University of Virginia Library

10. CHAP. X.
DISAPPOINTMENT.

Sir George had not really determined in his own
mind whether he would address Rebecca on an honourable
score, or merely endeavour to gain her affections,

and then act as he should find, from her manner
and dispositiou, she deserved.

That day and the next he waited patiently in the
hope of seeing her; but on the third, when Harley
returned, (for Lady Mary did not bring her home till
that time) how great was his surprise and disappointment
to hear that Rebecca had been sent for into the
country to a relation that was ill; for Mrs. Littleton's
letter arriving the day following Rebecca's departure,
it served as a sufficient apology for her absence, though
indeed, Lady Mary did not think proper to enter into
explanations with her woman, and rather misled her,
by mentioning Bristol as the place where Rebecca's
sick friend was.

Though Sir George had previously informed his mother
that he thought of accompanying her into Lincolnshire,
he no sooner heard that the object of his
pursuit had taken a different route than he determined
to pursue her.

“I have thought better of it,” said he to her Ladyship;
“I shall not visit my tenants this year, for I
have several engagements in town which I cannot well
get off: besides, I had forgot that I had promised a
friend of mine to accompany him to Bath.”

“Ah! cried Lady Mary, exultingly to herself, “my
good George, your journey will be in vain.”

In a few days Sir George left Twickenham, and immediately
set out with post horses for Bristol, where
both himself and Le Brun were extremely diligent in
their inquiries, though the reader may easily imagine
to how little effect: however, he still continued, and
nourished the hope, that chance would, by some means
or other, discover to him the residence of the fair Rebecca,
for as he could not suppose the situation of her
friend very splendid, he thought it needless to inquire
for her among people of fashion; but he desired his valet
to be very minute in examining every house where they
let lodgings.

Three weeks had now elapsed since Rebecca's departure,
and Lady Mary was preparing to visit Lincolnshire,
when, as she was conversing with her daughter,

Lady Ossiter, one morning, she was suddenly
seized with a fainting fit, which was succeeded by several
others, and left her so weak and low, that the
faculty called in thought her life in imminent danger.

Alarmed at this intelligence, she desired Harley to
write immediately for Rebecca to return, and, calling
for pen and ink, determined no longer to delay making
the poor girl independent; but when she took the pen
and attempted to write, her faintness returned, and she
was totally unable to execute her purpose; but resolved
to do something for her, she called Lady Ossiter to her,
and thus addressed her:

“There is a young woman, of the name of Littleton,
who has been with me some months, though now she
is in the country. She is of a sweet disposition, and
it was my intention to leave her at my death a thousand
pounds. I request you, my child, to pay her this sum,
as soon as you conveniently can, after my decease, and
also give her my watch, a small picture set with pearls,
and this ring, taking one from her finger. I hope she
will arrive time enough to be informed from my own
mouth of my intentions in her favour; but should she
not, I trust, you will not be neglectful of the desire
of a dying mother.”

It was with great difficulty, and many interruptions,
that Lady Mary made known to her daughter this her
request. Lady Ossiter promised obedience; but, alas!
Lady Ossiter seldom remembered her promise, however
sacredly given. It was impossible to give Sir George
notice of his mother's danger, for no one knew where
he was.

Lady Mary continued tolerably composed all that
night; but the next day her fits returned, and she
expired in the evening.

When Rebecca received the news of her benefactress's
illness she flew to Audley Park. James was still there.
“Your Lady is very ill, James,” said she; “I must
set off immediately for Twickenham.”

“And I will attend you, Miss,” said James, eagerly.
“Only say when you will like to set off, and I will
order the chaise.”

“I will go the moment you can procure one,” said
she. “I thought you would go with me, James, and,
indeed, I should be afraid to take such a journey by
myself; but do not order a horse, my good James;
we shall travel faster if you ride in the chaise with me.
I could not bear to have you hurrying after me on
horseback.”

James had lived with Lady Mary from the day of
her marriage. He had served his mistress with the truest
fidelity, and the tears gushed from his aged eyes when
he heard of her danger.

When Mrs. Littleton sound Rebecca was determined
to obey Harley's summons, she conceived it was a high,
an unpardonable breach of filial duty, for her to think
of leaving a mother in so early a state of widowhood.

“You give me a great proof of your affection, Miss,”
cried she, scornfully, “to leave me in so much affliction,
and fly post haste after strangers: however, we shall
see who is most worthy your attentions by and bye. I
suppose, when my Lady is tired of you again, you
will be glad enough then to return to your mother.”

Though Rebecca was greatly hurt by these unjust
reproaches, it did not prevent her intended journey,
and she set off that evening attended by James, and,
indeed, in her own mind, firmly resolved, that nothing
but absolute necessity should ever oblige her again to
visit Lincolnshire, except it was in the company of Lady
Mary.

It was late in the evening when she arrived at Twickenham.
The sad countenance of the domestic who
opened the door, led her presaging heart to fear the
worst.

Harley met her in the hall, pressed her hand in silence,
and proceeded to light her to her usual apartment.

Rebecca hardly dared breathe as she went up stairs;
as she past her Lady's dressing-room, she stopped,
looked earnestly at Harley, and, laying her hand on
her heart, cried:

“Tell me the truth:” but her respiration became so
difficult she could not finish the sentence.

“All is over,” said Harley.

“I feared so,” cried Rebecca; then turning into
her own room, she sunk on the bed in a state of stupid
insensibility, from whence it was difficult to rouse her.

Harley used her utmost endeavours, and at length
succeeded. Rebecca raised her clasped hands to heaven,
exclaimed, “Thy will be done,” and the salutary
drops of sorrow gushed in a torrent from her eyes!
Harley was pleased to see them flow, and imagining to
leave her to the free indulgence of them would be best,
retired to inform Lady Ossiter (who had not yet left
Twickenham) that Rebecca was arrived.

“I will see her in the morning,” said her Ladyship,
carelessly. “Take her with you, Harley, to the
house-keeper's room.”

“She is in her own apartment, Madam. She never
associated with even the upper servants.”

“Oh! she is quite the fine Lady I suppose. How
could you endure the creature's pride, Harley?”

“I never discovered that she had any, Madam. She
is the meekest being in existence.”

“My mother used to say she was handsome,” cried
her Ladyship, looking in the glass.

“I believe every one thought her so who looked at
her. Sir George was greatly struck with her, though
he saw her but once.”

“Well, so much the better; I suppose he will take
the trouble of providing for her off my hands; eh,
Harley, don't you think so?”

“Indeed, Madam, I have often thought Miss Littleton
would one day be Lady Worthy.”

“Woman!” said Lady Ossiter, turning hastily round,
with a look of the utmost contempt, “how could such
an idea enter your mind? Lady Worthy, indeed! No,
I think George knows better than that; he may, perhaps,
make her his mistress: but go, good woman, go,
you have made me quite sick by the horrid suggestion.”

“Poor Rebecca,” said Harley, softly, as she left
her imperious Lady: “Poor girl, you will see a sad
change I fear. You have lost your best friend, and so
we have all, indeed; for though my late dear Lady
was proud she never wanted humanity.”