“At last I was engaged as teacher to a school. I had better have taken a situation as housemaid. I was expected to be everywhere, to do everything—was up at daylight, and never in bed till past midnight: fared very badly, and was equally ill-paid—but still it was honest employment, and I remained there for more than a year; but, though as economical as possible, my salary would not maintain me in clothes and washing, which was all I required. There was a master of elocution, who came every week, and whose wife was the teacher of music. They took a great liking to me, and pointed out how much better I should be off, if I could succeed on the stage, of which they had no doubt. For months I refused, hoping still to have some tidings of you; but at last my drudgery became so insupportable, and my means so decreased, that I unwillingly consented.
“It was then nineteen months since I had heard of you, and I mourned you as dead. I had no relations except my uncle, and I was unknown even to him. I quitted the situation, and took up my abode with the teacher of elocution and his wife, who treated me with every kindness, and prepared me for my new career. Neither at the school, which was three miles from London, nor at my new residence, which was over Westminster-bridge, did I ever see a newspaper; it was no wonder, therefore, that I did not know of your advertisements. After three months’ preparation I was recommended and introduced to the manager by my kind friends, and accepted. You know the rest.”
“Well, Miss Ellen, if any one ever tells you that you were on the stage, at all events you may reply that you wasn’t there long.”
My sister had been with us about three days, during which I had informed her of all that had taken place, when, one evening finding myself alone with her, I candidly stated to her what were O’Brien’s feelings towards her, and pleaded his cause with all the earnestness in my power.
“My dear brother,” replied she, “I have always admired Captain O’Brien’s character, and always have felt grateful to him for his kindness and attachment to you; but I cannot say that I love him—I have never thought about him, except as one to whom we are both much indebted.”
“But do you mean to say that you could not love him?”
“No, I do not: and I will do all I can, Peter—I will try—I never will, if possible, make him unhappy who has been so kind to you.”
“Depend upon it, Ellen, that with your knowledge of O’Brien, and with feelings of gratitude to him, you will soon love him, if once you accept him as a suitor. May I tell him—”
“You may tell him that he may plead his own cause, my dear brother; and, at all events, I will listen to no other, until he has had fair play; but recollect, that at present I only like him—like him very much, it is true—but still I only like him.”
I was quite satisfied with my success, and so was O’Brien, when I told him.