In about half an hour after she had sent this second note, Mr Giles Arbe desired to be admitted, that he might deliver to her a message from his cousin.
She recollected having heard, from Selina, that he was a very absent, but worthy old man, and that he had the very best temper of any person breathing.
She did not hesitate, therefore, to receive him; and his appearance announced, at once, the latter quality, by a smile the most inartificial, which was evidently the emanation of a kind heart, opening to immediate good will at sight of a fellow-creature. It seemed the visible index of a good and innocent mind; and his manners had the most singular simplicity.
His cousin, he said, had desired him to acquaint her, that she could not call, because she was particularly engaged; and could not write, because, she was particularly hurried. 'And whenever I have a commission from my cousin,' he continued, 'I always think it best to deliver it in her own words, for two or three reasons; one of which is that my own might not be half as good; for she is the most accomplished young lady living, I am told; and my other reasons you'll do me a favour by not asking me to mention.'
'I may, at least infer, then, Sir, that, when less hurried, and less engaged, Miss Arbe means to have the goodness to come, or to write to me?'
'I don't doubt it: those ladies that she don't like should see her with you, can hardly keep watching her all day long.'
'What ladies, Sir?'
'O, I must not mention names!' returned he, smiling; 'my cousin charged me not. My fair cousin likes very well to be obeyed. But, may be, so do you, too? For they tell me it's not an uncommon thing among ladies. And if that's the case, I shall find myself in a dilemma; for my cousin has the best right; and yet, what have you done to me that I should deny you what you ask me?'
Then looking earnestly, but with an air so innocent, that it was impossible to give offence, in her face, he added, 'My cousin has often told me a great many things about you; yet she never mentioned your being so pretty! But may be she thought I might find it out.'
Ellis enquired whether he were acquainted with the nature of her application to Miss Arbe.
He nodded an assent, but checking himself from confirming it, cried, 'My cousin bid me say nothing; for she will have it that I always mention things that should not be told; and that makes me very careful. So I hope you won't be angry if you find me rather upon my guard.'
Ellis disclaimed all inquisitive designs, beyond desiring to know, whether Miss Arbe meant that she should discuss her situation with him, and receive his counsel how she should proceed.
'My cousin never asks my counsel,' he answered: 'she knows every thing best herself. She is very clever, they tell me. She often recounts to me how she surprises people. So does her papa. I believe they think I should not discover it else. And I don't know but they are in the right, for I am a very indifferent judge. But I can't make out, with that gentle air of yours, and so pretty a face, how you can have made those ladies take such a dislike to you?'
'A dislike, Sir?'
'Yes; Lady Arramede talks of you with prodigious contempt, and – '
Ellis colouring at this word, hung back, evidently declining to hear another; but Mr Giles, not remarking this, went on. 'And Miss Brinville can't endure you, neither. It's a curious thing to see what an angry look comes over her features, when she talks of you. Do you know the reason?'
'I flatter myself it is not to be known, Sir! Certainly I am innocent of any design of offending her.'
'Why then perhaps she does not know what she has taken amiss, herself, poor lady! She's only affronted, and can't tell why. It will happen so sometimes, to those pretty ladies, when they begin going a little down hill. And they can't help it. They don't know what to make of it themselves, poor things! But we can see how it is better, we lookers-on.'
He then seated himself upon an arm-chair, and, leaning back at his ease, continued talking, but without looking at Ellis, or seeming to address her.
'I always pity them, the moment I see them, those pretty creatures, even when they are in their prime. I always think what they have got to go through. After seeing every body admire them, to see nobody look at them! And when they cast their eyes on a glass, to find themselves every day changing, – and always for the worse! It is but hard upon them, I really think, when they have done nothing to deserve it. It is but a short time ago that that Miss Brinville was almost as pretty as this young harp-player here.' —
'Sir!' cried Ellis, surprised.
'Ma'am?' cried he, starting, and looking round; and then, smiling at himself, adding, 'I protest I did not think of your being so near me! I had forgot that. But I hope you won't take it ill?'
'By no means,' she answered; and asked whether she might write a few lines by him to Miss Arbe.
He willingly consented.
She then drew up an animated representation, to that lady, of the irksome situation into which she was cast, from the evident distrust manifested by Miss Matson; and the suspicious speed with which the other bills had been delivered. She meant to send her small accounts immediately to all her scholars, and entreated Miss Arbe to use her interest in hastening their discharge.
When she raised her head to give this, with an apology, to Mr Giles, she saw him unfolding some small papers, which he began very earnestly to examine. Not to interrupt him, she took up some needle-work; but, upon looking, soon after, at the chimney-piece, she missed the packet which she had placed there, of her bills, and then with the utmost surprise, perceived that it was in his hands.
She waited a few instants, in expectation that he would either put it down, or make some excuse for his curiosity; but he seemed to think of nothing less. He sorted and counted the bills, and began casting them up.
'Have you then the goodness, Sir,' said Ellis, 'to prepare yourself for acquainting Miss Arbe with the state of my affairs?'
He started again at this question, and looked a little scared; but, after a minute's perplexity, he suddenly arose, and hastily refolding, and placing them upon the chimney-piece, said, with a good deal of confusion, 'I beg your pardon a thousand times! I don't well know how this happened; but the chimney-piece looks so like my own, – and the fire was so comfortable, – that I suppose I thought I was at home, and took that parcel for one that the servant had put there for me. And I was wondering to myself when I had ordered all those linens, and muslins, and the like: I could not recollect one article of them.'
He then, after again begging her pardon, took leave.
While Ellis was ruminating whether this strange conduct were the effect of absence, oddity, or curiosity, he abruptly returned, and said, 'I protest I was going without my errand, at last! Did you bid me tell my cousin that all those bills were paid?'
'All paid? – alas, no! – not one of them!'
'And why not? You should always pay your bills, my dear.'
Ellis looked at him in much perplexity, to see whether this were uttered as a sneer, or as a remonstrance; but soon perceived, by the earnestness of his countenance, that it was the latter; and then, with a sigh, answered, 'You are undoubtedly right, Sir! I am the first to condemn all that appears against me! But I made my late attempt with a persuasion that I was as secure of repaying others, as of serving myself. I would not, else, have run any risk, where I should not have been the sole sufferer.'
'But what,' said he, staring, and shutting the door, and not seeming to comprehend her, 'what is the reason that you can't pay your bills?'
'A very simple reason, Sir – I have not the power!'
'Not the power? – what, are you very poor, then?'
Ellis could not forbear smiling, but seeing him put his hand in his pocket, hastened to answer, 'Yes, Sir, – but very proud, too! I am sometimes, therefore, involved in the double distress, of being obliged to refuse the very assistance I require.'