She discovered, the first day she spent with Mrs. Cheviott, that, besides the misfortune of being blind, she had the still greater misfortune of being inordinately fond of flattery. Jessy took advantage of this foible, and imposed so far on the understanding of her patroness, that she persuaded Mrs. Cheviott into a high opinion of her judgment and prudence.
Things were in this situation when Jessy, for the first time, accompanied the blind lady to Mrs. Hungerford’s. Without having the appearance or manners of a gentlewoman, Miss Jessy Bettesworth was, notwithstanding, such a pretty, showy girl, that she generally contrived to attract notice. She caught Mr. Folingsby’s eye at dinner, as she was playing off her best airs at the side-table; and it was with infinite satisfaction that she heard him ask one of the officers, as they were going out to walk in the garden, “Who is that girl? She has fine eyes, and a most beautiful long neck!” Upon the strength of this whisper, Jessy flattered herself she had made a conquest of Mr. Folingsby; by which idea she was so much intoxicated, that she could scarcely restrain her vanity within decent bounds.
“Lord! Fanny Frankland, is it you? Who expected to meet you sitting here?” said she, when, to her great surprise, she saw Fanny in the arbour with the children. To her yet greater surprise, she soon perceived that Mr. Folingsby’s attention was entirely fixed upon Fanny; and that he became so absent he did not know he was walking upon the flower-borders.
Jessy could scarcely believe her senses when she saw that her rival, for as such she now considered her, gave her lover no encouragement. “Is it possible that the girl is such a fool as not to see that this here gentleman is in love with her? No; that is out of the nature of things. Oh! it’s all artifice; and I will find out her drift, I warrant, before long!”
Having formed this laudable resolution, she took her measures well for carrying it into effect. Mrs. Cheviott, being blind, had few amusements: she was extremely fond of music, and one of Mrs. Hungerford’s daughters played remarkably well on the piano-forte. This evening, as Mrs. Cheviott was listening to the young lady’s singing, Jessy exclaimed, “Oh! ma’am, how happy it would make you to hear such singing and music every day.”
“If she would come every day, when my sister is practising with the music-master, she might hear enough of it,” said little Gustavus. “I’ll run and desire mamma to ask her; because,” added he, in a low voice, “if I was blind, may be I should like it myself.”
Mrs. Hungerford, who was good-natured as well as polite, pressed Mrs. Cheviott to come, whenever it should be agreeable to her. The poor blind lady was delighted with the invitation, and went regularly every morning to Mrs. Hungerford’s at the time the music-master attended. Jessy Bettesworth always accompanied her, for she could not go any where without a guide. Jessy had now ample opportunities of gratifying her malicious curiosity; she saw, or thought she saw, that Mr. Folingsby was displeased by the reserve of Fanny’s manners; and she renewed all her own coquettish efforts to engage his attention. He amused himself sometimes with her, in hopes of rousing Fanny’s jealousy; but he found that this expedient, though an infallible one in ordinary cases, was here totally unavailing. His passion for Fanny was increased so much, by her unaffected modesty, and by the daily proofs he saw of the sweetness of her disposition, that he was no longer master of himself: he plainly told her that he could not live without her.
“That’s a pity, sir,” said Fanny laughing, and trying to turn off what he said, as if it were only a jest. “It is a great pity, sir, that you cannot live without me; for, you know, I cannot serve my mistress, do my duty, and live with you.”
Mr. Folingsby endeavoured to convince, or rather to persuade her, that she was mistaken; and swore that nothing within the power of his fortune should be wanting to make her happy.
“Ah! sir,” said she, “your fortune could not make me happy, if I were to do what I know is wrong, what would disgrace me for ever, and what would break my poor father’s heart!”