Chapter VI.
Duties of my Lady's Own Woman.
Mrs. Gatty was circumspect not to occupy my Father's Arm-Chair this Evening, whether he came to claim it or no. When the Tea-Things were set, I stept up to Mr. Fenwick to let him know we were ready.
"So soon?" said he, looking up from his Book; "why, do you want me to read to you before Tea?"
"We hope you will oblige us with your Company to Tea, Sir," said I.
"Nay then," said he, in high Good-Humour, "I'll join you directly." And closing his Book with Alacrity, he followed me down Stairs.
We had made no Difference, to call Difference, for him this Evening. He took us as he found us; and chatted away on this and that, as much one of ourselves as if he had not a Word of Latin or Greek in his Head. Once or twice I tried to lead to Something I thought he would have liked better,—Something on which he could have harangued while it would have behoved us to listen; but he darted away from it directly, and would keep down to the Level of his Company, without seeming to mind it.
After Tea, we all took out our Work, and my Mother began to snip a Fly-catcher.
"Oh, now you expect me to read, I suppose," said he; but still delayed, to chat and laugh about this and the other Trifle with Prudence and Gatty, till at last, a sudden Pause occurring, he had no Excuse for idling any longer.
He said he would, with our Leave, read us Shenstone's "Schoolmistress." We had never heard of it, and were quite willing to hear it on his Recommendation. He said it was a Burlesque in the Spenserian Stanza. We knew what a Burlesque was, but not what was a Spenserian Stanza. He said, Illustration was the best Explanation, and began at once. His Voice and Manner of reading were so musical, that I liked the Melody; and could follow him with Ease till he got to "Libs, Notus, and Auster." I suppose he guessed we might be at Fault, so checked himself to tell us they were Names of the Winds. Then he was about to resume, when Prue interrupted him with, "Pray, Sir, what is unkempt?"
"Uncombed, to be sure," put in Gatty.
"Oh, very well, I have been thinking of it ever so long, and could not make out what it was."
"If I come to Anything you wish to know, pray don't scruple to stop me," says Mr. Fenwick; and went on.
By and by, Prue gets treading on Gatty's Foot at—
"As erst the Bard by Mulla's Silver Stream,"
and Gatty frowns at her. Mr. Fenwick, perceiving some By-Play going on, stops to ask if they have Anything to say. Prudence hangs her Head over her Work, colours a little, and says, "No, Sir."
"I believe," says Mr. Fenwick, glancing over the Leaves, "I had better modernize the old Style a little, that you may follow it better."
We all thanked him, except Prudence, who said she liked it best as it was.
"Why? Did she understand it?"
"No."
"Then why did she like it?"
"Because she did." This Answer made Mr. Fenwick laugh; but I must say I thought it very stupid. However, he went on, till within a few Verses of the End; when my Father walked in.
Mr. Fenwick, laying down the Book with that Cheerfulness and Self-Possession which so well became him, took the first Word, and said—
"Good Evening, Mr. Honeywood! Here am I, you see, reading to your good Wife and Daughters, and trying to prepare myself for Duty on a larger Scale."
"Sir, you do us honour," says my Father, quite civilly; "your Company must be an Honour to us at any Time, whenever you please to bestow it on us. Pray go on."
"Oh, we can wait a little While," says Mr. Fenwick. "Pray, is there any News stirring?"
"There's a Whale in the Thames," says my Father.
"Indeed!" cried we all.
"And there's an Eye-lash in my Eye," continues he; "pray, Mrs. Honeywood, come and take it out."
While my Mother was thus engaged, we chatted among ourselves. "What will you have, Father?" said I. "Shall I make you some Tea?"
"No, I'd rather you put on Supper half an Hour, and let me have Something broiled, and some mulled Wine and Toast."
When I returned from giving Orders, I found my Father established in his Arm-Chair, my Mother returned to her Snipping, Prue and Gatty embroidering different Corners of the same Apron, and Mr. Fenwick ready to resume his Reading. The Poem was soon finished, and when we had talked it over a little, he asked us what he should read next. I said I thought he had better not do too much at first, and Supper would soon be ready. He said, "Oh, he was just getting into the Humour of it, and there was Plenty of Time to read some short Piece before Supper." So then my Mother said she thought a Paper of the Tatler would be just long enough; and mentioned a favourite Number that she had not read for a good While—that charming Piece[1] beginning,—"There are several Persons who have many Pleasures and Entertainments in their Possession which they do not enjoy;" and proceeding to give such a touching Picture of domestic Felicity. Mr. Fenwick read it with such Feeling that we were all delighted with it; and it seemed to me that even my Father, who sat quite silent, with his Back to us, was moved by it, for I noticed his breathing very hard,—his only Way of expressing strong Feeling. "Ah!" thought I to myself, "if Mr. Fenwick were to read to us in this nice Way every Evening, and my Father were to grow fond of it and of him, and get into the Way of coming Home early, instead of sipping Spirits and Water with Don Saltero, how happy we should be!"
"And now," says my Mother, "there's a Sequel to that Paper, which I should very much like to hear, save for the Fear of tiring Mr. Fenwick."
"Oh, I'm not at all tired," said he;
"Pray give it me; for I am already quite in love with this good Man and his Wife."
So my Mother looked him out No. 114, which begins, "I was walking about my Chamber this Morning in a very gay Humour, when I saw a Coach stop at my Door, and a Youth of about fifteen alight out of it,"—and goes on to describe the Death of the Wife and Mother of the Family. We were presently all in Tears; Gatty even sobbing; and Mr. Fenwick seemed irresolute once or twice whether to proceed or stop. However, he went on, and when he came to the Husband fainting, my Attention was divided between him and my Father, who at that Crisis gave not a Sigh but a Snore. He was fast asleep. My Mother, ashamed of him, gave him a little Nudge, and said, "My Dear!" on which he turned on his Side, murmured, "Very like a Whale!" and was off again as sound as a Top. None of us could help laughing a little, and after this, there were no more Tears shed. We supped, and separated for the Night.
Gatty and I still slept together; and, as we were undressing, she said, "I fear your Sister thought me affected to-night for crying at that Death-Bed Scene; she gave me such a Look! Indeed I could not help it; I have witnessed one so much like it; and my Spirits are yet tender."
I said, "Pray do not think of it again—Prudence has that sharp Look sometimes, and seems just now under some little Misapprehension; but in the Main, there cannot be a better Creature. She has not seen so much of you as I have, but yet, I am sure she likes you, and admires you too."
"Nobody can do that," says Gatty; "but I don't want to be admired, though I own it is pleasant to me to be liked, and not to be misapprehended."
As she lay down, she said sighing, "Most likely, this is the last Night I shall pass in this dear little Bed."
I said, "Shall you be sorry to leave us?"
"To be sure I shall!" cried she; "you have been Kindness itself to me; even my Illness was solaced, and my Recovery has been very pleasant; but my Life in Servitude is anything but comfortable. I have heard or read a Line somewhere:
'And Betty's praised for Labours not her own.'"
"In my Case, the Reading might be—
'And Gatty's blamed for Blunders not her own.'"
"It cannot be helped. Good Night!"
"I hope," said I, "we shall never quite lose Sight of one another."
"Oh no! I hope not. You must write to me now and then."
"Perhaps you can come to us when you have a Holiday."
"I never have a Holiday. Lady Betty knows I had no Friends when I came to Town, and does not approve of my making any."
"No Friends! That does sound dreary!"
"It is dreary."
I had now extinguished the Candle. She said no more; but I could hear her from Time to Time give a great Sigh.
"Gertrude," I at length said softly, "are you crying?"
She cleared her Throat a little, but made no Answer.
"Tell me, Dear, what's the Matter."
"I'm only a little low," she replied, huskily.
"How I wish I had given you some reviving Drops, before I put out the Candle! I will light it again."
"Oh no! Drops would do me no good—they would not give me what I want."
"What do you want?"
"To see my Mother once more, and my Brothers, and my Sisters, and every one at Home. I do pine for them all so, you can't think!"
And now she sobbed outright, though quietly. "It seems so long since I came away, and the Prospect before me is so forlorn; no certain Hope of going back; or ever, ever seeing them any more!"
"Gertrude, I shall get up and give you the Drops. They will give you Strength."
"I'm afraid they won't."
"Yes, they will. You have over-tired yourself to-day; you are trying to get about too soon. The Drops will quiet you and set you to sleep, and to-morrow you will be better."
So I gave her the Drops, which she thankfully took; and in Half-an-hour or so I was glad to find she was asleep.
The next Morning, while we were dressing, as she had quite recovered her Composure, I took Advantage of what might be my last Opportunity to question her a little more than I had yet done on her Position at Lady Betty's.
"Well," says she, "'tis not good to complain, I know, but however, I will this once say Somewhat of my Life behind the Scenes, with as few Notes and Comments as I can. My first Grievance is sleeping with that Frenchwoman, a low Person whom it is impossible to like. I wake sooner than she does, and avail myself of it for a little quiet Reading or Needlework on my own Account before she is stirring. But first, I light the Fire in the little Closet beneath my Lady's Chamber, put down the Irons, and warm some Coffee for Pompon's Breakfast and mine, which she takes in an uncomfortable Sort of Way, running in and out half dressed, without ever sitting down, so that my Breakfast is uncomfortable too. Then I have to iron out every individual Thing that Lady Betty took off Overnight, even to her Gloves; and to air her clean Linen. Having then fed her Parrots and cleaned their Cages, (Pompey has the Monkey and Lapdog in Charge,) I sit down to fine Work, and have scarce set a dozen Stitches, when Lady Betty's Bell is pulled as if the Wire would crack, and her High-Heeled Slipper raps the Floor to let me know she is ready for her Chocolate. Pompey brings it up to the Door, and I carry it in, and wait on her while she drinks it. After this, she remains in Bed two Hours, sometimes sleeping, but oftener sitting up propped with Pillows, doing any Fancy-Work she is in the Humour for, getting me to thread her Needle, change her Silks, hold her Scissors, and Sometimes to read a Novel to her. If she is very late, it may chance that one of her female Cronies arrives in her Chair, runs up to tell her some Piece of Gossip, and perhaps rouses her to get up and dress in a Hurry to go to some Auction; in which Case she needs not so much two Waiting Women as twenty. But oftener, she is uninterrupted, and after wasting half the Morning, rises to waste the other half in a lengthened, capricious Toilette; trying on a dozen Things she does not mean to wear, and studying what Colours suit her Complexion. As she does not so much as put on her own Gloves herself, Madame Pompon is on hard Duty all this While, I standing by and handing her the Pins and Everything she wants. If my Lady thinks herself in good Looks, all the better for us; but if she spies out so much as a Freckle, woe unto us! we are sure to suffer for what we can't help. To put her in good Humour, Pompon flatters her to a Degree that is nauseous to me, and sometimes gets a Rebuff for her Pains: then I am set to write half-a-dozen trivial Notes to her Dictation, or perhaps the Invitations to a Rout or a Drum, which Pompey is then summoned to carry out. Then, my Work is called for to be examined; I am chidden if I have not done enough, and receive numerous Orders and Counter-Orders about it. At last, my Lady goes out in her Chair, during which Time I keep close to my Needle, and then Pompon and I dine together. Lady Betty returns, receives Visitors, and I am on Duty as Woman in waiting, to bring her Scent-Bottle, hold her Handkerchief, her Gloves, and hear the News and Gossip of the Day and a thousand Impertinences. At length my Lady dines: then I resume my Needle; then she dresses for the Evening, which is as tedious a Transaction as her Morning Toilette. Her Dressing-Room is the loveliest, most luxurious Apartment you ever saw; at first I thought it Fairy-Land, and did not mind being shut up in it; but oh, how tired I am of it now! Its Silken Draperies, polished Mirrours, Spider-Tables, Ivory Caskets, Alabaster Vases, Silver Footbath, old Porcelain, grotesque Toys and delicate Trinkets give me no more Entertainment than so much Rubbish. Elaborately dressed, she goes forth not to return till two, three, or four o'Clock in the Morning. Madame Pompon goes down Stairs to play Cards, or puts on her Calash and goes out to see her Friends, or if she stays with me, nods over a French Novel, or babbles all kinds of Nonsense while she manufactures some Piece of Finery. Meanwhile, I sew and sew at that eternal Embroidery, or try to keep myself awake with a Book, if I can find one to my Mind, till my Lady returns jaded or excited from the Ridotto, to be undressed and have hot Soup in Bed. Thus, you see, I have no Change, no Exercise; and what is worse, no Food or Medicine for the Mind; and oh, Patty! is this a Life for an accountable Creature?"
