Laura's exultation was of short continuance. She had gone but a few steps ere she reflected that the wants which she had undertaken so painful a visit to supply were as clamant as ever, and now further than ever from a chance of relief. Mournfully she pursued her way towards the print-shop, hopelessly comparing her urgent and probably prolonged necessities with her confined resources.
The utmost price which she could hope to receive for the drawing she carried, would be far from sufficient to discharge her debt to the surgeon; and there seemed now no alternative but to confess her inability to pay, and to throw herself upon his mercy. To this measure, however, she was too averse to adopt it without reconsidering every other possible expedient. She thought of appealing to the friendship of Mrs Douglas, and of suffering Dr Flint to continue his visits till an answer from her friend should enable her to close the connection. But Mrs Douglas's scanty income was taxed to the uttermost by the maintenance and education of a numerous family, by the liberal charities of its owners, and by the hospitable spirit, which, banished by ostentation from more splendid abodes, still lingers by the fireside of a Scotch clergyman. Laura was sure that Mrs Douglas would supply her wants at whatever inconvenience to herself; and this very consideration withheld her from making application to her friend.
Laura had heard and read that ladies in distress had found subsistence by the sale of their ornaments. But by their example she could not profit; for her ornaments were few in number and of no value. She wore indeed a locket, which she had once received from her mother, with a strong injunction neither to lose nor give it away; but Laura, in her profound ignorance of the value of trinkets, attached no estimation to this one, except as the only unnecessary gift which she had ever received from her mother. 'It contains almost as much gold as a guinea,' said she, putting her hand to it, 'and a guinea will soon be a great treasure to me.' Still she determined that nothing short of extremity should induce her to part with it; but desirous to ascertain the extent of this last resort, she entered the shop of a jeweller, and presenting the locket, begged to know its value.
After examining it, the jeweller replied that he believed it might be worth about five guineas, 'for though,' said he, 'the setting is antiquated, these emeralds are worth something.'
At the mention of this sum, all Laura's difficulties seemed to vanish. Besides enabling her to pay the surgeon, it would make an addition to her little fund. With rigorous abstinence on her part, this little fund, together with the price of her incessant labour, would pay for her lodgings, and support her father in happy ignorance of his poverty, till he was able to remove to Glenalbert. Then, when he was quite well and quite able to bear it, she would tell him how she had toiled for him, and he would see that he had not lavished his fondness on a thankless child.
These thoughts occupied far less time than the recital; and yet, ere they were passed, Laura had untied the locket from her neck, and put it into the hands of the jeweller. It was not till she saw it in the hands of another, that she felt all the pain of parting with it. She asked to see it once more; as she gazed on it for the last time, tears trickled from her eyes; but speedily wiping them away, and averting her head, she restored the locket to its new owner, and taking up the money, departed.
She soon arrived at the print-shop, and finding Wilkins disengaged, produced her drawing, and asked him to purchase it. Wilkins looked at it, and inquired what price she had put upon it. 'I am quite unacquainted with its real value,' answered she, 'but the rapid sale of my work is at present such an object to me, that I shall willingly make it as cheap as possible, or allow you to fix your own price.' 'Have you any more to dispose of, Ma'am?' asked Wilkins. 'I have none finished, but I could promise you six more in a week if you are inclined to take them.' 'I think,' said Wilkins, 'after some consideration, I might venture to take them if you could afford them for half a guinea each.' 'You shall have them,' said Laura, with a sigh; 'but I think half-a-guinea rather a low—a high, I believe, I mean.—'
Laura did not at this moment exactly know what she meant; for her eyes had just rested on a gentleman, who, with his back towards her, was busied in examining a book of caricatures. She thought she could not be mistaken in the person. Only one form upon earth was endowed with such symmetry and grace; and that form was Hargrave's. He slightly turned his head, and Laura was certain.
Though Laura neither screamed nor fainted, this recognition was not made without extreme emotion. She trembled violently, and a mist spread before her eyes; but she remembered the apparently wilful desertion of her lover; and, determined neither to claim his compassion nor gratify his vanity by any of the airs of a forsaken damsel, she quietly turned away from him, and leant against the counter to recover strength and composure.
She was resolved to quit the shop the instant that she was able; and yet, perhaps she would have become sooner sensible of her recovered powers of motion, had it not been for a latent hope that the caricatures would not long continue so very interesting. No one however, accosted her; and next came the idea that Hargrave had already observed her, without wishing to claim her acquaintance. Before the mortifying thought could take a distinct form, Laura was already on her way towards the door.