University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

Goff.

Miss Trewbody behaved with perfect propriety upon
the news of her sister's death. She closed her front windows

for two days; received no visitors for a week; was
much indisposed, but resigned to the will of Providence, in
reply to messages of condolence; put her servants in mourning,
and sent for Margaret, that she might do her duty to
her sister's child by breeding her up under her own eye.
Poor Margaret was transferred from the stone floor of her
mother's cottage to the Turkey carpet of her aunt's parlor.
She was too young to comprehend at once the whole evil of
the exchange; but she learned to feel and understand it
during years of bitter dependence, unalleviated by any hope,
except that of one day seeing Leonard, the only creature on
earth whom she remembered with affection.

Seven years elapsed, and during all those years Leonard
was left to pass his holidays, summer and winter, at the
grammar-school where he had been placed at Mrs. Palmer's
death: for although the master regularly transmitted with
his half-yearly bill the most favorable accounts of his disposition
and general conduct, as well as of his progress in
learning, no wish to see the boy had ever arisen in the
hearts of his nearest relations; and no feeling of kindness,
or sense of decent humanity, had ever induced either the
fox-hunter Trewman, or Melicent his sister, to invite him
for Midsummer or Christmas. At length in the seventh
year a letter announced that his school-education had been
completed, and that he was elected to a scholarship at —
College, Oxford, which scholarship would entitle him to a
fellowship in due course of time: in the intervening years
some little assistance from his liberal benefactors would be
required; and the liberality of those kind friends would be
well bestowed upon a youth who bade so fair to do honor
to himself, and to reflect no disgrace upon his honorable connections.
The head of the family promised his part, with
an ungracious expression of satisfaction at thinking that,
“thank God, there would soon be an end of these demands
upon him.” Miss Trewbody signified her assent in the

same amiable and religious spirit. However much her
sister had disgraced her family, she replied, “Please God,
it should never be said that she refused to do her duty.”

The whole sum which these wealthy relations contributed
was not very heavy, — an annual ten pounds each; but
they contrived to make their nephew feel the weight of
every separate portion. The Squire's half came always
with a brief note, desiring that the receipt of the enclosed
sum might be acknowledged without delay, — not a word of
kindness or courtesy accompanied it: and Miss Trewbody
never failed to administer with her remittance a few edifying
remarks upon the folly of his mother in marrying
beneath herself; and the improper conduct of his father in
connecting himself with a woman of family, against the
consent of her relations; the consequence of which was,
that he had left a child dependent upon those relations for
support. Leonard received these pleasant preparations of
charity only at distant intervals, when he regularly expected
them, with his half-yearly allowance. But Margaret meantime
was dieted upon the food of bitterness, without one
circumstance to relieve the misery of her situation.

At the time of which I am now speaking, Miss Trewbody
was a maiden lady of forty-seven, in the highest state of
preservation. The whole business of her life had been to
take care of a fine person, and in this she had succeeded
admirably. Her library consisted of two books: “Nelson's
Festivals and Fasts” was one, the other was “The Queen's
Cabinet Unlocked”; and there was not a cosmetic in the
latter which she had not faithfully prepared. Thus by
means, as she believed, of distilled waters of various kinds,
May-dew and buttermilk, her skin retained its beautiful
texture still, and much of its smoothness; and she knew at
times how to give it the appearance of that brilliancy which
it had lost. But that was a profound secret. Miss Trewbody,
remembering the example of Jezebel, always felt

conscious that she was committing a sin when she took the
rouge-box in her hand, and generally ejaculated in a low
voice, the Lord forgive me! when she laid it down: but,
looking in the glass at the same time, she indulged a hope
that the nature of the temptation might be considered as
an excuse for the transgression. Her other great business
was to observe with the utmost precision all the punctilios
of her situation in life; and the time which was not devoted
to one or other of these worthy occupations, was employed
in scolding her servants, and tormenting her niece. This
employment, for it was so habitual that it deserved that
name, agreed excellently with her constitution. She was
troubled with no acrid humors, no fits of bile, no diseases
of the spleen, no vapors or hysterics. The morbid matter
was all collected in her temper, and found a regular vent at
her tongue. This kept the lungs in vigorous health; nay,
it even seemed to supply the place of wholesome exercise,
and to stimulate the system like a perpetual blister, with
this peculiar advantage, that instead of an inconvenience it
was a pleasure to herself, and all the annoyance was to her
dependants.

Miss Trewbody lies buried in the Cathedral at Salisbury,
where a monument was erected to her memory worthy of
remembrance itself for its appropriate inscription and accompaniments.
The epitaph recorded her as a woman
eminently pious, virtuous, and charitable, who lived universally
respected, and died sincerely lamented, by all who had
the happiness of knowing her. This inscription was upon
a marble shield supported by two Cupids, who bent their
heads over the edge, with marble tears larger than gray
pease, and something of the same color, upon their cheeks.
These were the only tears which her death occasioned, and
the only Cupids with whom she had ever any concern.