Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  Yet she was aware how short a time she could exist upon twenty pounds; and while a residence at Mrs Maple’s would be now more than ever unpleasant, recent circumstances had rendered it, more than ever, also, unlikely.

  To acquire that sort of independence, that belongs, physically, to sustaining life by her own means, was her most earnest desire: Her many accomplishments invited her industry, and promised it success; yet how to bring them into use was difficult. She had no one with whom she could consult. Elinor, though, at times, cordially her friend, seemed, in other minutes, her enraged foe. Selina was warmly good natured, but young in every sense of the word; and Mrs Maple considered her always with such humiliating ideas, that to ask her advice would be to invite an affront.

  The occupation for which she thought herself most qualified, and to which, from fondness for young people, she felt herself most inclined, was that of governess to some young lady, or ladies; and, finally, she settled, that she would endeavour to employ herself in that capacity.

  This arrangement mentally made, she communicated it, in a letter of the tenderest and most grateful thanks, to Lady Aurora; entreating her ladyship’s kind and valuable aid, to enable her to leave, in future, for other distressed objects, such marks of benevolence as she had last received; and to owe, personally, those, only, of esteem and regard; which she prized beyond all power of expression.

  The next day, again, very unexpectedly, Selina skipt into her room. ‘We have had a most terrible fuss:’ she cried; ‘Do you know Lord Melbury’s come on purpose to see you!’

  ‘Lord Melbury? Is he not gone to town?’

  ‘Mrs Howel wrote word so, and aunt thought so; but he only went a little way; and then came back to spend two or three days with Sir Lyell Sycamore, at Brighthelmstone. He asked after you, when he came in, and said that he begged leave to be allowed to speak with you, a few minutes, upon a commission from Lady Aurora. Aunt was quite shocked, and said, that she hoped his lordship would excuse her, but she really could not consent to any such acquaintance going on, in her house, now he knew so well what a nobody you were; if not worse. Upon which he said he did not doubt your being a well brought up young lady, for he was certain that you were modesty itself. And then he begged so hard, and said so many pretty and civil things to Aunt, that she was brought round; only it was upon condition, she said, that there should be a witness; and she proposed Mrs Fenn. Lord Melbury was as red as fire, and said that would not be treating Miss Ellis with the respect which he was sure was her due; and he could not be so impertinent as to desire to see her, upon such terms. So, after a good deal more fuss, it was settled, at last, that Sister Elinor should be present. So now you are to come down to her dressing-room.’

  Ellis, though startled at the effect that might be produced by his remaining at Brighthelmstone, was sensibly touched by these public and resolute marks of his confirmed and undoubting esteem.

  Elinor, presently, with restored good humour, and an air of the most lively pleasure, came to fetch her. ‘Lord Melbury,’ she cried, ‘certainly adores you. You never saw a man’s face of so many colours in your life, as when Aunt Maple speaks of you irreverently. If you manage well, you may be at Gretna Green in a week.’

  They descended, without any answer made by Ellis, to the dressing-room.

  The air of Lord Melbury was far less dejected than when they had last parted; yet it had by no means regained its natural spring and vivacity; and he advanced to pay his compliments to Ellis, with a look of even studious deference. He would detain her, he said, but a few minutes; yet could not leave the country, without informing her of two visits, which he had made the day before: both of which had ended precisely with the amity that she had wished.

  Elinor, enchanted in believing, from this opening, that a confidential intercourse was already arranged, declared, that her aunt must look elsewhere for a spy, as she would by no means play that part; and then ran into the adjoining room. Lord Melbury and Ellis would have detained, but could not follow her, as it was her bed-chamber.

  Lord Melbury then, who saw that Ellis was uneasy, promised to be quick. ‘I demanded,’ said he, ‘yesterday, an interview with Mr Harleigh. I told him, without reserve, all that had passed. I cannot paint to you the indignation he shewed at the aspersions of Ireton. He determined to go to him directly, and I resolved to accompany him. — Don’t look pale, Miss Ellis: I repeated to Mr Harleigh the promise you had exacted from me, and he confessed himself to be perfectly of your opinion, that all angry defence, or public resentment, must necessarily, in such a case, be injurious. Yet to let the matter drop, might expose you to fresh abominations. Ireton received us with a mixture of curiosity and carelessness; very inquisitive to know what had passed, but very indifferent whether it were good or bad. We both, by agreement, affected to treat the matter lightly, gravely as we both thought of it: I thanked him, therefore, for the salutary counsel, by which he had urged me to procure myself so confounded a rap of the knuckles, for my assurance; and Mr Harleigh made his acknowledgements in the same tone, for the compliment paid to his liberality, of supposing that a person, who, in any manner, should be thought under his protection, could be in a state of penury. We both, I hope, made him ashamed. He had not, he owned, reflected deeply upon the subject; for which, Mr Harleigh told me, afterwards, there was a very cogent reason, namely, that he did not know how! Mr Harleigh, when we were coming away, forcibly said, “Ireton, placing Lord Melbury and myself wholly apart in this business, ask your own sagacity, I beg, how a female, who is young, beautiful, and accomplished, can suffer from pecuniary distress, if her character be not unimpeachable?” Upon that, struck with the truth of the remark, he voluntarily protested that he would make you all the amends in his power. So ended our visit; and I cannot but hope that it will release you from all similar persecutions.’

  Ellis expressed her sincere and warm gratitude; and Lord Melbury, with an air of penetrated respect, took his leave; evidently much solaced, by the consciousness of serving one whom he had injured.

  Ellis had every reason to be gratified by this attention, which set her mind wholly at rest upon the tenour of Lord Melbury’s regard: while Elinor was so much delighted, to find the acquaintance advance so rapidly to confidence, that she embraced Ellis, wished her joy, mocked all replies of a disclaiming nature, and, accompanying her back to her room, made her a long, social, lively, and entertaining visit; hearing and talking over her project of becoming a governess, but laughing at it, as a ridiculous idea, for the decided wife elect of Earl Melbury.

  She was succeeded by Selina, who exultingly came to acquaint Ellis, that Mr Ireton had just made a formal renunciation of all ill opinion of her; and had told Mrs Maple, that he had indubitable proofs that she was a person of the very strictest character. ‘So now,’ cried she, ‘Lady Aurora and I may vow our friendship to you for life.’

  This was a very solid satisfaction to Ellis, to whom the calumny of Ireton had been almost insupportable. She now hoped that Mrs Maple would favour her new scheme, and that she might remain tranquilly in the house till it took place; and equip herself, from the donation of Lady Aurora, for her immediate appearance in the situation which she sought. She resolved to seize the first opportunity for returning Harleigh his bank notes, and the Miss Joddrels their half-guineas. She wished, also, to repay the guinea of the worthy Admiral, and to repeat to him her grateful acknowledgements: his name and address she concluded that she might learn from Harleigh; but she deferred this satisfaction till more secure of success.

  The next day, Selina ran upstairs to her again. ‘Who do you think,’ she cried, ‘came into the parlour in the middle of breakfast? Mr Dennis Harleigh! He arrived at Brighthelmstone last night. Sister Elinor turned quite white, and never spoke to him; she only just made a sort of bow to his asking how she did, and then swallowed her tea burning hot, and left the room. He can stay only one day, for he must be in London to-morrow night. He is come for his final answer; for he’s quite out of patience.’ />
  Selina had hardly descended the stairs, when Elinor herself mounted them. She entered the chamber precipitately, her face colourless, and her eyes starting from her head. ‘Ellis!’ she cried, ‘I must speak with you!’

  She seated herself, made Ellis sit exactly opposite to her, and went on: ‘There are two things which I want to say to you; or, rather, to demand of you. Have you fortitude enough to tell truth, even though it should wound your self-love? and honour enough to be trusted with a commission a thousand times more important than life or death? and to execute it faithfully, — though at the risk of seeing the greatest idiot that ever existed, shew sufficient symptoms of sense to run mad?’

  Alarmed by her ghastly look, and frightened at the abruptness of questions utterly incomprehensible, Ellis gently entreated to be spared any request with which she could not comply.

  ‘I do not mean,’ cried Elinor, with quickness, ‘to make any call upon your confidence, or to put any fetters upon your conduct. You will be as free after you have spoken as before. I want merely to ascertain a fact, of which my ignorance distracts me! If you have to give me a negative, your vanity alone can suffer; if an affirmative—’ She put her hand upon her forehead, and then rapidly added,— ‘the suffering will not be yours! — give it, therefore, boldly! ‘Twill be heaven to me to end this suspense, be it how it may!’

  Starting up, but preventing Ellis from rising, by laying a hand upon each of her shoulders, she gazed upon her eyes with a fixed stare, of almost frantic impatience, and said, ‘Speak! say Yes, or No, at once! Give me no phrase — Let me see no hesitation! — Kill me, or restore me to life! — Has Harleigh—’ she gasped for breath— ‘ever made you any declaration?’

  ‘None!’ steadily, forcibly, and instantly Ellis answered.

  ‘Enough!’ cried she, recovering some composure.

  She then walked up and down the room, involuntarily smiling, and her lips in a motion, that shewed that she was talking to herself. Then stopping, and taking Ellis by the hand, and half laughing, ‘You will think me,’ she cried, ‘crazy; but I assure you I had never a more exquisite enjoyment of my senses. I see every thing to urge, and nothing to oppose my following the bent of my own humour; or, in other words, throwing off the trammels of unmeaning custom, and acting, as well as thinking, for myself.’

  Again, then, walking up and down the chamber, she pursued her new train of ideas, with a glee which manifested that she found them delightful.

  ‘My dear Ellis,’ she cried, presently, ‘have you ever chanced to hear of such a person as Dennis Harleigh?’

  Ellis wished to avoid answering this question, on account of her informant, Selina; but her embarrassment was answer sufficient. ‘I see yes!’ cried Elinor, ‘I see that you have heard of that old story. Don’t be frightened,’ added she, laughing, ‘I am not going to ask who blabbed it. I had as lieve it were one impertinent fool as another. Only never imagine me of the tribe of sentimental pedants, who think it a disgrace to grow wiser; or who suppose that they must abide by their first opinions, for fear the world should know that they think twice upon one subject. For what is changing one’s mind, but taking the pro one time, and the con another?’

  ‘But come,’ continued she, ‘this is no time for rattling. Two years I have existed upon speculation; I must now try how I shall fare upon practice. Is it not just, Ellis, that it should be you who should drag me out of the slough of despond, since it was you who flung me into it? — However, now for your commission. Do you feel as if you could execute it with spirit?’

  ‘With willingness, certainly, if I see any chance of success.’

  ‘No ifs, Ellis. I hate the whole tribe of dubiosity. However, that you may not make any blunder, I shall tell you my story myself; for all that you have heard from others, you must set down to ignorance or prejudice. Nobody knows my feelings, and nobody understands my reasons. So everybody is at war against me in the dark.

  ‘Now hearken!

  ‘Just as I came of age, and ought to have shaken off the shackles of Aunt Maple, and to have enjoyed my independence and my fortune together, accident brought into my way a young lawyer — this Dennis Harleigh — of great promise in the only profession in the world that gives wit fair play. And I thought him, then, — mark me, Ellis, then! — of a noble appearance. He delighted to tell me his causes, state their merits, and ask my opinions. I always took the opposite side to that which he was employed to plead, in order to try his powers, and prove my own. The French Revolution had just then burst forth, into that noble flame that nearly consumed the old world, to raise a new one, phœnix like, from its ashes. Soon tired of our every day subjects and contests, I began canvassing with him the Rights of Man. He had fallen desperately in love with me, either for my wit or my fortune, or both; and therefore all topics were sure to be approved. Enchanted with a warfare in which I was certain to be always victorious, I grew so fond of conquest, that I was never satisfied but when combating; and the joy I experienced in the display of my own talents, made me doat upon his sight. The truth is, our mutual vanity mutually deceived us: he saw my pleasure in his company, and concluded that it was personal regard: I found nothing to rouse the energies of my faculties in his absence, and imagined myself enamoured of my vanquished antagonist. Aunt Maple did her little best — for every thing she does is little — to forward the connexion; because, though his fortune is trifling, his professional expectations are high; and though he is a younger brother, he is born of a noble family: and that sort of mean old stuff is always in her head; for if the whole world were revolutionized, you could never make her conceive a new idea. And the great fact of all is, she cannot bear I should leave her house before I marry, because, she is sure, in one of my own, I shall adopt some new system of life. Thus, in the toils of my self-love, I became entangled; poor Dennis called himself the happiest of men; the settlements were all drawn up; and we were looking about us for a house to our fancy, and all that sort of stuff, when Dennis introduced his family to us. — Now the rest, I suppose, you can divine?’

  This was, indeed, not difficult; but Ellis durst not risk any reply.

  With a rapidity scarcely intelligible, and in a manner wholly incoherent, she then went on: ‘Ellis, I pretend not to any mystery. Why is one person adorable, and another detestable, but to call forth our love and our hatred? to give birth to all that snatches us from mere inert existence; to our passions, our energies, our noblest conceptions of all that is towering and sublime? Whether you have any idea of this mental enlargement I cannot tell; but with it I see human nature endowed with capabilities immeasurable of perfection; and without it, I regard and treat the whole of my race as the mere dramatis personæ of a farce; of which I am myself, when performing with such fellow-actors, a principal buffoon.’

  Nearly out of breath, she stopt a moment; then, looking earnestly at Ellis, said, ‘Do you understand me?’

  Ellis, in a fearful accent, answered, ‘I ... I am not quite sure.’

  ‘Remove your doubts, then!’ cried she, impatiently; ‘I despise what is obscure, still more than I hate what is false. Falsehood may at least approach to that degree of grandeur which belongs to crime; but obscurity is always mean, always seeking some subterfuge, always belonging to art.’

  Again she stopt; but Ellis, uncertain whether this remark were meant to introduce her confidence, or to censure her own secresy, waited an explanation in silence. Elinor was evidently, however, embarrassed, though anxious to persuade herself, as well as Ellis, that she was perfectly at her ease. She walked a quick pace up and down the room; then stopt, seemed pausing, hemmed to clear her voice for speech; and then walked backwards and forwards before the window, which she frequently opened and shut, without seeming to know that she touched it; till, at length, seized with sudden indignation against herself, for this failure of courage, she energetically exclaimed, ‘How paltry is shame where there can be no disgrace! — I disdain it! — disclaim it! — and am ready to avow to the whole world, that I
dare speak and act, as well as think and feel for myself!’

  Yet, even thus buoyed up, thus full fraught with defiance, something within involuntarily, invincibly checked her, and she hastily resumed her walks and her ruminations.

  ‘What amazing, unaccountable fools,’ she cried, ‘have we all been for these quantities of centuries! Worlds seem to have a longer infancy taken out of the progress of their duration, even than the long imbecility of the childhood of poor mortals. But for the late glorious revolutionary shake given to the universe, I should, at this very moment, from mere cowardly conformity, be the wife of Dennis! — In spite of my repentance of the engagement, in spite of the aversion I have taken to him, and in spite of the contempt I have conceived — with one single exception — for the whole race of mankind, I must have been that poor man’s despicable wife! — O despicable indeed! For with what sentiments could I have married him? Where would have been my soul while I had given him my hand? Had I not seen — known — adored — his brother!’

  She stopt, and the deepest vermillion overspread her face; her effort was made; she had boasted of her new doctrine, lest she should seem impressed with confusion from the old one which she violated; but the struggle being over, the bravado and exultation subsided; female consciousness and native shame took their place; and abashed, and unable to meet the eyes of Ellis, she ran out of the room.

  In the whole of this scene, Ellis observed, with mingled censure and pity, the strong conflict in the mind of Elinor, between ungoverned inclination, which sought new systems for its support; and an innate feeling of what was due to the sex that she was braving, and the customs that she was scorning.