The first Sunday that Juliet passed in this new situation, nearly robbed her of the good will of the whole of the little community to which she belonged. It was the only day in the week in which the young work-women were allowed some hours for recreation; they considered it, therefore, as rightfully dedicated, after the church-service, to amusement with one another; and Juliet, in refusing to join in a custom which they held to be the basis of their freedom and happiness, appeared to them an unsocial and haughty innovator. Yet neither wearying remonstrances, nor persecuting persuasions, could prevail upon her to parade with them upon the Steyne; to stroll with them by the sea-side; to ramble upon the Downs; or to form a party for Shoreham, or Devil’s Dyke.
Evil is so relative, that the same chamber, the lonely sadness of which, since her privation of Gabriella, had become nearly insupportable to her, was now, from a new contrast, almost all that she immediately coveted. The bustle, the fatigue, the obtrusion of new faces, the spirit of petty intrigue, and the eternal clang of tongues, which she had to endure in the shop, made quiet, even in its most uninteresting dulness, desirable and consoling.
To approach herself, as nearly as might be in her power, to the loved society which she had lost, she destined this only interval of peace and leisure, to her pen and Gabriella; and such was her employment, when the sound of slow steps, upon the stairs, followed by a gentle tap at her door, at once interrupted and surprised her. Miss Matson and her maids, as well as her work-women, were spending their Sabbath abroad; and a shop-man was left to take care of the house. The tap, however, was repeated, and, obeying its call, Juliet beheld Sir Jaspar Herrington, the gouty old Baronet.
The expression of her countenance immediately demanded explanation, if not apology, as she stepped forward upon the landing-place, to make clear that she should not receive him in her apartment.
His keen eye read her meaning, though, affecting not to perceive it, he pleasantly said, ‘How? immured in your chamber? and of a gala day?’
The recollection of the essential, however forced obligation, which she owed to him, for her deliverance from the persecution of Miss Bydel, soon dissipated her first impression in his disfavour, and she quietly answered that she went very little abroad: but when she would have enquired into his business, ‘You can refuse yourself, then,’ he cried, pretending not to hear her, ‘the honour—or pleasure, which shall we call it? of sharing in the gaieties of your fair fellow-votaries to the needle? I suspected you of this self-denial. I had a secret presentiment that you would be insensible to the fluttering joys of your sister spinsters. How did I divine you so well? What is it you have about you that sets one’s imagination so to work?’
Juliet replied, that she would not presume to interfere with the business of his penetration, but that, as she was occupied, she must beg to know, at once, his commands.
‘Not so hasty! not so hasty!’ he cried: ‘You must shew me some little consideration, if only in excuse for the total want of it which you have caused in those little imps, that beset my slumbers by night, and my reveries by day. They have gotten so much the better of me now, that I am equally at a loss how to sleep or how to wake for them. ‘Why don’t you find out,’ they cry, ‘whether this syren likes her new situation? Why don’t you discover whether any thing better can be done for her?’ And then, all of one accord, they so pommel and bemaul me, that you would pity me, I give you my word, if you could see the condition into which they put my poor conscience; however little so fair a young creature may be disposed to feel pity, for such a hobbling, gouty old fellow as I am!’
Softened by this benevolent solicitude, Juliet, thankfully, spoke of herself with all the cheerfulness that she could assume; and, encouraged by her lessened reserve, Sir Jaspar, to her unspeakable surprise, said, ‘There is one point, I own, which I have an extreme desire to know; how long may it be that you have left the stage, and from what latent cause?’
No explanation, however, could be attempted: the attention of Juliet was called into another channel, by the sound of a titter, which led her to perceive Flora Pierson; who, almost convulsed with delight at having surprised them, said that she had heard, from the shop-man, that Miss Ellis and Sir Jaspar were talking together upon the stairs, and she had stolen up the back way, and crept softly through one of the garrets, on purpose to come upon them unawares. ‘So now,’ added she, nodding, ‘we’ll go into my room, if you please, Miss Ellis; for I have got something else to tell you! Only you must not stay with me long.’
‘And not to tell me, too?’ cried Sir Jaspar, chucking her under the chin: ‘How’s this, my daffodil? my pink? my lilly? how’s this? surely you have not any secrets for me?’
‘O yes, I have, Sir Jaspar! because you’re a gentleman, you know, Sir Jaspar. And one must not tell every thing to gentlemen, mamma says.’
‘Mamma says? but you are too much a woman to mind what mamma says, I hope, my rose, my daisy?’ cried Sir Jaspar, chucking her again under the chin, while she smiled and courtsied in return.
Juliet would have re-entered her chamber; but Flora, catching her gown, said, ‘Why now, Miss Ellis, I bid you come to my room, if you please, Miss Ellis; ‘cause then I can show you my presents; as well as tell you something.—Come, will you go? for it’s something that’s quite a secret, I assure you; for I have not told it to any body yet; not even to our young ladies; for it’s but just happened. So you’ve got my first confidence this time: and you have a right to take that very kind of me, for it’s what I’ve promised, upon my word and honour, and as true as true can be, not to tell to any body; not so much as to a living soul!’
To be freed quietly from the Baronet, Juliet consented to attend her; and Flora, with many smiles and nods at Sir Jaspar, begged that he would not be affronted that she did not tell all her secrets to gentlemen; and, shutting him out, began her tale.
‘Now I’ll tell you what it is I’m going to tell you, Miss Ellis. Do you know who I met, just now, upon the Steyne, while I was walking with our young ladies, not thinking of any thing? You can’t guess, can you? Why Sir Lyell himself. I gave such a squeak! But he spoke to all our young ladies first. And I was half a mind to cry; only I happened to be in one of my laughing fits. And when once I am upon my gig, papa says, if the world were all to tumble down, it would not hinder me of my smiling. Though I am sure I often don’t know what it’s for. If any body asked me, I could not tell, one time in twenty. But Sir Lyell’s very clever; cleverer than I am, by half, I believe. For he got to speak to me, at last, so as nobody could hear a word he said, but just me. Nor I could not, either, but only he spoke quite in my ear.’
‘And do you think it right, Miss Pierson, to let gentlemen whisper you?’
‘O, I could not bid him not, you know. I could not be rude to a Knight-Baronet! Besides, he said he was come down from London, on purpose for nothing else but to see me! A Knight-Baronet, Miss Ellis! That’s very good natured, is it not? I dare say he means something by it. Don’t you? However, I shall know more by and by, most likely; for he whispered me to make believe I’d got a head-ache, and to come home by myself, and wait for him in my own room: for he says he has brought me the prettiest present that ever I saw from London. So you see how generous he is; i’n’t he? And he’ll bring it me himself, to make me a little visit. So then, very likely, he’ll speak out. Won’t he? But he bid me tell it to nobody. So say nothing if you see him, for it will only be the way to make him angry. I must not put the shop-man in the secret, he says, for he shall only ask for old Sir Jaspar; and he shall go to him first, and make the shop-man think he is with him all the time. So I told our young ladies I’d got a head-ache, sure enough; but don’t be uneasy, for it’s only make believe; for I’m very well.’
Filled with alarm for the simple, deluded maiden, Juliet now made an undisguised representation of her danger; earnestly charging her not to receive the dangerous visit.
But Flora, self-willed, though good natured, would not hear a word.
No ass so meek;—no mule so obstinate.
She never contradicted, yet never listened; she never gave an opinion, yet never followed one. She was neither endowed with timidity to suspect her deficiencies, nor with sense to conceive how she might be better informed. She came to Juliet merely to talk; and when her prattle was over, or interrupted, she had no thought but to be gone.
‘O yes, I must see him, Miss Ellis,’ she cried; ‘for you can’t think how ill he’ll take it, if I don’t. But now we have stayed talking together so long, I can’t shew you my presents till he is gone, for fear he should come. But don’t mind, for then I shall have the new ones to shew you, too. But if I don’t do what he bids me, he’ll be as angry as can be, for all he’s my lover; (smiling.) He makes very free with me sometimes; only I don’t mind it; because I’m pretty much used to it, from one or another. Sometimes he’ll say I am the greatest simpleton that ever he knew in his life; for all he calls me his angel! He don’t make much ceremony with me, when I don’t understand his signs. But it don’t much signify, for the more he’s angry, the more he’s kind, when it’s over, (smiling.) And then he brings me prettier things than ever. So I a’n’t much a loser. I’ve no great need to cry about it. And he says I’m quite a little goddess, often and often, if I’d believe him. Only one must not believe the men over much, when they are gentlemen, I believe.’
Juliet, kindly taking her hand, would have drawn her into her own chamber; but they were no sooner in the passage, than Flora jumped back, and, shaking with laughter at her ingenuity, shut and locked herself into her room.
Juliet now renounced, perforce, all thought of serving her except through the medium of Miss Matson; and she was returning, much vexed, to her own small apartment, when she saw Sir Jaspar, who, leaning against the banisters, seemed to have been waiting for her, step curiously forward, as she opened her door, to take a view of her chamber. With quick impulse, to check this liberty, she hastily pushed to the door; not recollecting, till too late, that the key, by which alone it was opened, was on the inside.
Chagrined, she repaired to Flora, telling the accident, and begging admittance.
Flora, laughing with all her heart, positively refused to open the door; saying that she would rather be without company.
The shop-man now came up stairs, to see what was going forward, and to enquire whether Miss Pierson, who had told him that she was ill, found herself worse. Flora, hastily checking her mirth, answered that her head ached, and she would lie down; and then spoke no more.
The shop-man made an attempt to enter into conversation with Juliet; but she gravely requested that he would be so good as to order a smith to open the lock of her door.
He ought not, he said, to leave the house in the absence of Miss Matson; but he would run the risk for the pleasure of obliging her, if she would only step down into the shop, to answer to the bell or the knocker.
To this, in preference to being shut out of her room, she would immediately have consented, but that she feared the arrival of Sir Lyell Sycamore. She asked the shop-man, therefore, if there were any objection to her waiting in the little parlour.
None in the world, he answered; for he had Miss Matson’s leave to use it when she was out of a Sunday; and he should be very glad if Miss Ellis would oblige him with her company.
Juliet declined this proposal with an air that repressed any further attempt at intimacy; and the shop-man returned to his post.
‘I must not, I suppose,’ the Baronet, then advancing, said, ‘presume to offer you shelter under my roof from the inclemencies of the staircase? And yet I think I may venture, without being indecorous, to mention, that I am going out for my usual airing; and that you may take possession of your old apartment, upon your own misanthropical terms. At all events, I shall leave you the door open, place some books upon the table, take out my servants, and order that no one shall molest you.’
Extremely pleased by a kindness so much to her taste, Juliet would gratefully have accepted this offer, but for the visit that she knew to be designed for the same apartment; which the absence of its maste............