In which our heroine, through inattention, falls into the very difficulty she had taken such pains to avoid.
But this cessation from uneasiness did not last long: for the mind which can fasten with violence but upon one circumstance of distress at a time, and being suddenly relieved from that, is sensible of a calm, which, compared with its former feelings, may be called pleasure, yet soon selects another object to engross its attention, and fixes on it with equal anxiety and sollicitude. Thus it fared with our lovely heroine, whose others cares had all been swallowed up in reflections on the danger to which her honour was exposed. Eased of these apprehensions by the good offices of miss Woodby, she was happy for a few moments, till the consequences of her flight rush’d full upon her mind: lady Meadows’s favour irrecoverable; her fortune ruined; her reputation blasted. This last thought, which, from the delicacy of her sentiments, gave her the deepest regret, dwelt most upon her mind; and forgetting that she was not alone, she clasped her hands together in a violent emotion, and burst into tears.
The old gentlewoman, who had been eying her very attentively, not a little surprised at the seriousness that appeared in the looks and behaviour of so young a creature, eagerly asked her, What was the matter?
Henrietta, rouzed by this question, which, (so absent had she been) first informed her she was observed, wiped her eyes, and composing her countenance, said she was often low-spirited.
“Don’t tell me of low spirits,” said the old gentlewoman, “such young bodies as you are not low-spirited for nothing. What! I warrant you, there is a sweetheart in the case.”
“Oh! no, madam,” said miss Courteney, blushing, “no sweetheart, I assure you.”
“No really,” resumed she; “well then, I suppose you have lost a friend.”
“I have indeed lost a friend,” said the young lady, hoping that acknowledgment would put an end to the questions of her fellow-traveller.
“Indeed!” said the old woman; “and this friend—is it a father, or mother, or sister, or—”
“All, all,” interrupted miss Courteney; bursting again into tears.
“How all?” repeated the old woman. “Have you just now lost all these kinsfolks?”
“I lost them all in losing that friend, madam,” said Henrietta; vexed that her sensibility, wakened by such questions, had made her too little guarded in her expressions.
“Oh, Oh, I understand you, child,” said the good gentlewomen: “this person, I don’t ask you whether it was a man or woman, was to you both father and mother. Well, and so I suppose you have just heard of the death of this good friend, and are going to town on that occasion.”
Miss Courteney finding that the inquisitive temper of her fellow-traveller was likely to lead her into a discovery of her situation, chose rather to be silent than violate truth, by feigning circumstances, to deceive her; and, fortunately for her, she was prevented from suffering more disagreeable interrogatories, by the coach suddenly stopping at an inn in Piccadilly, where it put up.
The old gentlewoman, however, at parting, asked her what part of the town she was going, to, and offered, if it was in her way, to accompany her; but Henrietta evaded the question and the offer, by telling her, that she intended to take a chair.5 The coachman accordingly called one for her, which she entered immediately; and being asked by the chairman where she would please to be carried? she recollected with great confusion, that miss Woodby had not told her where her millener lived.
She now sought for the letter, hoping there was a full direction upon that. But what was her grief and perplexity, when she found the superscription contained only these words “For Mrs. Egret.” “Good Heaven!” exclaimed the fair unfortunate, “what shall I do now?”
The chairman repeating his question, she told him that she had forgot a direction, and asked him, if he knew where Mrs. Egret, a millener, lived? The fellow replied in the negative; but added, that he would enquire. He accordingly stepped into the nearest shop, which was a haberdasher’s, and making a small blunder in the name, which the person he spoke to mistook for Eccles, he was told, that the millener for whom he enquired, lived in Charles street.
The fellow returned, extremely pleased with his success, and relieved the young lady from her anxiety, who bid him carry her directly to Charles street; and she soon found herself at the door of a millener’s shop, where she discharged her chairmen; and entering, asked a young woman, whom she saw at work, if her mistress was at home?
The girl desired her to walk into a parlour, where she was met by an agreeable well-dressed woman, who received her with great politeness, and desired to know her commands.
“I have a letter for you,” said Henrietta, putting it into her hands, “from a young lady, a customer of yours: the contents will acquaint you with my business.”
The millener took the letter, and having read it, returned it again with a smile, saying, “She was not the person to whom it was addressed.”
“No! madam,” said miss Courteney, excessively surprised, “Is not your name Egret?”
“My name is Eccles, madam,” said the millener. “Bless me!” cried miss Courteney, “the chairmen have made a mistake: I bid one of them enquire where Mrs. Egret, a millener, lived, and he was directed hither. I shall be obliged to you,” pursued Henrietta, “if you will let your maid call a chair.”
“To be sure, madam,” said the millener; “but do you not know where this Mrs. Egret lives?”
“I have unfortunately forgot to get a direction,” returned the young lady; “but I hope you can inform me.”
“I wish I could, madam,” said the millener; “but really I know no such person as Mrs. Egret.” “Surely I am the most unfortunate creature in the world!” cried Henrietta.
“I hope not, madam,” said Mrs. Eccles, with a look of great complacency: “there are more persons, besides Mrs. Egret, who would be glad to accommodate you with lodgings. I wish mine were good enough for you.”
“Oh! they are good enough, no doubt,” replied miss Courteney; “but I was recommended to Mrs. Egret, and”—“Pray, madam, walk up, and look at my first floor,” said Mrs. Eccles; and, without waiting for any reply, immediately led the way.
Henrietta followed in such perplexity of mind, that she hardly knew what she did; and, while the officious millener led her from room to room, expatiating at large upon the conveniencies, she continued silent, revolving in her thoughts the dilemma to which she was reduced.
The evening was so far advanced, that she could not think of going in quest of Mrs. Egret, of whom she could get no information here; yet she was not able to resolve upon taking lodgings in the house of a person, to whom she was an absolute stranger: a misfortune which she had vainly endeavoured to avoid by the application she had made to miss Woodby.
“I am afraid you don’t like this apartment, madam,” said Mrs. Eccles; who observed her look pensive and uneasy. “I have no objection to it,” said miss Courteney; “but that it is rather too good. I do not propose to go to a high price; a bedchamber and the use of a parlour will be sufficient for me.”
The millener looked a little dissatisfied at these words, but told her she could accommodate her with a large handsome bedchamber up two pair of stairs, but added, that she had no other parlour than that which she kept for her own use.
Miss Courteney desired to see the room, which was indeed very handsome and convenient; and the millener perceiving she liked it, told her, that she should be welcome to the use of the dining-room till her first floor was let.
The young lady thought this an obliging proposal; and being pleased with the woman’s countenance and behaviour, ventured to make an agreement with her, and every thing being settled upon very easy terms, “there is but one difficulty remaining,” said she, with an engaging smile, “and that I know not how we shall get over; we are strangers to each other.”
“Oh, madam,” interrupted Mrs. Eccles, “though it is not my custom to take in lodgers without having a character, yet I can have no scruple with regard to a lady of your appearance. As for me, I have lived a great many years in this neighbourhood, and am not afraid of having my character enquired into.”
She spoke this with a little warmth, which made Henrietta imagine she expected the same degree of confidence she had shown: so making a merit of necessity, she appeared very well satisfied, and immediately took possession of her new apartment.