2. CHAP. II.
THE APPLICATION.
At twelve o'clock, next morning, the lovely Rebecca,
habited in a plain white jacket, a strawhat,
and black teresa, sat out for Audley Park.
Lady Mary was alone in the library when she arrived,
and, on the servant's announcing her name, desired
her to be immediately shown up.
“Now this is really kind,” said she, with the most
condescending smile, advancing to the blushing Rebecca,
and, taking her hand, led her to the sofa on which she
had been sitting, and seating herself by her side: “I
flatter myself you are come to spend the day with me.”
“Indeed, madam,” replied Rebecca, “I was not
so presuming as to hope such an honour: I came to request—to
entreat”— she faltered—the tears
started in her eyes—Lady Mary interrupted her.
“Speak out, my love; do not be alarmed, but rest
assured, I am ready to grant you any favour within
the limits of my power.”
“You are very good, madam. I hope you will pardon
the liberty I have taken; but my father, madam
—his income is very small—we are a twelve-month
in arrears in our rent—if you will kindly
use your interest with Sir George in our behalf.—
“Surely, my dear, your agitation is unnecessary.
I dare say my son has never thought of the rent.”
“No, madam, I do not suppose he has, it is so
trifling; but Mr. Villars, his steward, asked for it last
night, and was very angry!”
“Indeed! said her ladyship; was he angry?”
“I do not mean to complain of Mr. Villars, madam,
for he has been very good to us, and often has waited
a month or two for his money. You know, madam,
he is only doing his duty when he demands it; for was
he to be remiss in collecting the rents, Sir George
would certainly be offended with him.”
Lady Mary smiled at the eager manner in which
Rebecca uttered this apology for Villars; but it was a
smile of the utmost satisfaction, it convinced her of
the goodness of her young visitor's heart.
“I think,” said she, “if some friend could be found
who would advance this sum for your father.”
“Alas! madam, how is it to be repaid, unleſſ, indeed,”—
hesitating, blushing, and rising from
her seat.
“Unless what, my sweet girl?”
“Your ladyship would generously lend me the money,
and take me into your service, that I might render
myself useful till it is repaid; or, if you think me
too presuming, madam, perhaps, you could recommend
me to some family where there are children. I am not,
it is true, accustomed to servitude, but I will exert my
poor abilities cheerfully, and hope my willingness to
oblige will, in some measure compensate for my awkwardness.”
“You are too good, and too lovely,” said Lady Mary,
“for a servant; but you shall, if you please, come
and live with me. I will settle this little difficulty of
your father's and shall think myself obliged if you
will accept a trifle annually for your pocket expences.
She then drew forth her purse, and presented the delighted
maid with a twenty pound bank note.”
Greatful beyond the power of expression, Rebecca
could only sink on her knees, press the hand of her
benefactress to her lips, and, smiling through the tears
that gushed from her eyes, looked those thanks she
found it impossible to utter.
“Go, go, you are a simple girl I see,” cried her
ladyship, raising and pushing her gently from her. “Go,
make your father happy, and, if you can obtain his
assent to my proposal, to-morrow I will come and fetch
you home; but I must have you mend that little heart
of your's, it is but a very poor one to go through the
world with.”
“It means well,” replied Rebecca, trembling and
confused, raising her timid eyes to the face of her benefactress.
“Aye, aye, I am sure of that, but it is too honest
by half; besides, your intelligent countenance betrays
its every emotion.”
“I hope, madam, it will never experience any, but
may be revealed with impunity.”
“Ah! my dear,” said Lady Mary, shaking her
head, “you will, no doubt, one day find that it will
be to your interest to disguise its feelings as much as
possible.”
Rebecca, then took her leave, and as she returned
home, could not help thinking that it was very strange,
and very inconsistent too, that sincerity should be deemed
a virtue, and yet disguise be thought necessary to
those who have much commerce with the world.
