CHAPTER XXXIII. ALRINA VISITS A KIND FRIEND AND MAKES A PROPOSAL.
Alrina's cup of misery was now full to the brim. It had required but one drop more to fill it, and here it was. Her lover had deserted her—that was most certain; but she had forgiven him, and made up her mind that she would exonerate him from all his vows,—indeed, she would insist on breaking off the engagement for ever, on account of the dark mystery which hung over her family history.
But while the mystery was concealed, whatever it was, there was still a hope that it might turn out in the end that there was no mystery at all, and all might still be well. She secretly hoped this, although, in her magnanimity, she considered it her duty to exonerate her lover from all ties. But now the mystery was solved. It was no longer dark and concealed, yielding a hope, however slight, that it might have existed merely in her own imagination. It was no longer dark or mysterious. Her father had robbed Mr. Morley (her lover's brother) of a considerable sum of money, and had purloined his valuable papers, and had moreover gone to a public ball at Penzance, dressed in Mr. Morley's clothes. There was no getting over this;—there was no mystery here. All this could be fully proved,—and he had gone off, no one knew where.
What was she to do? She was left without a friend and penniless. There was the house, it was true; but she could not live there without a penny to buy food.
Squire Pendray told the sad story when he returned home; and good Mrs. Pendray went herself to Mr. Freeman's, and begged Alrina to go home with her, and live with them as one of her daughters. This kind offer Alrina respectfully declined. Mrs. Pendray then offered her a supply of money to purchase necessaries until her father's return.
"My father will never return, madam," said she, with dignity; "he cannot. And, although I thank you from my heart for your kindness, I cannot accept charity,—no, madam, I must gain my own livelihood, as many a poor girl has done before."
So the good lady, having failed of success in her good intentions, took an affectionate leave of the noble girl, begging her to reconsider her determination, and to come to her still if she altered her mind. "I shall watch over you, my dear," said the good lady at parting, "and shall get information brought me of your progress. Good bye! And may the Almighty Giver of all good watch over and protect you."
This disinterested kindness was almost overpowering. It was as much as Alrina could do to prevent herself from giving way to her feelings. She had borne her lover's supposed desertion, and the discovery of her father's disgrace without shedding a tear, or allowing anyone to discover how much she was affected by them. Now she could bear up no longer. Mrs. Pendray's kind offer of protection and charity made her feel the full force of her situation, and she returned to her room, and, throwing herself on her bed, wept bitter tears of distress, mingled with feelings of anger and wounded pride. She had been deserted, disgraced, and humiliated. Long did she remain in that state of desponding wretchedness. It was not in her nature to give way to her feelings, and weep for every trifling thing that went wrong; she had been brought up in a sterner school. But when she did give way, hers was not an ordinary fit of weeping and then over; no, when she wept, it was a terrible outbreak of pent-up feelings, like a large reservoir of water bursting its banks, and carrying all before it. Nothing could stop it, until it had spent itself out. And so it was now with Alrina;—she tossed and rolled on her bed in her agony of mind, and wept until she became exhausted, and then fell into a sound sleep, from which she awoke after some hours, refreshed and renovated both in mind and body. She bathed her eyes and face in cold water, and rearranged her hair, and sat in her chair by the side of the dressing-table, calm and dignified, and began to think of what she should do for the future.
The past was gone for her. She must leave the house at once, and lock it up, after allowing Mr. Morley to take what remained of his property.
She rang for Alice Ann, and told her her determination, and offered her some money—all she had in the world—in payment of her wages for the past few weeks. This the poor girl as indignantly but respectfully refused, as Alrina herself had refused but a few hours before the proposed kindness and protection of Mrs. Pendray.
"Why, she's maazed, I reckon," said Alice Ann, looking at her young mistress as if she were some dangerous animal; "do 'ee knaw what you're tellen' of, do 'ee?—you go out for to get your livin'—no, no,—tarry here, Miss Reeney, an' I'll tend 'ee the same as I do now, an' nevar take a penny. An' as for meat,—'where there's a will there's a way,'—we'll take in stitchen' an' sawen', I cud used to do plain work, brave an' tidy; an' you cud do the fine work. We'll get along, nevar you fear."
"It is very kind of you, Alice Ann, to offer to help me to live," replied Alrina; "but it cannot be,—I shall not remain in this house another night after what has happened, if I can possibly help it. I shall go out now for a short time, and when I return we will arrange for the future." So saying, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and went down the road, leaving Alice Ann at a loss to conjecture what she meant to do, or where she could be going in such a hurry.
"She's gone to chat it over weth somebody, I s'pose," said the girl, as she stood at the door and watched her young mistress walking quietly down the road.
Alice Ann was right in a measure. Alrina was going to chat it over with somebody, but not for the purpose of asking advice, nor by way of idle gossip. She had fully determined in her own mind what she would do; and when she had fully made up her mind to a thing it was not an easy matter to turn her from her purpose.
Mrs. Trenow's house was generally her favourite resort when she wanted a quiet chat; but, to Alice Ann's surprise, she passed that house now, and went on into the heart of the village, and she soon lost sight of her, and returned into the house to put things in order, and prepare the tea against her young mistress returned.
Alrina stopped before the door of the "Commercial" Inn as if doubtful what she should do. After a moment's hesitation, however, she walked quietly in. Mrs. Brown had been working very briskly at her needle, mending some old garment after a fashion; for she was no great hand at that sort of work,—knitting she could get on with tolerably well, because it required very little skill, and was therefore rather pleasant work. She was now sitting looking at her work with an angry brow; for, after all her trouble, she had put on the wrong piece. She had sat for several hours, stitch, stitch, at that garment, patching it up, as she thought, to look nearly as well as ever, and now all her labour was lost, for the piece must come off again;—it would never do as it was.
"Drat the old gown!" said she; "here have I be'n worken' my fingers to the bone, an' puzzlin' my brain till I'm all mizzy mazey, an' thinken' I had done a bra' job,—an' there it is."
"Send for the tailor, Peggy! send for the tailor, to be sure," said Mr. Brown from his place in the chimney-corner, from whence he seldom stirred now; for he had become feeble in body as well as in mind, since the shock he had experienced by the terrible death of his favourite mare. Mrs. Brown was very kind to him and indulged him as far as she could; but she could not help being irritated sometimes by his silly remarks; for he prematurely declined into second childhood.
"Send for a fool! and that's you, John Brown," replied his wife, testily, as she turned the garment in different directions to see if she could make it do at all, without ripping out the piece again;—but it was of no use, out it must come.
"If that lazy maid we've got here could stitch a bit tidy she wud be some help," soliloquized the old lady; "but she's no good but to scrub the floors, and tend the pigs,—she caen't draw a pint of beer fitty. And there's Grace Bastian, the only decent maid we had in the parish for to do a bit of sewing-work, she must prink herself off to Penzance too. I don't knaw what's come to the maidens, not I. Miss Reeney! how are 'ee my dear? Come in an' sit down;—why, you're quite a stranger," continued the good landlady, as she rose to place a chair for her visitor.
"Yes, I've been very much occupied since our return," replied Alrina;—"but what are you about, Mrs. Brown?—you seem to have mended your dress with a piece of a different colour. Why, here's a piece that would have matched it exactly, and, if stitched in neatly, no one would find out that it had been mended."
"That's the very thing I'm thinken' about," said Mrs. Brown. "Here have I be'n stitch, stitch, nearly all the day, putten' on that piece, an' when I had finished it I found I had put on the wrong one; but I caen't stitch any more to-day,—my head is bad already."
"Let me see," said Alrina, taking the dress, and matching the right piece on it;—"there, Mrs. Brown, that would do nicely, would it not?"
"Yes, my dear; but the thing is to stitch it in."
"Lend me your scissors, and I will soon manage it," replied Alrina. "There," continued she, as she ripped off the piece that it had taken Mrs. Brown so long to put in; "that's soon done. Now, lend me your needle and thimble,—I'll put in the piece, while we gossip a little of the latest news imported. Your thimble is too large;—haven't you a smaller one in the house?"
"I believe our maid Polly have got one somewhere," said Mrs. Brown; "I'll sarch for it."
"Poll! Poll! Polly!" said Mr. Brown, catching at the familiar sound: "come out in the stable, Polly,—the mare must want her gruel by this time. Wo! ho! Jessie, my beauty—wo! ho! mare!"
"Will you be quiet, John Brown?" said his wife, as she came downstairs with the thimble.
"Here, Miss Reeney, I s'pose this is too big for your little finger."
"Never mind, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina, who had by this time pinned on the proper piece; "I'll make this do."
The work now went on briskly—Mrs. Brown knitting, and Alrina stitching and gossipping between. While the work was going on, two miners came in, and asked for a pint of beer.
"Let me draw it, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina, putting down her work—"it will be a change of work too."
"Well, you shall if you are fancical," replied Mrs. Brown, smiling. "Take the brown jug, my dear—that's a pint exactly—and draw it out of the end cask. Blow off the froth and fill up again,—our customers don't like the jug half full of froth, I can assure you."
So Alrina drew the beer, and received the money, as if she had been accustomed to it all her life, very much to the astonishment of the two men, who seemed puzzled at being tended by Miss Reeney;—but they liked it very well, nevertheless, and ere long asked for another pint, for the sake, no doubt, of receiving it from so fair a cup-bearer.
The two men were in a little room leading out of the kitchen, so that neither party could hear distinctly the conversation of the others,—nor was there much said by either party, indeed, worth the trouble of listening to.
When the men were gone, Mrs. Brown said, "Why, I shud think you had been used to the bar all your life, to see how handy you are; and you've nearly finished the work that I wor all the day about. Your husband will have a treasure, whoever he is."
"I shall never be married, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina, with a heavy sigh.
"Iss, Iss, you'll be married fast enough, and I think I can tell his name, though I'm no conjuror, asking your pardon."
"I have not seen the man yet that I would marry," returned Alrina, with an effort.
"Oh! fie!" said Mrs. Brown; "you mustn't say so to me; I wasn't born yesterday, an' I can see a bra' way, though tes busy all, I'll allow."
"What I have told you is perfectly true," replied Alrina; "and so far from thinking of marrying, I am going to try to get my own living,—will you take me into your service?"
"My dear young lady," replied Mrs. Brown, taking off her spectacles, and looking at Alrina steadily and seriously, "you mustn't make game of your elders, nor look down with scorn upon those you may consider inferior in station to yourself,—but that remains to be proved. Take her (a boarding-school young lady) into my service! Did you hear that, John Brown?"
John Brown didn't hear that, or if he did he didn't understand it, for he made no reply.
"You seem as if you didn't understand me, Mrs. Brown," said Alrina.
"No, sure, I don't understand your meanin' at all," replied Mrs. Brown.
Alrina then related the circumstances of the morning to Mrs. Brown, whom she knew she could trust, and whose advice she knew she could rely on, for she was a shrewd intelligent woman. When she had finished her tale, Mrs. Brown took her hand, and said, "You must forgive me for my hasty speech just now. 'Tes an ugly business, but you shall never want a house to shelter you, nor a bit of morsel to eat while I have got it for you."
"You don't understand me now," said Alrina; "I will never accept charity, either in the shape of food, raiment, or shelter. What I ask you to do is this,—to take me into your service, to help you, as I have done this afternoon, for instance. I will take the burden of the house off your shoulders, and do the sewing, and attend to the bar. Poor Mr. Brown is not able to do anything now, and indeed requires more of your attention than you have time to give him, and I cannot but remember that it was in consequence of some advice given him by my father (for what reason I know not), that Mr. Brown lost his mare, and became in consequence almost imbecile; and it is my duty, if possible, to repair the injury that has been done. I cannot return the mare, nor give Mr. Brown renewed strength; but I can help you, and by that means you will have more time to devote to his little comforts. I don't want money;—I merely want a home with a respectable family, to whom I can render services sufficient to remunerate them for their kindness, without having the feeling that I am maintained merely out of charity. Now do you understand what I mean?"
"I do," replied Mrs. Brown, "and it shall be as you wish, and I shall always respect and honour you for the noble and independent way in which you have acted."
This being settled, Alrina went back to her father's house, to inform Alice Ann of what she had done; and, having arranged with Mrs. Brown that Alice Ann should sleep at her house also for a night or two, she locked up the house where so many evil deeds had been performed, and took up her residence at the "Commercial" Inn, as barmaid and general superintendent of the stitchery of the household.