The fille de chambre :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lappett was an experienced Abigail. She had lived
with Lady Ossiter from the time of her marriage, and
had not, without envy, beheld Rebecca introduced
into the family, as she feared she might have a gown or
two the less in a year, or, perhaps, Rebecca might

supplant her intirely. This jealousy made her resolve
to cultivate an intimacy with the unsuspecting girl, and
be the most forward in showing her civilities, that she
might win her confidence, draw from her her real opinion
concerning her Lady, and then betray her. Lappett,
when she had any favourite point to gain, could
assume a most insinuating manner. The words that fell
from her tongue were smooth, and pleasant as the river's
surface unruffled by a breeze: but like that, when
the whirlwind of passion arose, displayed the most
frightful contrast.

“And what do you think of my Lady?” said she,
as she was taking her tea in Rebecca's apartment.

“I hardly know what to think yet,” replied Rebecca.
“I never judge very hastily. She appears extremely
good natured.”

“Ah! my dear, you will know her better by and
bye; there is a deal of difference between old servants
and new ones.”

“I should be much obliged to you, Mrs. Lappett
to give me some little idea of the best method to obtain
her approbation.”

“Indeed, that is more than is in my power, child,
for what pleases to-day may displease to-morrow: I
never give myself much trouble about it. How do you
like the children?”

“They are very fine boys; but I am most pleased
with Miss Ossiter; she seems extremely mild and engaging.”

“Well, you are the first person I ever heard say
they liked her best. My lady can't bear her; she says
she is so stupid—.”

“I think it is very wrong,” said Rebecca, in the
simplicity of her heart, “for mothers to make any
distinction in their regard for their children; and I
shall consider myself doubly obliged to be kind and affectionate
to Miss, if her mamma is unkind to her.”

“It shows the goodness of your heart, my dear
ma'am,” said Lappett, beginning to see a little into
the disposition of our heroine. “But, pray, have you
seen my Lord yet?”

“Yes, once at Twickenham.”

“Well, don't you think him a vast handsome man?”

“He is well enough,” said Rebecca, carelessly;
“but Sir George Worthy is, in my opinion, a great
deal handsomer.”

“Lord Ossiter is a man of gallantry, though, I assure
you, I must tell you, but it is between ourselves, he
once made proposals to me.”

“Indeed! Well, I think, you were right to refuse
him; disproportionate marriages are seldom happy.”

“Oh! Lord, my dear, it was not for marriage, I
assure you; it was since I lived with my Lady.”

“Good heaven!” cried Rebecca, with a look of
surprise, “what since he has been married?”

“Yes; but I would not have you mention it; he
offered me three hundred a year.”

“And how could you remain in the family after
such an affront, Mrs. Lappett?”

“Why, I thought it was a pity to lose my place,
so I kept my gentleman at a proper distance, and he
dropped the pursuit: but come, ma'am, let us hurry
the nursery maid to put Miss Ossiter and the young
gentlemen to bed, and then we will go down and take
a game at cards in the housekeeper's room.”

“You will excuse me, Mrs. Lappett: I never played
a game at cards in my life; besides, my Lady has
given me some muslin to spot, and I must set about it.”

“Lord! child, you'll have enough to do if you humour
her by working of an evening.”

“It is my duty to do all that is in my power, and
I had rather work than sit still.”

“Well, then, bring down your work, you will be
moped to death sitting here by yourself.”

“Oh! dear, no, I shall not: I am never lonely.
I work very fast, and when I have done a good bit I
can take up a book and read. I would rather not go
down, if you will excuse me.”

“Just as you please, ma'am,” said Lappett; “we
shall be glad of your company, but if you prefer being
alone —.”

She courtseyed, ironically tossed her head, and left

Rebecca to the enjoyment of her own reflexions, while
she entertained her fellow servants with the pride, conceit,
and ignorance of the new comer. “I tried to get
her down amongst us, that we might have a little fun
with her,” said she, “for you would laugh to hear
how foolishly she talks. She will not stay here long,
take my word for it.”

At least Mrs. Lappett had resolved, in her own mind,
to use every exertion to displace Rebecca from a family
where, she was fearful, her beauty, innocence and worth,
would attract the notice of one, whose devoirs she considered
as entirely due to herself.

For, to own the truth, Mrs. Lappett had not been
quite so deaf to the proposals of her Lord as she had represented
to Rebecca, though she rather made a mistake
in saying his Lordship had offered a settlement,
that being a measure earnestly desired by herself, but
which she could find no means to bring Lord Ossiter
into: indeed, he had found her too easy a conquesty to
indulge a thought of putting himself to much expence
or trouble on her account.

The next morning, when Lady Ossiter had breakfasted,
she went immediately to the nursery, a thing
she had not been known to do for many months before;
but Rebecca was a novelty, and therefore demanded
from her Lady some little attention; as Rebecca had
been told that her Lady seldom, if ever, came into the
children's apartment, the visit was intirely unexpected,
and Lady Ossiter, found her busily employed in arranging
some pencils and crayons in a small, but elegant,
drawing box, which had been given her by her late
benefactress.

She arose, and apologized for the confusion her
drawings, &c. which had fallen on the floor, had made
in the apartment; “had I known your Ladyship intended
this honour,”—

“Oh! never mind, child,” cried the Lady, with
a look of infinite good humour, which no woman knew
better how to assume than Lady Ossiter; “I did not
come to disturb you, but I thought I should like you
to hear the children read.”

“Have they ever been taught their letters, Madam?”

“Why, upon my word, I cannot tell: I believe
Charles can tell them when he sees them: I have tried
him sometimes by taking up the news-paper when he
was in the room; but I do not believe Lucy or James
know any thing about it; but call them in, and let us
see what they can do.”

Rebecca, who had about two hours before seen them
all neatly dressed, and given them their breakfast, opened
the adjoining room to call them, when how great
was her surprise when she saw the eldest boy, who was
eight years old, with two or three colour-shells before
him, several brushes, and a bason of water, with which
he had not been satisfied to daub several sheets of paper,
and his own clothes, but also his brother and sister's
hands, faces, and frocks! Infinitely chagrined that
they should be seen by their mother in such a condition,
she turned mildly towards the nursery maid, and asked
“how she could be so neglectful as not to mind what
the children were doing?”

“Mind them yourself, ma'am,” was the answer:
“I thought you came here to help me, not to command
me.”

“I shall for the future mind them,” said Rebecca,
attempting to take the brushes from Master Ossiter.

“You shall not have them,” screamed he: “I will
paint when I please; mamma says I shall.”

Rebecca persisted in removing from his reach the
shells and water, when setting up a scream like a bed-lamite,
he threw one, which he had retained in his
hand, full in her face!

“What is the matter?” cried Lady Ossiter, opening
the door. “Come hither, Charles; what do they
do to you, my love?”

“She will not let me play. She has taken away my
paints, and will not let me do any thing.”

“But she shall let you do as you please,” said the
mother, kissing him, “so do not cry.”

At that moment another scream, from the inner apartment,
vibrated in her Ladyship's ears, and Master
James and Miss Ossiter came bellowing into the room,
that “the new maid would wash their faces.”

“Heaven save me,” said the Lady, “from often
visiting the nursery! You are enough to drive one mad.
I had hoped, indeed, that you, Rebecca, would have
managed them better than to have had all this uproar;
but I see servants are all alike; they have no more notion
of the management of children than natural fools:
why, I will answer for it, if I had time, I could make
these children do just as I please, without any of this
roaring. Do not you think, Charles, you would always
mind me?”

“Oh! yes, mamma; you never contradict me,
but give me every thing I want.”

“Well, go, my dear, go to Rebecca and have your
face washed, and you shall go out in the coach, and buy
some more paints. Do, child, put James and Miss
Ossiter on clean frocks, and get yourself ready to go
out with them. I will hear them read another time;
poor dears, they have been vexed enough this morning:”
then taking her favourite's hand, to lead him
out of the room, she stopped, and picked up two or
three of Rebecca's drawings.—“Here, my love,” said
she, “ask your maid to give you these pretty pictures.”

Rebecca was too meek to contradict, and he marched
off with her two best performances in his hand.

In about ten minutes a footman tapped at the door,
to inform Rebecca that the chariot waited, and that she
must go to her Lady's dressing-room for Master Ossiter.

Rebecca, who had been accustomed to peace and
regularity, was distracted by the hurry and confusion
she had been thrown into; but flattering herself it
would be better next day, she made all the haste she
could, and repaired to the dressing-room, where, on a
sofa, beside his mamma, sat the delectable Master Ossiter,
with a pair of gold-bowed scissars, cutting the
houses, trees, and figures, from her drawings, which
her Ladyship was amusing herself by placing in a kind
of fantastic medley on the table before her.

“See, Rebecca,” cried she, we have dispatched
these pretty pictures, I dare say, a deal quicker than
you made them.”

Rebecca smiled faintly; but she felt a cold chill strike

to her heart. “Alas! Lady Mary would not have
done so, sighed she, softly, as she followed the children
down stairs, and a tear started in her eye, which she
was unable to suppress.

“Drive to the toy-shop,” said Master Ossiter, as
the man shut the chariot-door, “and see what mamma
has given me,” continued he, pulling half a guinea
from his pocket, and showing it to his brother and sister:
“and I am to lay it out just as I please.”

As the chariot stopped at the shop door, a poor man,
pale and emaciated, with but one leg, took off his hat,
bowed, but did not speak.

“Look at that poor man, my dear,” said Rebecca;
“he would be very thankful for a small part of your
money; suppose you was to give him a shilling?”

“What should I give him a shilling for?” said the
child.

“Because he is in great distress; see how pale he
looks, and what a thin ragged coat he has on this cold
day!”

“Well, what is that to me?”

“Suppose, Master Ossiter, you were cold and hungry?”

“That you know is impossible.”

“Impossible! Sir.”

“Yes, to be sure; a'nt I a Lord's son, and shall
not I be a Lord myself, if I live long enough? and,
you know, Lords are never poor.”

“Then is it the more their duty to relieve those
that are.”

“Duty!” said he, staring in her face; “mamma
never gives any thing to poor folks; she says they
should be all sent to prison, and made work.”

This dialogue had passed in the shop, and the miserable
subject of it still was at the door. Miss Ossiter
put her little hand instinctively into her pocket.

“If I had any money; but mamma don't very often
give me any.” Then approaching Rebecca, in a kind
of half whisper, “If you, ma'am, will give the poor
man half a crown, I will ask my uncle for one to pay
you with the first time I see him.”

Rebecca gazed on the child as she was speaking, and
she fancied she beheld her grandmother's benevolence
play about her infant countenance.—She caught her
in her arms, gave the desired half crown, and joy for
a moment animated her bosom, when she beheld both
the beggar and his little benefactress look equally happy.