with others to serve me, might be disingenuous with me to serve herself. Miss Arnold proceeded to reproach herself in the bitterest manner for her improvidence in parting with the money, and seemed so heartily vexed, that the little spleen which my disappointment had at first excited entirely subsided; and I comforted my friend as well as I was able, by assuring her that my father would advance whatever money I desired.Miss Arnold now, in her turn, was silent, wearing a look of grave consideration. 'If I were in your place, Ellen,' said she, at last, 'I
don't think I would mention this matter to Mr Percy.'
'Not mention it!' said I, 'why not?'
'Because,' returned Miss Arnold, 'I see no end it can serve, except to make him angry. You know his pompous notions; and, after what has passed, I am sure he will think you borrowing money from Lord Frederick an act of downright rebellion.'
'Indeed,' returned I, 'that is very likely; but I promised to repay Lord Frederick to-morrow; and I have no other way of obtaining the money.'
'Poh! my dear, you are so punctilious about trifles! What can it possibly signify to Lord Frederick whether he be repaid to-morrow, or the day after?'
'Why, to be sure, it cannot signify much; only, as I have given my promise, I do not like to break it.'
'Well, really, Ellen, if I were to shut my eyes, I could sometimes fancy you had been brought up with some queer old aunt in the country. What difference can one day make? And I am sure, by the end of the week, at farthest, I could get the money from my brother, and settle the whole matter peaceably. Do take my advice, and say nothing about it to your father; he will be so angry; and you know, at the worst, you can tell him at any time.'
Had my mind been well regulated, or my judgment sound, Miss[79] Arnold's argument would itself have defeated her purpose; and
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the very conviction of my father's disliking my debt to Lord Frederick would have determined me that it should, at all hazards, be
repaid. But I was fated, in many instances, to suffer the penalty of those perverted habits of mind, which imposed upon me a sort
of moral disability of choosing right, as often as a choice was presented to me. Misled by an artful adviser, or rather, perhaps, by my own inveterate abhorrence of reproof, I chose that clandestine path, in which none can tread with peace or safety. In this fatal decision began a long train of evil.
Warned by my example, let him who is entering upon life review, with a suspicious eye, the transactions which he is inclined to conceal from the appointed guardians of his virtue. If the subject be of moment, let him be wisely fearful to rely upon his own judgment;--if it be trivial, let not concealment swell it to disastrous importance. If he have, unfortunately, a tendency to creep through the winding covered path, let him not strengthen by one additional act a habit so fatal to the lofty port of honour. If, like me, he
be of a frank and open nature, let him not, to escape a transient evil, sink the light heart, and pervert the simple purpose, and bend the erect dignity of truth. Let him who can tread firm in conscious soundness of mind leave the stealthy course for those to whom nature has given no better means of attaining their end. The low and tangled way, the subtle tortuous progress, suits the base earth-worm; let creatures of a nobler mould advance erect and steady.
Having dissuaded me from using the only means of discharging my debt without delay, Miss Arnold, like a cautious general, contented herself with fortifying the post she had taken; and, for the present, carried her operations no further. But, the next day, she took occasion to ask me, with a careless air, 'whether I had written a note of excuse to Lord Frederick?' I answered that I had not thought of it. 'You intend writing, of course,' said Miss Arnold, with that look of decision which has often served the purpose of argument.
'Don't you think it will be rather awkward?' said I.
'That you should not write, you mean?--Very awkward, indeed. And then I am sure you ought never to lose an opportunity of writing a note, for I know nobody who has such a talent for turning these things neatly.'
The indistinct idea of impropriety which was floating in my mind was put to flight by the nonchalance of Miss Arnold's manner; for,[80] when reason and conscience are deposed from their rightful authority at home, it is amazing how abjectly they learn to bend, not to the passions only, but to impulse merely external. I wrote the note to Lord Frederick. My lover, for now I may fairly call him so, contrived to reply to my billet in such terms as, with the help of Miss Arnold's counsels, produced a rejoinder. This again occasioned another; and notes, sonnets, epistles in verse, and billet-doux passed between us, till the folly had nearly assumed the form of
a regular correspondence. All this was, of course, carried on without the knowledge of my father or Miss Mortimer; and so rapid are
the inroads of evil, that I soon began to find a mysterious pleasure in the dexterity which compassed this furtive intercourse.
In the mean time, Miss Arnold was in no haste to perform her promise. Day after day she found some excuse for not going to ask her money, or some pretence for returning without it; and day after day she persuaded me to wait for its restitution; till the uneasy feeling of undischarged obligation subsided by degrees, and the natural disquiet of a debtor was nearly lost in the giddiness of perpetual amusement.
As the masked ball drew near, my eagerness for it had completely revived. It may seem strange, considering the multitude of my frivolous pleasures, that any single one should have awakened such ardour. But a masquerade was now the only amusement which was new to me; and I had already begun to experience that craving for novelty which is incident to all who seek for happiness where it never was and never will be found,--in bubbles which amuse the sense, but cheat the longing soul.
So entirely was I occupied in anticipating my new pleasure, that I should have had neither thought nor observation to bestow upon any other subject, had not conscience sometimes turned my attention to Miss Mortimer. I thought she looked ill and melancholy.
Her complexion, always delicate, had faded to a sickly hue. Her eyes were sunk and hollow; and the jealous watchfulness of one who has given cause of complaint, made me remark that they were often fixed sadly upon me. I half suspected that she had discovered my intended breach of faith; and wondered whether it were possible that my misconduct could make such an impression upon her mind. I was relieved from this suspicion by the frankness with which she one day lamented to me that my father, for some reason which she could not divine, refused to permit a party to be formed for the 5th of May. 'I[81] could have wished,' said she, 'to make that evening pass more gaily than I fear it will. Dear Ellen, how like you are to your mother when you blush!'
'Then I am sure,' said I, 'I wish I could blush always, for there is nobody I should like so much to resemble.'
'Well,' said Miss Mortimer, 'were it not for the fear of making you vain, I could tell you, that there is a more substantial resemblance;
for she, like you, knew how to resign her strongest inclinations in compliance with the wishes of her friends.'
This was too much. Conscience-struck, and quite thrown off my guard, I exclaimed, 'Like me! Oh! she was no more like me, than an
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angel of light is to a dark designing----' Recollecting that I was betraying myself, I stopped.
Miss Mortimer turned upon me a smile so kind, so confiding, that as oft as it rises to my memory I abhor myself. 'Nay, Ellen,' said she, 'if I am to be your confessor lay open the sins which do really beset you;
