University of Virginia Library

16. CHAP. XVI.
MODERN MANNERS.

A Few days after this Lady Ossiter sent for Rebecca,
in haste, to her dressing-room. “You
seem to have some taste for drawing child,” said she,
“pray can you paint flowers.”

“A little, madam.”

“Well, now I want you to do something for me;
I last night saw the most beautiful painted trimming,
and I'll take you to a shop this morning where you shall
see some like it; if you think you can do it, I shall
be vastly pleased, for there is a ball next week.”

“But your ladyship is in mourning,” said Rebecca,
blushing for her lady's folly.

“Oh, la! well, I protest I forgot that, but now,
I dare say you could fancy me something pretty in
black and white; do try child: I shall change my
mourning in about a month, and I think you can do
it in that time.”

“If I knew what would please your Ladyship.”

“Do it according to your own taste, Rebecca, and
I am sure it will be pretty.”

The good natured Rebecca was willing to please to
the utmost of her power, but, alas, that power was far
from adequate to the many tasks imposed upon her.
Mrs. Lappett was a great favourite, therefore often
asked leave to go out, and then Rebecca was summoned
to attend the toilette of her lady, and indeed her taste
and judgment in the arrangement of female ornaments

was so elegant, that Lady Ossiter never appeared to
greater advantage than when dressed by her hands.

Then was a morning cap to be made, or a dress fresh
trimmed, they were all brought to Rebecca; and did
her Ladyship ever ask for any thing that was not ready,
the answer was, indeed, my Lady, I gave it to Rebecca,
two or three days ago, but she is such a fine
lady, and spends so much time at her book and her music.

In the mean time our fair heroine was sacrificing her
health to the vain hope of obtaining the approbation
of her lady, she had not a moment for the most trifling
relaxation; obliged to rise early, on account of the
children, for the very nursery maid imposed upon her
good nature, and left her entirely to dress and undress
them. Mrs. Lappett would, if in the least indisposed,
retire to rest, and leave Rebecca to sit up for her lady,
who was addicted to the fashionable vice of gaming,
and often was from home till four, five, nay sometimes
fix o'clock in the morning; and when she had ill luck,
would return in the most diabolical humour, and vent
that spleen which politeness obliged her to conceal in
company, on her meek unoffending attendant; indeed
to such height did she often suffer her passion to rise,
that Rebecca, on hearing the knocker announce her
arrival, would fall into such a fit of trembling, that she
was scarcely able to stand, while she undressed her.

But the reader must not suppose that, during this period,
either Sir George or Lord Ossiter had forgot her; the
former had written her several letters, which she returned
unopened; for, said she, conscious as I am of my
own weakness, why should I wilfully expose it to trials
it may not be able to withstand. At length, wearied
out with her inflexible resolution, he determined to
take a trip to the continent, and endeavour to banish
her from his thoughts; but before he went, he determined
at least to put it in her power to leave his sister
whenever her situation became painful, without being
obliged to have recourse to servitude again. And Mrs.
Harley was the person he determined to employ on this
occasion.

Lord Ossiter had made frequent attempts to see and
converse with Rebecca, but she was so much in the apartment
with the children, or in her lady's dressing
room, with Lappett, that he found it more difficult
than he at first imagined, and he was too cautious in
his affairs of gallantry to use pen and paper.

Lord and Lady Ossiter were a very fashionable couple;
they had married without affection, because their friends
thought they were exactly suitable for each other in
birth and fortune; his Lordship had always kept up a
show of politeness towards his wife, seldom contradicted
her or complained of her expences, though in his
heart he despised her pride and affectation, and laughed
at her absurdity. He knew her well enough, to be
certain his honour was perfectly safe in her keeping, not
from a conviction of her principles being just or her virtue
impregnable, but he was fully sensible that self-love
was her prevalent passion, and though she was distractedly
fond of admiration, her heart was animated by
none of those sensibilities which, though they in general
elevate the female mind, not unfrequently lay it
open to the greatest errors.

One morning, as Rebecca was intently engaged in
completing the trimming we have mentioned, Mrs.
Harley unexpectedly entered the room.

A faint gleam of pleasure animated the countenance,
and beamed from the eyes of Rebecca, as she arose to
receive this faithful servant of Lady Mary's.

“Mrs. Harley,” said she, taking her cordially by
the hand, “to what am I to attribute this unexpected
pleasure.”

Struck with her palid cheeks and altered air, Harley
first brushed off a starting tear and then disclosed her
errand—

“I come, my dear Miss, from my good young
master—”

“If to bring me a letter,” said Rebecca, interrupting
her, “I must beg you to excuse me—”

“My dear child,” said Harley, “don't fly out in
this manner, but listen to me attentively; I have children
of my own, Miss Littleton, and heaven forbid I

should ever advise a young innocent creature to a wrong
step; trust me, I am actuated only by friendship, when
I entreat you to inform me what motives you have for
thus obstinately refusing the offers of a man of rank and
fortune, who loves you honourably and sincerely.”

“Do not ask me, dear Harley; do not let us talk
on this subject.”

“We will talk on no other then, for sure I am
there must be some powerful reason for your conduct.
Is your heart otherways engaged? Does want of fortune
prevent your happiness?”

“Ah, no! no! my friend,” cried Rebecca, her
head falling on Harley's shoulder, and her eyes filling
with tears; I am unhappy because I am not insensible.”

“You talk in riddles, my dear; if you are not insensible—”

“Oh, stop! stop! you must say no more, unless
you mean to break my heart; for, alas, Harley, the
last time I saw my dear departed Lady Mary, I promised
her, solemnly promised her, by every hope of
selicity, never to listen to an overture of love from Sir
George; and never, no never, while I retain the least
remembrance of what is past, will I break a vow so
solemnly given.”

“This family pride,” said Harley, “was the only
foible my lady had.”

“She had no foible,” said Rebecca; “it was a
wish to insure my felicity alone, prompted the request.”

“Whatever was her motive, my dear Miss, promises
when once made should be sacredly observed; I will
therefore say no more to you on the subject: Sir
George, since satisfied you will not accept his offers, is
resolved next Monday to leave England.”

Rebecca turned pale, and Harley continued.

“He means to spend the winter on the continent,
but has desired you will accept his mother's picture,
which he has had fresh set on purpose for you, and this
trifle, laying a bank note for five hundred pounds on
the table. Now I will have no qualms and squeamish
nonsense, Miss Littleton; I am certain my lady meant

to have provided for you—more shame for some folks that
they forget her last commands; but we cannot always
make people do as they ought. Now, you must take this
money, and consider it as her bequest. I am sure you will
find it necessary very soon to quit this family; your dear
pale cheeks and heavy eyes tell me you should at this moment
be in your bed, rather than at work.” She then
drew out the picture, which was only set in plain gold.

Rebecca took it, pressed it to her lips, and, tying the
ribbon that was fixed to it round her neck, placed it as a
sacred deposit in her bosom. She also took the bank note
and put it in her pocket book, but secretly resolved that
nothing but the severst necessity should tempt her to
break into it.

When Monday arrived, Rebecca could not avoid approaching
the window at the sound of every carriage that
drew up to the door.

“He will not surely leave England,” said she, “without
taking leave of his sister.”

About two o'clock she saw his chariot draw up to the
door, and, half concealing herself behind the window
shutter, gazed on him, and breathed a prayer for his felicity,
as she saw him alight. In about half an hour she
was desired to bring Miss Ossiter and Master James into
the drawing-room. She took them to the door, opened
it and put them in, but her feelings were too powerful to
permit her to enter.

“Ah, uncle,” said Miss Ossiter, running eagerly to Sir
George, “I am glad you are come, I have been waiting
for you this long, long time.”

“Well, my dear Lucy,” said he, fondly taking her on
his knee, “and what might make you wish to see me so
much.”

“Because I love you dearly,” said she, throwing her
little arms round his neck, “but that a'nt all.”

“No! what else was it then?”

She lowered her voice, and, clapping her mouth close
to his ear, said, “I owe my maid half-a-crown, and I
told her you would pay her.”

“Sir George was surprised. “And pray how does
that happen?” said he.

“Rebecca lent it me,” said she, still lowering her voice,
“to give a poor man.”

“Rebecca, what Rebecca?” said Sir George, astonished.

“Why, Rebecca,” replied the child; “my own maid
Rebecca, that teaches me to read and say my prayers,
and tells me if I am good I shall go to heaven.”

“What stuff is the child talking?” said Lady Ossiter,
catching the last word.

Sir George was too much affected to speak; he put a
couple of guineas into Lucy's hand, and hastily kissing
them all, hurried out of the house; as he seated himself
in the chaise, he cast his eyes towards the upper windows.
Rebecca caught the glance; the impulse was irresistible;
she threw up the sash.

Sir George kissed his hand, while his countenance betrayed
the feelings of his soul.

Rebecca laid her's on her heart, then raised them towards
heaven, as she would have said, “God bless you.”

“Drive on,” said Sir George, and again bowing his
head to hide his emotions from the servants, a moment
conveyed him from her sight.