But how could I forewarn my patroness of her danger? Could I tell her, not only that one day's acquaintance with her son had sufficed me to make the conquest, but, which was still less selon les règles, to discover that I had made it? I dared not brave the smile which would have avenged such an absurdity. After some consideration, I took my resolution. I determined to introduce myself the next day to Mrs St Clare, who, I imagined, would not long leave her sister-in-law in ignorance of my personal attractions; for I have often observed, that we ladies, while we grudge to a beauty the admiration and praise of the other sex, generally make her amends by the sincerity and profuseness of our own.
'And if her description alarm Mrs Murray,' thought I; 'if it deter her from admitting me under the roof with her son, what then is to become of me?—What will my pretty features do for me then?—What have they ever done for me, except to fill my ears with flatteries, and my mind with conceit, and the hearts of others with envy and malice. Maitland, indeed,—but no—it was not my face that Maitland loved. Rather to the pride of beauty I owe that wretched spirit of coquetry by which I lost him. And now this luckless gift may deprive me of respectable protection and subsistence. Surely I shall at last be cured of my value for a bauble so mischievous—so full of temptation—so incapable of ministering either to the glory of God or the good of man!' Ah, how easy it is to despise baubles while musing by fire-light in a solitary chamber!
The evening passed in solitude, but not in weariness; for I was not idle. I spent the time in writing to Mrs Murray, and in giving to my friend Dr —— an account of my voyage, and of my disappointment. The hour soon came which I now habitually devoted to the invitation of better thoughts, the performance of higher duties; and thanks be to Heaven, that neither human converse, nor human protection, nor ought else that the worldly can enjoy or value, is necessary to the comfort of that hour!
The next day Murray came early, under pretence of enquiring how I was satisfied with my accommodation; and I was pleased that the mission which he had undertaken to Mrs St Clare, gave me a pretext for being glad to see him. I know not what excuse he could make for a visit of three hours long; but my plea for permitting it was the impossibility of ordering him away. He left me, however, at last; and, more convinced than ever that his mother would do well to dispense with my services, I went to present myself to Mrs St Clare.
Arrived at her house, I was ushered into the presence of a tall, elderly, hard-favoured gentlewoman; who, seated most perpendicularly on a great chair, was employed in working open stitches on a French lawn apron. I cannot say that her exterior was much calculated to dispel the reserve of a stranger. Her figure might have served to illustrate all the doctrines of the acute angle. Her countenance was an apt epitome of the face of her native land;—rough with deep furrow and uncouth prominence, and grim with one dusky uniformity of hue. As I entered, this erect personage rose from her seat, and, therefore, almost necessarily advanced one step to meet me. I offered some apology for my intrusion. From a certain rustle of her stiff lutestring gown, I guessed that the lady made some gesture of courtesy, though I cannot pretend that I saw the fact.
'Mr Murray, I believe, has been so good as to mention me,' said I.
The lady looked towards a chair; and this I was obliged to accept as an invitation to sit down.
'I have been particularly unfortunate in missing Mrs Murray,' said I.
'Hum!' returned the lady, with a scarcely perceptible nod; and a pause followed.
'She left Scotland very unexpectedly.'