Lizzie Wentworth. A story of real life

Front matter

I I I I ■ ■ ■ ■ I I % Siorg of gUal fife. By BENJAMIN WILSON, M.A. LONDON : VIRTUE & CO., 26, IVY LANE, PATERNOSTER row. mdccclxx. Ali rights reserved. LONDON: PRINTED BT VIRTUE AND CO., CITY ROAD. CHAPTEE I. In one of those streets running into the grand thoroughfare of Oxford Street there is a house which, at first sight, seems private, but on closer inspection displays in its front windows some choice specimens of ladies' bonnets and head-dresses, that invite the fair stranger, assuring her that she may enter without fear of intrusion. Within this abode were seated two persons. The one was a woman of about fifty years old, in a shabby-genteel, dingy garb, which was only relieved by a tawdry variety of ill-sorted finery — so cheap and so nasty in London. Her face was marked with deep furrows, which the wear and tear of trouble or toil were still ploughing deeper and deeper.

Her once black hair, struggling back into the fashion of the last half century, was grizzled. On her countenance there was a frown, is and, though she often smiled as she spoke from time to time to her young companion, she could not smile that frown away. On, on went her needle ; stitch — stitch — stitch, while she urged the girl to emulate the speed of her employer, who was a sewing machine made of flesh and blood. "Now, Lizzie, you know that bonnet must be finished to-night, if you sit at work till morning. Lady Seymour declares she must try it on to morrow at eleven o'clock : so that she can wear it and see how it becomes her, in time to have it altered, if necessary, for her afternoon drive in the parks." Such was the vital importance of that modern institution, with its streamers and its flowers, the decorations of the tiny crown, no bigger than an oystersheU.

" Not a moment to be lost," cried the sewing machine. " If you get your work finished in good time you shaU have next Sunday afternoon for a holiday." The young woman thus addressed looked up quietly, and her face singularly contrasted that of the elder woman, who was evidently her employer. She seemed to be about nineteen years old, and her complexion was fair and delicate, even in spite of the atmosphere of London, to which it looked Uke a stranger, though the paUor, which her now sedentary habits had brought to it, showed more of the Uly than the rose. Her light auburn hair hung in loose and natural curls, waving over her forehead Her countenance was beautiful, but tinged with a shade of melancholy. In repose it was almost vacant. But when she spoke, or moved a muscle, the eyes flashed into life, which told you that inteUect was there, though already clouded by distress, which kept it in a sleep, from which it could be awakened to a sense of its power of enjoyment by some hand, to touch the silent chord within her breast.

Chapter II

Dudley felt that he had ventured too far. " I hope you are not angry." "No, sir; but you know it is growing late, and I have not a moment to spare." This was true ; yet her own sense of delicacy gave it utterance. Dudley had seen her but once, and then only for an hour, when she scarcely opened her lips ; and yet there was something in his look, more than in his words, that said, " I admire you. May I love you ? " " Am I so beautiful ? " she silently asked herseU. Had this young woman been allowed a fair and proper place among young men and young women of the period, this first little bit of romance would scarcely have touched her imagination. " Just show me the way, sir," she urged. " I will direct you by a short path. But you look tired. Sit down, if it be but one minute, on this pleasant seat."

He was respectful, and only motioned her to the chair. Both being seated, he asked, " Can aU your art make an ugly woman pretty ? " L. " No woman is ugly." D. "No lady ugly, Lizzie ? " L. " No woman under a bonnet made to suit her. And no woman was ever so beautiful that an odd looking bonnet would not make her a fright." Dudley was fond of pleasure, and easily feU in love ; and almost as easdy fell out of it. He was romantic, and could not look upon the fair face and gudeless smile of a young woman with indifference. The idol that it delighted him to worship was enshrined in imagination rather than in his heart. His fancy led him into captivity, because it was the parent of desire. The witching influence of the time and the spot banished from his mind the past and the future in the company of Lizzie.

The present moment was everything to him, and to her it had no prophecy of woe. He was not yet really in love, nor did he intend to be in love with this poor child of toil. He found the maid that enchanted him radiant with innocent charms. He looked at her, and, as he looked, he was lost. Her story was short ; but he learnt from it that Lizzie's chddhood had been happier than her present lot. He tenderly sympathised with her, though indeed she made the very best of her situa tion with Miss Single. He would have lingered and loitered in this fleeting dream with the Eve whom heaven had brought him in this garden of Eden — as it were, Paradise before man's faU. But, remarking on the fair face an expression of uneasi ness, or even fear, he read in it a wish to finish her errand, and to return to her employer.

He rose, and politely handed her a strip of paper marking out the nearest way to his lady-cousin's abode. " FareweU," he sighed, but pressed not her hand; then lUting his hat, as if to the highest lady in the land, he added, " We shaU meet again." Lizzie was soon out of sight behind the trees. After some provoking delay and ceremony — tele grams from flunky to flunky — "the young person " gained access to Lady Jane Seymour. " You are late," said her ladyship, standing aloof. " Yes, my lady. I took the wrong path in Ken sington Gardens." " How did you get here at last ? " " By the directions on this slip of paper." "What paper?" "This, my lady." Her ladyship's maid handed her mistress the paper. " I ought to know that writing — how singular ! " " Why is it singular, my lady ?" " Because, young woman, it is the hand-writing of a relation of mine."

"Yes, may it please your ladyship, Mr. Dudley." " Pray how came you to know that his name is Dudley?" " It was on the card that he presented to Miss Single, when he called about your bonnet." "I was not aware of his doing any such thing." And she turned away haughtily. " I certainly told him that I wanted the first of the bonnets I ordered this month." " He must have anticipated your wish." " Indeed ! And so you met him by accident ? "By the merest accident in life, while I was wandering about and seeking some one to set me right. It was very kind and good of the gentle man to take such trouble for a poor girl Uke me." Her ladyship sdently tried on her bonnet before a mirror, with her maid behind her giving her opinion of the bonnet. "Ring the bed." A servant replied. "John," said her ladyship, " show this young person the nearest way to the Marble Arch."

Lizzie, regardless of expense, broke her last shdling in the fare of an omnibus, and was with her mistress before it was quite dark. In the stiU, monotonous life of poor Lizzie the adventure of the evening was an episode that power fuUy mfluenced her destiny. On her way back she thought little, but imagined much. Mr. Dudley's call at the bonnet-maker's must have had some object. He had evidently made the pretended commission from his cousin an apology for his visit. He could scarcely be a victim to the charms of the woman of the bygone period. " I think, I fear, I hope I may be the attraction," she said to herseU. The glamour of love had already fallen on her unsuspecting heart. " He talked to me of flowers, and aU that was fairest on earth. He is rich, and I am poor. Still I long to meet him again.

There can be no harm in such a pleasure ; for he said not a word to me of love." Such was the waking dream from which she was suddenly aroused by the conductor, who handed her out of the omnibus at the corner of Wells Street. Shades of smoke had shrouded twdight. All out side was as gloomy as Lizzie's prospects within. The bonnet-maker greeted her pupil as she entered the work-room — " You good-for-nothing ! " The sewing-machine warmed into vitality. She looked thunder at the girl, the cloud shrouded the smile. " Just what I might have expected, miss ! " " Then, ma'am, you are not surprised." " How dare you talk to me ! You forget your seU ! What kept you so long ? " " I lost my way." " And perhaps your character." " I fear, ma'am, I am more likely to lose my temper." " Don't talk to me of temper, miss !

Pray, what right have such as you to have a temper ? " " I cannot keep it while you scold me." " What next ? What is the world coming to ? " " To an end, ma'am, I suppose." " Be sdent, you pert, impudent but I wdl not say what I think of you. Fool that I am ! what else could be expected from a girl of the period ? " " Just Usten to me one moment, Miss Single, and I will teU you how it was. Just where four paths met " " Not a word, miss ! Don't add lies to your wickedness, to conceal it ! You are not to be trusted out of my sight. Here you are a fuU hour behind your time, whde I am left to do your work, and you play the fine lady ! " " I have done no harm. Indeed, ma'am, you are too hard upon a poor girl." " Do you know who you are talking to ? " " Yes, ma'am." "Then, miss, you ought, at least, to be modest enough to be ashamed of yourself."

Lizzie's pride was humbled. She buried her face in her hands, and with great difficulty stifled her sobs, while defiance was in her heart. The very helplessness of her situation added bitterness to her scorn. " Oh, that I had him to take my part ! " she only sighed. A girl or a boy, perhaps, is never so sure of going into any error as that against which an unwise guardian unskilfuUy attempts to save her or him by severity, without reference to the dispositions with which he has to deal. Had Lizzie been blessed with a tender mother's care, and a father's loving caution, her natural inclination would have yielded to affectionate control. Age has seldom much sympathy with youth. Without sympathy there is little influence beyond parental sway. Therefore Miss Single had but little control over Lizzie.

Lizzie and Dudley were alike in more respects than one. Their sympathies were strong within ■ them ; for, being both young, they both lived in the present, moved and had their being in the enjoy ment of the present hour — regardless of to-morrow. As hour after hour, day after day, Lizzie's needle fled through her work, from stitch to stitch, with a sort of desperate rapidity, her flexile and excitable fancy was conjuring up mansions of happiness, of which Dudley was the owner. Her maiden fancy free had been caught by Dudley ; and if he did not reign supremely in all her thoughts, he coloured them. " It is so sweet to be loved, to be cared for, to be protected. I am almost glad," she said to herseU, " to be thus helpless and weak, that I may be the object of the strong man's regard — some thing for him to defend — to support — perhaps even to love."

Then, again, the uncertainty of ever seeing him, a mere stranger, again ; or even in the event of the longed-for meeting there could be no dependence on his affection for her. This was the fear that disenchanted her mansions of bUss ; that flung the dark shadow to veil the bright image enshrined in her temple of hope. It was now about a month after that memorable meeting of Lizzie and her kind director in Kensing ton Gardens, when one fine Sunday evening Miss Single took it into her head, as an indulgence for her pupd's recent attention to her superior's wishes, to aUow the girl to go to church. " Go, Lizzie, attend to the clergyman, and learn to ' do your duty in that state of life to which you are caUed ; ' and bring away something with you that wdl teach you to be proper. And, mind, be home in good time, and let me see the text."

The church was crowded, for the preacher was popular. The stranger girl timidly advanced step by step higher and higher up the middle aisle, looking from one side to the other in search of room, tiU, finding herself awfuUy near the chancel, she tried, with a sort of gentle violence, to occupy a vacant seat, but was rudely thrust back by a church flunkey, who hissed in her ear, "That's no place for you, miss. Leave that for your betters." This he said with an insolence pecuUar to those of his class when clothed in a little brief authority, and pointed the abashed girl towards a far-off spot near the west door. She felt dreadfuUy annoyed. No one made room for her as she was making a flurried, ungrace ful retreat, less inclined to take a lower place than to take herself out of the church that seemed to deny her room where she could hear the words of the preacher.

Scarcely, however, had she receded three LLZZIE WENTWORTH. 23 steps, when a young gentleman vacated his seat, and courteously bowed her into it, with an air of graceful respect that might have met the demands of a duchess. In the poor girl's confusion and gratitude, she scarcely noticed the person who gave her his place ; nor was it tdl something in the sermon struck her forcibly, that, raising her eyes towards the preacher, they met other eyes, which, alas ! spoke more eloquently to her than a thousand homilies. On a seat on the opposite side sat Mr. Dudley, who exchanged looks with her, which, doubtless, were mutuaUy understood. She heard no more of the sermon. As with the eyes, so with the owners. They, too, were destined to meet. Dudley went with the stream of people that were pouring out, but waited outside the church door.

Lizzie thought he was gone ; her heart beat violently, but not under the excitement of the sermon. She kept back, though her thoughts fol lowed Dudley — her eyes sought him. Her desire urged her forward, but her modesty held her back — and was rewarded ; for, to her great delight, her anxious eye soon caught sight of Dudley. He was waiting apparently for some one just outside the great door. She paused — he smded. Her heart told her the meaning of that smde — he was waiting for her. One glad, fond, long look, and she accepted the arm that was offered to her. The sweet sim plicity of her dress turned many eyes upon her. If, in Kensington Gardens, Mr. Dudley thought her lovely in her walking dress — her hair escaping from its bonds, and streaming over the bewddered face — what must he be thinking of her now, as she gently leaned on the arm through which a thrill of ecstasy passed to his heart ?

She wore a pale blue dress, trimmed with white lace ; her bonnet so well suited to her head, that it seemed to be a part of it — no hideous bump of frightful hair swelled horribly behind it, and no ornament but a cluster of the hare beU and grass, with forget-me-not.

Chapter III

Dudley looked tall and manly, rather majestic than strictly handsome. So every inch the gentleman, that you might set him down for one of the upper ten thousand. In short, both the man and the woman were what it delights the novelists to caU " a strikingly handsome couple." They were soon in deep and earnest conversation, mutually absorbed in each other, and indifferent to all besides. But whde the unsophisticated, innocent, and confiding girl was perfectly unconscious of any impropriety in her acceptance of the attention so courteously prof fered, she felt that there was a difference in their rank that one day must be a waU between them. " How long it seems since our accidental meeting. I began to fear that I should never see the beautiful Lizzie again." " Yes, sir, it appears to me to be a year since that pleasant evening ; but, of course, I thought you had forgotten the poor inquiring stranger," she said, in her own simple way.

"Is it possible that you have been thinking about the bonnet-maker's girl ? " " Possible ! it were impossible to forget the fair face that has haunted me." " I am sorry, sir, you thought so much about such a poor girl so far beneath your notice as Lizzie." Speaking stiU more tenderly to her, Dudley, in the fulness of his heart, said — " Thought of you ! I have thought of you more, I think, than you have thought of yourself." " You pitied me, sir." " No. I thought of you as I never thought of any one else." " That seems strange, sir ; for I read in a book that Miss Single hid out of my way, that man has so much love, that he can divide it, and love many women at once, or one after another, while a woman can only truly love one man." " The prim old bonnet-maker knows nothing about such things.

She is cold to the species." " What is that, sir ? " " Why, mankind in general." " But she has a great fancy for you in particular, for she told me you were what the girl of the period caUs ' such a nice man.' " " And yet, Lizzie, she would scold you for walk ing and talking to this ' nice man.' " " Indeed, sir, my own sense almost scolds me ; for we are strangers, and so different." " How ? " " In circumstances." " No, Lizzie ; you are dear to my heart already. And my heart wiU level aU difference of rank. Why kdl the sweet moments of happiness ? " " There must be some one girl — your sister, or perhaps your cousin, Lady Seymour, must be more interesting to you than Uttle Lizzie, the apprentice girl." " I value the dear girl, who has given me a new interest in Use, and made it a paradise, not for what she has, but for what she is."

" I am bound to beUeve you, sir ; for, even were you false enough, I see no object you could have in deceiving me." She only did him justice. " But," said he, thoughtfully, as U a sudden idea had struck him, " What on earth or in heaven could have induced the icy woman to let you go to church ? " " Her wish, sir, to ' make me proper.' Little did I think, Mr. Dudley, who it was that relieved me from my awkward distress for a seat in church. I was making the best of my way out of it, when you so politely, so generously gave up your seat to me. But I was a woman — a stranger, too, among strangers. You felt for a woman, and a stranger, and made me at home in the house of God. But I suppose you only did as you would be done by — as you would have done for any poor girl situated as I was." " For any girl whom I respected."

" WeU, from the moment you paid me such respect, I felt that I was a woman. I looked upon myself as the very best of the best of the ladies around me, who seemed to snub me in their gay attire and their Sunday devotions." " You are right, Lizzie. You are, to my mind, the very best of the best of them. But you know the vulgar adage, ' Comparisons ' " " I would not be vulgar, sir, while you favour me with your company. I feel, since I saw you, and you noticed me — I feel as if I were born to be a lady. I wish I knew how to talk as weU as you do. But what would Miss Single say if she saw us both together ?" " Nothing good; for I shrewdly suspect she would blame in us what the poor old thing herself cannot enjoy." " Oh, sir, she is so crabbed, so sour, that no cow within a mde of her could give sweet mdk; and so particular too !

" " I hope you got back from Kensington in time to escape the creature's wrath ; or did she nurse it to keep it warm ? " " Dear a me ! she gave me such a talking to, that I thought I never should hear the last of it. But I have been doing penance ever since, and have been such a good girl, that, as a reward for my exceUent conduct, she aUowed me to go to church and hear Mr. Honeyman's sermon. ''Go,' says my mistress ; 'he is a safe man to sit under ; and, if it be not your own fault, you may bring away with you enough to teach even a girl of the period how to be proper.' " " But what time did she mention for your return to her?" " Good time. ' Mind, miss, and be back in good time,' she said sternly." " WeU, you wUl be all in good time after our walk to Regent's Park, where we can talk over the sermon, and admire the shrubs and flowers, and fancy we are in the country, and be as happy as two children in a fairy tale."

"But, Mr. Dudley, sir, how came you to teU us a lie?" " That's a strong word, Lizzie." " Not stronger than the truth," was the reply. "What lie?" " You told the dear old girl you had a commission from your cousin, Lady Jane Seymour, when you had no such thing." " How do you know that ?" " I had it from her ladyship's own lips. 0 Mr. Dudley ! " " Hear me, Lizzie, and forgive me for your own dear sake. I had often seen you at the window, and wished over and over again to be nearer to you, to speak to you. I had no excuse. I knew my cousin wanted her new bonnet. I learnt all about it, and that Miss Single was the maker. It was my interest in you, kind Lizzie, that invented the apology and told the lie. But here we are ; what a crowd of weU-clad, young, and sprightly people ! " " They seem as gay and as bright as the spring flowers that delight them, sir." " Yes, Lizzie, and as many coloured ; but what are they to us ?

We are aU in aU to each other. Let us seek a quiet spot for ourselves." Retiring from the main walk and the thickest of the throng, they were soon seated side by side, almost surrounded by flowering shrubs and the LLZZIE WENTWORTH. 31 earliest bloom of the joyous season, on a newly raised mound. The freshness of spring breathed the breath of the country into the parks. Dudley was barely twenty-five, and his affections were as fresh and as free as the breezes of heaven ; they had not as yet been wasted ; for Lizzie was the very first woman on whom they were bestowed since the mere dreams of his boyhood, and her he was too wise to alarm by any sudden declaration of love. " What did you think of the sermon ? Did you Uke it, sir ? " " I prefer the ' Book of Nature.' " " Have you ever read it, sir ?

" "Yes, and I think so have you." " When, sir ? — where ? " " Now, here, in the bright sky above us, in the beauties of God's work around us ; we read it in the opening leaves of the trees, in the glorious sun, in the tiniest flowers at our feet, in all the wonders of creation." He smiled as U he would have said something more lively, and perhaps more welcome to a girl's ear ; and more than once words hovered on his Ups, but were not spoken. What he did say was pleasant to Lizzie as the voice of the charmer. Was Lizzie in love with this out-door preacher, whom she had only seen thrice ? If so, she showed no outward signs of this catching malady. She put on no reserve. She did not affect to be crueUy coy or timid, nor was she agitated. No sign of the coming worm was in her damask cheek. She seemed more at her ease as the minutes and the talk flowed on.

" You are fond of flowers, Lizzie ? " " When they are natural. I can make flowers." " And wear them too, for I see some in your bonnet. They are very pretty and very little." " Yes, sir ; they are intended for harebell and grass, and a cluster of the forget-me-not." " Are they the fashion ? " " No, but they are so pretty and so elegant. I like the forget-me-not for its beauty and its name. It has a pecuUar blue, and it's so neat." " Yes," he said ; and added, with much feeling, — " Sweet girl, whate'er your future lot. In weal or woe forget-me-not." "But of flowers, Lizzie, which do you admire most ? " " The Uly of the vaUey : the pearl-white bells peeping between the green leaves do look so beautUul ! " " Why do you admire the lily of the vaUey so much ? " She paused and hesitated, and at length said, " Our Saviour told us to consider the lilies of the ' field.' What is your choice, Mr. Dudley ?

" "The daisy." " Well, to be sure ! Such a common little thing, and it grows everywhere." "For that very reason, Lizzie, I love it. It is none of your fine-weather friends, that forsake us when we need them most. It meets us everywhere through the Uvelong year, and greets us in the cold winter." "It is, then, a faithful flower, sir, and from this day I will wear it," she said, quietly plucking at the same time the artificial flowers from her bonnet, and replacing them with a bunch of daisies that she gathered at her feet. " But they wdl fade." "So shall I." " For your sake, let me keep the more lasting flowers that you have thrown away." " WUl you remember me, sir, as long as they keep their colour ? " " Yes, Lizzie, and constantly." " WeU, in return, sir, I shall think of you as long D as the natural daisy remains unfaded and fresh in my bonnet."

" No longer ? " " Time wdl show," was the answer. "The natural flowers, I suppose, are as beautiful here as they were in Paradise, sir ?" "Yes Relics they are of Eden's bowers, As pure, as fragrant, and as fair, As when they crown'd the sunshine hours Of happy wanderers there.' " The young woman had read scraps of poetry, but never had she listened to the voice of a reader so rich and melodious as that of Dudley. AU she felt was natural and sinless. How could she help being happy in such company ? She could not be in love ; for her manner was fearless and frank. Her sentiments were sisterly ; her feelings as chaste as the flowers at her feet — nay, perhaps, as Eve in the morning of her innocence. " It is getting late," she murmured ; " I shall not be in good time." The young man looked at his watch, and started to his feet.

He was surprised at the lateness of the hour. " The air grows cold," said he ; " we must hasten ;" and he took her arm within his, and hurried her away. He felt that he had dallied with the poor girl too long. " Oh, sir, what will become of me ? I am not in good time."