18. CHAP. XVIII.
FASHIONABLE LEVITIES.
“So, Madam, cried Lappett, as she was assisting her
Lady to rise the next morning; “so, Madam,
though Mrs. Rebecca was so delicate as to refuse conveying
a letter to his Grace, she has no objection to private
interviews with my Lord. Oh, I could have torn the
creature's eyes out, an impertinent minx.”
“What are you talking of, Lappett,” said her Ladyship,
with the greatest composure, “I protest you seem
out of your senses.”
“I am, my Lady, almost, for when I reflect on so
kind, so good a Lady as yourself being treated in such a
barbarous manner: why, Madam, after you were gone
last night, I went up to see if Rebecca was doing the
dress your Ladyship said you would wear on Thursday,
and I could not find her; however, as I knew she sometimes
went to the library when you were not at home,
and staid and read for two or three hours, I sat down and
began a little of it myself, but, after working till past
twelve o'clock, I thought it was very odd where she could
be, so I went down the back stairs, thinking perhaps
I should find her in the housekeeper's room, but as I
past the little music parlour, I heard the sound of voice
and opening the door, what does your Ladyship think,
I discovered, I thought I should have swooned away, for
there sat Rebecca, fast locked in my Lord's arms, and
her head leaned on his shoulders.”
“Very well,” cried Lady Ossiter, peevishly, the crimson
of resentment rushing over her face and neck, “why
am I plagued with this long story: one would think you
were jealous of the creature, by the passion you are in.”
“I jealous, my Lady, does your Ladyship think?”—
“Oh, no! I don't think about it; I suppose my Lord
is not worse than other men of his rank, and while he is not
wanting in respect to me, I shall not trouble myself about
his amusements; to be sure, it is rather mortifying to have
a little insignificant hussy preferred in one's own house.”
“That is what I say, Madam.”
“You have no right to say or think about it; if I am
satisfied with my Lord's conduct, I desire I may hear
none of your slippant impertinence upon a subject that
don't concern you.”
have done, Ma'am, but I hope you'll discharge—”
“I certainly shall discharge every servant of mine, whose
conduct displeases me, therefore, Lappett, read that impudent
scrawl, and then let me know what wages are due
to you.”
Lappett took the letter, and trembled as she took it,
for she knew it to be one which she had written to her
sister, and having intrusted it to the house maid to put it
in the post, the girl's curiosity led her to open it, but,
being surprised by the entrance of her lady whilst in the
act of reading it, she had, in her hurry to put it in her
pocket, dropped it, and while the officious Lappett was
contriving to introduce the Duke unperceived to her Lady,
this unfortunate letter discovered her criminal intercourse
with her Lord. But though Lady Ossiter had thus
bridled her passion while talking to her infamous confidante,
she no sooner saw the innocent Rebecca, than she
vented on her that torrent of abuse fear had prevented
her from pouring on the other.
Artful infamous strumpet, were her elegant expressions,
to pretend to such resinement of sentiment, and yet be
guilty of such glaring faults.
In vain Rebecca wept, and called on heaven to witness
her innocence; even when kneeling, she requested not to
be bereaved of her only refuge, an unblemished character.
The haughty Lady Ossiter spurned her from her, and bid
her instantly leave her house, and get her bread without,
for she was well convinced she did not deserve one.
Lord Ossiter, prepared as he was to meet her anger,
was unable to bear the illiberal abuse with which she loaded
him; he therefore satisfied himself with telling her, when
she practised the duties of a wife, he would begin to study
those of a husband; till then, she had no right to complain,
and left her to compose her spirits, as she could, while he
inquired of his valet what he knew concerning Rebecca.
He soon learnt, by inquiries being made among the servants,
that Rebecca was dismissed, and that she had taken
a place in the Lincolnshire stage, in order to return to her
mother. This was sufficient intelligence for his Lordship,
and he began to plan schemes for getting her in his power.
When Rebecca came to take leave of the children, her
feelings were undescribable. Miss Ossiter hung about her
neck; even Charles and James begged her not to
they would be good boys and never vex her by behaving
ill again. She embraced them all tenderly, and with a
heart almost broken, got into a hackney-coach, which
took her to the inn from whence the stage set out. She
asked to be shown to an apartment, and ordered some
trifle for her supper, then sitting down by a little solitary
fire, began to reflect on her vexations, nor did she consider
it as the least, that she was obliged to return to her mother
who had written to her but twice during her residence
in London, and even those letters were short and
cold.
The five hundred pounds Mrs. Harley had given her,
she did not consider as her own property, and besides that,
she was possessed of but ten guineas in the world; to be sure
she had a few valuable trinkets, presents from Lady Mary,
and a good stock of clothes; but what was that, when
she wanted support it would soon be gone. In the midst
of these painful reflexions she drew the picture of her
benefactress from her bosom, and contemplated it as her
chief, her almost only comfort. But, examining it more
minutely than she had ever before done, she thought she
discovered something like a spring on the edge of the setting,
and pressing her finger on it, the back flew off and
discovered to her the portrait of Sir George, fixed behind
that of his mother.
Spite of herself she could not help gazing on it with
pleasure, and when she considered the delicacy with which
he had managed to present it to her, he rose higher
than ever in her esteem.
“Ah,” said she, “he certainly loves me, and is worthy
my esteem. Why are we not born for each other, for sure
I am, I could be content with Sir George, though in
the humblest station: more—far more happy than in an
elevated sphere; for in the humbler walks of life the felicity
we experience must proceed from a mutual desire to
please, but in an exalted station we live not for ourselves
but others, at least if we have not fortitude to scorn and
despise the sneers of the fashionable world.”
Rebecca could not help considering the possession of this
portrait, at this period, as an invaluable treasure, and in
her own breast solemnly vowed never to part from it. She
indulged herself in gazing on it while she sat up, and
she retired to bed, laid it on her pillow, and fell
into a composed slumber, which lasted till called at four
o'clock to join the passengers in the coach. Refreshed
and comforted by the rest she had taken, Rebecca arose
with alacrity to pursue her journey, and nothing material
occurred till they had proceeded upwards of fifty miles
from town, when the coach was overtaken by a post-chaise
and four, in which was a man, who stopped the coachman
and asked if there was not a young person within side
of the name of Littleton. “Yes,” cried Rebecca, innocently
looking out of the window, “my name is Littleton.”
“Ah, Ma'am,” cried the man, “I am commanded to
entreat you to return. Miss Ossiter was last night taken
extremely ill, and cries continually for you; my Lady
therefore begs you will forget what is past, and come and
take your usual station in the family. She is convinced of
your innocence, but if disagreeable to yourself, she will
only desire you to remain till Miss Ossiter is better.”
Rebecca's heart, formed for the warmest affection, beat
high when she heard of her little favourite's illness. The
ill treatment she had experienced from Lady Ossiter was
instantly forgot, and she thought only of returning as
quick as possible to attend the dear little girl. She sprang
hastily from the coach, and only taking with her a small
portmanteau, containing a necessary change of linen, got
into the chaise, and though drawn as quick as four horses
could carry her, she thought every moment an hour, so
anxious was she to arrive in Bedford-Square.
