Chapter VIII

Such were the facts circumstantially communicated by Sarah. They afforded to Constantia a theme of ardent meditation. The similitude between her own destiny and that of this unhappy exile could not fail to be observed. Immersed in poverty, friendless, burdened with the maintenance and nurture of her father, their circumstances were nearly parallel. The catastrophe of her tale was the subject of endless but unsatisfactory conjecture.

She had disappeared between the flight of Baxter and the dawn of day. What path had she taken? Was she now alive? Was she still an inhabitant of this city? Perhaps there was a coincidence of taste as well as fortunes between them. The only friend that Constantia ever enjoyed, congenial with her in principles, sex, and age, was at a distance that forbade communication. She imagined that Ursula Monrose would prove worthy of her love, and felt unspeakable regret at the improbability of their ever meeting.

Meanwhile the dominion of cold began to be felt, and the contagious fever entirely disappeared. The return of health was hailed with rapture by all ranks of people. The streets were once more busy and frequented. The sensation of present security seemed to shut out from all hearts the memory of recent disasters. Public entertainments were thronged with auditors. A new theatre had lately been constructed, and a company of English Comedians had arrived during the prevalence of the malady. They now began their exhibitions, and their audiences were overflowing.

Such is the motley and ambiguous condition of human society, such is the complexity of all effects, from what cause soever they spring, that none can tell whether this destructive pestilence was on, the whole, productive of most pain or most pleasure. Those who had been sick and had recovered found in this circumstance a source of exultation. Others made haste by new marriages to supply the place of wives, husbands, and children, whom the scarcely-extinguished pestilence had swept away.

Constantia, however, was permitted to take no share in the general festivity. Such was the colour of her fate, that the yellow fever, by affording her a respite from toil, supplying leisure for the acquisition of a useful branch of knowledge, and leading her to the discovery of a cheaper, more simple, and more wholesome method of subsistence, had been friendly, instead of adverse to her happiness. Its disappearance, instead of relieving her from suffering, was the signal for the approach of new cares.

Of her ancient customers, some were dead, and others were slow in resuming their ancient habitations, and their ordinary habits. Meanwhile two wants were now created and were urgent. The season demanded a supply of fuel, and her rent had accumulated beyond her power to discharge. M'Crea no sooner returned from the country than he applied to her for payment. Some proprietors, guided by humanity, had remitted their dues, but M'Crea was not one of these. According to his own representation, no man was poorer than himself, and the punctual payment of all that was owing to him was no more than sufficient to afford him a scanty subsistence.

He was aware of the indigence of the Dudleys, and was therefore extremely importunate for payment, and could scarcely be prevailed upon to allow them the interval of a day for the discovery of expedients. This day was passed by Constantia in fruitless anxieties. The ensuing evening had been fixed for a repetition of his visit. The hour arrived, but her invention was exhausted in vain. M'Crea was punctual to the minute. Constantia was allowed no option. She merely declared that the money demanded she had not to give, nor could she foresee any period at which her inability would be less than it then was.

These declarations were heard by her visitant with marks of unspeakable vexation. He did not fail to expatiate on the equity of his demands, the moderation and forbearance he had hitherto shown, notwithstanding the extreme urgency of his own wants, and the inflexible rigour with which he had been treated by _his_ creditors. This rhetoric was merely the prelude to an intimation that he must avail himself of any lawful means, by which he might gain possession of _his own_.

This insinuation was fully comprehended by Constantia, but it was heard without any new emotions. Her knowledge of her landlord's character taught her to expect but one consequence. He paused to observe what effect would be produced by this indirect menace. She answered, without any change of tone, that the loss of habitation and furniture, however inconvenient at this season, must be patiently endured. If it were to be prevented only by the payment of money, its prevention was impossible.

M'Crea renewed his regrets that there should be no other alternative. The law sanctioned his claims, and justice to his family, which was already large, and likely to increase, required that they should not be relinquished; yet such was the mildness of his temper and his aversion to proceed to this extremity, that he was willing to dispense with immediate payment on two conditions. First, that they should leave his house within a week, and secondly, that they should put into his hands some trinket or movable, equal in value to the sum demanded, which should be kept by him as a pledge.

This last hint suggested an expedient for obviating the present distress. The lute with which Mr. Dudley was accustomed to solace his solitude was, if possible, more essential to his happiness than shelter or food. To his daughter it possessed little direct power to please. It was inestimable merely for her father's sake. Its intrinsic value was at least equal to the sum due, but to part with it was to bereave him of a good which nothing else could supply. Besides, not being a popular and saleable instrument, it would probably be contemptuously rejected by the ignorance and avarice of M'Crea.

There was another article in her possession of some value in traffic, and of a kind which M'Crea was far more likely to accept. It was the miniature portrait of her friend, executed by a German artist, and set in gold. This image was a precious though imperfect substitute for sympathy and intercourse with the original. Habit had made this picture a source of a species of idolatry. Its power over her sensations was similar to that possessed by a beautiful Madonna over the heart of a juvenile enthusiast. It was the mother of the only devotion which her education had taught her to consider as beneficial or true.

She perceived the necessity of parting with it, on this occasion, with the utmost clearness, but this necessity was thought upon with indescribable repugnance. It seemed as if she had not thoroughly conceived the extent of her calamity till now. It seemed as if she could have endured the loss of eyes with less reluctance than the loss of this inestimable relic. Bitter were the tears which she shed over it as she took it from her bosom, and consigned it to those rapacious hands that were stretched out to receive it. She derived some little consolation from the promises of this man, that he would keep it safely till she was able to redeem it.

The other condition--that of immediate removal from the house--seemed at first sight impracticable. Some reflection, however, showed her that the change might not only be possible but useful. Among other expedients for diminishing expense, that of limiting her furniture and dwelling to the cheapest standard had often occurred. She now remembered that the house occupied by Monrose was tenantless; that its antiquity, its remote and unpleasant situation, and its small dimensions, might induce M'Crea, to whom it belonged, to let it at a much lower price than that which he now exacted. M'Crea would have been better pleased if her choice had fallen on a different house; but he had powerful though sordid reasons for desiring the possession of this tenement. He assented therefore to her proposal, provided her removal took place without delay.

In the present state of her funds this removal was impossible. Mere shelter would not suffice during this inclement season. Without fuel, neither cold could be excluded, nor hunger relieved. There was nothing convertible into money but her lute. No sacrifice was more painful, but an irresistible necessity demanded it.

Her interview with M'Crea took place while her father was absent from the room. On his return she related what had happened, and urged the necessity of parting with his favourite instrument. He listened to her tale with a sigh. "Yes," said he, "do what thou wilt, my child. It is unlikely that any one will purchase it. It is certain that no one will give for it what I gave; but thou may'st try.

"It has been to me a faithful friend. I know not how I should have lived without it. Its notes have cheered me with the sweet remembrances of old times. It was, in some degree, a substitute for the eyes which I have lost; but now let it go, and perform for me perhaps the dearest of its services. It may help us to sustain the severities of this season."

There was no room for delay. She immediately set out in search of a purchaser. Such a one was most likely to be found in the keeper of a musical repository, who had lately arrived from Europe. She entertained but slight hopes that an instrument scarcely known among her neighbours would be bought at any price, however inconsiderable.

She found the keeper of the shop engaged in conversation with a lady, whose person and face instantly arrested the attention of Constantia. A less sagacious observer would have eyed the stranger with indifference. But Constantia was ever busy in interpreting the language of features and looks. Her sphere of observation had been narrow, but her habits of examining, comparing, and deducing, had thoroughly exhausted that sphere. These habits were eminently strong with relation to this class of objects. She delighted to investigate the human countenance, and treasured up numberless conclusions as to the coincidence between mental and external qualities.

She had often been forcibly struck by forms that were accidentally seen, and which abounded with this species of mute expression. They conveyed at a single glance what could not be imparted by volumes. The features and shape sunk, as it were, into perfect harmony with sentiments and passions. Every atom of the frame was pregnant with significance. In some, nothing was remarkable but this power of the outward figure to exhibit the internal sentiments. In others, the intelligence thus unveiled was remarkable for its heterogeneous or energetic qualities; for its tendency to fill her heart with veneration or abhorrence, or to involve her in endless perplexities.

The accuracy and vividness with which pictures of this kind presented themselves to her imagination resembled the operations of a sixth sense. It cannot be doubted, however, that much was owing to the enthusiastic tenor of her own conceptions, and that her conviction of the truth of the picture principally flowed from the distinctness and strength of its hues.

The figure which she now examined was small, but of exquisite proportions. Her complexion testified the influence of a torrid sun; but the darkness veiled, without obscuring, the glowing tints of her cheek. The shade was remarkably deep; but a deeper still was required to become incompatible with beauty. Her features were irregular, but defects of symmetry were amply supplied by eyes that anticipated speech and positions which conveyed that to which language was inadequate.

It was not the chief tendency of her appearance to seduce or to melt. Hers were the polished cheek and the mutability of muscle, which belong to woman, but the genius conspicuous in her aspect was heroic and contemplative. The female was absorbed, so to speak, in the rational creature, and the emotions most apt to be excited in the gazer partook less of love than of reverence.

Such is the portrait of this stranger, delineated by Constantia. I copy it with greater willingness, because, if we substitute a nobler stature, and a complexion less uniform and delicate, it is suited with the utmost accuracy to herself. She was probably unconscious of this resemblance; but this circumstance may be supposed to influence her in discovering such attractive properties in a form thus vaguely seen. These impressions, permanent and cogent as they were, were gained at a single glance. The purpose which led her thither was too momentous to be long excluded.

"Why," said the master of the shop, "this is lucky. Here is a lady who has just been inquiring for an instrument of this kind. Perhaps the one you have will suit her. If you will bring it to me, I will examine it, and, if it is complete, will make a bargain with you." He then turned to the lady who had first entered, and a short dialogue in French ensued between them. The man repeated his assurances to Constantia, who, promising to hasten back with the instrument, took her leave. The lute, in its structure and ornaments, has rarely been surpassed. When scrutinised by this artist it proved to be complete, and the price demanded for it was readily given.

By this means the Dudleys were enabled to change their habitation, and to supply themselves with fuel. To obviate future exigences, Constantia betook herself once more to the needle. They persisted in the use of their simple fare, and endeavoured to contract their wants, and methodize their occupations, by a standard as rigid as possible. She had not relinquished her design of adopting a new and more liberal profession, but though, when indistinctly and generally considered, it seemed easily effected, yet the first steps which it would be proper to take did not clearly or readily suggest themselves. For the present she was contented to pursue the beaten track, but was prepared to benefit by any occasion that time might furnish, suitable to the execution of her plan.