Tales And Novels, Volume 1 by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales And Novels, Volume 1

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"Pranty, ay, pranty," repeated Betty Williams--"our Miss Hodges always
takes pranty in her teas at Llanwaetur."

"Brandy!--then she can't be my Araminta."

"Oh, the very same, and no other; you are quite right, ma'am," said
Mrs. Bertrand, "if you mean the same that is publishing the novel,
ma'am,--'The Sorrows of Araminta'--for the reason I know so much about it
is, that I take in the subscriptions, and distributed the _pur_posals."

Angelina had scarcely time to believe or disbelieve what she heard,
before the maid returned, with "Mam, Mizz Hodges haz hur best love to
you, mizz--and please to walk up--There be two steps; please to have a
care, or you'll break your neck."

Before we introduce Angelina to her "unknown friend," we must relate the
conversation which was actually passing between the amiable Araminta and
her Orlando, whilst Miss Warwick was waiting in the fruit shop. Our
readers will be so good as to picture to themselves a woman, with a face
and figure which seemed to have been intended for a man, with a voice and
gesture capable of setting even man, "imperial man," at defiance--such
was Araminta. She was, at this time, sitting cross-legged in an arm-chair
at a tea-table, on which, beside the tea equipage, was a medley of things
of which no prudent tongue or pen would undertake to give a correct
inventory. At the feet of this fair lady, kneeling on one knee, was a
thin, subdued, simple-looking quaker, of the name of Nathaniel Gazabo.

"But now, Natty," said Miss Hodges, in a voice more masculine than her
looks, "you understand the conditions--If I give you my hand, and make
you my husband, it is upon condition that you never contradict any of my
opinions: do you promise me that?"

"Yea, verily," replied Nat.

"And you promise to leave me entirely at liberty to act, as well as to
think, in all things as my own independent understanding shall suggest?"

"Yea, verily," was the man's response.

"And you will be guided by me in all things?"

"Yea, verily."

"And you will love and admire me all your life, as much as you do now?"

"Yea, verily."

"Swear," said the unconscionable woman.

"Nay, verily," replied the meekest of men, "I cannot swear, my Rachel,
being a quaker; but I will affirm."

"Swear, swear," cried the lady, in an imperious tone, "or I will never be
your Araminta."

"I swear," said Nat Gazabo, in a timid voice.

"Then, Natty, I consent to be Mrs. Hodges Gazabo. Only remember always to
call me your dear Araminta."

"My dear Araminta! thus," said he, embracing her, "thus let me thank
thee, my dear Araminta!"

It was in the midst of these thanks that the maid interrupted the
well-matched pair, with the news that a young lady was below, who was in
a great hurry to see Miss Hodges.

"Let her come," said Miss Hodges; "I suppose it is only one of the
Miss Carvers--Don't stir, Nat; it will vex her to see you kneeling to
me--don't stir, I say--"

"Where is she? Where is my Araminta?" cried Miss Warwick, as the maid was
trying to open the outer passage-door for her, which had a bad lock.

"Get up, get up, Natty; and get some fresh water in the
tea-kettle--quick!" cried Miss Hodges, and she began to clear away some
of the varieties of literature, &c., which lay scattered about the room.
Nat, in obedience to her commands, was making his exit with all possible
speed, when Angelina entered, exclaiming--

"My amiable Araminta!--My unknown friend!"

"My Angelina!--My charming Angelina!" cried Miss Hodges.

Miss Hodges was not the sort of person our heroine expected to see;--and
to conceal the panic, with which the first sight of her unknown friend
struck her disappointed imagination, she turned back to listen to the
apologies which Nat Gazabo was pouring forth about his awkwardness and
the tea-kettle.

"Turn, Angelina, ever dear!" cried Miss Hodges, with the tone and action
of a bad actress who is rehearsing an embrace--"Turn, Angelina, ever
dear!--thus, thus let us meet, to part no more."

"But her voice is so loud," said Angelina to herself, "and her looks so
vulgar, and there is such a smell of brandy!--How unlike the elegant
delicacy I had expected in my unknown friend!" Miss Warwick involuntarily
shrunk from the stifling embrace.

"You are overpowered, my Angelina--lean on me," said her Araminta.

Nat Gazabo re-entered with the tea-kettle--

"Here's _boiling_ water, and we'll have fresh tea in a trice--the young
lady's over-tired, seemingly--Here's a chair, miss, here's a chair,"
cried Nat. Miss Warwick _sunk_ upon the chair: Miss Hodges seated herself
beside her, continuing to address her in a theatrical tone.

"This moment is bliss unutterable! my kind, my noble-minded Angelina,
thus to leave all your friends for your Araminta!"--Suddenly changing her
voice--"Set the tea-kettle, Nat!"

"Who is this Nat, I wonder?" thought Miss Warwick.

"Well, and tell me," said Miss Hodges, whose attention was awkwardly
divided between the ceremonies of making tea and making speeches--"and
tell me, my Angelina--That's water enough, Nat--and tell me, my Angelina,
how did you find me out?"

"With some difficulty, indeed, _my Araminta_." Miss Warwick could hardly
pronounce the words.

"So kind, so noble-minded," continued Miss Hodges--"and did you receive
my last letter--three sheets?--And how did you contrive--Stoop the
kettle, _do_, Nat."

"Oh, this odious Nat! how I wish she would send him away!" thought Miss
Warwick.

"And tell me, my Araminta--my Angelina I mean--how did you contrive your
elopement--and how did you escape from the eye of your aristocratic
Argus--how did you escape from all your unfeeling persecutors?--Tell me,
tell me all your adventures, my Angelina!--Butter the toast, Nat," said
Miss Hodges who was cutting bread and butter, which she did not do with
the celebrated grace of Charlotte, in the Sorrows of Werter.

"I'll tell you all, my Araminta," whispered Miss Warwick, "when we are by
ourselves."

"Oh, never mind Nat," whispered Miss Hodges.

"Couldn't you tell him," rejoined Miss Warwick, "that he need not wait
any longer?"

"_Wait_, my dear! why, what do you take him for?"

"Why, is not he your footman?" whispered Angelina.

"My footman!--Nat!" exclaimed Miss Hodges, bursting out a laughing, "my
Angelina took you for my footman."

"Good heavens! what is he?" said Angelina, in a low voice.

"Verily," said Nat Gazabo, with a sort of bashful simple laugh, "verily,
I am the humblest of her servants."

"And does my Angelina--spare my delicacy," said Miss Hodges--"does
my Angelina not remember, in any of my long letters, the name
of--Orlando!--There he stands."

"Orlando!--Is this gentleman your Orlando, of whom I have heard so much?"

"He! he! he!" simpered Nat. "I am Orlando, of whom you have heard so
much; and she--(pointing to Miss Hodges)--she is, to-morrow morning, God
willing, to be Mistress Hodges Gazabo."

"Mrs. Hodges Gazabo, my Araminta!" said Angelina, with astonishment,
which she could not suppress.

"Yes, my Angelina: so end 'The Sorrows of Araminta'--Another cup?--do I
make the tea too sweet?" said Miss Hodges, whilst Nat handed the bread
and butter to the ladies officiously.

"The man looks like a fool," thought Miss Warwick.

"Set down the bread and butter, and be quiet, Nat--Then, as soon as
the wedding is over, we fly, my Angelina, to our charming cottage in
Wales:--there may we bid defiance to the storms of fate--

"'The world forgetting, by the world forgot.'"

"That," said Angelina, "'is the blameless vestal's lot:'--but you forget
that you are to be married, my Araminta; and you forget that, in your
letter of three folio sheets, you said not one word to me of this
intended marriage."

"Nay, my dear, blame me not for a want of confidence, that my heart
disclaims," said Miss Hodges: "from the context of my letters, you must
have suspected the progress my Orlando had made in my affections; but,
indeed, I should not have brought myself to decide apparently so
precipitately, had it not been for the opposition, the persecution of my
friends--I was determined to show them that I know, and can assert, my
right to think and act, upon all occasions, for myself."

Longer, much longer, Miss Hodges, spoke in the most peremptory voice; but
whilst she was declaiming on her favourite topic, her Angelina was
"revolving in her altered mind" the strange things which she had seen and
heard in the course of the last half-hour; every thing appeared to her in
a new light; when she compared the conversation and conduct of Miss
Hodges with the sentimental letters of her Araminta; when she compared
Orlando in description to Orlando in reality, she could scarcely believe
her senses: accustomed as she had been to elegance of manners, the
vulgarity and awkwardness of Miss Hodges shocked and disgusted her beyond
measure. The disorder, and--for the words must be said--slatternly dirty
appearance of her Araminta's dress, and of every thing in her apartment,
were such as would have made a hell of heaven; and the idea of spending
her life in a cottage with Mrs. Hodges Gazabo and Nat overwhelmed our
heroine with the double fear of wretchedness and ridicule.

"Another cup of tea, my Angelina?" said Miss Hodges, when she had
finished her tirade against her persecutors, that is to say, her friends,
"another cup, my Angelina?--do, after your journey and fatigue, take
another cup."

"No more, I thank you."

"Then reach me that tragedy, Nat--you know--"

"Your own tragedy, is it, my dear?" said he.

"Ah, Nat, now! you never can keep a secret," said Miss Hodges. "I wanted
to have surprised my Angelina."

"I am surprised!" thought Angelina--"oh, how much surprised!"

"I have a motto for our cottage here somewhere," said Miss Hodges,
turning over the leaves of her tragedy--"but I'll keep that till
to-morrow--since to-morrow's the day sacred to love and friendship."

Nat, by way of showing his joy in a becoming manner, rubbed his hands,
and hummed a tune. His mistress frowned, and bit her lips; but the
signals were lost upon him, and he sung out, in an exulting tone--

"When the lads of the village so merrily, ah!
Sound their tabours, I'll hand thee along."

"Fool! Dolt! Idiot!" cried his Araminta, rising furious--"out of my
sight!" Then, sinking down upon the chair, she burst into tears, and
threw herself into the arms of her pale, astonished Angelina. "Oh, my
Angelina!" she exclaimed, "I am the most ill-matched! most unfortunate!
most wretched of women!"

"Don't be _frighted_, miss," said Nat; "she'll come _to_ again
presently--'tis only _her way_." As he spoke, he poured out a bumper of
brandy, and kneeling, presented it to his mistress. "'Tis the only thing
in life does her good," continued he, "in this sort of fits."

"Heavens, what a scene!" said Miss Warwick to herself--"and the woman so
heavy, I can scarce support her weight--and is this _my unknown friend?_"

How long Miss Hodges would willingly have continued to sob upon Miss
Warwick's shoulder, or how long that shoulder could possibly have
sustained her weight, is a mixed problem in physics and metaphysics,
which must for ever remain unsolved: but suddenly a loud scream was
heard. Miss Hodges started up--the door was thrown open, and Betty
Williams rushed in, crying loudly--"Oh, shave me! shave me! for the love
of Cot, shave me, miss!" and, pushing by the swain, who held the
unfinished glass of brandy in his hand, she threw herself on her knees at
the feet of Angelina.

"Gracious me!" exclaimed Nat, "whatever you are, you need not push one
so."

"What now, Betty Williams? is the wench mad or drunk?" cried Miss Hodges.

"We are to have a mad scene next, I suppose," said Miss Warwick,
calmly--"I am prepared for every thing, after what I have seen."

Betty Williams continued crying bitterly, and wringing her hands--"Oh,
shave me this once, miss! 'tis the first thing of the kind I ever tid,
inteet, inteet! Oh, shave me this once--I tid not know it was worth so
much as a shilling, and that I could be hanged, inteet--and I--"

Here Betty was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Puffit, the milliner,
the printer's devil, and a stern-looking man, to whom Mrs. Puffit, as she
came in, said, pointing to Betty Williams and Miss Warwick, "There they
are--do your duty, Mr. Constable: I'll swear to my lace."

"And I'll swear to my black thumbs," said the printer's devil.

"I saw the lace hanging out of her pocket, and there's the marks of my
fingers upon it, Mr. Constable."

"Fellow!" cried Miss Hodges, taking the constable by the arm, "this is my
apartment, into which no minion of the law has a right to enter; for, in
England, every man's house is his castle."

"I know that as well as you do, _madam!_" said the constable; "but I make
it a principle to do nothing without a warrant: here's my warrant."

"Oh, shave me! the lace is hers inteet!" cried Betty Williams, pointing
to Miss Warwick. "Oh, miss is my mistress inteet--"

"Come, mistress or miss, then, you'll be pleased to come along with me,"
said the constable, seizing hold of Angelina--"like mistress, like maid."

"Villain! unfeeling villain! oh, unhand my Angelina, or I shall die! I
shall die!" exclaimed Araminta, falling into the arms of Nat Gazabo, who
immediately held the replenished glass of brandy to her lips--"Oh, my
Angelina, my Angelina!"

Struck with horror at her situation, Miss Warwick shrunk from the grasp
of the constable, and leaned motionless on the back of a chair.

"Come, my angel, as they call you, I think--the lady there has brandy
enough, if you want spirits--all the fits and faintings in Christendom
won't serve you now. I'm used to the tricks o' the trade.--The law must
take its course; and if you can't walk, I must carry you."

"Touch me at your peril! I am innocent," said Angelina.

"Innocent--innocence itself! pure, spotless, injured innocence!" cried
Miss Hodges. "I shall die! I shall die! I shall die on the spot!
barbarous, barbarous villain!"

Whilst Miss Hodges spoke, the ready Nat poured out a fresh glass of that
restorative, which he always had ready for cases of life and death; and
she screamed and sipped, and sipped and screamed, as the constable took
up Angelina in his arms, and carried her towards the door.

"Mrs. Innocence," said the man, "you shall see whom you shall see."

Mrs. Puffit opened the door; and, to the utter astonishment of every body
present, Lady Diana Chillingworth entered the room, followed by Lady
Frances Somerset and Mrs. Bertrand. The constable set down Angelina. Miss
Hodges set down the glass of brandy. Mrs. Puffit curtsied. Betty Williams
stretched out her arms to Lady Diana, crying, "Shave me! shave me this
once!" Miss Warwick hid her face with her hands.

"Only my Valenciennes lace, that has been found in that girl's pocket,
and--" said Mrs. Puffit.

Lady Diana Chillingworth turned away with indescribable haughtiness, and,
addressing herself to her sister, said, "Lady Frances Somerset, you would
not, I presume, have Lady Diana Chillingworth lend her countenance to
such a scene as this--I hope, sister, that you are satisfied now." As she
said these words, her ladyship walked out of the room.

"Never was further from being satisfied in my life," said Lady Frances.

"If you look at this, my lady," said the constable, holding out the lace,
"you'll soon be satisfied as to what sort of a young lady _that_ is."

"Oh, you mistake the young lady," said Mrs. Bertrand, and she whispered
to the constable. "Come away: you may be sure you'll be satisfied--we
shall all be satisfied, handsomely, all in good time. Don't let the
_delinquency_ there on her knees," added she aloud, pointing to Betty
Williams--"don't let the _delinquency_ there on her knees escape."

"Come along, mistress," said the constable, pulling up Betty Williams
from her knees. "But I say the law must have its course, if I am not
satisfied."

"Oh, I am confident," said Mrs. Puffit, the milliner, "we shall all be
satisfied, no doubt; but Lady Di. Chillingworth knows my Valenciennes
lace, and Miss Burrage too, for they did me this morning the honour--"

"Will you do me the favour," interrupted Lady Frances Somerset, "to leave
us, good Mrs. Puffit, for the present? Here is some mistake--the less
noise we make about it the better. You shall be satisfied."

"Oh, your ladyship--I'm sure, I'm confident--I shan't utter another
syllable--nor never would have articulated a syllable about the lace
(though Valenciennes, and worth thirty guineas, if it is worth a
farthing), had I had the least intimacy or suspicion the young lady was
your la'ship's protegee. I shan't, at any rate, utter another syllable."

Mrs. Puffit, having glibly run off this speech, left the room, and
carried in her train the constable and Betty Williams, the printer's
devil, and Mrs. Bertrand, the woman of the house.

Miss Warwick, whose confusion during this whole scene was excessive,
stood without power to speak or move.

"Thank God, they are gone!" said Lady Frances; and she went to Angelina,
and taking her hands gently from before her face, said, in a soothing
tone, "Miss Warwick, your friend, Lady Frances Somerset, you cannot think
that she suspects--"

"La, dear, no!" cried Nat Gazabo, who had now sufficiently recovered
from his fright and amazement to be able to speak: "Dear heart! who could
go for to suspect such a thing? but they made such a bustle and noise,
they quite flabbergasted me, so _many_ on them in this small room.
Please to sit down, my lady.--Is there any thing I can do?"

"If you could have the goodness, sir, to leave us for a few minutes,"
said Lady Frances, in a polite, persuasive manner--"you could have the
goodness, sir, to leave us for a few minutes."

Nat, who was not _always_ spoken to by so gentle a voice, smiled, bowed,
and was retiring, when Miss Hodges came forward with an air of defiance:
"Aristocratic insolence!" exclaimed she: "Stop, Nat--stir not a foot, at
your peril, at the word of command of any of the privileged orders upon
earth--stir not a foot, at your peril, at the behest of any titled _She_
in the universe!--Madam, or my lady--or by whatever other name more high,
more low, you choose to be addressed--this is my husband."

"Very probably, madam," said Lady Frances, with an easy calmness, which
provoked Miss Hodges to a louder tone of indignation.

"Stir not a foot, at your peril, Nat," cried she. "I will defend him, I
say, madam, against every shadow, every penumbra of aristocratic
insolence."

"As you and he think proper, madam," replied Lady Frances. "'Tis easy to
defend the gentleman against shadows."

Miss Hodges marched up and down the room with her arms folded. Nat stood
stock still.

"The woman," whispered Lady Frances to Miss Warwick, "is either mad or
drunk--or both; at all events we shall be better in another room." As she
spoke, she drew Miss Warwick's arm within hers.--"Will you allow
aristocratic insolence to pass by you, sir?" said she to Nat Gazabo, who
stood like a statue in the doorway--he edged himself aside.

"And is this your independence of soul, my Angelina?" cried Araminta,
setting her back to the door, so as effectually to prevent her from
passing--"and is this your independence of soul, my Angelina--thus, thus
tamely to submit, to resign yourself again to your unfeeling, proud,
prejudiced, intellect-lacking persecutors?"

"This lady is my _friend_, madam," said Angelina, in as firm and tranquil
a tone as she could command, for she was quite terrified by her
Araminta's violence.

"Take your choice, my dear; stay or follow me, as you think best," said
Lady Frances.

"Your friend!" pursued the oratorical lady, detaining Miss Warwick with a
heavy hand: "Do you feel the force of the word? _Can_ you feel it, as I
once thought you could? Your friend! am not _I_ your friend, your best
friend, my Angelina? your own Araminta, your amiable Araminta, your
_unknown friend?_"

"My _unknown_ friend, indeed!" said Angelina. Miss Hodges let go her
struggling hand, and Miss Warwick that instant followed Lady Frances,
who, having effected her retreat, had by this time gained the staircase.

"Gone!" cried Miss Hodges; "then never will I see or speak to her more.
Thus I whistle her off, and let her down the wind to prey at fortune."

"Gracious heart! what quarrels," said Nat, "and doings, the night before
our wedding-day!"

We leave this well-matched pair to their happy prospects of conjugal
union and equality.

Lady Frances, who perceived that Miss Warwick was scarcely able to
support herself, led her to a sofa, which she luckily saw through the
half-open door of a drawing-room, at the head of the staircase.

"To be taken for a thief!--Oh, to what have I exposed myself!" said Miss
Warwick.

"Sit down, my dear, now we are in a room where we need not fear
interruption--sit down, and don't tremble like an aspen leaf," said Lady
Frances Somerset, who saw that at this moment, reproaches would have been
equally unnecessary and cruel.

Unused to be treated with judicious kindness, Angelina's heart was deeply
touched by it, and she opened her whole mind to Lady Frances, with the
frankness of a young person conscious of her own folly, not desirous to
apologize or extenuate, but anxious to regain the esteem of a friend.

"To be sure, my dear, it was, as you say, rather foolish to set out in
quest of an _unknown friend_," said Lady Frances, after listening to the
confessions of Angelina. "And why, after all, was it necessary to have an
elopement?"

"Oh, madam, I am sensible of my folly--I had long formed a project of
living in a cottage in Wales--and Miss Burrage described Wales to me as a
terrestrial paradise."

"Miss Burrage! then why did she not go to paradise along with you?" said
Lady Frances.

"I don't know--she was was so much attached to Lady Di. Chillingworth,
she said, she could never think of leaving her: she charged me never to
mention the cottage scheme to Lady Di., who would only laugh at it.
Indeed, Lady Di. was almost always out whilst we were in London, or
dressing, or at cards, and I could seldom speak to her, especially about
cottages; and I wished for a friend, to whom I could open my whole heart,
and whom I could love and esteem, and who should have the same tastes and
notions with myself."

"I am sorry that last condition is part of your definition of a friend,"
said Lady Frances, smiling; "for I will not swear that my notions are the
same as yours, but yet I think you would have found me as good a friend
as this Araminta of yours. Was it necessary to perfect felicity to have
an _unknown friend_?"

"Ah! there was my mistake," said Miss Warwick. "I had read Araminta's
writings, and they speak so charmingly of friendship and felicity, that I
thought

'Those best can paint them who can feel them most.'"

"No uncommon mistake," said Lady Frances.

"But I am fully sensible of my folly," said Angelina.

"Then there is no occasion to say any more about it at
present--to-morrow, as you like romances, we'll read Arabella, or the
Female Quixote; and you shall tell me which, of all your acquaintance,
the heroine resembles most. And in the mean time, as you seem to have
satisfied your curiosity about your _unknown friend_, will you come home
with me?"

"Oh, madam," said Angelina, with emotion, "your goodness--"

"But we have not time to talk of my goodness yet--stay--let me see--yes,
it will be best that it should be known that you are with us as soon as
possible--for there is a thing, my dear, of which, perhaps, you are not
fully sensible--of which you are too young to be fully sensible--that, to
people who have nothing to do or to say, scandal is a necessary luxury of
life; and that, by such a step as you have taken, you have given room
enough for scandal-mongers to make you and your friends completely
miserable."

Angelina burst into tears--though a sentimental lady, she had not yet
acquired the art of _bursting into tears_ upon every trifling occasion.
Hers were tears of real feeling. Lady Frances was glad to see that she
had made a sufficient impression upon her mind; but she assured Angelina
that she did not intend to torment her with useless lectures and
reproaches. Lady Frances Somerset understood the art of giving advice
rather better than Lady Diana Chillingworth.

"_I_ do not mean, my dear," said Lady Frances, "to make you miserable
for life--but I mean to make an impression upon you that may make you
prudent and happy for life. So don't cry till you make your eyes so
red as not to be fit to be seen at the play to-night, where they
must--positively--be seen."

"But Lady Diana is below," said Miss Warwick: "I am ashamed and afraid
to see her again."

"It will be difficult, but I hope not impossible, to convince my sister,"
said Lady Frances, "that you clearly understand that you have been a
simpleton; but that a simpleton of sixteen is more an object of mercy
than a simpleton of sixty--so my verdict is--Guilty;--but recommended to
mercy."

By this mercy Angelina was more touched than she could have been by the
most severe reproaches.

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