Absorbed in the reflections and sorrow this letter gave rise to, she remained in her seat till Mrs. Macpherson’s little girl suddenly appeared before her, and said her mistress had made tea, and was wondering what kept her out so long.
Amanda instantly arose, and carefully putting up the letter, returned to the house, where she found Mrs. Macpherson in a very bad humor. She grumbled exceedingly at Amanda’s staying out so long, and taking notice of her eyes being red and swelled, said, “indeed, she believed she was right in supposing she had got a love-letter.” Amanda made no reply, and the evening passed away in peevishness on one side and silence on the other.
The charm which had hitherto rendered Amanda’s situation tolerable was now dissolved, as Mrs. Dermot had said she could write but seldom, and scarcely expected to have anything interesting to relate. She would gladly, therefore, have left Mrs. Macpherson immediately, but she knew not where to go. She resolved, however, ere winter had entirely set in, to request Mrs. Dermot to look out for some other place for her: as she had connections in Scotland, she thought she might recommend her to them as a governess, or a fit person to do fine works for a lady. She rose long before her usual hour the next morning, and wrote a letter expressive of her wishes and intentions to Mrs. Dermot, which she sent by a poor man, who lived near the house, to the post-town, rewarding him liberally for his trouble.
[CHAPTER XLIII.]
“Who knows the joys of friendship, The trust, security and mutual tenderness, The double joys, where each is glad for both; Friendship, our only wealth, our last retreat and strength, Secure against ill-fortune and the world?”—Rowe.
Among Mrs. Macpherson’s pupils were two little girls, who pleased and interested Amanda greatly. Their father, for whom they were in mourning, had perished in a violent storm, and their mother had pined in health and spirits ever since the fatal accident. The kindness with which Amanda treated them, they repaid with gratitude and attention. It had a double effect upon their little hearts, from being contrasted with the sour austerity of Mrs. Macpherson. They told Amanda, in a whisper, one morning, that their mamma was coming to see their dear, good Frances Donald.
Accordingly, in the course of the day, Mrs. Duncan came. She was young and pleasing in her appearance; her weeds and deep dejection rendered her a most interesting object. She sat by Amanda, and took an opportunity, while Mrs. Macpherson was engaged with some of the children, to tell her, in a low voice, “she was truly obliged to her for the great attention and kindness she showed her little girls, so unlike their former treatment at the school.” “The task of instructing them was hers,” she said, “till her declining health and spirits rendered her no longer able to bear it.” Amanda assured her, “it was a pleasure to instruct minds so docile and sweet tempered as theirs.” Mrs. Duncan, as she rose to depart, asked her and Mrs. Macpherson to tea that evening, which invitation was instantly accepted by Mrs. Macpherson, who was extremely fond of being sociable everywhere but in her own house. Mrs. Duncan lived at but a little distance, and everything in and about her house was neat and comfortable. She had an old neighbor in the parlor, who kept Mrs. Macpherson in chat, and gave her an opportunity of conversing freely with Amanda. She remarked the delicacy of her looks, and said “She believed she was ill-qualified to endure so fatiguing a life as her present one.” She mentioned her own lonely and melancholy life, and the happiness she would derive from having such a companion, and expressed her hopes of often enjoying her society. Amanda said this would be impossible without disobliging Mrs. Macpherson; and Mrs. Duncan, on reflection, allowed it would be so. She then inquired if she ever walked? Amanda replied she did; and was asked where she generally rambled? By the sea-side, she answered. Mrs. Duncan sighed deeply, and her eyes filled with tears. “It is there I generally ramble too,” said she. This led to the mention of her late loss. “Mr. Duncan had been the kindest, best of husbands,” she said; “the first years of their marriage were attended with difficulties, which were just removed, when he was lost on a party of pleasure, with several others. It was some consolation, however,” continued Mrs. Duncan, “that the body was cast upon the shore, and I had the power of paying the last rites of decency and respect to him.” In short, between her and Amanda there appeared a mutual sympathy, which rendered them truly interesting to each other. From this period they generally met every evening, and passed many hours on the “sea-beat shore,” talking, and often weeping, over joys departed, never to return! Mrs. Duncan was too delicate to inquire into Amanda’s former situation; but was well convinced it had been very different from her present one. Amanda, however, of her own accord, told her what she had told Mrs. Macpherson respecting herself. Mrs. Duncan lamented her misfortunes; but since she had met them, blessed the happy chance which conducted her near her habitation.
A month passed in this manner, when one evening, at the usual place of meeting, Mrs. Duncan told her, “that she believed she should soon be quitting that part of the country.” Amanda started, and turned pale at this disagreeable intelligence. She had received no answer to her letter from Mrs. Dermot, consequently dreaded that necessity would compel her to remain in her present situation, and on Mrs. Duncan’s society she had depended for rendering it bearable to her.