Miriam Copley

Chapter I

A CHANGE IN MY PROSPECTS. I passed several hours in a state of torpor, that was broken only for a few seconds at a time by a series of novel experiences. Cor dials were administered to me ; a doctor with the gentlest possible voice was summoned to prescribe for me ; tender hands supported me when I was required to move ; silver whispers floated through my ears ; I was conscious of VOL. II. B being lowered by degrees into a delicious, vo luptuous volume of warm water, in which I laved and paddled with a drowsy sense of luxury, and from which I was taken out and rubbed with brushes and towels, so that my veins and nerves tingled with excitement and a hot glow came on all my skin ; I was aware also of being lifted into a magnificent bed, covered with a grand canopy, where I slept and woke, took cups of hot broth, and then once more slept and woke — again and again.

When I first fairly opened my eyes and roused myself to collect my thoughts, a feeling of wonder held me as to who the persons were who had treated me with such exquisite humanity, and where they had hidden themselves. Where was the doctor? where the ladies? where the grave and sober nurse ? had I only dreamt of such charitable beings ? and would the bright light streaming through the window opposite my bed restore me to my old dread of all that bore the form of men ? These questions were answered by a lady stepping from behind the bed-curtain, and asking me how I felt. When I informed her that I was quite weU again, she proceeded to tell me that I had passed nearly three days in a state of semi-consciousness, and that she had watched me for many hours of that time. She told me I should soon be strong again, and as long as her weak powers would enable her she would protect me.

And, as she gave me this cheering assurance, she stooped down and kissed me lightly on my eyelids, and, smiling a little naively, she added in a rich but soft voice : — "You're a pretty girl, Miriam." " How do you know my name ? " " I was told it. Do you know mine ? ' "No, I don't know your name, and I don't know you," I answered. In saying this I spoke truly, for though it was Miss Ufford who addressed me, she was so altogether different from what she appeared to B me when I first saw her in the " George " parlour, that for a few moments I could not recognise her. Possibly the difference was caused by her change of costume ; for now she no longer wore her beaver bonnet, and dark veil, and cloth cloak, but was habited in a closely-fitting stuff dress. She did not look so brilliant, so dazzlingly beautiful ; she was not so tall, she was not so imposing as the young lady of the parlour — she was graver, more staid, and with less animation.

Her light hair was dressed so as to lie close to her head, and I remarked she had no ornaments on her person — not even a ring on her fingers. But in whatever respects she seemed altered, she also appeared to me improved. Her quietness and composure of manner impressed me as being only a veil beneath which was partly hid a nature not only lovable, but as powerful as it was truly feminine. "Come, can't you recall my face now?" she inquired with a smile, after she had given me a couple of minutes for reassembling my scattered faculties. " You're the lady I saw the first night, with the other lady." " That's right." "You are Miss Ufford." " Right again." " And you—" " Well ? " " Are his cousin." " Yes," replied Miss Ufford, with a return of her droll smUe, " I am, as you say, his cousin." " Oh !

I have been dreaming about him." Another smile from the lady. " Have you seen him, ma'am? " " Yes, and he has been here to look at you." " Has he told you anything about me?" " He has left a message for you." " What is it, ma'am ? " I cried, springing up in my bed. " He wishes you to know that Mrs. Muscut is in her usual health; she is not dead; she re covered from the overdose of medicine that was given her ; the drug only sent her to a sound sleep. All is well. Now compose yourself, I must leave you for a short time." " Oh, do not go, Miss Ufford. I am very frightened." " I will stop — only you may not talk." On this assurance I let my head faU back n my pillow, and, closing my eyes, seemed to sleep. I honestly tried to slumber, but I could not succeed in the attempt. So I raised my eyelids to feast myself once more with a sight of Miss Ufford, and I beheld, to my surprise, and awe, and sacred delight, that lovely girl on her knees, making in silence a short prayer to God.

My looking at her did not disturb her, although she was aware I observed her. Without rising, she took my hand in hers and continued her quiet entreaties. Never had I dreamed of such happiness, such solemn joy as then pervaded me. I lay mutely resolving to do my utmost to be a good woman, and the tears silently fell down my cheeks. Then Miss Ufford rose from her knees and glided from the room, and I was not any longer afraid to be left alone. I remained another night in the same bed, and almost the whole of the following day, being visited several times by my kind friends, Mrs. Cookesley and Miss Ufford; but when the dusk of evening began to creep on, a servant-girl entered the room, and, encourag ing me to get up, offered to assist me in my toilet. This person turned out to be Miss Ufford's maid; and she brought with her a complete suit of sumptuous apparel — linen, stout shoes, stuff frock, a bonnet, and a warm cloak — such as I had never worn.

This raiment was for me ; and the maid who brought the clothes, a good-natured, clever girl, helped me to put them on, and with a good heart did her best to brush a gloss in my thick, dark hair, and put the polish of civilization on my person. When this was accomplished, Mrs. Cookesley bustled into the room, and taking me bodily up in her arms, although I was nearly as tall as she was, carried me down a flight of stairs, hurried along a succession of passages, then went down more stairs, and eventually deposited me in a carriage that was standing drawn close up by the side of the door, leading into the High Street. In another instant, the maid had taken her seat by my side, and we were conveyed about a couple of hundred yards, across the irregular market square of Aldeburgh, when the vehicle stopped at a little detached cottage, that contained about six small rooms, and commanded a view of the sea, the market-square, and the grand old ruins of Dun wich Castle, standing upon a hill, about a mile from the town, and half a mile off the post-road.

As an invalid, I was immediately consigned to a bed in a little room in this small cottage. But before I composed myself for the night Miss Ufford visited me, and informed me that I was her guest, and should remain so as long as I was a good girl. Again I slept soundly. It was scarcely daybreak when I awoke, but I could not rest any longer in bed. I rose from the white dimity-curtained couch on which I had rested, and inspected my apartment and all its con tents. I found a little toilet-table iu an ap propriate corner, and all the articles of appa rel I had worn on the previous day neatly folded up, and laid upon two chairs. I drew up the blind, and saw the grand ocean tossing about merrily before me. Then I dressed. How I enjoyed the dignity and luxury of washing like a lady ! My last operation before putting on my stuff frock was to brush my hair as furiously and long as Miss Ufford's maid had brushed it the night before.

When this was done, and I had clad myself with my outer robe, I gazed at my semblance in the looking-glass with unmitigated astonishment. Had I seen myself for the first time in a room full of people, I should never have recognised myself. Why, I was nearly a woman in height. I was very thin, but my dress of dark green stuff was well made, and showed off my figure to the best advantage ; my hands were no longer grimed with dirt, and were as clean as they were well shaped, — they would soon be come as white as Miss Ufford's ; my neck certainly was as long and straight as a bit of tape, and ran up, from the white muslin tuck which concealed my angular collar-bones and shoulder-tops, like a stick of macaroni, but at the top of it was a head, the external linea ments of which now put its organs of thought into a state of activity.

I saw a profusion of black hair rising from a well-shaped, ample — but not conspicuously large — forehead, and falling back over my shoulder-blades ; I saw a small, oval face, pale, and painfully pointed about the chin and nose, but possessing the points requisite for a very commanding and singular style of loveliness ; I saw, moreover, a pair of saucy, pouting lips, and a pair of dark eyes, that seemed positively enormous as they shone forth over the starved cheeks, and I marked with satisfaction that they were veiled with longer lashes than I had ever seen on any other person, and were surmounted by thick, prominent curves of fine black hair, that shadowed off delicately at their extremi ties. My readers must bear in mind the nature of my life, which, of course, did not admit of my having, scarcely on any previous occasion, had the pleasure of a deliberate examination of my bodily characteristics.

Aha, Miriam Copley! I see now what your ill-starred father meant by telling you that your dark eyes would help you to get a living. It's no longer a mystery why Mr. Rawleigh Ufford took it into his head to sketch you, and why Mr. MUlicent called you a witch in child hood, or some such thing. Miss Ufford, too, praised your looks, Miriam Copley, and kissed your eyelids! Surely 'tis a comfortable, pleasant, cheer ing, exhilarating thing, to discover one's self to be beautiful ! It may be foolish for men to prize highly the charms of feminine loveliness and grace. It may be true that, while the beautiful is to be highly esteemed in all the other objects of nature, it is to be mistrusted and contemned in woman. But the powers of error will triumph in this particular ; and as long as the world is a world, no woman will really influence it, through her own self, and apart from external aids, whom the malignant fairy has cursed with ugliness !

Such thoughts as these were passing through my head, when the door of my room was opened and Miss Ufford entered on tiptoe. "What! already up and dressed?" she said, stretching out to me a hand which I took, and kneeling kissed. " Up, child — up from your knees, — I am not a queen." " But you are an angel." " Tut, — perhaps you'll change your mind soon. Perhaps I shall buy a cane and discipline you after the fashion of Mrs. Muscut." " Have you heard more of her, ma'am ? " " No questions about that terrible old woman, now. Come and eat your breakfast. You ought to have an appetite by this time." She led the way downstairs, and I followed her into a pretty little parlour, scantily furnished, but containing a piano, a mirror, a few pictures, and some other trifling articles of luxury, that greatly impressed my unsophis ticated intelligence.

On the table the materials for breakfasting were spread on a white cloth, and in an easy-chair, by the fire, sate the grand old fragment of an English gentleman, whose altercation with Mr. Tomlinson in the billiard-room I had witnessed. " Papa," said Miss Ufford, sedately, " this is my young friend, Miriam Copley. Allow me to introduce her to you. I trust you will find her an agreeable addition to our household." On this, the Honourable Algernon Ufford rose and bowed politely a welcome to me, and, having mumbled out an expression of his pleasure at making my acquaintance, sank back into his easy-chair again, and directed all his energies to the consumption of a liberal portion of oatmeal porridge, which Miss Ufford put before him. That lady then made tea for herself and me, and encouraged me to make a hearty breakfast.

We were a silent trio. Miss Ufford read a letter. Her papa, having devoured his porridge, treated an enormous quantity of ham and bread and butter in the same way, and when he had quite satisfied his appetite, he sate without speaking, looking intently at his long, well shaped hands, which he held up, folded and still, before him, his elbows meanwhile resting on the arms of his chair. His white locks and white whiskers and huge aquiline nose had a grand effect ; but I found myself thinking that, were it not for his high shirt-collars, and abundance of snowy linen, which gave him a certain respectability of appearance, he would have seemed a disorderly, wicked old man. Not one word did this strange old gentle man say during the whole of breakfast ; he never added even a grunt of approval or dissent to the little conversation that passed between Miss Ufford and myself; but when the urn and breakfast-things were carried off by the maid, he suddenly brightened up, and fixing his dim eyes on me, said, " Do you play cards ?

" " No — no, sir," I answered, with some surprise. " Umph ! — don't know how to play cards at your age ! Why, bless my soul, where have you been brought up? You're not a Wesleyan? or a Methodist? — eh? or a Pogram ? — eh ? " he inquired, not irritably, but with an air of blank astonishment. " Oh, no, papa, she's not a Wesleyan," put in Miss Ufford, with a full rich intonation. " You are all for Church and State, are you not? — true blue ? " I quickly took the cue thus given me, and wondering what on earth the words meant, said, " Oh, yes, sir ; I am all for Church and State !" " Do you hate the French ? " " Very much, sir." " Do you hate the Pope and the Papists?" " I abominate them, sir." My host was evidently well pleased with my answers, for turning to his daughter, he observed, "I hke your young friend, my dear; wondrous nice girl! — Only you must teach her to play cards. — Miss Miriam, can you play pitch-halfpenny ?

" This inquiry staggered me more than any of the previous ones. I did know how to play pitch-halfpenny, but I had a lively fear that I ought to be ashamed of having such an accomplishment at command. Again Miss Ufford came to my relief, saying, in the gravest manner, " Surely, Miriam, you can play pitch-halfpenny. It's such a capital game — and so very simple." " Yes, sir, I can play pitch-halfpenny ; — and I should like to play with you." " Then, my dear," returned the old man cordially, " we'll have a game this afternoon. Only, now, I must go off into the town to meet a few friends." — And so saying he rose, and left the room, bowing to me as if I had been a princess. " Papa is gone to the billiard-room where you saw him the other night," observed Miss Ufford as soon as her father had quitted the house.

" And now let me give you my first lesson in the arts of life." VOL. II. C Instead of proceeding, as I expected she would, to talk to me on more important mat ters, Miss Ufford took from a drawer in a little side-table a pack of cards, and gave me a brief and lucid explanation of their leading features and purposes. This was one of the occasions in my life when my quick wits gave me infinite satisfaction. It would have pained me acutely to have proved myself a dull pupil to so charming an instructress. As it was, I astonished her with my quickness of perception, retentive ness of memory, and clearness of understanding. The suits, and the mutual relations of the cards composing them, immediately adapted them selves to my mind, and ere twenty minutes were over I was playing " Beg my neighbour " with my young mistress, as if I had been famUiar with the game for years.

When I had perfectly mastered this simple game, Miss Ufford produced a cribbage-board, and intro duced me to its mysteries. Then we set-to, and had a good two hours' work at five-card cribbage, and with such facility did I make myself possessed of all the chances of the game that, although the cards were pretty evenly divided, I won the last three rubbers from my opponent. " That is very satisfactory ! " said Miss Ufford, putting up the cards. "Now you can be of real use to me, for you can play such games as this one with papa, when I am not well enough to amuse him." "Is he very fond of games, ma'am?" "Very. He cares for nothing else so much." " They seem simple things," said I, " for a gentleman to care so much about." " Very simple, — but papa is a simple man, and it will give you pleasure to please him."

" Certainly — I'U do my best to make him happy." " And to make all the world besides happy too, child, I trust." " Of course, ma'am." c2 " And why ' of course ? ' — what is your reason ?" "Because it answers. If a person makes others happy, then others will try and make that person happy. And so one is able to get on in the world. That's what I mean by saying it answers." At first Miss Ufford smiled, but the expression of amusement quickly passed away, and a grave sorrow came over her face as if I had said something that pained her acutely ; but that sad aspect disappeared like the other, and she remarked with more than her usual softness, "You're right, dear, — it does answer. And make people happy from that reason — till you have a better." " Tell me a better one." " Don't be in a hurry.

I trust you'U find the better reason out for yourself soon ; — and it will be better for you to discover it yourself than have me push it into you." " Thank you. I had rather find it out for myself." "You're a clever child." " I am, ma'am." " How do you know that?" " By seeing how stupid other people are. Ever since I was a little girl I could see the blunders of other people, how they took a great deal of trouble to do things they might have done without any trouble at all, and how they did not see the meanings of things, and how they would talk — and talk — and talk about simple matters known to everybody, as if they were known only to a few." "Miriam, it makes me tremble to hear you — I am almost afraid of you." " Oh, dear madam, do not be afraid of me. Who ? — what has made you fear me ?

Have you heard — ? Did he tell you — ? That is, Mrs. Muscut ? " " I know all about that terrible woman, and what you meant to do to her ; but I am not afraid of you for that reason. Tell me now, do you forgive her ? " " I don't know — I can't say." "Do you harbour any resentment to her?" "I would not do her a wrong now, Miss Ufford," said I slowly, after much consideration. " Ay, but would you like to hear she had come to some great misfortune ? " "Oh, yes, Miss Ufford — that I should — very much." " Then you don't forgive. Try, dear, your best — your very best to forgive her." "Why should I try to forgive her, miss?" " Because it will answer. You'll be well paid, if you try. Your ill-feeling wont hurt her, but it assuredly wUl hurt yourself. As long as you harbour one spark of malevolence to that cruel woman, a smouldering fire wiU be slowly eating away at all the goodness within you."

" But if I may not hate her, what may I do, Miss Ufford? I must do something." " Pity her. Till you've brought yourself to do so, you'll never be really happy — and the same as you were before she treated you so barbarously." Without knowing it, my gentle mistress had laid her hand straight down on the most tender of all my sore points. I could not forbear from a short cry of agony, as I exclaimed in answer : — " Oh, Miss Ufford, don't ever say such a thing as that to me again, or put me in mind of what I might have been. I shaU never lose the evil that woman has put into me. It is here — here — " I said, beating my breast. " I wiU try to keep it there, to let no one see it or imagine it, to let it do no one any harm, to keep it chained up, to allow it to devour no one except myself; but it will be there, as long as I Hve, escaping to do as much harm as pos sible, at every opportunity, and then returning worse than it was before."

In aU my acquaintance with my mistress, whenever I was impetuous, headstrong, or violent, she did not oppose me with censure, but calmed me with an increase of gentleness. It was so on this occasion. She came across the little parlour to me, put her hand on me, stroked my hair, once or twice kissed me ; and when she had soothed me into something like my ordinary composure, she persuaded me to go upstairs, and put on my bonnet and cloak, and accompany her for a walk through the town, and on the beach. Soon we were walking through the town together. We inspected all the principal points of interest, the almshouses, the town hall, and the public pump ; we even went a mile beyond the outskirts, and made a nearer survey than I had yet been enabled to make of the ruins of Dunwich Castle ; and then we turned round towards the sea-shore, by the side of which we strolled for half an hour.

There were not many people to be seen in the streets, or on the beach promenade, but the few who were visible, one and all, gave a cordial and respectful greeting to my companion. They did not stop and enter into conversation with us. (I afterwards discovered that they never did so, out of respect to Miss Ufford's wishes.) But each passer-by, man or woman, gentle or simple, accorded my mistress some form or other of hearty recognition. I became, in a certain way, proud of one who received such unmistakeable demonstrations of good will, and I felt that, as long as I Hved under her protection, I need fear no molestation from any earthly power. "Who built Dunwich Castle?" I inquired of Miss Ufford. " We did, nearly a thousand years ago," was the answer, made with the same simplicity with which she would have stated an ordinary fact.

" Indeed ! — but who let it fall into a ruin ? " "We did — three or four hundred years since. It belongs to us." " What ? to Mr. Ufford — your papa? " " No, no, child— to the Earl." " Are the Earl and he relations ? " "Brothers. The Earl of Linton-Stetch worth, who lives at Linton, and is so hard on poachers, as you told my cousin Rawleigh, is my uncle." " Indeed !— then, shall I see the Earl? " " Perhaps you will one day." " What ! — at your house ? " " I am afraid not. He never enters it, and I dare say, if he was reminded of my existence, he would pretend that he had forgotten me, and that he ever had a brother to be my father." " Why don't they know each other-? " "They have quarrelled; so you must be careful never to mention to papa a syllable about ' the Earl,' for it annoys him and makes him very angry."

"Do you hate the Earl?" " No, my dear." " Do you Hke him?" " I trust I don't dislike him." " Is he a good man ? " " He is a just one." This appeared to me very strange, and set me musing on the singular change that had befaUen me. There was I, suddenly elevated from a position of ignominy to be the companion, almost the friend, of the niece of that great Earl whom I had looked up to from infancy as one of the astounding facts of creation, — a being second only to the King of England. — What would next happen to me ? The reverie into which this question led me was broken by Miss Ufford proceeding in a communicative manner, the condescension and matter-of-course quiet of which astonished me when I afterwards reflected on it, to inform me what her intentions were with regard to me, and to confide to me many particulars concerning her own position.

Her motives for resolving to take care of me were twofold : her cousin Rawleigh had begged her to take me under her protection, and she herself had long wanted some object in life, on which she might expend benevolence, and from which she might receive in return the fealty of strong per sonal attachment. She told me she was poor, indeed, for a lady, very poor, and often had to do as she best could without the ordinary comforts, indeed necessaries of life, and there fore she explained to me, that in most respects I must consider myself as her domestic attendant. But she did not mean me to be altogether a servant; she wanted me also for a friend, and a principal part of her plan was to educate me in some of the common departments of learning, so that in after-life I should have at my command the means of filling a superior place as a servant, or a wife, according as it should please God to fashion my destiny.

For herself, she could not promise to do more for me than this. Most probably, ere many years were over, she would have no home for her own head, and would have to seek a shelter amongst strangers. — And as she said this, a deep and unusual sadness came over her fair face ; and the deHcate features, which mirth showed off to such advantage, assumed an expression of touching dejection. But this aspect quickly passed away, and I very rarely saw it again. Not unfrequently, when she conversed with me or her father, or the one or two other com panions of her secluded life, her countenance, and words, and voice, and manner, were arch and softly playful, but usuaUy the leading characteristic of her gentle, considerate, gra cious bearing was womanly goodness.

Chapter II. My Education In Certain Polite Arts

I was soon established famiharly in Laburnum Cottage, as Miss Ufford's residence was named, not because its garden contained a laburnum tree, or because it hadn't one, but because it had had one. Had I not been in formed by my mistress of the fact, I should never, from any of the circumstances of my life, have discovered that I was her maid ; it seemed to me that I was her guest, and nothing more — I mean nothing less. The old servant left, and I nominaUy took her place ; but her work was almost entirely performed by an old woman who entered the cottage at the dawn, and left it at the dusk of each day. All the servile tasks that I was expected to perform were, waiting on my mistress, dusting the furniture of the house, and arranging the table on which our simple meals were served. But, in all other respects, I was treated both by Miss Ufford and her father as an equal.

I was dressed in what appeared to me royal raiment, and in reality was fit apparel for a gentleman's daughter. It would weary my readers if I told them the childish pleasure I took in this alteration of dress. If I recollect rightly, it was not in my spotless and weU-fitting stuff frocks, or my shoes, or gloves, or bonnets, that I derived the greatest pleasure, but in the abundance of snowy linen, white collars, tiny cuffs, and crimp tucks, which my mistress presented me with, and encouraged me to wear. Scarcely a day passed on which I had not to play, for two, three, or even four hours, games of some sort or other with Mr. Ufford. The old gentleman, much to my satisfaction, conceived a strong liking for me, and under his tutelage I became an adept in handling cards and dice. I was very glad of this, for, in amusing him, I performed good service to my mistress, who on more than one occasion thanked me for the enthusiasm and skiU I displayed in keeping her dear father happy, and contented to spend his evenings at home, instead of at " The George ; " — the night air was so bad for him !