every piece that was played, and that atthe conclusion of each, the words "charming," "exquisite," "divine,"were murmured round the room, still almost every one looked tired, manywere evidently suppressing their inclination to yawn--some tookopportunities of looking privately at their watches; and Mr. Urlingfordand another old gentleman slept a duet together in a corner. Theentrance of the coffee, &c., produced a wonderful revival, and restoredanimation to eyes that seemed ready to close in slumber. The company allstarted from the listless postures into which they had unconsciouslythrown themselves, and every one sat up straight. As soon as she haddrunk a cup of the refreshing beverage, Miss Heathcote was glad to availherself of her brother's arrival and take her leave; Mrs. Urlingford,congratulating her again on having been so fortunate as to drop inexactly on that evening, and telling her that she should certainlyexpect her at all her musical parties throughout the season.
And Harriet might perhaps have gone to the first one, had she not beenso unluckily present at the rehearsal.
On the next uninvited visit of our heroine, she found her friends, thethree Miss Celbridges, sitting in the parlour with their mother, by noother light than that of the fire, and all looking extremely dejected.On inquiring if they were well, they answered in the affirmative. Hernext question was to ask when they had heard from Baltimore, in whichplace some of their nearest relations were settled. The reply was, thatthey had received letters that morning, and that their friends were ingood health. "Well, girls," said Harriet, gayly, "you see I have takenyou at your word, and have come to pass the evening with you _sansceremonie_."
The Miss Celbridges exchanged looks with their mother, who cast down hereyes and said nothing; and one of the young ladies silently assistedHarriet in taking off her walking habiliments. There was an air ofgeneral constraint, and our heroine began to fear that her visit was notquite acceptable. "Is it possible," thought she, "that I couldunconsciously have given any offence at our last meeting?" But sherecollected immediately, that the Miss Celbridges had then taken leaveof her with the most unequivocal evidences of cordiality, and hadearnestly insisted on her coming to drink tea with them, as often as shefelt a desire, assuring her that they should always be delighted to seeher "in a sociable way."
The young ladies made an effort at conversation, but it was visibly aneffort. The minds of the Miss Celbridges were all palpably engrossedwith something quite foreign to the topic of discussion, and Harriet wastoo much surprised, and too much embarrassed to talk with her usualfluency.
At length Mr. Celbridge entered the room, and after slightly salutingMiss Heathcote, asked why the lamp was not lighted. It was done--andHarriet then perceived by the redness of their eyes, that the mother anddaughters had all been in tears. Mr. Celbridge looked also verymelancholy, and seating himself beside his wife, he entered into a lowand earnest conversation with her. Mrs. Celbridge held her handkerchiefto her face, and Harriet could no longer refrain from inquiring if thefamily had been visited by any unexpected misfortune. There was a pause,during which the daughters evidently struggled to command theirfeelings, and Mr. Celbridge, after a few moments' hesitation, replied ina tremulous voice: "Perhaps, Miss Heathcote, you know not that to-day Ihave become a bankrupt; that the unexpected failure of a house for whichI had endorsed to a large amount, has deprived me of the earnings oftwenty years, and reduced me to indigence."
Harriet was much shocked, and expressed her entire ignorance of thefact. "We supposed," said Mrs. Celbridge, "that it must have been knownuniversally--and such reports always spread with too much rapidity.""Surely," replied Harriet, taking the hand of Mrs. Celbridge, "youcannot seriously believe that it was known to _me_. The slightestintimation of this unfortunate event, would certainly have deterred mefrom interrupting you with my presence at a time when the company of avisitor must be so painfully irksome to the whole family."
She then rose, and said that if Mr. Celbridge would have the kindness toaccompany her to her own door, she would immediately go home. "I willnot dissemble, my dear Miss Heathcote," replied Mrs. Celbridge, "andurge you to remain, when it must be evident to you that none of us arein a state to make your visit agreeable to you, or indeed to derivepleasure from it ourselves. After the first shock is over, we shall beable, I hope, to look on our reverse of fortune with something likecomposure. And when we are settled in the humble habitation to which wemust soon remove, we shall be glad indeed to have our eveningsoccasionally enlivened by the society of one whom we have always been sohappy to class among our friends."
Mr. Celbridge escorted Harriet to her own residence, which was only at ashort distance. She there found that her brother, having just heard ofthe failure, and knowing that she intended spending the evening at Mr.Celbridge's, had sent her from his office a note to prevent her going,but it had not arrived till after her departure.
Among Miss Heathcote's acquaintances was Mrs. Accleton, a very younglady recently married, who on receiving her bridal-visits, had given outthat she intended to live economically, and not to indulge in anyunnecessary expense. She emphatically proclaimed her resolution never togive a party; but she did not even insinuate that she would never go toa party herself. She also declared that it did not comport with herplans (young girls when just married are apt to talk much of theirplans) to have any regularly invited company; but that it would alwaysafford her the greatest possible pleasure to see her friends _sociably_,if they would come and take tea with her, whenever it was convenient tothemselves, and without waiting for her to appoint any particular time."My husband and I," said Mrs. Accleton, "intend spending all ourevenings at home, so there is no risk of ever finding us out. We are toohappy in each other to seek for amusement abroad; and we find byexperience that nothing the world can offer is equal to our own domesticfelicity, varied occasionally by the delightful surprise of anunceremonious visit from an intimate friend."
It was not till after the most urgent entreaties, often reiterated, thatHarriet Heathcote undertook one of these visits to Mrs. Accleton. Afterringing at the street-door till her patience was nearly exhausted, itwas opened by a sulky-looking white girl, who performed the office ofporteress with a very ill grace, hiding herself behind it because shewas not in full dress; and to Harriet's inquiry if Mrs. Accleton was athome, murmuring in a most repulsive tone that "she believed she was."
Our heroine was kept waiting a considerable time in a cold andcomfortless, though richly-furnished parlour, where the splendidcoal-grate exhibited no evidences of fire, but a mass of cindersblackening at the bottom. At length Mrs. Accleton made her appearance,fresh from the toilet, and apologized by saying, that expecting no onethat afternoon, she had ever since dinner been sitting up stairs in herwrapper. "About twelve o'clock," said she, "I always, when the weatheris fine, dress myself and have the front-parlour fire made up, in caseof morning-visiters. But after dinner, I usually put on a wrapper, andestablish myself in the dining-room for the remainder of the day. Myhusband and I have got into the habit of spending all our eveningsthere. It is a charmingly comfortable little room, and we think itscarcely worth while to keep up the parlour-fire just for our twoselves. However, I will have it replenished immediately. Excuse me fo
rone moment." She then left the room, and shortly returning, resumed herdiscourse.
"I determined," said she, "from the hour I first thought ofhousekeeping, that it should be my plan to have none but white servants.They are less wasteful than the blacks; less extravagant in theircooking; are satisfied to sit by smaller fires; and have fewer visiters.The chief difficulty with them is, that there are so many things theyare unwilling to do. Yesterday my cook left me quite suddenly, andto-day a little girl about fourteen, whom I hired last week as a waiter,was taken away by her mother; and I have just now been trying topersuade Sally, the chambermaid, to bring in the coal-scuttle and makeup the fire. But she has a great objection to doing anything in presenceof strangers, and I am rather afraid she will not come. And I do notmuch wonder at it, for Sally is a girl of a very respectable family. Shehas nothing of the servant about her."
"So much the worse," thought Harriet, "if she is obliged to get herliving in that capacity."
After a long uncomfortable pause, during which there were no signs ofSally, Mrs. Accleton involuntarily put her hand to the bell, butrecollecting herself, withdrew it again without pressing the spring."There would be no use," said she, "in ringing the bell, for Sally nevertakes the least notice of it. She is principled against it, and says shewill not be rung about the house like a negro. I have to indulge her inthis laudable feeling of self-respect, for in everything that isessential she is a most valuable girl, and irons my dresses beautifully,and does up my collars and pelerines to admiration."
So saying, Mrs. Accleton again left the parlour to have anotherexpostulation with Sally, who finally vouchsafed to bring in thecoal-scuttle, and flinging a few fresh coals on the top of the dyingembers (from which all power of ignition had too visibly fled), put upthe blower, and hurried out of the room. But the blower awakened noflame, and not a sound was heard to issue from behind its blank anddreary expanse. "I am afraid the fire is too far gone to be revivedwithout a regular clearing out of the grate," said Mrs. Accleton, "and Idoubt the possibility of prevailing on Sally to go through all that.Anthracite has certainly its disadvantages. Perhaps we had betteradjourn to the dining-room, where there has been a good fire the wholeday. If I had only known that you intended me the pleasure of thisvisit! However, I have no doubt you will find it very comfortable upstairs."
To the dining-room they accordingly went. It was a little narrowapartment over the kitchen, with a low ceiling and small windows lookingout on the dead wall of the next house, and furnished in the plainestand most economical manner. There was a little soap-stone grate thatheld about three quarts of coal, which, however, _was_ burning; a smallround table that answered for every purpose; half a dozenwooden-bottomed cane-coloured chairs; and a small settee to match,covered with a calico cushion, and calculated to hold but two people."This is just the size for my husband and myself," said Mrs. Accleton,as she placed herself on the settee. "We had it made on purpose. Willyou take a seat on it, Miss Harriet, or would you prefer a chair? Iexpect Mr. Accleton home in a few minutes." Harriet preferred a chair.
The conversation now turned on housekeeping, and the _nouvelle mariee_gave a circumstantial detail of her various plans, and expressed somesurprise that, notwithstanding the excellence of her system, she foundso much difficulty in getting servants to fall into it. "I have the mosttrouble with my cooks," pursued Mrs. Accleton. "I have had sixdifferent women in that capacity, though I have only been married twomonths. And I am sure Mr. Accleton and myself are by no means hard toplease. We live in the plainest way possible, and a very little issufficient for our table. Our meat is simply boiled or roasted, andoften we have nothing more than a beefsteak. We never have any sort ofdessert, considering all such things as extremely unwholesome." "What isthe reason," thought Harriet, "that so many young ladies, when they arefirst married, discover immediately that desserts are unwholesome;particularly if prepared and eaten in their own houses?"
Mrs. Accleton made frequent trips back and forward to the kitchen, andHarriet understood that tea was in agitation. Finally, Sally, lookingvery much out of humour, came and asked for the keys; and unlocking adwarf side-board that stood in one of the recesses, she got out thecommon tea-equipage and placed it on the table. "You see, Miss Harriet,we treat you quite _en famille_," said Mrs. Accleton. "We make nostranger of you. After tea, the parlour will doubtless be warm, and wewill go down thither." Harriet wondered if the anthracite was expectedto repent of its obstinacy, and take to burning of its own accord.
Mr. Accleton now came home, and his wife, after running to kiss him,exclaimed: "Oh! my dear, I am glad you are come! You can now entertainMiss Heathcote while I go down and pay some attention to the tea, forSally protests that she was not hired to cook, and, if the truth must betold, she is very busy ironing, and does not like to be taken off. Thisis our regular ironing-day, and one of my rules is never, on anyconsideration, to have it put off or passed over. Method is the soul ofhousekeeping."
Mr. Accleton was naturally taciturn, but he made a prodigious effort toentertain Harriet, and talked to her of the tariff.
It was near eight o'clock before Sally condescended to bring up the teaand its accompaniments, which were a plate containing four slices of thethinnest possible bread and butter, another with two slices of paletoast, and a third with two shapeless whitish cakes, of what compositionit was difficult to tell, but similar to those that are calledflap-jacks in Boston, slap-jacks in New York, and buckwheat cakes inPhiladelphia.[84] In the centre was a deep dish with a dozen smallstewed oysters floating in an ocean of liquor, as tasteless and insipidas dish-water. The tea also was tasteless, and for two reasons--first,that the Chinese herb had been apportioned in a very small quantity; andsecondly, that the kettle had not "come to a boil."
[Footnote 84: Query? Which epithet is the most elegant, flap or slap? Werather think "the flaps have it."]
"We give you tea in a very plain style," said Mrs. Accleton to Harriet;"you see we make no stranger of you, and that we treat you just as we doourselves. We know that simple food is always the most wholesome, andwhen our friends are so kind as to visit us, we have no desire to makethem sick by covering our table with dainties. It is one of my rulesnever to have a sweetcake or sweetmeat in the house. They are not only afoolish expense, but decidedly prejudicial to health."
The hot cakes being soon despatched, there was considerable waiting foranother supply. Mr. and Mrs. Accleton were at somewhat of a nonplus asto the most feasible means of procuring the attendance of Sally."Perhaps she will come if we knock on the floor," said Mrs. Accleton;"she _has_ done so sometimes." Mr. Accleton stamped on the floor, butSally came not. Harriet could not imagine why Sally's pride should beless hurt by coming to a knock on the floor than to a ring of the bell;but there is no accounting for tastes. Mr. Accleton stamped again, andmuch more loudly than before. "Now you have spoiled all," said his wife,fretfully; "Sally will never come now. She will be justly offended atyour stamping for her in that violent way. I much question if we see herface again to-night."
At last, after much canvassing, it was decided that Mr. Accleton shouldgo to the head of the stairs and venture to call Sally; his wifeenjoining him not to call too loudly, and to let his tone and manner beas mild as possible. This delicate business was successfullyaccomplished. Sally at last appeared with two more hot cakes, and Mrs.Accleton respectfully intimated to her that she wished her to return ina few minutes to clear away the table.
Mr. Accleton, who was a meek man, being sent down by his wife toreconnoitre the parlour fire, came back and reported that it was "deadout." "How very unlucky," said Mrs. Accleton, "that Miss Heathcoteshould happen to come just on this evening! Unlucky for herself, I mean,for we must always be delighted to see her. However, I am so fond ofthis snug little room, that for my own part I have no desire ever to sitin any other. My husband and I have passed so many pleasant hours init."
The ladies now resumed their sewing; Mrs. Accleton talked of her plans,and her economy, and Sally; and Mr. Accleton pored
over the newspaper asif he was learning it all by heart, even to the advertisements; whilehis wife, who had taken occasion to remark that the price of oil hadrisen considerably, managed two or three times to give the screw of theastral lamp a twist to the left, which so much diminished the light thatHarriet could scarcely see to thread her needle.
About an hour after tea, Mrs. Accleton called her husband to the otherend of the room, and a half-whispered consultation took place betweenthem, which ended in the disappearance of the gentleman. In a short timehe returned, and there was another consultation, in the course of whichHarriet could not avoid distinguishing the words--"Sally refuses to quither clear-starching." "Well, dear, cannot I ask you just to do themyourself?" "Oh, no! indeed, it is quite out of the question; I wouldwillingly oblige you in anything else." "But, dear, only think how oftenyou have done this very thing when a boy." "But I am not a boy now.""Oh, but dear, you really must. There is no one else to do it. Come now,only a few, just a very few." There was a little more persuasion; thelady seemed to prevail, and the gentleman quitted the room. A short timeafter, there was heard a sound of cracking nuts, which Mrs. Accleton,consciously colouring, endeavoured to drown by talking as fast and asloudly as possible.
We have said that Mr. Accleton was a meek man. Having finished hisbusiness down-stairs, he came back looking red and foolish; and afterawhile Sally appeared with great displeasure in her countenance, and inher hands a waiter containing a plate of shellbarks, a pitcher of water,and some glasses. Mr. Accleton belonged to the temperance society, andtherefore, as his wife said, was principled against having in his house,either wine, or any other sort of liquor.
The arrival of Albert Heathcote put an end to this comfortless visit;and Mrs. Accleton on taking leave of Harriet, repeated, for thetwentieth time, her regret at not having had any previous intimation ofit.
Our heroine could not but wonder why marriage should so soon have havemade a change for the worse, in the lady with whom she had been passingthe evening, and whom she had known when Miss Maiden, as a lively,pleasant, agreeable girl, not remarkable for much mind, but in everyother respect the reverse of what she was now. Harriet had yet to learnthat marriage, particularly when it takes place at a very early age, andbefore the judgment of the lady has had time to ripen by intercoursewith the world, frequently produces a sad alteration in her habits andideas. As soon as she is emancipated from the control of her parents,and when "her market is made," and a partner secured for life, all herlatent faults and foibles are too prone to show themselves withoutdisguise, and she is likewise in much danger of acquiring new ones.Presuming upon her importance as a married lady, and also upon theindulgence with which husbands generally regard all the sayings anddoings of their wives in the _early_ days of matrimony, woman, as wellas man, is indeed too apt to "play fantastic tricks when dressed in alittle brief authority."
Next day, Harriet was surprised by a morning visit from Mrs. Accleton,who came in looking much discomposed, and, after the first salutations,said in a tone of some bitterness, "I have met with a great misfortune,Miss Heathcote. I have lost that most valuable servant, Sally. The poorgirl's pride was so deeply wounded at being obliged to bring in thewaiter before company (and as her family is so respectable, she ofcourse has a certain degree of proper pride), that she gave me noticethis morning of the utter impossibility of her remaining in the houseanother day. I tried in vain to pacify her, and I assured her that yourcoming to tea was entirely accidental, and that such a thing might neverhappen again. All I could urge had no effect on her, and she persistedin saying that she never could stay in any place after her feelings hadbeen hurt, and that she had concluded to live at home for the future,and take in sewing. So she quitted me at once, leaving me without acreature in the house, and I have been obliged to borrow mamma's Kittyfor the present. And I have nearly fatigued myself to death by walkingalmost to Schuylkill to inquire the character of a cook that I heard ofyesterday. As to a chambermaid, I never expect to find one that willreplace poor Sally. She was so perfectly clean, and she clear-starched,and plaited, and ironed so beautifully; and when I went to a party, shecould arrange my hair as well as a French barber, which was certainly agreat saving to me. Undoubtedly, Miss Heathcote, your company is alwayspleasant, and we certainly spent a delightful evening, but if I had hadthe least intimation that you intended me the honour of a visityesterday, I should have taken the liberty of requesting you to defer ittill I had provided myself with a cook and a waiter. Poor Sally--and tothink, too, that she had been ironing all day!"
Harriet was much vexed, and attempted an apology for her ill-timedvisit. She finally succeeded in somewhat mollifying the lady bypresenting her with some cake and wine as a refreshment after herfatigue, and Mrs. Accleton departed in rather a better humour, but stillthe burthen of her song was, "of course, Miss Heathcote, your visitsmust be always welcome--but it is certainly a sad thing to lose poorSally."
Our heroine's next attempt at a sociable visit was to her friend AmandaMilbourne, the eldest daughter of a large family. As soon as Harrietmade her entrance, the children, with all of whom she was a greatfavourite, gathered round, and informed her with delighted faces, thattheir father and mother were going to take them to the play. Harrietfeared that again her visit had been ill-timed, and offered to returnhome. "On the contrary," said Mrs. Milbourne, "nothing can be morefortunate, at least for Amanda, who has declined accompanying us to thetheatre, as her eyes are again out of order, and she is afraid of thelights. Therefore she will be extremely happy to have you spend theevening with her." "It is asking too much of Harriet's kindness," saidAmanda, "to expect her to pass a dull evening alone with me; I fear Ishall not be able to entertain her as I would wish. The place that wastaken for me at the theatre will be vacant, and I am sure it would giveyou all great pleasure if Harriet would accept of it, and accompany youthither." This invitation was eagerly urged by Mr. and Mrs. Milbourne,and loudly reiterated by all the children, but Harriet had been at thetheatre the preceding evening, the performances of to-night were exactlythe same, and she was one of those that think "nothing so tedious as atwice-seen play," that is, if all the parts are filled precisely asbefore.
Mrs. Milbourne then again felicitated Amanda on being so fortunate as tohave Miss Heathcote to pass the evening with her. "To say the truth,"said the good mother, "I could scarcely reconcile myself to the idea ofyour staying at home, particularly as your eyes will not allow you toread or to sew this evening, and you could have no resource but thepiano." Then turning to Harriet, she continued, "When her eyes arewell, it may be truly remarked of Amanda, that she is one of thosefortunate persons 'who are never less alone than when alone;' she oftensays so herself."
Accordingly Harriet was prevailed on to go through with her visit. Andas soon as tea was over, all the Milbourne family (with the exception ofAmanda) departed for the theatre.
Harriet produced her bead work, and endeavoured to be as amusing aspossible, but her friend seemed silent, abstracted, and not in the veinfor conversation, complaining at times of the pain in her eyes, which,however, looked as well as usual. Just after the departure of thefamily, Amanda stole softly to the front-door and put up the dead-latch,so that it could be opened from without. After that, she resumed herseat in the parlour, and appeared to be anxiously listening forsomething. The sound of footsteps was soon heard at the door, andpresently a handsome young gentleman walked in without having rung thebell, and as he entered the parlour, stopped short, and lookeddisconcerted at finding a stranger there. Amanda blushed deeply, butrose and introduced him as Captain Sedbury of the army. Harriet thenrecollected having heard a vague report of an officer being very much inlove with Miss Milbourne, and that her parents discountenanced hisaddresses, unwilling that the most beautiful and most accomplished oftheir daughters should marry a man who had no fortune but hiscommission.
The fact was, that Captain Sedbury, after an absence of several monthsat his station, had only arrived in town that morning, and finding meansto not
ify his mistress of his return, it had been arranged between themthat he should visit her in the evening, during the absence of thefamily, and for this purpose Amanda had excused herself from going tothe theatre. He took his seat beside Amanda, who contrived to give himher hand behind the backs of their chairs, and attempted some generalconversation, catching, at times, an opportunity of saying in a lowvoice a few words to the lady of his love, whose inclination wasevidently to talk to him only.
Harriet Heathcote now found herself in a very awkward situation. On thisoccasion she was palpably what the French call _Madame de Trop_, acharacter which is irksome beyond all endurance to the lady herself, ifshe is a person of proper consideration for the convenience of others.Though conscious that they were wishing her at least in Alabama, shefelt much sympathy for the lovers, as she had a favoured inamorato ofher own, who was now on his return from Canton. She talked, and theirreplies were tardy and _distrait_; she looked at them, and they weregazing at each other, and several times she found them earnestly engagedin a whisper. She felt as if on thorns, and became so nervous that sheactually got the headache. The dullness of Mrs. Drakelow, the sick babyof Mrs. Rushbrook, the feuds of the Miss Brandons, the failure of Mr.Celbridge, the music-practising of the Urlingfords, the maid Sally ofthe Accletons, had none of them at the time caused our heroine so muchannoyance as she felt on this evening, from the idea that she was soinconveniently interrupting the stolen interview of two affiancedlovers. At last she became too nervous to endure it any longer, andputting away her bead work, she expressed a desire to go home, pleadingher headache as an excuse. Captain Sedbury started up with alacrity, andoffered immediately to attend her. But Amanda, whose eyes had at firstsparkled with delight, suddenly changed countenance, and begged Harrietto stay, saying, "You expect your brother, do you not?"
"Certainly," replied Harriet, "but as the distance is short, I hope itwill be no great encroachment on Captain Sedbury's time. And then," sheadded with a smile, "he will of course return hither and finish hisvisit, after he has deposited me at my own door."
Amanda still hesitated. She recollected an instance of a friend of hershaving lost her lover in consequence of his escorting home a pretty girlthat made a "deadset" at him. And she was afraid to trust CaptainSedbury with so handsome a young lady as Miss Heathcote. Fortunately,however, Harriet removed this perplexity as soon as she guessed thecause. "Suppose," said she to Amanda, "that you were to accompany usyourself. It is a fine moonlight night, and I have no doubt the walkwill do you good, as you say you have not been out for several days."
To this proposal Amanda joyfully assented, and in a moment her face wasradiant with smiles. She ran up stairs for her walking equipments, andwas down so quickly that Harriet had not much chance of throwing out anyallurements in her absence, even if she had been so disposed. Thecaptain gave an arm to each of the ladies, and in a short time thelovers bade Miss Heathcote good night at the door of her father'smansion.
Harriet now comprehended why her friend Amanda "was never less alonethan when alone."
Three weeks afterwards, when Miss Milbourne and Captain Sedbury hadeffected a runaway marriage, and the parents had forgiven them accordingto custom, Amanda and her husband made themselves and Harriet very merryby good-humouredly telling her how much her accidental visit hadincommoded them, and how glad they were to get rid of her.
We have only to relate one more instance of Harriet Heathcote's sociablevisits. This was to her friends the Tanfields, a very charming family,consisting of a widow and her two daughters, whom she was certain offinding at home, because they were in deep mourning, and did not go outof an evening.
Harriet had been detained by a visiter, and it was nearly dark when shereached Mrs. Tanfield's door, and was told by the coloured man whoopened it, that all his ladies had set out that morning for New York,having heard that young Mr. Tanfield (who lived in that city) wasdangerously ill. Harriet was sorry that her friends should have receivedsuch painful intelligence, and for a few moments could think of nothingelse, for she knew young Tanfield to be one of the best of sons andbrothers. Her next consideration was how to get home, as there was nopossibility of staying at Mrs. Tanfield's. Her residence was at aconsiderable distance, and "the gloomy night was gathering fast." Shethought for a moment of asking Peters, the black man, to accompany her;but from the loud chattering and giggling that came up from the kitchen,(which seemed to be lighted with unusual brightness), and from havingnoticed, as she approached the house, that innumerable coloured peoplewere trooping down the area-steps, she rightly concluded that Mrs.Tanfield's servants had taken advantage of her absence to give a party,and that "high life below stairs" was at that moment performing.
Fearing that if she requested Peters to escort her, he would comply veryungraciously, or perhaps excuse himself, rather than be taken away fromhis company, Miss Heathcote concluded on essaying to walk home byherself, for the first time in her life, after lamplight. As she turnedfrom the door, (which Peters immediately closed) she lingered awhile onthe step, looking out upon the increasing gloom, and afraid to ventureinto it. However, as there seemed no alternative, she summoned all hercourage, and set off at a brisk pace. Her intention was to walk quietlyalong without showing the slightest apprehension, but she involuntarilyshrunk aside whenever she met any of the other sex. On suddenlyencountering a row of young men, arm in arm, with each a segar in hismouth, she came to a full stop, and actually shook with terror. They alllooked at her a moment, and then made way for her to pass, and she feltas if she could have plunged into the wall to avoid touching them.
Presently our heroine met three sailors reeling along, evidentlyintoxicated, and singing loudly. She kept as close as possible to thecurbstone, expecting nothing else than to be rudely accosted by them,but they were too intent upon their song to notice her; though one ofthem staggered against her, and pushed her off the pavement, so asalmost to throw her into the street.
Her way home lay directly in front of the Walnut Street Theatre, whichshe felt it impossible to pass, as the people were just crowding in. Andshe now blessed the plan of the city which enabled her to avoid thisinconvenience by "going round a square." The change of route took herinto a street comparatively silent and retired, and now her greatestfear was of being seized and robbed. She would have given the world tohave met any gentleman of her acquaintance, determining, if she did so,to request his protection home. At last she perceived one approaching,whose appearance she thought was familiar to her, and as they camewithin the light of a lamp, she found it to be Mr. Morland, an intimatefriend of her brother's. He looked at her with a scrutinizing glance, asif he half-recognised her features under the shade of her hood. PoorHarriet now felt ashamed and mortified that Mr. Morland should see heralone and unprotected, walking in the street after dark. She had notcourage to utter a word, but, drawing her hood more closely over herface, she glided hastily past him, and walked rapidly on. She had nosooner turned the corner of the street, than she regretted having obeyedthe impulse of the moment, lamenting her want of presence of mind, andreflecting how much better it would have been for her to have stoppedMr. Morland, and candidly explained to him her embarrassing situation.But it was now too late.
Presently there was a cry of fire, and the State House bell tolled outnorth-east, which was exactly the contrary direction from Mr.Heathcote's residence. Immediately an engine came thundering along thestreet, accompanied by a hose, and followed by several others, andHarriet found herself in the midst of the crowd and uproar, while thelight of the torches carried by the firemen glared full upon her. Butwhat had at first struck her with terror, she now perceived to be ratheran advantage than otherwise, for no one noticed her in the generalconfusion, and it set every one to running the same way. She found, asshe approached her father's dwelling, that there was no longer anydanger of her being molested by man or boy, all being gone to the fire,and the streets nearly deserted. Anxious to get home at all hazards, shecommenced running as fast as she could, and never stopped till
she foundherself at her own door.
The family were amazed and alarmed when they saw Harriet run into theparlour, pale, trembling, and almost breathless, and looking half deadas she threw herself on the sofa, unable to speak; and she did notrecover from her agitation, till she had relieved the hurry of herspirits by a flood of tears.
It was some minutes before Harriet was sufficiently composed to begin anexplanation of the events of the evening.
"It is true," said she, "that I have not been actually molested orinsulted, and I believe, after all, that in our orderly city there islittle real danger to be apprehended by females of respectableappearance, when reduced to the sad necessity of walking alone in theevening. But still the mere supposition, the bare possibility of beingthus exposed to the rudeness of the vulgar and unfeeling, will for everprevent me from again subjecting myself to so intolerable a situation. Iknow not what could induce me again to go through all I have sufferedsince I left Mrs. Tanfield's door.--And this will be my last attempt atsociable visiting."
* * * * *
We submit it to the opinion of our fair readers, whether, in nine casesout of ten, the visits of ladies do not "go off the better," ifanticipated by some previous intimation. We believe that our positionwill be borne out by the experience both of the visiters and thevisited. Our heroine, as we have seen, did not only, on most of theseoccasions, subject herself to much disappointment and annoyance, but shewas likewise the cause of considerable inconvenience to herentertainers; and we can say with truth, that the little incidents wehave selected "to point our moral and adorn our tale," are all sketchedfrom life and reality.