CHAPTER XIX
A TRUE FRIEND
When Molly came out of church after morning prayers she stood in theporch to see the company pass out. It was a fashionable company,consisting entirely of ladies who came from the pump room to hear theReverend Benjamin Purdon, _locum tenens_ for the curate of St.Nicholas, read the prayers of the morning service. This he did with animpressiveness quite overwhelming, having a deep and musical voice,which he would roll up and down like the swelling notes of an organ,insomuch that some ladies wept every morning, while he pronounced theabsolution with so much weight that every sinner present rose from herknees in the comfortable faith that her sins were absolved and washedaway, and that she could now begin a new series of sins upon a cleanslate. Happy condition, when without penance, which the papistsenforce; and without repentance, which is demanded by the Protestantfaith, a sinner can every morning wipe off the sins of the lasttwenty-four hours and so begin another day with a robe as white assnow, no sins upon their conscience, and a sure and certain hope. "Letus accept," said this reverend divine, "with gratitude and joy allthat Holy Church gives us; above all, her absolution. We have not thesins of yesterday to weigh us down together with the sins of to-day.Madam, your silk apron becomes you highly, pink silk with silvermatches the colour of your cheeks. It is the colour of Venus herself,I vow. Ah! there are moments when I could wish I was not anecclesiastic!"
As a rule the morning prayers at our two churches are but poorlyattended. The merchants and the captains are at this hour in thecounting-houses on the quay, or assembled at the customhouse, which isa kind of exchange for them; the craftsmen and the sailors and thebargemen are at their work; the shopkeepers are standing behind theircounters; the housewives and the girls are in the kitchen, pantry, orstillroom; there is no one left to attend the morning service, excepta few bedesmen and poor old women.
But in the company assembled at the spa there were many ladies ofpious disposition, though of fashionable conversation, who, having noduties to perform, after drinking the waters and exchanging the latestgossip at the pump room, were pleased to attend the daily prayers--allthe more because they were read by a clergyman from London who couldtalk, when he pleased, like a mere man of the world, or, also when hepleased, with the gravity and the piety of a bishop. The church was,further, a place where one could gather together, so to speak, all theladies' dresses and receive suggestions and hints by the example ofothers what to choose and what to avoid.
Among those who came out of the church that morning was the LadyAnastasia, in a long hood lined with blue silk, looking, as she alwaysdid, more distinguished than any of the rest. She stopped in theporch, seeing Molly, and laughed, tapping her on the cheek with herfan. The other ladies, recognising the girl who wore the chains andthe strings of jewels with so fine a dress at the assembly, passed ontheir way, sticking out their chins, or sniffing slightly, or gigglingand whispering, or even frowning. These gestures all meant the samething; scorn and contempt for the girl who presumed, not being agentlewoman, to have so much money and so much beauty. Envy, no doubt,was more in their minds than scorn. They were agreed, withoutspeaking, to treat the poor girl with every sign of resentment. Andthen, to their confusion, the greatest lady among them stopped andlaughed and patted the impudent baggage on the cheek!
"Child," said the Lady Anastasia, "you were at the assembly the othernight. I saw you dancing a minuet, and I heard that you were rudelytreated at the country dance. I have heard Lord Fylingdale speak aboutyou. He has made the acquaintance of your guardian, Captain Crawle orCrowle. Come, child. Let us be better acquainted. Where are yougoing?"
"I am going home, madam."
"Take me with you, then. Let me see your home."
Molly blushed to the ears and stammered that it was too great honour,so she walked away, Lady Anastasia with her, while the ladies stood inlittle groups watching in wonder and indignation, through thechurchyard and so to the captain's house in Hogman's Lane, close tothe fields and gardens.
Molly led her noble guest into the parlour. The Lady Anastasia lookedround. "So," she said, "this is the home of the heiress." There wastruly very little to indicate this fact. The floor was clean andsanded; a few chairs stood round the walls; one of them was anarmchair; on the walls hung certain portraits--for my own part Ialways considered these as very fine works of art, but I have sinceheard that the limmer was but a sorry member of the craft. He was anitinerant painter, who drew these portraits in oils at half a guineaeach. They represented Molly's parents and Captain Crowle as a youngman. On the mantel-shelf stood a row of china cups and over them adozen samplers. There was a table and there was no other furniture.
"You are an heiress, are you not, child?"
"The captain tells me so, madam."
"The captain's views as to the nature of a fortune may be limited.What is your fortune?"
"There are ships, and lands, and houses. I know not how many of each.And I believe there is money, but I know not how much."
"Strange! Is it in such a house that an heiress should be brought up?Have you servants of your own?"
"I have my black woman, Nigra."
"Humph! Have you a coach? or a chair? or a harpsichord?"
"I have none of these things."
"Have you friends among the gentlefolk? Who are the people that youvisit?"
"There are no gentlefolk in Lynn. I know the vicar and the curate ofSt. Nicholas and their families, and the schoolmaster and his son."
"And the parish clerk, I suppose; and the man who plays the organ.Have you been educated?"
Molly blushed. "The captain says that I have had the best educationpossible for a woman. I can read and write and cast up accounts; and Ican make cakes and puddings, and brew the beer and make the cordials;and I can embroider and sew."
"Heavens! What a preparation for an heiress! But, perhaps, it is notso great a fortune after all. And do you go about daily dressed likethis--in stuff or linsey woolsey?"
"It is my workaday dress. I have a better for Sunday."
"I dare say--I dare say. What do they call you? Molly? It is a goodname for you. Molly. There is something simple about it--somethingrustical yet not uncouth, like Blousabella. Your face will pass,Molly. It is a fair garden of red and white. Your eyes are good; theycan be soft and affectionate. I should think they could also be hardand unforgiving. Your hair is delightful; even the tresses ofAmaryllis are coarse and thick compared with yours. Your hand, mydear, is a soft and warm hand, but it is too red--you work with it."
"Why, what else should I work with?"
"The only work you should do is the shuffling and the dealing ofcards--your hands were made for this purpose--or to handle a fan, orto wear gloves; but not to work, believe me."
Molly looked at her hand. It was a workwoman's hand, being, thoughsmall, thick and strong, with fingers square rather than long. Shelooked and laughed. "What would you say, madam, if you saw me rowing aboat or handling the sail while Jack Pentecrosse steers? I have donemuch rougher work in a boat than in the stillroom."
"These confessions amaze me, my dear. With ships--actually the pluralof the word ship!--and lands--what lands?--and houses, and that sum ofmoney, that you should live in a house like this, without servants,without dress--your clothes are not dress--without a coach--and thatyou should be allowed.... Pray, Molly, what does your mother think ofit?"
"My mother teaches me to do what she herself does."
"Yet you came the other night in a costly dress, and you danced theminuet."
"The director of the ceremonies, Mr. Prappet, taught me the dance."
"You acquitted yourself tolerably, considering your partner, who madeeverybody laugh. There was, however, too much of the dancing school inyour style. A minuet, child, should convey the idea of gestureunstudied. Not natural. Heaven forbid that the world of fashion shouldever be natural! No, but springing out of the courtesy of thesituation, in accordance with the practice of the polite world. Thecavalier woos the maiden, not in t
he country fashion of swain andshepherdess, whose wooing is a plain and direct question with a plainand direct answer, but with formal advances according to wellunderstood rules, which demand certain postures and gestures. Whodressed you?"
"The dressmaker from Norwich who has a shop in Mercers' Row. She hadthe dress from London."
"The dress was passable. For most girls it would have been too costly.But it proclaimed the heiress. It also awakened the envy, hatred, andmalice of the whole assembly--I mean of the ladies. Then there werethe jewels. Child, are you really possessed of all those jewels? Arethey truly your own? Are they truly real?"
"I suppose so. They have been locked up for fifty years. Mygrandfather, who was a ship's captain, brought them from India. Theywere given to him in return for some service by a native prince. Noone has ever worn them except myself. The captain wanted to make thewhole world understand that I have these fine things. That is why Itook some of them out and put them on."
"The world received this intelligence, child, with envy unspeakable.Since the assembly the ladies have been entirely occupied in takingaway your character. You are a strolling actress; your jewels arecoloured glass; your silk dress is a stage costume; I will not repeatthe many kind things said concerning you."
"Oh! But what have I done? What am I to do?"
"Be not alarmed. Everybody's character is taken away in turns, andnobody is one whit the worse. With a girl like you, so innocent of theworld, the more your character is taken away the better it becomes."
"Yet I would rather----"
"Tut, tut. What matters their talk. But about those jewels, my dear. Iam curious about them. Will you let me see them all? If you only knewhow jewels carry me away!"
Molly went away, and presently returned with a large casket of woodcarved with all kinds of devices, such as figures, flowers, fruit, andleaves. Within there were trays lined with red velvet, the colour nowsomewhat decayed; on these trays reposed the jewels she had worn, andmany more. There were strings of pearls; coils of gold chains;bracelets and necklaces; rings, brooches; all kinds imaginable, setwith precious stones, diamonds, emeralds, pearls, rubies, turquoise,sapphires, opals--every jewel that is known to men and prized bywomen.
The Lady Anastasia gazed upon them with hunger and longing; she tookup the chains and strings of pearls and rubies and suffered them tofall gently through her fingers, as if the mere touch was sovereignagainst all ills; she sighed as she laid them down. She sprang to herfeet and began to hang them about Molly's neck and arms; she twistedthe pearls in and about her hair; she strung the gold chains about herneck; she covered her again, as she had been covered at the assembly,with the glittering gauds.
"Oh!" she cried, sinking into her chair. "'Tis too much! Take them offagain, Molly, I burst--I faint--I die--with envy. Oh! that you, whocare so little for them, should have so many, and I, who care so much,should have so few. Women have risked their honour, their name, theirimmortal souls, for a tenth part of the treasures that you have inthis casket. And yet you wonder why they take away your character!"
Molly laughed and shut the box. "As I never saw them before yesterdayI do not understand their envy."
"No--you do not understand. Ah! how much happiness you lose in notunderstanding. For you know not the joy of seeing all faces grow blackand all looks bitter. Well, put them away, out of my sight."
Then she turned to another subject.
"Tell me, Molly, what your guardian designs for you. Are you to marrysome merchant who distributes casks of turpentine about the country?Or a sailor who pretends to be a fine gentleman and dances like anelephant. The handling of this noble fortune is surely above theambition of such gentry as these."
"Indeed I do not know. The captain says that he must look higher thana merchant or a sailor of Lynn. And he will not think of any gentlemanof the country, neither, because they are all hard drinkers."
"The captain is difficult to please. Methinks a gentleman would atleast bestow promotion. Your children would be gentlefolk, I dare say,with the help of this great fortune. What does he want, however?"
"He talks about finding a young man of position, who is alsovirtuous."
"Oh! He is indeed ambitious. My dear, a young man of position whowants a fortune is easily found. He grows and flourishes in the park,like blackberries on a hedge. But when you speak of virtue, thevirtuous young man is not so common. 'Tis a wicked world, my dear."
"The captain has spoken on the subject to Lord Fylingdale."
"I believe he has done so. He may, indeed, entirely depend upon hislordship's advice, whether it concerns the placing of your fortune orthe bestowal of your hand."
"The captain, I know, thinks very highly of Lord Fylingdale'sjudgment."
"I hope also of his virtue. Indeed, but for his virtue, his lordshipwould be even as other men, which would be a pity for other men--Imean, for him."
She then began to give Molly advice about her next appearance at theassembly.
"You must come again; you must come often; I will take care that youfind partners. You must not show that you are moved in the least bythe treatment you have received. But I would advise a more simpledress. Come to me, my dear, and my maid shall dress you. A young girllike yourself ought not to wear so much silk and lace, and theaddition of the gold network was more fitting for a matron of rankthan a young unmarried woman. And as for the jewels, I would recommendone gold chain or a necklace of pearls and a bracelet or two--I sawone with sapphires, very becoming--and do not put the diamonds in yourhair. And you must on no account come with the bear who flopped andsprawled with you before."
"Poor Jack!"
"Jack? Is he your brother?"
"No. He is my old friend. And he is mate on one of my ships--_The Ladyof Lynn_."
"I dare say he would like to command the other Lady of Lynn. But,Molly, pray be careful. A Jack-in-the-box is apt to jump up high. Takecare."
So saying she rose to go, but stopped for a few last words.
"Well, my dear, you must seriously prepare yourself to take the placethat belongs to you by right of your fortune. After all, what is rankcompared with wealth? I have no doubt that some sprig of quality willbe found to take your hand--with your fortune. At first the women willflout you. Keep up your courage. You can buy their kindness; you canbuy it by judicious gifts, or by finding out their secrets. I willhelp you there, my dear. I know secrets enough to crack the reputationof half the town."
Molly shuddered. "You make me afraid," she said. "Am I never to havefriends?"
The Lady Anastasia shook her head. "Friends, my dear? What does thegirl mean? We are all friends; of course we are friends, and we allbackbite each other and carry scandal and intrigue. Friends, my dear?In the world of fashion?"
"I shall never like the world of fashion."
"Not at first. But the liking will come. There is no other way of lifethat can be compared with it. You will rise at noon after a cup ofchocolate; you will spend the afternoon in dressing; you will go outin your coach or your chair to breathe the air of the park; you willtake dinner at four; you will go to the theatre or the opera at six;you will sit down to cards at ten. My simple native, you know not halfthe joys that await you in the dear, delightful, scandalous town."
So she went on, and before she departed she had made Molly promise tovisit her and to receive a continuation of those lessons by which shehoped, in the interests of Lord Fylingdale, to make the girldiscontented and ready to throw herself, fortune and all, into thearms of herself and her associates. As yet she had made littleimpression. Molly was not anxious for any change. She would be contentto go on as before--the darling of the old guardian--with her friendsand the people among whom she had lived all her life--simple in theirtastes, homely in their manners; to be like her mother, a maker ofbread, cakes, and puddings; a brewer of ale; the mistress of thestill-room.
"Why, Jack," she said, telling me something of this lesson inpoliteness. "I am to go away; to live in London; to leave my mother;never to see t
he captain any more; never to do anything again; not tomake any more puddings--such as you like so much; to play cards everynight; to have no friends; and to backbite and slander everybody Iknow. If this is the polite world, Jack, let me never see it. 'Tis mydaily prayer."
You shall hear how her prayer was granted, yet not in the way shewould have asked. And this, I say again, is the way in which many ofour prayers are granted. We get what is good for us--if we pray forthat good thing--but not by the way we would have chosen.
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