Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  Laura received this declaration in silence — Rosamond smiled; and at her smile the ill-suppressed rage of the spoiled child burst forth into the seventh and loudest fit of crying which had yet been heard on her birthday.

  “What’s the matter, my pet?” cried her mother; “come to me, and tell me what’s the matter.” Bell ran roaring to her mother; but no otherwise explained the cause of her sorrow than by tearing the fine lace with frantic gestures from her cuffs, and throwing the fragments into her mother’s lap. “Oh! the lace, child! — are you mad?” said her mother, catching hold of both her hands. “Your beautiful lace, my dear love — do you know how much it cost?”

  “I don’t care how much it cost — it is not beautiful, and I’ll have none of it,” replied Bell, sobbing; “for it is not beautiful.”

  “But it is beautiful,” retorted her mother; “I chose the pattern myself.

  Who has put it into your head, child, to dislike it? Was it Nancy?”

  “No, not Nancy, but THEM, mamma,” said Bell, pointing to Laura and

  Rosamond.

  “Oh, fie! don’t POINT,” said her mother, putting down her stubborn finger; “nor say THEM, like Nancy; I am sure you misunderstood. Miss Laura, I am sure, did not mean any such thing.”

  “No, madam; and I did not say any such thing, that I recollect,” said Laura, gently. “Oh, no, indeed!” cried Rosamond, warmly, rising in her sister’s defence.

  No defence or explanation, however, was to be heard, for everybody had now gathered round Bell, to dry her tears, and to comfort her for the mischief she had done to her own cuffs. They succeeded so well, that in about a quarter of an hour the young lady’s eyes, and the reddened arches over her eyebrows came to their natural colour; and the business being thus happily hushed up, the mother, as a reward to her daughter for her good humour, begged that Rosamond would now be so good as to produce her “charming present.”

  Rosamond, followed by all the company, amongst whom, to her great joy, was her godmother, proceeded to the dressing room. “Now I am sure,” thought she, “Bell will be surprised, and my godmother will see she was right about my generosity.”

  The doors of the wardrobe were opened with due ceremony, and the filigree basket appeared in all its glory. “Well, this is a charming present, indeed!” said the godmother, who was one of the company; “MY Rosamond knows how to make presents.” And as she spoke, she took hold of the basket, to lift it down to the admiring audience. Scarcely had she touched it, when, lo! the basket fell to the ground, and only the handle remained in her hand. All eyes were fixed upon the wreck. Exclamations of sorrow were heard in various tones; and “Who can have done this?” was all that Rosamond could say. Bell stood in sullen silence, which she obstinately preserved in the midst of the inquiries that were made about the disaster.

  At length the servants were summoned, and amongst them, Nancy, Miss Bell’s maid and governess. She affected much surprise when she saw what had befallen the basket, and declared that she knew nothing of the matter, but that she had seen her mistress in the morning put it quite safe into the wardrobe; and that, for her part, she had never touched it, or thought of touching it, in her born days. “Nor Miss Bell, neither, ma’am, — I can answer for her; for she never knew of its being there, because I never so much as mentioned it to her, that there was such a thing in the house, because I knew Miss Rosamond wanted to surprise her with the secret; so I never mentioned a sentence of it — did I, Miss Bell?”

  Bell, putting on the deceitful look which her maid had taught her, answered boldly, “NO;” but she had hold of Rosamond’s hand, and at the instant she uttered this falsehood she squeezed it terribly. “Why do you squeeze my hand so?” said Rosamond, in a low voice; “what are you afraid of?”

  “Afraid of!” cried Bell, turning angrily; “I’m not afraid of anything, —

  I’ve nothing to be afraid about.”

  “Nay, I did not say you had,” whispered Rosamond; “but only if you did by accident — you know what I mean — I should not be angry if you did — only say so.”

  “I say I did not!” cried Bell, furiously; “Mamma, mamma! Nancy! my cousin Rosamond won’t believe me! That’s very hard. It’s very rude, and I won’t bear it — I won’t.”

  “Don’t be angry, love. Don’t,” said the maid.

  “Nobody suspects you, darling,” said her mother; “but she has too much sensibility. Don’t cry, love; nobody suspected you. But you know,” continued she, turning to the maid, “somebody must have done this, and I must know how it was done. Miss Rosamond’s charming present must not be spoiled in this way, in my house, without my taking proper notice of it. I assure you I am very angry about it, Rosamond.”

  Rosamond did not rejoice in her anger, and had nearly made a sad mistake by speaking aloud her thoughts—”I WAS VERY FOOLISH—” she began and stopped.

  “Ma’am,” cried the maid, suddenly, “I’ll venture to say I know who did it.”

  “Who?” said everyone, eagerly. “Who?” said Bell, trembling.”

  “Why, miss, don’t you recollect that little girl with the lace, that we saw peeping about in the passage? I’m sure she must have done it; for here she was by herself half an hour or more, and not another creature has been in mistress’ dressing-room, to my certain knowledge, since morning. Those sort of people have so much curiosity. I’m sure she must have been meddling with it,” added the maid.

  “Oh, yes, that’s the thing,” said the mistress, decidedly. “Well, Miss

  Rosamond, for your comfort she shall never come into my house again.”

  “Oh, that would not comfort me at all,” said Rosamond; “besides, we are not sure that she did it, and if—” A single knock at the door was heard at this instant. It was the little girl, who came to be paid for her lace.

  “Call her in,” said the lady of the house; “let us see her directly.”

  The maid, who was afraid that the girl’s innocence would appear if she were produced, hesitated; but upon her mistress repeating her commands, she was forced to obey. The girl came in with a look of simplicity; but when she saw a room full of company she was a little abashed. Rosamond and Laura looked at her and one another with surprise, for it was the same little girl whom they had seen weaving lace.

  “Is not it she?” whispered Rosamond to her sister.

  “Yes, it is; but hush,” said Laura, “she does not know us. Don’t say a word, let us hear what she will say.”

  Laura got behind the rest of the company as she spoke, so that the little girl could not see her.

  “Vastly well!” said Bell’s mother; “I am waiting to see how long you will have the assurance to stand there with that innocent look. Did you ever see that basket before?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the girl.

  “YES, MA’AM!” cried the maid; “and what else do you know about it? You had better confess it at once, and mistress, perhaps, will say no more about it.”

  “Yes, do confess it,” added Bell, earnestly.

  “Confess what, madam?” said the little girl; “I never touched the basket, madam.”

  “You never TOUCHED it; but you confess,” interrupted Bell’s mother, “that you DID SEE it before. And, pray, how came you to see it? You must have opened my wardrobe.”

  “No, indeed, ma’am,” said the little girl; “but I was waiting in the passage, ma’am, and this door was partly open; and looking at the maid, you know, I could not help seeing it.”

  “Why, how could you see through the doors of my wardrobe?” rejoined the lady.

  The maid, frightened, pulled the little girl by the sleeve.

  “Answer me,” said the lady, “where did you see this basket?” Another stronger pull.

  “I saw it, madam, in her hands,” looking at the maid; “and—”

  “Well, and what became of it afterwards?”

  “Ma’am” — hesitating—”miss pulled, and by accident — I believe, I saw, ma’am — miss, you know what
I saw.”

  “I do not know — I do not know; and if I did, you had no business there; and mamma won’t believe you, I am sure.” Everybody else, however, did believe; and their eyes were fixed upon Bell in a manner which made her feel rather ashamed.

  “What do you all look at me so for? Why do you all look so? And am I to be put to shame on my birthday?” cried she, bursting into a roar of passion; “and all for this nasty thing!” added she, pushing away the remains of the basket, and looking angrily at Rosamond.

  “Bell! Bell! O, fie! fie! — Now I am ashamed of you; that’s quite rude to your cousin,” said her mother, who was more shocked at her daughter’s want of politeness than at her falsehood. “Take her away, Nancy, till she has done crying,” added she to the maid, who accordingly carried off her pupil.

  Rosamond, during this scene, especially at the moment when her present was pushed away with such disdain, had been making reflections upon the nature of true generosity. A smile from her father, who stood by, a silent spectator of the catastrophe of the filigree basket, gave rise to these reflections; nor were they entirely dissipated by the condolence of the rest of the company, nor even by the praises of her godmother, who, for the purpose of condoling with her, said, “Well, my dear Rosamond, I admire your generous spirit. You know I prophesied that your half-guinea would be gone the soonest. Did I not, Laura?” said she, appealing, in a sarcastic tone, to where she thought Laura was. “Where is Laura? I don’t see her.” Laura came forward. “You are too PRUDENT to throw away your money like your sister. Your half-guinea, I’ll answer for it, is snug in your pocket — Is it not?”

  “No, madam,” answered she, in a low voice.

  But low as the voice of Laura was, the poor little lace-girl heard it; and now, for the first time, fixing her eyes upon Laura, recollected her benefactress. “Oh, that’s the young lady!” she exclaimed, in a tone of joyful gratitude, “the good, good young lady, who gave me the half- guinea, and would not stay to be thanked for it; but I WILL thank her now.”

  “The half-guinea, Laura!” said her godmother. “What is all this?”

  “I’ll tell you, madam, if you please,” said the little girl.

  It was not in expectation of being praised for it, that Laura had been generous, and therefore everybody was really touched with the history of the weaving-pillow; and whilst they praised, felt a certain degree of respect, which is not always felt by those who pour forth eulogiums. RESPECT is not an improper word, even applied to a child of Laura’s age; for let the age or situation of the person be what it may, they command respect who deserve it.

  “Ah, madam!” said Rosamond to her godmother, “now you see — you see she is NOT a little miser. I’m sure that’s better than wasting half a guinea upon a filigree basket; is it not, ma’am?” said she, with an eagerness which showed that she had forgotten all her own misfortunes in sympathy with her sister. “This is being REALLY GENEROUS, father, is it not?”

  “Yes, Rosamond,” said her father, and he kissed her; “this IS being really generous. It is not only by giving away money that we can show generosity; it is by giving up to others anything that we like ourselves: and therefore,” added he, smiling, “it is really generous of you to give your sister the thing you like best of all others.”

  “The thing I like the best of all others, father,” said Rosamond, half pleased, half vexed. “What is that, I wonder? You don’t mean PRAISE, do you, sir?”

  “Nay, you must decide that yourself, Rosamond.”

  “Why, sir,” said she, ingenuously, “perhaps it WAS ONCE the thing I liked best; but the pleasure I have just felt makes me like something else much better.”

  ETON MONTEM.

  [Extracted from the “Courier” of May, 1799.]

  “Yesterday this triennial ceremony took place, with which the public are too well acquainted to require a particular description. A collection, called Salt, is taken from the public, which forms a purse, to support the Captain of the School in his studies at Cambridge. This collection is made by the Scholars, dressed in fancy dresses, all round the country.

  “At eleven o’clock, the youths being assembled in their habiliments at the College, the Royal Family set off from the Castle to see them, and, after walking round the Courtyard, they proceeded to Salt Hill in the following order: —

  “His Majesty, his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, and the Earl of

  Uxbridge.

  “Their Royal Highnesses the Dukes of Kent and Cumberland, Earl Morton, and General Gwynne, all on horseback, dressed in the Windsor uniform, except the Prince of Wales, who wore a suit of dark blue, and a brown surtout over.

  “Then followed the Scholars, preceded by the Marechal Serjeant, the

  Musicians of the Staffordshire Band, and Mr. Ford, Captain of the

  Seminary, the Serjeant Major, Serjeants, Colonels, Corporals, Musicians,

  Ensign, Lieutenant, Steward, Salt Bearers, Polemen, and Runners.

  “The cavalcade was brought up by her Majesty and her amiable daughters in two carriages, and a numerous company of equestrians and pedestrians, all eager to behold their Sovereign and his family. Among the former, Lady Lade was foremost in the throng; only two others dared venture their persons on horseback in such a multitude.

  “The King and Royal Family were stopped on Eton Bridge by Messrs. Young and Mansfield, the Salt Bearers, to whom their Majesties delivered their customary donation of fifty guineas each.

  “At Salt Hill, his Majesty, with his usual affability, took upon himself to arrange the procession round the Royal carriages; and even when the horses were taken off, with the assistance of the Duke of Kent, fastened the traces round the pole of the coaches, to prevent any inconvenience.

  “An exceeding heavy shower of rain coming on, the Prince took leave, and went to the ‘Windmill Inn,’ till it subsided. The King and his attendants weathered it out in their great-coats.

  “After the young gentlemen walked round the carriage, Ensign Vince and the Salt Bearers proceeded to the summit of the hill; but the wind being boisterous, he could not exhibit his dexterity in displaying his flag, and the space being too small before the carriages, from the concourse of spectators, the King kindly acquiesced in not having it displayed under such inconvenience.

  “Their Majesties and the Princesses then returned home, the King occasionally stopping to converse with the Dean of Windsor, the Earl of Harrington, and other noblemen.

  “The Scholars partook of an elegant dinner at the ‘Windmill Inn,’ and in the evening walked on Windsor Terrace.

  “Their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and Duke of Cumberland, after taking leave of their Majesties, set off for town, and honoured the Opera House with their presence in the evening.

  “The profit arising from the Salt collected, according to account, amounted to 8OO pounds.

  “The Stadtholder, the Duke of Gordon, Lord and Lady Melbourne, Viscount

  Brome, and a numerous train of fashionable nobility, were present.

  “The following is an account of their dresses, made as usual, very handsomely, by Mrs. Snow, milliner, of Windsor: —

  “Mr. Ford, Captain, with eight Gentlemen to attend him as servitors.

  “Mr. Sarjeant, Marechal.

  “Mr. Bradith, Colonel.

  “Mr. Plumtree, Lieutenant.

  “Mr. Vince, Ensign.

  “Mr. Young, College Salt Bearer; white and gold dress, rich satin bag,

  covered with gold netting.

  “Mr. Mansfield, Oppidan, white, purple, and orange dress, trimmed with

  silver; rich satin bag, purple and silver: each carrying elegant poles,

  with gold and silver cord.

  “Mr. Keity, yellow and black velvet; helmet trimmed with silver.

  “Mr. Bartelot, plain mantle and sandals, Scotch bonnet, a very Douglas.

  “Mr. Knapp, flesh-colour and blue; Spanish hat and feathers.

  “Mr. Ripley, rose-colour; helmet.

&
nbsp; “Mr. Islip (being in mourning), a scarf; helmet, black velvet; and white

  satin.

  “Mr. Tomkins, violet and silver; helmet.

  “Mr. Thackery, lilac and silver; Roman Cap.

  “Mr. Drury, mazarin blue; fancy cap.

  “Mr. Davis, slate-colour and straw.

  “Mr. Routh, pink and silver, Spanish hat.

  “Mr. Curtis, purple, fancy cap.

  “Mr. Lloyd, blue; ditto.

  “At the conclusion of the ceremony the Royal Family returned to Windsor, and the boys were all sumptuously entertained at the tavern at Salt Hill. About six in the evening all the boys returned in the order of procession, and, marching round the great square of Eton, were dismissed. The captain then paid his respects to the Royal Family, at the Queen’s Lodge, Windsor, previously to his departure for King’s College, Cambridge, to defray which expense the produce of the Montem was presented to him.

  “The day concluded by a brilliant promenade of beauty, rank, and fashion, on Windsor Terrace, enlivened by the performance of several bands of music.

  “The origin of the procession is from the custom by which the Manor was held.

  “The custom of hunting the Ram belonged to Eton College, as well as the custom of Salt; but it was discontinued by Dr. Cook, late Dean of Ely. Now this custom we know to have been entered on the register of the Royal Abbey of Bec, in Normandy, as one belonging to the Manor of East or Great Wrotham, in Norfolk, given by Ralph de Toni to the Abbey of Bec, and was as follows: — When the harvest was finished the tenants were to have half an acre of barley, and a ram let loose; and if they caught him he was their own to make merry with; but if he escaped from them he was the Lord’s. The Etonians, in order to secure the ram, houghed him in the Irish fashion, and then attacked him with great clubs. The cruelty of this proceeding brought it into disuse, and now it exists no longer. — See Register of the Royal Abbey of Bec, folio 58.