CHAPTER LXXI
Her head bowed low; her bonnet drawn over her eyes; ignorant what courseshe took, and earnest only to discover any inlet into the country bywhich she might immediately quit the town; Juliet, with hurriedfootsteps, and trembling apprehensions, became again a Wanderer.
She passed through various streets, but, unacquainted with London, read,without any aid to her purpose, their names, till, printed in largecharacters, her eyes were struck with the word Piccadilly; and,presently, she was accosted by an ordinary man, who had a long whip inhis hand, and who, holding open the door of a carriage, asked whethershe would have a cast; saying that he was ready to set off immediately.
Finding that the vehicle was a stage-coach, she eagerly accepted theproposal, and seated herself next to an elderly woman.
The man demanded whether she meant to go all the way.
She answered in the affirmative; and, to her inexpressible satisfaction,was driven out of London.
Not to risk discovering to her fellow-travellers so extraordinary acircumstance, as that of beginning an excursion in utter ignorance whereit might end, she forbore asking any questions; and left to the time ofher alighting at the spot to which the stage was destined, her ownacquaintance with her local situation.
It was not, therefore, till she descended from the coach, that she foundthat she had taken the road to Bagshot.
The immediate plan which, in her way, she had formed, was to enter thefirst shop that she saw open; thence to write to Gabriella; and then tostroll on to the nearest village, and lodge herself in the first cleancottage which could afford her a room.
The sight, however, of the Salisbury stage, gave her a desire to travelinstantly further from London; and she asked whether there were a vacantplace. She was immediately accommodated; and her journey thither, thoughlong, and passed in dreadful apprehension, was without accident orevent.
Arrived at Salisbury, she quitted the machine, and her fellowtravellers, with whom she had scarcely exchanged a word; and, hopingthat she was now out of the way of pursuit, she put her plan intoexecution, by writing a tranquillizing line to Gabriella, from astationer's shop; and then, set forth in search of a dwelling.
This was by no means easy to find. A solitary stranger, bearing her ownsmall baggage, after travelling all night, was not very likely to beseen but with eyes of scrutiny and suspicion. Yet her air, her manner,and her language made her application always best received by the upperclass of trades-people, who were most able to discern, that suchbelonged not to any vulgar or ordinary person: but, when they found thatshe enquired for a lodging, without giving any name, or any reference,they held back, alike, from granting her admission, or forwarding herwish by any recommendation.
The evident caution with which she hid as much as possible of her face,made the beauty of what was still necessarily visible, create as muchill opinion as admiration; though the perfect modesty of her deportmentrescued her from receiving any offence.
In the smaller shops, and by the meaner and poorer sort of people, hercarrying her parcel herself, levelled her, instantly, to their own rank;while her demand of assistance, her loneliness and even her loveliness,sunk her far beneath it, in their opinion; and, almost with one accord,they bluntly told her that she might find a lodging at an inn.
Helpless, distressed, she wandered some time in this fruitless research;too much self-occupied to remark the buildings, the neatness, theantiquities, or the singularities of the city which she was patrolling;till her eyes were caught by the little rivulets which, in most of thestreets, separate the foot-path from the high-road, by perceiving tworuddy-cheeked, smiling little cherubs, attempting to paddle over one ofthem, and playing so incautiously, that they seemed every moment indanger of falling into the water.
She hastened towards them, to point out a bridge, somewhat higher up, bywhich they might more safely pass; but the elder child, a rosy boy,careless and sportive, heeded her not; till, finding the stream deeperthan he expected, his little feet slipt, and he would inevitably havebeen under water, had not Juliet, with dextrous speed, caught him by thecoat.
She aided him to scramble out, though with much difficulty, for he waswet through, and covered with mud. Frightened out of his little senses,he set up an unappeaseable cry; in which the other child, a prettylittle girl, impelled by babyish though unconscious sympathy, joined,with all the vociferation which her feeble lungs were capable ofemitting.
Juliet, with that kindness which childish helplessness ought always toinspire, soothed them with gentle words, and persuaded the boy to hastento his home, that he might take off his wet cloaths before he caughtcold. But they both sat down to cry at their leisure; though rather asif they did not understand, than as if they resisted her counsel.
Pitying their simple sufferings, she offered the boy a penny, to buy agingerbread cake, if he would rise.
Quick, or rather immediate, now, was the transition from despondence totransport. The boy not merely wiped his eyes, and ceased his sobs, but,all smiles and delight, began a rapid prattling of where he should buy,and of what sort should be, his cake; while every word, rapturously,though indistinctly, was echoed by the little girl, not less slack inreviving.
The elasticity, however, of their little persons, kept not entirely pacewith that of their spirits. The wet attire of the boy, which his seat onthe dust had rendered as heavy as it was uncomfortable, nearly disabledhim from rising; and his little sister, who had lost one of her shoes inthe rivulet, had run a thorn into her foot, and could not stand withoutcrying.
The children were not able to give any account of who they were that wasintelligible; nor of whence they came, save that it was from a great,great way off. Unwilling to leave them in so pitiable a plight, Juliet,observing that the street, which led out of the town, was empty, lookedfor a clean spot, and, bending upon one knee, had just drawn out thesplinter from the foot of the little girl, when the sound of the voiceof a female, who was approaching, calling out, 'Here I be, my loveys!here comes mammy!' so miraculously electrified the little creatures,that, forgetting all impediment to motion, they bounded up, delighted;the boy no longer sensible to the weight of his wet garments, nor thegirl to the tenderness of her hurt foot: and both capered to embrace theknees of their mammy; whose eyes alone could return their caresses; herhands being engaged in holding a heavy basket upon her head.
But when she perceived their condition, she anxiously demanded what hadhappened.
They both again began grievously to cry, while the boy related that hehad been drowned, but that the _dood ady_ (good lady) had come and savedhis life: and the little girl, interrupting him every moment, keptpresenting her foot, in telling a similar story of the kindness of the_dood ady_.
To Juliet scarcely a word of their narrations was intelligible; but, tothe ears of their mother, accustomed to their dialect, their lisping andtheir imperfect speech, these prattling details were as potent ineloquence, as the most polished orations of Cicero or Demosthenes, areto those of the classical scholar.
The gratitude of the good woman for the services rendered to her littleones, was so warm and cordial, that she cried for joy, in pouring forthblessings upon the head of Juliet, for having lent so friendly a hand,she said, to her poor boy; and having done what she called soneighbourly a kindness by her dear little girl.
She had directed her children, she said, to go straight to Dame Goss's,beyond the turnpike; having had business to transact at a house whichthey could not enter; but the little dearys were not yet come to theirmemory; and, but for so good a friend, the poor loveys might have lainin the wet and the mud, till they had been half choaked.
Seeing the children thus safely restored to their best friend, Julietmeant to continue her solitary search; but the good woman, judging fromher kind offices, that there was nothing to fear from her disdain; andconcluding from her parcel, that there was nothing to respect in herrank, frankly demanded her assistance, for helping on the children asfar as to the turnpike; simply adding,
that she would do as good a turnfor her, in requital, another time; but that her basket was heavilyladen, and the poor little things, one without its shoe, and the otherin wet cloaths, would be but troublesome, in such a broiling sun, topull all the way by her petticoat.
Cruelly experiencing want of succour herself, Juliet, always open tocharity, was now more than usually ready to serve or oblige. With theutmost alacrity, therefore, complying with the request, she depositedher packet in the poor woman's basket; bound her pocket-handkerchiefround the foot and ancle of the little girl; and then, taking a hand ofeach of the children, and gently alluring them on, by lively and playfultalk, she conducted them to the turnpike; without any other difficultythan some fatigue to herself; which was amply compensated by thepleasure of helping the little innocents, and their affectionate mother;joined to the relief to her own feelings, afforded by a social exercise,that drew her, for a while, from her fearful reflections.
The woman, charmed by such kindness, begged to have the direction ofJuliet, that she might call to thank her, when next she came toSalisbury; whither some business commonly brought her every four or fivemonths.
Juliet was obliged to confess herself a mere passenger; but asked, inreturn, the name and address of her new acquaintance.
Margery Fairfield, she answered, was her name, and she lived a far offin the New Forest. She was going, in a friend's cart, to Romsey, andthere her husband would meet her, and carry her little girl. She couldnever come out without her children, if she were ever so heavily laden,for her husband was at work all day, and there was nobody to take careof them in her absence.
A ray of pleasure now broke through the gloomy forebodings of Juliet;there seemed to her an opening to an asylum, during the period of herconcealment, fortunate beyond her hopes; to lodge with a rustic familyof this simple description, in so retired and remote a spot, promisingall the security and privacy that she required, with fine air, pleasantcountry, and worthy hosts.
A very few enquiries sufficed to satisfy her, that she might find asmall room, in which she could sleep; and a little further discourseprocured her all the details necessary for learning the route to thedame's cottage. She forbore, nevertheless, hinting at her design, thatneither trouble, expence, nor preparation might precede her arrival.
She regretted her inability to accompany these new friends, at once, totheir home; but her letter to Gabriella had desired that the answermight be directed to be left at the post office at Salisbury, tillcalled for; and she was too uncertain what her position might be in theNew Forest, to hazard any change of address. She was deeply anxious tohear from Gabriella; and to learn whether she had herself been soughtsince her flight.
When they reached the small, mean house of Dame Goss, beyond theturnpike, the expected cart was not yet arrived; and Juliet, beingkindly invited to take a little rest, ventured to solicit, from her newfriend, a recommendation to a cheap lodging, with some honest hostess.
Enchanted to be able to serve her, the poor woman immediately said, thatshe could no where be better than in that very house: and when itsmistress made various objections; first, that she had not a roomunoccupied; next, that she had no spare bed; and then, that her husbandwould be angry; the zealous Dame Fairfield obviated them all. The room,she said, with a significant nod, where they kept their boxes, would benever the worse for being slept in a few nights, now all the boxes wereempty; and the bed she had had for herself the last winter, could beeasily carried up stairs, for she would stop to carry it with her ownhands: and as to Master Goss, he was so fond of her little dearys, thathe could not have so bad a heart as to be off doing a service to agentlewoman who had been so kind to them.
This eloquence was all-sufficient; the real obstacle, that of aiding anunknown traveller, occuring neither to the advocate nor to the opponent.Free from the niceties of custom in higher life, and unembarrassed bythe perplexities of discriminating scruples, the good women, oftenlonely travellers themselves, saw nothing in such a situation to excitedistrust; and regarded it therefore simply as a claim upon hospitality.To have manifested good nature, was sufficient to procure credit forgood character; and to have done kind offices, was to secure theirreturn.
Dame Fairfield busily set about putting into order a little apartment,that was encumbered with trunks and boxes, which she piled one uponanother, to make a place for a small bed. She would suffer no one togive her any help; sweeping, dusting, rubbing, and arranging all thelumber herself; with an alacrity of pleasure, a gaiety of good will,that charmed away, for a while, the misery of Juliet, by the consolingpicture thus presented to her view, of untaught benevolence andgenerosity: a picture which must always be pleasing to the friend ofhuman nature, however less exalting, than when those qualities, as thecultured fruits of religion and of principle, are purified into virtues.
In this mean little lodging, to avoid being seen or heard of, Julietpassed three days, self-inclosed; with no employment but that of writinglong letters to Gabriella, which, eventually, were to be sent by thepost, or delivered by herself. This, however, not filling up her time,the wish of obliging, joined to a constant desire of acquiring, in everysituation, the art of being useful,--that art which, more than wealth,or state, or power, preserves its cultivator from wearying eitherhimself or those around him;--led her to bestow the rest of the day inaiding the woman of the house, in sundry occupations.
To have seen and examined the famous cathedral; to have found out thewalks; to have informed herself of the manufactures; and to have visitedthe antiquities and curiosities of this celebrated city, and itsneighbourhood, might have solaced the anxiety of this moment; butdiscretion baffled curiosity, and fear took place of all desire ofamusement. She could only regale her confinement by the hope of soonobtaining her freedom in an innocent and beautiful retreat; andremained, therefore, perfectly stationary, till she conceived that ananswer might be returned from Gabriella.
On the evening of that day, she prevailed upon Dame Goss, whose morningswere all engaged, but whose good will she had now completely secured, tobe her messenger to the post-office.
Without any letter, however, the messenger returned, though with anacknowledgement that one was arrived; but that it could only bedelivered to Miss Ellis herself; or to a written order with a receipt.
Juliet was immediately preparing to write one, when Dame Goss said,'They do tell me that you be a person advertised in the Londonnews-papers? It ben't true; be it?'
'Good Heaven, no!' Juliet ejaculated.
'Pray, be you the person called, "Commonly known by the name of MissEllis?"'
Juliet, changing colour, asked why she made that enquiry.
The woman, instead of answering, looked earnestly in her face, with anair of stedfast examination.
In the greatest dismay, Juliet turned from her, without hazardinganother question, and was going up stairs; but Dame Goss begged that shewould just stop a bit, because two persons were a coming, that she hadpromised should have a peep at her.
Shocked and terrified, Juliet would still have passed on; but an instantsufficed to tell her, that, in such an emergency, not to make someimmediate attempt to escape, was to be lost.
Turning, therefore, back, 'Dame Goss,' she cried, slipping a crown-pieceinto her hands, with an apology for giving her so much trouble, 'hastenagain to the post-office, and say that I shall come for my lettermyself.'
The woman, without question or demur, received the money and set off.And she was no sooner out of sight, than Juliet, taking her own smallpacket, unnoticed by Master Goss, who was at work in his little garden,went forth by the opposite way; turning, as quickly as possible, fromthe high road, where she might most naturally be pursued; and, for allelse, committing her footsteps to chance and to hope,--those last, andnot seldom, best friends of distress and difficulty.
Wandering on, by paths unknown to herself, with feet not more swift thantrembling; fearing she was followed, yet not daring, by a glance around,to ascertain either danger or safety, she overtook a young
village-girl,who was hoydening with a smart footman; but who caught her attention, byrepresenting to him, that, if he detained her any longer, she shouldmiss the return-chaise, and not know how to get back to Romsey; for hermother would be too angry to wait for her even a moment.
The sound of Romsey revived the spirits of Juliet. If she could jointhis young person, she might find a conveyance, equally unsuspected andexpeditious, to within a mile or two of the very spot where she hopedfor concealment. She loitered, therefore, in sight, till the footmanretreated, and then, following the girl, though with affright, byreturning to the town, she soon found herself in the church-yard of thecathedral; where the damsel encountered her waiting mother, with whom,boldly defying her wrath, she began, sturdily, to wrangle.
Juliet stood aloof, during the altercation, still hoping to accompanythem in their route. The beautiful Gothic structure before her, thelatest and finest remains of ancient elegance, lightness, and taste, wasnearly lost to her sight, from the misery and pre-occupation of hermind; though appearing now with peculiar effect, from the shadows castupon it by the rising moon. Yet soon, in defiance of all absorption, themagnetic affinity, in a mind natively pious, of religious solemnity withsorrow, made the antique grace of this wonderful edifice, catch, even inthis instant of terrour and agitation, the admiring eye of Juliet; whosemind was always open to excellence, even when most incapable ofreceiving any species of pleasure.
She leaned, for a moment's repose, in a recess of the building, whichthe shade rendered dark, nearly sinking under the horrour of pursuit,and the shame of eluding it. To find herself advertised in anews-paper!--the blood mounted indignantly into her cheeks.--Perhaps tobe described!--perhaps, named! and with a reward for herdiscovery!--cold from them, at this surmise, the blood again descendedto her heart: yet every feeling was transient, that led not toimmediate escape; every reflection was momentary, that turned, not topersonal safety.
The dispute between the mother and daughter was interrupted,--notfinished,--by the re-appearance of the footman, who told them that theposition was just going off.
They scampered instantly to an inn, from the gateway of which apost-chaise was issuing.
Juliet, who had pursued, now joined them, and proposed making one intheir party.
The women neither refused nor consented; they renewed their contention,and heard only one another: but the postilion, to whom Juliet held outhalf-a-crown, gave her a place with readiness,--and she was driven toRomsey.