Chapter V
My vanity receives a desperate wound, but my heart remains unscathed—An anomaly in woman, one who despises beauty.
The next evening I left Timothy in charge, and repaired to her house; it was very respectable in outward appearance, as well as its furniture. I was not, however, shown up into the first floor, but into the room below.
"Miss Judd will come directly, sir," said a tall, meagre, puritanical-looking maid, shutting the door upon me. In a few minutes, during which my pulse beat quick (for I could not but expect some disclosure; whether it was to be one of love or murder, I hardly knew which), Miss Aramathea Judd, for such was her christian name, made her appearance, and sitting down on the sofa, requested me to take a seat by her.
"Mr Newland," said she, "I wish to—and I think I can entrust you with a secret most important to me. Why I am obliged to do it, you will perfectly comprehend when you have heard my story. Tell me, are you attached to me?"
This was a home question to a forward lad of sixteen. I took her by the hand, and when I looked down on it, I felt as if I was. I looked up into her face, and felt that I was not. And, as I now was close to her, I perceived that she must have some aromatic drug in her mouth, as it smelt strongly—this gave me the supposition that the breath which drew such melodious tones, was not equally sweet, and I felt a certain increased degree of disgust.
"I am very grateful, Miss Judd," replied I; "I hope I shall prove that I am attached when you confide in me."
"Swear then, by all that's sacred, you will not reveal what I do confide."
"By all that's sacred I will not," replied I, kissing her hand with more fervour than I expected from myself.