THE COMMONER'S DAUGHTER. CHAP. XXV. SECOND BOOK. When I woke next morning, with but vague recollections at first of what had passed on the previous day, I had also the physical sensations of stiffness and exhaustion attendant on the treatment I had received, with the additional shock given to my frame by the overturn of the hackney coach. As I slowly and painfully washed and dressed, I was obliged to deliberate on what I should say to my hostess and Betsy about my friendless condition. I did not wish to expose the cruel behaviour of my family, neither did I choose to tell a falsehood; I related to them, therefore, when I descended to breakfast, a partial account, saying that I had been compelled to leave home suddenly through unkind treatment, and that I wished to find occupation by which I might maintain myself. Mrs. Tegget such was my entertainer's name-shook her head when I said this. "You don't look much fit to get your own bread, Miss," she said. "What do you think you could do?" longer than he thought for; and somehow the gentleman-leastways he couldn't be a gentleman, you'll say-that he left to teach his pupils, got round them or their ma's and governesses; so, that when, at last, poor Mr. Benevoly did get back to Lunnon, he had no business left: perhaps in time he might have got it back, or got fresh; for folks do say he were very clever. Howsumever, I knows nothing about musicking people myself, having of a mangle to look after, and four children, beside Betsy, my eldest, which it is a blessing to think she be so old, for whatever I should do, and them all little, left on my hands when their father he died, falling off a ladder, as he did, when they were a-building Lord-well, I forget his name-his house; but they did say the King built it for him, all along of his victories agin Bony. And▬▬ where was I?" It was difficult, indeed, to tell; for Mrs. Tegget's great hobby seemed to talk, and bewilder herself and her hearers by such a ramification of subjects that it was almost impossible to keep in view the original one with which she started. As I was interested in her first topic, however, recalled it without much difficulty. That question was certainly puzzling, but II parried it. "I do not exactly know. But, oh! Betsy, if I could but find out Mr. Benvolere, he would tell me. You remember Mr. Benvolere, who taught us music at Mnemosyne House?" "In course, Miss, I do. Well, luckily there aint no difficulty about that; because mother has done his washing for years. When I was at Miss Partridge's I made bold to ask for his custom. But he don't live where he did. And, la! poor old gentleman, he be very low in the world since he were took ill, I do fear. We don't get a quarter the washing we did, do us mother?" "My dear old master ill again? What has been the matter?" "Why, Miss" said Mrs. Tegget, who, like all her class, was delighted to have something to tell, even bad news-"it were this way: he went to fetch over his sister, a widow-lady from foreign parts, and he was away, I expect, a deal "About Mr. Benvolere. You were saying-" "Oh yes," eagerly, for fear Betsy, who was waiting with open mouth, should forestall her narrative. "Well, Miss, the old gentleman tooked this deceitful behaviour greatly to heart; his own sister-a nice lady she is, and talks English as well as I do-she told me this; and then a top of all this trouble Mr. Benevoly, poor man, he were seized with a paralysy, and now all one arm is useless, and he can't walk; so Miss, for sure, being a cripple, he can't teach; though I remember, when I was a girl, long before you was born or thought of, Betsy, there were a cripple as used to go about Lunnon, a playing on the fiddle with his chin, and one day he comed up our court he did, for we lived in James-court, Sevendials, on account of our not being able to get a cheap house where mother wanted one, and-" I found, by this time, that the only way to restrain Mrs. Tegget's propensity to diverge K from one subject into another, was to rush into a question directly bearing on the first she commenced with. "And my dear master is then, I fear, in poverty? Oh! tell me where he lives," "Oh, Miss, a long way from here; they-that is Mr. Benevoly and his sister, tooked a small house in Brompton-quite a cottage, four rooms in it, and how they lives I does'nt know; but foreigners, bless you, will live where we can't. A bit of bread and cabbage, boiled soft in a lot of water, will serve them any time. Well, I wish we could live on that-eh, Betsy?" “The children, mother, I think, would look queer at that kind of fare; they would be expectin' to wear wooden shoes next." "Where are your other children, Mrs. Tegget?" I asked. "La, Miss! three on em's at school, and the eldest boy, he be errand lad at Molasses and Mouldys, the great grocers, Miss, in Cheapside, which I dare say you knows. Nice gentleman, Mr. Mouldy; he say to me, says he, the time as I took my boy to him, for I thought it but right as a mother should go with a poor fellow, to give him a good word, which, by reason of wanting, many a boy he goes to the bad, like Thomas Sowerby, a neighbour's son, whose mother died quite promiscuous like, of smallpox, through looking at a mad bull: the bull he were pursuing of a lad, and a woman with red spots all over her face comes up to Thomas's mother, and ses, ses she-" I cut short the catastrophe relating to the mother of Thomas Sowerby, by asking abruptly what it was o'clock. At first I was fearful of offending Mrs. Tegget, by interrupting the progress of her discourse; but I found her deviations made such inroads on the good woman's time and my own, that I felt compelled to do so. She took not, however, the slightest offence, probably being perfectly accustomed to be recalled in that way. "Just eleven, Miss," she said, "and I have a long day's ironing before me I declare. Betsy shall go, Miss, to Brompton with you, if like, as soon as ever she has tidied up and cleaned herself." you mal brought back many painful recollections— of my dear mother; of my first days at school, and Lady Laura's persecutions, both of Tootsy and myself. It might be fancy, but, as I talked to him, hiding my tears at these memories in his glossy coat, he seemed to comprehend my feelings, and purred and rubbed his head against my hands and face, with as much sympathy as his feline nature allowed him to testify. "I declare," said Betsy, who, at length, came down radiant in her Sunday's bonnet, “if Tootsy dont recollect you quite well to-day! He was roused up, poor beast, from his sleep last night, and so, at first—” "Are you ready, Betsy? Well then, if you please, we will start; but first, Mrs. Tegget, you must accept a week's rent. I cannot tell if I shall come back here to-night, but I am most grateful for the kind shelter you have afforded me, and please keep the change for the food I have had." I put three half-crowns into her hand-I was unused to petty economies, and could not offer the good woman less, though she looked only for the rent of her room. Fifteen shillings only remained in my purse, and I had already decided that I must take a coach to Brompton, lest I should be recognized on my road thither. While Betsy went to fetch one, and, according to my desire, made a bargain with the coachman, Mrs. Tegget tried to decline taking more than her bare due; but just then, her three healthy, scantily-clothed, rosy-looking children came back from school, and, with a tear in her eye, a smile and a grateful curtsey, the poor mother acquiesced, when I told her to buy something for them out of her superfluity. The coach came, and it was stipulated that I had to pay for its hire three-and-sixpence. Betsy, in high glee at riding in a hackney coach, followed me in, and told the man to drive to Poplar-row, Brompton. In the coach I detailed a scheme of mine. for me on the security of some jewels?" "Betsy, you remember once procuring money "La, Miss, yes; only the other day I was a laughin' about it. But it was real good of you." "Well, never mind that now; I did it then to serve another, now I want the same thing done to serve myself. I have my dear mother's bracelet here, and a few things beside. What money can I procure?" "Goodness me! I don't know. There's a pearl necklace, Miss, and four rings and a brooch. Well, now, I can't tell; you ought to get seven pounds, at least, as I got four for your only." I thankfully accepted the offer, and when left to myself I looked at my finances, and calculated them. Seven and sixpence taken from my sovereign left twelve shillings and sixpence, which, with the smaller piece of gold, made my whole worldly wealth consist of £1 2s. 6d. On enquiring of Mrs. Tegget the price of my room, she informed me that, being furnished, she let it at two-and-ninepence a week. "And my refresh-bracelet ments?" She humbly hoped, poor soul, I wouldn't think about that; she was poor, but she wasn't so bad off as to grudge a cup of tea, 'specially to a young lady who had been so good to her Betsy, and who, above all, had presented them with such an animal as our Tootsy." "If ever a dumb beastes speak, Miss," she observed, "he do.” I smiled, and took my old pet on my lap to fondle and stroke him. The sight of the poor ani "A perfect treasure, Betsy! How can you get it?" "Stop the coach, Miss, when I tell you, and tell the man to get himself a pot of beer, then he won't mind waiting a bit, and I'll run and get the money." "You shall do that; here is a shilling." "But, Miss, I ask parding, are you so poor?" "For a little while, Betsy; and as you tell me Mr, Benvolere is ill and not well off, I might perhaps inconvenience him by going unprepared." "Sure! Well, you has a kind heart, Miss, from the day when you was quite a little girl, and come to me with such a pitiful face to get poor Miss Liscombe, as died, grapes and wine, Betsy,' says you, what's to be done? I ain't got no money.' Well, now, and only to think your poor ma's bracelet must go again!" But here she desired me to stop the coach, and I was obliged to wait patiently while she prevailed on the coachman to draw up his vehicle before the door of a public-house, into which he went, presently emerging with a foaming pewter pot, and a long clay pipe, with which, during Betsy's absence, he leisurely solaced himself. It was not a very dignified position for "Miss Castlebrook," but half my cares were gone when Betsy, scarlet as her own bonnet ribbons, from the haste she had made, returned and stept nimbly into the coach, the door of which she opened with her own hands. "All right, young 'oman?" inquired the coachman. "I was beginning to think you had runned away and left me a corpse inside, the lady was so precious quiet." With this piece of facetiousness, he mounted his box, and once more we were progressing towards Brompton. Betsy was eager to tell me what she called her "luck." "Oh Miss! look here. Ten guineas. I thought I would fly high, and asked fifteen. Aint you glad?" "Very! Very glad. And Betsy, here's a sovereign for your trouble." "Oh Miss. Well there never was; but you'll want it yourself?" "Before I have spent nine guineas I hope to earn money for myself." I became lost in thought. What future was it that lay before me? I believed I knew-To maintain myself simply till I could communicate with Vincent, and he could come and claim me as his wife." brother is always talking of Miss Castlebrook. He is a sad invalid. Come in. Your servant I suppose?" "Not quite. Let her remain here till I have spoken to Mr. Benvolere, if you please." "Go in there, young woman. Why, Betsy, is it you! I did not recognize you. Ah my eyes are getting dim. I will take you to my brother, Miss Castlebrook." She preceded me, and in another moment I heard the dear well-known voice cry out― Where is she? Let me see her-My dear, dear child, I thought you were lost to me for ever. When I read, a little time ago, of Miss Isabella Castlebrook's presentation, the poor old man-very poor now, my dear, as I suppose you know-said to himself, 'I shall never see her more.' But let me look at you. And so my dear little simple pupil is grown into a beauty-a fine lady, and yet comes to see her old master." "Oh, sir!" I cast myself on my knees by the side of his invalid chair. "I am no beauty-no fine lady. I am a poor forlorn, friendless girl, asking for your pity, your protection. Save me from those that hate me; still more, save me from myself. I know not what I may be tempted to do." "My child," trembling very much, "is this possible? Then come to my heart and arms. The child of Frances de Trevor must ever be held as my own. You are a woman now, and one day I will tell you the hold which, from the first time I saw you, you had on my heart." "Oh Sir, bless you! bless you for shelterfor love." "Do not thank me, my dear; you little know to what a poor household you have come." "I do, indeed, dear sir; but I wish to be an aid, not a burden. Yet perhaps your sister-?" He rang a little bell by his side, and called at the same time, "Here, Theresa, Theresa! Isabella, my sister: Madame Theresa she is called, for the sake of brevity. Her name is Betsy, on her part, was absorbed in con- Theresa Montafauconi-too long a one for Engtemplating the sovereign which lay on her openlish tongues to pronounce, or English heads to palm in all its attractive brilliancy. She was going, in a week's time, to a fresh place, and doubtless was revelling in the prospect of new caps and ribbons to be procured with the coin she held. remember. Well, sister, Miss Castlebrookdear to me as my own daughter, had I been blessed with one-throws herself on our protection. She will explain why she does so when we have leisure to listen and she to tell us. Meanwhile, she desires to know if you will extend your care to her, as I will mine." Madame Theresa, who seemed a placid and kind, though undemonstrative person, smiled, and hoped I would excuse the poverty of the ménage I had come to. "Invaded, dear madam, you mean," I said, holding out my hand; which she took, and, in her foreign fashion, kissed. We were friends directly, and I felt grateful that a motherly person of my own sex was at hand-a matter I had not once referred to, when I had formed the idea of taking refuge with Benvolere: in truth, I was still a child with regard to conventional usages. I went out then to dismiss Betsy, who proposed to walk home; and when I suggested a coach, and said I would willingly pay the fare, she protested so much that she preferred walking and looking at the shops, that at length II was compelled to desist. Bidding her farewell, I accompanied the honest girl to the gate, strictly enjoining her never to reveal my abode. "That I won't, miss," she said; and implicitly I relied on her good faith. The evening was spent by me in detailing to Mr. Benvolere and his sister my course since I had last parted from him. I concealed nothing, and though it was a trial, I even frankly stated the engagement between myself and Vincent Tarragon. But when I had finished, iny master was silent, and I read disapproval in his eye, dim as it was now with age and sickness. "You think," said I, sorrowfully, "that I should not have left home?" And as I spoke, my own conscience was by no means clear about this part of my history. "My child! beaten and brow-beaten, it was natural enough, in a girl possessing any spirit; but-do not be hurt-I think Colonel Tarragon should have openly told Mr. Castlebrook and Lady Laura of your mutual attachment. There is something wrong about clandestine engagements. Had you or your lover acted thus openly, there could have been no excuse for the violent treatment you received." I dropped my head. This view of the case, stated so clearly and unhesitatingly by my master, had somehow-so completely are the most conscientious persons blinded by their own partialities and self-esteem-never occurred to I was ingenuous enough directly to own my individual faultiness, but I could not bear to hear Vincent blamed. me. "I was wrong: I see it now; but I think Colonel Tarragon's motive for not explaining was most kind. He feared his sister's harshpess towards me: the event has proved he was right in his fears." "My dear, you could hardly have experienced worse treatment than you have had: besides, the very secrecy frees him, if he pleases, from his engagement." "Impossible, dear sir; you do not know Vincent-the very soul of honour, and-" "Dear child, I doubt it not" (smiling); "but you are in love, and I am not: that is all the difference. You see through a misty, rosy light; and I—I have my spectacles on.' We entered then into a consultation as to what I could do. At present I insisted that I should share in the expenses of the family-a proposal which, though Benvolere stoutly resisted, Madame Theresa did not take amiss. "Your sister and I shall settle this matter," I said, laughing. "But will you not write home?" said my master. "Your father, unkind as he seems, is yet a father, and doubtless suffers." "I will do so," I said, "and confess where I was to blame; but I will give no clue to my discovery-unless you would have me forced into a detested marriage !" "Of course not." "But is there no employment open to me?" asked. "My dear, there is one prospect; yet I know not how you could do it. Since I have been ill the business of a suburban professor has been offered me. It is still to be had, and my inflaence could secure it; but alas! no hope remains that I shall ever be anything in this world but a helpless log!" "Dear sir, you shall rest now, and I will work. Oh, if you only knew how I have longed for work, real earnest work! How lucky I am! See, it is here to my wish. But" (changing my tone) "do you think I am competent?" " "Unquestionably, unless my Isabella has lost her rare gift of voice, and skill of finger. Play, my love (His piano was close beside him. I played a short study of Beethoven's). "Bravissima! Did you ever hear better, Theresa? This child is sent as a blessing; let us accept it." He looked up reverently, and Madame Theresa, a pious Catholic, crossed herself. My master continued :-" I will write about this to-morrow, at least I will dictate a note: I can only just dot music now with my left hand." I found, from Madame Theresa, with whom I retired that night-for I was to share her room-that Benvolere and his sister were living now on the little money he had saved, and the sale of the furniture and plate belonging to the handsome house he had formerly occupied. The good lady, who, as I have said, was very devout, was so long over her orisons, performed before a little table, fitted up with a crucifix and religious gew-gaws like an altar, that I had said my own prayers and was fast asleep ere she laid herself on a small tressel-bed, which, spite of my resistance, she insisted on using in order that I might occupy her former one. CHAP. XXVI. Madame Theresa was up long before I awoke the next morning, and just as I was about to rise, she brought me some coffee to my bedside. I was still in pain; but after that excellent coffee, made as then only foreigners or persons who had resided much abroad, could make it, I felt refreshed both in body and spirit. I had descended long before Mr. Benvolere had risen. He was in the habit now, his sister said, with a sigh, of resting till late, for otherwise his sad invalid condition made the days appear long. "And," added the kind lady, as we sat by the fire conversing, "I don't play much myself, and indeed have enough to do to keep things in order, and prepare our very frugal meals, which I sadly fear, my dear Miss Castlebrook, after the luxuries of your own home, must appear-" "I told her truly that I infinitely preferred bread and water, with peace, to all the choice when I and Tomaso and our great and powerful wrongers are all alike dust, who will credit that such things were true facts? But they are, and even many worse ones. To ruin widows and orphans and honest tradesmen are deemed viands, of which, after all, accustomed as I had been from childhood to plain living, I very seldom tasted, confining myself even at my father's dinner-parties to one dish. "And now," I said, cheerfully, "I can be of great assistance to my dear master, by amusing him in playing, read-only trifles, not to be accounted for at the Great ing, and telling him about the people I have seen some very famous ones, I assure you." She embraced me, smiling, but sadly though; and then, drawing closer to the bright fire, which seemed to enliven the little kitchen as much as the sunbeams which poured into it from between the branches of a great apple-house!" tree, growing in the long garden close to the windows in the rear of the house, Madame Montafauconi told me all that appertained to her own little history. It was short, and simple enough. When her parents died, she, a young girl of sixteen, had been left to the protection of her brother Tomaso. But a year after she became an orphan, she married a gentleman of respectable Italian birth, who had come to England on business. Signor Montafauconi was a merchant of Leghorn, from whence he removed to Tours. During the French Revolution, in common with many others, he lost all he possessed, and at his death his widow found herself left with but a bare pittance. "Still, little as it was, that would have been a blessing," said Theresa Montafauconi, wiping away the tears which her narration had brought into her eyes : "but alas! it was not to be. Instead of an aid to poor Tomaso, I am now-except that I am of some little use in nursing him- but a burthen." She spoke, like her brother, excellent English, with only the slightest accent of a foreigner. She continued: Day of Reckoning! But, till Tomaso fell ill, we had still hope left, though we are both growing aged and, alas! helpless. I scarcely know how to make the little we have left, eke out; and when that is gone where are we to get more? Ah, me! I see nothing in view but the work She burst into bitter tears as she said this. It pierced my heart to see them roll down the pale, withered cheeks. "In the Plan divine All for good combine." How true those lines! My own sorrows and hardships at home had sent me here, to be a succour and an aid, I trusted, to these forlorn old peowill we not trust in thee? Why are we everple. O my God, how good thou art! Why more lamenting and groaning and stretching forth our hands for help? Is not help ever sure to come? Lord! among our sins, when we kneel beseeching for pardon, forgive the faintheartedness that, in its wilful doubt and miswisdom to secure some money. I had so little trust, is atheistic. I was glad I had had the notion then of household economy, that I could not offer to save Madame Theresa from any trouble in that way; but I placed some money in her hand, and begged she would use the coin as she thought best. She was as much overjoyed at the sight, as her placid nature would permit. 66 It was just the light in which I loved to be regarded. "And now," I said, "I will go to your room and write to my father, and then the task will be off my mind." Now," she said, "I shall be able to pay "The continent was in a very disturbed state: lest we should want necessaries. We have a our quarter's rent, which I was fearful of doing men were crying out about their own rights so kind landlord; but then, you know, everyone much, that they forgot those of their neigh-looks to be paid their due. Oh, my dear, I do bours. To carry about much money was a hazardous thing: before my brother arrived to indeed believe you have been sent to us as a blessing." fetch me I had been induced to change all I possessed into bills, which bore the signature of the three eldest English princes, and which I was assured were better than cash, for they would be honoured as soon as presented. They had been given to certain bankers who advanced a loan to the Prince, and who had thus for some years put them in circulation. Ah! if I had but known then the fate of those emigrés, who some years before had, like myself, been easily persuaded-nay, who were eager to purchase others of these bills, believing so firmly in the honour of English Royalty, I should have been wiser: yet even my brother, though he looked grave at what I had done, did not altogether credit that my claim would be disavowed. But it was; and at last, as Tomaso grew importunate in his applications at Carlton-house, we were threatened with the worst consequences if we persisted in this demand. Then we knew all was lost. Ah! if the base secrets of great people were all known, what shabby, wicked deeds would be brought to light! In years to come, "And I-bless me! how talking does hinder the time, I declare; but it's a comfort to tell one's troubles to a kind young heart, after all. I must go to market, and, after that, I must get my brother up. Poor dear love, he cannot dress or wash himself. Ah, how sad! and to me it seems but the other day that he was such a fine, handsome young man-so handsome, that I always used to count on Tomaso's wedding a rich wife." "When he is dressed, Madame Theresa, I must talk to him about applying for this business: I think I could teach very well. There was not much teaching at Mnemosyne-house, except Miss Phitts's: but at Miss Norman's I saw an excellent routine of tuition. I used often to long to take the junior music-teacher's place, only it would not have been allowed." |