CHAPTER XI.

_The Old Angel._

I do not much like to look back on that Time:--I was under a Cloud; a very dark one; and saw, heard, and felt Everything under its Shadow. I did not seem to love _Prue_ much, nor to believe she loved me; I took Pleasure in Nothing, and did Nothing well.

I wonder, now, how I could have been so silly. I am very glad People could not see into my Heart, nor guess what was passing in my tossed and fretted Mind. Oh! if our Neighbours sometimes lay to our Charge Things that we know not, how often might they lay to our Charge Things that they know not! They think us on good and pleasant Terms with them, maybe, when we are full of Envy, Jealousy, and Suspicion. They utter the careless Word and laugh the cheerful Laugh, little guessing that their lightest Look, Word and Tone are being weighed in a Balance.

I suppose my troubled Mind tinctured a Letter I wrote, at about this Time, to _Gatty_; for in her Reply to it, which followed very quickly, she said:

"I think I can see by your Writing that you are not well, nor in good Spirits. How earnestly do I wish, dear Mrs. _Patty_, you would come down to us here, and try the effect of a little Change. Yours is a very toilsome, anxious Life, though you carry it off so well; always afoot, always thinking of others! But this may be overdone, and I think you have overdone it now; so come down, pray, before you get any worse. You know your Way to the _Old Angel_, dear _Patty_! and though the Days are so very short now and the Weather cold, the Roads are in fine Order and you shall have a warm Fireside. My _Mother_ will be more joyed to see you than I can express, and so will my _Brothers_ and _Sisters_, and I need not say how acceptable your Company will be to me! My Month's Holiday is up, and I have writ to Lady _Betty_; but she returns no Answer, and perhaps considers me no longer her Servant. I cannot say I shall fret much if it prove so; but the Fact must shortly be ascertained; as in that Case I must seek another Service. How I should like to go to that reverend, comfortable old Mrs. _Arbuthnot_! Perhaps, when I send her Aprons, I might write a respectful Line, saying I am in want of a Situation. Hers would be a vastly different Service, I fancy, from my Lady _Betty's_. And yet, do you know, that strange _Sister_ of mine, _Pen_, is certain she should like to live with my _Lady_! Dear Mrs. _Patty_, I must abruptly conclude, as we are preparing to spend the Evening at _Roaring House_. It is a good Step, and there will be no Moon, but we shall do well with Lantern and Pattens, and are not fear'd at _Hob-Goblin_.

"I depend on your coming, so name the Day; and wrap up very warm, or else come inside the Coach. Tell the Coachman to set you down at the Mile-Stone, just before he reaches the _Green Hatch_; and we will be there to meet you. There have been no Highway Robberies these three Weeks, and only one Overturn, so don't be afraid."

"Your Affectionate,

"GERTRUDE BOWERBANK."

"_Roaring House_," slowly repeated my _Father_, knocking the Ashes out of his Pipe, when I had read him the greater Part of this Letter. "It must be a very queer Place, I think, that has such a queer Name.... A roaring House!--hang it if I should like to live in it!--A House that roars, or that has been accustomed to roar, very likely in the old Days of the roaring Cavaliers!--A monstrous queer Name indeed!--Aye, aye, many a Hogshead of strong Ale has been swilled in its great, rambling Kitchen by roaring Boys, I warrant ye--A great, rambling, scrambling, shambling House, with Doors and Casements loose on their Hinges, that creak in the Wind, and with loose Tiles on the great gabled Roofs, and Swallows' Nests in the great, windy Chimneys, and creaking Boards in the uneven Floors and rotten old Staircases, and dark Corners, and dark Cup-Boards, and windy Key-Holes and winding Passages. That's my Notion of _Roaring House_."

"Is that where _Gatty_ lives?" said _Prudence_ heedlessly.

"No, where she was going to drink Tea; with Lantern and Pattens," said my _Father_--"Didn't you hear _Patty_ read? Ha! Time was, I wouldn't have minded being her Foot-Boy."

"But, _Patty_," said my dear _Mother_ anxiously, "she does not think you are well, Love. Do you wish to go to _Larkfield_?"

"Why, certainly, _Mother_, it would be a great Treat; only I don't see how I could well be spared."

"Oh, we can spare you well enough," cries _Prudence_; "you won't be missed!"

"Thank you," said I abruptly; and thought I would not go.

"We will manage to spare you very well, my dear Love," said my dear _Mother_--"We will contrive so that you shall not be missed."

Just the same Thing, only said how differently! I thought I _would_ go. A kind Word spoken in Season, oh! how good is it!

In short, I decided to go, for I felt I wanted a Change; and I was hourly in dread of saying in my present irritable State, something to _Prudence_ which I should afterwards be bitterly sorry for. I saw she wanted me to go; I knew she _could_, if she _would_, supply my Place for a little While; and I hoped after a short Absence to return with a new Set of Ideas, and find all Things straight.

So I wrote to _Gatty_, to name my Day, and began to pack up. When Mr. _Fenwick_ heard I was going, he looked very much surprised; but said Nothing. I was glad of the one and the other. I liked his being surprised, and I liked his making no common-place Speeches. In the mean Time, he had, I knew, addressed a Letter to Mr. _Caryl_; and I found, rather unexpectedly, he had got an Answer;--in this Way.

I had carried up his Chocolate, and found him with his Elbow on the Mantel-Piece, and his Thumb and Fore-Finger pinching his Chin very hard, while he frowned anxiously over a Billet he was reading.

"This is very strange,--very provoking!" cried he, looking round to me for Sympathy--"I don't know why I should trouble you to hear about it, Mrs. _Patty_, but I am vexed!"

"I should like to hear about it if you please, Sir," said I quietly.

"Why,--the Matter is this. I sent Something I had been writing,--Something I had taken a good deal of Pains with,--to Mr. _Paul Caryl_. He seemed a good deal pleased with it, took it up quite warmly, promised to put it in Train for me and give it his Patronage. A long Interval has ensued, without Anything coming of it; at length I venture to write him a gentle Reminder; and he, with a hundred thousand Protestations and Apologies, writes to say that 'how to excuse himself he knows not, but the plain Fact is, a Spark falling on my Manuscript, has utterly consumed it.'"

"I don't believe it!" cried I with sudden Passion, "I don't believe one Word of it!"

"Why, it's hard to believe--" begins Mr. _Fenwick_ with an aggrieved Air.

"It's not to be believed!" interrupted I vehemently; "it's a Falsehood, if ever one was told! A trumped up, vamped up Story!"

"Hush, Mrs. _Patty_--"

"No, Sir, I can't hush, I know it's as I say: I'm sure of it! Oh, the Meanness!--"

"My dear _Patty_!--"

"It's abominable, Sir! _He_, call himself a _Gentleman_?"

"My dear _Patty_, you quite astound me by the Vehemence of your Sympathy. I can't tell you how gratefully I feel it. But your undue Warmth makes me see my own in its proper Light--I was feeling this Matter too much. It is mortifying enough, I must own, but I dare say what he tells me is true...."

"Not a Word!"

"And whether true or not, the Loss to _me_ is the same--I shall never see my Manuscript again--"

"If I were the _King_ or the _Lord Mayor_, you should!--"

"Pooh, pooh! what, when it's _burnt_?"

"Burnt or unburnt; or he should go to _Newgate_; that he should!"

"No, no, _Patty_; Kings and Lord Mayors don't send Poets to _Newgate_, for being careless of other Poets' Papers. You make me laugh at my own Annoyance, you caricature it so! I have quite cleared up, now--I shall not think of it again; unless with a Smile. But I heartily thank you for your warm Sympathy, dear _Patty_!"

"Ah, Sir!--"

"Yes, _Patty_, for your acceptable, your _salutary_ Sympathy."

And he cordially pressed my Hand. I withdrew it, and slipped away; but with a Feeling of Consolation and Complacence to which my lone Heart had of late been a Stranger. I wiped away a Tear, and went to pack my Box.

"In a brotherly sort of Way," thought I; "he regards me kindly. Nothing more."

Oh! what awful Work it is, when Sisters are jealous of one another! The nearer the Heart, the greater the Smart. The closer the Kin, the greater the Sin. My Heart was in that State, that the least Injury, real or supposed, made me ready to cry out; and yet I must look out jealously for new Injuries, as if I had not enough already. As for _Prue_, she was in a most unpleasant Humour, snappish and reckless, or merry and unfeeling: laughing twice as much as there was Need, at the merest Trifle; or requiring to be spoke to twice before she heard or made Answer. There was no Confidence between us now; and if she had made any Approach to it, I should have started away from it. I was glad when she was going about, Sightseeing, with _Tom_; for, as she truly said, she was so soon to have all the Work to do, that she might as well take her Pleasure while she could: only it was not spoken kindly. As for _Tom_, he had been Home and back again: he had taken down his Monkey to his Mother, but had soon got tired, I fancy, of country Quiet, (which, he said, was as dull as a Roari-torio,) so made an Excuse to run up to Town again on some sea-faring Business. However, he had only left Home for a few Days, and meant to return to it as soon as he had squired me to the _Old Angel_; though I told him I had not the least Need of his Protection, and wanted Nobody but _Peter_ to go with me. He would not have it so; but got up some Hours before Light, brisk as a Lark, to see me off, like a good-tempered Fellow as he was. He talked all Sorts of Rhodomontade by the Way, that amused me in spite of myself; and, just as we got to the Inn-yard, asked me how often I thought he had been in Love.

"Never once," said I.

"Then, there you're quite out," said he, "for I've been in Love four Times." Here a Man ran against him with a _Box_. "You might have put out my Eye," says _Tom_ to him; "however, as you didn't, it's no Matter." Here we got to the Booking-office, and waited there while the dirty old Coach was being washed.

"Four Times," repeated _Tom_, returning to his Subject, "and I'll tell you who with."

"Oh no," said I, "pray spare me!"

"You don't guess the Name of the last, then," says he with a roguish Air.

"_Patty Honeywood_," doubtless, said I.

"You're not so far out, then," says he, bursting out laughing.

"Hush, _Tom_! People will hear you...."

"Well, and what if they do?"

"Why, I shan't put much Faith in your Passion, if you talk and laugh so openly about it."

"Ah," says he, "perhaps I may feel as much as Fellows that are more affected."

Here we got shoved about a good deal by People coming into the Office. At length, the Horn began to blow and the Bell to clang over our Heads. _Tom_ put me inside the Coach, within which was as yet only an old Lady in a red Cardinal. Then he stood on the Step, and kept talking to me through the Window. "Yes," says he, "the Letters P. H. are indelibly tattooed on me. Why won't you give a Fellow a little Encouragement to live upon while you're away?" Here he screwed up his Face into a very mysterious Expression, as much as to say, "The old Gentlewoman can't understand me," and the next Moment was showing his good white Teeth from Ear to Ear in a broad Smile.

"They've slued up your Box now," says he, "and are getting under weigh. There's a blue _Peter_ to the Fore."

"What's that?" said I.

"Why, the _Admiral's_ Flag clapped to the Foremast, for sailing Orders. What I mean now, is, that your Man _Peter_, looking Blue with Cold, is standing at the Fore Horse's Head, and staring, as well he may, at the Postilion. Well, you won't carry much Ballast this Time. There are some Barrels of Oysters in the Hold, going down to Country Cousins that have sent up Geese and Turkeys."

"Dear me! I wish I had thought of a Barrel of Oysters," said I.

"Too late now!" said _Tom_. "But yet, if you wish it, I'll make a Rush for them, and come up with you along the Road. You won't make more than three Knots an Hour. Shall I?"

"Oh no, thank you. It's too late now."

"Better late than never. And apply that to me on the Present Occasion. Come, accept me! Arn't I a very good Boy, for a Sailor? You've never seen me smoke, nor drink, nor fight, nor get my Pockets picked, nor use any uncomfortable Expressions. Oh no, I can't bear to put People to the least Inconvenience. Here I am, going, going, going,--say gone!"

"Gone!" said I; and he was off the next Moment.

"A light-hearted young Sailor," says the old Gentlewoman smiling, "I shouldn't think many young Ladies would say 'No' to the Offer he made you."

The Jumbling of the Coach over the rough Stones precluded the Need of an Answer. For some Time we journeyed in the Dark; when Daylight came, I was able to amuse myself with passing Objects; and though the Cold was severe, I liked Travelling very well. We stopped to dine at Twelve o'Clock; there was a great, raw Leg of boiled Mutton, which the old Lady said was bad Meat badly killed and badly cooked. She said, however, that Travelling was improved since her young Days, when the Coach was three Days going from _London_ to _Exeter_, and halted to observe the Sabbath on the Road. We safely reached the appointed Spot just before Dark, where _Gatty_, all Smiles and Cordiality,--and a healthy, honest-looking Boy, her Brother, were awaiting me. My Luggage was so light, we carried it between us, laughing and talking as we trudged along to _Gatty's_ Home; which I found what she called "a good Step."