CHAPTER II.
At length the long-wished-for day arrived, and the young foreigner made herappearance in the family of Mr. Harewood. She was a fine, handsome-lookinggirl, and though younger in fact, was taller and older-looking than Ellen,but was not nearly so well shaped, as indolence, and the habit of beingcarried about instead of walking, had occasioned her to stoop, and to moveas if her limbs were too weak to support her.
The kindness and politeness with which she was received in the family ofMr. Harewood, did not appear to affect the Barbadoes girl in any otherway than to increase that self-importance which was evidently hercharacteristic; and even the mild, affectionate Ellen, who had predisposedher heart to love her very dearly, shrunk from the proud and haughtyexpression which frequently animated her features, and was surprised tohear her name her mamma with as much indifference as if she were a commonacquaintance; for Ellen did not know that the indulgence of bad passionshardens the heart, and renders it insensible to those sweet and tender tieswhich are felt by the good and amiable, and which constitute their highesthappiness.
In a very short time, it became apparent that passion and peevishness werealso the traits of this unfortunate child, who had been indulged in thefree exercise of a railing tongue, and even of a clawing hand, towardsthe numerous negro dependants that swarmed in her father's mansion, overwhom she had exercised all the despotic sovereignty of a queen, with thecapriciousness of a petted child, and thereby obtained a habit of tyrannyover all whom she deemed her inferiors, as appeared from the style in whichshe now conducted herself constantly towards the menials of Mr. Harewood'sfamily, and not unfrequently towards the superiors.
For a few days Mr. Harewood bore with this conduct, and only opposedit with gentleness and persuasion; but as it became evident that thisgentleness emboldened the mistaken child to proceed to greater rudeness, hecommenced a new style of treatment, and the English education of Matilda,so far as concerned that most important part of all education, themanagement of the temper, in the following manner:
On the family being seated at the dinner-table, Miss Hanson called out, ina loud and angry tone, "Give me some beer!"
Mr. Harewood had previously instructed the servant who waited upon them howto act, in case he was thus addressed; and in consequence of his master'scommands, the man took no notice whatever of this claim upon his attention.
"Give me some beer!" cried she again, in so fierce a manner that the boysstarted, and poor Ellen blushed very deeply, not only from the sense ofshame which she felt for the vulgarity of the young lady's manners, butfrom a kind of terror, on hearing such a shrill and threatening voice.
The servant still took no notice of her words, though he did not do it withan air of defiance, but rather as if it were not addressed to him.
The little angry child muttered, loud enough to be heard--"What a fool thewretch is!" but as nobody answered what was in fact addressed to no one,she was at length compelled to look for redress to Mrs. Harewood, whom,regarding with a mixture of rage and scorn, she now addressed--"Pray,ma'am, why don't _you_ tell the man to give me some beer? I suppose he'llunderstand _you_, though he seems a fool, and deaf."
"My children are accustomed to say--'Please, Thomas, give me some beer;'or, 'I'll thank you for a little beer;' and the loud rude manner in whichyou spoke, probably astonished and confused him. As, however, I certainlyunderstand you, I will endeavour to relieve you.--Pray, Thomas, be so kindas to give Miss Hanson some beer," said Mrs. Harewood.
Thomas instantly offered it; but the little girl cried out in a rage--"Iwon't have it--no! that I won't, from that man: I'll have my own negro towait--that I will!--Must I say _please_ to a servant? must a nasty man ina livery be _kind_ to me?--no! no! no! Zebby, Zebby, I say, come here!"
The poor black woman, hearing the loud tones of her young lady, to whichshe had been pretty well used, instantly ran into the room, before Mr.Harewood had time to prevent it, and very humbly cried out--"What doesMissy please wanty?"
"Some beer, you black beetle!"
"Is, Missy," said the poor woman, with a sigh, reaching the beer fromThomas with a trembling hand, as if she expected the glass to be thrownin her face.
Charles had with great difficulty refrained from laughter on the outset ofthis scene; but indignation now suffused his countenance. The young vixenwas an acute observer, and, had she not been cruelly neglected, might havebeen a sensible child. It instantly struck her, that his features disputedher right; and, determined not to endure this from any one, she instantlythrew the beer in the face of poor Zebby, saying--"There's that for _you_,madam."
It was not in the forbearance of the children to repress their feelings;even Edmund exclaimed--"What a brute!"
Ellen involuntarily started up, and hid her face in her mother's lap, whileCharles most good-naturedly offered his handkerchief to the aggrievedZebby, kindly condoling with her on her misfortune.
Mr. Harewood now, for the first time, spoke.--"Zebby," said he, in a calmbut stern tone, "it is my strict command, that so long as you reside undermy roof, you never give that young lady any thing again, nor hold anyconversation with her: if you disobey my commands, I shall be under thenecessity of discharging you."
The young lady checked herself, and for a moment looked alarmed; butrecovering, she said--"She is not _yours_, and you sha'n't discharge her:she is my _own_ slave, and I will do what I please with her; poor papabought her for me, as soon as I was born, and I'll use her as I please."
"But you know your mamma told you, that as soon as she arrived in Englandshe would be _free_, and might either return or remain, as _she_ pleased.Now it so happens that she is much pleased with my family, and having asincere regard for your mother, she this morning requested Mrs. Harewoodto engage her in any service she could undertake: convinced that she wasworthy our protection, we have done this, and therefore all _your_ claimsupon her are over."
The little girl, bursting into a passionate flood of tears, ran out of theroom.
Poor Zebby, courtesying, said--"Sir, me hopes you will have much pity onMissy--she was spoily all her life, by poor massa--her mamma good, verygood; and when Missy pinch Zebby, and pricky with pin, then good mississshe be angry; but massa say only--'Poo! poo! she be child--naughty trickswear off in time.' He be warm man himself."
The poor negro's defence affected the little circle, and Mr. Harewoodobserving it, said--"You perceive, my dear children, that this child isin fact far more an object of compassion than blame, for she has beenpermitted to indulge every bad propensity of her nature, and their growthhas destroyed that which was good; of course, her life has been unhappy initself, yet punishment has not produced amendment. Poor thing! how many ofthe sweetest pleasures of existence are unknown to her! She is a strangerto the satisfaction of obliging others, and to the consciousness ofovercoming herself, which, I trust, you all know to be an inestimableblessing. I truly pity her; but I am compelled to treat her as if I blamedher only; I am obliged to be harsh, in order that I may be useful, and givepain to produce ease."
In about an hour, finding that no one approached, and feeling the want ofthe dinner her shameful rudeness and petulance had interrupted, and whichshe had but just begun, Matilda came down stairs, with the air of a personwho is struggling to hide, by effrontery, the chagrin she is conscious ofdeserving: no person took any notice of her entrance, and all appearanceof the good meal she wanted was removed. There was a certain something inthe usually-smiling faces of the heads of the mansion that acted as arepellent to her, and she sat for some time silent; but at length she spoketo Ellen, who, from her gentle meekness, was ever easy of access, and whom,intending to mortify, she accosted thus--"Nelly, did you eat my chicken?"
Charles burst into a loud laugh, as Ellen, who had never heard herself thusaddressed, for a moment looked rather foolish; on which he answered forher, with a somewhat provoking sauciness of countenance--"No, Matty, shedid not eat your chicken."
"My name is not Matty--it is Matilda Sophia, and you
are a great booby forcalling me so; but Nelly, or Nell, is short for Ellen, and by one of thosenames I shall call her, whenever I choose, if it be only to vex _you_."
"Perhaps, too, you will choose to prick her, and pinch her, Miss MatildaSophia Hanson?" answered Charles, sneeringly, drawing out her name as longand as pompously as it was possible.
"Fie, Charles!" said Edmund; "I am sure you act as if you had forgotten allthat papa told us about Miss Hanson."
Charles, after a moment's thought, acknowledged that he was wrong, very,very wrong.
Matilda was much struck with this; she was well aware that, under thesame circumstances, she should have said much more than he had, and she wascurious as to what had been said of her, which could have produced thiseffect on a boy generally so vivacious and warm-tempered as Charles. Aftercogitating upon it some time, she at length concluded that Mr. Harewood hadendeavoured to impress on the minds of his family the consequence shepossessed, as an only child and a great heiress; and although he hadappeared so lately to act under a very different impression, yet it wasvery possible that he had only done so because he was out of temperhimself, and, now his mind was become tranquil again, he had repented ofhis conduct, and been anxious to prevent his children from following hisexample in this respect.
The more Matilda thought of this, the more fully she fixed it in her mindas an article of belief; but yet there was something in the calm, firmtones of Mr. Harewood, when he spoke to her, and in his present open, yetunbending countenance, when he happened to cast his eyes towards her, whichrendered her unsatisfied with the answer she thus gave her own internalinquiries; and although she had been exceedingly angry with him, forpresuming to speak to her, she yet felt as if his esteem, and indeed hisforgiveness, were necessary for her happiness; and her pride, thusstrengthened, contended with her fears and consciousness of guilt andfolly; and while she resolved inwardly to keep up her dignity with theyoung ones, she yet, from time to time, cast an anxious eye towards hernew monitor.
In a short time, to Matilda's great relief, Mr. Harewood stepped intothe library to get a book; and the children, in the hope that, when hereturned, he would kindly indulge them, either by reading to them, orrelating occasionally such anecdotes or observations as the work he readmight furnish him with, left their seats, and pressed round the placewhere their parents were sitting.
Matilda did not like to be left alone, nor did she feel as if she had aright to be held as a child among the rest: again her pride and herrepentance had a great struggle, and she knew not to which she should givethe preference, for her heart swelled alike with pride and sorrow; shemoved towards the same place, and sought, in the bustle of the moment, todivert the painful feeling which oppressed her.
In a few moments, Mr. Harewood was heard to shut the library-door; and as,of course, he might be expected to re-enter very soon, and would now bemuch nearer to her than he had been, and would certainly adopt some moredecided kind of conduct and language towards her, Matilda became againextremely desirous of knowing what he really had said about her, and shetwo or three times essayed to speak; but a little remaining modesty, whichwas nearly all the good which her unhappy education had left her, preventedher, until she found that she had no time beyond the present instant leftfor satisfying her curiosity on so important a point, when, in aconsiderable flutter of spirits, she whispered to Ellen, but in a voicesufficiently articulate to be heard by others--"Pray what did your papa sayof me?"
"That you were very much to be pitied."
"Pitied! Pray what am I to be pitied for?"
Ellen blushed very deeply: she could not answer a question which calleddown confusion on the head of her who asked it--one, too, whom she wasinclined to love, and whose petulance towards herself, however unprovoked,she had already forgiven. She looked wistfully in the face of her mamma,who replied for her--"We all think you are much to be pitied, because youare evidently a poor, little, forlorn, ignorant child, without friends, andunder the dominion of a cruel enemy, that renders you so frightful, it isscarcely possible for even the most humane people to treat you withkindness, or even endure you."
Matilda involuntarily started up, and examined herself in thelooking-glass.--"If I had happened to be your _own_ daughter, ma'am," shesaid, crying again, "you would not have thought me ugly; but because I comefrom Barbadoes, you don't like me; and it is cruel and wicked to treat meso. But I will go back--I will--I will."
"I wish most sincerely you had never come, for it is painful to me towitness the folly and sin you are guilty of; but, since you are here, Iwill endeavour to bear with you, until I have found a good school to sendyou to. If you would give yourself time to consider, you would know thatthe enemy I spoke of is your own temper, which would render even perfectbeauty hideous; you know very well that I received you with the greatestkindness, and that you have outraged that kindness. But I can forgive you,because I see that you are a silly child, who fancies herself ofimportance; whereas children, however they may be situated, are poordependent creatures."
Matilda answered only by a scornful toss of her head, and uttering theword--"Dependent!"
"Edmund," said Mrs. Harewood, taking no notice of her insolent look, "youare a strong healthy boy, forward in your education, capable of reflection,and decidedly superior, not only in age, but wisdom, to any other inthe room; answer me candidly, as if you were speaking to a boy likeyourself--Do you feel it possible so to conduct yourself, that, if youwere left alone in the world, you could be happy and independent?"
"My dear mamma," said Edmund, "you must be laughing at me; a pretty figureI should cut, if I were to set up for a man, without any one to advise mehow to act, to tell me when I was wrong, and to manage every thing for me!how could I do right without my papa, or some proper guardian? and howcould I be happy without you, mamma?"
As Edmund spoke, he threw his arms round his mother; and the othersfollowed his example, saying--"No, no, we could do nothing without youand dear papa; pray do stay with us, and make us good."
As they spoke, the tears were in their eyes, and Matilda was affected: sheremembered the tenderness of her own mother, and how often she had turneda deaf ear to her expostulations. She was convinced that these children, atthis very time, enjoyed a sweeter pleasure than she had ever experiencedfrom the gratification of her desires, and she even longed to confess herfolly, and gain her share of Mrs. Harewood's caresses; but pride stillstruggled in her heart; and though her reason was convinced of the truth,that children are indeed dependent on their friends for all that renderslife valuable, yet her temper still got the better, and she resolutely heldher tongue, though she ceased to look haughty and ill-humoured.